11 files changed, 59453 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/old/44704-0.txt b/old/44704-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8e859b4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14462 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX --
+Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX -- Miscellaneous Literature and Index
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Arthur Mee
+        J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 18, 2014 [EBook #44704]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: Italics are indicated by _underscores_ and boldface
+by =equals signs=. A complete Index of all 20 volumes of THE WORLD'S
+GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of this volume.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (signed) Matthew Arnold]
+
+
+
+
+    THE WORLD'S
+    GREATEST
+    BOOKS
+
+
+    JOINT EDITORS
+
+    ARTHUR MEE
+    Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
+
+    J. A. HAMMERTON
+    Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
+
+
+    VOL. XX
+
+    MISCELLANEOUS
+    LITERATURE
+
+    INDEX
+
+
+    WM. H. WISE & CO.
+
+
+
+
+_Table of Contents_
+
+
+  PORTRAIT OF MATTHEW ARNOLD                    _Frontispiece_
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH                                         PAGE
+      Spectator                                              1
+
+  ÆSOP
+      Fables                                                10
+
+  ARNOLD, MATTHEW
+      Essays in Criticism                                   18
+
+  BRANDES, GEORGE
+      Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature        31
+
+  BURTON, ROBERT
+      Anatomy of Melancholy                                 41
+
+  CARLYLE, THOMAS
+      On Heroes and Hero Worship                            50
+      Sartor Resartus                                       61
+
+  CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS
+      Concerning Friendship                                 70
+
+  COBBETT, WILLIAM
+      Advice to Young Men                                   78
+
+  DEFOE, DANIEL
+      Journal of the Plague Year                            90
+
+  DESMOSTHENES
+      Philippics                                            99
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO
+      English Traits                                       109
+      Representative Men                                   118
+
+  ERASMUS
+      Familiar Colloquies                                  126
+      In Praise of Folly                                   132
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM                                          140
+
+  GOLDSMITH, OLIVER
+      Citizen of the World                                 149
+
+  HALLAM, HENRY
+      Introduction to the Literature of Europe             158
+
+  HAZLITT, WILLIAM
+      Lectures on the English Poets                        169
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL
+      Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table                      181
+
+  LA BRUYÈRE
+      Characters                                           193
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE
+      Imaginary Conversations                              203
+
+  LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+      Reflections and Moral Maxims                         215
+
+  LEONARDO DA VINCI
+      Treatise on Painting                                 227
+
+  LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM
+      Laocoon                                              239
+
+  MILL, JOHN STUART
+      Essay on Liberty                                     248
+
+  MILTON, JOHN
+      Areopagitica                                         257
+
+  PLUTARCH
+      Parallel Lives                                       266
+
+  STAËL, MME. DE
+      On Germany                                           276
+
+  TACITUS
+      Germania                                             286
+
+  TAINE
+      History of English Literature                        298
+
+  THOREAU, HENRY DAVID
+      Walden                                               312
+
+  TOCQUEVILLE, DE
+      Democracy in America                                 324
+
+  WALTON, IZAAK
+      Complete Angler                                      334
+
+  INDEX                                                    349
+
+
+
+
+Miscellaneous
+
+
+
+
+JOSEPH ADDISON
+
+The Spectator
+
+  "The Spectator," the most popular and elegant miscellany of
+  English literature, appeared on the 1st of March, 1711. With an
+  interruption of two years--1712 to 1714--during part of which
+  time "The Guardian," a similar periodical, took its place, "The
+  Spectator" was continued to the 20th of December, 1714. Addison's
+  fame is inseparably associated with this periodical. He was the
+  animating spirit of the magazine, and by far the most exquisite
+  essays which appear in it are by him. Richard Steele, Addison's
+  friend and coadjutor in "The Spectator," was born in Dublin
+  in March, 1672, and died at Carmarthen on September 1, 1729.
+  (Addison biography, see Vol. XVI, p. 1.)
+
+
+_The Essays and the Essayist_
+
+Addison's "Spectator" is one of the most interesting books in the
+English language. When Dr. Johnson praised Addison's prose, it was
+specially of "The Spectator" that he was speaking. "His page," he
+says, "is always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendour.
+His sentences have neither studied amplitude nor affected brevity; his
+periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever
+wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant
+but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to Addison."
+
+Johnson's verdict has been upheld, for it is chiefly by "The Spectator"
+that Addison lives. None but scholars know his Latin verse and
+his voluminous translations now. His "Cato" survives only in some
+half-dozen occasional quotations. Two or three hymns of his, including
+"The spacious firmament on high," and "When all Thy mercies, O my God,"
+find a place in church collections; and his simile of the angel who
+rides upon the whirlwind and directs the storm is used now and again
+by pressmen and public speakers. But, in the main, when we think of
+Addison, it is of "The Spectator" that we think.
+
+Recall the time when it was founded. It was in the days of Queen Anne,
+the Augustan age of the essay. There were no newspapers then, no
+magazines or reviews, no Parliamentary reports, nothing corresponding
+to the so-called "light literature" of later days. The only centres of
+society that existed were the court, with the aristocracy that revolved
+about it, and the clubs and coffee-houses, in which the commercial
+and professional classes met to discuss matters of general interest,
+to crack their jokes, and to exchange small talk about this, that and
+the other person, man or woman, who might happen to figure, publicly
+or privately, at the time. "The Spectator" was one of the first organs
+to give form and consistency to the opinion, the humour and the gossip
+engendered by this social contact.
+
+One of the first, but not quite the first; for the less famous, though
+still remembered, "Tatler" preceded it. And these two, "The Tatler" and
+"The Spectator," have an intimate connection from the circumstance that
+Richard Steele, who started "The Tatler" in April, 1709, got Addison to
+write for it, and then joined with Addison in "The Spectator" when his
+own paper stopped in January, 1711. Addison and Steele had been friends
+since boyhood. They were contemporaries at the Charterhouse, and Steele
+often spent his holidays in the parsonage of Addison's father.
+
+The two friends were a little under forty years of age when "The
+Spectator" began in March, 1711. It was a penny paper, and was
+published daily, its predecessor having been published three times a
+week. It began with a circulation of 3,000 copies, and ran up to about
+10,000 before it stopped its daily issue in December, 1712. Macaulay,
+writing in 1843, insists upon the sale as "indicating a popularity
+quite as great as that of the most successful works of Scott and
+Dickens in our time." The 555 numbers of the daily issue formed seven
+volumes; and then there was a final eighth volume, made up of triweekly
+issues: a total of 635 numbers, of which Addison wrote 274, and Steele
+236.
+
+To summarise the contents of these 635 numbers would require a volume.
+They are so versatile and so varied. As one of Addison's biographers
+puts it, to-day you have a beautiful meditation, brilliant in imagery
+and serious as a sermon, or a pious discourse on death, or perhaps
+an eloquent and scathing protest against the duel; while to-morrow
+the whole number is perhaps concerned with the wigs, ruffles, and
+shoe-buckles of the _macaroni_, or the hoops, patches, farthingales
+and tuckers of the ladies. If you wish to see the plays and actors of
+the time, "The Spectator" will always show them to you; and, moreover,
+point out the dress, manners, and mannerisms, affectations, indecorums,
+plaudits, or otherwise of the frequenters of the theatre.
+
+For here is no newspaper, as we understand the term. "The Spectator"
+from the first indulged his humours at the expense of the quidnuncs.
+Says he:
+
+"There is another set of men that I must likewise lay a claim to
+as being altogether unfurnished with ideas till the business and
+conversation of the day has supplied them. I have often considered
+these poor souls with an eye of great commiseration when I have heard
+them asking the first man they have met with whether there was any news
+stirring, and by that means gathering together materials for thinking.
+These needy persons do not know what to talk of till about twelve
+o'clock in the morning; for by that time they are pretty good judges
+of the weather, know which way the wind sets, and whether the Dutch
+mail be come in. As they lie at the mercy of the first man they meet,
+and are grave or impertinent all the day long, according to the notions
+which they have imbibed in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them
+not to stir out of their chambers till they have read this paper; and
+do promise them that I will daily instil into them such sound and
+wholesome sentiments as shall have a good effect on their conversation
+for the ensuing twelve hours."
+
+Now, the essential, or at least the leading feature of "The Spectator"
+is this: that the entertainment is provided by an imaginary set of
+characters forming a Spectator Club. The club represents various
+classes or sections of the community, so that through its members a
+corresponding variety of interests and opinions is set before the
+reader, the Spectator himself acting as a sort of final censor or
+referee. Chief among the Club members is Sir Roger de Coverley, a
+simple, kindly, honourable, old-world country gentleman. Here is the
+description of this celebrated character:
+
+"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of
+ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His
+great-grandfather was inventor of that famous country dance which is
+called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted
+with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very
+singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good
+sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world only as he
+thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humour creates him
+no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his
+being unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the readier and more
+capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he
+lives in Soho Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor by reason
+he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county
+to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a
+fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George
+Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully
+Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being
+ill-used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year
+and a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last
+got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards.
+He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in
+fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he
+tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. It
+is said Sir Roger grew humble in his desires after he had forgot this
+cruel beauty, insomuch that it is reported he was frequently offended
+with beggars and gipsies; but this is looked upon by his friends rather
+as matter of raillery than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year,
+cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country;
+a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthful cast in his
+behaviour that he is rather beloved than esteemed."
+
+Then there is Sir Andrew Freeport, "a merchant of great eminence in the
+City of London; a person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and
+great experience." He is "acquainted with commerce in all its parts;
+and will tell you it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion
+by arms; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will
+often argue that, if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we
+should gain from one nation; and if another, from another."
+
+There is Captain Sentry, too, "a gentleman of great courage and
+understanding, but invincible modesty," who in the club speaks for the
+army, as the templar does for taste and learning, and the clergyman for
+theology and philosophy.
+
+And then, that the club may not seem to be unacquainted with "the
+gallantries and pleasures of the age," there is Will Honeycomb, the
+elderly man of fashion, who is "very ready at that sort of discourse
+with which men usually entertain women." Will "knows the history of
+every mode, and can inform you from which of the French king's wenches
+our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that
+way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort
+of petticoat; and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the
+dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and
+knowledge have been in the female world. As other men of his age will
+take notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an
+occasion, he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court,
+such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head
+of his troop in the park. This way of talking of his very much enlivens
+the conversation among us of a more sedate turn; and I find there is
+not one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks
+of him as that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred fine
+gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concerned, he
+is an honest, worthy man."
+
+Nor must we forget Will Wimble, though he is really an outsider. Will
+is the younger son of a baronet: a man of no profession, looking after
+his father's game, training his dogs, shooting, fishing, hunting,
+making whiplashes for his neighbors, knitting garters for the ladies,
+and afterwards slyly inquiring how they wear: a welcome guest at every
+house in the county; beloved by all the lads and the children.
+
+Besides these, and others, there is a fine little gallery of portraits
+in Sir Roger's country neighbours and tenants. We have, for instance,
+the yeoman who "knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a
+week, and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not
+so good an estate as himself"; and we have Moll White, the reputed
+witch, who, if she made a mistake at church and cried "Amen!" in a
+wrong place, "they never failed to conclude that she was saying her
+prayers backwards." We have the diverting captain, "young, sound,
+and impudent"; we have a demure Quaker; we have Tom Touchy, a fellow
+famous for "taking the law" of everybody; and we have the inn-keeper,
+who, out of compliment to Sir Roger, "put him up in a sign-post before
+the door," and then, when Sir Roger objected, changed the figure into
+the Saracen's Head by "a little aggravation of the features" and the
+addition of a pair of whiskers!
+
+Best of all is the old chaplain. Sir Roger was "afraid of being
+insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table"; so he got a university
+friend to "find him out a clergyman, rather of plain sense than much
+learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if
+possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon." The genial
+knight "made him a present of all the good sermons printed in English,
+and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of
+them in the pulpit." Thus, if Sir Roger happened to meet his chaplain
+on a Saturday evening, and asked who was to preach to-morrow, he would
+perhaps be answered: "The Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and
+Dr. South in the afternoon." About which arrangement "The Spectator"
+boldly observes: "I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy
+would follow this example; and, instead of wasting their spirits in
+laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome
+elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce what
+has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to
+themselves, but more edifying to the people."
+
+There is no end to the subjects discussed by "The Spectator." They
+range from dreams to dress and duelling; from ghosts to gardening and
+goats' milk; from wigs to wine and widows; from religion to riches
+and riding; from servants to sign-posts and snuff-boxes; from love
+to lodgings and lying; from beards to bankruptcy and blank verse; and
+hundreds of other interesting themes. Correspondents often wrote to
+emphasise this variety, for letters from the outside public were always
+welcome. Thus one "Thomas Trusty":
+
+"The variety of your subjects surprises me as much as a box of
+pictures did formerly, in which there was only one face, that by
+pulling some pieces of isinglass over it was changed into a senator or
+a merry-andrew, a polished lady or a nun, a beau or a blackamoor, a
+prude or a coquette, a country squire or a conjurer, with many other
+different representations very entertaining, though still the same at
+the bottom."
+
+But perhaps, on the whole, woman and her little ways have the
+predominant attention. Indeed, Addison expressly avowed this object of
+engaging the special interests of the sex when he started. He says:
+
+"There are none to whom this paper will be more useful than to the
+female world. I have often thought that there has not been sufficient
+pains taken in finding out proper employments and diversions for the
+fair ones. Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as they
+are women than as they are reasonable creatures; and are more adapted
+to the sex than to the species. The toilet is their great scene
+of business, and the right adjustment of their hair the principal
+employment of their lives. The sorting of a suit of ribands is reckoned
+a very good morning's work; and if they make an excursion to a mercer's
+or a toy-shop, so great a fatigue makes them unfit for anything else
+all the day after. Their more serious occupations are sewing and
+embroidery, and their greatest drudgery the preparations of jellies and
+sweetmeats. This, I say, is the state of ordinary women; though I know
+there are multitudes of those of a more elevated life and conversation,
+that move in an exalted sphere of knowledge and virtue, that join all
+the beauties of the mind to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind
+of awe and respect, as well as of love, into their male beholders.
+I hope to increase the number of these by publishing this daily
+paper, which I shall always endeavour to make an innocent, if not an
+improving, entertainment, and by that means, at least, divert the minds
+of my female readers from greater trifles."
+
+These reflections on the manners of women did not quite please Swift,
+who wrote to Stella: "I will not meddle with 'The Spectator'; let him
+_fair sex_ it to the world's end." But they pleased most other people,
+as the main contents of "The Spectator" still please. Here is one
+typical acknowledgment, signed "Leonora":
+
+  Mr. Spectator,--Your paper is part of my tea-equipage; and my
+  servant knows my humour so well that, calling for my breakfast
+  this morning (it being past my usual hour), she answered, "'the
+  Spectator' was not yet come in, but the tea-kettle boiled, and
+  she expected it every moment."
+
+As an "abstract and brief chronicle of the time," this monumental work
+of Addison and Steele is without peer. In its pages may be traced the
+foundations of all that is noble and healthy in modern English thought;
+and its charming sketches may be made the open sesame to a period and a
+literature as rich as any our country has seen.
+
+
+
+
+ÆSOP
+
+Fables
+
+  It is in the fitness of things that the early biographies of
+  Æsop, the great fabulist, should be entirely fabulous. Macrobius
+  has distinguished between _fabula_ and _fabulosa narratio_:
+  "He would have a fable to be absolutely false, and a fabulous
+  narration to be a number of fictions built upon a foundation of
+  truth." The Lives of Æsop belong chiefly to the latter category.
+  In the following pages what is known of the life of Æsop is set
+  forth, together with condensed versions of some of his most
+  characteristic fables, which have long passed into the wisdom of
+  all nations, this being a subject that calls for treatment on
+  somewhat different lines from the majority of the works dealt
+  with in THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS.
+
+
+_Introductory_
+
+Pierre Bayle, in his judicious fashion, sums up what is said of Æsop in
+antiquity, resting chiefly upon Plutarch. "Plutarch affirms: (1) That
+Crœsus sent Æsop to Periander, the Tyrant of Corinth, and to the Oracle
+of Delphi; (2) that Socrates found no other expedient to obey the God
+of Dreams, without injuring his profession, than to turn the Fables of
+Æsop into verse; (3) that Æsop and Solon were together at the Court of
+Crœsus, King of Lydia; (4) that those of Delphi, having put Æsop to
+death cruelly and unjustly, and finding themselves exposed to several
+calamities on account of this injustice, made a public declaration that
+they were ready to make satisfaction to the memory of Æsop; (5) that
+having treated thereupon with a native of Samos, they were delivered
+from the evil that afflicted them."
+
+To this summary Bayle added a footnote concerning "The Life of
+Æsop, composed by Meziriac": "It is a little book printed at
+Bourg-en-Bress, in 1632. It contains only forty pages in 16. It is
+becoming exceedingly scarce.... This is what I extract from it. It
+is more probable that Æsop was born at Cotiœum, a town of Phrygia,
+than that he was born at Sardis, or in the island of Samos, or at
+Mesembria in Thrace. The first master that he served was one Zemarchus,
+or Demarchus, surnamed Carasius, a native and inhabitant of Athens.
+Thus it is probable that it was there he learned the purity of the
+Greek tongue, as in its spring, and acquired the knowledge of moral
+philosophy which was then in esteem....
+
+"In process of time he was sold to Xanthus, a native of the Isle of
+Samos, and afterwards to Idmon, or Iadmnon, the philosopher, who was
+a Samian also, and who enfranchised him. After he had recovered his
+liberty, he soon acquired a great reputation among the Greeks; so that
+the report of his singular wisdom having reached the ears of Crœsus,
+he sent to inquire after him; and having conceived an affection for
+him, he obliged him by his favours to engage himself in his service to
+the end of his life. He travelled through Greece--whether for his own
+pleasure or for the private affairs of Crœsus is uncertain--and passing
+by Athens, soon after Pisistratus had usurped the sovereign power there
+and had abolished the popular state, and seeing that the Athenians
+bore the yoke very impatiently, he told them the Fable of the Frogs
+that asked a King of Jupiter. Afterwards he met the Seven Wise Men in
+the City of Corinth at the Tyrant Periander's. Some relate that, in
+order to show that the life of man is full of miseries, and that one
+pleasure is attended with a thousand pains, Æsop used to say that when
+Prometheus took the clay to form man, he did not temper it with water,
+but with tears."
+
+Concerning the death of this extraordinary man we read that Æsop went
+to Delphi, with a great quantity of gold and silver, being ordered by
+Crœsus to offer a great sacrifice to Apollo, and to give a considerable
+sum to each inhabitant. The quarrel which arose between the Delphians
+and him was the occasion, after his sending away the sacrifice, of his
+sending back the money to Crœsus; for he thought that those for whom
+this prince designed it had rendered themselves unworthy of it. The
+inhabitants of Delphi contrived an accusation of sacrilege against him,
+and, pretending that they had convicted him, cast him down from the top
+of a rock.
+
+Bayle has a long line of centuries at his back when he says: "Æsop's
+lectures against the faults of men were the fullest of good sense and
+wit that can be imagined." He substantiates this affirmation in the
+following manner: "Can any inventions be more happy than the images
+Æsop made use of to instruct mankind? They are exceedingly fit for
+children, and no less proper for grown persons; they are all that is
+necessary to perfect a precept --I mean the mixture of the useful with
+the agreeable." He then quotes Aulus Gellius as saying: "Æsop the
+Phrygian fabulist was not without reason esteemed to be wise, since he
+did not, after the manner of the philosophers, severely and imperiously
+command such things as were fit to be advised and persuaded, but by
+feigning, diverting and entertaining apologues, he insinuates good
+and wholesome advice into the minds of men with a kind of willing
+attention."
+
+Bayle continues: "At all times these have been made to succeed the
+homespun stories of nurses. 'Let them learn to tell the Fables of
+Æscop, which succeed the stories of the nursery, in pure and easy
+style, and afterwards endeavour to write in the same familiar manner.'
+They have never fallen into contempt. Our age, notwithstanding its
+pride and delicacy, esteems and admires them, and shows them in a
+hundred different shapes. The inimitable La Fontaine has procured them
+in our time a great deal of honour and glory; and great commendations
+are given to the reflections of an English wit, Sir Roger L'Estrange,
+on these very fables."
+
+Since the period when Pierre Bayle composed his great biographical
+dictionary, the Fables of Æsop have perhaps suffered something of a
+relapse in the favour of grown persons; but if one may judge from the
+number of new editions illustrated for children, they are still the
+delight of modern nurseries. There is this, however, to be said of
+contemporary times--that the multitude of books in a nursery prevent
+children from acquiring the profound and affectionate acquaintance with
+Æsop which every child would naturally get when his fables were almost
+the only book provided by the Press for juvenile readers.
+
+It is questionable whether the fables will any longer produce the
+really deep effect which they certainly have had in the past. But we
+may be certain that some of them will always play a great part in the
+wisdom of the common people, and that these particularly true and
+striking apologues are secure of an eternal place in the literature
+of nations. As an example of what we mean, we will tell as simply as
+possible some of the most characteristic fables.
+
+
+_The Dog and the Shadow_
+
+A Dog, with a piece of stolen meat between his teeth, was one day
+crossing a river by means of a plank, when he caught sight of another
+dog in the water carrying a far larger piece of meat. He opened his
+jaws to snap at the greater morsel, when the meat dropped in the stream
+and was lost even in the reflection.
+
+
+_The Dying Lion_
+
+A Lion, brought to the extremity of weakness by old age and disease,
+lay dying in the sunlight. Those whom he had oppressed in his strength
+now came round about him to revenge themselves for past injuries. The
+Boar ripped the flank of the King of Beasts with his tusks. The Bull
+came and gored the Lion's sides with his horns. Finally, the Ass drew
+near, and after carefully seeing that there was no danger, let fly with
+his heels in the Lion's face. Then, with a dying groan, the mighty
+creature exclaimed: "How much worse it is than a thousand deaths to be
+spurned by so base a creature!"
+
+
+_The Mountain in Labour_
+
+A Mountain was heard to produce dreadful sounds, as though it were
+labouring to bring forth something enormous. The people came and stood
+about waiting to see what wonderful thing would be produced from this
+labour. After they had waited till they were tired, out crept a Mouse.
+
+
+_Hercules and the Waggoner_
+
+A Waggoner was driving his team through a muddy lane when the wheels
+stuck fast in the clay, and the Horses could get no farther. The Man
+immediately dropped on his knees, and, crying bitterly, besought
+Hercules to come and help him. "Get up and stir thyself, thou lazy
+fellow!" replied Hercules. "Whip thy Horses, and put thy shoulder to
+the wheel. If thou art in need of my help, when thou thyself hast
+laboured, then shalt thou have it."
+
+
+_The Frogs that Asked for a King_
+
+The Frogs, who lived an easy, happy life in the ponds, once prayed to
+Jupiter that he should give them a King. Jupiter was amused by this
+prayer, and cast a log into the water, saying: "There, then, is a King
+for you." The Frogs, frightened by the great splash, regarded their
+King with alarm, until at last, seeing that he did not stir, some of
+them jumped upon his back and began to be merry there, amused at such
+a foolish King. However, King Log did not satisfy their ideas for very
+long, and so once again they petitioned Jupiter to send them a King, a
+real King who would rule over them, and not lie helpless in the water.
+Then Jupiter sent the Frogs a Stork, who caught them by their legs,
+tossed them in the air, and gobbled them up whenever he was hungry.
+All in a hurry the Frogs besought Jupiter to take away King Stork
+and restore them to their former happy condition. "No, no," answered
+Jupiter; "a King that did you no hurt did not please you; make the best
+of him you now have, lest a worse come in his place!"
+
+
+_The Gnat and the Lion_
+
+A lively and insolent Gnat was bold enough to attack a Lion, which he
+so maddened by stinging the most sensitive parts of his nose, eyes
+and ears that the beast roared with anguish and tore himself with
+his claws. In vain were the Lion's efforts to rid himself of his
+insignificant tormentor; again and again the insect returned and stung
+the furious King of Beasts, till at last the Lion fell exhausted on the
+ground. The triumphant Gnat, sounding his tiny trumpet, hovered over
+the spot exulting in his victory. But it happened that in his circling
+flight he got himself caught in the web of a Spider, which, fine and
+delicate as it was, yet had power enough to hold the tiny insect a
+prisoner. All the Gnat's efforts to escape only held him the more
+tightly and firmly a prisoner, and he who had conquered the Lion became
+in his turn the prey of the Spider.
+
+
+_The Wolf and the Stork_
+
+A Wolf ate his food so greedily that a bone stuck in his throat. This
+caused him such great pain that he ran hither and thither, promising
+to reward handsomely anyone who would remove the cause of his torture.
+A Stork, moved with pity by the Wolf's cry of pain, and tempted also
+by the reward, undertook the dangerous operation. When he had removed
+the bone, the Wolf moved away, but the Stork called out and reminded
+him of the promised reward. "Reward!" exclaimed the Wolf. "Pray, you
+greedy fellow, what reward can you expect? You dared to put your head
+in my mouth, and instead of biting it off, I let you take it out again
+unharmed. Get away with you! And do not again place yourself in my
+power."
+
+
+_The Frog who Wanted to Be as Big as an Ox_
+
+A vain Frog, surrounded by her children, looked up and saw an Ox
+grazing near by. "I can be as big as the Ox," she said, and began to
+blow herself out. "Am I as big now?" she inquired. "Oh, no; not nearly
+so big!" said the little frogs. "Now?" she asked, blowing herself out
+still more. "No, not nearly so big!" answered her children. "But now?"
+she inquired eagerly, and blew herself out still more. "No, not even
+now," they said; "and if you try till you burst yourself you will never
+be so big." But the Frog would not listen, and attempting to make
+herself bigger still, burst her skin and died.
+
+
+_The Dog in the Manger_
+
+A Dog lay in a manger which was full of hay. An Ox, being hungry, came
+near, and was about to eat when the Dog started up, and, with angry
+snarls, would not let the Ox approach. "Surly brute," said the Ox; "you
+cannot eat the hay yourself, and you will let no one else have any."
+
+
+_The Bundle of Faggots_
+
+An honest Man had the unhappiness to have a quarrelsome family of
+children. One day he called them before him, and bade them try to break
+a bundle of faggots. All tried, and all failed. "Now," said he, "unbind
+the bundle and take every stick by itself, and see if you cannot break
+them." They did his bidding, and snapped all the sticks one by one with
+the greatest possible ease. "This, my children," said the Father at
+last, "is a true emblem of your condition. Keep together and you are
+safe, divide and you are undone."
+
+
+_The Fox Without a Tail_
+
+A Fox was once caught in a trap by his tail, and in order to get free
+was obliged to leave it behind. He knew that his fellows would make fun
+of his tailless condition, so he made up his mind to induce them all to
+part with their tails. At the next assemblage of Foxes he made a speech
+on the uselessness of tails in general, and the inconvenience of a
+Fox's tail in particular, declaring that never in his whole life had he
+felt so comfortable as now in his tailless freedom. When he sat down,
+a sly old Fox rose, and, waving his brush, said, with a sneer, that
+if he had lost his tail, he would be convinced by the last speaker's
+arguments, but until such an accident occurred he fully intended to
+vote in favour of tails.
+
+
+_The Blind Man and the Paralytic_
+
+A blind man finding himself stopped in a rough and difficult road,
+met with a paralytic and begged his assistance. "How can I help you,"
+replied the paralytic, "when I can scarcely move myself along?" But,
+regarding the blind man, he added: "However, you appear to have good
+legs and a broad back, and, if you will lift me and carry me, I will
+guide you safely through this difficulty, which is more than each one
+can surmount for himself. You shall walk for me, and I will see for
+you." "With all my heart," rejoined the blind man; and, taking the
+paralytic on his shoulders, the two went cheerfully forward in a wise
+partnership which triumphed over all difficulties.
+
+
+
+
+MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+Essays in Criticism
+
+  Matthew Arnold, son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby (see Vol. X, p. 260),
+  was born on December 24, 1822, and died on April 15, 1888. He was
+  by everyday calling an inspector of schools and an educational
+  expert, but by nature and grace a poet, a philosopher, a man of
+  piety and of letters. Arnold almost ceased to write verse when
+  he was forty-five, though not without having already produced
+  some of the choicest poetry in the English language. Before
+  that he had developed his theories of literary criticism in his
+  "Essays in Criticism"; and about the time of his withdrawal
+  from Oxford he published "Culture and Anarchy," in which his
+  system of philosophy is broadly outlined. Later, in "St. Paul
+  and Protestantism," "Literature and Dogma" and "God and the
+  Bible," he tried to adjust Christianity according to the light of
+  modern knowledge. In his "Lectures on Translating Homer," he had
+  expressed views on criticism and its importance that were new to,
+  and so were somewhat adversely discussed by the Press. Whereupon,
+  in 1865, with a militant joy, he re-entered the fray and defined
+  the province of criticism in the first of a series of "Essays in
+  Criticism," showing the narrowness of the British conception.
+  "The Literary Influence of Academies" was a subject that enabled
+  him to make a further comparison between the literary genius of
+  the French and of the English people, and a number of individual
+  critiques that followed only enhanced his great and now
+  undisputed position both as a poet and as a critic. The argument
+  of the two general essays is given here.
+
+
+_I.--Creative Power and Critical Power_
+
+Many objections have been made to a proposition of mine about
+criticism: "Of the literature of France and Germany, as of the
+intellect of Europe in general, the main effort, for now many years,
+has been a critical effort--the endeavour, in all branches of
+knowledge, to see the object as in itself it really is." I added that
+"almost the last thing for which one would come to English literature
+was just that very thing which now Europe most desired--criticism,"
+and that the power and value of English literature were thereby
+impaired. More than one rejoinder declared that the importance here
+again assigned to criticism was excessive, and asserted the inherent
+superiority of the creative effort of the human spirit over its
+critical effort. A reporter of Wordsworth's conversation quotes a
+judgment to the same effect: "Wordsworth holds the critical power very
+low; indeed, infinitely lower than the inventive."
+
+The critical power is of lower rank than the inventive--true; but, in
+assenting to this proposition, we must keep in mind that men may have
+the sense of exercising a free creative activity in other ways than
+in producing great works of literature or art; and that the exercise
+of the creative power in the production of great works of literature
+or art is not at all epochs and under all conditions possible. This
+creative power works with elements, with materials--what if it has not
+those materials ready for its use? Now, in literature, the elements
+with which creative power works are ideas--the best ideas on every
+matter which literature touches, current at the time. The grand work of
+literary genius is a work of synthesis and exposition; its gift lies
+in the faculty of being happily inspired by a certain intellectual and
+spiritual atmosphere, by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself
+in them; of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in most
+effective and attractive combinations, making beautiful works with
+them, in short. But it must have the atmosphere, it must find itself
+amidst the order of the ideas, in order to work freely; and these it
+is not so easy to command. This is really why great creative epochs in
+literature are so rare--because, for the creation of a master-work of
+literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power
+of the moment; and the man is not enough without the moment.
+
+The creative power has for its happy exercise appointed elements, and
+those elements are not in its control. Nay, they are more within the
+control of the critical power. It is the business of the critical
+power in all branches of knowledge to see the object as in itself it
+really is. Thus it tends at last to make an intellectual situation of
+which the creative power can avail itself. It tends to establish an
+order of ideas, if not absolutely true, yet true by comparison with
+that which it displaces--to make the best ideas prevail. Presently
+these new ideas reach society; the touch of truth is the touch of life;
+and there is a stir and growth everywhere. Out of this stir and growth
+come the creative epochs of literature.
+
+
+_II.--The Literary "Atmosphere"_
+
+It has long seemed to me that the burst of creative activity in our
+literature through the first quarter of the nineteenth century had
+about it something premature, and for this cause its productions are
+doomed to prove hardly more lasting than the productions of far less
+splendid epochs. And this prematureness comes from its having proceeded
+without having its proper data, without sufficient materials to work
+with. In other words, the English poetry of the first quarter of the
+nineteenth century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force,
+did not know enough. This makes Byron so empty of matter, Shelley so
+incoherent, Wordsworth, profound as he is, so wanting in completeness
+and variety.
+
+It was not really books and reading that lacked to our poetry at this
+epoch. Shelley had plenty of reading, Coleridge had immense reading;
+Pindar and Sophocles had not many books; Shakespeare was no deep
+reader. True; but in the Greece of Pindar and Sophocles and the England
+of Shakespeare the poet lived in a current of ideas in the highest
+degree animating and nourishing to creative power.
+
+Such an atmosphere the many-sided learning and the long and widely
+combined critical effort of Germany formed for Goethe when he lived
+and worked. In the England of the first quarter of the nineteenth
+century there was neither a national glow of life and thought, such
+as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet a force of learning and
+criticism, such as was to be found in Germany. The creative power
+of poetry wanted, for success in the highest sense, materials and a
+basis--a thorough interpretation of the world was necessarily denied to
+it.
+
+At first it seems strange that out of the immense stir of the French
+Revolution and its age should not have come a crop of works of genius
+equal to that which came out of the stir of the great productive time
+of Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its powerful episode
+of the Reformation. But the truth is that the stir of the French
+Revolution took a character which essentially distinguished it from
+such movements as these. The French Revolution found, undoubtedly, its
+motive power in the intelligence of men, and not in their practical
+sense. It appeals to an order of ideas which are universal, certain,
+permanent. The year 1789 asked of a thing: Is it rational? That a
+whole nation should have been penetrated with an enthusiasm for pure
+reason is a very remarkable thing when we consider how little of mind,
+or anything so worthy or quickening as mind, comes into the motives
+which in general impel great masses of men. In spite of the crimes and
+follies in which it lost itself, the French Revolution derives, from
+the force, truth and universality of the ideas which it took for its
+law, a unique and still living power; and it is, and will probably long
+remain, the greatest, the most animating event in history.
+
+But the mania for giving an immediate political and practical
+application to all these fine ideas of the reason was fatal. Here
+an Englishman is in his element: on this theme we can all go on for
+hours. Ideas cannot be too much prized in and for themselves, cannot
+be too much lived with; but to transport them abruptly into the world
+of politics and practice, violently to revolutionise this world to
+their bidding--that is quite another thing. "Force and right are the
+governors of the world; force till right is ready" Joubert has said.
+The grand error of the French Revolution was that it set at naught
+the second great half of that maxim--force till right is ready--and,
+rushing furiously into the political sphere, created in opposition to
+itself what I may call an epoch of concentration.
+
+The great force of that epoch of concentration was England, and the
+great voice of that epoch of concentration was Burke. I will not
+deny that his writings are often disfigured by the violence and
+passion of the moment, and that in some directions Burke's view was
+bounded and his observations therefore at fault; but for those who
+can make the needful corrections what distinguishes these writings
+is their profound, permanent, fruitful, philosophical truth--they
+contain the true philosophy of an epoch of concentration. Now, an
+epoch of expansion seems to be opening in this country. In spite of
+the absorbing and brutalising influence of our passionate material
+progress, this progress is likely to lead in the end to an apparition
+of intellectual life. It is of the last importance that English
+criticism should discern what rule it ought to take, to avail itself
+of the field now opening to it. That rule may be summed up in one
+word--disinterestedness.
+
+
+_III.--The Virtue of Detachment_
+
+How is criticism to show disinterestedness? By keeping aloof from
+practice; by resolutely following the law of its own nature, which is
+to be a free play of the mind on all subjects which it touches. Its
+business is simply to know the best that is known and thought in the
+world, and by making this known to create a current of fresh and true
+ideas. What is at present the bane of criticism in this country? It
+is that our organs of criticism are organs of men and parties having
+practical ends to serve, and with them those practical ends are the
+first thing, and the play of the mind the second--so much play of mind
+as is compatible with the prosecution of these practical ends is all
+that is wanted.
+
+An organ like the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, existing as just an organ
+for a free play of mind, we have not; but we have the "Edinburgh
+Review," existing as an organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play
+of mind as may suit its being that; we have the "Quarterly Review,"
+existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as much play of mind as may
+suit its being that; we have the "British Quarterly Review," existing
+as an organ of the political Dissenters, and for as much play of mind
+as may suit its being that; we have "The Times," existing as an organ
+of the common, satisfied, well-to-do Englishman, and for as much play
+of mind as may suit its being that. And so on through all the various
+fractions, political and religious, of our society--every fraction
+has, as such, its organ of criticism, but the notion of combining all
+fractions in the common pleasure of a free, disinterested play of mind
+meets with no favour. Yet no other criticism will ever attain any real
+authority, or make any real way towards its end--the creating of a
+current of true and fresh ideas.
+
+It will be said that, by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue
+of detachment, criticism condemns itself to a slow and obscure work;
+but it is the only proper work of criticism. Whoever sets himself to
+see things as they are will find himself one of a very small circle;
+but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its work that
+adequate ideas will ever get current at all. For the practical man is
+not apt for fine distinctions, and yet in these distinctions truth and
+the highest culture greatly find their account. To act is so easy, as
+Goethe says, and to think is so hard. Criticism must maintain its
+independence of the practical spirit and its aims. Even with well meant
+efforts of the practical spirit it must express dissatisfaction if, in
+the sphere of the ideal, they seem impoverishing and limiting. It must
+be apt to study and praise elements that for the fulness of spiritual
+perfection are wanted, even though they belong to a power which, in
+the practical sphere, may be maleficent. It must be apt to discern the
+spiritual shortcomings of powers that in the practical sphere may be
+beneficent.
+
+By the very nature of things much of the best that is known and
+thought in the world cannot be of English growth--must be foreign;
+by the nature of things, again, it is just this that we are least
+likely to know, while English thought is streaming in upon us from all
+sides, and takes excellent care that we shall not be ignorant of its
+existence. The English critic must dwell much on foreign thought, and
+with particular heed on any part of it, which, while significant and
+fruitful in itself, is for any reason specially likely to escape him.
+
+Again, judging is often spoken of as the critic's business; and so in
+some sense it is. But the judgment which almost insensibly forms itself
+in a fair and clear mind, along with fresh knowledge, is the valuable
+one; and, therefore, knowledge, and ever fresh knowledge, must be the
+critic's great concern for himself. And it is by communicating fresh
+knowledge, and letting his own judgment pass along with it--as a sort
+of companion and clue--that he will generally do most good to his
+readers.
+
+To get near the standard of the best that is known and thought in the
+world, every critic should possess one great literature at least beside
+his own; and the more unlike his own the better. For the criticism I am
+concerned with regards Europe as being for intellectual and spiritual
+purposes one great confederation, bound to a joint action and working
+to a common result.
+
+I conclude with what I said at the beginning. To have the sense of
+creative activity is not denied to criticism; but then criticism must
+be sincere, simple, flexible, ardent, ever widening its knowledge. Then
+it may have, in no contemptible measure, a joyful sense of creative
+activity, a sense which a man of insight and conscience will prefer
+to that he might derive from a poor, starved, fragmentary, inadequate
+creation. And at some epochs no other creation is possible. Still, in
+full measure, the sense of creative activity belongs only to genuine
+creation; in literature we must never forget that. But what true man of
+letters ever can forget it? It is no such common matter for a gifted
+nature to come into possession of a current of true and living ideas,
+and to produce amidst the inspiration of them, that we are likely to
+underrate it. The glorious epochs of Æschylus and Shakespeare make us
+feel their pre-eminence. In an epoch like those is the true life of
+literature; there is the promised land towards which criticism can only
+beckon.
+
+
+_IV.--Should We Have an Academy?_
+
+It is impossible to put down a book like the history of the French
+Academy by Pellisson and D'Olivet without being led to reflect upon
+the absence in our own country of any institution like the French
+Academy, upon the probable causes of this absence, and upon its
+results. Improvement of the language was the declared grand aim for the
+operations of that academy. Its statutes of foundation say expressly
+that "the Academy's principal function shall be to work with all
+the care and all the diligence possible at giving sure rules to our
+language, and rendering it pure, eloquent and capable of treating
+the arts and sciences." It is said that Richelieu had it in his mind
+that French should succeed Latin in its general ascendancy, as Latin
+had succeeded Greek. If it were so, even this wish has to some extent
+been fulfilled. This was not all Richelieu had in his mind, however.
+The new academy was meant to be a literary tribunal, a high court of
+letters, and this is what it has really been.
+
+Such an effort, to set up a recognised authority, imposing on us a
+high standard in matters of intellect and taste, has many enemies in
+human nature. We all of us like to go our own way, and not to be forced
+out of the atmosphere of commonplace habitual to most of us. We like
+to be suffered to lie comfortably on the old straw of our habits,
+especially of our intellectual habits, even though this straw may not
+be very fine and clean. But if this effort to limit the freedom of our
+lower nature finds enemies in human nature, it also finds auxiliaries
+in it. Man alone of living creatures, says Cicero, goes feeling after
+the discovery of an order, a law of good taste; other creatures
+submissively fulfil the law of their nature.
+
+Now in France, says M. Sainte-Beuve, "the first consideration for us is
+not whether we are amused and pleased by a work of art or of mind, or
+is it whether we are touched by it. What we seek above all to learn is
+whether we were right in being amused with it, and in applauding it,
+and in being moved by it." A Frenchman has, to a considerable degree,
+what one may call a conscience in intellectual matters. Seeing this, we
+are on the road to see why the French have their Academy and we have
+nothing of the kind.
+
+What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of our nation?
+Our greatest admirers would not claim for us an open and clear mind,
+a quick and flexible intelligence. Rather would they allege as our
+chief spiritual characteristics energy and honesty--most important and
+fruitful qualities in the intellectual and spiritual, as in the moral
+sphere, for, of what we call genius, energy is the most essential
+part. Now, what that energy, which is the life of genius, above
+everything demands and insists upon, is freedom--entire independence of
+authority, prescription and routine, the fullest power to extend as
+it will. Therefore, a nation whose chief spiritual characteristic is
+energy will not be very apt to set up in intellectual matters a fixed
+standard, an authority like an academy. By this it certainly escapes
+real inconveniences and dangers, and it can, at the same time, reach
+undeniably splendid heights in poetry and science. We have Shakespeare,
+and we have Newton. In the intellectual sphere there can be no higher
+names.
+
+On the other hand, some of the requisites of intellectual work
+are specially the affair of quickness of mind and flexibility of
+intelligence. In prose literature they are of first-rate importance.
+These are elements that can, to a certain degree, be appropriated,
+while the free activity of genius cannot. Academies consecrate and
+maintain them, and therefore a nation with an eminent turn for them
+naturally establishes academies.
+
+
+_V.--Our Loss Through Provinciality_
+
+How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose! How much better do
+the productions of its spirit show in the qualities of genius than in
+the qualities of intelligence! But the question as to the utility of
+academies to the intellectual life of a nation is not settled when we
+say that we have never had an academy, yet we have, confessedly, a very
+great literature. It is by no means sure that either our literature
+or the general intellectual life of our nation has got already
+without academies all that academies can give. Our literature, in
+spite of the genius manifested in it, may fall short in form, method,
+precision, proportions, arrangement--all things where intelligence
+proper comes in. It may be weak in prose, full of haphazard, crudeness,
+provincialism, eccentricity, violence, blundering; and instead of
+always fixing our thoughts upon the points in which our literature is
+strong, we should, from time to time, fix them upon those in which
+it is weak. In France, the Academy serves as a sort of centre and
+rallying-point to educated opinion, and gives it a force which it has
+not got here. In the bulk of the intellectual work of a nation which
+has no centre, no intellectual metropolis like an academy, there is
+observable a note of provinciality. Great powers of mind will make a
+man think profoundly, but not even great powers of mind will keep his
+taste and style perfectly sound and sure if he is left too much to
+himself with no sovereign organ of opinion near him.
+
+Even men like Jeremy Taylor and Burke suffer here. Theirs is too often
+extravagant prose; prose too much suffered to indulge its caprices;
+prose at too great a distance from the centre of good taste; prose with
+the note of provinciality; Asiatic prose, somewhat barbarously rich and
+overloaded. The note of provinciality in Addison is to be found in the
+commonplace of his ideas, though his style is classical. Where there
+is no centre like an academy, if you have genius and powerful ideas,
+you are apt not to have the best style going; if you have precision of
+style and not genius, you are apt not to have the best ideas going.
+
+The provincial spirit exaggerates the value of its ideas for want of
+a high standard at hand by which to try them; it is hurried away by
+fancies; it likes and dislikes too passionately, too exclusively; its
+admiration weeps hysterical tears, and its disapprobation foams at the
+mouth. So we get the eruptive and aggressive manner in literature. Not
+having the lucidity of a large and centrally-placed intelligence, the
+provincial spirit has not its graciousness; it does not persuade, it
+makes war; it has not urbanity, the tone of the city, of the centre,
+the tone that always aims at a spiritual and intellectual effect. It
+loves hard-hitting rather than persuading. The newspaper, with its
+party spirit, its resolute avoidance of shades and distinctions, is
+its true literature. In England there needs a miracle of genius like
+Shakespeare to produce balance of mind, and a miracle of intellectual
+delicacy like Dr. Newman's to produce urbanity of style.
+
+The reader will ask for some practical conclusion about the
+establishment of an academy in this country, and perhaps I shall hardly
+give him the one he expects. Nations have their own modes of acting,
+and these modes are not easily changed; they are even consecrated when
+great things have been done in them. When a literature has produced
+a Shakespeare and a Milton, when it has even produced a Barrow and a
+Burke, it cannot well abandon its traditions; it can hardly begin at
+this late time of day with an institution like the French Academy. An
+academy quite like the French Academy, a sovereign organ of the highest
+literary opinion, a recognised authority in matters of intellectual
+tone and taste, we shall hardly have, and perhaps ought not to wish to
+have. But then every one amongst us with any turn for literature at all
+will do well to remember to what shortcomings and excesses, which such
+an academy tends to correct, we are liable, and the more liable, of
+course, for not having it. He will do well constantly to try himself in
+respect of these, steadily to widen his culture, and severely to check
+in himself the provincial spirit.
+
+
+_VI.--Some Illustrative Criticisms_
+
+To try and approach Truth on one side after another, not to strive or
+cry, not to persist in pressing forward on any one side with violence
+and self-will--it is only thus that mortals may hope to gain any vision
+of the mysterious goddess whom we shall never see except in outline.
+
+The grand power of poetry is the power of dealing with things so as to
+awaken in us a wonderfully full, new and intimate sense of them and
+of our relation with them, so that we feel ourselves to be in contact
+with the essential nature of those objects, to have their secret, and
+be in harmony with them, and this feeling calms and satisfies us as no
+other can. Maurice de Guérin manifested this magical power of poetry in
+singular eminence. His passion for perfection disdained all poetical
+work that was not perfectly adequate and felicitous.
+
+His sister Eugénie de Guérin has the same characteristic
+quality--distinction. Of this quality the world is impatient; it
+chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates it, but ends by
+receiving its influence and by undergoing its law. This quality at last
+inexorably corrects the world's blunders, and fixes the world's ideals.
+
+Heine claimed that he was "a brave soldier in the war of the liberation
+of humanity." That was his significance. He was, if not pre-eminently
+a brave, yet a brilliant soldier in the war of liberation of humanity.
+He was not an adequate interpreter of the modern world, but only a
+brilliant soldier.
+
+Born in 1754, and dying in 1824, Joseph Joubert chose to hide his life;
+but he was a man of extraordinary ardour in the search for truth and
+of extraordinary fineness in the perception of it. He was one of those
+wonderful lovers of light who, when they have an idea to put forth,
+brood long over it first, and wait patiently till it shines.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE BRANDES
+
+Main Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century
+
+  George Brandes was born in Copenhagen on February 4, 1842, and
+  was educated at the University of Copenhagen. The appearance
+  of his "Æsthetic Studies" in 1868 established his reputation
+  among men of letters of all lands. His criticism received a
+  philosophic bent from his study of John Stuart Mill, Comte, and
+  Renan. Complaint is often made of the bias exhibited by Brandes
+  in his works, which is somewhat of a blemish on the breadth
+  of his judgment. This bias finds its chief expression in his
+  anti-clericalism. His publications number thirty-three volumes,
+  and include works on history, literature, and criticism. He
+  has written studies of Shakespeare, of Lord Beaconsfield, of
+  Ibsen, and of Ferdinand Lassalle. His greatest work is the "Main
+  Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century." The field
+  covered is so vast that any attempted synopsis of the volume is
+  impossible here, so in this place we merely indicate the scope of
+  Brandes's monumental work, and state his general conclusions.
+
+
+_The Man and the Book_
+
+This remarkable essay in literary criticism is limited to the first
+half of the nineteenth century; it concludes with the historical
+turning-point of 1848. Within this period the author discovers, first,
+a reaction against the literature of the eighteenth century; and then,
+the vanquishment of that reaction. Or, in other words, there is first
+a fading away and disappearance of the ideas and feelings of the
+preceding century, and then a return of the ideas of progress in new
+and higher waves.
+
+"Literary history is, in its profoundest significance, psychology, the
+study, the history of the soul"; and literary criticism is, with our
+author, nothing less than the interior history of peoples. Whether we
+happen to agree or to disagree with his personal sympathies, which
+lie altogether with liberalism and whether his interpretation of these
+complex movements be accepted or rejected by future criticism, it is at
+least unquestionable that his estimate of his science is the right one,
+and that his method is the right one, and that no one stands beside
+Brandes as an exponent.
+
+The historical movement of the years 1800 to 1848 is here likened to a
+drama, of which six different literary groups represent the six acts.
+The first three acts incorporate the reaction against progress and
+liberty. They are, first, the French Emigrant Literature, inspired
+by Rousseau; secondly, the semi-Catholic Romantic school of Germany,
+wherein the reaction has separated itself more thoroughly from the
+contemporary struggle for liberty, and has gained considerably in
+depth and vigour; and, thirdly, the militant and triumphant reaction
+as shown in Joseph de Maistre, Lamennais, Lamartine and Victor Hugo,
+standing out for pope and monarch. The drama of reaction has here come
+to its climax; and the last three acts are to witness its fall, and the
+revival, in its place, of the ideas of liberty and of progress.
+
+"It is one man, Byron, who produces the revulsion in the great drama."
+And Byron and his English contemporaries, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott,
+Keats and Shelley, hold the stage in the fourth act, "Naturalism in
+England." The fifth act belongs to the Liberal movement in France, the
+"French Romantic School," including the names of Lamennais, Lamartine
+and Hugo in their second phase; and also those of De Musset and George
+Sand. The movement passes from France into "Young Germany," where the
+sixth act is played by Heine, Ruge, Feuerbach and others; and the
+ardent revolutionary writers of France and of Germany together prepare
+for the great political transformation of 1848.
+
+
+_I.--The Emigrant Literature_
+
+At the beginning of our period, France was subjected to two successive
+tyrannies: those, namely, of the Convention and of the Empire, both of
+which suppressed all independent thought and literature. Writers were,
+perforce, emigrants beyond the frontiers of French power, and were, one
+and all, in opposition to the Reign of Terror, or to the Napoleonic
+tyranny, or to both; one and all they were looking forward to the new
+age which should come.
+
+There was, therefore, a note of expectancy in this emigrant literature,
+which had also the advantage of real knowledge, gained in long exile,
+of foreign lands and peoples. Although it reacts against the dry and
+narrow rationalism of the eighteenth century, it is not as yet a
+complete reaction against the Liberalism of that period; the writers
+of the emigrant group are still ardent in the cause of Liberty. They
+are contrary to the spirit of Voltaire; but they are all profoundly
+influenced by Rousseau.
+
+Chateaubriand's romances, "Atala" and "René," Rousseau's "The New
+Héloïse" and Goethe's "Werther" are the subjects of studies which lead
+our critic to a consideration of that new spiritual condition of which
+they are the indications. "All the spiritual maladies," he says, "which
+make their appearance at this time may be regarded as the products
+of two great events--the emancipation of the individual and the
+emancipation of thought."
+
+Every career now lies open, potentially, to the individual. His
+opportunities, and therefore his desires, but not his powers, have
+become boundless; and "inordinate desire is always accompanied by
+inordinate melancholy." His release from the old order, which limited
+his importance, has set him free for self-idolatry; the old laws
+have broken down, and everything now seems permissible. He no longer
+feels himself part of a whole; he feels himself to be a little world
+which reflects the great world. The belief in the saving power of
+enlightenment had been rudely shaken, and the minds of men were
+confused like an army which receives contradictory orders in the midst
+of a battle. Sénancour, Nodier and Benjamin Constant have left us
+striking romances picturing the human spirit in this dilemma; they show
+also a new feeling for Nature, new revelations of subjectivity, and new
+ideas of womanhood and of passion.
+
+But of the emigrant literature Madame de Staël is the chief and
+central figure. The lawless savagery of the Revolution did not weaken
+her fidelity to personal and political freedom. "She wages war with
+absolutism in the state and hypocrisy in society. She teaches her
+countrymen to appreciate the characteristics and literature of the
+neighbouring nations; she breaks down with her own hands the wall of
+self-sufficiency with which victorious France had surrounded itself.
+Barante, with his perspective view of eighteenth-century France, only
+continues and completes her work."
+
+
+_II.--The Romantic School in Germany_
+
+German Romanticism continues the growing reaction against the
+eighteenth century; yet, though it is essentially reaction, it is not
+mere reaction, but contains the seeds of a new development. It is
+intellectual, poetical, philosophical and full of real life.
+
+This literary period, marked by the names of Hölderlin, A. W. Schlegel,
+Tieck, Jean Paul Richter, Schleiermacher, Wackenroder, Novalis, Arnim,
+Brentano, resulted in little that has endured. It produced no typical
+forms; the character of its literature is musical rather than plastic;
+its impulse is not a clear perception or creation, but an infinite and
+ineffable aspiration.
+
+An intenser spiritual life was at once the impulse and the goal of
+the Romanticists, in whom wonder and infinite desire are born again.
+A sympathetic interest in the fairy tale and the legend, in the face
+of Nature and in her creatures, in history, institutions and law, and
+a keener emotional sensitiveness in poetry, were the result of this
+refreshed interior life. In religion, the movement was towards the
+richly-coloured mystery and child-like faith of Catholicism; and in
+respect of human love it was towards freedom, spontaneity, intensity,
+and against the hard bonds of social conventions.
+
+But its emotions became increasingly morbid, abnormal and ineffectual.
+Romanticism tended really, not to the spiritual emancipation that was
+its avowed aim, but to a refinement of sensuality; an indolent and
+passive enjoyment is its actual goal; and it repudiates industry and
+utility as the philistine barriers which exclude us from Paradise.
+Retrogression, the going back to a fancied Paradise or Golden Age, is
+the central idea of Romanticism, and is the secret of the practical
+ineffectiveness of the movement.
+
+Friedrich Schlegel's romance, "Lucinde," is a very typical work of
+this period. It is based on the Romantic idea that life and poetry are
+identical, and its aim is to counsel the transformation of our actual
+life into a poem or work of art. It is a manifesto of self-absorption
+and of subjectivity; the reasoned defence of idleness, of enjoyment, of
+lawlessness, of the arbitrary expression of the Self, supreme above all.
+
+The mysticism of Novalis, who preferred sickness to health, night to
+day, and invested death itself with sensual delights, is described by
+himself as voluptuousness. It is full of a feverish, morbid desire,
+which becomes at last the desire for nothingness. The "blue flower," in
+his story "Heinrich von Ofterdingen," is the ideal, personal happiness,
+sought for in all Romanticism, but by its very nature never attainable.
+
+
+_III.--The Reaction in France_
+
+Herein we have the culmination of the reactionary movement. Certain
+authors are grouped together as labouring for the re-establishment of
+the fallen power of authority; and by the principle of authority is to
+be understood "the principle which assumes the life of the individual
+and of the nation to be based upon reverence for inherited tradition."
+Further, "the principle of authority in general stood or fell with the
+authority of the Church. When that was undermined, it drew all other
+authorities with it in its fall."
+
+After a study of the Revolution in its quality as a religious movement,
+and the story of the Concordat, our author traces the genesis of
+this extreme phase of the reaction. Its promoters were all of noble
+birth and bound by close ties to the old royal families; their aim
+was political rather than religious; "they craved for religion as
+a panacea for lawlessness." Their ruling idea was the principle of
+externality, as opposed to that of inward, personal feeling and private
+investigation; it was the principle of theocracy, as opposed to the
+sovereignty of the people; it was the principle of power, as opposed to
+the principles of human rights and liberties.
+
+Chateaubriand's famous book, "Le Génie du Christianisme," devoid of
+real feeling, attempts to vindicate authority by means of an appeal
+to sentiment, as if taking for granted that a reasoned faith was now
+impossible. His point of view is romantic, and therefore, religiously,
+false; his reasoning is of the "how beautiful!" style.
+
+But the principle was enthroned by Count Joseph de Maistre, a very
+different man. The minister of the King of Sardinia at the court
+of Russia, he gained the emperor's confidence by his strong and
+pure character, his royalist principles, and his talents. His more
+important works, "Du Pape," "De l'Eglise Gallicane," and "Soirées de
+St. Pétersbourg," are the most uncompromising defence of political
+and religious autocracy. The fundamental idea of his works is that
+"there is no human society without government, no government without
+sovereignty, and no sovereignty without infallibility." Beside De
+Maistre stands Bonald, a man of the same views, but without the other's
+daring and versatile wit. Chateaubriand's prose epic "Les Martyrs," the
+mystically sensual writings of Madame Krüdener, and the lyric poetry
+of Lamartine and Victor Hugo further popularised the reaction, which
+reached its breaking point in Lamennais.
+
+It was at this moment, April, 1824, that the news came of Byron's death
+in Greece. The illusion dissolved; the reaction came to an end. The
+principle of authority fell, never to rise again; and the Immanuelistic
+school was succeeded by the Satanic.
+
+
+_IV.--Naturalism in England_
+
+The distinguishing character which our author discovers in the English
+poets is a love of Nature, of the country and the sea, of domestic
+animals and vegetation. This Naturalism, common to Wordsworth,
+Coleridge, Scott, Keats, Moore, Shelley and Byron, becomes, when
+transferred to social interests, revolutionary; the English poet is
+a Radical. Literary questions interest him not; he is at heart a
+politician.
+
+The political background of English intellectual life at this period
+is painted forcibly and in the darkest tones. It was "dark with
+terror produced in the middle classes by the excesses of the liberty
+movement in France, dark with the tyrannic lusts of proud Tories and
+the Church's oppressions, dark with the spilt blood of Irish Catholics
+and English artisans." In the midst of all this misery, Wordsworth and
+Coleridge recalled the English mind to the love of real Nature and to
+the love of liberty. Wordsworth's conviction was that in town life
+and its distractions men had forgotten Nature, and had been punished
+for it; constant social intercourse had dissipated their talents and
+impaired their susceptibility to simple and pure impressions. His
+naturalism is antagonistic to all official creeds; it is akin to the
+old Greek conception of Nature, and is impregnated with pantheism.
+
+The separate studies which follow, dealing with the natural Romanticism
+of Coleridge, Southey's Oriental Romanticism, the Lake school's
+conception of Liberty, the Historic Naturalism of Scott, the sensuous
+poetry of Keats, the poetry of Irish opposition and revolt, Thomas
+Campbell's poetry of freedom, the Republican Humanism of Landor,
+Shelley's Radical Naturalism, and like subjects, are of the highest
+importance to every English reader who would understand the time in
+which he lives. But Byron's is the heroic figure in this act. "Byron's
+genius takes possession of him, and makes him great and victorious in
+his argument, directing his aim with absolute certainty to the vital
+points." Byron's whole being burned with the profoundest compassion
+for the immeasurable sufferings of humanity. It was liberty that he
+worshipped, and he died for liberty.
+
+
+_V.--The Romantic School in France_
+
+During the Revolution the national property had been divided into
+twenty times as many hands as before, and with the fall of Napoleon
+the industrial period begins. All restrictions had been removed
+from industry and commerce, and capital became the moving power of
+society and the object of individual desires. The pursuit of money
+helps to give to the literature of the day its romantic, idealistic
+stamp. Balzac alone, however, made money the hero of his epic. Other
+great writers of the period, Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, George
+Sand, Beyle, Mérimée, Théophile Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, kept as far as
+possible from the new reality.
+
+The young Romanticists of 1830 burned with a passion for art and a
+detestation of drab bourgeoisie. A break with tradition was demanded
+in all the arts; the original, the unconscious, the popular, were what
+they aimed at. It was now, as in Hugo's dramas, that the passionate
+plebeian appeared on the scene as hero; Mérimée, as in "Carmen,"
+painted savage emotions; Nodier's children spoke like real children;
+George Sand depicted, in woman, not conscious virtue and vice, but the
+innate nobility and natural goodness of a noble woman's heart. The poet
+was no longer looked on as a courtier, but as the despised high-priest
+of humanity.
+
+The French Romantic school is the greatest literary school of the
+nineteenth century. It displayed three main tendencies--the endeavour
+to reproduce faithfully some real piece of past history or some phase
+of modern life; the endeavour after perfection of form; and enthusiasm
+for great religious or social reformatory ideas. These three tendencies
+are traced out in the ideals and work of the brilliant authors of the
+period; in George Sand, for instance, who proclaimed that the mission
+of art is a mission of sentiment and love; and in Balzac, who views
+society as the scientist investigates Nature--"he never moralises and
+condemns; he never allows himself to be led by disgust or enthusiasm to
+describe otherwise than truthfully; nothing is too small, nothing is
+too great to be examined and explained."
+
+The impressions which our author gives of Sainte-Beuve, Gautier,
+George Sand, Balzac and Mérimée are vivid and concrete; they are high
+achievements in literary portraiture, set in a real historic background.
+
+
+_VI.--Young Germany_
+
+The personality, writings, and actions of Byron had an extraordinary
+influence upon "Young Germany," a movement initiated by Heine and
+Börne, and characterised by a strong craving for liberty. "Byron,
+with his contempt for the real negation of liberty that lay concealed
+beneath the 'wars of liberty' against Napoleon, with his championship
+of the oppressed, his revolt against social custom, his sensuality and
+spleen, his passionate love of liberty in every domain, seemed to the
+men of that day to be an embodiment of all that they understood by the
+modern spirit, modern poetry."
+
+The literary group known as Young Germany has no creative minds of the
+highest, and only one of very high rank, namely, Heine. "It denied, it
+emancipated, it cleared up, it let in fresh air. It is strong through
+its doubt, its hatred of thraldom, its individualism." The Germany of
+those days has been succeeded by a quite new Germany, organised to
+build up and to put forth material strength, and the writers of the
+first half of the nineteenth century, who were always praising France
+and condemning the sluggishness of their own country, are but little
+read.
+
+The literary figures of this period who are painted by our author, are
+Börne, Heine, Immermann, Menzel, Gutzkow, Laube, Mundt, Rahel Varnhagen
+von Ense, Bettina von Arnim, Charlotte Stieglitz, and many others, to
+whose writings, in conjunction with those of the French Romanticists,
+Brandes ascribes the general revolt of the oppressed peoples of Europe
+in 1848. Of the men of that date he says: "They had a faith that could
+remove mountains, and a hope that could shake the earth. Liberty,
+parliament, national unity, liberty of the Press, republic, were to
+them magic words, at the very sound of which their hearts leaped like
+the heart of a youth who suddenly sees his beloved."
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT BURTON
+
+The Anatomy of Melancholy
+
+  Robert Burton was born on February 8, 1576, of an old family, at
+  Lindley, Leicestershire, England; was educated at the free school
+  of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, and at Brasenose College,
+  Oxford, and in 1599 was elected student of Christ Church. In
+  1616 he was presented with the vicarage of St. Thomas, Oxford,
+  and in 1636 with the rectory of Segrave, in Leicestershire, and
+  kept both these livings until his death. But he lived chiefly
+  in his rooms at Christ Church, Oxford, where, burrowing in the
+  treasures of the Bodleian Library, he elaborated his learned
+  and whimsical book. He died on January 25, 1639, and was buried
+  in Christ Church Cathedral. The "Anatomy of Melancholy" is
+  an enormous compendium of sound sense, sly humour, universal
+  erudition, mediæval science, fantastic conceits, and noble
+  sentiments, arranged in the form of a most methodical treatise,
+  divided, and subdivided again, into sections dealing with every
+  conceivable aspect of this fell disorder. It is an intricate
+  tissue of quotations and allusions, and its interest lies as
+  much in its texture as in its argument. The "Anatomy" consists
+  of an introduction, "Democritus Junior to the Reader," and
+  then of three "Partitions," of which the first treats of the
+  Causes of Melancholy, the second of its Cure, and the third
+  of Love-Melancholy, wherewith is included the Melancholy of
+  Superstition.
+
+
+_I.--Democritus Junior to the Reader_
+
+Gentle reader, I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive to know what
+antic or personate actor this is that so insolently intrudes upon this
+common theatre to the world's view, arrogating another man's name;
+whence he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say. Seek not after
+that which is hid; if the contents please thee, suppose the man in the
+moon, or whom thou wilt, to be the author; I would not willingly be
+known.
+
+I have masked myself under this visard because, like Democritus,
+I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life in the
+university, penned up most part in my study. Though by my profession
+a divine, yet, out of a running wit, an unconstant, unsettled mind, I
+had a great desire to have some smattering in all subjects; which Plato
+commends as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a slave
+of one science, as most do, but to rove abroad, to have an oar in every
+man's boat, to taste of every dish, and to sip of every cup; which,
+saith Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle.
+
+I have little, I want nothing; all my treasure is in Minerva's tower.
+Though I lead a monastic life, myself my own theatre, I hear and see
+what is done abroad, how others run, ride, turmoil, in court and
+country. Amid the gallantry and misery of the world, jollity, pride,
+perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy, subtlety, knavery,
+candour, and integrity, I rub on in private, left to a solitary life
+and mine own domestic discontents.
+
+So I call myself Democritus, to assume a little more liberty of speech,
+or, if you will needs know, for that reason which Hippocrates relates,
+how, coming to visit him one day, he found Democritus in his garden
+at Abdera, under a shady bower, with a book on his knees, busy at
+his study, sometimes writing, sometimes walking. The subject of his
+book was melancholy and madness. About him lay the carcasses of many
+several beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomised; not that he did
+contemn God's creatures, but to find out the seat of this black bile,
+or melancholy, and how it is engendered in men's bodies, to the intent
+he might better cure it in himself, and by his writings teach others
+how to avoid it; which good intent of his Democritus Junior is bold to
+imitate, and because he left it imperfect and it is now lost, to revive
+again, prosecute, and finish in this treatise. I seek not applause; I
+fear good men's censures, and to their favourable acceptance I submit
+my labours. But as the barking of a dog I contemn those malicious and
+scurrile obloquies, flouts, calumnies of railers and detractors.
+
+Of the necessity of what I have said, if any man doubt of it, I shall
+desire him to make a brief survey of the world, as Cyprian adviseth
+Donate; supposing himself to be transported to the top of some high
+mountain, and thence to behold the tumults and chances of this wavering
+world, he cannot choose but either laugh at, or pity it. St. Hierom,
+out of a strong imagination, being in the wilderness, conceived that he
+saw them dancing in Rome; and if thou shalt climb to see, thou shalt
+soon perceive that all the world is mad, that it is melancholy, dotes;
+that it is a common prison of gulls, cheats, flatterers, etc., and
+needs to be reformed. Kingdoms and provinces are melancholy; cities
+and families, all creatures vegetal, sensible and rational, all sorts,
+sects, ages, conditions, are out of tune; from the highest to the
+lowest have need of physic. Who is not brain-sick? Oh, giddy-headed
+age! Mad endeavours! Mad actions!
+
+If Democritus were alive now, and should but see the superstition of
+our age, our religious madness, so many professed Christians, yet so
+few imitators of Christ, so much talk and so little conscience, so many
+preachers and such little practice, such variety of sects--how dost
+thou think he might have been affected? What would he have said to see,
+hear, and read so many bloody battles, such streams of blood able to
+turn mills, to make sport for princes, without any just cause? Men well
+proportioned, carefully brought up, able in body and mind, led like
+so many beasts to the slaughter in the flower of their years, without
+remorse and pity, killed for devils' food, 40,000 at once! At once?
+That were tolerable; but these wars last always; and for many ages,
+nothing so familiar as this hacking and hewing, massacres, murders,
+desolations! Who made creatures, so peaceable, born to love, mercy,
+meekness, so to rave like beasts and run to their own destruction?
+
+How would our Democritus have been affected to see so many lawyers,
+advocates, so many tribunals, so little justice; so many laws, yet
+never more disorders; the tribunal a labyrinth; to see a lamb executed,
+a wolf pronounce sentence? What's the market but a place wherein they
+cozen one another, a trap? Nay, what's the world itself but a vast
+chaos, a theatre of hypocrisy, a shop of knavery, a scene of babbling,
+the academy of vice? A warfare, in which you must kill or be killed,
+wherein every man is for himself; no charity, love, friendship, fear of
+God, alliance, affinity, consanguinity, can contain them. Our goddess
+is Queen Money, to whom we daily offer sacrifice. It's not worth,
+virtue, wisdom, valour, learning, honesty, religion, for which we are
+respected, but money, greatness, office, honour. All these things are
+easy to be discerned, but how would Democritus have been moved had he
+seen the secrets of our hearts! All the world is mad, and every member
+of it, and I can but wish myself and them a good physician, and all of
+us a better mind.
+
+
+_II.--The Causes of Melancholy_
+
+The impulsive cause of these miseries in man was the sin of our first
+parent, Adam; and this, belike, is that which our poets have shadowed
+unto us in the tale of Pandora's Box, which, being opened through
+her curiosity, filled the world full of all manner of diseases. But
+as our sins are the principal cause, so the instrumental causes of
+our infirmities are as diverse as the infirmities themselves. Stars,
+heavens, elements, and all those creatures which God hath made, are
+armed against sinners. But the greatest enemy to man is man, his own
+executioner, a wolf, a devil to himself and others. Again, no man
+amongst us so sound that hath not some impediment of body or mind.
+There are diseases acute and chronic, first and secondary, lethal,
+salutary, errant, fixed, simple, compound, etc. Melancholy is the most
+eminent of the diseases of the phantasy or imagination; and dotage,
+phrensy, madness, hydrophobia, lycanthropy, St. Vitus' dance, and
+ecstasy are forms of it.
+
+Melancholy is either in disposition or habit. In disposition it is that
+transitory melancholy which comes and goes upon every small occasion
+of sorrow; we call him melancholy that is dull, sad, sour, lumpish,
+ill-disposed, and solitary; and from these dispositions no man living
+is free; none so wise, patient, happy, generous, or godly, that can
+vindicate himself.
+
+Melancholy is a cold and dry, thick, black, and sour humour, purged
+from the spleen; it is a bridle to the other two hot humours, blood and
+choler, preserving them in the blood and nourishing the bones. Such as
+have the Moon, Saturn, Mercury, misaffected in their genitures; such as
+live in over-cold or over-hot climates; such as are solitary by nature;
+great students, given to much contemplation; such as lead a life out of
+action; all are most subject to melancholy.
+
+Six things are much spoken of amongst physicians as principal causes
+of this disease; if a man be melancholy, he hath offended in one of
+the six. They are diet, air, exercise, sleeping, and walking, and
+perturbations of the mind.
+
+Idleness, the badge of gentry, or want of exercise, the bane of body
+and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief author of all mischief,
+one of the seven deadly sins, and a sole cause of this and many other
+maladies, the devil's cushion and chief reposal, begets melancholy
+sooner than anything else. Such as live at ease, and have no ordinary
+employment to busy themselves about, cannot compose themselves to do
+aught; they cannot abide work, though it be necessary, easy, as to
+dress themselves, write a letter, or the like. He or she that is idle,
+be they never so rich, fortunate, happy, let them have all that heart
+can desire, they shall never be pleased, never well in body and mind,
+but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping,
+sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every
+object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away with some
+foolish phantasy or other.
+
+Others, giving way to the passions and perturbations of fear, grief,
+shame, revenge, hatred, malice, etc., are torn in pieces, as Actæon was
+with his dogs, and crucify their own souls. Every society and private
+family is full of envy; it takes hold of all sorts of men, from prince
+to ploughman; scarce three in a company, but there is siding, faction,
+emulation, between two of them, some jar, private grudge, heart-burning
+in the midst. Scarce two great scholars in an age, but with bitter
+invectives they fall foul one on the other. Being that we are so
+peevish and perverse, insolent and proud, so factious and seditious,
+malicious and envious, we do maul and vex one another, torture,
+disquiet, and precipitate ourselves into that gulf of woes and cares,
+aggravate our misery and melancholy, and heap upon us hell and eternal
+damnation.
+
+
+_III.--The Cure of Melancholy_
+
+"It matters not," saith Paracelsus, "whether it be God or the devil,
+angels or unclean spirits, cure him, so that he be eased." Some have
+recourse to witches; but much better were it for patients that are
+troubled with melancholy to endure a little misery in this life than
+to hazard their souls' health for ever. All unlawful cures are to be
+refused, and it remains to treat of those that are admitted.
+
+These are such as God hath appointed, by virtue of stones, herbs,
+plants, meats, and the like, which are prepared and applied to our use
+by the art and industry of physicians, God's intermediate ministers.
+We must begin with prayer and then use physic; not one without the
+other, but both together.
+
+Diet must be rectified in substance and in quantity; air rectified;
+for there is much in choice of place and of chamber, in opportune
+opening and shutting of windows, and in walking abroad at convenient
+times. Exercise must be rectified of body and mind. Hawking, hunting,
+fishing are good, especially the last, which is still and quiet, and
+if so be the angler catch no fish, yet he hath a wholesome walk and
+pleasant shade by the sweet silver streams. But the most pleasant of
+all pastimes is to make a merry journey now and then with some good
+companions, to visit friends, see cities, castles, towns, to walk
+amongst orchards, gardens, bowers, to disport in some pleasant plain.
+St. Bernard, in the description of his monastery, is almost ravished
+with the pleasures of it. "Good God," saith he, "what a company of
+pleasures hast Thou made for man!" But what is so fit and proper to
+expel idleness and melancholy as study? What so full of content as
+to read, and see maps, pictures, statues, jewels, and marbles, so
+exquisite to be beheld that, as Chrysostom thinketh, "if any man be
+sickly or troubled in mind, and shall but stand over against one of
+Phidias's images, he will forget all care in an instant?"
+
+If thou receivest wrong, compose thyself with patience to bear it.
+Thou shalt find greatest ease to be quiet. I say the same of scoffs,
+slanders, detractions, which tend to our disgrace; 'tis but opinion;
+if we would neglect or contemn them, they would reflect disgrace on
+them that offered them. "Yea, but I am ashamed, disgraced, degraded,
+exploded; my notorious crimes and villainies are come to light!" Be
+content; 'tis but a nine days' wonder; 'tis heavy, ghastly, fearful
+news at first, but thine offence will be forgotten in an instant. Thou
+art not the first offender, nor shalt thou be the last. If he alone
+should accuse thee that were faultless, how many executioners, how
+many accusers, would thou have? Shall every man have his desert, thou
+wouldst peradventure be a saint in comparison. Be not dismayed; it is
+human to err. Be penitent, ask forgiveness, and vex thyself no more.
+Doth the moon care for the barking of a dog?
+
+
+_IV.--Love-Melancholy_
+
+There will not be wanting those who will much discommend this treatise
+of love-melancholy, and object that it is too light for a divine,
+too phantastical, and fit only for a wanton poet. So that they may
+be admired for grave philosophers, and staid carriage, they cannot
+abide to hear talk of love-toys; in all their outward actions they are
+averse; and yet, in their cogitations, they are all but as bad, if not
+worse than others. I am almost afraid to relate the passions which this
+tyrant love causeth among men; it hath wrought such stupendous and
+prodigious effects, such foul offences.
+
+As there be divers causes of this heroical love, so there be many good
+remedies, among which good counsel and persuasion are of great moment,
+especially if it proceed from a wise, fatherly, discreet person. They
+will lament and howl for a while; but let him proceed, by foreshewing
+the miserable dangers that will surely happen, the pains of hell, joys
+of paradise, and the like; and this is a very good means, for love is
+learned of itself, but hardly left without a tutor.
+
+In sober sadness, marriage is a bondage, a thraldom, a hindrance to all
+good enterprises; "he hath married a wife, and therefore cannot come";
+a rock on which many are saved, many are cast away. Not that the thing
+is evil in itself, or troublesome, but full of happiness, and a thing
+which pleases God; but to indiscreet, sensual persons, it is a feral
+plague, many times an hell itself. If thy wife be froward, all is in
+an uproar; if wise and learned, she will be insolent and peevish; if
+poor, she brings beggary; if young, she is wanton and untaught. Say
+the best, she is a commanding servant; thou hadst better have taken a
+good housewifely maid in her smock. Since, then, there is such hazard,
+keep thyself as thou art; 'tis good to match, much better to be free.
+Consider withal how free, how happy, how secure, how heavenly, in
+respect, a single man is.
+
+But when all is said, since some be good, some bad, let's put it to the
+venture. Marry while thou mayest, and take thy fortune as it falls.
+Be not so covetous, so distrustful, so curious and nice, but let's
+all marry; to-morrow is St. Valentine's Day. Since, then, marriage
+is the last and best cure of heroical love, all doubts are cured and
+impediments removed; God send us all good wives!
+
+Take this for a corollory and conclusion; as thou tenderest thine own
+welfare in love-melancholy, in the melancholy of religion, and in all
+other melancholy; observe this short precept--Be not solitary; be not
+idle.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE
+
+On Heroes and Hero-Worship
+
+  This is the last of four series of lectures which Carlyle (see
+  Vol. IX, p. 99) delivered in London in successive years, and is
+  the only series which was published. The "Lectures on Heroes"
+  were given in May, 1840, and were published, with emendations
+  and additions, from the reporter's notes in 1841. The preceding
+  series were on "German Literature," 1837; "The Successive Periods
+  of European Culture," 1838; and "The Revolutions of Modern
+  Europe," 1839. Carlyle's profound and impassioned belief in the
+  quasi-divine inspiration of great men, in the authoritative
+  nature of their "message," and in their historical effectiveness,
+  was a reaction against a way of writing history which finds the
+  origin of events in "movements," "currents," and "tendencies"
+  neglecting or minimising the power of personality. For Carlyle,
+  biography was the essential element in history; his view of
+  events was the dramatic view, as opposed to the scientific
+  view. It is idle to inquire which is the better or truer view,
+  where both are necessary. But Carlyle is here specially tilting
+  against a prejudice which has so utterly passed away that it
+  is difficult even to imagine it. This was to the effect that
+  eminent historical figures have been in some sense impostors.
+  This work suffers a good deal from its origin, but, like others
+  of Carlyle's writings, it has had great effect in discrediting a
+  barren and flippant rationalism.
+
+
+_I.--The Hero as Divinity_
+
+We have undertaken to discourse on great men, their manner of
+appearance in our world's business, how they shaped themselves in the
+world's history, what ideas men formed of them, and what work they did.
+We are to treat of hero-worship and the heroic in human affairs. The
+topic is as wide as universal history itself, for the history of what
+man has accomplished in this world is, at bottom, the history of the
+great men who have worked here.
+
+It is well said that a man's religion is the chief fact with regard to
+him. I do not mean the Church creed which he professes, but the thing
+that he does practically believe, the manner in which he feels himself
+to be spiritually related to the unseen world. Was it heathenism, a
+plurality of gods, a mere sensuous representation of the mystery of
+life, and for chief recognised element therein physical force? Was it
+Christianism; faith in an Invisible as the only reality; time ever
+resting on eternity; pagan empire of force displaced by the nobler
+supremacy of holiness? Was it scepticism, uncertainty, and inquiry
+whether there was an unseen world at all, or perhaps unbelief and flat
+denial? The answer to these questions gives us the soul of the history
+of the man or nation.
+
+Odin, the central figure of Scandinavian paganism, shall be our emblem
+of the hero as divinity. And in the first place I protest against the
+theory that this paganism or any other religion has consisted of mere
+quackery, priestcraft, and dupery. Quackery gives birth to nothing;
+gives death to all. Man everywhere is the born enemy of lies, and
+paganism, to its followers, was at one time earnestly true. Nor can
+we admit that other theory, which attributed these mythologies to
+allegory, or to the play of poetic minds. Pagan religion, like every
+other, is indeed a symbol of what men felt about the universe, but a
+practical guiding knowledge of this mysterious life of theirs, and not
+a perfect poetic symbol of it, has been the want of men. The "Pilgrim's
+Progress" is a just and beautiful allegory, but it could never have
+preceded the faith which it symbolises. Men never risked their soul's
+life on allegories; there was a kind of fact at the heart of paganism.
+
+To the primitive pagan thinker, who was simple as a child, yet had
+a man's depth and strength, nature had as yet no name. It stood
+naked, flashing in on him, beautiful, awful, unspeakable; nature was
+preternatural. The world, which is now divine only to the gifted, was
+then divine to whosoever would turn his eye upon it. Still more was the
+body of man, and the mystery of his consciousness, an emblem to them of
+God, and truly worshipful.
+
+How much more, then, was the worship of a hero reasonable--the
+transcendent admiration of a great man! For great men are still
+admirable. At bottom there is nothing else admirable. Admiration for
+one higher than himself is to this hour the vivifying influence in
+man's life, and is the germ of Christianity itself. The greatest of all
+heroes is One whom we do not name here.
+
+Without doubt there was a first teacher and captain of these northern
+peoples, an Odin palpable to the sense, a real hero of flesh and blood.
+Tradition calls him inventor of the Runes, or Scandinavian alphabet,
+and again of poetry. To the wild Norse souls this noble-hearted man was
+hero, prophet, god. That the man Odin, speaking with a hero's voice and
+heart, as with an impressiveness out of Heaven, told his people the
+infinite importance of valour, how man thereby became a god; and that
+his people believed this message of his, and thought it a message out
+of Heaven, and believed him a divinity for telling it to them--this
+seems to me the primary seed-grain of the Norse religion. For that
+religion was a sternly impressive consecration of valour.
+
+
+_II.--The Hero as Prophet_
+
+We turn now to Mohammedanism among the Arabs for the second phase of
+hero-worship, wherein the hero is not now regarded as a god, but as
+one God-inspired, a prophet. Mohammed is not the most eminent prophet,
+but is the one of whom we are freest to speak. Nor is he the truest of
+prophets but I do esteem him a true one. Let us try to understand what
+he meant with the world; what the world meant and means with him will
+then be more answerable.
+
+Certainly he was no scheming impostor, no falsehood incarnate; theories
+of that kind are the product of an age of scepticism, and indicate the
+saddest spiritual paralysis. A false man found a religion? Why, a false
+man cannot build a brick house! No Mirabeau, Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell,
+no man adequate to do anything, but is first of all in right earnest
+about it. Sincerity is the great characteristic of all men in any way
+heroic.
+
+The Arabs are a notable people; their country itself is notable.
+Consider that wide, waste horizon of sand, empty, silent like a sea;
+you are all alone there, left alone with the universe; by day a fierce
+sun blazing down with intolerable radiance; by night the great deep
+heaven, with its stars--a fit country for a swift-handed, deep-hearted
+race of men. The Arab character is agile, active, yet most meditative,
+enthusiastic. Hospitable, taciturn, earnest, truthful, deeply
+religious, the Arabs were a people of great qualities, waiting for the
+day when they should become notable to all the world.
+
+Here, in the year 570 of our era, the man Mohammed was born, and grew
+up in the bosom of the wilderness, alone with Nature and his own
+thoughts. From an early age he had been remarked as a thoughtful man,
+and his companions named him "The Faithful." He was forty before he
+talked of any mission from Heaven. All this time living a peaceful
+life, he was looking through the shows of things into things themselves.
+
+Then, having withdrawn to a cavern near Mecca for a month of prayer and
+meditation, he told his wife Kadijah that, by the unspeakable favour of
+Heaven, he was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all. That
+all these idols and formulas were nothing; that there was one God in
+and over all; that God is great and is the reality. _Allah akbar_,
+"God is great"; and then _Islam_, "we must submit to Him."
+
+This is yet the only true morality known. A man is right and
+invincible, while he joins himself to the great deep law of the
+world, in spite of all superficial laws, temporary appearances,
+profit-and-loss calculations. This is the soul of Islam, and is
+properly also the soul of Christianity. We are to receive whatever
+befalls us as sent from God above. Islam means in its way the denial
+of self, annihilation of self. This is yet the highest wisdom that
+Heaven has revealed to our earth. In Mohammed, and in his Koran, I
+find first of all sincerity, the total freedom from cant. For these
+twelve centuries his religion has been the guidance of a fifth part of
+mankind, and, above all, it has been a religion heartily believed.
+
+The Arab nation was a poor shepherd people; a hero-prophet was sent
+down to them; within one century afterwards Arabia is at Grenada on
+this hand, at Delhi on that!
+
+
+_III.--The Hero as Poet_
+
+The hero as divinity and as prophet are productions of old ages, not
+to be repeated in the new. We are now to see our hero in the less
+ambitious, but also less questionable, character of poet. For the hero
+can be poet, prophet, king, priest, or what you will, according to the
+kind of world he finds himself born into. I have no notion of a truly
+great man that could not be all sorts of men.
+
+Indeed, the poet and prophet, participators in the open secret of the
+universe, are one; though the prophet has seized the sacred mystery
+rather on its moral side, and the poet on the æsthetic side. Poetry is
+essentially a song; its thoughts are musical not in word only, but in
+heart and in substance.
+
+Shakespeare and Dante are our two canonised poets; they dwell
+apart, none equal, none second to them. Dante's book was written, in
+banishment, with his heart's blood. His great soul, homeless on earth,
+made its home more and more in that awful other world. The three
+kingdoms--_Inferno_, _Purgatorio_, _Paradiso_--are like compartments of
+a great supernatural world-cathedral, piled up there, stern, solemn,
+awful; Dante's world of souls. It is the sincerest of all poems.
+Sincerity here, too, we find to be the measure of worth. Intensity is
+the prevailing character of his genius; his greatness lies in fiery
+emphasis and depth; it is seen even in the graphic vividness of his
+painting. Dante burns as a pure star, fixed in the firmament, at which
+the great and high of all ages kindle themselves.
+
+As Dante embodies musically the inner life of the Middle Ages, so
+Shakespeare embodies for us its outer life, its chivalries, courtesies,
+humours, ambitions. Dante gave us the soul of Europe; Shakespeare gave
+us its body. Of this Shakespeare of ours, the best judgment of Europe
+is slowly pointing to the conclusion that he is the chief of all poets,
+the greatest intellect who has left record of himself in the way of
+literature.
+
+It is in portrait-painting, the delineation of men, that the greatness
+of Shakespeare comes out most decisively. His calm, creative
+perspicacity is unexampled. The word that will describe the thing
+follows of itself from such clear intense sight of the thing. He takes
+in all kinds of men--a Falstaff, Othello, Juliet, Coriolanus; sets them
+all forth to us in their rounded completeness, loving, just, the equal
+brother of all.
+
+The degree of vision that dwells in a man is a correct measure of
+the man, and Shakespeare's is the greatest of intellects. Novalis
+beautifully remarks of him that those dramas of his are products of
+nature, too, deep as nature herself. Shakespeare's art is not artifice;
+the noblest worth of it is not there by plan or pre-contrivance. The
+latest generations of men will find new meanings in Shakespeare, new
+elucidations of their own human being.
+
+Shakespeare, too, was a prophet, in his way, of an insight analogous to
+the prophetic, though he took it up in another strain. Nature seemed to
+this man also divine, unspeakable, deep as Tophet, high as heaven. "We
+are such stuff as dreams are made of." There rises a kind of universal
+psalm out of Shakespeare, not unfit to make itself heard among the
+still more sacred psalms.
+
+England, before long, this island of ours, will hold but a small
+fraction of the English; east and west to the antipodes there will be a
+Saxondom covering great spaces of the globe. What is it that can keep
+all these together into virtually one nation, so that they do not fall
+out and fight, but live at peace? Here, I say, is an English king whom
+no time or chance can dethrone! King Shakespeare shines over us all, as
+the noblest, gentlest, yet strongest of rallying-signs; we can fancy
+him as radiant aloft over all the nations of Englishmen, a thousand
+years hence. Truly it is a great thing for a nation that it gets an
+articulate voice.
+
+
+_IV.--The Hero as Priest_
+
+The priest, too, is a kind of prophet. In him, also, there is required
+to be a light of inspiration. He presides over the worship of the
+people, and is the uniter of them with the unseen Holy. He is their
+spiritual captain, as the prophet is their spiritual king with many
+captains.
+
+Luther and Knox were by express vocation priests, yet it will suit us
+better here to consider them chiefly in their historical character as
+reformers. The battling reformer is from time to time a needful and
+inevitable phenomenon. Obstructions are never wanting; the very things
+that were once indispensable furtherances become obstructions, and
+need to be shaken off and left behind us--a business often of enormous
+difficulty.
+
+We are to consider Luther as an idol-breaker, a bringer back of men to
+reality, for that is the function of great men and teachers. Thus it
+was that Luther said to the Pope, "This thing of yours that you call a
+pardon of sins, is a bit of rag-paper with ink. It, and so much like
+it, is nothing else. God alone can pardon sins. God's Church is not a
+semblance, Heaven and Hell are not semblances. Standing on this, I, a
+poor German monk, am stronger than you all."
+
+The most interesting phase which the Reformation anywhere assumes
+is that of Puritanism, which even got itself established as a
+Presbyterianism and National Church among the Scotch, and has produced
+in the world very notable fruit. Knox was the chief priest and founder
+of that faith which became the faith of Scotland, of New England, of
+Oliver Cromwell; and that which Knox did for his nation we may really
+call a resurrection as from death. The people began to live. Scotch
+literature and thought, Scotch industry, James Watt, David Hume, Walter
+Scott, Robert Burns--I find Knox and the Reformation acting in the
+heart's core of every one of these persons and phenomena; I find that
+without the Reformation they would not have been.
+
+Knox could not live but by fact. He is an instance to us how a
+man, by sincerity itself, becomes heroic. We find in Knox a good,
+honest, intellectual talent, no transcendent one; he was a narrow,
+inconsiderable man as compared with Luther; but in heartfelt,
+instinctive adherence to truth, in real sincerity, he has no superior.
+His heart is of the true prophet cast. "He lies there," said the Earl
+of Morton, at his grave, "who never feared the face of man."
+
+
+_V.--The Hero as Man of Letters_
+
+The hero as man of letters is a new and singular phenomenon. Living
+in his squalid garret and rusty coat; ruling from his grave after
+death whole nations and generations; he must be regarded as our most
+important modern person. Such as he may be, he is the soul of all.
+Intrinsically it is the same function which the old generations named a
+prophet, priest, or divinity for doing.
+
+The three great prophets of the eighteenth century, that singular
+age of scepticism, were Johnson, Rousseau, and Burns; they were not,
+indeed, heroic bringers of the light, but heroic seekers of it,
+struggling under mountains of impediment.
+
+As for Johnson, I have always considered him to be, by nature, one of
+our great English souls. It was in virtue of his sincerity, of his
+speaking still in some sort from the heart of nature, though in the
+current artificial dialect, that Johnson was a prophet. The highest
+gospel he preached was a kind of moral prudence, coupled with this
+other great gospel, "Clear your mind of cant!" These two things, joined
+together, were, perhaps, the greatest gospel that was possible at that
+time.
+
+Of Rousseau and his heroism I cannot say so much. He was not a strong
+man; but a morbid, excitable, spasmodic man; at best, intense rather
+than strong. Yet, at least he was heartily in earnest, if ever man was;
+his ideas possessed him like demons.
+
+The fault and misery of Rousseau was egoism, which is the source and
+summary of all faults and miseries whatsoever. He had not perfected
+himself into victory over mere desire; a mean hunger was still his
+motive principle. He was a very vain man, hungry for the praises of
+men. The whole nature of the man was poisoned; there was nothing but
+suspicion, self-isolation, and fierce, moody ways.
+
+And yet this Rousseau, with his celebrations of nature, even of savage
+life in nature, did once more touch upon reality and struggle towards
+reality. Strangely through all that defacement, degradation, and almost
+madness, there is in the inmost heart of poor Rousseau a spark of
+real heavenly fire. Out of all that withered, mocking philosophism,
+scepticism, and persiflage of his day there has arisen in this man the
+ineradicable feeling and knowledge that this life of ours is true, not
+a theorem, but a fact.
+
+The French Revolution found its evangelist in Rousseau. His
+semi-delirious speculations on the miseries of civilised life, and such
+like, helped to produce a delirium in France generally. It is difficult
+to say what the governors of the world could do with such a man. What
+he could do with them is clear enough--guillotine a great many of them.
+
+The tragedy of Burns's life is known to all. The largest soul of all
+the British lands appeared under every disadvantage; uninstructed,
+poor, born only to hard manual toil; and writing, when it came to that,
+in a rustic special dialect, known only to a small province of the
+country he lived in.
+
+We find in Burns a noble, rough genuineness, the true simplicity of
+strength, and a deep and earnest element of sunshine and joyfulness;
+yet the chief quality, both of his poetry and of his life, is
+sincerity--a wild wrestling with the truth of things.
+
+
+_VI.--The Hero as King_
+
+The commander over men, to whose will our wills are to be subordinated
+and loyally surrender themselves, and find their welfare in doing
+so, may be reckoned the most important of great men. He is called
+_Rex_, "Regulator"; our own name is still better--king, which means
+"can-ning," "able-man."
+
+In rebellious ages, when kingship itself seems dead and abolished,
+Cromwell and Napoleon step forth again as kings. The old ages are
+brought back to us; the manner in which kings were made, and kingship
+itself first took rise, is again exhibited in the history of these two.
+
+The war of the Puritans was a section of that universal war which alone
+makes up the true history of the world--the war of Belief against
+Unbelief; the struggle of men intent on the real essence of things,
+against men intent on the semblances and forms of things. And among
+these Puritans Cromwell stood supreme, grappling like a giant, face
+to face, heart to heart, with the naked truth of things. Yet Cromwell
+alone finds no hearty apologist anywhere. Selfish ambition, dishonesty,
+duplicity; a fierce, coarse, hypocritical Tartuffe; turning all that
+noble struggle for constitutional liberty into a sorry farce played for
+his own benefit. This, and worse, is the character they give him.
+
+From of old, this theory of Cromwell's falsity has been incredible to
+me. All that we know of him betokens an earnest, hearty sincerity.
+Everywhere we have to note his decisive, practical eye, how he drives
+towards the practicable, and has a genuine insight into what is fact.
+Such an intellect does not belong to a false man; the false man sees
+false shows, plausibilities, expediences; the true man is needed to
+discern even practical truth.
+
+Napoleon by no means seems to me so great a man as Cromwell. His
+enormous victories which reached over all Europe, while Cromwell abode
+mainly in our little England, are but as the high stilts on which the
+man is seen standing; the stature of the man is not altered thereby. I
+find in him no such sincerity as in Cromwell; only a far inferior sort.
+
+"False as a bulletin," became a proverb in Napoleon's time. Yet he had
+a sincerity, a certain instinctive, ineradicable feeling for reality;
+and did base himself upon fact, so long as he had any basis. He had an
+instinct of Nature better than his culture was. His companions, we are
+told, were one evening busily occupied arguing that there could be no
+God; they had proved it by all manner of logic. Napoleon, looking up
+into the stars, answers, "Very ingenious, Messieurs; but who made all
+that?" The atheistic logic runs off from him like water; the great fact
+stares him in the face. So, too, in practice; he, as every man that can
+be great, sees, through all entanglements, the practical heart of the
+matter, and drives straight towards that.
+
+Accordingly, there was a faith in him, genuine so far as it went. That
+this new, enormous democracy is an insuppressible fact, which the
+whole world cannot put down--this was a true insight of his, and took
+his conscience and enthusiasm along with it. And did he not interpret
+the dim purport of it well? _La carrière ouverte aux talents_--"the
+implements to him who can handle them"--this actually is the truth, and
+even the whole truth; it includes whatever the French Revolution or any
+revolution could mean. It is a great, true message from our last great
+man.
+
+
+
+
+Sartor Resartus
+
+  "Sartor Resartus," first published in "Frazer's Magazine" in
+  1833-34, is Thomas Carlyle's most popular work, and is largely
+  autobiographical.
+
+
+I.--_The Philosophy of Clothes_
+
+Considering our present advanced state of culture, and how the torch
+of science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or
+less effect, for five thousand years and upwards, it is surprising
+that hitherto little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether
+in the way of philosophy or history, has been written on the subject
+of clothes. Every other tissue has been dissected, but the vestural
+tissue of woollen or other cloth, which man's soul wears as its outmost
+wrappage, has been quite overlooked. All speculation has tacitly
+figured man as a clothed animal, whereas he is by nature a naked
+animal, and only in certain circumstances, by purpose and device, masks
+himself in clothes.
+
+But here, as in so many other cases, learned, indefatigable,
+deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid. The editor of these sheets
+has lately received a new book from Professor Teufelsdröckh, of
+Weissnichtwo, treating expressly of "Clothes, their Origin and
+Influence" (1831). This extensive volume, a very sea of thought,
+discloses to us not only a new branch of philosophy, but also
+the strange personal character of Professor Teufelsdröckh, which
+is scarcely less interesting. We were just considering how the
+extraordinary doctrines of this book might best be imparted to our
+own English nation, when we received a letter from Herr Hofrath
+Heuschrecke, our professor's chief associate, offering us the requisite
+documents for a biography of Teufelsdröckh. This was the origin of our
+"Sartor Resartus," now presented in the vehicle of "Frazer's Magazine."
+
+Professor Teufelsdröckh, when we knew him at Weissnichtwo, lived a
+still and self-contained life, devoted to the higher philosophies and
+to a certain speculative radicalism. The last words that he spoke in
+our hearing were to propose a toast in the coffee-house--"The cause of
+the poor, in heaven's name and the devil's." But we looked for nothing
+moral from him, still less anything didactico-religious.
+
+Brave Teufelsdröckh, who could tell what lurked in thee? In thine eyes,
+deep under thy shaggy brows, and looking out so still and dreamy,
+have we not noticed gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire?
+Our friend's title was that of Professor of Things in General, but he
+never delivered any course. We used to sit with him in his attic,
+overlooking the town; he would contemplate that wasp-nest or bee-hive
+spread out below him, and utter the strangest thoughts. "That living
+flood, pouring through these streets, is coming from eternity, going
+onward to eternity. These are apparitions. What else?" Thus he lived
+and meditated with Heuschrecke as Boswell for his Johnson.
+
+"As Montesquieu wrote a 'Spirit of Laws,'" observes our professor, "so
+could I write a 'Spirit of Clothes,' for neither in tailoring nor in
+legislating does man proceed by mere accident, but the hand is ever
+guided by the mysterious operations of the mind." And so he deals with
+Paradise and fig-leaves, and proceeds to view the costumes of all
+mankind, in all countries, in all times.
+
+The first purpose of clothes, he imagines, was not warmth or decency,
+but ornament. "Yet what have they not become? Increased security
+and pleasurable heat soon followed; divine shame or modesty, as yet
+a stranger to the anthropophagous bosom, arose there mysteriously
+under clothes, a mystic shrine for the holy in man. Clothes gave us
+individuality, distinctions, social polity; clothes have made men of
+us; they are threatening to make clothes-screens of us."
+
+Teufelsdröckh dwells chiefly on the seams, tatters, and unsightly
+wrong-side of clothes, but he has also a superlative transcendentalism.
+To him, man is a soul, a spirit, and divine apparition, whose flesh
+and senses are but a garment. He deals much in the feeling of wonder,
+insisting that wonder is the only reasonable temper for the denizen
+of our planet. "Wonder," he says, "is the basis of worship," and
+that progress of science, which is to destroy wonder and substitute
+mensuration and numeration, finds small favour with him. "Clothes,
+despicable as we think them, are unspeakably significant."
+
+
+_II.--Biography of Teufelsdröckh_
+
+So far as we can gather from the disordered papers which have been
+placed in our hands, the genesis of Diogenes Teufelsdröckh is obscure.
+We see nothing but an exodus out of invisibility into visibility.
+In the village of Entepfuhl we find a childless couple, verging on
+old age. Andreas Futteral, who has been a grenadier sergeant under
+Frederick the Great, is now cultivating a little orchard. To him and
+Gretchen his wife there entered one evening a stranger of reverend
+aspect, who deposited a silk-covered basket, saying, "Good people, here
+is an invaluable loan; take all heed thereof; with high recompense, or
+else with heavy penalty, will it one day be required back." Therein
+they found, as soon as he had departed, a little infant in the softest
+sleep. Our philosopher tells us that this story, told him in his
+twelfth year, produced a quite indelible impression. Who was his
+unknown father, whom he was never able to meet?
+
+We receive glimpses of his childhood, schooldays, and university life,
+and then meet with him in that difficulty, common to young men, of
+"getting under way." "Not what I have," he says, "but what I do, is my
+kingdom; and we should grope throughout our lives from one expectation
+and disappointment to another were we not saved by one thing--our
+hunger." He had thrown up his legal profession, and found himself
+without landmark of outward guidance; whereby his previous want of
+decided belief, or inward guidance, is frightfully aggravated. So he
+sets out over an unknown sea; but a certain Calypso Island at the very
+outset falsifies his whole reckoning.
+
+"Nowhere," he says, "does Heaven so immediately reveal itself to the
+young man as in the young maiden. The feeling of our young forlorn
+towards the queens of this earth was, and indeed is, altogether
+unspeakable. A visible divinity dwelt in them; to our young friend all
+women were holy, were heavenly. And if, on a soul so circumstanced,
+some actual air-maiden should cast kind eyes, saying thereby, 'Thou
+too mayest love and be loved,' and so kindle him--good Heaven, what an
+all-consuming fire were probably kindled!"
+
+Such a fire of romance did actually burst forth in Herr Diogenes.
+We know not who "Blumine" was, nor how they met. She was young,
+hazel-eyed, beautiful, high-born, and of high spirit, but unhappily
+dependent and insolvent, living perhaps on the bounty of moneyed
+relatives. "To our friend the hours seemed moments; holy was he and
+happy; the words from those sweetest lips came over him like dew on
+thirsty grass. At parting, the Blumine's hand was in his; in the balmy
+twilight, with the kind stars above them, he spoke something of meeting
+again, which was not contradicted; he pressed gently those soft,
+small fingers, and it seemed as if they were not hastily, not angrily
+withdrawn."
+
+Poor Teufelsdröckh, it is clear to demonstration thou art smit!
+Flame-clad, thou art scaling the upper Heaven, and verging towards
+insanity, for prize of a high-souled brunette, as if the earth held but
+one and not several of these! "One morning, he found his morning-star
+all dimmed and dusky-red; doomsday had dawned; they were to meet no
+more!" Their lips were joined for the first time and the last, and
+Teufelsdröckh was made immortal by a kiss. And then--"thick curtains
+of night rushed over his soul, and he fell, through the ruins as of a
+shivered universe, towards the abyss."
+
+He quietly lifts his pilgrim-staff, and begins a perambulation and
+circumambulation of the terraqueous globe. We find him in Paris, in
+Vienna, in Tartary, in the Sahara, flying with hunger always parallel
+to him, and a whole infernal chase in his rear. He traverses mountains
+and valleys with aimless speed, writing with footprints his sorrows,
+that his spirit may free herself, and he become a man. Vain truly
+is the hope of your swiftest runner to escape from his own shadow!
+We behold him, through these dim years, in a state of crisis, of
+transition; his aimless pilgrimings are but a mad fermentation,
+wherefrom, the fiercer it is, the clearer product will one day evolve
+itself.
+
+Man has no other possession but hope; this world of his is emphatically
+the "Place of Hope"; yet our professor, for the present, is quite shut
+out from hope. As he wanders wearisomely through this world he has
+now lost all tidings of another and higher. "Doubt," says he, "had
+darkened into unbelief." It is all a grim desert, this once fair world
+of his; and no pillar of cloud by day, and no pillar of fire by night,
+any longer guides the pilgrim. "Invisible yet impenetrable walls, as
+of enchantment, divided me from all living; was there, in the wide
+world, any true bosom I could press trustfully to mine? O Heaven, no,
+there was none! To me the universe was all void of life, of purpose,
+of volition, even of hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable
+steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb
+from limb. O, the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and mill of death!
+
+"Full of such humour, and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole
+French capital or suburbs, was I, one sultry dog-day, after much
+perambulation, toiling along the dirty little Rue Saint Thomas de
+l'Enfer, among civic rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over
+pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar's furnace; whereby doubtless my spirits
+were a little cheered; when, all at once, there rose a thought in
+me, and I asked myself, 'What _art_ thou afraid of? Wherefore, like
+a coward, dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering and
+trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that
+lies before thee? Death? Well, death; and say the pangs of Tophet too,
+and all that the devil and man may, will, or can do against thee! Hast
+thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatever it be; and, as a
+child of freedom, though outcast, trample Tophet itself under thy feet,
+while it consumes thee? Let it come, then; I will meet it and defy it!'
+And, as I so thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole
+soul; and I shook base fear away from me for ever. Ever from that time,
+the temper of my misery was changed; not fear or whining sorrow was it,
+but indignation and grim fire-eyed defiance.
+
+"Thus had the _Everlasting No_ pealed authoritatively through all the
+recesses of my being, of my _Me_; and then was it that my whole _Me_
+stood up, in native God-created majesty, and with emphasis recorded its
+protest. The Everlasting No had said, 'Behold, thou art fatherless,
+outcast, and the universe is mine, the devil's'; to which my whole _Me_
+now made answer, 'I am not thine, but free, and for ever hate thee!'
+
+"It is from this hour that I incline to date my spiritual new-birth,
+or Baphometic Fire-baptism; perhaps I directly thereupon began to be a
+man."
+
+Our wanderer's unrest was for a time but increased. "Indignation and
+defiance are not the most peaceable inmates," yet it was no longer
+a quite hopeless unrest. He looked away from his own sorrows, over
+the many-coloured world, and few periods of his life were richer in
+spiritual culture than this. He had reached the Centre of Indifference
+wherein he had accepted his own nothingness. "I renounced utterly, I
+would hope no more and fear no more. To die or to live was to me alike
+insignificant. Here, then, as I lay in that Centre of Indifference,
+cast by benignant upper influence into a healing sleep, the heavy
+dreams rolled gradually away, and I awoke to a new heaven and a new
+earth. I saw that man can do without happiness and instead thereof find
+blessedness. Love not pleasure; love God. This is the _Everlasting
+Yea_, wherein all contradiction is solved; wherein whoso walks and
+works, it is well with him. In this poor, miserable, hampered,
+despicable Actual, wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere is
+thy Ideal; work it out therefrom; and working, believe, live, be free!
+Produce! produce! Work while it is called to-day."
+
+
+_III.--The Volume on Clothes_
+
+In so capricious a work as this of the professor's, our course
+cannot be straightforward, but only leap by leap, noting significant
+indications here and there. Thus, "perhaps the most remarkable incident
+in modern history," he says, "is George Fox's making to himself a suit
+of leather, when, desiring meditation and devout prayer to God, he
+took to the woods, chose the hollow of a tree for his lodging and wild
+berries for his food, and for clothes stitched himself one perennial
+suit of leather. Then was there in broad Europe one free man, and Fox
+was he!"
+
+Under the title "Church-Clothes," by which Teufelsdröckh signifies the
+forms, the vestures, under which men have at various periods embodied
+and represented for themselves the religious principle, he says, "These
+are unspeakably the most important of all the vestures and garnitures
+of human existence. Church-clothes are first spun and woven by society;
+outward religion originates by society; society becomes possible by
+religion."
+
+Of "symbols," as means of concealment and yet of revelation, thus
+uniting in themselves the efficacies at once of speech and of silence,
+our professor writes, "In the symbol proper there is ever, more or
+less distinctly and directly, some embodiment and revelation of the
+Infinite; the Infinite is made to blend itself with the finite; to
+stand visible, and, as it were, attainable there. Of this sort are all
+true works of art; in them, if thou know a work of art from a daub of
+artifice, wilt thou discern eternity looking through time; the God-like
+rendered visible. But nobler than all in this kind are the lives of
+heroic God-inspired men, for what other work of art is so divine?" And
+again, "Of this be certain, wouldst thou plant for eternity, then plant
+into the deep infinite faculties of man, his fantasy and heart; wouldst
+thou plant for year and day, then plant into his shallow superficial
+faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding."
+
+As for Helotage, or that lot of the poor wherein no ray of heavenly nor
+even of earthly knowledge visits him, Teufelsdröckh says, "That there
+should one man die ignorant who had capacity for knowledge, this I call
+a tragedy, were it to happen more than twenty times in the minute."
+
+In another place, our professor meditates upon the awful procession of
+mankind. "Like a God-created, fire-breathing spirit-host, we emerge
+from the inane; haste stormfully across the astonished earth; then
+plunge again into the inane. But whence?--O Heaven, whither? Sense
+knows not; Faith knows not; only that it is through mystery to mystery,
+from God and to God.
+
+   "We are such stuff
+    As dreams are made of, and our little life
+    Is rounded with a sleep!"
+
+
+
+
+MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
+
+Concerning Friendship
+
+  The dialogue "Concerning Friendship" was composed immediately
+  after the assassination of Julius Cæsar, and was suggested by the
+  conduct of certain friends of the mighty dead, who were trying,
+  in the name of friendship, to inflame the populace against the
+  cause of the conspirators. (Cicero biography, see Vol. IX, p.
+  155, and also p. 274 of the present volume.)
+
+
+_A Dialogue_
+
+FANNIUS: I agree with you, Lælius; never was man better known for
+justice or for glory than Scipio Africanus. That is why everyone in
+Rome is looking to you; everyone is asking me, and Scævola here, how
+the wise Lælius is bearing the loss of his dead friend. For they call
+you wise, you know, in the same sense as the oracle called Socrates
+wise, because you believe that your happiness depends on yourself
+alone, and that virtue can fortify the soul against every calamity. May
+we know, then, how you bear your sorrow?
+
+SCÆVOLA: He says truly; many have asked me the same question. I tell
+them that you are composed and patient, though deeply touched by the
+death of your dearest friend, and one of the greatest of men.
+
+LÆLIUS: You have answered well. True it is that I sorrow for a friend
+whose like I shall never see again; but it is also true that I need
+no consolations, since I believe that no evil has befallen Scipio.
+Whatever misfortune there is, is my misfortune, and any immoderate
+distress would show self-love, not love for him. What a man he was!
+Well, he is in heaven; and I sometimes hope that the friendship of
+Scipio and Lælius may live in human memory.
+
+FANNIUS: Yes--your friendship: what do you believe about friendship?
+
+SCÆVOLA: That's what we want to know.
+
+LÆLIUS: Who am I, to speak on such a subject all on a sudden? You
+should go to these Greek professionals, who can spin you a discourse
+on anything at a moment's notice. For my part, I can only advise
+this--prize friendship above all earthly things. We seem to be made
+for friendship; it is our great stand-by whether in weal or woe. Yet
+I can say this too: friendship cannot be except among the good. I
+don't mean a fantastical and unattainable pitch of goodness such as
+the philosophers prate about; I mean the genuine, commonplace goodness
+of flesh and blood, that actually exists. I mean such men as live in
+honour, justice, and liberality, and are consistent, and are neither
+covetous nor licentious, nor brazen-faced; such men are good enough for
+us, because they follow Nature as far as they can.
+
+Friendship consists of a perfect conformity of opinion upon all
+subjects, divine and human, together with a feeling of kindness and
+attachment. And though some prefer riches, health, power, honours,
+or even pleasure, no greater boon than friendship, with the single
+exception of wisdom, has been given by the gods to man. It is quite
+true that our highest good depends on virtue; but virtue inevitably
+begets and nourishes friendship. What a part, for instance, friendship
+has played in the lives of the good men we have known--the Catos, the
+Galli, the Scipios, and the like!
+
+How manifold, again, are its benefits! What greater delight is there
+than to have one with whom you may talk as if with yourself? One who
+will joy in your good fortune, and bear the heaviest end of your
+burdens! Other things are good for particular purposes, friendship
+for all; neither water nor fire has so many uses. But in one respect
+friendship transcends everything else: it throws a brilliant gleam of
+hope over the future, and banishes despondency. Whoever has a true
+friend sees in him a reflection of himself; and each is strong in the
+strength and rich in the wealth of the other.
+
+If you consider that the principle of harmony and benevolence is
+necessary to the very existence of families and states, you will
+understand how high a thing is friendship, in which that harmony and
+benevolence reach their perfect flower. There was a philosopher of
+Agrigentum who explained the properties of matter and the movements of
+bodies in terms of affection and repulsion; and however that may be,
+everyone knows that these are the real forces in human life. Who does
+not applaud the friendship that shares in mortal dangers, whether in
+real life or in the play?
+
+SCÆVOLA: You speak highly of friendship. What are its principles and
+duties?
+
+LÆLIUS: Do we desire a friend because of our own weakness and
+deficiency, in order that we may obtain from him what we lack
+ourselves, repaying him by reciprocal service? Or is all that only an
+incident of friendship, and does the bond derive from a remoter and
+more beautiful origin, in the heart of Nature herself? For my part,
+I take the latter view. Friendship is a natural emotion, and not an
+arrangement of convenience. Its character may be recognised even in
+the lower animals, and much more plainly in the love of human parents
+for their children, and, most of all, in our affection for a congenial
+friend, whom we see in an atmosphere of virtue and worth.
+
+The other is not an ignoble theory, but it leaves us in the difficulty
+that if it were true, the weakest, meanest, and poorest of humanity
+would be the most inclined to friendship. But it is the strong, rich,
+independent, and self-reliant man, deeply founded in wisdom and
+dignity, who makes great friendships. What did Africanus need of me, or
+I of him? Advantages followed, but they did not lead. But there are
+people who will always be referring everything to the one principle of
+self-advantage; they have no eyes for anything great and god-like. Let
+us leave such theorists alone; the plain fact is, that whenever worth
+is seen, love for it is enkindled. Associations founded upon interest
+presently dissolve, because interest changes; but Nature never changes,
+and therefore true friendships are imperishable.
+
+Scipio used to say that it was exceedingly difficult to carry on a
+friendship to the end of life, because the paths of interest so often
+diverge. There may be competition for office, or a dishonorable request
+may be refused, or some other accident may be fatal to the bond. This
+refusal to join in a nefarious course of action is often the end of a
+friendship, and it is worth inquiring how far the claims of affection
+ought to extend. Tiberius Gracchus, when he troubled the state, was
+deserted by almost all his friends; one of them who had assisted him
+told me that he had such high regard for Gracchus that he could refuse
+him nothing. "But what," said I, "if he had asked you to set fire to
+the capitol?" "I would have done it!"
+
+What an infamous confession! No degree of friendship can justify
+a crime; and since virtue is the foundation of friendship, crime
+must inevitably undermine it. Let this, then, be the rule of
+friendship--never to make disgraceful requests, and never to grant them
+when they are made.
+
+Among the perverse, over-subtle ideas of certain Greek philosophers is
+the maxim that we should be very cool in the matter of friendship. They
+say that we have enough to do with our own affairs, without taking on
+other people's affairs too; and that our minds cannot be serenely at
+leisure if we are liable to be tortured by the sorrows of a friend.
+They advise, also, that friendships should be sought for the sake of
+protection, and not for the sake of kindliness. O noble philosophy!
+They put out the sun in the heavens, and offer us instead a freedom
+from care that is worse than worthless. Virtue has not a heart of
+stone, but is gentle and compassionate, rejoicing with the joyful and
+weeping with those who mourn. True virtue is never unsocial, never
+haughty.
+
+With regard to the limits of friendship, I have heard three several
+maxims, but disapprove them all. First, that we ought to feel towards
+our friend exactly as we feel towards ourselves. That would never
+do; for we do many things for our friends that we should never think
+of doing for ourselves. We ask favours and reprehend injuries for a
+friend, where we would not solicit for, or defend, ourselves. Secondly,
+that our kindness to a friend should be meted out in precise equipoise
+to his kindness to us. This is too miserable a theory: friendship
+is opulent and generous. The third is, that we should take our
+friend's own estimate of himself, and act upon it. This is the worst
+principle of the three; for if our friend is over-humble, diffident or
+despondent, it is the very business of friendship to cheer him and urge
+him on. But Scipio used to condemn yet another principle that is worse
+still. Some one--he thought it must have been a bad man--once said that
+we ought to remember in friendship that some day the friend might be an
+enemy. How, in that state of mind, could one be a friend at all?
+
+A sound principle, I think, is this. In the friendship of upright men
+there ought to be an unrestricted communication of every interest,
+every purpose, every inclination. Then, in any matter of importance
+to the life or reputation of your friend, you may deviate a little
+from the strictest line of conduct so long as you do not do anything
+that is actually infamous. Then, with regard to the choice of friends,
+Scipio used to say that men were more careful about their sheep and
+goats than about their friends. Choose men of constancy, solidity, and
+firmness; and until their trustworthiness has been tested, be moderate
+in your affection and confidence. Seek first of all for sincerity. Your
+friend should also have an open, genial, and sociable temper, and his
+sympathies should be the same as yours. He must not be ready to believe
+accusations. Lastly, his talk and manner should be debonair; we don't
+want austerities and solemnities in friendship.
+
+I have heard it suggested that we ought perhaps to prefer new friends
+to old, as we prefer a young horse to an old one. Satiety should have
+no place in friendship. Old wines are the best, and so are the friends
+of many years. Do not despise the acquaintance that promises to ripen
+into something better; but do not sacrifice for it the deeply rooted
+intimacy. Even inanimate things take hold of our hearts by long custom;
+we love the mountains and forests of our youth.
+
+There is often a great disparity in respect of rank or talent between
+intimate friends. Whenever that is so, let the superior place himself
+on the level of the inferior; let him share all his advantages with his
+friend. The best way to reap the full harvest of genius, or of merit,
+or of any other excellence, is to encourage all one's kindred and
+associates to enjoy it too. But if the superior ought to condescend to
+the inferior, so the inferior ought to be free from envy. And let him
+not make a fuss about such services as he has been able to render.
+
+To pass from the noble friendships of the wise to more commonplace
+intimacies, we cannot leave out of account the necessity that sometimes
+arises of breaking off a friendship. A man falls into scandalous
+courses, his disgrace is reflected on his companions, and their
+relation must come to an end. Well, the end had best come gradually and
+gently, unless the offence is so detestable that an abrupt and final
+cutting of the acquaintance is absolutely inevitable. Disengage, if
+possible, rather than cut. And let the matter end with estrangement;
+let it not proceed to active animosity and hostility. It is very
+unbecoming to engage in public war with a man who has been known as
+one's friend. On two separate occasions Scipio thought it right to
+withdraw his confidence from certain friends. In each case he kept his
+dignity and self-command; he was grieved, but never bitter. Of course,
+the best way to guard against such unfortunate occurrences is to take
+the greatest care in forming friendships. All excellence is rare, and
+that moral excellence which makes fit objects for friendship is as rare
+as any.
+
+On the other hand, it would be unreasonable and presumptuous in anyone
+to expect to find a friend of a quality to which he himself can never
+hope to attain, or to demand from his friend an indulgence which he
+is not prepared himself to offer. Friendship was given us to be an
+incentive to virtue, and not as an indulgence to vice or to mediocrity;
+in order that, since a solitary virtue cannot scale the peaks, it may
+do so with the loyal help of a comrade. A comradeship of this kind
+includes within it all that men most desire.
+
+Think nobly of friendship, and conduct yourselves wisely in it, for in
+one way or another it enters into the life of every man. Even Timon of
+Athens, whose one impulse was a brutal misanthropy, must needs seek a
+confidant into whose mind he may instil his detestable venom. I have
+heard, and I agree with it, that though a man should contemplate from
+the heavens the universal beauty of creation, he would soon weary of it
+without a companion for his admiration.
+
+Of course, there are rubs in friendship which a sensible man will learn
+to avoid, or to ignore, or to bear them cheerfully. Admonitions and
+reproofs must have their part in true amity, and it is as difficult
+to utter them tactfully as it is to receive them in good part.
+Complaisance seems more propitious to friendship than are these naked
+truths. But though truth may be painful, complaisance is more likely
+in the long run to prove disastrous. It is no kindness to allow a
+friend to rush headlong to ruin. Let your remonstrances be free from
+bitterness and from insult; let your complaisance be affable, but never
+servile. As for adulation, there are no words bad enough for it. Even
+the populace have only contempt for the politician who flatters them.
+Despise the insinuations of the sycophant, for what is more shameful
+than to be made a fool of?
+
+I tell you, sirs, that it is virtue that lasts; that begets real
+friendships and maintains them. Lay, therefore, while you are young,
+the foundations of a virtuous life.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM COBBETT
+
+Advice to Young Men
+
+  William Cobbett, the celebrated English political writer, was
+  born in March, 1762, at Farnham in Surrey. He took a dislike to
+  rural occupations, and at an early age went to London, where
+  he was employed for a few months as a copying clerk. This work
+  was distasteful to him, and he enlisted in the army, and went
+  with his regiment to Nova Scotia. On returning to England in
+  1791, he obtained his discharge, married, and went to America.
+  In Philadelphia he commenced his career as a political writer.
+  Cobbett's "Advice to Young Men" was published in 1830. It has
+  always been the most popular of his books, partly because of
+  its subject, and partly because it illustrates so well the bold
+  and forceful directness of his style. An intensely egotistical
+  and confident man, Cobbett believed that his own strangely
+  inconsistent life was a model for all men. Yet, contrary to what
+  might have been expected, he was a delightful man in the domestic
+  circle, and the story of his marriage--which has been narrated
+  in his "Rural Rides"--is one of the romances of literary life.
+  The original introduction to the "Advice" contained personal
+  reference incredible in anyone except Cobbett. Said he, "Few will
+  be disposed to question my fitness for the task. If such a man be
+  not qualified to give advice, no man is qualified." And he went
+  on to claim for himself "genius and something more." He certainly
+  had a remarkable fund of commonsense, except when his subject was
+  himself. Cobbett died June 18, 1835.
+
+
+_I.--To a Youth_
+
+You are arrived, let us suppose, at the age of from fourteen to nearly
+twenty, and I here offer you my advice towards making you a happy man,
+useful to all about you, and an honour to those from whom you sprang.
+Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly fixed in your mind that
+you have no right to live in this world without doing work of some sort
+or other. To wish to live on the labour of others is to contemplate a
+fraud.
+
+Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is to be found only in
+independence. Turn your back on what is called interest. Write it on
+your heart that you will depend solely on your own merit and your own
+exertions, for that which a man owes to favour or to partiality, that
+same favour or partiality is constantly liable to take from him.
+
+The great source of independence the French express in three words,
+"_Vivre de peu_." "To live upon little" is the great security against
+slavery; and this precept extends to dress and other things besides
+food and drink. Extravagance in dress arises from the notion that all
+the people in the street will be looking at you as you walk out; but
+all the sensible people that happen to see you will think nothing at
+all about you. Natural beauty of person always will and must have some
+weight, even with men, and great weight with women; but this does not
+want to be set off by expensive clothes.
+
+A love of what is called "good eating and drinking," if very unamiable
+in a grown-up person, is perfectly hateful in a youth. I have never
+known such a man worthy of respect.
+
+Next, as to amusements. Dancing is at once rational and healthful;
+it is the natural amusement of young people, and none but the most
+grovelling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and despicable
+fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. As to gaming, it is
+always criminal, either in itself or in its tendency. The basis of it
+is covetousness; a desire to take from others something for which you
+have given, and intend to give, no equivalent.
+
+Be careful in choosing your companions; and lay down as a rule never to
+be departed from that no youth or man ought to be called your friend
+who is addicted to indecent talk.
+
+In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt, but even these are
+preferable to simpering and crawling. Be obedient where obedience is
+due; for it is no act of meanness to yield implicit and ready obedience
+to those who have a right to demand it at your hands. None are so saucy
+and disobedient as slaves; and, when you come to read history, you
+will find that in proportion as nations have been free has been their
+reverence for the laws.
+
+Let me now turn to the things which you ought to do. And, first of
+all, the husbanding of your time. Young people require more sleep than
+those that are grown up, and the number of hours cannot well be, on an
+average, less than eight. An hour in bed is better than an hours spent
+over the fire in an idle gossip.
+
+Money is said to be power; but superior sobriety, industry, and
+activity are still a more certain source of power. Booklearning is not
+only proper, but highly commendable; and portions of it are absolutely
+necessary in every case of trade or profession. One of these portions
+is distinct reading, plain and neat writing, and arithmetic. The
+next thing is the grammar of your own language, for grammar is the
+foundation of all literature. Excellence in your own calling is the
+first thing to be aimed at. After this may come general knowledge.
+Geography naturally follows grammar; and you should begin with that of
+this kingdom. When you come to history, begin also with that of your
+own country; and here it is my bounded duty to put you well on your
+guard. The works of our historians are, as far as they relate to former
+times, masses of lies unmatched by any others that the world has ever
+seen.
+
+
+_II.--To a Young Man_
+
+To be poor and independent is very nearly an impossibility; though
+poverty is, except where there is an actual want of food and raiment,
+a thing much more imaginary than real. Resolve to set this false shame
+of being poor at defiance. Nevertheless, men ought to take care of
+their names, ought to use them prudently and sparingly, and to keep
+their expenses always within the bounds of their income, be it what it
+may.
+
+One of the effectual means of doing this is to purchase with ready
+money. Innumerable things are not bought at all with ready money which
+would be bought in case of trust; it is so much easier to order a thing
+than to pay for it. I believe that, generally speaking, you pay for the
+same article a fourth part more in the case of trust than you do in the
+case of ready money. The purchasing with ready money really means that
+you have more money to purchase with.
+
+A great evil arising from the desire not to be thought poor is the
+destructive thing honoured by the name of "speculation," but which
+ought to be called gambling. It is a purchasing of something to be sold
+again with a great profit at a considerable hazard. Your life, while
+you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester: a life of general
+gloom, enlivened now and then by a gleam of hope or of success.
+
+In all situations of life avoid the trammels of the law. If you win
+your suit and are poorer than you were before, what do you accomplish?
+Better to put up with the loss of one pound than with two, with all the
+loss of time and all the mortification and anxiety attending a law suit.
+
+Unless your business or your profession be duly attended to there can
+be no real pleasure in any other employment of a portion of your time.
+Men, however, must have some leisure, some relaxation from business;
+and in the choice of this relaxation much of your happiness will depend.
+
+Where fields and gardens are at hand, they present the most rational
+scenes for leisure. Nothing can be more stupid than sitting,
+sotting over a pot and a glass, sending out smoke from the head, and
+articulating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things.
+
+Another mode of spending the leisure time is that of books. To come at
+the true history of a country you must read its laws; you must read
+books treating of its usages and customs in former times; and you must
+particularly inform yourselves as to prices of labour and of food. But
+there is one thing always to be guarded against, and that is not to
+admire and applaud anything you read merely because it is the fashion
+to admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what you read, form your
+own judgments, and stand by that judgment until fact or argument be
+offered to convince you of your error.
+
+
+_III.--To a Lover_
+
+There are two descriptions of lovers on whom all advice would be
+wasted, namely, those in whose minds passion so wholly overpowers
+reason as to deprive the party of his sober senses, and those who love
+according to the rules of arithmetic, or measure their matrimonial
+expectations by the claim of the land-surveyor.
+
+I address myself to the reader whom I suppose to be a real lover, but
+not so smitten as to be bereft of reason. You should never forget that
+marriage is a thing to last for life, and that, generally speaking, it
+is to make life happy or miserable.
+
+The things which you ought to desire in a wife are chastity, sobriety,
+industry, frugality, cleanliness, knowledge of domestic affairs, good
+temper and beauty.
+
+Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even thought, is so
+essential that without it no female is fit to be a wife. If prudery
+mean false modesty, it is to be despised; but if it mean modesty pushed
+to the utmost extent, I confess that I like it. The very elements of
+jealousy ought to be avoided, and the only safeguard is to begin well
+and so render infidelity and jealousy next to impossible.
+
+By sobriety I mean sobriety of conduct. When girls arrive at that
+age which turns their thoughts towards the command of a house it
+is time for them to cast away the levity of a child. Sobriety is a
+title to trustworthiness, and that is a treasure to prize above all
+others. But in order to possess this precious trustworthiness you must
+exercise your reason in the choice of a partner. If she be vain, fond
+of flattery, given to gadding about, coquettish, she will never be
+trustworthy, and you will be unjust if you expect it at her hands. But
+if you find in her that innate sobriety of which I have been speaking,
+there requires on your part confidence and trust without any limit.
+
+An ardent-minded young man may fear that sobriety of conduct in a young
+woman argues a want of warmth; but my observation and experience tell
+me that levity, not sobriety, is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred,
+the companion of a want of ardent feeling.
+
+There is no state in life in which industry in the wife is not
+necessary to the happiness and prosperity of the family. If she be lazy
+there will always be a heavy arrear of things unperformed, and this,
+even among the wealthy, is a great curse. But who is to tell whether a
+girl will make an industrious woman? There are certain outward signs,
+which, if attended to with care, will serve as pretty sure guides.
+
+If you find the tongue lazy you may be nearly certain that the hands
+and feet are the same. The pronunciation of an industrious person is
+generally quick, distinct, and firm. Another mark of industry is a
+quick step and a tread showing that the foot comes down with a hearty
+good will.
+
+Early rising is another mark of industry. It is, I should imagine,
+pretty difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the
+dew, never beholds the rising sun.
+
+Frugality. This means the contrary of extravagance. It does not mean
+stinginess; it means an abstaining from all unnecessary expenditure.
+The outward and vulgar signs of extravagance are all the hardware
+which women put upon their persons. The girl who has not the sense to
+perceive that her person is disfigured, and not beautified by parcels
+of brass, tin, and other hardware stuck about her body, is too great a
+fool to be trusted with the purse of any man.
+
+Cleanliness is a capital ingredient. Occasional cleanliness is not the
+thing that an English or American husband wants; he wants it always. A
+sloven in one thing is a sloven in all things. Make up your mind to a
+rope rather than to live with a slip-shod wife.
+
+Knowledge of domestic affairs is so necessary in every wife that
+the lover ought to have it continually in his eye. A wife must not
+only know how things ought to be done, but how to do them. I cannot
+form an idea of a more unfortunate being than a girl with a mere
+boarding-school education and without a future to enable her to keep a
+servant when married. Of what use are her accomplishments?
+
+Good temper is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand--smiles
+are so cheap. By "good temper" I do not mean easy temper--a serenity
+which nothing disturbs is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, querulousness,
+cold indifference, pertinacity in having the last word, are bad things
+in a young woman, but of all the faults of temper your melancholy
+ladies are the worst. Most wives are at times misery-makers, but the
+melancholy carry it on as a regular trade.
+
+The great use of female beauty is that it naturally tends to keep the
+husband in good humour with himself, to make him pleased with his
+bargain.
+
+As to constancy in lovers, even when marriage has been promised, and
+that, too, in the most solemn manner, it is better for both parties
+to break off than to be coupled together with the reluctant assent of
+either.
+
+
+_IV.--To a Husband_
+
+It is as a husband that your conduct will have the greatest effect on
+your happiness. All in a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and
+education, is, nine times out of ten, the work of her husband.
+
+First convince her of the necessity of moderation in expense; make her
+clearly see the justice of beginning to act upon the presumption that
+there are children coming. The great danger of all is beginning with a
+servant. The wife is young, and why is she not to work as well as her
+husband? If the wife be not able to do all the work to be done in the
+house, she ought not to have been able to marry.
+
+The next thing to be attended to is your demeanour towards a young
+wife. The first frown that she receives from you is a dagger to her
+heart. Let nothing put you out of humour with her.
+
+Every husband who spends his leisure time in company other than that
+of his wife and family tells her and them that he takes more delight
+in other company than in theirs. Resolve from the very first never to
+spend an hour from home unless business or some necessary and rational
+purpose demand it. If you are called away your wife ought to be fully
+apprised of the probable duration of the absence and of the time of
+return. When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding
+day, how can a just man think anything a trifle that affects her
+happiness?
+
+Though these considerations may demand from us the kindest possible
+treatment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful deportment at
+her hands. A husband under command is the most contemptible of God's
+creatures. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recommending disregard of
+the wife's opinions and wishes? By no means. But the very nature of
+things prescribes that there must be a head of every house, and an
+undivided authority. The wife ought to be heard, and patiently heard;
+she ought to be reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced; but if she
+remain opposed to the husband's opinion, his will must be obeyed.
+
+I now come to that great bane of families--jealousy. One thing every
+husband can do in the way of prevention, and that is to give no
+ground for it. Few characters are more despicable than that of a
+jealous-headed husband, and that, not because he has grounds, but
+because he has not grounds.
+
+If to be happy in the married state requires these precautions, you may
+ask: Is it not better to remain single? The cares and troubles of the
+married life are many, but are those of the single life few? Without
+wives men are poor, helpless mortals.
+
+As to the expense, I firmly believe that a farmer married at
+twenty-five, and having ten children during the first ten years, would
+be able to save more money during these years than a bachelor of the
+same age would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like space of
+time. The bachelor has no one on whom he can in all cases rely. To me,
+no being in this world appears so wretched as he.
+
+
+_V.--To a Father_
+
+It is yourself that you see in your children. They are the great and
+unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of your prime of life,
+and the props of your old age. From the very beginning ensure in them,
+if possible, an ardent love for their mother. Your first duty towards
+them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life from any
+breast but hers. That is their own; it is their birthright.
+
+The man who is to gain a living by his labour must be drawn away from
+home; but this will not, if he be made of good stuff, prevent him from
+doing his share of the duty due to his children. There ought to be no
+toils, no watchings, no breakings of rest, imposed by this duty, of
+which he ought not to perform his full share, and that, too, without
+grudging. The working man, in whatever line, and whether in town or
+country, who spends his day of rest away from his wife and children is
+not worthy of the name of father.
+
+The first thing in the rearing of children who have passed from the
+baby state is, as to the body, plenty of good food; and, as to the
+mind, constant good example in the parents. There is no other reason
+for the people in the American states being generally so much taller
+and stronger than the people in England are, but that, from their
+birth, they have an abundance of good food; not only of food, but of
+rich food. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unimportant matter,
+for a tall man is worth more than a short man. Good food, and plenty of
+it, is not more necessary to the forming of a stout and able body than
+to the forming of an active and enterprising spirit. Children should
+eat often, and as much as they like at a time. They will never take, of
+plain food, more than it is good for them to take.
+
+The next thing after good and plentiful and plain food is good air.
+Besides sweet air, children want exercise. Even when they are babies in
+arms they want tossing and pulling about, and talking and singing to.
+They will, when they begin, take, if you let them alone, just as much
+exercise as nature bids them, and no more.
+
+I am of opinion that it is injurious to the mind to press book-learning
+upon a child at an early age. I must impress my opinion upon every
+father that his children's happiness ought to be his first object;
+that book-learning, if it tend to militate against this, ought to be
+disregarded. A man may read books for ever and be an ignorant creature
+at last, and even the more ignorant for his reading.
+
+And with regard to young women, everlasting book-reading is absolutely
+a vice. When they once get into the habit they neglect all other
+matters, and, in some cases, even their very dress. Attending to the
+affairs of the house--to the washing, the baking, the brewing, the
+cooking of victuals, the management of the poultry and the garden,
+these are their proper occupations.
+
+
+_VI.--To the Citizen_
+
+Having now given my advice to the youth, the man, the lover, the
+husband, and the father, I shall tender it to the citizen. To act well
+our part as citizens we ought clearly to understand what our rights
+are; for on our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights going
+before duties, as value received goes before payments. The great right
+of all is the right of taking a part in the making of the laws by which
+we are governed.
+
+It is the duty of every man to defend his country against an enemy, a
+duty imposed by the law of nature as well as by that of civil society.
+Yet how are you to maintain that this is the duty of every man if you
+deny to some men the enjoyment of a share in making the laws? The poor
+man has a body and a soul as well as the rich man; like the latter, he
+has parents, wife, and children; a bullet or a sword is as deadly to
+him as to the rich man; yet, notwithstanding this equality, he is to
+risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of
+rights! Why are the poor to risk their lives? To uphold the laws and
+to protect property--property of which they are said to possess none?
+What! compel men to come forth and risk their lives for the protection
+of property, and then in the same breath tell them that they are not
+allowed to share in the making of the laws, because, and only because,
+they have no property!
+
+Here, young man of sense and of spirit, here is the point on which you
+are to take your stand. There are always men enough to plead the cause
+of the rich, and to echo the woes of the fallen great; but be it your
+part to show compassion for those who labour, and to maintain their
+rights.
+
+If the right to have a share in making the laws were merely a feather,
+if it were a fanciful thing, if it were only a speculative theory, if
+it were but an abstract principle, it might be considered as of little
+importance. But it is none of these; it is a practical matter. Who lets
+another man put his hand into his purse when he pleases? It is the
+first duty of every man to do all in his power to maintain this right
+of self-government where it exists, and to restore it where it has been
+lost. Men are in such a case labouring, not for the present day only,
+but for ages to come. If life should not allow them time to see their
+endeavours crowned, their children will see it.
+
+
+
+
+DANIEL DEFOE
+
+A Journal of the Plague Year
+
+  "A Journal of the Plague Year" appeared in 1722. In its second
+  edition it received the title of "A History of the Plague." This
+  book was suggested by the public anxiety caused by a fearful
+  visitation of the plague at Marseilles in the two preceding
+  years. As an account of the epidemic in London, it has all the
+  vividness of Defoe's fiction, while it is acknowledged to be
+  historically accurate. (Defoe biography, see Vol. III, p. 26.)
+
+
+_I.--A Stricken City_
+
+It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest
+of my neighbours, heard that the plague was returned again in Holland.
+We had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days to spread
+rumours and reports of things; but such things as these were gathered
+from the letters of merchants, and from them were handed about by word
+of mouth only. In December, two Frenchmen died of the plague in Long
+Acre, or, rather, at the upper end of Drury Lane. The secretaries
+of state got knowledge of it, and two physicians and a surgeon were
+ordered to go to the house and make inspection. This they did, and,
+finding evident tokens of the sickness upon both the bodies, they gave
+their opinions publicly, that they died of the plague; whereupon it was
+given in to the parish clerk, and he also returned them to the Hall;
+and it was printed in the weekly bill of mortality in the usual manner,
+thus:
+
+    Plague, 2; Parishes infected, 1.
+
+The distemper spread slowly, and in the beginning of May, the city
+being healthy, we began to hope that as the infection was chiefly among
+the people at the other end of the town, it might go no further. We
+continued in these hopes for a few days, but it was only for a few,
+for the people were no more to be deceived thus; they searched the
+houses, and found that the plague was really spread every way, and that
+many died of it every day; and accordingly, in the weekly bill for
+the next week, the thing began to show itself. There was, indeed, but
+fourteen set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and collusion.
+
+Now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in June the
+infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rose high. Yet all
+that could conceal their distempers did it to prevent their neighbours
+shunning them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses.
+
+I lived without Aldgate, midway between Aldgate church and Whitechapel
+Bars, and our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end
+of the town their consternation was very great, and the richer sort
+of people, especially the nobility and gentry, from the west part of
+the city, thronged out of town with their families and servants. In
+Whitechapel, where I lived, nothing was to be seen but waggons and
+carts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc., all hurrying away.
+This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and it filled me
+with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city.
+
+I now began to consider seriously how I should dispose of myself,
+whether I should resolve to stay in London, or shut up my house and
+flee. I had two important things before me: the carrying on of my
+business and shop, and the preservation of my life in so dismal a
+calamity. My trade was a saddler, and though a single man, I had a
+family of servants and a house and warehouses filled with goods, and to
+leave them all without any overseer had been to hazard the loss of all
+I had in the world.
+
+I had resolved to go; but, one way or other, I always found that to
+appoint to go away was always crossed by some accident or other, so as
+to disappoint and put it off again; and I advise every person, in such
+a case, to keep his eye upon the particular providences which occur
+at that time, and take them as intimations from Heaven of what is his
+unquestioned duty to do in such a case. Add to this, that, turning over
+the Bible which lay before me, I cried out, "Well, I know not what
+to do; Lord, direct me!" and at that juncture, casting my eye down,
+I read: "Thou shalt not be afraid for the pestilence that walketh in
+darkness.... A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy
+right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee." I scarce need tell the
+reader that from that moment I resolved that I would stay in the town,
+casting myself entirely upon the protection of the Almighty.
+
+The court removed in the month of June, and went to Oxford, where it
+pleased God to preserve them; for which I cannot say they showed any
+great token of thankfulness, and hardly anything of reformation, though
+they did not want being told that their crying voices might, without
+breach of charity, have gone far in bringing that terrible judgment
+upon the whole nation.
+
+A blazing star or comet had appeared for several months before the
+plague, and there had been universal melancholy apprehensions of some
+dreadful calamity. The people were at this time more addicted to
+prophecies, dreams, and old wives' fables, than ever they were before
+or since. Some ran about the streets with oral predictions, one crying,
+"Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed!" Another poor naked
+creature cried, "Oh, the great and dreadful God!" repeating these words
+continually, with voice and countenance full of horror, and a swift
+pace, and nobody could ever find him to stop. Some saw a flaming sword
+in a hand coming out of a cloud; others, hearses and coffins in the
+air; others, heaps of dead bodies unburied. But those who were really
+serious and religious applied themselves in a truly Christian manner to
+the proper work of repentance and humiliation. Many consciences were
+awakened, many hard hearts melted into tears. People might be heard in
+the streets as we passed along, calling upon God for mercy, and saying,
+"I have been a thief," or "a murderer," and the like; and none dared
+stop to make the least inquiry into such things, or to comfort the poor
+creatures that thus cried out. The face of London was now strangely
+altered; it was all in tears; the shrieks of women and children at the
+windows and doors, where their dearest relations were dead, were enough
+to pierce the stoutest heart.
+
+About June, the lord mayor and aldermen began more particularly to
+concern themselves for the regulation of the city, by the shutting up
+of houses. Examiners were appointed in every parish to order the house
+to be shut up wherever any person sick of the infection was found. A
+night watchman and a day watchman were appointed to each infected house
+to prevent any person from coming out or going into the same. Women
+searchers were appointed in each parish to examine the bodies of such
+as were dead, to see if they had died of the infection, and over these
+were appointed physicians and chirurgeons. Other orders were made with
+regard to giving notice of sickness, sequestration of the sick, airing
+the goods and bedding of the infected, burial of the dead, cleansing
+of the streets, forbidding wandering beggars, loose persons, and idle
+assemblages, and the like. One of these orders was--"That every house
+visited be marked with a red cross of a foot long, in the middle of the
+door, with these words, 'LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US,' to be set close over
+the same cross." Many got out of their houses by stratagem after they
+were shut up, and thus spread the plague; in one place they blowed up
+their watchman with gunpowder and burnt the poor fellow dreadfully, and
+while he made hideous cries, the whole family got out at the windows;
+others got out by bribing the watchman, and I have seen three watchmen
+publicly whipped through the streets for suffering people to go out.
+
+
+_II.--How the Dead Were Buried_
+
+I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, and
+when they dug the great pit in the churchyard of Aldgate I could not
+resist going to see it. A terrible pit it was, forty feet long, about
+sixteen wide, and in one part they dug it to near twenty feet deep,
+until they could go no deeper for the water. It was filled in just two
+weeks, when they had thrown into it 1,114 bodies from our own parish.
+
+I got admittance into the churchyard by the sexton, who at first
+refused me, but at last said: "Name of God, go in; depend upon it,
+'twill be a sermon to you, it may be the best that ever you heard. It
+is a speaking sight," says he; and with that he opened the door and
+said, "Go, if you will." I stood wavering for a good while, but just at
+that interval I saw two links come over from the end of the Minories,
+and heard the bellman, and then appeared a dead-cart coming over the
+streets, so I went in.
+
+The scene was awful and full of terror. The cart had in it sixteen or
+seventeen bodies; some were wrapped in sheets or rugs, some little
+other than naked, or so loose that what covering they had fell from
+them in the shooting out of the cart, and they fell quite naked among
+the rest. But the matter was not much to them, seeing they were all
+dead, and were to be huddled together into the common grave of mankind,
+as we may call it; for here was no difference made, but poor and rich
+went together. The cart was turned round, and the bodies shot into the
+pit promiscuously.
+
+There was following the cart a poor unhappy gentleman who fell down in
+a swoon when the bodies were shot into the pit. The buriers ran to him
+and took him up, and after he had come to himself, they led him away to
+the Pye tavern, over against the end of Houndsditch. His case lay so
+heavy on my mind that after I had gone home I must go out again into
+the street and go to the Pye tavern, to inquire what became of him.
+
+It was by this time one in the morning, and yet the poor gentleman was
+there. The people of the house were civil and obliging, but there was a
+dreadful set of fellows that used their house, and who, in the middle
+of all this horror, met there every night, and behaved with revelling
+and roaring extravagances, so that the master and mistress of the
+house were terrified at them. They sat in a room next the street, and
+as often as the dead-cart came along, they would open the windows and
+make impudent mocks and jeers at the sad lamentations of the people,
+especially if they heard the poor people call upon God to have mercy
+upon them.
+
+They were at this vile work when I came to the house, ridiculing the
+unfortunate man, and his sorrow for his wife and children, taunting him
+with want of courage to leap into the pit and go to Heaven with them,
+and adding profane and blasphemous expressions.
+
+I gently reproved them, being not unknown to two of them. But I cannot
+call to mind the abominable raillery which they returned to me, making
+a jest of my calling the plague the Hand of God. They continued this
+wretched course three or four days; but they were, every one of them,
+carried into the great pit before it was quite filled up.
+
+In my walks I had daily many dismal scenes before my eyes, as of
+persons falling dead in the streets, terrible shrieks and screechings
+of women, and the like. Passing through Tokenhouse Yard, in Lothbury,
+of a sudden a casement violently opened just over my head, and a woman
+gave three frightful screeches, and then cried: "Oh Death! Death!
+Death!" in a most inimitable tone, which struck me with horror and a
+chillness in my very blood. There was nobody to be seen in the whole
+street, neither did any other window open; for people had no curiosity
+now, nor could anybody help another. I went on into Bell Alley.
+
+Just in Bell Alley, at the right hand of the passage, there was a
+more terrible cry than that, and I could hear women and children run
+screaming about the rooms distracted. A garret window opened, and
+somebody from a window on the other side of the alley called and
+asked, "What is the matter?" upon which, from the first window it was
+answered: "O Lord, my old master has hanged himself!" The other asked
+again: "Is he quite dead?" And the first answered, "Ay, ay, quite
+dead--quite dead and cold."
+
+It is scarce credible what dreadful things happened every day, people
+in the rage of the distemper, or in the torment of their swellings,
+which was indeed intolerable, oftentimes laying violent hands on
+themselves, throwing themselves out at their windows, etc.; mothers
+murdering their own children in their lunacy; some dying of mere
+fright, without any infection; others frightened into despair, idiocy,
+or madness.
+
+There were a great many robberies and wicked practices committed even
+in this dreadful time. The power of avarice was so strong in some that
+they would run any hazard to steal and to plunder; and in houses where
+all the inhabitants had died and been carried out, they would break in
+without regard to the danger of infection, and take even the bedclothes.
+
+
+_III.--Universal Desolation_
+
+For about a month together, I believe there did not die less than 1,500
+or 1,700 a day, one day with another; and in the beginning of September
+good people began to think that God was resolved to make a full end of
+the people in this miserable city. Whole families, and, indeed, whole
+streets of families were swept away together, and the infection was so
+increased that at length they shut up no houses at all. People gave
+themselves up to their fears, and thought that nothing was to be hoped
+for but an universal desolation. It was even in the height of this
+despair that it pleased God to stay His hand, and to slacken the fury
+of the contagion.
+
+When the people despaired of life and abandoned themselves, it had a
+very strange effect for three or four weeks; it made them bold and
+venturous; they were no more shy of one another, nor restrained within
+doors, but went anywhere and everywhere, and ran desperately into
+any company. It brought them to crowd into the churches; looking on
+themselves as all so many dead corpses, they behaved as if their lives
+were of no consequence, compared to the work which they came about
+there.
+
+The conduct of the lord mayor and magistrates was all the time
+admirable, so that bread was always to be had in plenty, and cheap
+as usual; provisions were never wanting in the markets; the streets
+were kept free from all manner of frightful objects--dead bodies, or
+anything unpleasant; and for a time fires were kept burning in the
+streets to cleanse the air of infection.
+
+Many remedies were tried; but it is my opinion, and I must leave it as
+a prescription, that the best physic against the plague is to run away
+from it. I know people encourage themselves by saying, "God is able to
+keep us in the midst of danger," and this kept thousands in the town,
+whose carcasses went into the great pits by cart-loads. Yet of the
+pious ladies who went about distributing alms to the poor, and visiting
+infected families, though I will not undertake to say that none of
+those charitable people were suffered to fall under the calamity, yet I
+may say this, that I never knew any of them to fall under it.
+
+Such is the precipitant disposition of our people, that no sooner had
+they observed that the distemper was not so catching as formerly, and
+that if it was catched it was not so mortal, and that abundance of
+people who really fell sick recovered again daily, than they made no
+more of the plague than of an ordinary fever, nor indeed so much. They
+went into the very chambers where others lay sick. This rash conduct
+cost a great many their lives, who had been preserved all through the
+heat of the infection, and the bills of mortality increased again four
+hundred in the first week of November.
+
+But it pleased God, by the continuing of wintry weather, so to restore
+the health of the city that by February following we reckoned the
+distemper quite ceased. The time was not far off when the city was to
+be purged with fire, for within nine months more I saw it all lying in
+ashes.
+
+I shall conclude the account of this calamitous year with a stanza of
+my own:
+
+    A dreadful plague in London was
+      In the year sixty-five,
+    Which swept an hundred thousand souls
+      Away; yet I alive!
+
+
+
+
+DEMOSTHENES
+
+The Philippics
+
+  Demosthenes, by universal consensus of opinion the greatest
+  orator the world has known, was born at Athens 385 B.C. and
+  died 322 B.C. His birth took place just nineteen years after
+  the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War. Losing his father when
+  he was yet a child, his wealth was frittered away by three
+  faithless guardians, whom he prosecuted when he came of age.
+  This dispute, and some other struggles, led him into public
+  life, and by indomitable perseverance he overcame the difficulty
+  constituted by certain physical disqualifications. Identifying
+  himself for life entirely with the interests of Athens, he became
+  the foremost administrator in the state, as well as its most
+  eloquent orator. His stainless character, his matchless powers
+  of advocacy, his fervent patriotism, and his fine diplomacy,
+  render him altogether one of the noblest figures of antiquity.
+  His fame rests mainly on "The Philippics"; those magnificent
+  orations delivered during a series of several years against the
+  aggressions of Philip of Macedon; though the three "Olynthiacs,"
+  and the oration "De Coronâ," and several other speeches are
+  monumental of the genius of Demosthenes, more especially the "De
+  Coronâ." He continued to resist the Macedonian domination during
+  the career of Alexander the Great, and was exiled, dying, it is
+  supposed, by poison administered by himself, at Calauria. (Cf.
+  also p. 273 of this volume.) This epitome has been prepared from
+  the original Greek.
+
+
+_I.--"Men of Athens, Arouse Yourselves!"_
+
+The subject under discussion on this occasion, men of Athens, is not
+new, and there would be no need to speak further on it if other orators
+deliberated wisely. First, I advise you not to regard the present
+aspect of affairs, miserable though it truly is, as entirely hopeless.
+For the primary cause of the failure is your own mismanagement. If any
+consider it difficult to overcome Philip because of the power that he
+has attained, and because of our disastrous loss of many fortresses,
+they should remember how much he has gained by achieving alliances.
+
+If, now, you will emulate his policy, if every citizen will devote
+himself assiduously to the service of his country, you will assuredly
+recover all that has been lost, and punish Philip. For he has his
+enemies, even among his pretended friends. All dread him because your
+inertia has prevented you from providing any refuge for them. Hence the
+height of arrogance which he now displays and the constantly expanding
+area of his conquests.
+
+When, men of Athens, will you realise that your attitude is the cause
+of this situation? For you idle about, indulging in gossip over
+circumstances, instead of grappling with the actualities. Were this
+antagonist to pass away, another enemy like him would speedily be
+produced by your policy, for Philip is what he is not so much through
+his own prowess as through your own indifference.
+
+As to the plan of action to be initiated, I say that we must inaugurate
+it by providing fifty triremes, also the cavalry and transports and
+boats needed for the fleet. Thus we should be fully prepared to cope
+with the sudden excursions of Philip to Thermopylæ or any other point.
+Besides this naval force, you should equip an army of 2,000 foot
+soldiers, of whom 500 should be Athenians, the remainder mercenaries,
+together with 250 cavalry, including 50 Athenians. Lastly, we should
+have an auxiliary naval contingent of ten swift galleys.
+
+We are now conducting affairs farcically. For we act neither as if
+we were at peace, nor as if we had entered on a war. You enlist your
+soldiers not for warfare, but for religious pageants, and for parades
+and processions in the market-place. We must consolidate our resources,
+embody permanent forces, not temporary levies hastily enlisted, and
+we must secure winter quarters for our troops in those islands which
+possess harbours and granaries for the corn.
+
+No longer, men of Athens, must you continue the mere discussion of
+measures without ever executing any of your projects. Remember that
+Philip sustains his power by drawing on the resources of your own
+allies.
+
+But by adopting my plan you will at one and the same time deprive him
+of his chief sources of supply, and place yourselves out of the reach
+of danger. The policy he has hitherto pursued will be effectually
+thwarted. No longer will he be able to capture your citizens, as he did
+by attacking Lemnos and Imbros, or to seize your Paralus, as he did on
+his descent at Marathon.
+
+But, men of Athens, you spend far larger sums of money on the splendid
+Panathenaic and Dionysian festivals than on your naval and military
+armaments. Moreover, those festivals are always punctually celebrated,
+while your preparations for war are always behindhand. Then, when a
+critical juncture arrives, we find our forces are totally inadequate to
+the emergency.
+
+Having larger resources than any other state, you, Athenians, have
+never adequately availed yourselves of them. You never anticipate the
+movements of Philip, but simply drift after him, sending forces to
+Thermopylæ if you hear he is there, or to any other quarter where he
+may happen to be. Such policy might formerly be excused, but now it
+is as disgraceful as it is intolerable. Are we to wait for Philip's
+aggressiveness to cease? It never will do so unless we resist it. Shall
+we not assume the offensive and descend on his coast with some of our
+forces?
+
+Nothing will result from mere oratory and from mutual recrimination
+among ourselves. My own conviction is that Philip is encouraged by our
+inertia, and that he is carried away by his own successes, but that he
+has no fixed plan of action that can be guessed by foolish chatterers.
+Men of Athens, let us for the future abandon such an attitude, and let
+us bear in mind that we must depend not on the help of others, but on
+ourselves alone. Unless we go to attack Philip where he is, Philip will
+come to attack us where we are.
+
+
+_II.--Beware the Guile of Philip_
+
+Nothing, men of Athens, is done as a sequel to the speeches which
+are delivered and approved concerning the outrageous proceedings of
+Philip. You are earnest in discussion; he is earnest in action. If we
+are to be complacently content because we employ the better arguments,
+well and good; but if we are successfully to resist this formidable
+and increasing power, we must be prepared to entertain advice that is
+salutary, however unpalatable, rather than counsel which is easy and
+pleasant.
+
+If you give me any credit for clear perception, I beg you to attend
+to what I plead. After subduing Thermopylæ and the Phocians, Philip
+quickly apprehended that you could not be induced by any selfish
+considerations to abandon other Greek states to him. The Thebans,
+Messenians, and Argives he lured by bribes. But he knew how, in
+the past, your predecessors scorned the overtures of his ancestor,
+Alexander of Macedon, sent by Mardonius the Persian to induce the
+Athenians to betray the rest of the Greeks. It was not so with the
+Argives and the Thebans, and thus Philip calculates that their
+successors will care nothing for the interests of the Greeks generally.
+So he favours them, but not you.
+
+Everything demonstrates Philip's animosity against Athens. He is
+instinctively aware that you are conscious of his plots against
+you, and ascribes to you a feeling of hatred against him. Eager to
+be beforehand with us, he continues to negotiate with Thebans and
+Peloponnesians, assuming that they may be beguiled with ease.
+
+I call to mind how I addressed the Messenians and the Argives,
+reminding them how Philip had dishonourably given certain of their
+territories to the Olynthians. Would the Olynthians then have listened
+to any disparagements of Philip? Assuredly not. Yet they were soon
+shamefully betrayed and cheated by him. It is unsafe for commonwealths
+to place confidence in despots. In like manner were the Thessalians
+deceived when he had ejected their tyrants and had restored to
+them Nicasa and Magnesia, for he instituted the new tyranny of the
+Decemvirate. Philip is equally ready with gifts and promises on the one
+hand, and with fraud and deceit on the other.
+
+"By Jupiter," said I to those auditors, "the only infallible defence of
+democracies against despots is the absolute refusal of all confidence
+in them. Always to mistrust them is the only safeguard. What is it that
+you seek to secure? Liberty? Then do you not perceive that the very
+titles worn by Philip prove him to be adverse to this? For every king
+and tyrant is an enemy to freedom and an opponent to laws."
+
+But though my speeches and those of other emissaries were received
+with vociferous applause, all the same those who thus manifested
+profound approbation will never be able to resist the blandishments and
+overtures of Philip. It may well be so with those other Greeks. But
+you, O Athenians, surely should understand your own interests better.
+For otherwise irreparable disaster must ensue.
+
+In justice, men of Athens, you should summon the men who communicated
+to you the promises which induced you to consent to peace. Their
+statements misled us; otherwise, neither would I have gone as
+ambassador, nor would you have ceased hostilities. Also, you should
+call those who, after my return from my second embassy, contradicted my
+report. I then protested against the abandonment of Thermopylæ and of
+the Phocians.
+
+They ridiculed me as a water-drinker, and they persuaded you that
+Philip would cede to you Oropus and Eubœa in exchange for Amphipolis,
+and also that he would humble the Thebans and at his own charges cut
+through the Chersonese. Your anger will be excited in due time when
+you realise what you have hitherto disregarded, namely, that these
+projects on the part of Philip are devised against Athens.
+
+Though all know it only too well, let me remind you who it was,
+even Æschines himself, who induced you by his persuasion to abandon
+Thermopylæ and Phocis. By possessing control over these, Philip now
+commands also the road to Attica and Peloponnesus.
+
+Hence the present situation is this, that you must now consider,
+not distant affairs, but the means of defending your homes and of
+conducting a war in Attica, that war having become inevitable through
+those events, grievous though it will be to every citizen when it
+begins. May the gods grant that the worst fears be not fully confirmed!
+
+
+_III.--Athens Must Head the War_
+
+Various circumstances, men of Athens, have reduced our affairs to the
+worst possible state, this lamentable crisis being due mainly to the
+specious orators who seek rather to please you than wisely to guide
+you. Flattery has generated perilous complacency, and now the position
+is one of extreme danger. I am willing either to preserve silence,
+or to speak frankly, according to your disposition. Yet all may be
+repaired if you awaken to your duty, for Philip has not conquered you;
+you have simply made no real effort against him.
+
+Strange to say, while Philip is actually seizing cities and
+appropriating various portions of our territory, some among us affirm
+that there is really no war. Thus, caution is needed in speech, for
+those who suggest defensive measures may afterwards be indicted for
+causing hostilities. Now, let those who maintain that we are at peace
+propose a resolution for suitable plans. But if you are invaded by an
+armed aggressor, who pretends to be at peace with you, what can you do
+but initiate measures of defence?
+
+Both sides may profess to be at peace, and I do not demur; but it
+is madness to style that a condition of peace which allows Philip
+to subjugate all other states and then to assail you last of all.
+His method of proceeding is to prepare to attack you, while securing
+immunity from the danger of being attacked by you.
+
+If we wait for him to declare war, we wait in vain. For he will treat
+us as he did the Olynthians and the Phocians. Professing to be their
+ally, he appropriated territories belonging to them. Do you imagine
+he would declare war against you before commencing operations of
+encroachment? Never, so long as he knows that you are willing to be
+deceived.
+
+By a series of operations he has been infringing the peace: by his
+attempt to seize Megara, by his intervention in Eubœa, by his excursion
+into Thrace. I reckon that the virtual beginnings of hostilities
+must be dated from the day that he completed the subjugation of the
+Thracians. From your other orators I differ in deeming any discussion
+irrelevant respecting the Chersonese or Byzantium. Aid these, indeed;
+but let the safety of all Greece alike be the subject of your
+deliberations.
+
+What I would emphasise is that to Philip have been conceded liberties
+of encroachment and aggression, by you first of all, such as in former
+days were always contested by war. He has attacked and enslaved city
+after city of the Greeks. You Athenians were for seventy-three years
+the supreme leaders in Hellas, as were the Spartans for twenty-nine
+years. Then after the battle of Leuctra the Thebans acquired paramount
+influence. But neither you nor these others ever arrogated the right to
+act according to your pleasure.
+
+If you appeared to act superciliously towards any state, all the other
+states sided with that one which was aggrieved. Yet all the errors
+committed by our predecessors and by those of the Spartans during the
+whole of that century were trivial compared with the wrongs perpetrated
+by Philip during these thirteen years. Cruel has been his destruction
+of Olynthus, of Methone, of Apollonia, and of thirty-two cities on the
+borders of Thrace, and also the extermination of the Phocians. And now
+he domineers ruthlessly over Thessaly and Eubœa. Yet all we Greeks of
+various nationalities are in so abjectly miserable a condition that,
+instead of arranging embassies and declaring our indignation, we
+entrench ourselves in isolation in our several cities.
+
+It must be reflected that when wrongs were inflicted by other states,
+by us or the Spartans, these faults were at any rate committed by
+genuine sons of Greece. How much more hateful is the offence when
+perpetrated against a household by a slave or an alien than by a son or
+other member of the family! But Philip is not only no son of Hellas; he
+is not even a reputable barbarian, but only a vile fellow of Macedon,
+a country from which formerly even a respectable slave could not be
+purchased!
+
+What is lacking to his unspeakable arrogance? Does he not assemble the
+Pythian games, command Thermopylæ, garrison the passes, secure prior
+access to the oracle at Delphi, and dictate the form of government for
+Thessaly? All this the Greeks look upon with toleration; they seem
+to regard it as they would some tempest, each hoping it will fall on
+someone else. We are all passive and despondent, mutually distrusting
+each other instead of the common foe.
+
+How different the noble spirit of former days! How different that old
+passion for liberty which is now superseded by the love of servitude!
+Then corruption was so deeply detested that there was no pardon for
+the guilt of bribery. Now venality is laughed at and bribery goes
+unpunished. In ships, men, equipment, and revenues our resources are
+larger than ever before, but corruption neutralises them all.
+
+But preparations for war are not sufficient. You must not only be ready
+to encounter the foes without, but must punish those who among you are
+the creatures of Philip, like those who caused the ruin of Olynthus by
+betraying the cavalry and by securing the banishment of Apollonides.
+Similar treachery brought about the downfall of other cities. The same
+fate may befall us. What, then, must be done?
+
+When we have done all that is needful for our own defence, let us next
+send our emissaries to all the other states with the intelligence
+that we are ready. If you imagine that others will save Greece while
+you avoid the conflict, you cherish a fatal delusion. This enterprise
+devolves on you; you inherit it from your ancestors.
+
+
+_IV.--Exterminate the Traitors!_
+
+Men of Athens, your chief misfortune is that, though for the passing
+moment you heed important news, you speedily scatter and forget what
+you have just heard. You have become fully acquainted with the doings
+of Philip, and you well know how great is his ambition; and yet, so
+profound has been our indifference that we have earned the contempt
+of several other states, which now prefer to undertake their defence
+separately rather than in alliance with us.
+
+You must become more deeply convinced than you have been hitherto that
+our destruction is the supreme anxiety of Philip. The special object of
+his hatred is your democratic constitution. Our mode of procedure is a
+mockery, for we are always behind in the execution of our schemes. You
+must form a permanent army with a regular organisation, and with funds
+sufficient for its maintenance.
+
+Most of all, money is needed to meet coming requirements. There was a
+time when money was forthcoming and everything necessary was performed.
+Why do we now decline to do our duty? In a time of peril to the
+commonwealth the affluent should freely contribute of their possessions
+for the welfare of the country; but each class has its obligations to
+the state and should observe them.
+
+Many and inveterate are the causes of our present difficulties. You, O
+Athenians, have surrendered the august position which your predecessors
+bequeathed you, and have indolently permitted a stranger to usurp it.
+The present crisis involves peril for all the states, but to Athens
+most of all; and that not so much on account of Philip's schemes of
+conquest, as of your neglect.
+
+How is it, Athenians, that none affirm concerning Philip that he is
+guilty of aggression, even while he is seizing cities, while those
+who advise resistance are indicated as inciting to war? The reason is
+that those who have been corrupted believe that if you do resist him
+you will overcome him, and they can no longer secure the reward of
+treachery.
+
+Remember what you have at stake. Should you fall under the dominion
+of Philip, he will show you no pity, for his desire is not merely to
+subdue Athens, but to destroy it. The struggle will be to the death;
+therefore, those who would sell the country to him you must exterminate
+without scruple. This is the only city where such treacherous citizens
+can dare to speak in his favour. Only here may a man safely accept a
+bribe and openly address the people.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH WALDO EMERSON
+
+English Traits
+
+  In 1847 Emerson (see Vol. XIII, p. 339) made his second visit to
+  England, this time on a lecturing tour. An outcome of the visit
+  was "English Traits," which was first published in 1856. "I leave
+  England," he wrote on his return home, "with an increased respect
+  for the Englishman. His stuff or substance seems to be the best
+  in the world." "English Traits" deals with a series of definite
+  subjects which do not admit of much philosophic digression, and
+  there is, therefore, an absence of the flashes of spiritual and
+  poetic insight which gave Emerson his charm.
+
+
+_I.--The Anchorage of Britain_
+
+I did not go very willingly to England. I am not a good traveller, nor
+have I found that long journeys yield a fair share of reasonable hours.
+I find a sea-life an acquired taste, like that for tomatoes and olives.
+The sea is masculine, the type of active strength. Look what egg-shells
+are drifting all over it, each one filled with men in ecstasies of
+terror alternating with cockney conceit, as it is rough or smooth. But
+to the geologist the sea is the only firmament; it is the land that is
+in perpetual flux and change. It has been said that the King of England
+would consult his dignity by giving audience to foreign ambassadors in
+the cabin of a man-of-war; and I think the white path of an Atlantic
+ship is the right avenue to the palace-front of this seafaring people.
+
+England is a garden. Under an ash-coloured sky, the fields have been
+combed and rolled till they appear to have been finished with a pencil
+instead of a plough. Rivers, hills, valleys, the sea itself, feel the
+hand of a master. The problem of the traveller landing in Liverpool
+is, Why England is England? What are the elements of that power which
+the English hold over other nations? If there be one test of national
+genius universally accepted, it is success; and if there be one
+successful country in the universe that country is England.
+
+The culture of the day, the thoughts and aims of men, are English
+thoughts and aims. A nation considerable for a thousand years has in
+the last centuries obtained the ascendant, and stamped the knowledge,
+activity, and power of mankind with its impress.
+
+The territory has a singular perfection. Neither hot nor cold, there is
+no hour in the whole year when one cannot work. The only drawback to
+industrial conveniency is the darkness of the sky. The night and day
+are too nearly of a colour.
+
+England resembles a ship in shape, and, if it were one, its best
+admiral could not have anchored it in a more judicious or effective
+position. The shop-keeping nation, to use a shop word, has a good
+stand. It is anchored at the side of Europe, and right in the heart of
+the modern world.
+
+In variety of surface Britain is a miniature of Europe, as if Nature
+had given it an artificial completeness. It is as if Nature had held
+counsel with herself and said: "My Romans are gone. To build my new
+empire I will choose a rude race, all masculine, with brutish strength.
+Sharp and temperate northern breezes shall blow to keep them alive
+and alert. The sea shall disjoin the people from others and knit them
+by a fierce nationality. Long time will I keep them on their feet, by
+poverty, border-wars, seafaring, sea-risks, and stimulus of gain." A
+singular coincidence to this geographic centrality is the spiritual
+centrality which Emanuel Swedenborg ascribes to the people: "The
+English nation are in the centre of all Christians, because they have
+an interior intellectual light. This light they derive from the liberty
+of speaking and writing, and thereby of thinking."
+
+
+_II.--Racial Characteristics_
+
+The British Empire is reckoned to contain a fifth of the population
+of the globe; but what makes the British census proper important is
+the quality of the units that compose it. They are free, forcible men
+in a country where life has reached the greatest value. They have
+sound bodies and supreme endurance in war and in labour. They have
+assimilating force, since they are imitated by their foreign subjects;
+and they are still aggressive and propagandist, enlarging the dominion
+of their arts and liberty.
+
+The English composite character betrays a mixed origin. Everything
+English is a fusion of distant and antagonistic elements. The language
+is mixed; the currents of thought are counter; contemplation and
+practical skill; active intellect and dead conservatism; world-wide
+enterprise and devoted use and wont; a country of extremes--nothing in
+it can be praised without damning exceptions, and nothing denounced
+without salvos of cordial praise.
+
+The sources from which tradition derives its stock are mainly three:
+First, the Celtic--a people of hidden and precarious genius; second,
+the Germans, a people about whom, in the old empire, the rumour ran
+there was never any that meddled with them that repented it not; and,
+third, the Norsemen and the children out of France. Twenty thousand
+thieves landed at Hastings. These founders of the House of Lords were
+greedy and ferocious dragoons, sons of greedy and ferocious pirates.
+Such, however, is the illusion of antiquity and wealth that decent and
+dignified men now existing actually boast their descent from these
+filthy thieves.
+
+As soon as this land, thus geographically posted, got a hardy people
+into it, they could not help becoming the sailors and factors of the
+world. The English, at the present day, have great vigour of body.
+They are round, ruddy, and handsome, with a tendency to stout and
+powerful frames. It is the fault of their forms that they grow stocky,
+but in all ages they are a handsome race, and please by an expression
+blending good nature, valour, refinement, and an uncorrupt youth in the
+face of manhood.
+
+The English are rather manly than warlike. They delight in the
+antagonism which combines in one person the extremes of courage and
+tenderness. Nelson, dying at Trafalgar, says, "Kiss me, Hardy," and
+turns to sleep. Even for their highwaymen this virtue is claimed, and
+Robin Hood is the gentlest thief. But they know where their war-dogs
+lie, and Cromwell, Blake, Marlborough, Nelson, and Wellington are not
+to be trifled with.
+
+They have vigorous health and last well into middle and old age. They
+have more constitutional energy than any other people. They box,
+run, shoot, ride, row, and sail from Pole to Pole. They are the most
+voracious people of prey that have ever existed, and they have written
+the game-books of all countries.
+
+These Saxons are the hands of mankind--the world's wealth-makers. They
+have that temperament which resists every means employed to make its
+possessor subservient to others. The English game is main force to main
+force, the planting of foot to foot, fair play and an open field--a
+rough tug without trick or dodging till one or both comes to pieces.
+They hate craft and subtlety; and when they have pounded each other to
+a poultice they will shake hands and be friends for the remainder of
+their lives.
+
+Their realistic logic of coupling means to ends has given them the
+leadership of the modern world. Montesquieu said: "No people have true
+commonsense but those who are born in England." This commonsense is
+a perception of laws that cannot be stated, or that are learned only
+by practice, with allowance for friction. The bias of the nation is
+a passion for utility. They are heavy at the fine arts, but adroit at
+the coarse. The Frenchman invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the
+shirt. They think him the best-dressed man whose dress is so fit for
+his use that you cannot notice or remember to describe it.
+
+In war the Englishman looks to his means; but, conscious that no
+better race of men exists, they rely most on the simplest means. They
+fundamentally believe that the best stratagem in naval war is to bring
+your ship alongside of the enemy's ship, and bring all your guns to
+bear on him until you or he go to the bottom. This is the old fashion
+which never goes out of fashion.
+
+Tacitus said of the Germans: "Powerful only in sudden efforts, they are
+impatient of toil and labour." This highly destined race, if it had
+not somewhere added the chamber of patience to its brain, would not
+have built London. I know not from which of the tribes and temperaments
+that went to the composition of the people this tenacity was supplied,
+but they clinch every nail they drive. "To show capacity," a Frenchman
+described as the end of speech in a debate. "No," said an Englishman,
+"but to advance the business."
+
+The nation sits in the immense city they have builded--a London
+extended into every man's mind. The modern world is theirs. They have
+made and make it day by day. In every path of practical ability they
+have gone even with the best. There is no department of literature, of
+science, or of useful art in which they have not produced a first-rate
+book. It is England whose opinion is waited for. English trade exists
+to make well everything which is ill-made elsewhere. Steam is almost an
+Englishman.
+
+One secret of the power of this people is their mutual good
+understanding. Not only good minds are born among them, but all the
+people have good minds. An electric touch by any of their national
+ideas melts them into one family. The chancellor carries England on
+his mace, the midshipman at the point of his dirk, the smith on his
+hammer, the cook in the bowl of his spoon, and the sailor times his
+oars to "God save the King!"
+
+I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in
+his shoes. The one thing the English value is pluck. The word is
+not beautiful, but on the quality they signify by it the nation is
+unanimous. The cabmen have it, the merchants have it, the bishops have
+it, the women have it, the journals have it. They require you to dare
+to be of your own opinion, and they hate the practical cowards who
+cannot answer directly Yes or No.
+
+Their vigour appears in the incuriosity and stony neglect each of the
+other. Each man walks, eats, drinks, shaves, dresses, gesticulates,
+and in every manner acts and suffers, without reference to the
+bystanders--he is really occupied with his own affairs, and does not
+think of them. In short, every one of these islanders is an island
+himself, safe, tranquil, incommunicable.
+
+Born in a harsh and wet climate, which keeps him indoors whenever he is
+at rest, and, being of an affectionate and loyal temper, the Englishman
+dearly loves his home. If he is rich he builds a hall, and brings to
+it trophies of the adventures and exploits of the family, till it
+becomes a museum of heirlooms. England produces, under favourable
+conditions of ease and culture, the finest women in the world. Nothing
+can be more delicate without being fantastical, than the courtship and
+mutual carriage of the sexes. Domesticity is the taproot which enables
+the nation to branch wide and high. In an aristocratical country
+like England, not the trial by jury, but the dinner is the capital
+institution. It is the mode of doing honour to a stranger to ask him to
+eat.
+
+The practical power of the English rests on their sincerity. Alfred,
+whom the affection of the nation makes the type of their race, is
+called by a writer at the Norman Conquest, the "truth-speaker." The
+phrase of the lowest of the people is "honour-bright," and their
+praise, "his word is as good as his bond." They confide in each
+other--English believes in English. Madame de Staël says that the
+English irritated Napoleon mainly because they have found out how to
+unite success with honesty. The ruling passion of an Englishman is a
+terror of humbug.
+
+The English race are reputed morose. They have enjoyed a reputation for
+taciturnity for six or seven hundred years. Cold, repressive manners
+prevail, and there is a wooden deadness in certain Englishmen which
+surpasses all other countrymen. In the power of saying rude truth
+no men rival them. They are proud and private, and even if disposed
+to recreation will avoid an open garden. They are full of coarse
+strength, butcher's meat, and sound sleep. They are good lovers, good
+haters, slow but obstinate admirers, and very much steeped in their
+temperament, like men hardly awaked from deep sleep which they enjoy.
+
+The English have a mild aspect, and ringing, cheerful voice. Of
+absolute stoutness of spirit, no nation has more or better examples.
+They are good at storming redoubts, at boarding frigates, at dying in
+the last ditch, or any desperate service which has daylight and honour
+in it. They stoutly carry into every nook and corner of the earth
+their turbulent sense of inquiry, leaving no lie uncontradicted, no
+pretension unexamined.
+
+They are very conscious of their advantageous position in history. I
+suppose that all men of English blood in America, Europe, or Asia, have
+a secret feeling of joy that they are not Frenchmen. They only are not
+foreigners. In short, I am afraid that the English nature is so rank
+and aggressive as to be a little incompatible with any other. The world
+is not wide enough for two. More intellectual than other races, when
+they live with other races they do not take their language, but bestow
+their own. They subsidise other nations, and are not subsidised. They
+proselytise and are not proselytised. They assimilate other nations to
+themselves and are not assimilated.
+
+
+_III.--Wealth, Aristocracy, and Religion_
+
+There is no country in which so absolute a homage is paid to wealth.
+There is a mixture of religion in it. The Englishman esteems wealth a
+final certificate. He believes that every man has himself to thank if
+he does not mend his condition. To pay their debts is their national
+point of honour. The British armies are solvent, and pay for what they
+take. The British empire is solvent. It is their maxim that the weight
+of taxes must be calculated not by what is taken but by what is left.
+They say without shame: "I cannot afford it." Such is their enterprise,
+that there is enough wealth in England to support the entire population
+in idleness one year. The proudest result of this creation of wealth is
+that great and refined forces are put at the disposal of the private
+citizen, and in the social world the Englishman to-day has the best
+lot. I much prefer the condition of an English gentleman of the better
+class to that of any potentate in Europe.
+
+The feudal character of the English state, now that it is getting
+obsolete, glares a little in contrast with democratic tendencies. But
+the frame of society is aristocratic. Every man who becomes rich buys
+land, and does what he can to fortify the nobility, into which he hopes
+to rise. The taste of the people is conservative. They are proud of
+the castles, language, and symbols of chivalry. English history is
+aristocracy with the doors open. Who has courage and faculty, let him
+come in.
+
+All nobility in its beginnings was somebody's natural superiority. The
+things these English have done were not done without peril of life, nor
+without wisdom of conduct, and the first hands, it may be presumed,
+were often challenged to show their right to their honours, or yield
+them to better men.
+
+Comity, social talent, and fine manners no doubt have had their part
+also. The lawyer, the farmer, the silk mercer lies _perdu_ under the
+coronet, and winks to the antiquary to say nothing. They were nobody's
+sons who did some piece of work at a nice moment.
+
+The English names are excellent--they spread an atmosphere of legendary
+melody over the land. Older than epics and histories, which clothe
+a nation, this undershirt sits close to the body. What stores of
+primitive and savage observation it infolds! Cambridge is the bridge
+of the Cam; Sheffield the field of the river Sheaf; Leicester the camp
+of Lear; Waltham is Strong Town; Radcliffe is Red Cliff, and so on--a
+sincerity and use in naming very striking to an American, whose country
+is whitewashed all over with unmeaning names, the cast-off clothes of
+the country from which the emigrants came, or named at a pinch from a
+psalm tune.
+
+In seeing old castles and cathedrals I sometimes say: "This was built
+by another and a better race than any that now look on it." Their
+architecture still glows with faith in immortality. Good churches are
+not built by bad men; at least, there must be probity and enthusiasm
+somewhere in society.
+
+England felt the full heat of the Christianity which fermented Europe,
+and, like the chemistry of fire, drew a firm line between barbarism
+and culture. When the Saxon instinct had secured a service in the
+vernacular tongue the Church was the tutor and university of the people.
+
+Now the Anglican Church is marked by the grace and good sense of its
+forms; by the manly grace of its clergy. The gospel it preaches is "By
+taste are ye saved." The religion of England is part of good breeding.
+When you see on the Continent the well-dressed Englishman come into
+his ambassador's chapel and put his face for silent prayer into his
+well-brushed hat, you cannot help feeling how much national pride prays
+with him, and the religion of a gentleman.
+
+At this moment the Church is much to be pitied. If a bishop meets an
+intelligent gentleman and reads fatal interrogation in his eyes, he has
+no resource but to take wine with him.
+
+But the religion of England--is it the Established Church? No. Is it
+the sects? No. Where dwells the religion? Tell me first where dwells
+electricity, or motion, or thought? They do not dwell or stay at all.
+Electricity is passing, glancing, gesticular; it is a traveller, a
+newness, a secret. Yet, if religion be the doing of all good, and for
+its sake the suffering of all evil, that divine secret has existed in
+England from the days of Alfred to the days of Florence Nightingale,
+and in thousands who have no fame.
+
+
+
+
+Representative Men
+
+  Some of the lectures delivered by Emerson during his lecturing
+  tour in England were published in 1850 under the title of
+  "Representative Men," and the main trend of their thought
+  and opinion is here followed in Emerson's own words. It will
+  be noted that the use of the term "sceptic," as applied to
+  Montaigne, is not the ordinary use of the word, but signifies
+  a person spontaneously given to free inquiry rather than
+  aggressive disbelief. The estimate of Napoleon is original. In
+  "Representative Men" Emerson is much more consecutive in his
+  thought than is customary with him. His pearls are as plentiful
+  here as elsewhere, but they are not scattered disconnectedly.
+
+
+_Plato_
+
+Among secular books, Plato only is entitled to Omar's fanatical
+compliment to the Koran: "Burn all books, for their value is in this
+book." Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated
+among men of thought. Plato is philosophy, and philosophy Plato. No
+wife, no children had he, but the thinkers of all civilised nations are
+his posterity, and are tinged with his mind.
+
+Great geniuses have the shortest biographies. They lived in their
+writings, and so their house and street life is commonplace. Their
+cousins can tell you nothing about them. Plato, especially, has no
+external biography.
+
+Plato stands between the truth and every man's mind, and has almost
+impressed language and the primary forms of thought with his name and
+seal.
+
+The first period of a nation, as of an individual, is the period of
+unconscious strength. Children cry, scream, and stamp with fury, unable
+to express their desires. As soon as they can speak and tell their
+wants they become gentle. With nations he is as a god to them who can
+rightly divide and define. This defining is philosophy. Philosophy is
+the account which the human mind gives to itself of the constitution of
+the world.
+
+Two cardinal facts lie ever at the base of thought: Unity and
+Variety--oneness and otherness.
+
+To this partiality the history of nations corresponds. The country of
+unity, faithful to the idea of a deaf, unimplorable, immense fate, is
+Asia; on the other side, the genius of Europe is active and creative.
+If the East loves infinity, the West delights in boundaries. Plato
+came to join and enhance the energy of each. The excellence of Europe
+and Asia is in his brain. No man ever more fully acknowledged the
+Ineffable; but having paid his homage, as for the human race, to the
+illimitable, he then stood erect, and for the human race affirmed:
+"And yet things are knowable!" Full of the genius of Europe, he said
+"Culture," he said "Nature," but he failed not to add, "There is also
+the divine."
+
+This leads us to the central figure which he has established in his
+academy. Socrates and Plato are the double-star which the most powerful
+instrument will not entirely separate. Socrates, in his traits and
+genius, is the best example of that synthesis which constitutes
+Plato's extraordinary power.
+
+Socrates, a man of humble stem, and a personal homeliness so remarkable
+as to be a cause of wit in others, was a cool fellow, with a knowledge
+of his man, be he whom he might whom he talked with, which laid
+the companion open to certain defeat in debate; and in debate he
+immoderately delighted. He was what in our country people call "an old
+one." This hard-headed humorist, whose drollery diverted the young
+patricians, turns out in the sequel to have a probity as invincible as
+his logic, and to be, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his
+religion. When accused before the judges, he affirmed the immortality
+of the soul and a future reward and punishment, and, refusing to
+recant, was condemned to die; he entered the prison and took away all
+ignominy from the place. The fame of this prison, the fame of the
+discourses there, and the drinking of the hemlock, are one of the most
+precious passages in the history of the world.
+
+The rare coincidence in one ugly body of the droll and the martyr, the
+keen street debater with the sweetest saint known to any history at
+that time, had forcibly struck the mind of Plato, and the figure of
+Socrates placed itself in the foreground of the scene as the fittest
+dispenser of the intellectual treasures he had to communicate.
+
+It remains to say that the defect of Plato is that he is literary,
+and never otherwise. His writings have not the vital authority which
+the screams of prophets and the sermons of unlettered Arabs and Jews
+possess.
+
+And he had not a system. The acutest German, the lovingest disciple
+could never tell what Platonism was. No power of genius has ever yet
+had the smallest success in explaining existence. The perfect enigma
+remains.
+
+
+_Montaigne_
+
+The philosophers affirm disdainfully the superiority of ideas. To
+men of this world the man of ideas appears out of his reason. The
+abstractionist and the materialist thus mutually exasperating each
+other, there arises a third party to occupy the middle ground between
+the two, the sceptic. He labours to be the beam of the balance. There
+is so much to say on all sides. This is the position occupied by
+Montaigne.
+
+In 1571, on the death of his father, he retired from the practice of
+the law, at Bordeaux, and settled himself on his estate. Downright
+and plain dealing, and abhorring to be deceived or to deceive, he was
+esteemed in the country for his sense and probity. In the civil wars of
+the League, which converted every house into a fort, Montaigne kept his
+gates open, and his house without defence. All parties freely came and
+went, his courage and honor being universally esteemed.
+
+Montaigne is the frankest and honestest of all writers. The essays are
+an entertaining soliloquy on every random topic that comes into his
+head, treating everything without ceremony, yet with masculine sense. I
+know not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is the language
+of conversation transferred to a book. Montaigne talks with shrewdness,
+knows the world, and books, and himself; never shrieks, or protests, or
+prays. He keeps the plain; he rarely mounts or sinks; he likes to feel
+solid ground and the stones underneath.
+
+We are natural believers. We are persuaded that a thread runs
+through all things, and all worlds are strung on it as beads. But
+though we reject a sour, dumpish unbelief, to the sceptical class,
+which Montaigne represents, every man at some time belongs. The
+ground occupied by the sceptic is the vestibule of the temple. The
+interrogation of custom at all points is an inevitable stage in
+the growth of every superior mind. It stands in the mind of the
+wise sceptic that our life in this world is not quite so easy of
+interpretation as churches and school books say. He does not wish to
+take ground against these benevolences, but he says: "There are doubts.
+Shall we, because good nature inclines us to virtue's side, say, 'There
+are no doubts--and lie for the right?' Is not the satisfaction of the
+doubts essential to all manliness?"
+
+I may play with the miscellany of facts, and take those superficial
+views which we call scepticism; but I know they will presently appear
+to me in that order which makes scepticism impossible. For the world is
+saturated with deity and law. Things seem to tend downward, to justify
+despondency, to promote rogues, to defeat the just; but by knaves as
+by martyrs the just cause is carried forward, and general ends are
+somewhat answered. The world-spirit is a good swimmer, and storms and
+waves cannot drown him. Through the years and the centuries, through
+evil agents, through toys and atoms, a great and beneficent tendency
+irresistibly streams. So let a man learn to look for the permanent in
+the mutable and fleeting; let him learn to bear the disappearance of
+things he was wont to reverence without losing his reverence.
+
+
+_Shakespeare_
+
+Shakespeare is the only biographer of Shakespeare. So far from
+Shakespeare being the least known, he is the one person in all modern
+history known to us. What point of morals, of manners, of economy,
+of philosophy, of taste, of conduct of life has he not settled?
+What district of man's work has he not remembered? What king has he
+not taught statecraft? What maiden has not found him finer than her
+delicacy? What lover has he not outloved?
+
+Some able and appreciating critics think no criticism on Shakespeare
+valuable that does not rest purely on the dramatic merit; that he is
+falsely judged as poet and philosopher. I think as highly as these
+critics of his dramatic merit, but still think it secondary. He was
+a full man who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and images,
+which, seeking vent, found the drama next at hand.
+
+Shakespeare is as much out of the category of eminent authors as he is
+out of the crowd. He is inconceivably wise; the others, conceivably.
+With this wisdom of life is the equal endowment of imaginative and
+lyric power. An omnipresent humanity co-ordinates all his faculties.
+He has no peculiarity, no importunate topic, but all is duly given. No
+mannerist is he; he has no discoverable egotism--the great he tells
+greatly, the small subordinately. He is wise without emphasis or
+assertion; he is strong as Nature is strong, who lifts the land into
+mountain slopes without effort, and by the same rule as she floats a
+bubble in the air, and likes as well to do the one as the other. This
+power of transferring the inmost truth of things into music and verse
+makes him the type of the poet.
+
+One royal trait that belongs to Shakespeare is his cheerfulness. He
+delights in the world, in man, in woman, for the lovely light that
+sparkles from them. Beauty, the spirit of joy, he sheds over the
+universe. If he appeared in any company of human souls, who would not
+march in his troop? He touches nothing that does not borrow health and
+longevity from his festal style. He was master of the revels to mankind.
+
+
+_Napoleon_
+
+Among the eminent persons of the nineteenth century, Bonaparte owes his
+predominance to the fidelity with which he expresses the aim of the
+masses of active and cultivated men. If Napoleon was Europe, it was
+because the people whom he swayed were little Napoleons. He is the
+representative of the class of industry and skill. "God has granted,"
+says the Koran, "to every people a prophet in its own tongue." Paris,
+London, and New York, the spirit of commerce, of money, of material
+power, were also to have their prophet--and Bonaparte was qualified and
+sent. He was the idol of common men because he, in transcendent degree,
+had the qualities and powers of common men. He came to his own and they
+received him.
+
+An Italian proverb declares that if you would succeed you must not be
+too good. Napoleon renounced, once for all, sentiments and affections,
+and helped himself with his hands and his head. The art of war was the
+game in which he exerted his arithmetic. He had a directness of action
+never before combined with so much comprehension. History is full of
+the imbecility of kings and governors. They are a class of persons to
+be much pitied, for they know not what they should do. But Napoleon
+understood his business. He knew what to do, and he flew to his mark.
+He put out all his strength; he risked everything; he spared nothing;
+he went to the edge of his possibilities.
+
+This vigour was guarded and tempered by the coldest prudence and
+punctuality. His very attack was never the inspiration of courage, but
+the result of calculation. The necessity of his position required a
+hospitality to every sort of talent, and his feeling went along with
+this policy. In fact, every species of merit was sought and advanced
+under his government. Seventeen men in his time were raised from
+common soldiers to the rank of king, marshal, duke, or general. I call
+Napoleon the agent or attorney of the middle class of modern society.
+
+His life was an experiment, under the most favourable conditions, of
+the powers of intellect without conscience. All passed away, like the
+smoke of his artillery, and left no trace. He did all that in him lay
+to live and thrive without moral principle.
+
+
+_Goethe_
+
+I find a provision in the constitution of the world for the writer or
+secretary who is to report the doings of the miraculous spirit of life
+that everywhere throbs and works. Nature will be reported. All things
+are engaged in writing their history. The planet goes attended by its
+shadow. The air is full of sounds, the sky of tokens; the ground is all
+memoranda and signatures.
+
+Society has really no graver interest than the well-being of the
+literary class. Still, the writer does not stand with us on any
+commanding ground. I think this to be his own fault. There have been
+times when he was a sacred person; he wrote Bibles; the first hymns;
+the codes; the epics; tragic songs; Sibylline verses; Chaldæan oracles.
+Every word was true, and woke the nations to new life. How can he be
+honoured when he is a sycophant ducking to the giddy opinion of a
+reckless public?
+
+Goethe was the philosopher of the nineteenth century multitude,
+hundred-handed, Argus-eyed, able and happy to cope with the century's
+rolling miscellany of facts and sciences, and by his own versatility
+dispose of them with ease; and what he says of religion, of passion,
+of marriage, of manners, of property, of paper-money, of periods of
+belief, of omens, of luck, of whatever else, refuses to be forgotten.
+
+What distinguishes Goethe, for French and English readers, is an
+habitual reference to interior truth. But I dare not say that Goethe
+ascended to the highest grounds from which genius has spoken. He is
+incapable of self-surrender to the moral sentiment. Goethe can never
+be dear to men. His is a devotion to truth for the sake of culture.
+But the idea of absolute eternal truth, without reference to my own
+enlargement by it is higher; and the surrender to the torrent of poetic
+inspiration is higher.
+
+
+
+
+ERASMUS
+
+Familiar Colloquies
+
+  Desiderius Erasmus, the most learned ecclesiastic of the
+  fifteenth century, and the friend of Luther and other reformers,
+  was born at Rotterdam on October 28, 1466, and died at Basel on
+  July 12, 1536. He was the son of a Dutchman named Gerard, and,
+  according to the fashion of the age, changed his family name
+  into its respective Latin and Greek equivalents, Desiderius and
+  Erasmus, meaning "desired," or "loved." Entering the priesthood
+  in 1492, he pursued his studies at Paris, and became so renowned
+  a scholar that he was, on visiting England, received with
+  distinction, not only at the universities, but also by the king.
+  For some time Erasmus settled in Italy, brilliant prospects being
+  held out to him at Rome; but his restless temperament impelled
+  him to wander again, and he came again to England, where he
+  associated with the most distinguished scholars, including Dean
+  Colet and Sir Thomas More. Perhaps nothing in the whole range
+  of mediæval literature made a greater sensation immediately on
+  its appearance, in 1521, than the "Colloquia," or "Familiar
+  Colloquies Concerning Men, Manners, and Things," of Erasmus. As
+  its title indicates, it consists of dialogues, and its author
+  intended it to make youths more proficient in Latin, that
+  language being the chief vehicle of intercommunication in the
+  Middle Ages. But Erasmus claims, in his preface, that another
+  purpose of the book is to make better men as well as better
+  Latinists, for he says: "If the ancient teachers of children are
+  commended who allured the young with wafers, I think it ought
+  not to be charged on me that by the like reward I allure youths
+  either to the elegancy of the Latin tongue or to piety." This
+  selection is made from the Latin text.
+
+
+_Concerning Men, Manners and Things_
+
+Erasmus issued his first edition of the "Colloquies" in 1521.
+Successive editions appeared with great rapidity. Its popularity
+wherever Latin was read was immense, but it was condemned by the
+Sarbonne, prohibited in France, and devoted to the flames publicly
+in Spain. The reader of its extraordinary chapters will not fail
+to comprehend that such a fate was inevitable in the case of such a
+production in those times. For, as the friend of the reformers who were
+"turning the world upside down," Erasmus in this treatise penned the
+most audacious, sardonic, and withering onslaught ever delivered by
+any writer on ecclesiastical corruption of religion. He never attacks
+religion itself, but extols and defends it; his aim is to launch a
+series of terrific innuendoes on ecclesiasticism as it had developed
+and as he saw it. He satirically, and even virulently, attacks monks
+and many of their habits, the whole system of cloister-life, the
+festivals and pilgrimages which formed one of the chief features of
+religious activity, and the grotesque superstitions which his peculiar
+genius for eloquent irony so well qualified him to caricature.
+
+This great work, one of the epoch-making books of the world, consists
+of sixty-two "Colloquies," of very varying length. They treat of the
+most curiously diverse topics, as may be imagined from such titles of
+the chapters as "The Youth's Piety," "The Lover and the Maiden," "The
+Shipwreck," "The Epithalamium of Peter Egidius," "The Alchemist," "The
+Horse Cheat," "The Cyclops, or the Gospel Carrier," "The Assembly or
+Parliament of Women," "Concerning Early Rising."
+
+A sample of the style of the "Colloquies" in the more serious sections
+may be taken from the one entitled "The Religious Banquet."
+
+NEPHEW: How unwillingly have I seen many Christians die. Some put their
+trust in things not to be confided in; others breathe out their souls
+in desperation, either out of a consciousness of their lewd lives, or
+by reason of scruples that have been injected into their minds, even in
+their dying hours, by some indiscreet men, die almost in despair.
+
+CHRYSOGLOTTUS: It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent
+their lives in philosophising all their lives about ceremonies.
+
+NEPHEW: What do you mean by ceremonies?
+
+CHRYSOGLOTTUS: I will tell you, but with protestation beforehand,
+over and over, that I do not find fault with the rites and sacraments
+of the Church, but rather highly approve of them; but I blame a
+wicked and superstitious sort of people who teach people to put their
+confidence in these things, omitting those things that make them truly
+Christians. If you look into Christians in common, do they not live as
+if the whole sum of religion consisted in ceremonies? With how much
+pomp are the ancient rites of the Church set forth in baptism? The
+infant waits without the church door, the exorcism is performed, the
+catechism is performed, vows are made, Satan is abjured with all his
+pomps and pleasures; then the child is anointed, signed, seasoned with
+salt, dipped, a charge given to its sureties to see it well brought
+up; and the oblation money being paid, they are discharged, and by
+this time the child passes for a Christian, and in some sense is so. A
+little time after it is anointed again, and in time learns to confess,
+receive the sacrament, is accustomed to rest on holy days, to hear
+divine service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from flesh; and if he
+observes all these he passes for an absolute Christian. He marries a
+wife, and then comes on another sacrament; he enters into holy orders,
+is anointed again and consecrated, his habit is changed, and then to
+prayers.
+
+Now, I approve of the doing of all this well enough, but the doing
+of them more out of custom than conscience I do not approve. But to
+think that nothing else is requisite for the making of a Christian I
+absolutely disapprove. For the greater part of the men in the world
+trust to these things, and think they have nothing else to do but get
+wealth by right or wrong, to gratify their passions of lust, rage,
+malice, ambition. And this they do till they come on their death-bed.
+And then follow more ceremonies--confession upon confession more
+unction still, the eucharists are administered; tapers, the cross, the
+holy water are brought in; indulgences are procured, if they are to be
+had for love or money; and orders are given for a magnificent funeral.
+Now, although these things may be well enough, as they are done in
+conformity to ecclesiastical customs, yet there are some more internal
+impressions which have an efficacy to fortify us against the assaults
+of death by filling our hearts with joy, and helping us to go out of
+the world with a Christian assurance.
+
+EUSEBIUS: When I was in England I saw St. Thomas' tomb all over
+bedecked with a vast number of jewels of an immense price, besides
+other rich furniture, even to admiration. I had rather that these
+superfluities should be applied to charitable uses than to be reserved
+for princes that shall one time or other make a booty of them. The holy
+man, I am confident, would have been better pleased to have had his
+tomb adorned with leaves and flowers.... Rich men, nowadays, will have
+their monuments in churches, whereas in time past they could hardly get
+room for their saints there. If I were a priest or a bishop, I would
+put it into the head of these thick-skulled courtiers or merchants
+that if they would atone for their sins to Almighty God they should
+privately bestow their liberality on the relief of the poor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A wonderful plea for peace, in shape of an exquisite satire, is the
+"Colloquy" entitled "Charon." It is a dialogue between Charon, the
+ghostly boatman on the River Styx, and Genius Alastor. Its style may be
+gathered from the following excerpt.
+
+CHARON: Whither are you going so brisk, and in such haste, Alastor?
+
+ALASTOR: O Charon, you come in the nick of time; I was coming to you.
+
+CHARON: Well, what news do you bring?
+
+ALASTOR: I bring a message to you and Prosperine that you will be glad
+to hear. All the Furies have been no less diligent than they have been
+successful in gaining their point. There is not one foot of ground
+upon earth that they have not infected with their hellish calamities,
+seditions, wars, robberies, and plagues. Do you get your boat and your
+oars ready; you will have such a vast multitude of ghosts come to you
+anon that I am afraid you will not be able to carry them all over
+yourself.
+
+CHARON: I could have told you that.
+
+ALASTOR: How came you to know it?
+
+CHARON: Ossa brought me that news about two days ago!
+
+ALASTOR: Nothing is more swift than that goddess. But what makes you
+loitering here, having left your boat?
+
+CHARON: My business brought me hither. I came hither to provide myself
+with a good strong three-oared boat, for my boat is so rotten and leaky
+with age that it will not carry such a burden, if Ossa told me true.
+
+ALASTOR: What was it that Ossa told you?
+
+CHARON: That the three monarchs of the world were bent upon each
+other's destruction with a mortal hatred, and that no part of
+Christendom was free from the rage of war; for these three have drawn
+in all the rest to be engaged in the war with them. They are all so
+haughty that not one of them will in the least submit to the other.
+Nor are the Danes, the Poles, the Scots, nor the Turks at quiet, but
+are preparing to make dreadful havoc. The plague rages everywhere: in
+Spain, Britain, Italy, France; and, more than all, there is a new fire
+sprung out of the variety of opinions, which has so corrupted the minds
+of all men that there is no such thing as sincere friendship anywhere;
+but brother is at enmity with brother, and husband and wife cannot
+agree. And it is to be hoped that this distraction will be a glorious
+destruction of mankind, if these controversies, that are now managed by
+the tongue and pen, come once to be decided by arms.
+
+ALASTOR: All that fame has told you is true; for I myself, having been
+a constant companion of the Furies, have with these eyes seen more than
+all this, and that they never at any time have approved themselves more
+worthy of their name than now.
+
+CHARON: But there is danger lest some good spirit should start up and
+of a sudden exhort them to peace. And men's minds are variable, for
+I have heard that among the living there is one Polygraphus who is
+continually, by his writing, inveighing against wars, and exhorting to
+peace.
+
+ALASTOR: Ay, ay, but he has a long time been talking to the deaf. He
+once wrote a sort of hue and cry after peace, that was banished or
+driven away; after that an epitaph upon peace defunct. But then, on the
+other hand, there are others that advance our cause no less than do
+the Furies themselves. They are a sort of animals in black and white
+vestments, ash-coloured coats, and various other dresses, that are
+always hovering about the courts of the princes, and are continually
+instilling into their ears the love of war, and exhorting the nobility
+and common people to it, haranguing them in their sermons that it is a
+just, holy, and religious war. And that which would make you stand in
+admiration at the confidence of these men is the cry of both parties.
+In France they preach it up that God is on the French side, and that
+they can never be overcome that has God for their protector. In
+England and Spain the cry is, "The war is not the king's, but God's";
+therefore, if they do but fight like men, they depend on getting the
+victory, and if anyone should chance to fall in the battle, he will not
+die, but fly directly up into heaven, arms and all.
+
+
+
+
+In Praise of Folly
+
+  "The Praise of Folly" was written in Latin, and the title,
+  "Encomium Moriæ," is a pun on the name of his friend, the Greek
+  word _moria_ (folly) curiously corresponding with his host's
+  family name. The purpose of this inimitable satire is to cover
+  every species of foolish men and women with ridicule. Yet through
+  all the biting sarcasm runs an unbroken vein of religious
+  seriousness, the contrast greatly enhancing the impression
+  produced by this masterpiece.
+
+
+_I.--Stultitia's Declamation_
+
+In whatever manner I, the Goddess of Folly, may be generally spoken of
+by mortals, yet I assert it emphatically that it is from me, Stultitia,
+and from my influence only, that gods and men derive all mirth and
+cheerfulness. You laugh, I see. Well, even that is a telling argument
+in my favour. Actually now, in this most numerous assembly, as soon as
+ever I have opened my mouth, the countenances of all have instantly
+brightened up with fresh and unwonted hilarity, whereas but a few
+moments ago you were all looking demure and woebegone.
+
+On my very brow my name is written. No one would take me, Stultitia,
+for Minerva. No one would contend that I am the Goddess of Wisdom. The
+mere expression of my countenance tells its own tale. Not only am I
+incapable of deceit, but even those who are under my sway are incapable
+of deceit likewise. From my illustrious sire, Plutus [Wealth], I glory
+to be sprung, for he, and no other, was the great progenitor of gods
+and men, and I care not what Hesiod, or Homer, or even Jupiter himself
+may maintain to the contrary. Everything, I affirm, is subjected to the
+control of Plutus. War, peace, empires, designs, judicial decisions,
+weddings, treaties, alliances, laws, arts, things ludicrous and things
+serious, are all administered in obedience to his sovereign will.
+
+Now notice the admirable foresight which nature exercises, in order
+to ensure that men shall never be destitute of folly as the principal
+ingredient in their constitution. Wisdom, as your divines and moralists
+put it, consists in men being guided by their reason; and folly, in
+their being actuated by their passions. See then here what Jupiter
+has done. In order to prevent the life of man from being utterly
+intolerable, he has endowed him with reason in singularly small
+proportion to his passions--only, so to speak, as a half-ounce is to a
+pound. And whereas he has dispersed his passions over every portion of
+his body, he has confined his reason to a narrow little crevice in his
+skull.
+
+And yet, of these silly human beings, the male sex is born under the
+necessity of transacting the business of the world. When Jupiter was
+taking counsel with me I advised him to add a woman to the man--a
+creature foolish and frivolous, but full of laughter and sweetness,
+who would season and sweeten by her folly the sadness of his manly
+intelligence.
+
+When Plato doubted whether or not he should place women in the class
+of rational animals, he really only wished to indicate the remarkable
+silliness of that sex. Yet women will not be so absolutely senseless as
+to be offended if I, a woman myself, the goddess Stultitia, tell them
+thus plainly that they are fools. They will, if they look at the matter
+aright, be flattered by it. For they are by many degrees more favoured
+creatures than men. They have beauty--and oh, what a gift is that! By
+its power they rule the rulers of the world.
+
+The supreme wish of women is to win the admiration of men, and they
+have no more effectual means to this end than folly. Men, no doubt,
+will contend that it is the pleasure they have in women's society, and
+not their folly, that attracts them. I answer that their pleasure is
+folly, and nothing but folly, in which they delight. You see, then,
+from what fountain is derived the highest and most exquisite enjoyment
+that falls to man's lot in life. But there are some men (waning old
+crones, most of them) who love their glasses better than the lasses,
+and place their chief delight in tippling. Others love to make fools
+of themselves to raise a laugh at a feast, and I beg to say that of
+laughter, fun, and pleasantry, I--Folly--am the sole purveyor.
+
+
+_II.--The Mockery of Wisdom_
+
+So much for the notion that wisdom is of any use in the pleasures of
+life. Well, the next thing that our gods of wisdom will assert is that
+wisdom is necessary for affairs of state. Says Plato, "Those states
+will prosper whose rulers are guided by the spirit of philosophy." With
+this opinion I totally disagree. Consult history, and it will tell you
+that the two Catos, Brutus, Cassius, the Gracchi, Cicero, and Marcus
+Antoninus all disturbed the tranquillity of the state and brought down
+on them by their philosophy the disgust and disfavour of the citizens.
+And who are the men who are most prone, from weariness of life, to
+seek to put an end to it? Why, men of reputed wisdom. Not to mention
+Diogenes, the Catos, the Cassii, and the Bruti, there is the remarkable
+case of Chiron, who, though he actually had immortality conferred on
+him, voluntarily preferred death.
+
+You see, then, that if men were universally wise, the world would be
+depopulated, and there would be need of a new creation. But, since the
+world generally is under the influence of folly and not of wisdom, the
+case is, happily, different. I, Folly, by inspiring men with hopes
+of good things they will never get, so charm away their woes that
+they are far from wishing to die. Nay, the less cause there is for
+them to desire to live, the more, nevertheless, do they love life. It
+is of my bounty that you see everywhere men of Nestorean longevity,
+mumbling, without brains, without teeth, whose hair is white, whose
+heads are bald, so enamoured of life, so eager to look youthful, that
+they use dyes, wigs, and other disguises, and take to wife some frisky
+heifer of a creature; while aged and cadaverous-looking women are seen
+caterwauling, and, as the Greeks express it, behaving goatishly, in
+order to induce some beauteous Phaon to pay court to them.
+
+As to the wisdom of the learned professions, the more empty-headed and
+the more reckless any member of any one of them is, the more he will be
+thought of. The physician is always in request, and yet medicine, as it
+is now frequently practised, is nothing but a system of pure humbug.
+Next in repute to the physicians stand the pettifogging lawyers, who
+are, according to the philosophers, a set of asses. And asses, I grant
+you that, they are. Nevertheless, it is by the will and pleasure of
+these asses that the business of the world is transacted, and they make
+fortunes while the poor theologians starve.
+
+By the immortal gods, I solemnly swear to you that the happiest men
+are those whom the world calls fools, simpletons, and blockheads. For
+they are entirely devoid of the fear of death. They have no accusing
+consciences to make them fear it. They are, happily, without the
+experience of the thousands of cares that lacerate the minds of other
+men. They feel no shame, no solicitude, no ambition, no envy, no love.
+And, according to the theologians, they are free from any imputation of
+the guilt of sin! Ah, ye besotted men of wisdom, you need no further
+evidence than the ills you have gone through to convince you from what
+a mass of calamities I have delivered my idiotic favourites.
+
+To be deceived, people say, is wretched. But I hold that what is most
+wretched is not to be deceived. They are in great error who imagine
+that a man's happiness consists in things as they are. No; it consists
+entirely in his opinion of what they are. Man is so constituted that
+falsehood is far more agreeable to him than truth.
+
+Does anyone need proof of this? Let him visit the churches, and
+assuredly he will find it. If solemn truth is dwelt on, the listeners
+at once become weary, yawn, and sleep; but if the orator begins some
+silly tale, they are all attention. And the saints they prefer to
+appeal to are those whose histories are most made up of fable and
+romance. Though to be deceived adds much more to your happiness than
+not to be deceived, it yet costs you much less trouble.
+
+And now to pass to another argument in my favour. Among all the praises
+of Bacchus this is the chief, that he drives away care; but he does it
+only for a short time, and then all your care comes again. How much
+more complete are the benefits mankind derive from me! I also afford
+them intoxication, but an intoxication whose influence is perennial,
+and all, too, without cost to them. And my favours I deny to nobody.
+Mars, Apollo, Saturn, Phœbus, and Neptune are more chary of their
+bounties and dole them out to their favourites only but I confine my
+favours to none.
+
+
+_III.--Classification of Fools_
+
+Of all the men whose doings I have witnessed, the most sordid are men
+of trade, and appropriately so, for they handle money, a very sordid
+thing indeed. Yet, though they lie, pilfer, cheat, and impose on
+everybody, as soon as they grow rich they are looked up to as princes.
+But as I look round among the various classes of men, I specially note
+those who are esteemed to possess more than ordinary sagacity. Among
+these a foremost place is occupied by the schoolmasters. How miserable
+would these be were it not that I, Folly, of my benevolence, ameliorate
+their wretchedness and render them insanely happy in the midst of their
+drudgery! Their lot is one of semi-starvation and of debasing slavery.
+In the schools, those bridewells of uproar and confusion, they grow
+prematurely old and broken down, Yet, thanks to my good services, they
+know not their own misery. For in their own estimation they are mighty
+fine fellows, strutting about and striking terror into the hearts of
+trembling urchins, half scarifying the little wretches with straps,
+canes, and birches. They are, apparently, quite unconscious of the dust
+and dirt with which their schoolrooms are polluted. In fact, their own
+most wretched servitude is to them a kingdom of felicity.
+
+The poets owe less to me. Yet they, too, are enthusiastic devotees of
+mine, for their entire business consists in tickling the ears of fools
+with silly ditties and ridiculously romantic tales. Of the services of
+my attendants, Philautia [Self-approbation] and Kolakia [Flattery],
+they never fail to avail themselves, and really I do not know that
+there is any other class of men in the world amongst whom I should find
+more devoted and constant followers.
+
+Moreover, there are the rhetoricians. Quintilian, the prince of them
+all, has written an immense chapter on no more serious subject than
+how to excite a laugh. Those, again, who hunt after immortal fame in
+the domain of literature unquestionably belong to my fraternity. Poor
+fellows! They pass a wretched existence poring over their manuscripts,
+and for what reward? For the praise of the very, very limited few who
+are capable of appreciating their erudition.
+
+Very naturally, the barristers merit our attention next. Talk of
+female garrulity! Why, I would back any one of them to win a prize for
+chattering against any twenty of the most talkative women that you
+could pick out. And well indeed would it be if they had no worse fault
+than that. I am bound to say that they are not only loquacious, but
+pugnacious. Their quarrelsomeness is astounding.
+
+After these come the bearded and gowned philosophers. Their insane
+self-deception as to their sagacity and learning is very delightful.
+They beguile their time with computing the magnitude of the sun,
+moon, and stars, and they assign causes for all the phenomena of the
+universe, as if nature had initiated them into all her secrets. In
+reality they know nothing, but profess to know everything.
+
+
+_IV.--On Princes and Pontiffs_
+
+It is high time that I should say a few words to you about kings and
+the royal princes belonging to their courts. Very different are they
+from those whom I have just been describing, who pretend to be wise
+when they are the reverse, for these high personages frankly and openly
+live a life of folly, and it is just that I should give them their
+due, and frankly and openly tell them so. They seem to regard it to be
+the duty of a king to addict himself to the chase; to keep up a grand
+stud of horses; to extract as much money as possible from the people;
+to caress by every means in his power the vulgar populace, in order to
+win their good graces, and so make them the subservient tools of his
+tyrannical behests.
+
+As for the grandees of the court, a more servile, insipid, empty-headed
+set than the generality of them you will fail to find anywhere. Yet
+they wish to be regarded as the greatest personalities on earth. Not a
+very modest wish, and yet, in one respect, they are modest enough. For
+instance, they wish to be bedecked with gold and gems and purple, and
+other external symbols of worth and wisdom, but nothing further do they
+require.
+
+These courtiers, however, are superlatively happy in the belief that
+they are perfectly virtuous. They lie in bed till noon. Then they
+summon their chaplain to their bedside to offer up the sacrifice of
+the mass, and as the hireling priest goes through his solemn farce
+with perfunctory rapidity, they, meanwhile, have all but dropped
+off again into a comfortable condition of slumber. After this they
+betake themselves to breakfast; and that is scarcely over when dinner
+supervenes. And then come their pastimes--their dice, their cards, and
+their gambling--their merriment with jesters and buffoons, and their
+gallantries with court favourites.
+
+Next let us turn our attention to popes, cardinals, and bishops, who
+have long rivalled, if they do not surpass, the state and magnificence
+of princes. If bishops did but bear in mind that a pastoral staff is an
+emblem of pastoral duties, and that the cross solemnly carried before
+them is a reminder of the earnestness with which they should strive
+to crucify the flesh, their lot would be one replete with sadness and
+solicitude. As things are, a right bonny time do they spend, providing
+abundant pasturage for themselves, and leaving their flocks to the
+negligent charge of so-called friars and vicars.
+
+Fortune favours the fool. We colloquially speak of him and such as him
+as "lucky birds," while, when we speak of a wise man, we proverbially
+describe him as one who has been "born under an evil star," and as one
+whose "horse will never carry him to the front." If you wish to get a
+wife, mind, above all things, that you beware of wisdom; for the girls,
+without exception, are heart and soul so devoted to fools, that you may
+rely on it a man who has any wisdom in him they will shun as they would
+a vampire.
+
+And now, to sum up much in a few words, go among what classes of men
+you will, go among popes, princes, cardinals, judges, magistrates,
+friends, foes, great men, little men, and you will not fail to find
+that a man with plenty of money at his command has it in his power to
+obtain everything that he sets his heart upon. A wise man, however,
+despises money. And what is the consequence? Everyone despises him!
+
+
+
+
+GESTA ROMANORUM
+
+A Story-Book of the Middle Ages
+
+  The "Gesta Romanorum," or "Deeds of the Romans," a quaint
+  collection of moral tales compiled by the monks, was used in
+  the Middle Ages for pulpit instruction. Hence the curious
+  "Applications" to the stories, two of which are here given as
+  examples. Wynkyn de Worde was the first to print the "Gesta" in
+  English, about 1510. His version is based on Latin manuscripts
+  of English origin, and differs from the first edition, and from
+  the Latin text printed abroad about 1473. The stories have
+  little to do with authentic Roman history, and abound in amusing
+  confusions, contradictions, and anachronisms. But their interest
+  is undeniable, and they form the source of many famous pieces of
+  English literature. In the English "Gesta" occur the originals of
+  the bond and casket incidents in "The Merchant of Venice."
+
+
+_I.--Of Love_
+
+Pompey was a wise and powerful king. He had one well-beloved daughter,
+who was very beautiful. Her he committed to the care of five soldiers,
+who were to guard her night and day. Before the door of the princess's
+chamber they hung a burning lamp, and, moreover, they kept a
+loud-barking dog to rouse them from sleep. But the lady panted for the
+pleasures of the world, and one day, looking abroad, she was espied by
+a certain amorous duke, who made her many fair promises.
+
+Hoping much from these, the princess slew the dog, put out the light,
+and fled by night with the duke. Now, there was in the palace a certain
+doughty champion, who pursued the fugitives and beheaded the duke. He
+brought the lady home again; but her father would not see her, and
+thenceforward she passed her time bewailing her misdeeds.
+
+Now, at court there was a wise and skilful mediator, who, being moved
+with compassion, reconciled the lady with her father and betrothed
+her to a powerful nobleman. The king then gave his daughter diverse
+gifts. These were a rich, flowing tunic inscribed with the words,
+"Forgiven. Sin no more"; and a golden coronet with the legend, "Thy
+dignity is from me." Her champion gave her a ring, engraved, "I have
+loved thee; learn thou to love." Likewise the mediator bestowed a ring,
+saying, "What have I done? How much? Why?" A third ring was given by
+the king's son, with the words: "Despise not thy nobility." A fourth
+ring, from her brother, bore the motto: "Approach! Fear not. I am thy
+brother." Her husband gave a golden coronet, confirming his wife in
+the inheritance of his possessions, and superscribed: "Now thou are
+espoused, sin no more."
+
+The lady kept these gifts as long as she lived. She regained the
+affections of those whom her folly had estranged, and closed her days
+in peace.
+
+
+APPLICATION
+
+My beloved, the king is our Heavenly Father; the daughter is the soul;
+the guardian soldiers are the five senses; the lamp is the will; the
+dog is conscience; the duke is the Evil One. The mediator is Christ.
+The cloak is our Lord's wounded body. The champion and the brother are
+likewise Christ; the coronet is His crown of thorns; the rings are the
+wounds in His hands and feet. He is also the Spouse. Let us study to
+keep these gifts uninjured.
+
+
+_II.--Of Fidelity_
+
+The subject of a certain king, being captured by pirates, wrote to
+his father for ransom; but the father refused, and the youth was
+left wasting in prison. Now, his captor had a beautiful and virtuous
+daughter, who came to comfort the prisoner. At first he was too
+disconsolate to listen to her, but at length he begged her to try
+to set him free. The lady feared her father's wrath, but at last, on
+promise of marriage, she freed the young man, and fled with him to his
+own country. His father said, "Son, I am overjoyed at thy return, but
+who is the lady under thy escort?"
+
+When his son told him, he charged him, on pain of losing his
+inheritance, not to marry her.
+
+"But she released me from deadly peril," said the youth.
+
+The father answered, "Son, thou mayest not confide in her, for she hath
+deceived her own father; and, furthermore, although she indeed set
+thee free, it was but to oblige thee to marry her. And since it was an
+unworthy passion that was the source of thy liberty, I think that she
+ought not to be thy wife."
+
+When the lady heard these reasons, she answered thus, "I have not
+deceived my parent. He that deceives diminishes a certain good. But my
+father is so rich that he needs not any addition. Wherefore, your son's
+ransom would have left him but little richer, while you it would have
+utterly impoverished. I have thus served you, and done my father no
+injury. As for unworthy passion, that arises from wealth, honours, or a
+handsome appearance, none of which your son possessed, for he had not
+even enough to procure his ransom, and imprisonment had destroyed his
+beauty. Therefore, I freed him out of compassion."
+
+When the father heard this, he could object nothing more. So the son
+married the lady with great pomp, and closed his life in peace.
+
+
+APPLICATION
+
+My beloved, the son is the human race, led captive by the devil. The
+father is the world, that will not redeem the sinner, but loves to
+detain him. The daughter is Christ.
+
+
+_III.--O Venial Sin_
+
+Julian, a noble soldier, fond of the chase, was one day pursuing a
+stag, which turned and addressed him thus, "Thou who pursuest me so
+fiercely shalt one day destroy thy parents."
+
+In great alarm, Julian sought a far country, where he enlisted with a
+certain chieftain. For his renowned services in war and peace he was
+made a knight, and wedded to the widow of a castellan, with her castle
+as a dowry.
+
+Meanwhile, his parents sought him sorrowing, and coming at length to
+Julian's castle in his absence, they told his wife their story. The
+lady, for the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and
+early in the morning went forth to her devotions. Julian returned, and
+softly entering his wife's apartment, saw two persons therein, and was
+filled with terrible alarm for his lady's fealty.
+
+Without pause, he slew both, and hurried out. Meeting his wife in the
+church porch, he fell into amazement, and asked who they might be.
+Hearing the truth, he was shaken with an agony of tears, and cried,
+"Accursed that I am! Dearest wife, forgive, and receive my last
+farewell!"
+
+"Nay," she replied. "Wilt thou abandon me, beloved, and leave me
+widowed? I, that have shared thy happiness will now share thy grief!"
+
+Together they departed to a great and dangerous river, where many had
+perished. There they built a hospital, where they abode in contrition,
+ferrying over such as wished to cross the river, and cherishing the
+poor. After many years, Julian was aroused at midnight by a dolorous
+voice calling his name. He found and ferried over a leper, perishing
+with cold. Failing to warm the wretch by other means, Julian placed
+him in his own bed, and strove by the heat of his own body to restore
+him. After a while he who seemed sick and cold and leprous appeared
+robed in immortal splendour, and, waving his light wings, seemed ready
+to mount up into heaven. Turning upon his wondering host a look of the
+utmost benignity, the visitant exclaimed, "Julian, the Lord hath sent
+me to thee to announce the acceptance of thy contrition. Ere long thou
+and thy partner will sleep in Him."
+
+So saying, the angelic messenger disappeared, and Julian and his wife,
+after a short time occupied in good works, died in peace.
+
+
+_IV.--Of the End of Sinners_
+
+Dionysius records that Perillus, wishing to become the artificer of
+Phalaris, the cruel tyrant of Agrigentum, presented him with a brazen
+bull. In its side was a secret door, for the entry of those who should
+be burned to death within. The idea was that the agonised cries of the
+victim, resembling the roaring of a bull and nothing human, should
+arouse no feeling of mercy. The king, highly applauding the invention,
+said, "Friend, the value of thy industry is still untried; more cruel
+even than the people account me, thou thyself shalt be the first
+victim."
+
+There is no law more equitable than that "the artificer of death should
+perish by his own devices," as Ovid hath observed.
+
+
+_V.--Of Too Much Pride_
+
+As the Emperor Jovinian lay abed, reflecting on his power and
+possessions, he impiously asked, "Is there any other god than I?"
+
+Amid such thoughts he fell asleep.
+
+Now, on the morrow, as he followed the chase, he separated himself
+from his followers in order to bathe in a stream. And as he bathed, one
+like him in all respects took the emperor's dress, and arraying himself
+in them, mounted the monarch's horse, and joined the royal retinue,
+who knew him not from their master. Jovinian, horseless and naked, was
+vexed beyond measure.
+
+"Miserable that I am," he exclaimed, "I will to a knight who lives
+hard by. Him have I promoted; haply he will befriend me." But when he
+declared himself to be Jovinian, the knight ordered him to be flogged.
+"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the emperor, "is it possible that one whom I
+have loaded with honours should use me thus?"
+
+Next he sought out a certain duke, one of his privy counsellors, and
+told his tale.
+
+"Poor, mad wretch," said the duke. "I am but newly returned from the
+palace, where I left the emperor."
+
+He therefore had Jovinian flogged, and imprisoned. Contriving to
+escape, he went to the palace. "Surely," he reflected, "my servants
+will know me." But his own porter denied him. Nevertheless, he
+persuaded the man to take a secret sign to the empress, and to demand
+his imperial robes. The empress, sitting at table with the feigned
+emperor, was much disturbed, and said, "Oh, my lord, there is a vile
+fellow at the gate who declares the most hidden passages of our life,
+and says he is my husband."
+
+Being condemned to be dragged by a horse's tail, Jovinian, in despair,
+sought his confessor's cell. But the holy man would not open to him,
+although at last, being adjured by the name of the Crucified, he gave
+him shrift at the window. Thereupon he knew the emperor, and giving him
+some clothes, bade him show himself again at the palace. This he did,
+and was received with due obeisance. Still, none knew which was the
+emperor, and which the impostor, until the feigned emperor spake.
+
+"I," said he, "am the guardian angel of the king's soul. He has now
+purged his pride by penance; let your obedience wait on him."
+
+So saying, he disappeared. The emperor gave thanks to God, lived
+happily after, and finished his days in peace.
+
+
+_VI.--Of Avarice_
+
+A covetous and wicked carpenter placed all his riches in a log, which
+he hid by his fireside. Now, the sea swept away that part of his house,
+and drifted the log to a city where lived a generous man. He found the
+log, cleft it, and laid the gold in a secure place until he should
+discover the owner.
+
+Now, the carpenter, seeking his wealth with lamentations, came by
+chance to the house of him that had found it. Mentioning his loss, his
+host said to himself, "I will prove if God will that I return his money
+to him." He then made three cakes, one filled with earth, the second
+with dead men's bones, and the third with some of the lost gold. The
+carpenter, being invited to choose, weighed the cakes in his hand, and
+finding that with earth heaviest, took it.
+
+"And if I want more, my worthy host," said he, "I will choose that,"
+laying his hand on the cake containing the bones. "The third you may
+keep for yourself."
+
+"Thou miserable varlet," cried the host. "It is thine own gold, which
+plainly the Lord wills not that I return to thee."
+
+So saying, he distributed all the treasure among the poor, and drove
+the carpenter away from his house in great tribulation.
+
+
+_VII.--Of Temporary Tribulation_
+
+Antiochus, king of Antioch, had one lovely daughter, who was much
+courted. But her father, seeking to withhold her from marriage,
+proposed a riddle to every suitor, and each one who failed to guess the
+answer was put to death. Among the suitors came Apollonius, the young
+Prince of Tyre, who guessed the riddle, the answer to which revealed a
+shameful secret of the king's life. Antiochus, loudly denying that the
+young man had hit upon the truth, sent him away for thirty days, and
+bade him try again, on pain of death. So Apollonius departed.
+
+Now, Antiochus sent his steward, Taliarchus, to Tyre, with orders to
+destroy Apollonius; but by the time the steward arrived the prince had
+put to sea in a fleet laden with treasure, corn, and many changes of
+raiment. Hearing this, Antiochus set a price on the head of Apollonius,
+and pursued him with a great armament. The prince, arriving at Tharsus,
+saved that city from famine by the supplies he brought, and a statue
+was raised in his honour. Then, by the advice of one Stranguilio and
+his wife, Dionysias, he sailed to Pentapolis. On the way he suffered
+shipwreck, and reached that city on a plank. There, by his skill in
+athletics and music, he won the favour of Altistrates, the king, who
+gave him his daughter to wife.
+
+Some time after, hearing that the wicked Antiochus and his daughter
+had been killed by lightning, Apollonius and his wife set sail to take
+up the sovereignty of Antioch, which had fallen to him. On the way the
+lady died, leaving a new-born daughter. The prince placed his wife's
+body in a coffin smeared with pitch, and committed it to the deep. In
+the coffin he put money and a tablet, instructing anyone who found the
+body to bury it sumptuously. Apollonius returned to Pentapolis and
+gave his infant daughter into the care of Stranguilio and Dionysias.
+Then he himself sailed away and wandered the world in deep grief. In
+the meantime, his wife's body was cast up at Ephesus, and was found by
+the physician Cerimon, one of whose pupils revived the lady, who became
+a vestal of Diana.
+
+Years passed, and the child, who was called Tharsia, incurred the
+jealousy of Dionysias, because she was fairer than her own child
+Philomatia. Dionysias sought to kill Tharsia, who, at the critical
+moment, was carried away by pirates, and sold into slavery at
+Machylena. There her beauty and goodness protected her, so that none
+who came to her master's evil house would do her wrong. She persuaded
+her owner to let her earn her bread by her accomplishments in music and
+the unravelling of hard sayings. Thus she won the love of the prince of
+that place, Athanagoras, who protected her.
+
+Some time afterwards a strange fleet came to Machylena. Athanagoras,
+struck by the beauty of one of the ships, went on board, and asked to
+see the owner. He found a rugged and melancholy man, who was none other
+than Apollonius. In due time that prince was joyfully reunited with his
+child, who was given in marriage to her perserver. Speedy vengeance
+overtook Tharsia's cruel owner, and later Stranguilio and Dionysias
+suffered for their misdeeds. Being warned by a dream to return to
+Ephesus, Apollonius found his wife in the precinct of the vestals, and,
+together with her, he reigned long and happily over Antioch and Tyre.
+After death he went into everlasting life. To which may God, of His
+infinite mercy, lead us all.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH
+
+The Citizen of the World
+
+  "The Citizen of the World," after appearing in the "Public
+  Ledger" newspaper in 1760-61, was published in two volumes in
+  1762, with the sub-title, "Letters from a Chinese Philosopher,
+  Residing in London, to his Friends in the East." It established
+  Goldsmith's literary reputation (see Vol. IV, p. 275). The
+  author's main purpose was to indulge in a keen, but not
+  ill-natured, satire upon Western, and especially upon English,
+  civilisation; but sometimes the satiric manner yields place to
+  the philosophical.
+
+
+_The Troubles of the Great_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM, FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE CEREMONIAL
+ACADEMY AT PEKIN
+
+The princes of Europe have found out a manner of rewarding their
+subjects who have behaved well, by presenting them with about two
+yards of blue ribbon, which is worn over the shoulder. They who are
+honoured with this mark of distinction are called knights, and the king
+himself is always the head of the order. This is a very frugal method
+of recompensing the most important services, and it is very fortunate
+for kings that their subjects are satisfied with such trifling rewards.
+Should a nobleman happen to lose his leg in battle, the king presents
+him with two yards of ribbon, and he is paid for the loss of his limb.
+Should an ambassador spend all his paternal fortunes in supporting the
+honour of his country abroad, the king presents him with two yards of
+ribbon, which is to be considered as an equivalent to his estate. In
+short, while a European king has a yard of blue or green ribbon left,
+he need be under no apprehension of wanting statesmen, generals, and
+soldiers.
+
+I cannot sufficiently admire those kingdoms in which men with large
+patrimonial estates are willing thus to undergo real hardships for
+empty favours. A person, already possessed of a competent fortune,
+who undertakes to enter the career of ambition feels many real
+inconveniences from his station, while it procures him no real
+happiness that he was not possessed of before. He could eat, drink, and
+sleep before he became a courtier, as well, perhaps better, than when
+invested with his authority.
+
+What real good, then, does an addition to a fortune already sufficient
+procure? Not any. Could the great man, by having his fortune increased,
+increase also his appetite, then precedence might be attended with real
+amusement. But, on the contrary, he finds his desire for pleasure often
+lessen as he takes pains to be able to improve it; and his capacity of
+enjoyment diminishes as his fortune happens to increase.
+
+Instead, therefore, of regarding the great with envy, I generally
+consider them with some share of compassion. I look upon them as a set
+of good-natured, misguided people, who are indebted to us, and not to
+themselves, for all the happiness they enjoy. For our pleasure, and
+not their own, they sweat under a cumbrous heap of finery; for our
+pleasure, the hackneyed train, the slow-parading pageant, with all
+the gravity of grandeur, moves in review; a single coat, or a single
+footman, answers all the purposes of the most indolent refinement as
+well; and those who have twenty may be said to keep one for their own
+pleasure, and the other nineteen for ours. So true is the observation
+of Confucius, "That we take greater pains to persuade others that we
+are happy than in endeavouring to think so ourselves."
+
+But though this desire of being seen, of being made the subject of
+discourse, and of supporting the dignities of an exalted station,
+be troublesome to the ambitious, yet it is well that there are men
+thus willing to exchange ease and safety for danger and a ribbon. We
+lose nothing by their vanity, and it would be unkind to endeavour to
+deprive a child of its rattle.... Adieu.
+
+
+_The Folly of the Recluse_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO HINGPO, HIS SON
+
+Books, my son, while they teach us to respect the interests of others,
+often make us unmindful of our own; while they instruct the youthful
+reader to grasp at social happiness, he grows miserable in detail. I
+dislike, therefore, the philosopher, who describes the inconveniences
+of life in such pleasing colours that the pupil grows enamoured of
+distress, longs to try the charms of poverty, meets it without dread,
+nor fears its inconveniences till he severely feels them.
+
+A youth who has thus spent his life among books, new to the world,
+and unacquainted with man but by philosophic information, may be
+considered as a being whose mind is filled with the vulgar errors of
+the wise. He first has learned from books, and then lays it down as
+a maxim that all mankind are virtuous or vicious in excess; warm,
+therefore, in attachments, and steadfast in enmity, he treats every
+creature as a friend or foe. Upon a closer inspection of human nature
+he perceives that he should have moderated his friendship, and softened
+his severity; he finds no character so sanctified that has not its
+failings, none so infamous but has somewhat to attract our esteem; he
+beholds impiety in lawn, and fidelity in fetters.
+
+He now, therefore, but too late, perceives that his regards should have
+been more cool, and his hatred less violent; that the truly wise seldom
+court romantic friendships with the good, and avoid, if possible, the
+resentment even of the wicked; every movement gives him fresh instances
+that the bonds of friendship are broken if drawn too closely, and that
+those whom he has treated with disrespect more than retaliate the
+injury; at length, therefore, he is obliged to confess that he has
+declared war upon the vicious half of mankind, without being able to
+form an alliance among the virtuous to espouse his quarrel.
+
+Our book-taught philosopher, however, is now too far advanced to
+recede; and though poverty be the just consequence of the many
+enemies his conduct has created, yet he is resolved to meet it
+without shrinking. "Come, then, O Poverty! for what is there in thee
+dreadful to the Wise? Temperance, Health, and Frugality walk in thy
+train; Cheerfulness and Liberty are ever thy companions. Come, then,
+O Poverty, while kings stand by, and gaze with admiration at the true
+philosopher's resignation!"
+
+The goddess appears, for Poverty ever comes at the call; but, alas!
+he finds her by no means the charming figure books and his warm
+imagination had painted. All the fabric of enthusiasm is at once
+demolished, and a thousand miseries rise upon its ruins, while
+Contempt, with pointing finger, is foremost in the hideous procession.
+
+The poor man now finds that he can get no kings to look at him while
+he is eating; he finds that, in proportion as he grows poor, the world
+turns its back upon him, and gives him leave to act the philosopher
+in all the majesty of solitude. Spleen now begins to take up the man;
+not distinguishing in his resentments, he regards all mankind with
+detestation, and commencing man-hater, seeks solitude to be at liberty
+to rail.
+
+It has been said that he who retires to solitude is either a beast
+or an angel. The censure is too severe, and the praise unmerited;
+the discontented being who retires from society is generally some
+good-natured man, who has begun life without experience, and knew not
+how to gain it in his intercourse with mankind. Adieu.
+
+
+_On Mad Dogs_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM
+
+Indulgent Nature seems to have exempted this island from many of those
+epidemic evils which are so fatal in other parts of the world. But
+though the nation be exempt from real evils, think not, my friend, that
+it is more happy on this account than others. They are afflicted, it is
+true, with neither famine nor pestilence, but then there is a disorder
+peculiar to the country, which every season makes strange ravages
+among them; it spreads with pestilential rapidity, and infects almost
+every rank of people; what is still more strange, the natives have no
+name for this peculiar malady, though well enough known to foreign
+physicians by the name of epidemic terror.
+
+A season is never known to pass in which the people are not visited
+by this cruel calamity in one shape or another, seemingly different,
+though ever the same. The people, when once infected, lose their relish
+for happiness, saunter about with looks of despondence, ask after the
+calamities of the day, and receive no comfort but in heightening each
+other's distress. A dread of mad dogs is the epidemic terror which now
+prevails, and the whole nation is at present actually groaning under
+the malignity of its influence.
+
+It is pleasant enough for a neutral being like me, who have no share in
+these ideal calamities, to mark the stages of this national disease.
+The terror at first feebly enters with a little dog that had gone
+through a neighbouring village, that was thought to be mad by several
+who had seen him. The next account comes that a mastiff ran through
+a certain town, and had bit five geese, which immediately ran mad,
+foamed at the bill, and died in great agonies soon after. Then comes an
+affecting history of a little boy bit in the leg, and gone down to be
+dipped in the salt water; when the people have sufficiently shuddered
+at that, they are next congealed with a frightful account of a man who
+was said lately to have died from a bite he had received some years
+before.
+
+My landlady, a good-natured woman, but a little credulous, waked me
+some mornings ago, before the usual hour, with horror and astonishment
+in her looks; she desired me, if I had any regard for my safety, to
+keep within, for a few days ago so dismal an accident had happened as
+to put all the world upon their guard. A mad dog down in the country,
+she assured me, had bit a farmer who, soon becoming mad, ran into his
+own yard, and bit a fine brindled cow; the cow quickly became as mad
+as the man, began to foam at the mouth, and raising herself up, walked
+about on her hind legs, sometimes barking like a dog, and sometimes
+attempting to talk like the farmer.
+
+Were most stories of this nature thoroughly examined, it would be
+found that numbers of such as have been said to suffer were in no way
+injured; and that of those who have been actually bitten, not one in a
+hundred was bit by a mad dog. Such accounts in general, therefore, only
+serve to make the people miserable by false terrors.
+
+Of all the beasts that graze the lawn or hunt the forest, a dog is
+the only animal that, leaving his fellows, attempts to cultivate the
+friendship of man; no injuries can abate his fidelity; no distress
+induce him to forsake his benefactor; studious to please and fearing to
+offend, he is still an humble, steadfast dependent, and in him alone
+fawning is not flattery. How unkind, then, to torture this faithful
+creature who has left the forest to claim the protection of man! How
+ungrateful a return to the trusty animal for all his services! Adieu.
+
+
+_On Elections_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM
+
+The English are at present employed in celebrating a feast, which
+becomes general every seventh year: the parliament of the nation being
+then dissolved, and another appointed to be chosen. This solemnity
+falls infinitely short of our Feast of the Lanterns in magnificence and
+splendour; it is also surpassed by others of the East in unanimity and
+pure devotion; but no festival in the world can compare with it for
+eating.
+
+To say the truth, eating seems to make a grand ingredient in all
+English parties of zeal, business, or amusement. When a church is to be
+built, or an hospital endowed, the directors assemble, and instead of
+consulting upon it, they eat upon it, by which means the business goes
+forward with success. When the poor are to be relieved, the officers
+appointed to dole out public charity assemble and eat upon it. Nor has
+it ever been known that they filled the bellies of the poor till they
+had satisfied their own. But in the election of magistrates the people
+seem to exceed all bounds.
+
+What amazes me is that all this good living no way contributes to
+improve their good humour. On the contrary, they seem to lose their
+temper as they lose their appetites; every morsel they swallow, and
+every glass they pour down, serves to increase their animosity.
+Upon one of these occasions I have actually seen a bloody-minded
+man-milliner sally forth at the head of a mob, to face a desperate
+pastrycook, who was general of the opposite party.
+
+I lately made an excursion to a neighbouring village, in order to be
+a spectator of the ceremonies practised. Mixing with the crowd, I was
+conducted to the hall where the magistrates are chosen; but what tongue
+can describe this scene of confusion! The whole crowd seemed equally
+inspired with anger, jealousy, politics, patriotism, and punch. I
+remarked one figure that was carried up by two men upon this occasion.
+I at first began to pity his infirmities as natural, but soon found the
+fellow so drunk that he could not stand; another made his appearance
+to give his vote, but though he could stand, he actually lost the use
+of his tongue, and remained silent; a third, who, though excessively
+drunk, could both stand and speak, being asked the candidate's name
+for whom he voted, could be prevailed upon to make no other answer but
+"Tobacco and brandy!" In short, an election-hall seems to be a theatre,
+where every passion is seen without disguise; a school where fools may
+readily become worse, and where philosophers may gather wisdom. Adieu.
+
+
+_Opinions and Anecdotes_
+
+The most ignorant nations have always been found to think most highly
+of themselves.
+
+It may sound fine in the mouth of a declaimer, when he talks of
+subduing our appetites, of teaching every sense to be content with
+a bare sufficiency, and of supplying only the wants of nature; but
+is there not more satisfaction in indulging these appetites, if with
+innocence and safety, than in restraining them? Am I not better pleased
+in enjoyment, than in the sullen satisfaction of thinking that I can
+live without enjoyment?
+
+When five brethren had set upon the great Emperor Guisong, alone
+with his sabre he slew four of them; he was struggling with the
+fifth, when his guards, coming up, were going to cut the conspirator
+into a thousand pieces. "No, no!" cried the emperor, with a placid
+countenance. "Of all his brothers he is the only one remaining; at
+least let one of the family be suffered to live, that his aged parents
+may have somebody left to feed and comfort them."
+
+It was a fine saying of Nangfu the emperor, who, being told that his
+enemies had raised an insurrection in one of the distant provinces,
+said: "Come, then, my friends, follow me, and I promise you that
+we shall quickly destroy them." He marched forward, and the rebels
+submitted upon his approach. All now thought that he would take the
+most signal revenge, but were surprised to see the captives treated
+with mildness and humanity. "How!" cries his first minister, "is this
+the manner in which you fulfil your promise? Your royal word was given
+that your enemies should be destroyed, and behold, you have pardoned
+all, and even caressed some!" "I promised," replied the emperor, with a
+generous air, "to destroy my _enemies_; I have fulfilled my word, for
+see, they are enemies no longer; I have made _friends_ of them."
+
+Well it were if rewards and mercy alone could regulate the
+commonwealth; but since punishments are sometimes necessary, let them
+at least be rendered terrible, by being executed but seldom; and let
+justice lift her sword rather to terrify than revenge.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY HALLAM
+
+Introduction to the Literature of Europe
+
+  The full volume of this work, "Introduction to the Literature of
+  Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries,"
+  was published about 1837, and is a vast accumulation of facts,
+  but is lacking in organic unity, in vigour, and vitality.
+  Hallam's spelling of proper names has been followed throughout
+  this epitome. (Henry Hallam, biography; see Vol. XI, p. 255.)
+
+
+_I.--Before the Fifteenth Century_
+
+The establishment of the barbarian nations on the ruins of the Roman
+Empire in the West was followed by an almost universal loss of
+classical learning. The last of the ancients, and one who forms a link
+with the Middle Ages, is Boëthius, whose "Consolation of Philosophy"
+mingles a Christian sanctity with the lessons of Greek and Roman sages.
+But after his death, in 524, the downfall of learning and eloquence was
+inconceivably rapid, and a state of general ignorance, except here and
+there within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, lasted for five centuries.
+
+The British islands led the way in the slow restoration of knowledge.
+The Irish monasteries, in the seventh century, were the first to send
+out men of comparative eminence, and the Venerable Bede, in the eighth
+century, was probably superior to any other man whom the world at that
+time possessed. Then came the days when Charlemagne laid in his vast
+dominions the foundations of learning.
+
+In the tenth century, when England and Italy alike were in the most
+deplorable darkness, France enjoyed an age of illumination, and a
+generation or two later we find many learned and virtuous churchmen
+in Germany. But it is not until the twelfth century that we enter
+on a new epoch in European literary history, when universities were
+founded, modern languages were cultivated, the study of Roman law was
+systematically taken up, and a return was made to a purer Latinity.
+
+Next, we observe the rise of the scholastic theology and philosophy,
+with their strenuous attempt at an alliance between faith and
+reason. The dry and technical style of these enquiries, their minute
+subdivisions of questions, and their imposing parade of accuracy,
+served indeed to stimulate subtlety of mind, but also hindered the
+revival of polite literature and the free expansion of the intellect.
+
+Dante and Petrarch are the morning stars of the modern age. They lie
+outside our period, and we must pass them over with a word. It is
+sufficient to notice that, largely by their influence, we find, in
+the year 1400, a national literature existing in no less than seven
+European languages--three in the Spanish peninsula, the French, the
+Italian, the German, and the English.
+
+
+_II.--The Fifteenth Century_
+
+We now come to a very important event--the resuscitation of the study
+of Greek in Italy. In 1423, Giovanni Aurispa, of Sicily, brought
+over two hundred manuscripts from Greece, including Plato, Plotinus,
+Diodorus, Pindar, and many other classics. Manuel Chrysoloras, teacher
+of Greek in Florence, had trained a school of Hellenists; and copyists,
+translators, and commentators set to work upon the masterpieces of
+the ancient world. We have good reason to doubt whether, without the
+Italians of those times, the revival of classical learning would ever
+have occurred. The movement was powerfully aided by Nicolas V., pope
+in 1447, who founded the Vatican library, supported scholars, and
+encouraged authors.
+
+Soon after 1450, the art of printing began to be applied to the
+purposes of useful learning, and Bibles, classical texts, collections
+of fables; and other works were rapidly given to the world. The
+accession to power of Lorenzo de Medici in 1464 marks the revival of
+native Italian genius in poetry, and under his influence the Platonic
+academy, founded by his grandfather Cosmo, promoted a variety of
+studies. But we still look in vain to England for either learning or
+native genius. The reign of Edward IV. is one of the lowest points in
+our literary annals.
+
+In France, the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," 1486, and the poems of
+Villon, 1489, show a marked advance in style. Many French "mysteries,"
+or religious dramas, belong to this period, and this early form of the
+dramatic art had also much popularity in Germany and in Italy. Literary
+activity, in France and in Germany, had become regularly progressive by
+the end of the century.
+
+Two men, Erasmus and Budæus, were now devoting incessant labour, in
+Paris, to the study of Greek; and a gleam of light broke out even in
+England, where William Grocyn began, in 1491, to teach that language in
+Oxford. On his visit to England, in 1497, Erasmus was delighted with
+everything he found, and gave unbounded praise to the scholarship of
+Grocyn, Colet, Linacre, and the young Thomas More.
+
+The fifteenth century was a period of awakening and of strenuous
+effort. But if we ask what monuments of its genius and erudition still
+receive homage, we can give no very triumphant answer. Of the books
+then written, how few are read now!
+
+
+_III.--The Sixteenth Century (1500-1550)_
+
+In the early years of this century the press of Aldus Manutius, who had
+settled in Venice in 1489, was publishing many texts of the classics,
+Greek as well as Latin.
+
+It was at this time that the regular drama was first introduced into
+Europe. "Calandra," the earliest modern comedy, was presented at
+Venice in 1508, and about the same time the Spanish tragi-comedy of
+"Calisto and Melibœa" was printed. The pastoral romance, also, made
+its appearance in Portugal; and the "Arcadia," 1502, by the Italian
+Sannazaro, a work of this class, did much to restore the correctness
+and elegance of Italian prose. Peter Bembo's "Asolani," 1505, a
+dialogue on love, has also been thought to mark an epoch in Italian
+literature. At the same time, William Dunbar, with his "Thistle and
+Rose," 1503, and his allegorical "Golden Targe," was leading the van of
+British poetry.
+
+The records of voyages of discovery begin to take a prominent place.
+The old travels of Marco Polo, as well as those of Sir John Mandeville,
+and the "Cosmography" of Ptolemy, had been printed in the previous
+century; but the stupendous discoveries of the close of that age now
+fell to be told. The voyages of Cadamosto, a Venetian, in Western
+Africa, appeared in 1507; and those of Amerigo Vespucci, entitled
+"Mondo Nuovo," in the same year. An epistle of Columbus himself had
+been printed in Germany about 1493.
+
+Leo X., who became pope in 1513, placed men of letters in the most
+honourable stations of his court, and was the munificent patron of
+poets, scholars, and printers. Rucellai's "Rosmunda," a tragedy played
+before Leo in 1515, was the earliest known trial of blank verse. The
+"Sophonisba" of Trissino, published in 1524, a play written strictly
+on the Greek model, had been acted some years before. Two comedies by
+Ariosto were presented about 1512.
+
+Meanwhile, the printing press became very active in Paris, Basle,
+and Germany, chiefly in preparing works for the use of students in
+universities. But in respect of learning, we have the testimony of
+Erasmus that neither France, nor Germany, stood so high as England. In
+Scotland, boys were being taught Latin in school; and the translation
+of the Æneid by Gawin Douglas, completed about 1513, shows, by its
+spirit and fidelity, the degree of scholarship in the north. The only
+work of real genius which England can claim in this age is the "Utopia"
+of Sir Thomas More, first printed in 1516.
+
+Erasmus diffuses a lustre over his age, which no other name among the
+learned supplies. About 1517, he published an enlarged edition of his
+"Adages," which displays a surprising intimacy with Greek and Roman
+literature. The most remarkable of them, in every sense, are those
+which reflect with excessive bitterness on kings and priests. Erasmus
+knew that the regular clergy were not to be conciliated, and resolved
+to throw away the scabbard; and his invectives against kings proceeded
+from a just sense of the oppression of Europe in that age by ambitious
+and selfish rulers.
+
+We are now brought by necessary steps to the great religious revolution
+known as the Reformation, with which we are only concerned in so far
+as it modified the history of literature. In all his dispute, Luther
+was sustained by a prodigious force of popular opinion; and the German
+nation was so fully awakened to the abuses of the Church that, if
+neither Luther nor Zwingli had ever been born, a great religious schism
+was still at hand. Erasmus, who had so manifestly prepared the way for
+the new reformers, continued, beyond the year 1520, favourable to their
+cause. But some of Luther's tenets he did not and could not approve;
+and he was already disgusted by that intemperance of language which
+soon led him to secede entirely from the Protestant side.
+
+The laws of synchronism bring strange partners together, and we
+may pass at once from Luther to Ariosto, whose "Orlando Furioso"
+was printed at Ferrara in 1516. Ariosto has been, after Homer, the
+favourite poet of Europe. His grace and facility, his clear and rapid
+stream of language, his variety of invention, left him no rival.
+
+No edition of "Amadis de Gaul" has been proved to exist before that
+printed at Seville in 1519. This famous romance was translated into
+French between 1540 and 1557, and into English by Munday in 1619.
+
+A curious dramatic performance was represented in Paris in 1511, and
+published in 1516. It is entitled "Le Prince des Sots et la Mère
+sotte," by Peter Gringore; its chief aim was to ridicule the Pope and
+the court of Rome. Hans Sachs, a shoemaker of Nuremberg, produced his
+first carnival play in 1517. The English poets Hawes and Skelton fall
+within this period.
+
+From 1520 to 1550, Italy, where the literature of antiquity had been
+first cultivated, still retained her superiority in the fine perception
+of its beauties, but the study was proceeding also elsewhere in Europe.
+Few books of that age give us more insight into its literary history
+and the public taste than the "Circeronianus" of Erasmus, against which
+Scaliger wrote with unmannerly invective. The same period of thirty
+years is rich with poets, among whom are the Spanish Mendoza, the
+Portuguese Ribero, Marot in France, many hymn-writers in Germany; and
+in England, Wyatt and Surrey. At this time also, Spain was forming its
+national theatre, chiefly under the influence of Lope de Rueda and of
+Torres Naharro, the inventor of Spanish comedy. The most celebrated
+writer of fiction in this age is Rabelais, than whom few have greater
+fertility of language and imagination.
+
+
+_IV.--The Sixteenth Century (1550-1600)_
+
+Montaigne's "Essays," which first appeared at Bordeaux in 1580, make
+an epoch in literature, being the first appeal from the academy to the
+haunts of busy and idle men; and this delightful writer had a vast
+influence on English and French literature in the succeeding age.
+
+Turning now to the Italian poets of our period, we find that most of
+them are feeble copyists of Petrarch, whose style Bembo had rendered so
+popular. Casa, Costanzo, Baldi, Celio Magno, Bernardino Rota, Gaspara
+Stampa, Bernado Tasso, father of the great Tasso, Peter Aretin, and
+Firenzuola, flourished at this time. The "Jerusalem" of Torquato Tasso
+is the great epic of modern times; it is read with pleasure in almost
+every canto, though the native melancholy of Tasso tinges all his poem.
+It was no sooner published than it was weighed against the "Orlando
+Furioso," and Europe has not yet agreed which scale inclines.
+
+Spanish poetry is adorned by Luis Ponce de Leon, born in 1527, a
+religious and mystical lyric poet. The odes of Herrera have a lyric
+elevation and richness of phrase, derived from the study of Pindar
+and of the Old Testament. Castillejo, playful and witty, attempted to
+revive the popular poetry, and ridiculed the imitators of Petrarch.
+
+The great Camoens had now arisen in Portugal; his "Lusiad," written
+in praise of the Lusitanian people, is the mirror of his loving,
+courageous, generous, and patriotic heart. Camoens is the chief
+Portuguese poet in this age, and possibly in every other.
+
+This was an age of verse in France. Pierre Ronsard, Amadis Jamyn his
+pupil, Du Bartas, Pibrac, Desportes, and many others, were gradually
+establishing the rules of metre, and the Alexandrine was displacing the
+old verse of ten syllables.
+
+Of German poetry there is little to say; but England had Lord Vaux's
+short pieces in "The Paradise of Dainty Devices"; Sackville, with his
+"Induction" to the "Mirrour of Magistrates," 1559; George Gascoyne,
+whose "Steel Glass," 1576, is the earliest English satire; and, above
+all, Spenser, whose "Shepherd's Kalendar" appeared in 1579. This work
+was far more natural and more pleasing than the other pastorals of
+the age. Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," and his "Rape of Lucrece,"
+were published in 1593-94. Sir Philip Sidney, Raleigh, Lodge, Breton,
+Marlowe, Green, Watson, Davison, Daniel, and Michael Drayton were now
+writing poems, and Drake has a list of more than two hundred English
+poets of this time.
+
+The great work of the period is, however, the "Faëry Queen," the first
+three books of which were published in 1590, and the last three in
+1596. Spenser excels Ariosto in originality, force, and variety of
+character, and in depth of reflection, but especially in the poetical
+cast of feeling.
+
+Of dramatic literature, between 1550 and 1600, we have many Italian
+plays by Groto, Decio da Orto, and Tasso. The pastoral drama
+originating with Agostino Beccari in 1554, reached its highest
+perfection in Tasso's "Aminta," which was followed by Guarini's "Pastor
+Fido."
+
+Lope de Vega is the great Spanish dramatist of this time. His
+astonishing facility produced over two thousand original dramas,
+of which three hundred have been preserved. Jodelle, the father of
+the French theatre, presented his "Cléopatre" in 1552. In 1598 the
+foundations were laid of the Comédie Française.
+
+In England, Sackville led the way with his tragedy of "Gorboduc,"
+played at Whitehall before Elizabeth in 1562. In 1576, the first
+public theatre was erected in Blackfriars. Several young men of talent
+appeared, Marlowe, Peele, Greene, Kyd, and Nash, as the precursors
+of Shakespeare; and in 1587, being then twenty-three years old, the
+greatest of dramatists settled in London, and several of his plays had
+been acted before the close of the century.
+
+Among English prose writings of this time may be mentioned Ascham's
+"Schoolmaster," 1570, Puttenham's "Art of English Poesie," 1586, and,
+as a curiosity of affectation, Lilly's "Euphues." But the first good
+prose-writer is Sir Philip Sidney, whose "Arcadia" appeared in 1590;
+and the finest master of prose in the Elizabethan period is Hooker. The
+first book of the "Ecclesiastical Polity" is one of the masterpieces of
+English eloquence.
+
+
+_V.--The Seventeenth Century (1600-1650)_
+
+The two great figures in philosophy of this period are Bacon and
+Descartes. At its beginning the higher philosophy had been little
+benefited by the labours of any modern enquirer. It was become, indeed,
+no strange thing to question the authority of Aristotle, but his
+disciples could point with scorn at the endeavours made to supplant it.
+
+In the great field of natural jurisprudence, the most eminent name
+in this period is that of Hugo Grotius, whose famous work "De Jure
+Belli et Pacis" was published in Paris in 1625. This treatise made an
+epoch in the philosophical, and, we might almost say, in the political
+history of Europe.
+
+In the history of poetry, between 1600 and 1650, we have the Italians
+Marini, Tassoni, and Chiabrera, the last being the founder of a school
+of lyric poetry known as "Pindaric." Among Spanish poets are Villegas
+and Gongora; in France, Malherbe, Regnier, Racan, Maynard, Voiture,
+and Sarrazin; Opitz, in Germany, was the founder of German poetic
+literature; and this, the golden age of Dutch literature, included the
+poets Spiegel, Hooft, Cats, and Vondel. The English poets of these
+fifty years are very numerous, but for the most part not well known.
+Spenser was imitated by Phineas and Giles Fletcher. Sir John Denham,
+Donne, Crashaw, Cowley, Daniel, Michael Drayton, William Browne, and
+Sir William Davenant wrote at this time, to which also belong the
+sonnets of Shakespeare. Drummond of Hawthornden, Carew, Ben Jonson,
+Wither, Habington, Suckling, and Herrick, were all in the first half
+of the seventeenth century. John Milton was born in 1609, and in 1634
+wrote "Comus," which was published in 1637; "Lycidas," the "Allegro"
+and "Penseroso," the "Ode on the Nativity," and Milton's sonnets
+followed.
+
+The Italian drama was weak at this period, but in Spain Lope de Vega
+and Calderon were at the height of their glory. In France, Corneille's
+"Mélite," his first play, was produced in 1629, and was followed by
+"Clitandre," "La Veuve," "Medea," "Cid," and others. The English
+drama was exceedingly popular, and the reigns of James and Charles
+were the glory of our theatre. Shakespeare--the greatest name in all
+literature--Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Shirley,
+Heywood, Webster, and many other dramatists contributed to its fame.
+
+In prose writings, Italian and Spanish works of this time show a great
+decline in taste; but in France, the letters of the moralist Balzac and
+of Voiture, from 1625, have ingenuity and sprightliness. English prose
+writings of the period include the works of Knolles, Raleigh, Daniel,
+Bacon, Milton, Clarendon; Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy," Earle's
+"Microcosmographia" and Overbury's "Characters."
+
+Fiction was represented by "Don Quixote," of which the first part was
+published in 1605--almost the only Spanish book which is popularly read
+in every country; by the French heroic romance, and by the English
+Godwin's "Man in the Moon."
+
+
+_VI.--The Seventeenth Century (1650-1700)_
+
+Among the greatest writers of this period are Bossuet and Pascal, in
+theology; Gassendi, Malebranche, Spinoza, and Locke, in philosophy; and
+Cumberland, Puffendorf, La Rochefoucauld, and La Bruyère, in morals.
+Leibnitz wrote on jurisprudence before he passed on to philosophy, and
+the same subject was treated also by Godefroy, Domat, and Noodt.
+
+Italian poetry had now improved in tone. Filicaja, a man of serious
+and noble spirit, wrote odes of deep patriotic and religious feeling.
+Guidi, a native of Pavia, raised himself to the highest point that any
+lyric poet of Italy has attained. Spain and Portugal were destitute
+of poets; but in France La Fontaine, Boileau, Benserade, Chaulieu,
+Segrais, Deshoulières, and Fontenelle, were famous. In England at this
+time there were Waller, Milton, Butler, and Dryden, as well as Marvell
+and other minor poets.
+
+Neither Italy nor Spain was now producing dramatic works of any
+importance, but it was very different in France. Corneille continued
+to write for the stage, and Racine's first play, the "Andromaque," was
+presented in 1667. This was followed by "Britannicus," "Bérénice,"
+"Mithridate," "Iphigénie," and others. Racine's style is exquisite; he
+is second only to Virgil among all poets. Molière, the French writer
+whom his country has most uniformly admired, began with "L'Étourdi" in
+1653, and his pieces followed rapidly until his death, in 1673. The
+English Restoration stage was held by Dryden, Otway, Southern, Lee,
+Congreve, Wycherley, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh.
+
+In prose literature Italy is deficient; but this period includes the
+most distinguished portion of the great age in France, the reign of
+Louis XIV. Bossuet, Malebranche, Arnauld, and Pascal are among the
+greatest of French writers.
+
+English writing now became easier and more idiomatic, sometimes even to
+the point of vulgarity. The best masters of prose were Cowley, Evelyn,
+Dryden, and Walton in the "Complete Angler."
+
+Among novels of the period may be named those of Quevedo in Spain;
+of Scarron, Bergerac, Perrault, and Hamilton, in France; and the
+"Pilgrim's Progress"--for John Bunyan may pass for the father of our
+novelists--in England. Swift's "Tale of a Tub," than which Rabelais has
+nothing superior, was indeed not published till 1704, but was written
+within the seventeenth century.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM HAZLITT
+
+Lectures on the English Poets
+
+  William Hazlitt, critic and essayist, was born on April 10,
+  1778, and was educated in London for the Unitarian ministry. But
+  his talents for painting and for writing diverted him from that
+  career, and soon, though he showed great promise as a painter,
+  he devoted himself to authorship, contributing largely to the
+  "Morning Chronicle," the "Examiner," and the "Edinburgh Review."
+  His wide, genial interests, his ardent temperament, and his
+  admirable style, have given Hazlitt a high place among English
+  critics. He is no pedant or bookworm; he is always human, always
+  a man of the world. His "Characters of Shakespeare's Plays,"
+  1817, gave him a reputation which was confirmed by his "Lectures
+  on the English Poets," delivered next year at the Surrey
+  Institute. Further lectures, on the English comic writers and on
+  the Elizabethan dramatists, followed. His essays, on all kinds
+  of subjects, are collected in volumes under various titles. All
+  are the best of reading. Hazlitt's later works include "Liber
+  Amoris," 1823; "Spirit of the Age," 1825, consisting of character
+  studies; and the "Life of Napoleon" (Hazlitt's hero), 1828-30.
+  The essayist was twice married, and died on September 18, 1830.
+
+
+_What Is Poetry?_
+
+The best general notion which I can give of poetry is that it is the
+natural impression of any object or event by its vividness exciting
+an involuntary movement of imagination and passion, and producing,
+by sympathy, a certain modulation of the voice or sounds expressing
+it. Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds with
+Nature and itself. He who has a contempt for poetry cannot have much
+respect for himself or for anything else. It is not a mere frivolous
+accomplishment; it has been the study and delight of mankind in all
+ages.
+
+Nor is it found only in books; wherever there is a sense of beauty,
+or power, or harmony, as in a wave of the sea, or in the growth of a
+flower, there is poetry in its birth. It is not a branch of authorship;
+it is the "stuff of which our life is made." The rest is "mere
+oblivion," for all that is worth remembering in life is the poetry of
+it. If poetry is a dream, the business of life is much the same. If it
+is a fiction, made up of what we wish things to be, and fancy that they
+are because we wish them so, there is no other or better reality.
+
+The light of poetry is not only a direct, but also a reflected light,
+that, while it shows us the object, throws a sparkling radiance on all
+around it; the flame of the passions communicated to the imagination
+reveals to us, as with a flash of lightning, the inmost recesses of
+thought, and penetrates our whole being. Poetry represents forms
+chiefly as they suggest other forms; feelings, as they suggest forms,
+or other feelings. Poetry puts a spirit of life and motion into the
+universe. It describes the flowing, not the fixed. The poetical
+impression of any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or
+power that cannot be contained within itself, that is impatient of all
+limit; that--as flame bends to flame--strives to link itself to some
+other image of kindred beauty or grandeur, to enshrine itself, as it
+were, in the highest forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense
+of pleasure by expressing it in the boldest manner, and by the most
+striking examples of the same quality in other instances.
+
+As in describing natural objects poetry impregnates sensible
+impressions with the forms of fancy, so it describes the feelings of
+pleasure or pain by blending them with the strongest movements of
+passion and the most striking forms of Nature. Tragic poetry, which is
+the most impassioned species of it, strives to carry on the feeling to
+the utmost point of sublimity or pathos by all the force of comparison
+or contrast, loses the sense of present suffering in the imaginary
+exaggeration of it, exhausts the terror or pity by an unlimited
+indulgence of it, and lifts us from the depths of woe to the highest
+contemplations of human life.
+
+The use and end of poetry, "both at the first and now, was and is to
+hold the mirror up to Nature," seen through the medium of passion and
+imagination, not divested of that medium by means of literal truth or
+abstract reason. Those who would dispel the illusions of imagination,
+to give us their drab-coloured creation in their stead, are not very
+wise. It cannot be concealed, however, that the progress of knowledge
+and refinement has a tendency to clip the wings of poetry. The province
+of the imagination is principally visionary, the unknown and undefined;
+we can only fancy what we do not know. There can never be another
+Jacob's dream. Since that time the heavens have gone farther off, and
+grown astronomical.
+
+Poetry combines the ordinary use of language with musical expression.
+As there are certain sounds that excite certain movements, and the song
+and dance go together, so there are, no doubt, certain thoughts that
+lead to certain tones of voice, or modulations of sound. The jerks, the
+breaks, the inequalities and harshnesses of prose are fatal to the flow
+of a poetical imagination, as a jolting road disturbs the reverie of an
+absent-minded man. But poetry makes these odds all even. The musical in
+sound is the sustained and continuous; the musical in thought is the
+sustained and continuous also. An excuse may be made for rhyme in the
+same manner.
+
+
+_Chaucer and Spenser_
+
+These are two out of the four greatest English poets; but they were
+both much indebted to the early poets of Italy, and may be considered
+as belonging, in some degree, to that school. Spenser delighted in
+luxurious enjoyment; Chaucer in severe activity of mind. Spenser was
+the most romantic and visionary of all great poets; Chaucer the most
+practical, the most a man of business and the world.
+
+Chaucer does not affect to show his power over the reader's mind, but
+the power which his subject has over his own. The readers of Chaucer's
+poetry feel more nearly what the persons he describes must have felt,
+than perhaps those of any other poet. There is no artificial, pompous
+display; but a strict parsimony of the poet's materials, like the
+rude simplicity of the age in which he lived. His words point as an
+index to the objects, like the eye or finger. There were none of the
+commonplaces of poetic diction in his time, no reflected lights of
+fancy, no borrowed roseate tints; he was obliged to inspect things
+narrowly for himself, so that his descriptions produce the effect of
+sculpture.
+
+His descriptions of natural scenery possess a characteristic excellence
+which may be termed gusto. They have a local truth and freshness which
+give the very feeling of the air, the coolness or moisture of the
+ground. Inanimate objects are thus made to have a fellow-feeling in the
+interest of the story, and render the sentiment of the speaker's mind.
+
+It was the same trust in Nature and reliance on his subject which
+enabled Chaucer to describe the grief and patience of Griselda and the
+faith of Constance. Chaucer has more of this deep, internal, sustained
+sentiment than any other writer, except Boccaccio. In depth of simple
+pathos and intensity of conception, never swerving from his subject, I
+think no other writer comes near him, not even the Greek tragedians.
+
+The poetry of Chaucer has a religious sanctity about it, connected
+with the manners and superstitions of the age. It has all the spirit
+of martyrdom. It has also all the extravagance and the utmost
+licentiousness of comic humour, equally arising out of the manners of
+the time. He excelled in both styles, and could pass at will from the
+one to the other; but he never confounded the two styles together.
+
+Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical. There is an
+originality, richness, and variety in his allegorical personages and
+fictions which almost vie with the splendours of the ancient mythology.
+His poetry is all fairyland; he paints Nature not as we find it, but
+as we expected to find it, and fulfils the delightful promise of our
+youth. His ideas, indeed, seem more distinct than his perceptions. The
+love of beauty, however, and not of truth, is the moving principle of
+his mind; and he is guided in his fantastic delineations by no rule but
+the impulse of an inexhaustible imagination.
+
+Some people will say that Spenser's poetry may be very fine, but that
+they cannot understand it, on account of the allegory. They are afraid
+of the allegory. This is very idle. If they do not meddle with the
+allegory, the allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it at
+all, the whole is as plain as a pikestaff.
+
+Spenser is the poet of our waking dreams, and he has invented not
+only a language, but a music of his own for them. The undulations are
+infinite, like those of the waves of the sea; but the effect is still
+the same, lulling the senses into a deep oblivion of the jarring noises
+of the world, from which we have no wish ever to be recalled.
+
+
+_Shakespeare and Milton_
+
+Those arts which depend on individual genius and incommunicable power
+have always leaped at once from infancy to manhood, from the first
+rude dawn of invention to their meridian height and dazzling lustre,
+and have in general declined ever after. Homer, Chaucer, Spenser,
+Shakespeare, Dante, and Ariosto--Milton alone was of a later age, and
+not the worse for it--Raphael, Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio,
+Cervantes, and Boccaccio, the Greek sculptors and tragedians, all lived
+near the beginning of their arts, perfected, and all but created them.
+They rose by clusters, never so to rise again.
+
+The four greatest names in English poetry are almost the four first we
+come to--Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton. There are no others
+that can really be put into competition with these. Of these four,
+Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life; Spenser as the
+poet of romance; Shakespeare as the poet of Nature, in the largest use
+of the term; and Milton as the poet of morality. Chaucer describes
+things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be; Shakespeare, as
+they would be; and Milton, as they ought to be. The characteristic of
+Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser, remoteness; of Milton, elevation; of
+Shakespeare, everything.
+
+The peculiarity of Shakespeare's mind was its generic quality; its
+power of communication with all other minds, so that it contained a
+universe of thought and feeling within itself. He was just like any
+other man, but he was like all other men. He was the least of an
+egotist that it was possible to be. He was nothing in himself; but he
+was all that others were, or that they could become. His genius shone
+equally on the evil and on the good, on the wise and the foolish, the
+monarch and the beggar. The world of spirits lay open to him, like
+the world of real men and women; and there is the same truth in his
+delineations of the one as of the other. Each of his characters is as
+much itself, and as absolutely independent of the rest, as well as
+of the author, as if they were living persons, not fictions of the
+mind. His plays alone are properly expressions of the passions, not
+descriptions of them.
+
+Chaucer's characters are narrative; Shakespeare's, dramatic; Milton's,
+epic. In Chaucer we perceive a fixed essence of character. In
+Shakespeare there is a continual composition and decomposition of
+its elements, a fermentation of every particle in the whole mass, by
+its alternate affinity or antipathy to other principles which are
+brought in contact with it. Milton took only a few simple principles of
+character, and raised them to the utmost conceivable grandeur.
+
+The passion in Shakespeare is full of dramatic fluctuation. In Chaucer
+it is like the course of a river--strong, full, and increasing; but
+in Shakespeare it is like the sea, agitated this way and that, and
+loud-lashed by furious storms. Milton, on the other hand, takes only
+the imaginative part of passion, that which remains after the event,
+and abstracts it from the world of action to that of contemplation.
+
+The great fault of a modern school of poetry [the Lake poets] is that
+it would reduce poetry to a mere effusion of natural sensibility; or,
+what is worse, would divest it both of imaginary splendour and human
+passion, to surround the meanest objects with the morbid feelings and
+devouring egotism of the writers' own minds. Milton and Shakespeare did
+not so understand poetry. They gave a more liberal interpretation both
+to Nature and art. They did not do all they could to get rid of the one
+and the other, to fill up the dreary void with the moods of their own
+minds.
+
+Shakespeare's imagination is of the same plastic kind as his conception
+of character or passion. Its movement is rapid and devious, and unites
+the most opposite extremes. He seems always hurrying from his subject,
+even while describing it; but the stroke, like the lightning's, is
+as sure as it is sudden. His language and versification are like the
+rest of him. He has a magic power over words; they come winged at his
+bidding, and seem to know their places. His language is hieroglyphical.
+It translates thoughts into visible images. He had an equal genius for
+comedy and tragedy; and his tragedies are better than his comedies,
+because tragedy is better than comedy. His female characters are the
+finest in the world. Lastly, Shakespeare was the least of a coxcomb of
+anyone that ever lived, and much of a gentleman.
+
+Shakespeare discovers in his writings little religious enthusiasm, and
+an indifference to personal reputation; in these respects, as in every
+other, he formed a direct contrast to Milton. Milton's works are a
+perpetual invocation to the muses, a hymn to Fame. He had his thoughts
+constantly fixed on the contemplation of the Hebrew theocracy, and of a
+perfect commonwealth; and he seized the pen with a hand warm from the
+touch of the ark of faith. The spirit of the poet, the patriot, and the
+prophet vied with each other in his breast. He thought of nobler forms
+and nobler things than those he found about him. He strives hard to say
+the finest things in the world, and he does say them. In Milton there
+is always an appearance of effort; in Shakespeare, scarcely any.
+
+Milton has borrowed more than any other writer, and exhausted every
+source of imitation; yet he is perfectly distinct from every other
+writer. The power of his mind is stamped on every line. He describes
+objects of which he could only have read in books with the vividness of
+actual observation.
+
+Milton's blank verse is the only blank verse in the language, except
+Shakespeare's, that deserves the name of verse. The sound of his lines
+is moulded into the expression of the sentiment, almost of the very
+image.
+
+
+_Dryden and Pope_
+
+These are the great masters of the artificial style of poetry, as the
+four poets of whom I have already treated were of the natural, and they
+have produced a kind and degree of excellence which existed equally
+nowhere else.
+
+Pope was a man of exquisite faculties and of the most refined taste;
+he was a wit and critic, a man of sense, of observation, and the
+world. He was the poet not of Nature, but of art. He saw Nature only
+dressed by art; he judged of beauty by fashion; he sought for truth
+in the opinions of the world; he judged of the feelings of others by
+his own. His muse never wandered with safety but from his library to
+his grotto, or from his grotto into his library back again. That which
+was the nearest to him was the greatest; the fashion of the day bore
+sway in his mind over the immutable laws of Nature. He had none of the
+enthusiasm of poetry; he was in poetry what the sceptic is in religion.
+Yet within this narrow circle how much, and that how exquisite, was
+contained! The wrong end of the magnifier is held to everything, but
+still the exhibition is highly curious. If I had to choose, there are
+one or two persons--and but one or two--that I should like to have been
+better than Pope!
+
+Dryden was a bolder and more various versifier than Pope; he had
+greater strength of mind, but he had not the same delicacy of feeling.
+Pope describes the thing, and goes on describing his own descriptions,
+till he loses himself in verbal repetitions; Dryden recurs to the
+object often, and gives us new strokes of character as well as of his
+pencil.
+
+
+_Thomson and Cowper_
+
+Thomson is the best of our descriptive poets; the colours with which
+he paints still seem wet. Nature in his descriptions is seen growing
+around us, fresh and lusty as in itself. He puts his heart into his
+subject, and it is for this reason that he is the most popular of all
+our poets. But his verse is heavy and monotonous; it seems always
+labouring uphill.
+
+Cowper had some advantages over Thomson, particularly in simplicity
+of style, in a certain precision of graphical description, and in a
+more careful choice of topics. But there is an effeminacy about him
+which shrinks from and repels common and hearty sympathy. He shakes
+hands with Nature with a pair of fashionable gloves on; he is delicate
+to fastidiousness, and glad to get back to the drawing-room and the
+ladies, the sofa, and the tea-urn. He was a nervous man; but to be a
+coward is not the way to succeed either in poetry, in war, or in love.
+Still, he is a genuine poet, and deserves his reputation.
+
+
+_Robert Burns_
+
+Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius; but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. He was as much of a man, not a twentieth part as much of a
+poet, as Shakespeare. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel--no more.
+His pictures of good fellowship, of social glee, of quaint humour, are
+equal to anything; they come up to Nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it. His strength is not greater than his weakness; his virtues were
+greater than his vices. His virtues belonged to his genius; his vices
+to his situation.
+
+Nothing could surpass Burns's love-songs in beauty of expression and in
+true pathos, except some of the old Scottish ballads themselves. There
+is in these a still more original cast of thought, a more romantic
+imagery; a closer intimacy with Nature, a more infantine simplicity of
+manners, a greater strength of affection, "thoughts that often lie too
+deep for tears." The old English ballads are of a gayer turn. They are
+adventurous and romantic; but they relate chiefly to good living and
+good fellowship, to drinking and hunting scenes.
+
+
+_Some Contemporary Poets_
+
+Tom Moore is heedless, gay, and prodigal of his poetical wealth.
+Everything lives, moves, and sparkles in his poetry, while, over all,
+love waves his purple light. His levity at last oppresses; his variety
+cloys, his rapidity dazzles and distracts the sight.
+
+Lord Byron's poetry is as morbid as Moore's is careless and dissipated.
+His passion is always of the same unaccountable character, at once
+violent and sullen, fierce and gloomy. It is the passion of a mind
+preying upon itself, and disgusted with, or indifferent to, all other
+things. There is nothing less poetical or more repulsive. But still
+there is power; and power forces admiration. In vigour of style and
+force of conception he surpasses every writer of the present day.
+
+Walter Scott is deservedly the most popular of living poets. He differs
+from his readers only in a greater range of knowledge and facility of
+expression. The force of his mind is picturesque rather than moral. He
+is to the great poet what an excellent mimic is to a great actor.
+
+Mr. Wordsworth is the most original poet now living. His poetry is not
+external, but internal; he furnishes it from his own mind, and is his
+own subject. He is the poet of mere sentiment. Many of the "Lyrical
+Ballads" are of inconceivable beauty, of perfect originality and
+pathos. But his powers have been mistaken by the age. He cannot form a
+whole. He has not the constructive faculty. His "Excursion" is a proof
+of this; the line labours, the sentiment moves slowly, but the poem
+stands stock-still.
+
+The Lake school of poetry had its origin in the French Revolution,
+or rather in the sentiments and opinions which produced that event.
+The world was to be turned topsy-turvy, and poetry was to share its
+fate. The paradox they set out with was that all things are by Nature
+equally fit subjects for poetry, or rather, that the meanest and most
+unpromising are best. They aimed at exciting attention by reversing
+the established standards of estimation in the world. An adept in
+this school of poetry is jealous of all excellence but his own. He is
+slow to admire anything admirable, feels no interest in what is most
+interesting to others, no grandeur in anything grand. He sees nothing
+but himself and the universe. His egotism is, in some respects, a
+madness. The effect of this has been perceived as something odd; but
+the cause or principle has never been traced to its source before. The
+proofs are to be found throughout many of the poems of Mr. Southey, Mr.
+Coleridge, and Mr. Wordsworth.
+
+I may say of Mr. Coleridge that he is the only person I ever knew who
+answered to the idea of a man of genius. But his "Ancient Mariner" is
+the only work that gives an adequate idea of his natural powers. In
+it, however, he seems to "conceive of poetry but as a drunken dream,
+reckless, careless, and heedless of past, present, and to come."
+
+I have thus gone through my task. I have felt my subject sinking from
+under me as I advanced, and have been afraid of ending in nothing.
+The interest has unavoidably decreased at almost every step of the
+progress, like a play that has its catastrophe in the first or second
+act. This, however, I could not help.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
+
+The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table
+
+  In 1857 Oliver Wendell Holmes (see Vol. V, p. 87) leapt into fame
+  by his "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" papers in the "Atlantic
+  Monthly," then edited by Lowell. His "Professor" and "Poet"
+  series of papers followed, with hardly less success. In these
+  writings a robust idealism, humour, fancy, and tenderness are so
+  gently mixed as to amount to genius.
+
+
+_Every Man His Own Boswell_
+
+"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called 'facts.'
+They are the brute beasts of the intellectual domain. Who does not know
+fellows that always have an ill-conditioned fact or two that they lead
+after them into decent company like so many bulldogs, ready to let them
+slip at every ingenious suggestion, or convenient generalisation, or
+pleasant fancy? I allow no 'facts' at this table."
+
+I continued, for I was in the talking vein, "This business of
+conversation is a very serious matter. There are men that it weakens
+one to talk with an hour more than a day's fasting would do. They are
+the talkers that have what may be called jerky minds. After a jolting
+half-hour with one of these jerky companions talking with a dull friend
+affords great relief. It is like taking the cat in your lap after
+holding a squirrel."
+
+"Do not dull people bore you?" said one of the lady boarders.
+
+"Madam," said I, "all men are bores except when we want them. Talking
+is like playing on the harp; there is as much in laying the hand on the
+strings to stop the vibrations as in twanging them to bring out the
+music. There is this, too, about talking," I continued; "it shapes our
+thoughts for us; the waves of conversation roll them as the surf rolls
+the pebbles on the shore. Writing or printing is like shooting with a
+rifle; you may hit your reader's mind, or miss it, but talking is like
+playing at a mark with the pipe of an engine--if it is within reach,
+and you have time enough, you can't help hitting it."
+
+The company agreed that this last illustration was of superior
+excellence.
+
+
+_The Ageing of Ideas_
+
+"I want to make a literary confession now, which I believe nobody
+has made before me. I never wrote a 'good' line in my life, but the
+moment after it was written it seemed a hundred years old. The rapidity
+with which ideas grow old in our memories is in a direct ratio to the
+squares of their importance. A great calamity, for instance, is as old
+as the trilobites an hour after it has happened. It stains backward
+through all the leaves we have turned over in the book of life, before
+its blot of tears or of blood is dry on the page we are turning."
+
+I wish I had not said all this then and there. The pale schoolmistress,
+in her mourning dress, was looking at me with a wild sort of
+expression; and all at once she melted away from her seat like an image
+of snow; a sling shot could not have brought her down better. God
+forgive me!
+
+
+_The Confusion of Personality_
+
+"We must remember that talking is one of the fine arts--the noblest,
+the most important, and the most difficult. It is not easy at the best
+for two persons talking together to make the most of each other's
+thoughts, there are so many of them."
+
+The company looked as if they wanted an explanation.
+
+"When John and Thomas, for instance, are talking together," I
+continued, "it is natural that among the six there should be more or
+less confusion and misapprehension."
+
+Our landlady turned pale. No doubt she thought there was a screw
+loose in my intellect, and that it involved the probable loss of a
+boarder. Everybody looked up, and the old gentleman opposite slid the
+carving-knife to one side, as it were, carelessly.
+
+"I think," I said, "I can make it plain that there are at least six
+personalities distinctly to be recognised as taking part in that
+dialogue between John and Thomas.
+
+
+THREE JOHNS
+
+  1. The real John; known only to his Maker.
+
+  2. John's ideal John; never the real one, and often very unlike
+  him.
+
+  3. Thomas's ideal John; never the real John, nor John's John, but
+  often very unlike either.
+
+
+THREE THOMASES
+
+  1. The real Thomas.
+
+  2. Thomas's ideal Thomas.
+
+  3. John's ideal Thomas.
+
+"It follows that until a man can be found who knows himself as his
+Maker knows him, or who sees himself as others see him, there must be
+at least six persons engaged in every dialogue between two. No wonder
+two disputants often get angry when there are six of them talking and
+listening all at the same time."
+
+A very unphilosophical application of the above remarks was made by
+a young fellow, answering to the name of John, who sits near me at
+table. A certain basket of peaches, a rare vegetable, little known to
+boarding-houses, was on its way to me _viâ_ this unlettered Johannes.
+He appropriated the three that remained in the basket, remarking that
+there was just one apiece for him. I convinced him that his practical
+inference was hasty and illogical--but in the meantime he had eaten the
+peaches.
+
+
+_More on Books_
+
+"Some of you boarders ask me why I don't write a novel, or something
+of that kind. Well, there are several reasons against it. In the first
+place I should tell all my secrets, and I maintain that verse is the
+proper medium for such revelations. Again, I am terribly afraid I
+should show up all my friends, and I am afraid all my friends would not
+bear showing up very well. And sometimes I have thought I might be too
+dull to write such a story as I should wish to write. And, finally, I
+think it is very likely I _shall_ write a story one of these days.
+
+"I saw you smiled when I spoke about the possibility of my being too
+dull to write a good story. When one arrives at the full and final
+conclusion that he or she is really dull, it is one of the most
+tranquillising and blessed convictions that can enter a mortal's mind.
+
+"How sweetly and honestly one said to me the other day, 'I hate
+books!' I did not recognise in him inferiority of literary taste
+half so distinctly as I did simplicity of character, and fearless
+acknowledgment of his inaptitude for scholarship. In fact, I think
+there are a great many who read, with a mark to keep their place, that
+really 'hate books,' but never had the wit to find it out, or the
+manliness to own it."
+
+
+_Dual Consciousness_
+
+I am so pleased with my boarding-house that I intend to remain here,
+perhaps for years.
+
+"Do thoughts have regular cycles? Take this: All at once a conviction
+flashes through us that we have been in the same precise circumstances
+as at the present instant once or many times before."
+
+When I mentioned this the Schoolmistress said she knew the feeling
+well, and didn't like to experience it; it made her think she was a
+ghost, sometimes.
+
+The young fellow whom they call John said he knew all about it. He
+had just lighted a cheroot the other day when a tremendous conviction
+came over him that he had done just that same thing ever so many times
+before.
+
+"How do I account for it? Well, some think that one of the hemispheres
+of the brain hangs fire, and the small interval between the perceptions
+of the nimble and the sluggish half seems an indefinitely long period,
+and therefore the second perception appears to be the copy of another,
+ever so old."
+
+
+_The Race of Life_
+
+"Nothing strikes one more in the race of life than to see how many give
+out in the first half of the course. 'Commencement day' always reminds
+me of the start of the 'Derby.' Here we are at Cambridge and a class is
+first 'graduating.' Poor Harry! he was to have been there, but he has
+paid forfeit.
+
+"_Ten years gone._ First turn in the race. A few broken down; two or
+three bolted. 'Cassock,' a black colt, seems to be ahead of the rest.
+'Meteor' has pulled up.
+
+"_Twenty years._ Second corner turned. 'Cassock' has dropped from the
+front, and 'Judex,' an iron-grey, has the lead. But look! how they have
+thinned out! Down flat--five--six--how many? They will not get up again
+in this race be very sure!
+
+"_Thirty years._ Third corner turned. 'Dives,' bright sorrel, ridden
+by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to make play fast--is getting
+to be the favourite with many. But who is that other one that now
+shows close up to the front? Don't you remember the quiet brown colt
+'Asteroid,' with the star in his forehead? That is he; he is one of the
+sort that lasts. 'Cassock' is now taking it easily in a gentle trot.
+
+"_Forty years._ More dropping off, but places much as before.
+
+"_Fifty years._ Race over. All that are on the course are coming
+in at a walk; no more running. Who is ahead? Ahead? What! and the
+winning-post a slab of white or gray stone standing out from that turf
+where there is no more jockeying, or straining for victory! Well, the
+world marks their places in its betting-book; but be sure that these
+matter very little, if they have run as well as they knew how!
+
+"I will read you a few lines, if you do not object, suggested by
+looking at a section of one of those chambered shells to which is given
+the name of Pearly Nautilus.
+
+
+THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS
+
+    This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
+        Sails the unshadowed main--
+      The venturous bark that flings
+      On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
+      In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,
+        And coral reefs lie bare,
+    Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
+
+    Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
+        Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
+      And every chambered cell,
+      Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell,
+      As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
+        Before thee lies revealed--
+    Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!
+
+    Year after year beheld the silent toil
+        That spread his lustrous coil;
+      Still, as the spiral grew,
+      He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
+      Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
+        Built up its idle door,
+    Stretched in his last found home, and knew the old no more.
+
+    Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
+        Child of the wandering sea,
+      Cast from her lap forlorn!
+      From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
+      Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
+        While on mine ear it rings,
+    Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:
+
+    Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
+        As the swift seasons roll!
+      Leave thy low-vaulted past!
+      Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
+      Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
+        Till thou at length art free,
+    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
+
+
+_Sensibility and Scholarship_
+
+"Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which
+they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. The side-door
+opens at once into the sacred chambers. There is almost always at
+least one key to this side-door. This is carried for years hidden in a
+mother's bosom. Be very careful to whom you entrust one of these keys
+of the side-door. Some of those who come in at the side-door have a
+scale of your whole nervous system, and can play on all the gamut of
+your sensibilities in semi-tones. Married life is the school in which
+the most accomplished artists in this department are found. Be very
+careful to whom you give the side-door key.
+
+"The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its
+great scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries,
+if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of
+manhood, and I think if we could ask Abraham to dine with us men of
+letters next Saturday we should feel honoured by his company."
+
+
+_A Growing Romance_
+
+"I should like to make a few intimate revelations relating especially
+to my early life, if I thought you would like to hear them."
+
+The schoolmistress turned in her chair and said, "If we should _like_
+to hear them--we should _love_ to."
+
+So I drew my chair a shade nearer her, and went on to speak of voices
+that had bewitched me.
+
+"I wish you could hear my sister's voice," said the schoolmistress.
+
+"If it is like yours it must be a pleasant one," said I.
+
+Lately she has been walking early and has brought back roses in her
+cheeks. I love the damask rose best of all flowers.
+
+Our talk had been of trees, and I had been comparing the American
+and the English elms in the walk we call the Mall. "Will you walk
+out and look at those elms with me after breakfast?" I said to the
+schoolmistress.
+
+I am not going to tell lies about it, and say that she blushed. On the
+contrary, she turned a little bit pale, but smiled brightly, and said,
+"Yes, with pleasure." So she went to fetch her bonnet, and the old
+gentleman opposite followed her with his eyes, and said he wished he
+was a young fellow.
+
+"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to the corner.
+
+"Then we won't take it," said I.
+
+When we reached the school-room door the damask roses were so much
+heightened in colour by exercise that I felt sure it would be useful to
+her to take a stroll like this every morning.
+
+I have been low-spirited and listless lately. It is coffee, I think. I
+notice that I tell my secrets too easily when I am downhearted. There
+are inscriptions on our hearts never seen except at dead low-tide.
+And there is a woman's footstep on the sand at the side of my deepest
+ocean-buried inscription.
+
+I am not going to say which I like best, the seashore or the mountains.
+The one where your place is, is the best for you; but this difference
+there is--you can domesticate mountains. The sea is feline. It licks
+your feet, its huge flanks purr very pleasantly for you; but it will
+crack your bones and eat you for all that, and wipe the crimsoned foam
+from its jaws as if nothing had happened. The mountains have a grand,
+stupid, lovable tranquillity; the sea has a fascinating, treacherous
+intelligence.
+
+"If I thought I should ever see the Alps!" said the schoolmistress.
+
+"Perhaps you might some time or other," I said.
+
+"It is not very likely," she answered.
+
+_Tableau._ Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures in the foreground,
+two of them standing apart; one of them a gentleman--oh--ah--yes!--the
+other a lady, leaning on his shoulder. (The reader will understand this
+was an internal, private, subjective diorama, seen for one instant on
+the background of my own consciousness.)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I can't say just how many walks she and I had taken together. I found
+the effect of going out every morning was decidedly favourable on her
+health. I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. Better too
+few words from the woman we love than too many; while she is silent,
+Nature is working for her; while she talks she works for herself. Love
+is sparingly soluble in the words of men, therefore they speak much of
+it; but one syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a
+man's heart can hold.
+
+
+_Nature's Patient Advance_
+
+I don't know anything sweeter than the leaking in of Nature through all
+the cracks in the walls and floors of cities. You heap a million tons
+of hewn rocks on a square mile or so of earth which was green once.
+The trees look down from the hill-tops and ask each other, as they
+stand on tiptoe, "What are these people about?" And the small herbs
+look up and whisper back, "We will go and see." So the small herbs pack
+themselves up in the least possible bundles, and wait until the night
+wind steals to them and whispers, "Come with me." Then they go softly
+with it into the great city--one to a cleft in the pavement, one to a
+spout on the roof, one to a seam in the marble over a rich gentleman's
+bones, and one to the grave without a stone, where nothing but a man
+is buried--and there they grow, looking down on the generations of men
+from mouldy roofs, looking up from between the less-trodden pavements,
+looking out through iron cemetery railings.
+
+Listen to them when there is only a light breath stirring, and you will
+hear them saying to each other, "Wait awhile." The words run along the
+telegraph of those narrow green lines that border the roads leading
+from the city, until they reach the slope of the hills, and the trees
+repeat in low murmurs, "Wait awhile." By and by the flow of life in the
+streets ebbs, and the old leafy inhabitants--the smaller tribes always
+in front--saunter in, one by one, very careless seemingly, but very
+tenacious, until they swarm so that the great stones gape from each
+other with the crowding of their roots, and the feldspar begins to be
+picked out of the granite to find them food. At last the trees take up
+their solemn line of march, and never rest until they have camped in
+the market-place. Wait long enough, and you will find an old doting
+oak hugging in its yellow underground arms a huge worn block that
+was the cornerstone of the State-house. Oh, so patient she is, this
+imperturbable Nature!
+
+
+_The Long Path_
+
+It was in talking of life that the schoolmistress and I came nearest
+together. I thought I knew something about that. The schoolmistress had
+tried life, too. Once in a while one meets with a single soul greater
+than all the living pageant that passes before it. This was one of
+them. Fortune had left her, sorrow had baptised her. Yet as I looked
+upon her tranquil face, gradually regaining a cheerfulness that was
+often sprightly, as she became interested in the various matters we
+talked about and places we visited, I saw that eye and lip and every
+shifting lineament were made for love.
+
+I never addressed a word of love to the schoolmistress in the course of
+these pleasant walks. It seemed as if we talked of everything but love
+on that particular morning. There was, perhaps, a little more timidity
+and hesitancy on my part than I have commonly shown among our people
+at the boarding-house. In fact, I considered myself the master at the
+breakfast-table; but somehow I could not command myself just then so
+well as usual. The truth is, I had secured a passage to Liverpool in
+the steamer which was to leave at noon--with the condition of being
+released if circumstances occurred to detain me. The schoolmistress
+knew nothing about this, of course, as yet.
+
+It was on the Common that we were walking. The boulevard of the
+Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in different
+directions. One of these runs across the whole length of the Common. We
+called it the "long path," and were fond of it.
+
+I felt very weak indeed--though of a tolerably robust habit--as we came
+opposite to the head of this path on that morning. I think I tried to
+speak twice, without making myself distinctly audible. At last I got
+out the question, "Will you take the long path with me?" "Certainly,"
+said the schoolmistress, "with much pleasure." "Think," I said, "before
+you answer. If you take the long path with me now, I shall interpret it
+that we are to part no more."
+
+The schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement, as if an arrow
+had struck her. One of the long granite blocks used as seats was hard
+by--the one you may still see close by the gingko-tree. "Pray sit
+down," I said.
+
+"No, no," she answered softly; "I will walk the _long path_ with you!"
+
+The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking, arm-in-arm,
+about the middle of the long path, and said very charmingly to us,
+"Good-morning, my dears!"
+
+
+
+
+LA BRUYÈRE
+
+Characters
+
+  Jean de la Bruyère was born in Paris, in August, 1645. He studied
+  law and became a barrister, but at the age of twenty-eight gave
+  up that profession, which did not agree with his tendencies
+  to meditation and his scrupulous mind. In 1673, he bought the
+  office of Treasurer of the Finances, and led an independent and
+  studious life. In 1684, he became a tutor to the Duc de Bourbon,
+  grandson of the great Condé, and continued to reside in the Condé
+  household until his death in 1696. In the "Caractères," which
+  first appeared in 1688, La Bruyère has recorded his impressions
+  of men. In 1687 the manuscript was handed to Michallet, a
+  publisher in whose shop La Bruyère spent many hours every week.
+  "Will you print this?" asked the author. "I don't know whether
+  it will be to your advantage; but should it prove a success,
+  the money will be for my dear friend, your little daughter."
+  The sale of the book produced over $40,000. When La Bruyère was
+  elected a member of the French Academy, his enemies declared
+  that the "Characters" consisted of satirical portraits of
+  leading personalities, and "keys" to the portraits were widely
+  circulated. The pen sketches, however, are not only applicable to
+  that period, but to every age.
+
+
+_I.--On Men and Books_
+
+All has been said, and one comes too late after the seven thousand
+years during which men have existed--and thought. All that one can do
+is to think and speak rightly, without attempting to force one's tastes
+and feelings upon others.
+
+Mediocrity in poetry, music, painting, and oratory is unbearable.
+
+There is in art a certain degree of perfection, as there is in Nature
+an ideal point of matureness. To go beyond, or to remain below that
+degree is faulty.
+
+The ability of a writer consists mainly in giving good definitions and
+apt descriptions. The superiority of Moses, Homer, Plato, Virgil,
+and Horace resides in the beauty of their expressions and images. One
+has to express the truth to write in a natural, powerful, and refined
+manner.
+
+It has taken centuries for men to return to the ideal of the ancients
+and to all that is simple and natural.
+
+We feed on the classics and the able, modern authors. Then, when we
+become authors ourselves, we ill-use our masters, like those children
+who, strengthened by the milk they have suckled, beat their nurses.
+
+Read your works to those who are able to criticise and appreciate them.
+A good and careful writer often finds that the expression he had so
+long looked for was most simple and natural, and one which ought to
+have occurred to him at once and without effort.
+
+The pleasure there is in criticising takes from us the joy of being
+moved by that which is really beautiful.
+
+Arsène, from the top of his mind, looks down upon humanity; and, owing
+to the distance from which he sees men, is almost frightened at their
+smallness. He is so filled with his own sublime thoughts that he hardly
+finds time to deliver a few precious oracles.
+
+Théocrine knows things which are rather useless; his ideas are always
+strange, his memory always at work. He is a supercilious dreamer, and
+always seems to laugh at those whom he considers as his inferiors. I
+read my book to him; he listens. Afterwards, he speaks to me about his
+own book. What does he think of mine? I told you so before: he speaks
+to me of his own work!
+
+What an amazing difference there is between a beautiful book and a
+perfect book!
+
+When a book elevates your mind, and inspires you with noble thoughts,
+you require nothing else to judge it; it is a good and masterly work.
+
+The fools do not understand what they read. The mediocre think they
+understand thoroughly. Great minds do not always understand every page
+of a book; they think obscure that which is obscure, and clear that
+which is clear. The pedantic find obscure that which is not, and refuse
+to understand that which is perfectly clear.
+
+Molière would have been a perfect writer had he only avoided jargon and
+barbarisms, and written more purely.
+
+Ronsard had in him enough good and bad to form great disciples in prose
+and verse.
+
+Corneille, at his best, is original and inimitable, but he is uneven.
+He had a sublime mind, and has written a few verses which are among the
+best ever written.
+
+Racine is more human. He has imitated the Greek classics, and in his
+tragedies there is simplicity, clearness, and pathos.
+
+Corneille paints men as they ought to be; Racine paints them as they
+are. Corneille is more moral; Racine is more natural. The former, it
+seems, owes much to Sophocles; the latter, to Euripides.
+
+How is it that people at the theatre laugh so freely, and yet are
+ashamed to weep? Is it less natural to be moved by all that is worthy
+of pity than to burst out laughing at all that is ridiculous? Is it
+that we consider it weak to cry, especially when the cause of our
+emotion is an artificial one? But the cause of our laughter at the
+theatre is also artificial. Some persons think it is as childish to
+laugh excessively as to sob.
+
+Not only should plays not be immoral; they should be elevating.
+
+Logic is the art of convincing oneself of some truth. Eloquence is a
+gift of the soul which makes one capable of conquering the hearts and
+minds of the listeners and of making them believe anything one pleases.
+
+He who pays attention only to the taste of his own century thinks more
+of himself than of his writings. One should always aim at perfection.
+If our contemporaries fail to do us justice, posterity may do so.
+
+Horace and Boileau have said all this before. I take your word for it;
+but may I not, after them, "think a true thought," which others will
+think after me?
+
+There are more tools than workers, and among the latter, more bad than
+good ones.
+
+There is, in this world, no task more painful than that of making a
+name for oneself; we die before having even sketched our work. It
+takes, in France, much firmness of purpose and much broadmindedness
+to be indifferent to public functions and offices, and to consent to
+remain at home and do nothing.
+
+Hardly anyone has enough merit to assume that part in a dignified
+manner, or enough brains to fill the gap of time without what is
+generally called business.
+
+All that is required is a better name for idleness; and that
+meditation, conversation, reading, and repose should be called work.
+
+You tell me that there is gold sparkling on Philémon's clothes. So
+there is on the clothes at the draper's. He is covered with the most
+gorgeous fabrics. I can see those fabrics in the shops. But the
+embroidery and ornaments on Philémon's clothes further increase their
+magnificence. If so, I praise the embroiderer's workmanship. If someone
+asks him the time, he takes from his pocket a jewelled watch; the hilt
+of his sword is made of onyx; he displays a dazzling diamond on his
+finger and wears all the curious and pretty trifles of fashion and
+vanity. You arouse my interest at last. I ought to see those precious
+things. Send me the clothes and jewels of Philémon; I don't require to
+see _him_.
+
+It is difficult to tell the hero from the great man at war. Both have
+military virtues. However, the former is generally young, enterprising,
+gifted, self-controlled even in danger, and courageous; the latter has
+much judgment, foresees events, and is endowed with much ability and
+experience. Perhaps one might say that Alexander was only a hero and
+that Cæsar was a great man.
+
+Ménippe is a bird adorned with feathers which are not his own. He
+has nothing to say; he has no feelings, no thoughts. He repeats what
+others have said, and uses their ideas so instinctively that he
+deceives himself, and is his first victim. He often believes that he
+is expressing his own thoughts, while he is only an echo of someone
+whom he has just left. He believes childishly that the amount of wit he
+possesses is all that man ever possessed. He therefore looks like a man
+who has nothing to desire.
+
+
+_II.--On Women and Wealth_
+
+From the age of thirteen to the age of twenty-one, a girl wishes she
+were beautiful; afterwards she wishes she were a man.
+
+An unfaithful woman is a woman who has ceased to love.
+
+A light-hearted woman is a woman who already loves another.
+
+A fickle woman is a woman who does not know whether she loves or not,
+and who does not know what or whom she loves.
+
+An indifferent woman is a woman who loves nothing.
+
+There is a false modesty which is vanity; a false glory which is
+light-mindedness; a false greatness which is smallness; a false virtue
+which is hypocrisy; a false wisdom which is prudishness.
+
+Why make men responsible for the fact that women are ignorant? Have
+any laws or decrees been issued forbidding them to open their eyes, to
+read, to remember what they have read, and to show that they understood
+it in their conversations and their works? Have they not themselves
+decided to know little or nothing, because of their physical weakness,
+or the sluggishness of their minds; because of the time their beauty
+requires; because of their light-mindedness which prevents them from
+studying; because they have only talent and genius for needlework or
+house-managing; or because they instinctively dislike all that is
+earnest and demands some effort?
+
+Women go to extremes. They are better or worse than men.
+
+Women go farther than men in love; but men make better friends.
+
+It is because of men that women dislike one another.
+
+It is nothing for a woman to say what she does not mean; it is easier
+still for a man to say all what he thinks.
+
+Time strengthens the ties of friendship and loosens those of love.
+
+There is less distance between hatred and love than between dislike and
+love.
+
+One can no more decide to love for ever than decide never to love at
+all.
+
+One comes across men who irritate one by their ridiculous expressions,
+the strangeness and unfitness of the words they use. Their weird jargon
+becomes to them a natural language. They are delighted with themselves
+and their wit. True, they have some wit, but one pities them for having
+so little of it; and, what is more, one suffers from it.
+
+Arrias has read and seen everything, and he wants people to know it.
+He is a universal man; he prefers to lie rather than keep silent or
+appear ignorant about something. The subject of the conversation is the
+court of a certain northern country. He at once starts talking, and
+speaks of it as if he had been born in that country; he gives details
+on the manners and customs, the women and the laws: he tells anecdotes
+and laughs loudly at his own wit. Someone ventures to contradict him
+and proves to him that he is not accurate in his statements. Arrias
+turns to the interrupter: "I am telling nothing that is not exact," he
+says. "I heard all those details from Sethon, ambassador of France to
+that court. Sethon returned recently; I know him well, and had a long
+conversation with him on this matter." Arrias was resuming his story
+with more confidence than ever, when one of the guests said to him: "I
+am Sethon, and have just returned from my mission."
+
+Cléante is a most honest man. His wife is the most reasonable person
+in the world. Both make everybody happy wherever they go, and it were
+impossible to find a more delightful and refined couple. Yet they
+separate to-morrow!
+
+At thirty you think about making your fortune; at fifty you have not
+made it; when you are old, you start building, and you die while the
+painters are still at work.
+
+Numberless persons ruin themselves by gambling, and tell you coolly
+they cannot live without gambling. What nonsense! Would it be allowed
+to say that one cannot live without stealing, murdering, or leading a
+riotous existence?
+
+Giton has a fresh complexion, and an aggressive expression. He is
+broad-shouldered and corpulent. He speaks with confidence. He blows his
+nose noisily, spits to a great distance, and sneezes loudly. He sleeps
+a great deal, and snores whenever he pleases. When he takes a walk with
+his equals he occupies the centre; when he stops, they stop; when he
+advances again, they do the same. No one ever interrupts him. He is
+jovial, impatient, haughty, irritable, independent. He believes himself
+witty and gifted. He is rich.
+
+Phédon has sunken eyes. He is thin, and his cheeks are hollow. He
+sleeps very little. He is a dreamer, and, although witty, looks stupid.
+He forgets to say what he knows, and when he does speak, speaks badly.
+He shares the opinion of others; he runs, he flies to oblige anyone; he
+is kind and flattering. He is superstitious, scrupulous, and bashful.
+He walks stealthily, speaks in a low voice, and takes no room. He can
+glide through the densest crowd without effort. He coughs, and blows
+his nose inside his hat, and waits to sneeze until he is alone. He is
+poor.
+
+
+_III.--On Men and Manners_
+
+Paris is divided into a number of small societies which are like so
+many republics. They have their own customs, laws, language, and even
+their own jokes.
+
+One grows up, in towns, in a gross ignorance of all that concerns the
+country. City-bred men are unable to tell hemp from flax, and wheat
+from rye. We are satisfied as long as we can feed and dress.
+
+When we speak well of a man at court, we invariably do so for two
+reasons: firstly, in order that he may hear that we spoke well of him;
+secondly, in order that he may speak well of us in his turn.
+
+To be successful and to secure high offices there are two ways: the
+high-road, on which most people pass; and the cross-road, which is the
+shorter.
+
+The youth of a prince is the origin of many fortunes.
+
+Court is where joys are evident, but artificial; where sorrows are
+concealed, but real.
+
+A slave has one master; an ambitious man has as many as there are
+persons who may be useful to him in his career.
+
+With five or six art terms, people give themselves out as experts in
+music, painting, and architecture.
+
+The high opinions people have of the great and mighty is so blind, and
+their interest in their gestures, features, and manners so general,
+that if the mighty were only good, the devotion of the people to them
+would amount to worship.
+
+Lucile prefers to waste his life as the protégé of a few aristocrats
+than to live on familiar terms with his peers.
+
+It is advisable to say nothing of the mighty. If you speak well of
+them, it is flattery. It is dangerous to speak ill of them during their
+lifetime, and it is cowardly to do so after they are dead.
+
+Life is short and annoying. We spend life wishing.
+
+When life is wretched, it is hard to bear; when it is happy, it is
+dreadful to lose it. The one alternative is as bad as the other.
+
+Death occurs only once, but makes itself felt at every moment of our
+life. It is more painful to fear it than to suffer it.
+
+There are but three events for man: birth, life, and death. He does not
+realise his birth, he suffers when he dies, and he forgets to live.
+
+We seek our happiness outside ourselves. We seek it in the opinions of
+men whom we know are flatterers, and who lack sincerity. What folly!
+Most men spend half their lives making the other half miserable.
+
+It is easier for many men to acquire one thousand virtues than to get
+rid of one defect.
+
+It is as difficult to find a conceited man who believes himself really
+happy as to discover a modest man who thinks himself too unhappy.
+
+The birch is necessary to children. Grown-up men need a crown, a
+sceptre, velvet caps and fur-lined robes. Reason and justice devoid of
+ornaments would not be imposing or convincing. Man, who is a mind, is
+led by his eyes and his ears!
+
+
+_IV.--On Customs and Religion_
+
+Fashion in matters of food, health, taste and conscience is utterly
+foolish. Game is at present out of fashion, and condemned as a
+food. It is to-day a sin against fashion to be cured of the ague by
+blood-letting.
+
+The conceited man thinks every day of the way in which he will be able
+to attract attention on the following day. The philosopher leaves the
+matter of his clothes to his tailor. It is just as childish to avoid
+fashion as to follow its decrees too closely.
+
+Fashion exists in the domain of religion.
+
+There have been young ladies who were virtuous, healthy and pious, who
+wished to enter a convent, but who were not rich enough to take in a
+wealthy abbey the vows of poverty.
+
+How many men one sees who are strong and righteous, who would never
+listen to the entreaties of their friends, but who are easily
+influenced and corrupted by women.
+
+I would like to hear a sober, moderate, chaste, righteous man declare
+that there is no God. At least he would be speaking in a disinterested
+manner. But there is no such man to be found.
+
+The fact that I am unable to prove that God does not exist establishes
+for me the fact that God does exist.
+
+Atheism does not exist. If there were real atheists, it would merely
+prove that there are monsters in this world.
+
+Forty years ago I didn't exist, and it was not within my power to
+be born. It does not depend upon me who now exist to be no more.
+Consequently, I began being and am going on being, thanks to something
+which is beyond me, which will last after me, which is mightier than I
+am. If that something is not God, pray tell me what it is.
+
+Everything is great and worthy of admiration in Nature.
+
+O you vain and conceited man, make one of these worms which you
+despise! You loathe toads; make a toad if you can!
+
+Kings, monarchs, potentates, sacred majesties, have I given you all
+your supreme names? We, mere men, require some rain for our crops or
+even some dew; make some dew, send to the earth a drop of water!
+
+A certain inequality in the destinies of men, which maintains order and
+obedience, is the work of God. It suggests a divine law.
+
+If the reader does not care for these "characters," it will surprise
+me; if he does care for them, it will also surprise me.
+
+
+
+
+WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR
+
+Imaginary Conversations
+
+  Walter Savage Landor, writer, scholar, poet, and, it might
+  almost be said, quarreller, said of his own fame, "I shall dine
+  late, but the dining-room will be well lighted, the guests few
+  and select." A powerful, turbulent spirit, he attracted great
+  men. Emerson, Browning, Dickens, and Swinburne travelled to sit
+  at his feet, and he knew Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Lamb, and
+  Southey. Born at Warwick, on January 30, 1775, he was dismissed
+  from Rugby School at the age of fifteen, and from Oxford at the
+  age of nineteen; was estranged from his father; several times
+  left the wife whom he had married for her golden hair, and spent
+  the last years of his life, lonely but lionised, at Florence. To
+  the last--which came on September 17, 1864--he wrote both prose
+  and verse. Landor appears, to the average appreciator of English
+  literature, an interesting personality rather than a great
+  writer, though his epic, "Gebir" (1798), and his tragedy, "Count
+  Julian" (1812), like some of his minor verse, contain passages
+  of great beauty. But it was in the "Imaginary Conversations,"
+  written between 1821 and 1829, and first sampled by the public
+  in review form in 1823, that he endowed the English language
+  with his most permanent achievement. Nearly 150 of these
+  "Conversations" were written in all, and we epitomise here five
+  of the best-known.
+
+
+_I.--Peter the Great and Alexis_
+
+PETER: And so, after flying from thy father's house, thou hast returned
+again from Vienna. After this affront in the face of Europe, thou
+darest to appear before me?
+
+ALEXIS: My emperor and father! I am brought before your majesty not at
+my own desire.
+
+PETER: I believe it well. What hope hast thou, rebel, in thy flight to
+Vienna?
+
+ALEXIS: The hope of peace and privacy; the hope of security, and, above
+all things, of never more offending you.
+
+PETER: Didst thou take money?
+
+ALEXIS: A few gold pieces. Hitherto your liberality, my father, hath
+supplied my wants of every kind.
+
+PETER: Not of wisdom, not of duty, not of spirit, not of courage, not
+of ambition. I have educated thee among my guards and horses, among
+my drums and trumpets, among my flags and masts. I have rolled cannon
+balls before thee over iron plates; I have shown thee bright new arms,
+bayonets, and sabres. I have myself led thee forth to the window when
+fellows were hanged and shot; and I have made thee, in spite of thee,
+look steadfastly upon them, incorrigible coward! Thy intention, I know,
+is to subvert the institutions it has been the labour of my lifetime to
+establish. Thou hast never rejoiced at my victories.
+
+ALEXIS: I have rejoiced at your happiness and your safety.
+
+PETER: Liar! Coward! Traitor! When the Polanders and the Swedes fell
+before me, didst thou congratulate me? Didst thou praise the Lord of
+Hosts? Wert thou not silent and civil and low-spirited?
+
+ALEXIS: I lamented the irretrievable loss of human life, I lamented
+that the bravest and noblest were swept away the first, that order
+was succeeded by confusion, and that your majesty was destroying the
+glorious plans you alone were capable of devising.
+
+PETER: Of what plans art thou speaking?
+
+ALEXIS: Of civilising the Muscovites. The Polanders in parts were
+civilised; the Swedes more than any other nation.
+
+PETER: Civilised, forsooth? Why the robes of the metropolitan, him at
+Upsal, are not worth three ducats. But I am wasting my words. Thine are
+tenets that strike at the root of politeness and sound government.
+
+ALEXIS: When I hear the God of Mercy invoked to massacres, and thanked
+for furthering what He reprobates and condemns--I look back in vain on
+any barbarous people for worse barbarism.
+
+PETER: Malignant atheist! Am I Czar of Muscovy, and hear discourse on
+reason and religion--from my own son, too? No, by the Holy Trinity!
+thou art no son of mine. Unnatural brute, I have no more to do with
+thee. Ho there! Chancellor! What! Come at last! Wert napping, or
+counting thy ducats?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's will, and pleasure!
+
+PETER: Is the senate assembled?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Every member, sire.
+
+PETER: Conduct this youth with thee, and let them judge him; thou
+understandest?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's commands are the breath of our nostrils.
+
+PETER: If these rascals are amiss, I will try my new cargo of Livonian
+hemp upon 'em.
+
+CHANCELLOR (_returning_): Sire! Sire!
+
+PETER: Speak, fellow! Surely they have not condemned him to death
+without giving themselves time to read the accusation, that thou comest
+back so quickly.
+
+CHANCELLOR: No, sire! Nor has either been done.
+
+PETER: Then thy head quits thy shoulders.
+
+CHANCELLOR: O sire! he fell.
+
+PETER: Tie him up to thy chair, then. Cowardly beast! What made him
+fall?
+
+CHANCELLOR: The hand of death.
+
+PETER: Prythee speak plainlier.
+
+CHANCELLOR: He said calmly, but not without sighing twice or thrice,
+"Lead me to the scaffold; I am weary of life. My father says, too
+truly, I am not courageous, but the death that leads me to my God shall
+never terrify me." When he heard your majesty's name accusing him of
+treason and attempts at parricide, he fell speechless. We raised him
+up: he was dead!
+
+PETER: Inconsiderate and barbarous varlet as thou art, dost thou recite
+this ill accident to a father--and to one who has not dined? Bring me a
+glass of brandy. Away and bring it: scamper! Hark ye! bring the bottle
+with it: and--hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some pickled
+sturgeon, and some krout and caviar.
+
+
+_II.--Joseph Scaliger and Montaigne_
+
+MONTAIGNE: What could have brought you, M. de l'Escale, other than a
+good heart? You rise early, I see; you must have risen with the sun, to
+be here at this hour. I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in
+Auvergne. Pierre, thou hast done well; set it upon the table, and tell
+Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil them.
+
+SCALIGER: This, I perceive, is the ante-chamber to your library; here
+are your every-day books.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Faith! I have no other. These are plenty, methinks.
+
+SCALIGER: You have great resources within yourself, and therefore can
+do with fewer.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Why, how many now do you think here may be?
+
+SCALIGER: I did not believe at first that there could be above
+fourscore.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Well! are fourscore few? Are we talking of peas and beans?
+
+SCALIGER: I and my father (put together) have written well-nigh as many.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Ah! to write them is quite another thing. How do you like my
+wine? If you prefer your own country wine, only say it. I have several
+bottles in my cellar. I do not know, M. de l'Escale, whether you are
+particular in these matters?
+
+SCALIGER: I know three things--wine, poetry, and the world.
+
+MONTAIGNE: You know one too many, then. I hardly know whether I know
+anything about poetry; for I like Clem Marot better than Ronsard.
+
+SCALIGER: It pleases me greatly that you like Marot. His version of
+the Psalms is lately set to music, and added to the New Testament of
+Geneva.
+
+MONTAIGNE: It is putting a slice of honeycomb into a barrel of vinegar,
+which will never grow the sweeter for it.
+
+SCALIGER: Surely, you do not think in this fashion of the New Testament?
+
+MONTAIGNE: Who supposes it? Whatever is mild and kindly is there. But
+Jack Calvin has thrown bird-lime and vitriol upon it, and whoever but
+touches the cover dirties his fingers or burns them.
+
+SCALIGER: Calvin is a very great man.
+
+MONTAIGNE: I do not like your great men who beckon me to them, call me
+their begotten, their dear child, and their entrails; and, if I happen
+to say on any occasion, "I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little from
+you," stamp and cry, "The devil you do!" and whistle to the executioner.
+
+SCALIGER: John Calvin is a grave man, orderly, and reasonable.
+
+MONTAIGNE: In my opinion he has not the order nor the reason of my
+cook. Mat never twitched God by the sleeve and swore He should not have
+his own way.
+
+SCALIGER: M. de Montaigne, have you ever studied the doctrine of
+predestination?
+
+MONTAIGNE: I should not understand it if I had; and I would not break
+through an old fence merely to get into a cavern. Would it make me
+honester or happier, or, in other things, wiser?
+
+SCALIGER: I do not know whether it would materially.
+
+MONTAIGNE: I should be an egregious fool, then, to care about it. Come,
+walk about with me; after a ride you can do nothing better to take off
+fatigue. I can show you nothing but my house and my dairy.
+
+SCALIGER: Permit me to look a little at those banners. They remind me
+of my own family, we being descended from the great Cane della Scala,
+Prince of Verona, and from the House of Hapsburg, as you must have
+heard from my father.
+
+MONTAIGNE: What signifies it to the world whether the great Cane was
+tied to his grandmother or not? As for the House of Hapsburg, if you
+could put together as many such houses as would make up a city larger
+than Cairo, they would not be worth his study, or a sheet of paper on
+the table of it.
+
+
+_III.--Bossuet and the Duchesse de Fontanges_
+
+BOSSUET: Mademoiselle, it is the king's desire that I compliment you on
+the elevation you have attained.
+
+FONTANGES: O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His majesty
+is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was,
+"Angélique! do not forget to compliment monseigneur the bishop on
+the dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the dauphiness.
+I desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank
+sufficient to confess you, now you are duchess." You are so agreeable a
+man, monseigneur, I will confess to you, directly.
+
+BOSSUET: Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young
+lady?
+
+FONTANGES: What is that?
+
+BOSSUET: Do you hate sin?
+
+FONTANGES: Very much.
+
+BOSSUET: Do you hate the world?
+
+FONTANGES: A good deal of it; all Picardy, for example, and all
+Sologne; nothing is uglier--and, oh my life! what frightful men and
+women!
+
+BOSSUET: I would say in plain language, do you hate the flesh and the
+devil?
+
+FONTANGES: Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the
+while, I will tell him so--"I hate you, beast!" There now. As for
+flesh, I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor
+hunt, nor do anything that I know of.
+
+BOSSUET: Mademoiselle Marie Angélique de Scoraille de Rousille,
+Duchesse de Fontanges! Do you hate titles, and dignities, and yourself?
+
+FONTANGES: Myself! Does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first?
+Hatred is the worst thing in the world; it makes one so very ugly.
+
+BOSSUET: We must detest our bodies if we would save our souls.
+
+FONTANGES: That is hard. How can I do it? I see nothing so detestable
+in mine. Do you? As God hath not hated me, why should I? As for titles
+and dignities, I am glad to be a duchess. Would not you rather be a
+duchess than a waiting-maid if the king gave you your choice?
+
+BOSSUET: Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am confounded at the levity of your
+question. If you really have anything to confess, and desire that I
+should have the honour of absolving you, it would be better to proceed.
+
+FONTANGES: You must first direct me, monseigneur. I have nothing
+particular. What was it that dropped on the floor as you were speaking?
+
+BOSSUET: Leave it there!
+
+FONTANGES: Your ring fell from your hand, my lord bishop! How quick you
+are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up?
+
+BOSSUET: Madame is too condescending. My hand is shrivelled; the ring
+has ceased to fit it. A pebble has moved you more than my words.
+
+FONTANGES: It pleases me vastly. I admire rubies. I will ask the king
+for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the
+chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall
+ask him. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess
+to you with it upon my finger. But, first, I must be cautious and
+particular to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should
+say.
+
+
+_IV.--The Empress Catharine and Princess Dashkof_
+
+CATHARINE: Into his heart! Into his heart! If he escapes, we perish!
+Do you think, Dashkof, they can hear me through the double door? Yes,
+hark! they heard me. They have done it! What bubbling and gurgling!
+He groaned but once. Listen! His blood is busier now than it ever was
+before. I should not have thought it could have splashed so loud upon
+the floor. Put you ear against the lock.
+
+DASHKOF: I hear nothing.
+
+CATHARINE: My ears are quicker than yours, and know these notes better.
+Let me come. There! There again! The drops are now like lead. How now?
+Which of these fools has brought his dog with him? What trampling and
+lapping! The creature will carry the marks all about the palace with
+his feet! You turn pale, and tremble. You should have supported me, in
+case I had required it.
+
+DASHKOF: I thought only of the tyrant. Neither in life nor in death
+could any one of these miscreants make me tremble. But the husband
+slain by his wife! What will Russia--what will Europe say?
+
+CATHARINE: Russia has no more voice than a whale. She may toss about in
+her turbulence, but my artillery (for now, indeed, I can safely call it
+mine) shall stun and quiet her.
+
+DASHKOF: I fear for your renown.
+
+CATHARINE: Europe shall be informed of my reasons, if she should ever
+find out that I countenanced the conspiracy. She shall be persuaded
+that her repose made the step necessary; that my own life was in
+danger; that I fell upon my knees to soften the conspirators; that only
+when I had fainted, the horrible deed was done.
+
+DASHKOF: Europe may be more easily subjugated than duped.
+
+CATHARINE: She shall be both, God willing! Is the rouge off my face?
+
+DASHKOF: It is rather in streaks and mottles, excepting just under the
+eyes, where it sits as it should do.
+
+CATHARINE: I am heated and thirsty. I cannot imagine how. I think
+we have not yet taken our coffee. I could eat only a slice of melon
+at breakfast--my duty urged me _then_--and dinner is yet to come.
+Remember, I am to faint at the midst of it, when the intelligence comes
+in, or, rather, when, in despite of every effort to conceal it from
+me, the awful truth has flashed upon my mind. Remember, too, you are
+to catch me, and to cry for help, and to tear those fine flaxen hairs
+which we laid up together on the toilet; and we are both to be as
+inconsolable as we can be for the life of us.
+
+Come, sing. I know not how to fill up the interval. Two long hours yet!
+How stupid and tiresome! I wish all things of the sort could be done
+and be over in a day. They are mightily disagreeable when by nature one
+is not cruel. People little know my character. I have the tenderest
+heart upon earth. Ivan must follow next; he is heir to the throne.
+But not now. Another time. Two such scenes together, and without some
+interlude, would perplex people.
+
+I thought we spoke of singing. Do not make me wait. Cannot you sing as
+usual, without smoothing your dove's throat with your handkerchief, and
+taking off your necklace? Sing, sing! I am quite impatient!
+
+
+_V.--Bacon and Richard Hooker_
+
+BACON: Hearing much of your worthiness and wisdom, Master Richard
+Hooker, I have besought your comfort and consolation in this my too
+heavy affliction, for we often do stand in need of hearing what we
+know full well, and our own balsams must be poured into our breasts by
+another's hand. Withdrawn, as you live, from court and courtly men,
+and having ears occupied by better reports than such as are flying
+about me, yet haply so hard a case as mine, befalling a man heretofore
+not averse from the studies in which you take delight, may have touched
+you with some concern.
+
+HOOKER: I do think, my lord of Verulam, that the day which in his
+wisdom he appointed for your trial was the very day on which the
+king's majesty gave unto your ward and custody the great seal of his
+English realm. And--let me utter it without offence--your features and
+stature were from that day forward no longer what they were before.
+Such an effect do rank and power and office produce even on prudent and
+religious men. You, my lord, as befits you, are smitten and contrite;
+but I know that there is always a balm which lies uppermost in these
+afflictions.
+
+BACON: Master Richard, it is surely no small matter to lose the respect
+of those who looked up to us for countenance; and the favour of a right
+learned king, and, O Master Hooker, such a power of money! But money
+is mere dross. I should always hold it so, if it possessed not two
+qualities--that of making men treat us reverently, and that of enabling
+us to help the needy.
+
+HOOKER: The respect, I think, of those who respect us for what a fool
+can give and a rogue can take away, may easily be dispensed with; but
+it is indeed a high prerogative to help the needy, and when it pleases
+the Almighty to deprive us of it, he hath removed a most fearful
+responsibility.
+
+BACON: Methinks it beginneth to rain, Master Richard. What if we
+comfort our bodies with a small cup of wine, against the ill-temper of
+the air. Pledge me; hither comes our wine.(_To the servant_) Dolt! Is
+not this the beverage I reserve for myself?
+
+Bear with me, good Master Hooker, but verily I have little of this
+wine, and I keep it as a medicine for my many and growing infirmities.
+You are healthy at present: God, in His infinite mercy, long maintain
+you so! Weaker drink is more wholesome for you. But this Malmsey, this
+Malmsey, flies from centre to circumference, and makes youthful blood
+boil.
+
+HOOKER: Of a truth, my knowledge in such matters is but sparse. My
+lord of Canterbury once ordered part of a goblet, containing some
+strong Spanish wine, to be taken to me from his table when I dined by
+sufferance with his chaplains, and, although a most discreet, prudent
+man, as befitteth his high station, was not so chary of my health as
+your lordship. Wine is little to be trifled with; physic less. The
+Cretans, the brewers of this Malmsey, have many aromatic and powerful
+herbs among them. On their mountains, and notably on Ida, grows that
+dittany which works such marvels, and which perhaps may give activity
+to this hot medicinal drink of theirs. I would not touch it knowingly;
+an unregarded leaf dropped into it above the ordinary might add such
+puissance to the concoction as almost to break the buckles in my shoes.
+
+BACON: When I read of such things I doubt them: but if I could procure
+a plant of dittany I would persuade my apothecary and my gamekeeper to
+make experiments.
+
+HOOKER: I dare not distrust what grave writers have declared in matters
+beyond my knowledge.
+
+BACON: Good Master Hooker, I have read many of your reasonings, and
+they are admirably well sustained. Yet forgive me, in God's name my
+worthy master, if you descried in me some expression of wonder at your
+simplicity. You would define to a hair's breadth the qualities, states,
+and dependencies of principalities, dominations, and powers; you would
+be unerring about the apostles and the churches, and 'tis marvellous
+how you wander about a pot-herb!
+
+HOOKER: I know my poor, weak intellects, most noble lord, and how
+scantily they have profited by my hard painstaking. Wisdom consisteth
+not in knowing many things, nor even in knowing them thoroughly, but
+in choosing and in following what conduces the most certainly to our
+lasting happiness and true glory.
+
+BACON: I have observed among the well-informed and the ill-informed
+nearly the same quantity of infirmities and follies; those who are
+rather the wiser keep them separate, and those who are wisest of all
+keep them better out of sight. I have persuaded men, and shall persuade
+them for ages, that I possess a wide range of thought unexplored by
+others, and first thrown open by me, with many fair enclosures of
+choice and abstruse knowledge. One subject, however, hath almost
+escaped me, and surely one worth the trouble.
+
+HOOKER: Pray, my lord, if I am guilty of no indiscretion, what may it
+be?
+
+BACON: Francis Bacon.
+
+
+
+
+LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+
+Reflections and Moral Maxims
+
+  Rochefoucauld's "Reflections, or Sentences and Moral Maxims,"
+  were published in 1665. In them his philosophy of life is
+  expressed with a perfection of form which still remains
+  unrivalled and unequalled. The original work contains only 314
+  short sentences; the last edition he published contains 541; but
+  when one examines the exquisite workmanship of his style, one
+  does not wonder that it represents the labour of twenty years. La
+  Rochefoucauld (see Vol. X, p. 203) is one of the greatest masters
+  of French prose, as well as one of the great masters of cynicism.
+  He has exerted a deep influence both on English and French
+  literature, and Swift and Byron were among his disciples.
+
+
+_I.--Of Love and of Women_
+
+To judge love by most of its effects, it seems more like hatred than
+kindness.
+
+In love we often doubt of what we most believe.
+
+As long as we love, we forgive.
+
+Love is like fire, it cannot be without continual motion; as soon as it
+ceases to hope or fear it ceases to exist.
+
+Many persons would never have been in love had they never heard talk of
+it.
+
+Agreeable and pleasant as love is, it pleases more by the manners in
+which it shows itself than by itself alone.
+
+We pass on from love to ambition; we seldom return from ambition to
+love.
+
+Those who have had a great love affair find themselves all their life
+happy and unhappy at being cured of it.
+
+In love the one who is first cured is best cured.
+
+The reason why lovers are never weary of talking of each other is that
+they are always talking of themselves.
+
+Constancy in love is a perpetual inconstancy which makes our heart
+attach itself in succession to all the qualities of our beloved, and
+prefer, now this trait and now that; so that this constancy is only a
+kind of inconstancy fixed and enclosed in a single object.
+
+If there is a love pure and exempt from all mixture with our other
+passions, it is that which is hidden in the depth of our heart and
+unknown to ourselves.
+
+The pleasure of love consists in loving, and our own passion gives us
+more happiness than the feelings which our beloved has for us.
+
+The grace of novelty is to love like the fine bloom on fruit; it gives
+it a lustre which is easily effaced and never recovered.
+
+We are nearer loving those who hate us than those who love us more than
+we desire.
+
+Women often fancy themselves to be in love when they are not. Their
+natural passion for being beloved, their unwillingness to give a
+denial, the excitement of mind produced by an affair of gallantry, all
+these make them imagine they are in love when they are in fact only
+coquetting.
+
+All women are flirts. Some are restrained by timidity and some by
+reason.
+
+The greatest miracle of love is the reformation of a coquette.
+
+A coquette pretends to be jealous of her lover, in order to conceal her
+envy of other women.
+
+Most women yield more from weakness than from passion, hence an
+enterprising man usually succeeds with them better than an amiable man.
+
+It is harder for women to overcome their coquetry than their love. No
+woman knows how much of a coquette she is.
+
+Women who are in love more readily forgive great indiscretions than
+small infidelities.
+
+Some people are so full of themselves that even when they become lovers
+they find a way of being occupied with their passion without being
+interested in the person whom they love.
+
+It is useless to be young without being beautiful, or beautiful without
+being young.
+
+In their first love affairs women love their lover; in all others they
+love love.
+
+In the old age of love, as in the old age of life, we continue to live
+to pain long after we have ceased to live to pleasure.
+
+There is no passion in which self-love reigns so powerfully as in love;
+we are always more ready to sacrifice the repose of a person we love
+than to lose our own.
+
+There is a certain kind of love which, as it grows excessive, leaves no
+room for jealousy.
+
+Jealousy is born with love, but it does not always die with it.
+
+Jealousy is the greatest of all afflictions, and that which least
+excites pity in the persons that cause it.
+
+In love and in friendship we are often happier by reason of the things
+that we do not know than by those that we do.
+
+There are few women whose merit lasts longer than their beauty.
+
+The reason why most women are little touched by friendship is that
+friendship is insipid to those who have felt what love is.
+
+
+_II.--Friendship_
+
+In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find something that
+does not displease us.
+
+Rare as true love is, it is less rare than true friendship.
+
+What makes us so changing in our friendships is that it is difficult to
+discern the qualities of the soul, and easy to recognize the qualities
+of the mind.
+
+It is equally difficult to have a friendship for those whom we do not
+esteem as for those we esteem more than ourselves.
+
+We love those who admire us, not those whom we admire.
+
+Most of the friendships of the world ill deserve the name of
+friendship; still, a man may make occasional use of them, as in a
+business where the profits are uncertain and it is usual to be cheated.
+
+It is more dishonourable to mistrust a friend than to be deceived by
+him.
+
+We are fond of exaggerating the love our friends bear us, but it is
+less from a feeling of gratitude than from a desire to advertise our
+own merits.
+
+What usually hinders us from revealing the depths of our hearts to
+our friends is not so much the distrust which we have of them as the
+distrust that we have of ourselves.
+
+We confess our little defects merely to persuade our friends that we
+have no great failings.
+
+The greatest effort of friendship is not to show our defects to a
+friend, but to make him see his own.
+
+Sincerity is an opening of the heart. It is found in exceedingly few
+people, and what passes for it is only a subtle dissimulation used to
+attract confidence.
+
+We can love nothing except in relation to ourselves, and we merely
+follow our own bent and pleasure when we prefer our friends to
+ourselves; yet it is only by this preference that friendship can be
+made true and perfect.
+
+It seems as if self-love is the dupe of kindness and that it is
+forgotten while we are working for the benefit of other men. In this
+case, however, our self-love is merely taking the safest road to arrive
+at its ends; it is lending at usury under the pretext of giving, it is
+aiming at winning all the world by subtle and delicate means.
+
+The first impulses of joy excited in us by the good fortune of our
+friends proceed neither from our good nature nor from the friendship
+we have for them; it is an effect of self-love that flatters us with
+the hope either of being fortunate in our turn or of drawing some
+advantage from their prosperity.
+
+What makes us so eager to form new acquaintances is not the mere
+pleasure of change or a weariness of old friendships, so much as a
+disgust at not being enough admired by those who know us too well, and
+a hope of winning more admiration from persons who do not know much
+about us.
+
+
+_III.--Things of the Mind_
+
+The mind is always the dupe of the heart. Those who are acquainted with
+their own mind are not acquainted with their own heart.
+
+The mind is more indolent than the body.
+
+It is the mark of fine intellects to explain many things in a few
+words; little minds have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing.
+
+We speak but little when vanity does not make us speak.
+
+A spirit of confidence helps on conversation more than brilliance of
+mind does.
+
+True eloquence consists of saying all that is necessary, and nothing
+more.
+
+A man may be witty and still be a fool; judgment is the source of
+wisdom.
+
+A man does not please for very long when he has but one kind of wit.
+
+It is a mistake to imagine that wit and judgment are two distinct
+things; judgment is only the perfection of wit, which pierces into the
+recesses of things and there perceives what from the outside seems to
+be imperceptible.
+
+A man of intelligence would often be at a loss were it not for the
+company of fools.
+
+It is not so much fertility of mind that leads us to discover many
+expedients in regard to a single matter, as a defect of intelligence,
+that makes us stop at everything presented to our imagination, and
+hinders us from discerning at once which is the best course.
+
+Some old men like to give good advice to console themselves for being
+no longer in a state to give a bad example.
+
+No man of sound good sense strikes us as such unless he is of our way
+of thinking.
+
+Stiffness of opinion comes from pettiness of mind; we do not easily
+believe in anything that is beyond our range of vision.
+
+Good taste is based on judgment rather than on intelligence.
+
+It is more often through pride than through any want of enlightenment
+that men set themselves stubbornly to oppose the most current opinions;
+finding all the best places taken on the popular side, they do not want
+those in the rear.
+
+In order to understand things well one must know the detail of them;
+and as this is almost infinite, our knowledge is always superficial and
+imperfect.
+
+It is never so difficult to talk well as when we are ashamed of our
+silence.
+
+The excessive pleasure we feel in talking about ourselves ought to make
+us apprehensive that we afford little to our listeners.
+
+Truth has not done so much good in the world as the false appearances
+of it have done harm.
+
+Man's chief wisdom consists in being sensible of his follies.
+
+
+_IV.--Human Life and Human Nature_
+
+Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of reason.
+
+The passions of youth are scarcely more opposed to salvation than the
+lukewarmness of old persons.
+
+There is not enough material in a fool to make a good man out of him.
+
+We have more strength than will, and it is often to excuse ourselves to
+ourselves that we imagine things are impossible.
+
+There are few things impossible in themselves; it is the application to
+achieve them that we lack more than the means.
+
+It is a mistake to imagine that only the more violent passions, such as
+ambition and love, can triumph over the rest. Idleness often masters
+them all. It indeed influences all our designs and actions, and
+insensibly destroys both our vices and our virtues.
+
+Idleness is of all our passions that which is most unknown to
+ourselves. It is the most ardent and the most malign of all, though we
+do not feel its working, and the harm which it does is hidden. If we
+consider its power attentively, we shall see that in every struggle it
+triumphs over our feelings, our interests, and our pleasures. To give a
+true idea of this passion it is necessary to add that idleness is like
+a beatitude of the soul which consoles it for all its losses and serves
+in place of all its wealth.
+
+The gratitude of most men is only a secret desire to receive greater
+favours.
+
+We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits than those from
+whom we receive them.
+
+It is less dangerous to do harm to most men than to do them too much
+good.
+
+If we had no defects ourselves we should not take so much pleasure in
+observing the failings of others.
+
+One man may be more cunning than another man, but he cannot be more
+cunning than all the world.
+
+Mankind has made a virtue of moderation in order to limit the ambition
+of great men and to console mediocre people for their scanty fortune
+and their scanty merit.
+
+We should often be ashamed of our finest actions if the world saw all
+the motives that produced them.
+
+Our desire to speak of ourselves, and to reveal our defects in the
+best light in which we can show them, constitutes a great part of our
+sincerity.
+
+The shame that arises from undeserved praise often leads us to do
+things which we should not otherwise have attempted.
+
+The labours of the body free us from the pains of the mind. It is this
+that constitutes the happiness of the poor.
+
+It is more necessary to study men than to study books.
+
+The truly honest man is he who sets no value on himself.
+
+Censorious as the world is, it is oftener favourable to false merit
+than unjust to true.
+
+It is not enough to possess great qualities; we must know how to use
+them.
+
+He who lives without folly is not so wise as he fancies.
+
+Good manners are the least of all laws and the most strictly observed.
+
+Everybody complains of a lack of memory, nobody of a lack of judgment.
+
+The love of justice is nothing more than a fear of injustice.
+
+Passion often makes a fool of a man of sense, and sometimes it makes a
+fool a man of sense.
+
+Nature seems to have hidden in the depth of our minds a skill and a
+talent of which we are ignorant; only our passions are able to bring
+them out and to give us sometimes surer and more complete views than we
+could arrive at by thought and study.
+
+Our passions are the only orators with an unfailing power of
+persuasion. They are an art of nature with infallible rules, and the
+simplest man who is possessed by passion is far more persuasive than
+the most eloquent speaker who is not moved by feeling.
+
+As we grow old we grow foolish as well as wise.
+
+Few people know how to grow old.
+
+Death and the sun are things one cannot look at steadily.
+
+
+_V.--Virtues and Vices_
+
+Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue.
+
+Our vices are commonly disguised virtues.
+
+Virtue would not go far if vanity did not go with her.
+
+Prosperity is a stronger test of virtue than misfortune is.
+
+Men blame vice and praise virtue only through self-interest.
+
+Great souls are not those which have less passions and more virtues
+than common souls, but those which have larger ambitions.
+
+Of all our virtues one might say what an Italian poet has said of the
+honesty of women, "that it is often nothing but an art of pretending to
+be honest."
+
+Virtues are lost in self-interest, as rivers are in the sea.
+
+To the honour of virtue it must be acknowledged that the greatest
+misfortunes befall men from their vices.
+
+When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them.
+
+Feebleness is more opposed to vice than virtue is.
+
+What makes the pangs of shame and jealousy so sharp is that our vanity
+cannot help us to support them.
+
+What makes the vanity of other persons so intolerable is that it hurts
+our own.
+
+We have not the courage to say in general that we have no defects, and
+that our enemies have no good qualities; but in matters of detail we
+are not very far from believing it.
+
+If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others Would not injure
+us.
+
+We sometimes think we dislike flattery; we only dislike the way in
+which we are flattered.
+
+Flattery is a kind of bad money to which our vanity gives currency.
+
+Self-love, as it happens to be well or ill-conducted, constitutes
+virtue and vice.
+
+We are so prepossessed in our own favour that we often mistake for
+virtues those vices that bear some resemblance to them, and are
+artfully disguised by self-love.
+
+Nothing is so capable of lessening our self-love as the observation
+that we disapprove at one time what we approve at another.
+
+Self-love is the love of self, and of everything for the sake of self.
+When fortune gives the means, self-love makes men idolise themselves
+and tyrannise over others. It never rests or fixes itself anywhere
+outside its home. If it settle on external things, it is only as the
+bee does on flowers, to extract what may be serviceable. Nothing is so
+impetuous as its desires, nothing so secret as its designs, nothing so
+adroit as its conduct. We can neither fathom the depth, nor penetrate
+the obscurity of its abyss. There, concealed from the most piercing
+eye, it makes numberless turnings and windings; there is it often
+invisible even to itself; there it conceives, breeds, and cherishes,
+without being aware of it, an infinity of likings and hatreds; some
+of which are so monstrous that, having given birth to them, self-love
+either does not recognize them, or cannot bear to own them. From the
+darkness which covers self-love spring the ridiculous notions which it
+entertains of itself; thence its errors, ignorance, and silly mistakes;
+thence it imagines that its feelings are dead when they are but asleep;
+and thinks that it has lost all appetite when it is for the moment
+sated.
+
+But the thick mist which hides it from itself does not hinder it from
+seeing perfectly whatever is without; and thus it resembles the eye,
+that sees all things except itself. In great concerns and important
+affairs, where the violence of its desire excites its whole attention,
+it sees, perceives, understands, invents, suspects, penetrates, and
+divines all things; so that one is tempted to believe that each of its
+passions has its peculiar magic.
+
+Its desires are inflamed by itself rather than by the beauty and merit
+of the objects; its own taste heightens and embellishes them; itself
+is the game it pursues, and its own inclination is what is followed
+rather than the things which seem to be the objects of its inclination.
+Composed of contrarieties, it is imperious and obedient, sincere and
+hypocritical, merciful and cruel, timid and bold. Its desires tend,
+according to the diverse moods that direct it, sometimes to glory,
+sometimes to wealth, sometimes to pleasure. These are changed as age
+and experience alter; and whether it has many inclinations or only one
+is a matter of indifference, because it can split itself into many or
+collect itself into one just as is convenient or agreeable.
+
+It is inconstant; and numberless are the changes, besides those which
+happen from external causes, which proceed from its own nature.
+Inconstant through levity, through love, through novelty, through
+satiety, through disgust, through inconstancy itself. Capricious; and
+sometimes labouring with eagerness and incredible pains to obtain
+things that are in no way advantageous, nay, even hurtful, but which
+are pursued merely as a passion. Whimsical, and often exerting intense
+application in the most trifling employments; taking delight in the
+most insipid things, and preserving all its haughtiness in the most
+contemptible pursuits. Attendant on all ages and conditions; living
+everywhere; living on everything; living on nothing. Easy in either
+the enjoyment, or privation of things. Going over to those who are at
+variance with it; even entering into their schemes; and, wonderful!
+joining with them, it hates itself; conspires its own destruction;
+labours to be undone; desires only to exist; and, that granted,
+consents to be its own enemy.
+
+We are not therefore to be surprised if sometimes, uniting with the
+most rigid austerity, it enters boldly into a combination against
+itself; because what is lost in one respect is regained in another.
+When we think it relinquishes pleasures, it only suspends or changes
+them; and even when discomforted, and we seem to be rid of it, we
+find it triumphant in its own defeat. Such is self-love!--of which
+man's whole life is only a strong, a continued agitation. The sea
+is a striking image of it, and in the flux and reflux of the waves,
+self-love may find a lively expression of the turbulent succession of
+its thoughts, and of its eternal agitation.
+
+
+
+
+LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+Treatise on Painting
+
+  Leonardo Da Vinci was born in 1452 at Anchiano, near Vinci,
+  in Tuscany, the son of a Florentine notary. Trained in the
+  workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, he became one of the greatest
+  and most versatile artists of the Renaissance. Indeed, he must
+  be considered one of the master-minds of all times, for there
+  was scarcely a sphere of human knowledge in which he did not
+  excel and surpass his contemporaries. He was not only preeminent
+  as painter, sculptor, and architect, but was an accomplished
+  musician, poet, and improvisatore, an engineer--able to construct
+  canals, roads, fortifications, ships, and war-engines of every
+  description--an inventor of rare musical instruments, and a great
+  organiser of fêtes and pageants. Few of his artistic creations
+  have come down to us; but his profound knowledge of art and
+  science, and the wide range of his intellect are fully revealed
+  in the scattered leaves of his notebooks, which are now preserved
+  in the British Museum, the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, the
+  Ambrosiani in Milan, and other collections. The first edition of
+  the "Treatise on Painting" was a compilation from these original
+  notes, published at Paris in 1651. Leonardo died at Cloux on May
+  2, 1519.
+
+
+_From Da Vinci's Notebooks_
+
+The eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the principal means
+whereby our intelligence may most fully and splendidly comprehend the
+infinite works of nature; and the ear comes next, by gaining importance
+through hearing the things that have been perceived by the eye. If you
+historians or poets, or mathematicians, had not seen things with your
+eyes, badly would you describe them in your writings. If you, O poet,
+call painting dumb poetry, the painter might say of the poet's writing
+blind painting. Now consider, which taunt is more mordant--to be called
+blind or dumb?
+
+If the poet is as free in invention as the painter, yet his fiction
+is not as satisfying to mankind as is painting, for whereas poetry
+endeavours with words to represent forms, actions, and scenes, the
+painter's business is to imitate forms with the images of these very
+forms. Take the case of a poet, describing the beauties of a woman
+to her lover, and that of a painter depicting her; you will soon see
+whither nature will attract the enamoured judge. And should not the
+proof of things be the verdict of experience?
+
+If you say that poetry is more enduring, I may reply that the works
+of a coppersmith are more enduring still, since time has preserved
+them longer than your works or ours; yet they are less imaginative,
+and painting, if done with enamels on copper, can be made far more
+enduring. We, in our art, may be said to be grandsons unto God. If you
+despise painting, which is the sole imitator of all the visible works
+of nature, then you certainly despise a subtle invention which, with
+philosophical and ingenious reflection, considers all the properties of
+forms, airs, and scenes, trees, animals, grasses and flowers, which are
+surrounded by light and shade.
+
+And this is a science and the true-born daughter of nature, since
+painting is born of this self-same nature. But, in order to speak more
+correctly, let us call it the grandchild of nature, because all visible
+things are produced by nature, and from these same things is born
+painting. Wherefore we may rightly call it the grandchild of nature,
+related to God Himself.
+
+
+_How Sculpture is Less Intellectual_
+
+Being sculptor no less than painter, and practising both arts in the
+same degree, it seems to me that I may without arrogance pronounce how
+one of them is more intellectual, difficult, and perfect than the other.
+
+Firstly, sculpture is subject to a certain light--namely, from
+above--and painting carries everywhere with it light and shade. Light
+and shade are, therefore, the essentials in sculpture. In this respect
+the sculptor is aided by the nature of the relief, which produces these
+of its own accord; the painter introduces them by his art where nature
+would reasonably place them. The sculptor cannot reproduce the varying
+nature of the colours of objects; painting lacks nothing in this
+respect. The sculptor's perspectives never seem true, but the painter's
+lead the eye hundreds of miles into the work. Aerial perspective
+is alien to their work. They can neither represent transparent nor
+luminous bodies, neither reflected rays nor shiny surfaces like mirrors
+and similar glittering bodies; no mist, no dull sky, nor countless
+other things, which I refrain from mentioning to avoid getting
+wearisome. It has the advantage that it offers greater resistance to
+time, although enamels on copper fused in fire have equal power of
+resistance. Thus painting surpasses sculpture even in durability.
+
+Were you to speak only of painting on panels, I should be content to
+give the verdict against sculpture by saying: Whilst painting is more
+beautiful, more imaginative, and more resourceful, sculpture is more
+durable; and this is all that can be said for it. It reveals with
+little effort what it is. Painting seems a miraculous thing, making
+things intangible appear tangible, presenting flat objects in relief,
+and distant near at hand. Indeed, painting is adorned with endless
+possibilities that are not used by sculpture.
+
+Painters fight and compete with nature.
+
+
+_Of the Ten Offices of the Eye_
+
+Painting extends over all the ten offices of the eye--namely, darkness,
+light, body and colour, figure and scenery, distance and nearness,
+movement and repose--all of which offices will be woven through this
+little work of mine. For I will remind the painter by what rule and in
+what manner he shall use his art to imitate all these things, the work
+of nature and the ornament of the world.
+
+
+_Rule for Beginners in Painting_
+
+We know clearly that sight is one of the swiftest actions in existence,
+perceiving in one moment countless forms. Nevertheless, it cannot
+comprehend more than one thing at a time. Suppose, for instance, you,
+reader, were to cast a single glance upon this entire written page and
+were to decide at once that it is full of different letters; but you
+will not be able to recognize in this space of time either what letters
+they are or what they purport to say. Therefore, you must take word by
+word, verse by verse, in order to gain knowledge from these letters.
+Again, if you want to reach the summit of a building, you must submit
+to climbing step by step, else it would be impossible for you to reach
+the top. And so I say to you, whom nature inclines to this art, if you
+would have a true knowledge of the form of things, begin with their
+details, and don't pass on to the second before the first is well fixed
+in your memory, else you will waste your time.
+
+Perspective is the rein and rudder of painting.
+
+I say whatever is forced within a border is more difficult than what is
+free. Shadows have in certain degrees their borders, and he who ignores
+them cannot obtain roundness, which roundness is the essence and soul
+of painting. Drawing is free, since, if you see countless faces, they
+will all be different--the one has a long, the other a short nose. Thus
+the painter may take this liberty, and where is liberty, is no rule.
+
+
+_Precepts for Painting_
+
+The painter should endeavour to be universal, because he is lacking
+in dignity if he do one thing well and another thing badly, like so
+many who only study the well-proportionate nude and not its variations,
+because a man may be proportionate and yet be short and stout, or
+long and thin. And he who does not bear in mind these variations will
+get his figures stereotyped, so that they all seem to be brothers and
+sisters, which deserves to be censured severely.
+
+Let the sketching of histories be swift and the articulation not too
+perfect. Be satisfied with suggesting the position of the limbs, which
+you may afterwards carry to completion at your leisure and as you
+please.
+
+Methinks it is no small grace in a painter if he give a pleasing air
+to his figures, a grace which, if it be not one's own by nature, may
+be acquired by study, as follows. Try to take the best parts from many
+beautiful faces, whose beauty is affirmed by public fame rather than
+by your own judgment, for you may deceive yourself by taking faces
+which resemble your own. For it would often seem that such similarities
+please us; and if you were ugly you would not select beautiful faces,
+and you would make ugly ones, like many painters whose types often
+resemble their master. Therefore, take beautiful features, as I tell
+you, and commit them to your memory.
+
+Monstrous is he who has a very large head and short legs, and monstrous
+he who with rich garments has great poverty; therefore we shall call
+him well proportioned whose every part corresponds with his whole.
+
+
+_On the Choice of Light_
+
+If you had a courtyard, which you could cover at will with a canvas
+awning, this light would be good; or when you wish to paint somebody,
+paint him in bad weather, or at the hour of dusk, placing the sitter
+with his back to one of the walls of this courtyard.
+
+Observe in the streets at the fall of the evening the faces of men and
+women when it is bad weather, what grace and sweetness then appear to
+be theirs.
+
+Therefore, you should have a courtyard, prepared with walls painted in
+black, and with the roof projecting a little over the said wall. And it
+should be ten _braccia_ [ten fathoms] in width, and twenty in length
+and ten in height; and when the sun shines you should cover it over
+with the awning, or you should paint an hour before evening, when it is
+cloudy or misty. For this is the most perfect light.
+
+
+_Of the Gesture of Figures_
+
+You should give your figures such movement as will suffice to show
+what is passing in the mind of the figure; else your art would not be
+praiseworthy. A figure is not worthy of praise if it do not express by
+some gesture the passion of the soul. That figure is most worthy of
+praise which best expresses by its gesture the passion of its nature.
+
+If you have to represent an honest man talking, see that his action be
+companion to his good words; and again, if you have to depict a bestial
+man, give him wild movements--his arms thrown towards the spectator,
+and his head pressed towards his chest, his legs apart.
+
+
+_The Judgment of Painting_
+
+We know well that mistakes are more easily detected in the works of
+others than in one's own, and often, while censuring the small faults
+of others, you do not recognise your own great faults. In order to
+escape such ignorance, have a care that you be, above all, sure of your
+perspective; then acquire full knowledge of the proportions of man and
+other animals. And, moreover, be a good architect; that is, in so far
+as it is necessary for the form of the buildings and other things that
+are upon the earth, and that are infinitely varied in form.
+
+The more knowledge you have of these, the more worthy of praise will be
+your work. And for those things in which you have no practice, do not
+disdain to copy from nature. When you are painting, you should take a
+flat mirror and often look at your work within it. It will be seen in
+reverse, and will appear to be by some other master, and you will be
+better able to judge of its faults than in any other way. It is also a
+good plan every now and then to go away and have a little relaxation,
+for then, when you come back to the work, your judgment will be surer,
+since to remain constantly at work will cause you to lose the power of
+judgment.
+
+Surely, while one paints one should not reject any man's judgment; for
+we know very well that a man, even if he be no painter, has knowledge
+of the forms of another man, and will judge aright whether he is
+hump-backed, or has one shoulder too high or too low, or whether he has
+too large a mouth or nose, or other faults; and if we are able rightly
+to judge the work of nature in men, how much more is it fit to admit
+that they are able to judge our mistakes.
+
+You know how much man may be deceived about his own works, and if you
+do not know it of yourself, observe it in others, and you will derive
+benefit from other people's mistakes. Therefore, you should be eager
+to listen patiently to the views of other men and consider and reflect
+carefully whether he who finds fault is right or not in blaming you. If
+you find that he is right, correct your work; but if not, pretend not
+to have understood him; or show him, if he be a man whom you respect,
+by sound argument, why it is that he is mistaken in finding fault.
+
+
+_Do Not Disdain to Work from Nature_
+
+A master who let it be understood that his mind could retain all the
+forms and effects of nature, I should certainly hold to be endowed with
+great ignorance, since the said effects are infinite, and our memory is
+not of such capacity as to suffice thereto. Therefore, O painter, see
+that the greed for gain do not outweigh within you the honour of art,
+for to gain in honour is a far greater thing than to be honoured for
+wealth.
+
+For these and other reasons that might be adduced, you should endeavour
+first to demonstrate to the eye, by means of drawing, a suggestion
+of the intention and of the invention originated first by your
+imagination. Then proceed, taking from it or adding to it, until you
+are satisfied with it. Then have men arranged as models, draped or
+nude, in the manner in which they are disposed in your work, and make
+the proportions and size in accordance with perspective, so that no
+part of the work remains that is not counselled by reason as well as by
+nature.
+
+And this will be the way to make you honoured through your art. First
+of all, copy drawings by a good master made by his art from nature, and
+not as exercises; then from a relief, keeping by you a drawing done
+from the same relief; then from a good model, and of this you ought to
+make a general practice.
+
+
+_Of the Painter's Life in His Study_
+
+The painter or draughtsman should be solitary, so that physical comfort
+may not injure the thriving of the mind, especially when he is occupied
+with the observations and considerations which ever offer themselves to
+his eye and provide material to be treasured up by the memory. If you
+are alone, you belong wholly to yourself; and if you are accompanied
+even by one companion, you belong only half to yourself; and if you
+are with several of them, you will be even more subject to such
+inconveniences.
+
+And if you should say, "I shall take my own course, I shall keep apart,
+so that I may be the better able to contemplate the forms of natural
+objects," then I reply, this cannot well be, because you cannot help
+frequently lending your ear to their gossip; and since nobody can serve
+two masters at once, you will badly fulfil your duties as companion,
+and you will have worse success in artistic contemplation. And if you
+should say, "I shall keep so far apart that their words cannot reach me
+or disturb me," then I reply in this case that you will be looked upon
+as mad. And do you not perceive that, in acting thus, you would really
+be solitary?
+
+
+_Of Ways to Represent Various Scenes_
+
+A man in despair you should make turning his knife against himself. He
+should have rent his garments, and he should be in the act of tearing
+open his wound with one hand. And you should make him with his feet
+apart and his legs somewhat bent, and the whole figure likewise bending
+to the ground, with dishevelled and untidy hair.
+
+As a rule, he whom you wish to represent talking to many people will
+consider the subject of which he has to treat, and will fit his
+gestures to this subject--that is to say, if the subject is persuasion,
+the gestures should serve this intention; if the subject is explanation
+by various reasons, he who speaks should take a finger of his left hand
+between two fingers of his right, keeping the two smaller ones pressed
+together; his face should be animated and turned towards the people,
+his mouth slightly opened, so that he seems to be talking. And if he
+is seated, let him seem to be in the act of slightly raising himself,
+with his head forward; and if he is standing, make him lean forward
+a little, with his head towards the people, whom you should represent
+silent and attentive, all watching, with gestures of admiration, the
+orator's face. Some old men should have their mouths drawn down at the
+corners in astonishment at what they hear, drawing back the cheeks in
+many furrows, and raising their eyebrows where they meet, so as to
+produce many wrinkles on their foreheads. Some who are seated should
+hold their tired knees between the interlaced fingers of their hands,
+and others should cross one knee over the other, and place upon it one
+hand, so that its hollow supports the other elbow, whose hand again
+supports the bearded chin.
+
+Whatever is wholly deprived of light is complete darkness. Night being
+in this condition, if you wish to represent a scene therein, you must
+contrive to have a great fire in this night, and everything that is in
+closer proximity to this fire will assume more of its colour, because
+the nearer a thing is to another object, the more it partakes of its
+nature. And since you will make the fire incline towards a red colour,
+you will have to give a reddish tinge to all things lighted by it, and
+those which are farther away from the fire will have to hold more of
+the black colour of night. The figures which are between you and the
+fire appear dark against the brightness of the flame, for that part of
+the object which you perceive is coloured by the darkness of night,
+and not by the brightness of the fire; and those which flank the fire
+will be half dark and half reddish. Those which are behind the flames
+will be altogether illuminated by a reddish light against the black
+background.
+
+If you wish to represent a tempest properly, observe and set down the
+effects of the wind blowing over the face of the sea and of the land,
+raising and carrying away everything that is not firmly rooted in the
+general mass. And in order properly to represent this tempest, you
+should first of all show the riven and torn clouds swept along by the
+wind, together with the sandy dust blown up from the seashore, and with
+branches and leaves caught up and scattered through the air, together
+with many other light objects, by the power of the furious wind. The
+trees and shrubs, bent to the ground, seem to desire to follow the
+direction of the wind, with branches twisted out of their natural
+growth, and their foliage tossed and inverted.
+
+Of the men who are present, some who are thrown down and entangled with
+their garments and covered with dust should be almost unrecognisable;
+and those who are left standing may be behind some tree which they
+embrace, so that the storm should not carry them off. Others, bent
+down, their garments and hair streaming in the wind, should hold their
+hands before their eyes because of the dust.
+
+Let the turbulent and tempestuous sea be covered with eddying foam
+between the rising waves, and let the wind carry fine spray into the
+stormy air to resemble a thick and all-enveloping mist. Of the ships
+that are there, show some with rent sails, whose shreds should flap in
+the air, together with some broken halyards; masts splintered, tumbled,
+with the ship itself broken by the fury of the waves; some human
+beings, shrieking, and clinging to the wreckage of the vessel. You
+should show the clouds, chased by the impetuous wind, hurled against
+the high tops of the mountains, wreathing and eddying like waves that
+beat against the cliffs. The air should strike terror through the murky
+darkness caused by the dust, the mist, and the heavy clouds.
+
+
+_To Learn to Work from Memory_
+
+If you want properly to commit to your memory something that you
+have learnt, proceed in this manner--namely, when you have drawn one
+object so often that you believe you can remember it, try to draw it
+without the model, after having traced your model on a thin sheet of
+glass. This glass you will then lay upon the drawing which you have
+made without model. Observe well where the tracing does not tally with
+your drawing, and wherever you find that you have gone wrong, you must
+remember not to go wrong again. You should even return to the model,
+in order again to draw the wrong passage until it shall be fixed in
+your memory. And if you have no level sheet of glass for tracing, take
+a very thin sheet of goat-parchment, well oiled, and then dried. And
+after the tracing has done service for your drawing, you can efface it
+with a sponge and use it again for another tracing.
+
+
+_On Studying in Bed_
+
+I have experienced upon myself that it is of no small benefit if, when
+you are in bed, you apply your imagination to repeating the superficial
+lines of the forms which you have been studying, or to other remarkable
+things which are comprehensible to a fine intellect. This is a
+praiseworthy and useful action which will help you to fix things in
+your memory.
+
+
+
+
+GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING
+
+Laocoon
+
+  In 1766, while acting as secretary to the governor of Breslau,
+  Lessing wrote his celebrated "Laocoon," a critical treatise
+  defining the limits of poetry and the plastic arts. The epitome
+  given here has been prepared from the German text. A short
+  biographical sketch of Lessing appears in the introduction to his
+  play, "Nathan the Wise," appearing in Volume XVII of THE WORLD'S
+  GREATEST BOOKS.
+
+
+_I.--On the Limits of Painting and Poetry_
+
+Winkelman has pronounced a noble simplicity and quiet grandeur,
+displayed in the posture no less than in the expression, to be the
+characteristic feature common to all the Greek masterpieces of painting
+and sculpture. "As," says he, "the depths of the sea always remain
+calm, however violently the surface may rage, so the expression in the
+figures of the Greeks, under every form of passion, shows a great and
+self-collected soul.
+
+"This spirit is portrayed in the countenance of Laocoon, but not in
+the countenance alone. Even under the most violent suffering the
+pain discovers itself in every muscle and sinew of his body, and the
+beholder, while looking at the agonised conditions of the stomach,
+without viewing the face and other parts, believes that he almost feels
+the pain himself. The pain expresses itself without any violence, both
+in the features and in the whole posture. Laocoon suffers, but he
+suffers as the Philoctetes of Sophocles. His misery pierces us to the
+very soul, but inspires us with a wish that we could endure misery like
+that great man.
+
+"The expressing of so great a soul is far higher than the painting of
+beautiful nature. The artist must feel within himself that strength of
+spirit which he would imprint on his marble. Greece had philosophers
+and artists in one person. Philosophy gave her hand to art, and
+inspired its figures with no ordinary souls."
+
+The above remarks are founded on the argument that "the pain in
+the face of Laocoon does not show itself with that force which its
+intensity would have led us to expect." This is correct. But I confess
+I differ from Winkelman as to what, in his opinion, is the basis of
+this wisdom, and as to the universality of the rule which he deduces
+from it. I acknowledge I was startled, first by the glances of
+disapproval which he casts on Virgil, and, secondly, by the comparison
+with Philoctetes. From this point I shall begin, writing down my
+thoughts as they were developed in me.
+
+"Laocoon suffers as does the Philoctetes of Sophocles." But how does
+this last suffer? It is curious that his sufferings should leave such a
+different impression behind them. The cries and mild imprecations with
+which he filled the camp and interrupted the sacrifices echoed through
+the desolate island. The same sounds of despair fill the theatre in the
+poet's imitation.
+
+A cry is the natural expression of bodily pain. Homer's wounded heroes
+frequently fall to the ground with cries. They are in their actions
+beings of higher order; in their feelings, true men.
+
+We more civilised and refined Europeans of a wiser and later age are
+forbidden to cry and weep, and even our ancestors were taught to
+suppress lamentation at loss, and to die laughing under the bites of
+adders. Not so the Greeks. They felt and feared, and gave utterance to
+pain and sorrow, only nothing must hold them back from duty.
+
+Now for my inference. If it be true that, a cry at the sensation of
+bodily pain, according to the old Greek way of thinking, is quite
+compatible with greatness of soul, it cannot have been for the sake of
+expressing such greatness that the artist avoided imitating his shriek
+in marble. Another reason must be found for his deviation from his
+rival, the poet, who has expressed it with the happiest results.
+
+Be it fable or history, it is love that made the first essay in the
+plastic arts, and never wearied of guiding the hands of the masters
+of old. Painting now may be defined generally as "the imitation of
+bodies of matter on a level surface"; but the wise Greek allotted for
+it narrower limits, and confined it to imitations of the beautiful
+only; his artists painted nothing else. It was the perfection of their
+work that absorbed them. Among the ancients beauty was the highest
+law of the plastic arts. To beauty everything was subordinated. There
+are passions by which all beautiful physical lines are lost through
+the distortion of the body, but from all such emotions the ancient
+masters abstained entirely. Rage and despair disgrace none of their
+productions, and I dare maintain that they never painted a fury.
+
+Indignation was softened down to seriousness. Grief was lessened into
+mournfulness. All know how Timanthes in his painting of the sacrifice
+of Iphigenia shows the sorrow of the bystanders, but has concealed
+the face of the father, who should show it more than all. He left to
+conjecture what he might not paint. This concealment is a sacrifice to
+beauty by the artist, and it shows how art's first law is the law of
+beauty.
+
+Now apply this to Laocoon. The master aimed at the highest beauty
+compatible with the adopted circumstances of bodily pain. He must
+soften shrieks into sighs. For only imagine the mouth of Laocoon to be
+forced open, and then judge.
+
+But art in modern times has been allowed a far wider sphere. It has
+been affirmed that its limitations extend over the whole of visible
+nature, of which the beautiful is but a small part. And as nature is
+ever ready to sacrifice beauty to higher aims, so should the artist
+render it subordinate to his general design. But are there not
+other considerations which compel the artist to put certain limits
+to expression, and prevent him from ever drawing it at its highest
+intensity?
+
+I believe that the fact that it is to a single moment that the material
+limits of art confine all its limitations, will lead us to similar
+views.
+
+If the artist out of ever-varying nature can only make use of a single
+moment, while his works are meant to stand the test not only of a
+passing glance, but of a long and repeated contemplation, it is clear
+that this moment cannot be chosen too happily. Now that only is a
+happy choice which allows the imagination free scope. In the whole
+course of a feeling there is no moment which possesses this advantage
+so little as its highest stage. There is nothing beyond this, and the
+presentation of extremes to the eye clips the wings of fancy, prevents
+her from soaring beyond the impression of the senses, and compels
+her to occupy herself with weaker images. Thus if Laocoon sighs, the
+imagination can hear him shriek; but if he shrieks, it can neither
+rise above nor descend below this representation without seeing him
+in a condition which, as it will be more endurable, becomes less
+interesting. It either hears him merely moaning, or sees him already
+dead.
+
+Of the frenzied Ajax of Timomachus we can form some judgment from the
+account of Philoctetes. Ajax does not appear raging among herds and
+slaughtering cattle instead of men; but the master exhibits him sitting
+wearied with these deeds of insanity, and that is really the raging
+Ajax. We can form the most lively idea of the extremity of his frenzy
+from the shame and despair which he himself feels at the thought of it.
+We see the storm in the wrecks and corpses which it had strewn on the
+beach.
+
+
+_II.--The Poet_
+
+Perhaps hardly any of the above remarks concerning the necessary limits
+of the artist would be found equally applicable to poetry. It is
+undeniable that the whole realm of the perfectly excellent lies open
+to the imitation of the poet, that excellence of outward form which we
+call beauty being only one of the least of the means by which he can
+interest us in his characters.
+
+Moreover, the poet is not compelled to concentrate his picture into
+a single moment. He can take up every action of his hero at its
+source, and pursue it to its issue through all possible variations.
+Each of these, which would cost the artist a separate work, costs the
+poet but a single trait. What wonderful skill has Sophocles shown in
+strengthening and enlarging, in his tragedy of Philoctetes, the idea
+of bodily pain! He chose a wound, and not an internal malady, because
+the former admits of a more lively representation than the latter.
+This wound was, moreover, a punishment divinely decreed. But to the
+Greeks a wound from a poisoned arrow was but an ordinary incident. Why,
+then, in the case of Philoctetes only was it followed by such dreadful
+consequences?
+
+Sophocles felt full well that, however great he made the bodily pain to
+his hero, it would not have sufficed of itself to excite any remarkable
+degree of sympathy. He therefore combined it with other evils--the
+complete lack of society, hunger, and all the hardships to which such a
+man under terrible privations is exposed when cast on a wild, deserted
+isle of the Cyclades.
+
+Imagine, now, a man in these conditions, but give him health and
+strength and industry, and he becomes a Crusoe, whose lot, though not
+indifferent to us, has no great claim on our sympathy. On the other
+hand, imagine a man afflicted by a painful and incurable disease, but
+at the same time surrounded by kind friends. For him we should feel
+sympathy, yet this would not endure throughout. Only when both cases
+are combined do we see nothing but despair, which excites our amazement
+and horror. Typical beauty arises from the harmonious effect of
+numerous parts, all of which the sight is capable of comprehending at
+the same time. It requires, therefore, that these parts should lie near
+each other; and since things whose parts lie near each other are the
+peculiar objects of plastic beauty, these it is, and these only, which
+can imitate typical beauty. The poet, since he can only exhibit in
+succession its component parts, entirely abstains from the description
+of typical beauty. He feels that these parts, ranged one after the
+other, cannot possibly have the effect they produce when closely
+arranged together.
+
+In this respect Homer is a pattern of patterns. He says Nireus was
+beautiful, Achilles still more so, Helen was endowed with divine
+beauty. But nowhere does he enter on a detailed sketch of these
+beauties, and yet the whole Iliad is based on the loveliness of Helen.
+
+In this point, in which he can imitate Homer by merely doing nothing,
+Virgil is also tolerably happy. His heroine Dido, too, is never
+anything more than _pulcherrima_ Dido (loveliest Dido). When he wishes
+to be more circumstantial, he is so in the description of her rich
+dress and apparel.
+
+Lucian, also, was too acute to convey any idea of the body of Panthea
+otherwise than by reference to the most lovely female statues of the
+old artists.
+
+Yet what is this but the acknowledgment that language by itself is
+here without power; that poetry falters and eloquence grows speechless
+unless art in some measure serve them as an interpreter?
+
+But, it will be said, does not poetry lose too much if we deprive
+her of all objects of typical beauty? Who would deprive her of them?
+Because we would debar her from wandering among the footsteps of her
+sister art, without ever reaching the same goal as she, do we exclude
+her from every other, where art in her turn must gaze after her steps
+with fruitless longings?
+
+Even Homer, who so pointedly abstains from all detailed descriptions
+of typical beauties, from whom we but just learn that Helen had white
+arms and lovely hair, even he, with all this, knew how to convey to us
+an idea of her beauty which far exceeds anything that art is able to
+accomplish.
+
+
+_III.--Beauty and Charm_
+
+Again, another means which poetry possesses of rivalling art in the
+description of typical beauty is the change of beauty into charm.
+Charm is beauty in motion, and is for this very reason less suitable
+to the painter than to the poet. The painter can only leave motion to
+conjecture, while in fact his figures are motionless. Consequently,
+with him charm becomes grimace.
+
+But in poetry it remains what it is, a transitory beauty which we would
+gladly see repeated. It comes and goes, and since we can generally
+recall to our minds a movement more easily and vividly than forms
+or colours, charm necessarily in the same circumstances produces a
+stronger effect than beauty.
+
+Zeuxis painted a Helen, and had the courage to write below the picture
+those renowned lines of Homer in which the enraptured elders confess
+their sensations. Never had painting and poetry been engaged in such
+contest. The contest remained undecided, and both deserved the crown.
+
+For just as a wise poet showed us the beauty which he felt he could not
+paint according to its constituent parts, but merely in its effect, so
+the no less wise painter showed us that beauty by nothing but those
+parts, deeming it unbecoming for his art to resort to any other means
+for aid. His picture consisted of a single figure, undraped, of Helen,
+probably the one painted for the people of Crotona.
+
+In beauty a single unbecoming part may disturb the harmonious effect
+of many, without the object necessarily becoming ugly. For ugliness,
+too, requires several unbecoming parts, all of which we must be able
+to comprehend at the same view before we experience sensations the
+opposite of those which beauty produces.
+
+According to this, therefore, ugliness in its essence could be no
+subject of poetry; yet Homer has painted extreme ugliness in Thersites,
+and this ugliness is described according to its parts near each other.
+Why in the case of ugliness did he allow himself the license from which
+he had abstained in that of beauty? A successive enumeration of the
+elements of beauty will annihilate its effects. Will not a similar
+cause produce a similar effect in the case of ugliness?
+
+Undoubtedly it will; but it is in this very fact that the justification
+of Homer lies. The poet can only take advantage of ugliness so far as
+it is reduced in his description into the less repugnant appearance of
+bodily imperfection, and ceases, as it were, in point of effect, to be
+ugliness. Thus, what he cannot make use of by itself he can use as the
+ingredient for the purpose of producing and strengthening certain mixed
+sensations.
+
+These mixed feelings are the ridiculous and the horrible. Homer makes
+Thersites ugly in order to make him ridiculous. He is not made so,
+however, merely by his ugliness, for ugliness is an imperfection, and
+the contrast of perfection with imperfections is required to produce
+the ridiculous. To this I may add that the contrast must not be too
+sharp and glaring, and that the contrasts must blend into each other.
+
+The wise and virtuous Æsop does not become ridiculous because of
+ugliness attributed to him. For his misshapen body and beautiful
+mind are as oil and vinegar; however much you shake them together,
+they always remain distinct to the taste. They will not amalgamate
+to produce a third quality. The body produces annoyance; the soul,
+pleasure; each has its own effect.
+
+It is only when the deformed body is also fragile and, sickly, when it
+impedes the soul, that the annoyance and pleasure melt into each other.
+
+For, let us suppose that the instigations of the malicious and snarling
+Thersites had resulted in mutiny, that the people had forsaken their
+leaders and departed in the ships, and that these leaders had been
+massacred by a revengeful foe. How would the ugliness of Thersites
+appear then? If ugliness, when harmless, may be ridiculous, when
+hurtful it is always horrible. In Shakespeare's "King Lear," Edmund,
+the bastard Count of Gloucester, is no less a villain than Richard,
+Duke of Gloucester, in "King Richard III." How is it, then, that the
+first excites our loathing so much less than the second? It is because
+when I hear the former, I listen to a devil, but see him as an angel of
+light; but in listening to Richard I hear a devil and see a devil.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN STUART MILL
+
+Essay on Liberty
+
+  Ten years elapsed between the publication of "Political Economy"
+  (see Vol. XIV, p. 294) and the "Essay on Liberty," Mill in the
+  meantime (1851) having married Mrs. John Taylor, a lady who
+  exercised no small influence on his philosophical position.
+  The seven years of his married life saw little or nothing from
+  his pen. The "Essay on Liberty," in many respects the most
+  carefully prepared of all his books, appeared in 1859, the
+  year following the death of his wife, in collaboration with
+  whom it was thought out and partly written. The treatise goes
+  naturally with that on "Utilitarianism." Both are succinct and
+  incisive in their reasoning, and both are grounded on similar
+  sociological principles. Perhaps the primary problem of politics
+  in all ages has been the reconciliation of individual and social
+  interests; and at the present day, when the problem appears to
+  be particularly troublesome, Mill's view of the situation is
+  of especial value. In recent time, legislation has certainly
+  tended to become more socialistic, and the doctrine of individual
+  liberty promulgated in this "Essay" has a most interesting
+  relevancy to modern social movements.
+
+
+_I.--Liberty of Thought and Discussion_
+
+Protection against popular government is as indispensable as protection
+against political despotism. The people may desire to oppress a part
+of their number, and precautions are needed against this as against
+any other abuse of power. So much will be readily granted by most, and
+yet no attempt has been made to find the fitting adjustment between
+individual independence and social control.
+
+The object of this essay is to assert the simple principle that the
+sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively,
+in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number
+is self-protection--that the only purpose for which power can be
+rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community,
+against his will, is to prevent harm to others, either by his action
+or inaction. The only part of the conduct of anyone for which he is
+amenable to society is that which concerns others. In the part which
+merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over
+himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.
+
+This principle requires, firstly, liberty of conscience in the most
+comprehensive sense, liberty of thought and feeling; absolute freedom
+of opinion and sentiment on all subjects, practical or speculative,
+scientific, moral, or theological--the liberty even of publishing
+and expressing opinions. Secondly, the principle requires liberty
+of tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to suit
+our own character; of doing as we like, so long as we do not harm
+our fellow-creatures. Thirdly, the principle requires liberty of
+combination among individuals for any purpose not involving harm to
+others, provided the persons are of full age and not forced or deceived.
+
+The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own
+good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others
+of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Mankind gains more
+by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves than by
+compelling each to live as seems good to the rest.
+
+Coercion in matters of thought and discussion must always be
+illegitimate. If all mankind save one were of one opinion, mankind
+would be no more justified in silencing the solitary individual than
+he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. The
+peculiar evil of silencing the expression of opinion is that it is
+robbing the whole human race, present and future--those who dissent
+from the opinion even more than those who hold it. For if the opinion
+is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for
+truth; and if wrong, they lose the clear and livelier impression of
+truth produced by its collision with error.
+
+All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility, and,
+as all history teaches, neither communities nor individuals are
+infallible. Men cannot be too often reminded of the condemnation of
+Socrates and of Christ, and of the persecution of the Christians by the
+noble-minded Marcus Aurelius.
+
+Enemies of religious freedom maintain that persecution is a good thing,
+for, even though it makes mistakes, it will root out error while it
+cannot extirpate truth. But history shows that even if truth cannot be
+finally extirpated, it may at least be put back centuries.
+
+We no longer put heretics to death; but we punish heresies with a
+social stigma almost as effective, since it may debar men from earning
+their bread. Social intolerance does not actually eradicate heresies,
+but it induces men to hide unpopular opinions. The result is that new
+and heretical opinions smoulder in the narrow circles of thinking and
+studious persons who originate them, and never light up the general
+affairs of mankind with either a true or deceptive light. The price
+paid for intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral
+courage of the human race. Who can compute what the world loses in the
+multitude of promising intellects too timid to follow out any bold,
+independent train of thought lest it might be considered irreligious
+or immoral? No one can be a great thinker who does not follow his
+intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. In a general atmosphere
+of mental slavery a few great thinkers may survive, but in such an
+atmosphere there never has been, and never will be, an intellectually
+active people; and all progress in the human mind and in human
+institutions may be traced to periods of mental emancipation.
+
+Even if an opinion be indubitably true and undoubtingly believed, it
+will be a dead dogma, and not a living truth, if it be not fully,
+frequently, and fearlessly discussed. If the cultivation of the
+understanding consists of one thing more than another, it is surely in
+learning the grounds of one's own opinions, and these can only be fully
+learned by facing the arguments that favour the opposite opinions. He
+who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. Unless he
+knows the difficulties which his truth has to encounter and conquer,
+he knows little of the force of his truth. Not only are the grounds of
+an opinion unformed or forgotten in the absence of discussion, but too
+often the very meaning of the opinion. When the mind is not compelled
+to exercise its powers on the questions which its belief presents to
+it, there is a progressive tendency to forget all of the belief except
+the formularies, until it almost ceases to connect itself at all with
+the inner life of the human being. In such cases a creed merely stands
+sentinel at the entrance of the mind and heart to keep them empty,
+as is so often seen in the case of the Christian creed as at present
+professed.
+
+So far we have considered only two possibilities--that the received
+opinion may be false and some other opinion consequently true, or that,
+the received opinion being true, a conflict with the opposite error is
+essential to a clear apprehension and deep feeling of the truth. But
+there is a commoner case still, when conflicting doctrines share the
+truth, and when the heretical doctrine completes the orthodox. Every
+opinion which embodies somewhat of the portion of the truth which the
+common opinion omits, ought to be considered precious with whatever
+amount of error and confusion it may be conjoined. In politics,
+again, it is almost a commonplace that a party of order or stability,
+and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary factors in a
+healthy political life. Unless opinions favourable to democracy and
+to aristocracy, to property, and to equality, to co-operation and to
+competition, to sociality and to individuality, to liberty and to
+discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms of practical life
+are expressed with equal freedom, and enforced and defended with equal
+talent and energy, there is no chance of both elements obtaining their
+due. Truth is usually reached only by the rough process of a struggle
+between combatants fighting under hostile banners.
+
+It may be objected, "But _some_ received principles, especially on
+the highest and most vital subjects, are more than half-truths."
+This objection is not sound. Even the Christian morality is, in many
+important points, incomplete and one-sided, and unless ideas and
+feelings not sanctioned by it had constituted to the formation of
+European life and character, human affairs would have been in a worse
+condition than they now are.
+
+
+_II.--Individuality as One of the Elements of Well-Being_
+
+We have seen that opinions should be freely formed and freely
+expressed. How about _actions_? If a man refrains from molesting others
+in what concerns him, and merely acts according to his own inclination
+and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which
+show that opinion should be free prove also that he should be allowed
+to carry his opinions into action. As it is useful that while mankind
+are imperfect there should be different opinions, so it is useful that
+there should be different experiments of living, that free scope should
+be given to varieties of character short of injury to others, and that
+the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically. It
+is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern
+others, individuality should assert itself. When, not the person's own
+character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule
+of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human
+happiness and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social
+progress.
+
+No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do
+absolutely nothing but copy one another. On the other hand, it would
+be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if experience had
+as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence or of
+conduct is preferable to another. No one denies that people should be
+so taught and trained in youth as to know and benefit by the results of
+human experience. But it is the privilege of a mature man to use and
+interpret experience in his own way. He who lets the world, or his own
+portion of it, choose his plan of life for him has no need of any other
+faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He, on the other hand, who
+chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties--reasoning,
+foresight, activity, discrimination, resolution, self-control. We wish
+not automatons, but living, originating men and women.
+
+So much will be readily conceded, but nevertheless it may be
+maintained that strong desires and passions are a peril and a snare.
+Yet it is desires and impulses which constitute character, and one
+with no desires and impulses of his own has no more character than
+a steam-engine. An energetic character implies strong, spontaneous
+impulses under the control of a strong will; and such characters
+are desirable, since the danger which threatens modern society is
+not excess but deficiency of personal impulses and preferences.
+Everyone nowadays asks: what is usually done by persons of my station
+and pecuniary circumstances, or (worse still) what is usually done
+by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? The
+consequence is that, through failure to follow their own nature, they
+have no nature to follow; their human capacities are withered and
+starved, and are incapable of any strong pleasures or opinions properly
+their own.
+
+It is not by pruning away the individual but by cultivating it wisely
+that human beings become valuable to themselves and to others, and that
+human life becomes rich, diversified, and interesting. Individuality is
+equivalent to development, and in proportion to the latitude given to
+individuality an age becomes noteworthy or the reverse.
+
+Unfortunately, the general tendency of things is to render mediocrity
+the ascendant power. At present, individuals are lost in the crowd,
+and it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the
+world. And public opinion is the opinion of collective mediocrity, and
+is expressed by mediocre men. The initiation of all wise and noble
+opinions must come from individuals, and the individuality of those who
+stand on the higher eminences of thought is necessary to correct the
+tendency that makes mankind acquiesce in customary and popular opinions.
+
+
+_III.--The Limits of the Authority of Society Over the Individual_
+
+Where, then, does the authority of society begin? How much of human
+life should be assigned to individuality, and how much to society?
+
+To individuality should belong that part of life in which it is chiefly
+the individual that is interested; to society, the part which chiefly
+interests society.
+
+Society, in return for the protection it affords its members, and as a
+condition of its existence, demands, firstly, that its members respect
+the rights of one another; and, secondly, that each person bear his
+share of the labours and sacrifices incurred in defending society for
+its members. Further, society may punish acts of an individual hurtful
+to others, even if not a violation of rights, by the force of public
+opinion.
+
+But in all cases where a person's conduct affects or need only affect
+himself, society may not interfere. Society may help individuals in
+their personal affairs, but neither one person, nor any number of
+persons, is warranted in saying to any human creature that he may not
+use his own life, so far as it concerns himself, as he pleases. He
+himself is the final judge of his own concerns, and the inconveniences
+which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others
+are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that
+portion of his conduct and character which affects his own good, but
+which does not affect the interests of others.
+
+But how, it may be asked, can any part of the conduct of a member of
+society be a matter of indifference to the other members?
+
+I fully confess that the mischief which a person does to himself may
+seriously affect those nearly connected with him, and even society
+at large. But such contingent and indirect injury should be endured
+by society for the sake of the greater good of human freedom, and
+because any attempt at coercion in private conduct will merely produce
+rebellion on the part of the individual coerced. Moreover, when
+society interferes with purely personal conduct, the odds are that it
+interferes wrongly, and in the wrong places, as the pages of history
+and the records of legislation abundantly demonstrate.
+
+Closely connected with the question of the limitations of the
+authority of society over the individual is the question of government
+participation in industrial and other enterprises generally undertaken
+by individuals.
+
+There are three main objections to the interference of the state in
+such matters. In the first place, the matter may be better managed
+by individuals than by the government. In the second place, though
+individuals may not do it so well as government might, yet it is
+desirable that they should do it, as a means of their own mental
+education. In the third place, it is undesirable to add to the power
+of the government. If roads, railways, banks, insurance offices, great
+joint-stock companies, universities, public charities, municipal
+corporations, and local boards were all in the government service,
+and if the employees in these look to the government for promotion,
+not all the freedom of the Press and the popular constitution of the
+legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than
+in name. And, for various reasons, the better qualified the heads and
+hands of the government officials, the more detrimental would the rule
+of the government be. Such a government would inevitably degenerate
+into a pedantocracy monopolising all the occupations which form and
+cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind.
+
+To find the best compromise between individuals and the state is
+difficult, but I believe the ideal must combine the greatest possible
+dissemination of power consistent with efficiency, and the greatest
+possible centralisation and diffusion of information.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN MILTON
+
+Areopagitica
+
+  It has been said of "Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton
+  for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament of
+  England," that it is "the piece that lies more surely than
+  any other at the very heart of our prose literature." In 1637
+  the Star Chamber issued a decree regulating the printing,
+  circulation, and importation of books, and on June 14, 1643, the
+  Long Parliament published an order in the same spirit. Milton
+  (see Vol. XVII) felt that what had been done in the days of
+  repression and tyranny was being continued under the reign of
+  liberty, and that the time for protest had arrived. Liberty was
+  the central principle of Milton's faith. He regarded it as the
+  most potent, beneficent, and sacred factor in human progress; and
+  he applied it all round--to literature, religion, marriage, and
+  civic life. His "Areopagitica," published in November, 1644, was
+  an application of the principle to literature that has remained
+  unanswered. The word "Areopagitica" is derived from Areopagus,
+  the celebrated open-air court in Athens, whose decision in
+  matters of public importance was regarded as final.
+
+
+_I.--The Right of Appeal_
+
+It is not a liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should
+arise in the Commonwealth--that let no man in this world expect; but
+when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily
+reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise
+men look for. To which we are already in good part arrived; and this
+will be attributed first to the strong assistance of God our Deliverer,
+next to your faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons
+of England.
+
+If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour of your civil and
+gentle greatness, Lords and Commons, as to gainsay what your published
+Order hath directly said, I might defend myself with ease out of those
+ages to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are not yet
+Goths and Jutlanders. Such honour was done in those days to men who
+professed the study of wisdom and eloquence that cities and signiories
+heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they had aught in public
+to admonish the state.
+
+When your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason
+from what quarter soever it be heard speaking, I know not what
+should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit instance wherein
+to show, both that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and
+that uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be partial to
+yourselves, by judging over again that Order which ye have ordained to
+regulate printing: that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth
+printed unless the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at
+least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed.
+
+I shall lay before ye, first, that the inventors of licensing books
+be those whom ye will be loth to own; next, what is to be thought in
+general of reading, whatever sort the books be; last, that it will
+be primely to the discouragement of all learning and the stop of
+truth. I deny not that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and
+commonwealth to have a vigilant eye how books demean themselves, as
+well as men. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a
+potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny
+they are.
+
+Nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction
+of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively and
+as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and, being
+sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the
+other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill
+a good book. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is
+the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up
+on purpose to life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life,
+whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not
+oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole
+nations fare the worse.
+
+We should be wary, therefore, how we spill that seasoned life of man,
+preserved and stored up in books, since we see a kind of homicide may
+be thus committed, that strikes at that ethereal essence, the breath of
+reason itself, and slays an immortality rather than a life.
+
+
+_II.--The History of Repression_
+
+In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than in any other part
+of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the magistrate
+cared to take notice of--those either blasphemous and atheistical, or
+libellous. The Romans, for many ages trained up only to a military
+roughness, knew of learning little. There libellous authors were
+quickly cast into prison, and the like severity was used if aught were
+impiously written. Except in these two points, how the world went in
+books the magistrate kept no reckoning.
+
+By the time the emperors were become Christians, the books of those
+whom they took to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and
+condemned in the general councils, and not till then were prohibited.
+
+As for the writings of heathen authors, unless they were plain
+invectives against Christianity, they met with no interdict that can
+be cited till about the year 400. The primitive councils and bishops
+were wont only to declare what books were not commendable, passing no
+further till after the year 800, after which time the popes of Rome
+extended their dominion over men's eyes, as they had before over their
+judgments, burning and prohibiting to be read what they fancied not,
+till Martin V. by his Bull not only prohibited, but was the first
+that excommunicated the reading of heretical books; for about that
+time Wickliffe and Huss, growing terrible, drove the papal court to a
+stricter policy of prohibiting. To fill up the measure of encroachment,
+their last invention was to ordain that no book, pamphlet, or paper
+should be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them the keys of the
+press also out of Paradise), unless it were approved and licensed under
+the hands of two or three glutton friars.
+
+Not from any ancient state or polity or church, nor by any statute
+left us by our ancestors, but from the most tyrannous Inquisition have
+ye this book-licensing. Till then books were as freely admitted into
+the world as any other birth. No envious Juno sat cross-legged over
+the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring. That ye like not now
+these most certain authors of this licensing Order, all men who know
+the integrity of your actions will clear ye readily.
+
+
+_III.--The Futility of Prohibition_
+
+But some will say, "What though the inventors were bad, the thing, for
+all that, may be good?" It may be so, yet I am of those who believe it
+will be a harder alchemy than Lullius ever knew to sublimate any good
+use out of such an invention.
+
+Good and evil in the field of this world grow up together almost
+inseparably. As the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to
+choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil?
+I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and
+unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks
+out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not
+without dust and heat. That which purifies us is trial, and trial is
+by what is contrary. And how can we more safely, and with less danger
+scout into the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner of
+tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And this is the benefit
+which may be had of books promiscuously read.
+
+'Tis next alleged we must not expose ourselves to temptations without
+necessity, and next to that, not employ our time in vain things. To
+both these objections one answer will serve--that to all men such books
+are not temptations, nor vanities, but useful drugs and materials
+wherewith to temper and compose effective and strong medicines. The
+rest, as children and childish men, who have not the art to qualify
+and prepare these working minerals, well may be exhorted to forbear,
+but hindered forcibly they cannot be by all the licensing that sainted
+Inquisition could ever yet contrive.
+
+This Order of licensing conduces nothing to the end for which it was
+framed. If we think to regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners,
+we must regulate all recreations and pastimes, all that is delightful
+to man. No music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is
+grave and Doric. There must be licensing dancers, that no gesture,
+motion, or deportment be taught our youth but what by their allowance
+shall be thought honest. Our garments, also, should be referred to
+the licensing of some more sober workmasters to see them cut into a
+less wanton garb. Who shall regulate all the mixed conversation of our
+youth? Who shall still appoint what shall be discoursed, what presumed,
+and no further? Lastly, who shall forbid and separate all idle resort,
+all evil company? If every action which is good or evil in man at ripe
+years were to be under pittance and prescription and compulsion, what
+were virtue but a name?
+
+When God gave Adam reason, he gave him reason to choose, for reason is
+but choosing. Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures
+round about us, but that these rightly tempered are the very
+ingredients of virtue?
+
+Why should we then affect a rigour contrary to the manner of God and
+of nature, by abridging or scanting those means which books freely
+permitted are both to the trial of virtue and the exercise of truth?
+
+
+_IV.--An Indignity to Learning_
+
+I lastly proceed from the no good it can do to the manifest hurt
+it causes in being, first, the greatest discouragement and affront
+that can be offered to learning and to learned men. If ye be loth to
+dishearten utterly and discontent the free and ingenuous sort of such
+as were born to study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre or
+any other end but the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that
+lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which God and good men have
+consented shall be the reward of those whose published labours advance
+the good of mankind, then know that so far to distrust the judgment and
+the honesty of one who hath but a common repute in learning, and never
+yet offended, as not to count him fit to print his mind without a tutor
+and examiner, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and
+knowing spirit that can be put upon him.
+
+When a man writes to the world he summons up all his reason and
+deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and
+likely consults and confers with his judicious friends. If in this,
+the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no
+industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state
+of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he
+carry all his considerate diligence to the hasty view of an unleisured
+licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps far his inferior in
+judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labour of book-writing, and if
+he be not repulsed or slighted, must appear in print with his censor's
+hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and surety that he is no
+idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the
+author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning.
+
+And, further, to me it seems an undervaluing and vilifying of the whole
+nation. I cannot set so light by all the invention, the art, the wit,
+the grave and solid judgment which is in England, as that it can be
+comprehended in any twenty capacities how good soever, much less that
+it should not pass except their superintendence be over it, except
+it be sifted and strained with their strainers, that it should be
+uncurrent without their manual stamp. Truth and understanding are not
+such wares as to be monopolised and traded in by tickets and statutes
+and standards.
+
+Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation it is whereof ye
+are, and whereof ye are the governors--a nation not slow and dull, but
+of a quick, ingenious and piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and
+sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest
+that human capacity can soar to. Is it for nothing that the grave and
+frugal Transylvanian sends out yearly from as far as the mountainous
+borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their
+youth, but their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic
+arts? By all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy
+and devout men, God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in
+His Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself. What does He,
+then, but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner is, first
+to His Englishmen?
+
+Behold now this vast city--a city of refuge, the mansion house of
+liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection. The shop of
+war hath not there more anvils and hammers waking to fashion out the
+plates and instruments of armed justice in defence of beleaguered
+truth than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious
+lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith
+to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching
+Reformation; others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting
+to the force of reason and convincement. What could a man require
+more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge?
+Where there is much desire to learn, there, of necessity, will be
+much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men
+is but knowledge in the making. A little generous prudence, a little
+forbearance of one another, and some grain of charity might win all
+these diligencies to join and unite in one general search after
+truth, could we but forego this prelatical tradition of crowding free
+consciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men.
+
+Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself
+like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks.
+Methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling
+her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam; purging and unsealing her
+long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while
+the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that
+love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in
+their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.
+
+What should ye do then? Should ye suppress all this flowery crop
+of knowledge and new light? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty
+engrossers over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we
+shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe
+it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing do
+as good as bid ye suppress yourselves. If it be desired to know the
+immediate cause of all this free writing and free speaking, there
+cannot be assigned a truer than your own mild, and free, and humane
+government. It is the liberty, Lords and Commons, which our own
+valorous and happy counsels have purchased us, liberty, which is the
+nurse of all great wits. Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to
+argue freely according to conscience above all liberties. And though
+all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so
+Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting,
+to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple. Whoever knew
+Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter? For who knows not
+that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor
+stratagems, nor licensing to make her victorious. Those are the shifts
+and defences that error uses against her power. Give her but room, and
+do not bind her when she sleeps.
+
+
+
+
+PLUTARCH
+
+Parallel Lives
+
+  Little is known of the life of Plutarch, greatest of biographers.
+  He was born about 50 A.D., at Chæronea, in Bœotia, Greece, the
+  son of a learned and virtuous father. He studied philosophy
+  under Ammonius at Delphi, and on his return to his native city
+  became a priest of Apollo, and archon, or chief magistrate.
+  Plutarch wrote many philosophical works, which are enumerated by
+  his son Lamprias, but are no longer extant. We have about fifty
+  biographies, which are called "parallel" because of the method
+  by which Plutarch, after giving separately the lives of two or
+  more people, proceeds to compare them with one another. The
+  "Lives" were translated into French in Henry II.'s reign, and
+  into English in the time of Elizabeth. They have been exceedingly
+  popular at every period, and many authors, including Shakespeare,
+  have owed much to them. Plutarch died about 120 A.D.
+
+
+_I.--Lycurgus and Numa_
+
+According to the best authors, Lycurgus, the law-giver, reigned only
+for eight months as king of Sparta, until the widow of the late king,
+his brother, had given birth to a son, whom he named Charilaus. He
+then travelled for some years in Crete, Asia, and possibly also in
+Egypt, Libya, Spain, and India, studying governments and manners; and
+returning to Sparta, he set himself to alter the whole constitution of
+that kingdom, with the encouragement of the oracles and the favour of
+Charilaus.
+
+The first institution was a senate of twenty-eight members, whose place
+it was to strengthen the throne when the people encroached too far, and
+to support the people when the king should attempt to become absolute.
+Occasional popular assemblies, in the open air, were to be called, not
+to propose any subject of debate, but only to ratify or reject the
+proposals of the senate and the two kings.
+
+His second political enterprise was a new division of the lands, for
+he found a prodigious inequality, wealth being centred in the hands of
+a few; and by this reform Laconia became like an estate newly divided
+among many brothers. Each plot of land was sufficient to maintain a
+family in health, and they wanted nothing more.
+
+Then, desiring also to equalise property in movable objects, he
+resorted to the device of doing away with gold and silver currency, and
+establishing an iron coinage, of which great bulk and weight went to
+but little value. He excluded all unprofitable and superfluous arts;
+and the Spartans soon had no means of purchasing foreign wares, nor did
+any merchant ship unlade in their harbours. Luxury died away of itself,
+and the workmanship of their necessary and useful furniture rose to
+great excellence.
+
+Public tables were now established, where all must eat in common of
+the same frugal meal; whereby hardiness and health of body and mutual
+benevolence of mind were alike promoted. There were about fifteen to
+a table, to which each contributed in provisions or in money; the
+conversation was liberal and well-informed, and salted with pleasant
+raillery.
+
+Lycurgus left no law in writing; he depended on principles pervading
+the customs of the people; and he reduced the whole business of
+legislation into the bringing up of the young. And in this matter
+he began truly at the beginning, by regulating marriages. The man
+unmarried after the prescribed age was prosecuted and disgraced; and
+the father of four children was immune from taxation.
+
+Lycurgus considered the children as the property of the state rather
+than of the parents, and derided the vanity of other nations, who
+studied to have horses of the finest breed, yet had their children
+begotten by ordinary persons rather than by the best and healthiest
+men. At birth, the children were carried to be examined by the oldest
+men in council, who had the weaklings thrown away into a cavern, and
+gave orders for the education of the sturdy.
+
+As for learning, they had just what was necessary and no more, their
+education being directed chiefly to making them obedient, laborious,
+and warlike. They went barefoot, and for the most part naked. They were
+trained to steal with astuteness, to suffer pain and hunger, and to
+express themselves without an unnecessary word. Dignified poetry and
+music were encouraged. To the end of his life, the Spartan was kept
+ever in mind that he was born, not for himself, but for his country;
+the city was like one great camp, where each had his stated allowance
+and his stated public charge.
+
+Let us turn now to Numa Pompilius, the great law-giver of the
+Romans. A Sabine of illustrious virtue and great simplicity of life,
+he was elected to be king after the interregnum which followed on
+the disappearance of Romulus. He had spent much time in solitary
+wanderings in the sacred groves and other retired places; and there,
+it is reported, the goddess Egeria communicated to him a happiness and
+knowledge more than mortal.
+
+Numa was in his fortieth year, and was not easily persuaded to
+undertake the Roman kingdom. But his disinclination was overcome, and
+he was received with loud acclamations as the most pious of men and
+most beloved of the gods. His first act was to discharge the body-guard
+provided for him, and to appoint a priest for the cult of Romulus. But
+his great task was to soften the Romans, as iron is softened by fire,
+and to bring them from a violent and warlike disposition to a juster
+and more gentle temper. For Rome was composed at first of most hardy
+and resolute men, inveterate warriors.
+
+To reduce this people to mildness and peace, he called in the
+assistance of religion. By sacrifices, solemn dances, and processions,
+wherein he himself officiated, he mixed the charms of festal pleasure
+with holy ritual.
+
+He founded the hierarchy of priests, the vestal virgins, and several
+other sacred orders; and passed most of his time in performing some
+religious function or in conversing with the priests on some divine
+subject. And by all this discipline the people became so tractable,
+and were so impressed with Numa's power, that they would believe the
+most fabulous tales, and thought nothing impossible which he undertook.
+Numa further introduced agriculture, and fostered it as an incentive to
+peace; he distributed the citizens of Rome into guilds, or companies,
+according to their several arts and trades; he reformed the calendar,
+and did many other services to his people.
+
+Comparing, now, Lycurgus and Numa, we find that their resemblances are
+obvious--their wisdom, piety, talent for government, and their deriving
+their laws from a divine source. Of their distinctions, the chief is
+that Numa accepted, but Lycurgus relinquished, a crown; and as it was
+an honour to the former to attain royal dignity by his justice, so it
+was an honour to the latter to prefer justice to that dignity. Again,
+Lycurgus tuned up the strings of Sparta, which he found relaxed with
+luxury, to a keener pitch; Numa, on the contrary, softened the high and
+harsh tone of Rome. Both were equally studious to lead their people
+to sobriety, but Lycurgus was more attached to fortitude and Numa to
+justice.
+
+Though Numa put an end to the gain of rapine, he made no provision
+against the accumulation of great fortunes, nor against poverty, which
+then began to spread within the city. He ought rather to have watched
+against these dangers, for they gave birth to the many troubles that
+befell the Roman state.
+
+
+_II.--Aristides and Cato_
+
+Aristides had a close friendship with Clisthenes, who established
+popular government in Athens after the expulsion of the tyrants; yet
+he had at the same time a great veneration for Lycurgus of Sparta,
+whom he regarded as supreme among law-givers; and this led him to
+be a supporter of aristocracy, in which he was always opposed by
+Themistocles, the democrat. The latter was insinuating, daring, artful,
+and impetuous, but Aristides was solid and steady, inflexibly just, and
+incapable of flattery or deceit.
+
+Neither elated by honour nor disheartened by ill success, Aristides
+became deeply founded in the estimation of the best citizens. He
+was appointed public treasurer, and showed up the peculations of
+Themistocles and of others who had preceded him. When the fleet of
+Darius was at Marathon, with a view to subjugating Greece, Miltiades
+and Aristides were the Greek generals, who by custom were to command
+by turns, day about; and Aristides freely gave up his command to the
+other, to promote unity of discipline, and to give example of military
+obedience. The next year he became archon. Though a poor man and a
+commoner, Aristides won the royal and divine title of "the Just." At
+first loved and respected for his surname "the Just," Aristides came to
+be envied and dreaded for so extraordinary an honour, and the citizens
+assembled from all the towns in Attica and banished him by ostracism,
+cloaking their envy of his character under the pretence of guarding
+against tyranny. Three years later they reversed this decree, fearing
+lest Aristides should join the cause of Xerxes. They little knew the
+man; even before his recall he had been inciting the Greeks to defend
+their liberty.
+
+In the great battle of Platæa, Aristides was in command of the
+Athenians; Pausanias, commander-in-chief of all the confederates,
+joined him there with the Spartans. The opposing Persian army covered
+an immense area. In the engagements which took place the Greeks behaved
+with the utmost firmness, and at last stormed the Persian camp, with
+a prodigious slaughter of the enemy. When, later, Aristides was
+entrusted with the task of assessing the cities of the allies for a
+tax towards the war, and was thus clothed with an authority which made
+him master of Greece, though he set out poor he returned yet poorer,
+having arranged the burden with equal justice and humanity. In fact, he
+esteemed his poverty no less a glory than all the laurels he had won.
+
+The Roman counterpart of Aristides was Cato; which name he received
+for his wisdom, for Romans call wise men Catos. Marcus Cato, the
+censor, came of an obscure family, yet his father and grandfather were
+excellent soldiers. He lived on an estate which his father left him
+near the Sabine country. With red hair and grey eyes, his appearance
+was such, says an epigram, as to scare the spirits of the departed.
+Inured to labour and temperance, he had the sound constitution of one
+brought up in camps; and he had practised eloquence as a necessary
+instrument for one who would mix with affairs. While still a lad he had
+fought in so many battles that his breast was covered with scars; and
+all who spoke with him noted a gravity of behaviour and a dignity of
+sentiment such as to fit him for high responsibilities.
+
+A powerful nobleman, Valerius Flaccus, whose estate was near Cato's
+home, heard his servants praise their neighbour's laborious life.
+He sent for Cato, and, charmed with his sweet temper and ready wit,
+persuaded him to go to Rome and apply himself to political affairs. His
+rise was rapid; he became tribune of the soldiers, then quæstor, and at
+last was the colleague of Valerius both as consul and as censor.
+
+Cato's eloquence brought him the epithet of the Roman Demosthenes, but
+he was even more celebrated for his manner of living. Few were willing
+to imitate him in the ancient custom of tilling the ground with his own
+hands, in eating a dinner prepared without fire, and a spare, frugal
+supper; few thought it more honourable not to want superfluities than
+to possess them. By reason of its vast dominions, the commonwealth had
+lost its pristine purity and integrity; the citizens were frightened
+at labour and enervated by pleasure. But Cato never wore a costly
+garment nor partook of an elaborate meal; even when consul he drank
+the same wine as his servants. He thought nothing cheap that is
+superfluous. Some called him mean and narrow, others thought that he
+was setting an object-lesson to the growing luxury of the age. For my
+part, I think that his custom of using his servants like beasts of
+burden, and of turning them off or selling them when grown old, was the
+mark of an ungenerous spirit, which thinks that the sole tie between
+man and man is interest or necessity. For my own part, I would not sell
+even an old ox that had laboured for me.
+
+However that may be, his temperance was wonderful. When governor of
+Sardinia, where his predecessors had put the province to great expense,
+he did not even use a carriage, but walked from town to town with
+one attendant. He was inexorable in everything that concerned public
+justice. He proved himself a brave general in the field; and when
+he became censor, which was the highest dignity of the republic, he
+waged an uncompromising campaign against luxury, by means of an almost
+prohibitive tax on the expenditure of ostentatious superfluity. His
+style in speaking was at once humorous, familiar, and forcible, and
+many of his wise and pregnant sayings are remembered.
+
+When we compare Aristides and Cato, we are at once struck by many
+resemblances; and examining the several parts of their lives
+distinctly, as we examine a poem or a picture, we find that they both
+rose to great honour without the help of family connections, and merely
+by their own virtue and abilities. Both of them were equally victorious
+in war; but in politics Aristides was less successful, being banished
+by the faction of Themistocles; while Cato, though his antagonists
+were the most powerful men in Rome, kept his footing to the end like a
+skilled wrestler.
+
+Again, Cato was no less attentive to the management of his domestic
+affairs than he was to affairs of state, and not only increased his own
+fortune, but became a guide to others in finance and in agriculture.
+But Aristides, by his indigence, brought disgrace upon justice itself,
+as if it were the ruin and impoverishment of families; it is even said
+that he left not enough for the portions of his daughters nor for the
+expenses of his own funeral. So Cato's family produced prætors and
+consuls to the fourth generation; but of the descendants of Aristides
+some were conjurors and paupers, and not one of them had a sentiment
+worthy of his illustrious ancestor.
+
+
+_III.--Demosthenes and Cicero_
+
+That these two great orators were originally formed by nature in the
+same mould is shown by the similarity of their dispositions. They had
+the same ambition, the same love of liberty, and the same timidity
+in war and danger. Their fortunes also were similar; both raised
+themselves from obscure beginnings to authority and power; both opposed
+kings and tyrants; both of them were banished, then returned with
+honour, were forced to fly again, and were taken by their enemies; and
+with both of them expired the liberties of their countries.
+
+Demosthenes, while a weakly child of seven years, lost his father, and
+his fortune was dissipated by unworthy guardians. But his ambition
+was fired in early years by hearing the pleadings of the orator
+Callistratus, and by noting the honours which attended success in that
+profession. He at once applied himself to the practice of declamation,
+and studied rhetoric under Isæus; and as soon as he came of age he
+appeared at the Bar in the prosecution of his guardians for their
+embezzlements. Though successful in this claim, Demosthenes had much to
+learn, and his earlier speeches provoked the amusement of his audience.
+His manner was at once violent and confused, his voice weak and
+stammering, and his delivery breathless; but these faults were overcome
+by an arduous and protracted course of exercise in the subterraneous
+study which he had built, where he would remain for two or three months
+together. He corrected the stammering by speaking with pebbles in his
+mouth; strengthened his voice by running uphill and declaiming while
+still unbreathed; and his attitude and gestures were studied before a
+mirror.
+
+Demosthenes was rarely heard to speak extempore, and though the people
+called upon him in the assembly, he would sit silent unless he had come
+prepared. He wrote a great part, if not the whole, of each oration
+beforehand, so that it was objected that his arguments "smelled of the
+lamp"; yet, on exceptional occasions, he would speak unprepared, and
+then as if from a supernatural impulse.
+
+His nature was vindictive and his resentment implacable. He was never
+a time-server in word or in action, and he maintained to the end the
+political standpoint with which he had begun. The glorious object of
+his ambition was the defence of the cause of Greece against Philip;
+and most of his orations, including these Philippics, are written
+upon the principle that the right and worthy course is to be chosen
+for its own sake. He does not exhort his countrymen to that which is
+most agreeable, or easy, or advantageous, but to that which is most
+honourable. If, besides this noble ambition of his and the lofty tone
+of his orations, he had been gifted also with warlike courage and had
+kept his hands clean from bribes, Demosthenes would have deserved to be
+numbered with Cimon, Thucydides, and Pericles.
+
+Cicero's wonderful genius came to light even in his school-days; he
+had the capacity and inclination to learn all the arts, but was most
+inclined to poetry, and the time came when he was reputed the best
+poet as well as the greatest orator in Rome. After a training in law
+and some experience of the wars, he retired to a life of philosophic
+study, but being persuaded to appear in the courts for Roscius, who was
+unjustly charged with the murder of his father, Cicero immediately made
+his reputation as an orator.
+
+His health was weak; he could eat but little, and that only late in
+the day; his voice was harsh, loud, and ill regulated; but, like
+Demosthenes, he was able by assiduous practice to modulate his
+enunciation to a full, sonorous, and sweet tone, and his studies under
+the leading rhetoricians of Greece and Asia perfected his eloquence.
+
+His diligence, justice, and moderation were evidenced by his conduct
+in public offices, as quæstor, prætor, and then as consul. In his
+attack on Catiline's conspiracy, he showed the Romans what charms
+eloquence can add to truth, and that justice is invincible when
+properly supported. But his immoderate love of praise interrupted his
+best designs, and he made himself obnoxious to many by continually
+magnifying himself.
+
+Demosthenes, by concentrating all his powers on the single art of
+speaking, became unrivalled in the power, grandeur, and accuracy of
+his eloquence. Cicero's studies had a wider range; he strove to excel
+not only as an orator, but as a philosopher and a scholar also. Their
+difference of temperament is reflected in their styles. Demosthenes is
+always grave and serious, an austere man of thought; Cicero, on the
+other hand, loves his jest, and is sometimes playful to the point of
+buffoonery. The Greek orator never touches upon his own praise except
+with some great point in view, and then does it modestly and without
+offence; the Roman does not seek to hide his intemperate vanity.
+
+Both of these men had high political abilities; but while the former
+held no public office, and lies under the suspicion of having at times
+sold his talent to the highest bidder, the latter ruled provinces as a
+pro-consul at a time when avarice reigned unbridled, and became known
+only for his humanity and his contempt of money.
+
+
+
+
+MADAME DE STAËL
+
+On Germany
+
+  Madame de Staël's book "On Germany" (De l'Allemagne) was finished
+  in 1810. The manuscript was passed by the censor, and partly
+  printed, when the whole impression was seized by the order of the
+  Emperor and destroyed. Madame de Staël herself escaped secretly,
+  and came eventually to London, where, in 1813, the work was
+  published. She did not long survive the fall of her tremendous
+  enemy, Napoleon, but died in her beloved Paris on July 14, 1817.
+  When it is considered that "On Germany" was written by other
+  than an inhabitant of the country, and that Madame de Staël did
+  not travel far beyond her own residences at Mainz, Frankfort,
+  Berlin, and Vienna, the work may be reckoned the most remarkable
+  performance of its kind in literature or biography (Mme. de
+  Staël, biography: see Vol. VIII, p. 89).
+
+
+_I.--Germany, Its People and Customs_
+
+The multitude and extent of the forests indicate a still new
+civilisation. Germany still shows traces of uninhabited nature. It is
+a sad country, and time is needed to discover what there is to love in
+it. The ruined castles on the hills, the narrow windows of the houses,
+the long stretches of snow in winter, the silence of nature and men,
+all contribute towards the sadness. Yet the country and its inhabitants
+are interesting and poetical. You feel that human souls and imagination
+have embellished this land.
+
+The only remarkable monuments in Germany are the Gothic ones which
+recall the age of chivalry. Modern German architecture is not worth
+mentioning, but the towns are well built, and the people try to make
+their houses look as cheerful and pleasing as possible. The gardens
+in some parts of Germany are almost as beautiful as in England, which
+denotes love of nature. Often, in the midst of the superb gardens of
+the German princes, æolian harps are placed; the breezes waft sound
+and scent at once. Thus northern imagination tries to construct Italian
+nature.
+
+The Germans are generally sincere and faithful; they scarcely ever
+break their word and are strangers to deception. Power of work and
+thought is another of their national traits. They are naturally
+literary and philosophical, but their pride of class affects in some
+ways their _esprit_ adversely. The nobles are lacking in ideas, and
+the men of letters know too little about business. The Germans have
+imagination rather than _esprit_.
+
+The town dwellers and the country folk, the soldiers and the
+workmen, nearly all have some knowledge of music. I have been to
+some poor houses, blackened with tobacco smoke, and not only the
+mistress, but also the master of the house, improvise on the piano,
+just as the Italians improvise in verse. Instrumental music is as
+generally fostered in Germany as vocal music is in Italy. Italy has
+the advantage, because instrumental music requires work, whilst the
+southern sky suffices to produce beautiful voices.
+
+Peasant women and servants, who are too poor to put on finery, decorate
+their hair with a few flowers, so that imagination may at least enter
+into their attire.
+
+One is constantly struck in Germany with the contrast between sentiment
+and custom, between talent and taste; civilisation and nature do not
+seem to have properly amalgamated yet. Enthusiasm for art and poetry
+goes with very vulgar habits in social life. Nothing could be more
+bizarre than the combination of the warlike aspect of Germany, where
+soldiers are met at every step, with the indoor life led by the people.
+There is a dread of fatigue and change of air, as if the nation were
+composed only of shopkeepers and men of letters; and yet all the
+institutions tend towards giving the nation military habits.
+
+Stoves, beer, and tobacco-smoke crate around the German people a kind
+of heavy and hot atmosphere which they do not like to leave. This
+atmosphere is injurious to activity, which is at least as necessary
+in war as in courage; resolutions are slow, discouragement is easy,
+because a generally sad existence does not engender much confidence in
+fortune.
+
+Three motive powers lead men to fight: love of the fatherland and
+of liberty, love of glory, and religious fanaticism. There is not
+much love of the fatherland in an Empire that has been divided for
+centuries, where Germans fought against Germans; love of glory is not
+very lively where there is no centre, no capital, no society. The
+Germans are much more apt to get roused by abstract ideas than by the
+interests of life.
+
+The love of liberty is not developed with the Germans; they have learnt
+neither by enjoyment, nor by privation, the prize that may be attached
+to it. The very independence enjoyed by Germany in all respects made
+the Germans indifferent to liberty; independence is a possession,
+liberty a guarantee, and just because nobody was crossed in Germany
+either in his rights or in his pleasures, nobody felt the need for an
+order of things that would maintain this happiness.
+
+The Germans, with few exceptions, are scarcely capable of succeeding
+in anything that requires cleverness and skill; everything troubles
+them, makes them nervous, and they need method in action as well as
+independence in thought.
+
+German women have a charm of their own, a touching quality of voice,
+fair hair, and brilliant complexion; they are modest, but not as shy
+as the English. One can see that they have often met men who were
+superior to them, and that they have less cause to fear the severity of
+public judgment. They try to please by their sensibility, and to arouse
+interest by the imagination. The language of poetry and of the fine
+arts is known to them; they flirt with enthusiasm, just as one flirts
+in France with _esprit_ and wit.
+
+Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetic religion, which willingly
+tolerates all that may be excused by sensibility. The facility of
+divorce in the Protestant provinces certainly affects the sanctity of
+marriage. Husbands are changed as peacefully as if it were merely a
+question of arranging the incidents of a play. The good-nature of men
+and women prevents any bitterness entering these easy ruptures.
+
+Some German women are ever in a state of exaltation that amounts to
+affectation, and the sweet expressions of which efface whatever there
+may be piquant or pronounced in their mind and character. They are not
+frank, and yet not false either; but they see and judge nothing with
+truth, and the real events pass before their eyes like phantasmagoria.
+
+But these women are the exception. Many German women have true
+sentiment and simple manners. Their careful education and natural
+purity of soul renders their dominion gentle and moderate; every day
+they inspire you with increased interest for all that is great and
+noble, with increased confidence in every kind of hope. What is rare
+among German women is real _esprit_ and quick repartee. Conversation,
+as a talent, exists only in France; in other countries it only serves
+for polite intercourse, for discussion and for friendship; in France it
+is an art.
+
+
+_II.--On Southern Germany and Austria_
+
+Franconia, Suabia, and Bavaria were, before the foundation of the
+Munich Academy, strangely heavy and monotonous countries; no arts
+except music, little literature; an accent that did not lend itself
+well to the pronunciation of the Latin languages, no society; great
+parties that resembled ceremonies rather than amusement; obsequious
+politeness towards an unelegant aristocracy; kindness and loyalty in
+all classes, but a certain smiling stiffness which is neither ease nor
+dignity. In a country where society counts for nothing, and nature for
+little, only the literary towns can be really interesting.
+
+A temperate climate is not favourable for poetry. Where the climate
+is neither severe nor beautiful, one lives without fearing or hoping
+anything from heaven, and one only takes interest in the positive facts
+of existence. Southern Germany, temperate in every respect, keeps up a
+state of monotonous well-being which is as bad for business activity as
+it is for the activity of the mind. The keenest wish of the inhabitants
+of that peaceful and fertile country is to continue the same existence.
+And what can one do with that one desire? It is not even enough to
+preserve that with which one is contented.
+
+There are many excellent things in Austria, but few really superior
+men, because in that country it is not much use to excel one's
+neighbour; one is not envied for it, but forgotten, which is still more
+discouraging. Ambition turns in the direction of obtaining good posts.
+
+Austria, embracing so many different peoples, Bohemians, Hungarians,
+etc., has not the unity necessary for a monarchy. Yet the great
+moderation of the heads of the state has for a long time constituted a
+strong link.
+
+Industry, good living and domestic pleasures are Austria's principal
+interests. In spite of the glory she gained by the perseverance and
+valour of her troops, the military spirit has really never got hold of
+all classes of the nation.
+
+In a country where every movement is difficult, and where everything
+inspires tranquility, the slightest obstacle is an excuse for complete
+idleness of action and thought. One might say that this is real
+happiness; but does happiness consist of the faculties which one
+develops, or of those which one chokes?
+
+Vienna is situated in a plain amid picturesque hills. It is an old
+town, very small, but surrounded by very spacious suburbs. It is said
+that the city proper within the fortifications is no larger than it
+was when Richard Cœur-de-Lion was put into prison not far from its
+gates. The streets are as narrow as in Italy; the palaces recall a
+little those of Florence; in fine, nothing here resembles the rest of
+Germany except a few Gothic buildings, which bring back the Middle Ages
+to the imagination. First among these is the tower of St. Stephen's,
+around which somehow centres the whole history of Austria. No building
+can be as patriotic as a church--the only one in which all classes of
+the population meet, the only one which recalls not only the public
+events, but also the secret thoughts, the intimate affections which the
+rulers and the citizens have brought within its precincts.
+
+Every great city has some building, or promenade, some work of art
+or nature, to which the recollections of childhood are attached. It
+seems to me that the _Prater_ should have this charm for the Viennese.
+No other city can match this splendid promenade through woods and
+deer-stocked meadows. The daily promenade at a fixed hour is an Italian
+custom. Such regularity would be impossible in a country where the
+pleasures are as varied as in Paris; but the Viennese could never do
+without it. Society folk in their carriages and the people on their
+feet assemble here every evening. It is in the Prater that one is most
+struck with the easy life and the prosperity of the Viennese. Vienna
+has the uncontested reputation of consuming more food than any other
+equally populous city. You can see whole families of citizens and
+artisans starting for the Prater at five o'clock for a rustic meal as
+substantial as dinner in any other country, and the money they are able
+to spend on it proves their industry and kindly rule.
+
+At night thousands of people return, without disorder, without
+quarrel. You can scarcely hear a voice, so silently do they take their
+pleasures. It is not due to sadness, but to laziness and physical
+well-being. Society is here with magnificent horses and carriages.
+Their whole amusement is to recognise in a Prater avenue the friends
+they have just left in a drawing-room. The emperor and his brothers
+take their place in the long row of carriages, and prefer to be
+considered just as ordinary private people. They only use their rights
+when they are performing their duties. You never see a beggar: the
+charity institutions are admirably managed. And there are very few
+mortal crimes in Austria. Everything in this country bears the impress
+of a paternal, wise, and religious government.
+
+
+_III.--On the German Language_
+
+Germany is better suited for prose than for poetry, and the prose is
+better written than spoken; it is an excellent instrument if you wish
+to describe or to say everything; but you cannot playfully pass from
+subject to subject as you can in French. If you would adapt the German
+words to the French style of conversation you would rob them altogether
+of grace and dignity. The merit of the Germans is to fill their time
+well; the talent of the French is to make us forget time.
+
+Although the sense of German sentences is frequently only revealed at
+the very end, the construction does not always permit to close a phrase
+with the most piquant expression, which is one of the great means to
+make conversation effective. You rarely hear among the Germans what
+is known as a _bon-mot_; you have to admire the thought and not the
+brilliant way in which it is expressed.
+
+Brilliant expression is considered a kind of charlatanism by
+the Germans, who take to abstract expression because it is more
+conscientious and approaches more closely to the very essence of
+truth. But conversation ought not to cause any trouble either to the
+listener or to the speaker. As soon as conversation in Germany departs
+from the ordinary interests of life it becomes too metaphysical;
+there is nothing between the common and the sublime; and it is just
+this intermediate region that is the proper sphere for the art of
+conversation.
+
+
+WEIMAR
+
+Of all the German principalities, Weimar makes one best realise the
+advantages of a small country, if the ruler is a man of fine intellect
+who may try to please his subjects without losing their obedience. The
+Duchess Louise of Saxe-Weimar is the true model of a woman destined
+for high rank. The duke's military talents are highly esteemed; his
+conversation is pointed and well considered; his intellect and his
+mother's have attracted the most distinguished men of letters to
+Weimar. Germany had for the first time a literary capital.
+
+Herder had just died when I arrived at Weimar, but Wieland, Goethe,
+and Schiller were still there. They can be judged from their works,
+for their books bear a striking resemblance to their character and
+conversation.
+
+Life in small towns has never appealed to me. Man's intellect seems to
+become narrow and woman's heart cold. One feels oppressed by the close
+proximity of one's equals. All the actions of your life are minutely
+examined in detail, until the ensemble of your character is no longer
+understood. And the more your spirit is independent and elevated, the
+less you can breathe within the narrow confines. This disagreeable
+discomfort did not exist at Weimar, which was not a little town, but a
+large castle. A chosen circle took a lively interest in every new art
+production. Imagination, constantly stimulated by the conversation of
+the poets, felt less need for those outside distractions which lighten
+the burden of existence but often dissipates its forces. Weimar has
+been called the Athens of Germany, and rightly so. It was the only
+place where interest in the fine arts was, so to speak, rational and
+served as fraternal link between the different ranks.
+
+
+_IV.--Prussia_
+
+To know Prussia, one has to study the character of Frederick II. A man
+has created this empire which had not been favoured by nature, and
+which has only become a power because a soldier has been its master.
+There are two distinct men in Frederick II.: a German by nature, and a
+Frenchman by education. All that the German did in a German kingdom has
+left lasting traces; all that the Frenchman tried has been fruitless.
+
+Frederick's great misfortune was that he had not enough respect
+for religion and customs. His tastes were cynical. Frederick, in
+liberating his subjects of what he called prejudices, stifled in
+them their patriotism, for in order to get attached to a naturally
+sombre and sterile country one must be ruled by very stern opinions
+and principles. Frederick's predilection for war may be excused on
+political grounds. His realm, as he took it over from his father, could
+not exist, and aggrandisement was necessary for its preservation. He
+had two and a half million subjects when he ascended the throne, and he
+left six millions on his death.
+
+One of his greatest wrongs was his share in the division of Poland.
+Silesia was acquired by force of arms. Poland by Macchiavellian
+conquest, "and one could never hope that subjects thus robbed should be
+faithful to the juggler who called himself their sovereign."
+
+Frederick II. wanted French literature to rule alone in his country,
+and had no consideration for German literature, which, no doubt, was
+then not as remarkable as it is to-day; but a German prince should
+encourage all that is German. Frederick wanted to make Berlin resemble
+Paris, and he flattered himself to have found among the French
+refugees some writers of sufficient distinction to have a French
+literature. Such hope was bound to be deceptive. Artificial culture
+never prospers; a few individuals may fight against the natural
+difficulties, but the masses will always follow their natural leaning.
+Frederick did a real wrong to his country when he professed to despise
+German genius.
+
+
+BERLIN
+
+Berlin is a large town, with wide, long, straight streets, beautiful
+houses, and an orderly aspect; but as it has only recently been
+rebuilt, it contains nothing to recall the past. No Gothic monument
+exists among the modern dwellings, and this newly-formed country is in
+no way interfered with by the past. But modern Berlin, with all its
+beauty, does not impress me seriously. It tells nothing of the history
+of the country or the character of its inhabitants; and these beautiful
+new houses seem to be destined only for the comfortable gatherings of
+business or industry. The most beautiful palaces of Berlin are built of
+brick. Prussia's capital resembles Prussia herself; its buildings and
+institutions have the age of one generation, and no more, because one
+man alone is their creator.
+
+
+
+
+THE "GERMANIA" OF TACITUS
+
+Customs and Peoples of Germany
+
+  "Germania," the full title of which is "Concerning the Geography,
+  the Manners and Customs, and the Peoples of Germany," consists
+  of forty-six sections, the first twenty-seven describing the
+  characteristics of the peoples, their customs, beliefs, and
+  institutions; the remaining nineteen dealing with the individual
+  peculiarities of each separate tribe. As a record of the Teutonic
+  tribes, written purely from an ethical and rhetorical standpoint,
+  the work is of the utmost importance, and, on the whole, is
+  regarded as trustworthy. Its weak point is its geography, details
+  of which Tacitus (see Vol. XI, p. 156) no doubt gathered from
+  hearsay. The main object of the work was not so much to compose
+  a history of Germany, as to draw a comparison between the
+  independence of the Northern peoples and the corrupt civilisation
+  of contemporary Roman life. Possibly, also, Tacitus intended to
+  sound a note of alarm.
+
+
+_I.--Germany and the German Tribes_
+
+The whole of Germany is thus bounded. It is separated from Gaul,
+Rhætia, and Pannonia by the rivers Rhine and Danube; from Sarmatia and
+Dacia by mutual fear, or by high mountains; the rest is encompassed by
+the ocean, which forms vast bays and contains many large islands. The
+Rhine, rising from a rocky summit in the Rhætian Alps, winds westward,
+and is lost in the northern ocean. The Danube, issuing from Mount
+Abnoba, traverses several countries and finally falls into the Euxine.
+
+I believe that the population is indigenous to Germany, and that the
+nation is free from foreign admixture. They affirm Germany to be a
+recent word, lately bestowed on those who first passed the Rhine and
+repulsed the Gauls. From one tribe the whole nation has thus been
+named. They cherish a tradition that Hercules had been in their
+country, and him they extol in their battle songs. Some are of opinion
+that Ulysses also, during his long wanderings, was carried into this
+ocean and entered Germany, and that he founded the city Asciburgium,
+which stands at this day upon the bank of the Rhine. Such traditions I
+purpose myself neither to confirm nor to refute; but I agree with those
+who maintain that the Germans have never intermingled by marriages with
+other nations, but have remained a pure, independent people, resembling
+none but themselves.
+
+With whatever differences in various districts, their territory mainly
+consists of gloomy forests or insalubrious marshes, lower and more
+humid towards Gaul, more hilly and bleak towards Noricum and Pannonia.
+The soil is suited to the production of grain, but less so for the
+cultivation of fruits. Flocks and herds abound, but the cattle are
+somewhat small. Their herds are their most valued possessions. Silver
+and gold the gods have denied them, whether in mercy or in wrath I
+cannot determine. Nor is iron plentiful with them, as may be judged
+from their weapons. Swords or long spears they rarely use, for they
+fight chiefly with javelins and shields. Their strength lies mainly in
+their foot, and such is the swiftness of the infantry that it can suit
+and match the motions and engagements of the cavalry.
+
+Generals are chosen for their courage, kings are elected through
+distinction of race. The power of the rulers is not unlimited or
+arbitrary, and the generals secure obedience mainly by force of the
+example of their own enterprise and bravery.
+
+Therefore, when going on a campaign, they carry with them sacred images
+taken from the sacred groves. It is their custom also to flock to the
+field of war not merely in battalions, but with whole families and
+tribes of relations. Thus, close to the scene of conflict are lodged
+the most cherished pledges of nature, and the cries of wives and
+infants are heard mingling with the echoes of battle. Their wounds
+and injuries they carry to their mothers and wives, and the women
+administer food and encouragement to their husbands and sons even while
+these are engaged in fighting.
+
+
+_II.--Customs of Government and War_
+
+Mercury is the god most generally worshipped. To him at certain times
+it is lawful to offer even human sacrifices. Hercules, Mars, and Isis
+are also recognised as deities. From the majesty of celestial beings,
+the Germans judge it to be unsuitable to hold their shrines within
+walls, or to represent them under any human likeness. They therefore
+consecrate whole woods and groves, and on these sylvan retreats they
+bestow the names of the deities, thus beholding the divinities only in
+contemplation and mental reverence.
+
+Although the chiefs regulate affairs of minor import, the whole nation
+deliberates concerning matters of higher consequence, the chiefs
+afterwards discussing the public decision. The assemblies gather
+leisurely, for sometimes many do not arrive for two or three days. The
+priests enjoin silence, and on them is devolved the prerogative of
+correction. The chiefs are heard according to precedence, or age, or
+nobility, or warlike celebrity, or eloquence. Ability to persuade has
+more influence than authority to command. Inarticulate murmurs express
+displeasure at a proposition, pleasure is indicated by the brandishing
+of javelins and the clashing of arms.
+
+Punishments vary with the character of crime. Traitors and deserters
+are hanged on trees; cowards, sluggards, and vicious women are
+smothered in bogs. Fines, to be paid in horses or cattle, are exacted
+for lighter offences, part of the mulct being awarded to the party
+wronged, part to the chief.
+
+The Germans transact no business without carrying arms, but no man
+thus bears weapons till the community has tested his capacity to
+wield them. When the public approval has been signified, the youth is
+invested in the midst of the assembly by his father or other relative
+with a shield and javelin.
+
+Their chief distinction is to be constantly surrounded by a great
+band of select young men, for their honour in peace and their help in
+warfare.
+
+In battle it is disgraceful to a chief to be surpassed in feats of
+bravery, and it is an indelible reproach to his followers to return
+alive from a conflict in which their prince has been slain. The chief
+fights for victory, his followers fight for him. The Germans are so
+restless that they cannot endure repose, and thus many of the young
+men of rank, if their own tribe is tranquil, quit it for a community
+which happens to be engaged in war. In place of pay the retainers are
+supplied with daily repasts, grossly prepared, but always profuse.
+
+
+_III.--Domestic Customs of the Germans_
+
+Intervals of peace are not much devoted to the chase by the Germans,
+but rather to indolence, to sleep, and to feasting. Many surrender
+themselves entirely to sloth and gluttony, the cares of house, lands,
+and possessions being left to the wives. It is an astonishing paradox
+that in the same men should co-exist so much delight in idleness and so
+great a repugnance to tranquil life.
+
+The Germans do not dwell in cities, and endure no contiguity in their
+abodes, inhabiting spots distinct and apart, just as they fancy,
+a fountain, a grove, or a field. Their villages consist of houses
+arranged in opposite rows, not joined together as are ours. Each is
+detached, with space around, and mortar and tiles are unknown. Many, in
+winter, retreat to holes dug in the ground, to which they convey their
+grain.
+
+The laws of matrimony are strictly observed, and polygamy is rarely
+practised among the Germans. The dowry is not brought by the wife,
+but by the husband. Conjugal infidelity is exceedingly rare, and is
+instantly punished. In all families the children are reared without
+clothing, and thus grow into those physical proportions which are so
+wonderful to look upon. They are invariably suckled by their mothers,
+never being entrusted to nursemaids. The young people do not hasten to
+marry, and thus the robust vigour of the parents is inherited by their
+offspring.
+
+No nation was ever more noted for hospitality. It is esteemed inhuman
+to refuse to admit to the home any stranger whatever. Every comer is
+willingly received and generously feasted. Hosts and guests delight in
+exchanging gifts. To continue drinking night and day is no reproach
+to any man. Quarrels through inebriety are very frequent, and these
+often result in injuries and in fatalities. But likewise, in these
+convivial feasts they usually deliberate about effecting reconciliation
+between those who are at enmity, and also about forming affinities, the
+election of chiefs, and peace and war.
+
+Slaves gained in gambling with dice are exchanged in commerce to
+remove the shame of such victories. Of their other slaves each has a
+dwelling of his own, his lord treating him like a tenant, exacting
+from him an amount of grain, or cattle, or cloth. Thus their slaves
+are not subservient as are ours. For they do not perform services in
+the households of their masters, these duties falling to the wives and
+children of the family. Slaves are rarely seen in chains or punished
+with stripes, though in the heat of passion they may sometimes be
+killed.
+
+Usury and borrowing at interest are unknown. The families every year
+shift on the spacious plains, cultivating fresh allotments of the
+soil. Only corn is grown, for there is no inclination to expend toil
+proportionate to the capacity of the lands by planting orchards, or
+enclosing meadows, or watering gardens.
+
+Their funerals are not ostentatious, neither apparel nor perfumes being
+accumulated on the pile, though the arms of the deceased are thrown
+into the fire. Little demonstration is made in weeping or wailing, but
+the grief endures long. So much concerning the customs of the whole
+German nation.
+
+
+_IV.--Tribes of the West and North_
+
+I shall now describe the institutions of the several tribes, as they
+differ from one another, giving also an account of those who from
+thence removed, migrating to Gaul. That the Gauls were more powerful
+in former times is shown by that prince of authors, the deified Julius
+Cæsar. Hence it is probable that they have passed into Germany.
+
+The region between the Hercynian forest and the rivers Maine and Rhine
+was occupied by the Helvetians, as was that beyond it by the Boians,
+both Gallic tribes. The Treveri and Nervii fervently aspire to the
+reputation of descent from the Germans, and the Vangiones, Triboci, and
+Nemetes, all dwelling by the Rhine, are certainly all Germans. The Ubii
+are ashamed of their origin and delight to be called Agrippinenses,
+after the name of the founder of the Roman colony which they were
+judged worthy of being constituted.
+
+The Batavi are the bravest of all these nations. They inhabit a little
+territory by the Rhine, but possess an island on it. Becoming willingly
+part of the Roman empire, they are free from all impositions and pay no
+tribute, but are reserved wholly for wars, precisely like a magazine of
+weapons and armour. In the same position are the Mattiaci, living on
+the opposite banks and enjoying a settlement and limits of their own,
+while they are in spirit and inclination attached to us.
+
+Beginning at the Hercynian forest are the Catti, a robust and vigorous
+people, possessed also of much sense and ability. They are not only
+singularly brave, but are more skilled in the true art of war than
+other Germans.
+
+Near the Catti were formerly dwelling the Bructeri, in whose stead are
+now settled the Chamani and the Angrivarii, by whom the Bructeri were
+expelled and almost exterminated, to the benefit of us Romans. May the
+gods perpetuate among these nations their mutual hatred, since fortune
+befriends our empire by sowing strife amongst our foes!
+
+The country of the Frisii, facing that of the Angrivarii and the
+Chamani, is divided into two sections, called the greater and the
+lesser, which both extend along the Rhine to the ocean.
+
+Hitherto I have been describing Germany towards the west. Northward it
+stretches with an immense compass. The great tribe of the Chauci occupy
+the whole region between the districts of the Frisii and of the Catti.
+These Chauci are the noblest people of all the Germans. They prefer to
+maintain their greatness by justice rather than by violence, seeking to
+live in tranquillity, and to avoid quarrels with others.
+
+By the side of the Chauci and the Catti dwell the Cherusci, a people
+who have degenerated in both influence and character. Finding no
+enemy to stimulate them, they were enfeebled by too lasting a peace,
+and whereas they were formerly styled good and upright, they are now
+called cowards and fools, having been subdued by the Catti. In the same
+winding tract live the Cimbri, close to the sea, a tribe now small in
+numbers but great in fame for many monuments of their old renown. It
+was in the 610th year of Rome, Cæcilius Metellus and Papirius Carbo
+being consuls, that the first mention was made of the arms of the
+Cimbri. From that date to the second consulship of the Emperor Trajan
+comprehends an interval of nearly 210 years; so long a period has our
+conquest of Germany occupied. In so great an interval many have been
+the disasters on both sides.
+
+Indeed, not from the Samnites, or from the Carthaginians, or from the
+people of Spain, or from all the tribes of Gaul, or even from the
+Parthians, have we received more checks or encountered more alarms. For
+the passion of the Germans for liberty is more indomitable than that of
+the Arsacidæ. What has the power of the East to lay to our dishonour?
+But the overthrow and abasement of Crassus, and the loss by the Romans
+of five great armies, all commanded by consuls, have to be laid to the
+account of the Germans. By the Germans, also, even the Emperor Augustus
+was deprived of Varus and three legions.
+
+Only with great difficulty and the loss of many men were the Germans
+defeated by Caius Marius in Italy, or by the deified Julius Cæsar
+in Gaul, or by Drusus, or Tiberius, or Germanicus in their native
+territories. And next, the strenuous menaces of Caligula against these
+foes ended in mockery and ridicule. Afterwards, for a season they were
+quiet, till, tempted to take advantage of our domestic schisms and
+civil wars, they stormed and seized the winter entrenchments of our
+legions, and attempted the conquest of Gaul. Though they were once more
+repulsed, our success was rather a triumph than an overwhelming victory.
+
+
+_V.--The Great Nation of the Suevi_
+
+Next I must refer to the Suevi, who are not, like the Catti, a
+homogeneous people, but are divided into several tribes, all bearing
+distinct names, although they likewise are called by the generic title
+of Suevi. They occupy the larger part of Germany. From other Germans
+they are distinguished by their peculiar fashion of twisting their
+hair into a knot, this also marking the difference between the freemen
+and their slaves. Of all the tribes of the Suevi, the Semnones esteem
+themselves to be the most ancient and the noblest, their faith in
+their antiquity being confirmed by the mysteries of their religion.
+Annually in a sacred grove the deputies of each family clan assemble to
+repeat the rites practised by their ancestors. The horrible ceremonies
+commence with the sacrifice of a man. Their tradition is that at this
+spot the nation originated, and that here the supreme deity resides.
+The Semnones inhabit a hundred towns, and by their superior numbers and
+authority dominate the rest of the Suevi.
+
+On the contrary, the Langobardi are ennobled by the paucity of their
+number, for, though surrounded by powerful tribes, they assert
+their superiority by their valour and skill instead of displaying
+obsequiousness. Next come the Reudigni, the Aviones, the Angli, the
+Varini, the Eudoses, the Suardones and the Nuithones, all defended by
+rivers or forests.
+
+These are marked by no special characteristics, excepting the common
+worship of the goddess Nerthum, or Mother Earth, of whom they believe
+that she not only intervenes in human affairs, but also visits the
+nations. In a certain island of the sea is a wood called Castum. Here
+is kept a chariot sacred to the goddess, covered with a curtain, and
+permitted to be touched only by her priest, who perceives her whenever
+she enters the holy vehicle, and with deepest veneration attends the
+motion of the chariot, which is always drawn by yoked cows. Till the
+same priests re-conducts the goddess to her shrine, after she has grown
+weary of intercourse with mortals, feasts and games are held with great
+rejoicings, no arms are touched, and none go to war. Slaves wash the
+chariot and curtains in a sacred lake, and, if you will believe it, the
+goddess herself; and forthwith these unfortunate beings are doomed to
+be swallowed up in the same lake.
+
+This portion of the Suevian territory stretches to the centre of
+Germany. Next adjoining is the district of the Hermunduri (I am now
+following the course of the Danube as I previously did that of the
+Rhine), a tribe faithful to the Romans. To them, accordingly, alone
+of all the Germans, is commerce permitted. They travel everywhere at
+their own discretion. When to others we show nothing more than our arms
+and our encampments, to this people we open our houses, as to men who
+are not longing to possess them. The Elbe rises in the territory of the
+Hermunduri.
+
+
+_VI.--The Tribes of the Frontier_
+
+Near the Hermunduri reside the Narisci, and next the Marcomanni and
+the Quadi, the former being the more famed for strength and bravery,
+for it was by force that they acquired their location, expelling from
+it the Boii. Now, here is, as it were, the frontier of Germany, as far
+as it is washed by the Danube. Not less powerful are several tribes
+whose territories enclose the lands of those just named--the Marsigni,
+the Gothini, the Osi, and the Burii. The Marsigni in speech and dress
+resemble the Suevi; but as the Gothini speak Gallic, and the Osi the
+Pannonian language, and as they endure the imposition of tribute, it is
+manifest that neither of these peoples are Germans.
+
+Upon them, as aliens, tribute is imposed, partly by the Sarmatæ, partly
+by the Quadi, and, to deepen their disgrace, the Gothini are forced
+to labour in the iron mines. Little level country is possessed by all
+these several tribes, for they are located among mountainous forest
+regions, Suevia being parted by a continuous range of mountains, beyond
+which live many nations. Of these, the most numerous and widely spread
+are the Lygii. Among others, the most powerful are the Arii, the
+Helveconæ, the Manimi, the Elysii, and the Naharvali.
+
+The Arii are the most numerous, and also the fiercest of the tribes
+just enumerated. They carry black shields, paint their bodies black,
+and choose dark nights for engaging in battle. The ghastly aspect of
+their army strikes terror into their foes, for in all battles the
+eyes are vanquished first. Beyond the Lygii dwell the Gothones, ruled
+by a king, and thus held in stricter subjection than the other German
+tribes, yet not so that their liberties are extinguished. Immediately
+adjacent are the Rugii and the Lemovii, dwelling by the coast. The
+characteristic of both is the use of a round shield and a short sword.
+
+Next are the Suiones, a seafaring community with very powerful fleets.
+The ships differ in form from ours in possessing prows at each end,
+so as to be always ready to row to shore without turning. They are
+not propelled by sails, and have no benches of oars at the sides. The
+rowers ply in all parts of the ship alike, and change their oars from
+place to place according as the course is shifted hither and thither.
+Great homage is paid among them to wealth; they are governed by a
+single chief, who exacts implicit obedience. Arms are not used by these
+people indiscriminately, as by other German tribes. Weapons are shut up
+under the care of a slave. The reason is that the ocean always protects
+the Suiones from their foes, and also that armed bands, when not
+employed, grow easily demoralised.
+
+Beyond the Suiones is another sea, dense and calm. It is thought that
+by this the whole globe is bounded, for the reflection of the sun,
+after his setting, continues till he rises, and that so radiantly as to
+obscure the stars. Popular opinion even adds that the tumult is heard
+of his emerging from the ocean, and that at sunrise forms divine are
+seen, and also the rays about his head. Only thus far extend the limits
+of Nature, if what fame reports be true.
+
+The Æstii reside on the right of the Suevian Sea. Their dress and
+customs resemble those of the Suevi, but the language is akin to that
+of Britain. They worship the Mother of gods, and wear images of boars,
+without any weapons, superstitiously trusting the goddess and the
+images to safeguard them. But they cultivate the soil with much greater
+zeal than is usual with Germans, and they even search the ocean, and
+are the only people who gather amber, which they find in the shallows
+and along the shore. It lay long neglected till it gained value from
+our luxury.
+
+Bordering on the Suiones are the Sitones, agreeing with them in all
+things excepting that they are governed by a woman. So emphatically
+have they degenerated, not merely from liberty, but even below a
+condition of bondage. Here end the territories of the Suevi. Whether
+I ought to include the Peucini, the Venedi, and the Fenni among the
+Sarmatæ or the Germani I cannot determine, although the Peucini speak
+the same language with the Germani, dress, build, and live like them,
+and resemble them in dirt and sloth.
+
+What further accounts we have are fabulous, and these I leave
+untouched.
+
+
+
+
+HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE
+
+History of English Literature
+
+  Two years before the appearance of his "Histoire de la
+  Littérature Anglaise" Taine had aroused a lively interest in
+  England by his "Notes sur l'Angleterre," a work showing much
+  wayward sympathy for the English character, and an irregular
+  understanding of English institutions. The same mixed impression
+  was produced by the laboriously conceived and brilliantly
+  written "History of English Literature." Taine (see Vol. XXIV,
+  p. 177) wrote to a theory that often worked out into curious
+  contradictions. His method was to show how men have been shaped
+  by the environments and tendencies of their age. Unfortunately,
+  having formed an idea of the kind of literature our age should
+  produce according to his theory, he had eyes for nothing
+  except what he expected to find. He went to literature for his
+  confirmations of his reading of history. Taine's criticism,
+  in consequence, is often incomplete, and more piquant than
+  trustworthy. The failure to appreciate some of the great English
+  writers--notably Shakespeare and Milton--is patent. Still, the
+  critic always had the will to be just, and no foreigner has
+  devoted such complimentary labour to the formation of a complete
+  estimate of English literature. The book was published in 1863-4.
+
+
+_Saxon and Norman_
+
+History has been revolutionised by the study of literatures. A work
+of literature is now perceived, not to be a solitary caprice, but a
+transcript of contemporary manners, from which we may read the style
+of man's feelings for centuries back. By the study of a literature,
+one may construct a moral history, the psychology of a people. To find
+a complete literature is rare. Only ancient Greece, and modern France
+and England offer a complete series of great literary monuments. I
+have chosen England because it is alive, and one can see it with more
+detachment than one can see France.
+
+Huge white bodies, cool-blooded, with fierce blue eyes, reddish flaxen
+hair; ravenous stomachs filled with meat and cheese and heated by
+strong drinks; a cold temperament, slow to love, home-staying, prone
+to drunkenness--these are to this day the features which descent
+and climate preserve to the English race. The heavy human brute
+gluts himself with sensations and noise, and this appetite finds a
+grazing-ground in blows and battle. Strife for strife's sake such is
+their pleasure. A race so constituted was predisposed to Christianity
+by its gloom, and beyond Christianity foreign culture could not graft
+any fruitful branch on this barbarous stock. The Norman conquerors of
+France had by intermarriage become a Latin race, and nimbly educated
+themselves from the Gauls, who boasted of "talking with ease." When
+they crossed to England, they introduced new manners and a new spirit.
+They taught the Saxon how ideas fall in order, and which ideas are
+agreeable; they taught him how to be clear, amusing, and pungent. At
+length, after long impotence of Norman literature, which was content to
+copy, and of Saxon literature, which bore no fruit, a definite language
+was attained, and there was room for a great writer.
+
+
+_Chaucer_
+
+Then Geoffrey Chaucer appeared, inventive though a disciple, original
+though a translator, and by his genius, education, and life was
+enabled to know and depict a whole world, but above all to satisfy the
+chivalric world and the splendid courts which shone upon the heights.
+He belonged to it, and took such part in it that his life from end to
+end was that of a man of the world and a man of action.
+
+Two motives raised the middle age above the chaos of barbarism, one
+religious, which fashioned the gigantic cathedrals, the other secular,
+which built the feudal fortresses. The one produced the adventurous
+hero, the other the mystical monk. These master-passions gave way at
+last to monotony of habit and taste for worldliness. Something was then
+needed to make the evening hours flow sweetly. The lords at table have
+finished dinner; the poet arrives; they ask him for his subject, and he
+answers "Love."
+
+There is something more pleasant than a fine narrative, and that is a
+collection of fine narratives, especially when the narratives are all
+of different colouring. This collection Chaucer gave us, and more. If
+over-excited, he is always graceful, polished, full of light banter,
+half-mockeries, somewhat gossipy. An elegant speaker, facile, every
+ready to smile, he makes of love not a passion but a gay feast. But if
+he was romantic and gay after the fashion of his age, he also had a
+fashion of his own. He observes characters, notes their differences,
+studies the coherence of their parts, brings forward living and
+distinct persons--a thing unheard of in his time. It is the English
+positive good sense and aptitude for seeing the inside of things
+beginning to appear. Chaucer ceases to gossip, and thinks. Each tale is
+suited to the teller. Instead of surrendering himself to the facility
+of glowing improvisation, he plans. All his tales are bound together by
+veritable incidents which spring from the characters of the personages,
+and are such as we light upon in our travels. He advanced beyond the
+threshold of his art, but he paused in the vestibule. He half-opens
+the door of the temple, but does not take his seat there; at most he
+sat down at intervals. His voice is like that of a boy breaking into
+manhood. He sets out as if to quit the middle ages; but in the end he
+is still there.
+
+
+_The Renaissance_
+
+For seventeen centuries a deep and sad thought had weighed upon
+the spirit of man--the idea of his impotence and decadence. Greek
+corruption, Roman oppression, and the dissolution of the old world had
+given it birth; it, in its turn, had produced a stoical resignation,
+an epicurean indifference, Alexandrian mysticism, and the Christian
+hope in the Kingdom of God. At last invention makes another start. All
+was renewed, America and the Indies were added to the map. The system
+of the universe was propounded, the experimental sciences were set
+on foot, art and literature shot forth like a harvest, and religion
+was transformed. It seems as though men had suddenly opened their
+eyes and seen. They attained a new and superior kind of intelligence
+which produced extraordinary warmth of soul, a super-abundant and
+splendid imagination, reveries, visions, artists, believers, founders,
+creators. This was Europe's grand age, and the most notable epoch
+of human growth. To this day we live from its sap. To vent the
+feelings, to set free boldly on all the roads of existence the pack
+of appetites and instincts, this was the craving which the manners of
+the time betrayed. It was "merry England," as they called it then.
+It was not yet stern and constrained. It extended widely, freely,
+and rejoiced to find itself so expanded. A few sectarians, chiefly
+in the towns, clung gloomily to the Bible; but the Court, and the
+men of the world sought their teachers and their heroes from Pagan
+Greece and Rome. Nearer still was another Paganism, that of Italy,
+and civilisation was drawn thence as from a spring. Transplanted into
+different races and climates, this paganism received from each a
+distinct character--in England it becomes English. Here Surrey--the
+English Petrarch--introduced a new style, a manly style, which marks
+a great transformation of the mind. He looks forward to the last line
+while writing the first, and keeps the strongest word for the last.
+He collects his phrases in harmonious periods, and by his inversions
+adds force to his ideas. Every epithet contains an idea, every metaphor
+a sentiment. Those who have ideas now possess in the new-born art an
+instrument capable of expressing them. In half a century English
+writers had introduced every artifice of language, period, and style.
+
+Luxuriance and irregularity were the two features of the new
+literature. Sir Philip Sydney may be selected as exhibiting the
+greatness and the folly of the prevailing taste. How can his pastoral
+epic, "The Arcadia," be described? It is but a recreation, a poetical
+romance written in the country for the amusement of a sister, a work
+of fashion, a relic, but it shows the best of the general spirit,
+the jargon of the world of culture, fantastic imagination, excessive
+sentiment, a medley of events which suited men scarcely recovered from
+barbarism. At his period men's heads were full of tragical images,
+and Sydney's "Arcadia" contains enough of them to supply half a dozen
+epics. And Sydney was only a soldier in an army; there is a multitude
+about him, a multitude of poets. How happens it that when this
+generation was exhausted true poetry ended in England as true painting
+in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the mind came and
+passed away. These men had new ideas and no theories in their heads.
+Their emotions were not the same as ours. For them all things had a
+soul, and though they had no more beauty then than now, men found them
+more beautiful.
+
+
+_Spenser_
+
+Among all the poems of this time there is one truly divine--Spenser's
+"Faërie Queene." Everything in his life was calculated to lead Spenser
+to ideal poetry; but the heart within is the true poet. Before all,
+his was a soul captivated by sublime and chaste beauty. Philosophy and
+landscapes, ceremonies and ornaments, splendours of the country and
+the court, on all which he painted or thought he impressed his inward
+nobleness. Spenser remains calm in the fervour of invention. He is
+epic, that is, a narrator. No modern is more like Homer. Like Homer,
+he is always simple and clear; he makes no leap, he omits no argument,
+he preserves the natural sequence of ideas while presenting noble
+classical images. Like Homer, again, he is redundant, ingenuous: even
+childish. He says everything, and repeats without limit his ornamental
+epithets.
+
+To expand in epic faculties in the region where his soul is naturally
+borne, he requires an ideal stage, situated beyond the bounds of
+reality, in a world which could never be. His most genuine sentiments
+are fairy-like. Magic is the mould of his mind. He carries everything
+that he looks upon into an enchanted land. Only the world of chivalry
+could have furnished materials for so elevated a fancy. It is the
+beauty in the poet's heart which his whole works try to express, a
+noble yet laughing beauty, English in sentiment, Italian in externals,
+chivalric in subject, representing a unique epoch, the appearance of
+Paganism in a Christian race, and the worship of form by an imagination
+of the North.
+
+Among the prose writers of the Pagan renaissance, two may be singled
+out as characteristic, namely, Robert Burton--an ecclesiastic and
+university recluse who dabbled in all the sciences, was gifted with
+enthusiasm and spasmodically gay, but as a rule sad and morose, and
+according to circumstances a poet, an eccentric, a humorist, a madman,
+or a Puritan--and Francis Bacon, the most comprehensive, sensible,
+originative mind of the age; a great and luminous intellect. After more
+than two centuries it is still to Bacon that we go to discover the
+theory of what we are attempting and doing.
+
+
+_The Theatre_
+
+The theatre was a special product of the English Renaissance. If ever
+there was a living and natural work, it is here. There were already
+seven theatres in Shakespeare's time, so great and universal was the
+taste for representations. The inborn instincts of the people had not
+been tamed, nor muzzled, nor diminished. We hear from the stage as from
+the history of the times, the fierce murmur of all the passions. Not
+one of them was lacking. The poets who established the drama, carried
+in themselves the sentiments which the drama represents. Greene,
+Marlowe, and the rest, were ill-regulated, passionate, outrageously
+vehement and audacious. The drama is found in Marlowe as the plant in
+the seed, and Marlowe was a primitive man, the slave of his passions,
+the sport of his dreams. Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Jonson,
+Webster, Massinger, Ford, appear close upon each other, a new and
+favoured generation, flourishing in the soil fertilised by the efforts
+of the generation which preceded them. The characters they produced
+were such as either excite terror by their violence, or pity by their
+grace. Passion ravages all around when their tragic figures are on the
+stage; and contrasted with them is a troop of sweet and timid figures,
+tender before everything, and the most loveworthy it has been given to
+man to depict. The men are warlike, imperious, unpolished; the women
+have sweetness, devotion, patience, inextinguishable affection--a thing
+unknown in distant lands, and in France especially. With these women
+love becomes almost a holy thing. They aim not at pleasure but at
+devotion. When a new civilisation brings a new art to light there are
+about a dozen men of talent who express the general idea surrounding
+one or two men of genius who express it thoroughly. The first
+constitute the chorus, the others the leaders. The leaders in this
+movement are Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.
+
+Ben Jonson was a genuine Englishman, big and coarsely framed,
+combative, proud, often morose, prone to strain splenitic imaginations.
+His knowledge was vast. In an age of great scholars he is one of
+the best classics of his time. Other poets for the most part are
+visionaries; Jonson is all but a logician. Whatever he undertakes,
+whatever be his faults, haughtiness, rough-handling, predilection
+for morality and the past, he is never little or commonplace. Nearly
+all his work consists of comedies, not sentimental and fanciful as
+Shakespeare's, but satirical, written to represent and correct follies
+and vices. Even when he grew old his imagination remained abundant and
+fresh. He is the brother of Shakespeare.
+
+
+_Shakespeare_
+
+Only this great age could have cradled such a child as Shakespeare.
+What soul! What extent of action, and what sovereignty of an unique
+faculty! What diverse creations, and what persistence of the same
+impress! Look now. Do you not see the poet behind the crowd of his
+creations? They have all shown somewhat of him. Ready, impetuous,
+impassioned, delicate, his genius is pure imagination, touched
+more vividly and by slighter things than ours. Hence, his style,
+blooming with exuberant images, loaded with exaggerated metaphors. An
+extraordinary species of mind, all-powerful, excessive, equally master
+of the sublime and the base, the most creative that ever engaged in the
+exact copy of the details of actual existence, in the dazzling caprice
+of fancy, in the profound complications of superhuman passions; a
+nature inspired, superior to reason, extreme in joy and pain, abrupt of
+gait, stormy and impetuous in its transports!
+
+Shakespeare images with copiousness and excess; he spreads metaphors
+profusely over all he writes; it is a series of painting which is
+unfolded in his mind, picture on picture, image on image, he is forever
+copying the strange and splendid visions which are heaped up within
+him. Such an imagination must needs be vehement. Every metaphor is a
+convulsion. Shakespeare's style is a compound of curious impressions.
+He never sees things tranquilly. Like a fiery and powerful horse, he
+bounds but cannot run. He flies, we creep. He is obscure and original
+beyond all the poets of his or any other age--the most immoderate of
+all violaters of language, the most marvellous of all creators of
+souls. The critic is lost in Shakespeare as in an immense town. He can
+only describe a few monuments and entreat the reader to imagine the
+city.
+
+
+_The Christian Renaissance_
+
+Following the pagan came the Christian Renaissance born of the
+Reformation, a new birth in harmony with the genius of the Germanic
+peoples. It must be admitted that the Reformation entered England by a
+side door. It was established when Henry VIII. permitted the English
+Bible to be published. England had her book. Hence have sprung much
+of the English language and half of the English manners; to this day
+the country is Biblical. After the Bible the book most widely-read
+in England is the Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. It is a manual
+of devotion for the use of simple folk. In it we hear a man of the
+people speaking to the people, who would render intelligible to all
+the terrible doctrine of damnation and salvation. Allegory is natural
+to Bunyan. He employs it from necessity. He only grasps truth when
+it is made simple by images. His work is allegorical, that it may
+be intelligible. Bunyan is a poet because he is a child. He has the
+freedom, the tone, the ease, the clearness of Homer; he is as close
+to Homer as an Anabaptist tinker could be to a heroic singer. He and
+Milton survived as the two last poets of the Reformation, oppressed
+and insulted, but their work continues without noise, for the ideal
+they raised was, after all, that which the time suggested and the race
+demanded.
+
+
+_Milton_
+
+John Milton was not one of those fevered souls whose rapture takes them
+by fits, and whose inquietude condemns them to paint the contradictions
+of passion. His mind was lucid, his imagination limited. He does not
+create souls but constructs arguments. Emotions and arguments are
+arranged beneath a unique sentiment, that of the sublime, and the broad
+river of lyric poetry streams from him with even flow, splendid as a
+cloth of gold.
+
+Against external fluctuations he found a refuge in himself; and the
+ideal city which he had built in his soul endured impregnable to all
+assaults. He believed in the sublime with the whole force of his
+nature, and the whole authority of his logic. When after a generous
+education he returned from his travels he threw himself into the strife
+of the times heartily, armed with logic, indignation and learning,
+and protected by conviction and conscience. I have before me the
+formidable volume in which his prose works were collected. What a book!
+The chairs creak when you place it upon them. How we cannot fix our
+attention on the same point for a page at a time. We require manageable
+ideas; we have disused the big two-handed sword of our forefathers.
+If Michael Angelo's prophets could speak, it would be in Milton's
+style. Overloaded with ornaments, infinitely prolonged, these periods
+are triumphant choruses of angelic Alleluias sung by deep voices to
+the accompaniment of ten thousand harps of gold. But is he truly a
+prose-writer? Entangled dialectics, a heavy and awkward mind, fanatical
+and ferocious provincialism, the blast and temerities of implacable
+passion, the sublimity of religious and lyric exaltation--we do not
+recognize in these features a man born to explain, persuade, and prove.
+
+As a poet Milton wrote not by impulse but like a man of letters with
+the assistance of books, seeing objects as much through previous
+writings as in themselves, adding to his images the images of others,
+borrowing and recasting their inventions. He made thus for himself
+a composite and brilliant style, less natural than that of his
+precursors, less fit for effusions, less akin to the lively first
+glow of sensation, but more solid, more regular, more capable of
+concentrating in one large patch of light all their sparklings and
+splendours. He compacted and ennobled the poets' domain.
+
+When, however, after seventeen years of fighting and misfortune had
+steeped his soul in religious ideas, mythology yielded to theology,
+the habit of discussion subdued the lyric light. The poet no longer
+sings sublime verse, he harangues in grave verse, he gives us correct
+solemn discourses. Adam and Eve the first pair! I listen and hear two
+reasoners of the period--Colonel Hutchinson and his wife. Heavens!
+dress them at once. Folks so cultivated should have invented before all
+a pair of trousers and modesty. This Adam enters Paradise via England.
+There he learnt respectability and moral speechifying. Adam was your
+true _pater familias_ with a vote, an old Oxford man, consulted at
+need by his wife, and dealing out to her with prudent measure the
+scientific explanations which she requires. The flow of dissertations
+never pauses. From Paradise it gets into Heaven. Milton's Jehovah is a
+grave king who maintains a suitable state something like Charles I. The
+finest thing in connection with Paradise is Hell; and in this history
+of God, the chief part is taken by the devil. No poetic creation equals
+in horror and grandeur the spectacle that greeted Satan on leaving his
+dungeon.
+
+But what a heaven! One would rather enter Charles I's troops of
+lackeys, or Cromwell's Ironsides. What a gap between this monarchical
+frippery and the visions of Dante! To the poet of the Apocalypse the
+voice of the deity was "as the sound of many waters; and he had in
+his right hand seven stars; and his countenance was as the sun shining
+in his strength; and when I saw him I fell at his feet as dead." When
+Milton arranged his celestial show, he did not fall at his feet as dead.
+
+When we take in, in one view, the vast literary region of England,
+extending from the restoration of the Stuarts to the French Revolution,
+we perceive that all the productions bear a classical impress, such as
+is met with neither in the preceding nor in the succeeding time. This
+classical art finds its centre in the labours of Pope, and above all in
+Pope, whose favourite author is Dryden, of all English poets the least
+inspired and the most classical. Pope gave himself up to versification.
+He did not write because he thought, but he thought in order to write.
+I wish I could admire his works of imagination, but I cannot. I know
+the machinery. There is, however, a poet in Pope, and to discover
+him we have only to read him in fragments. Each verse in Pope is a
+masterpiece if taken alone. There is a classical architecture of ideas,
+and of all the masters who have practised it in England Pope is the
+most skilled.
+
+
+_The Modern Spirit_
+
+The spirit of the modern revolution broke out first in a Scotch
+peasant, Robert Burns. Scarcely ever was seen together more of misery
+and talent. Burns cries out in favour of instinct and joy. Love was his
+main business. In him for the first time a poet spoke as men speak, or,
+rather, as they think, without premeditation, with a mixture of all
+styles. Burns was much in advance of his age, and the life of men in
+advance of their age is not wholesome. He died worn out at 37. In him
+old narrow moralities give place to the wide sympathy of the modern man.
+
+Now appeared the English romantic school. Among the multitude of its
+writers we may distinguish Southey, a clever man, a producer of
+decorative poems to suit the fashion; Coleridge, a poor fellow who had
+steeped himself in mystical theories; Thomas More, a witty railer; and
+Walter Scott, the favourite of his age, who was read over the whole
+of Europe, was almost equal to Shakespeare, had more popularity than
+Voltaire, earned about £200,000, and taught us all history. Scott gave
+to Scotland a citizenship of literature. Scott loves men from the
+bottom of his heart. By his fundamental honesty and wide humanity he
+was the Homer of modern life.
+
+When the philosophical spirit passed from Germany to England,
+transformed itself and became Anglican, deformed itself and became
+revolutionary, it produced a Wordsworth, a Byron, a Shelley.
+Wordsworth, a new Cowper, with less talent and more ideas, was
+essentially an interior man, engrossed by the concerns of the soul. To
+such men life becomes a grave business on which we must incessantly and
+scrupulously reflect. Wordsworth was a wise and happy man, a thinker
+and dreamer, who read and walked and listened in deep calm to his own
+thoughts. The peace was so great within him and around him that he
+could perceive the imperceptible. He saw grandeur and beauty in the
+trivial events which weave the woof of our most commonplace days.
+His "Excursion" is like a Protestant temple--august though bare and
+monstrous.
+
+Shelley, one of the greatest poets of the age, beautiful as an angel,
+of extraordinary precocity, sweet, generous, tender, overflowing
+with gifts of heart, mind, birth, and fortune, marred his life by
+introducing into his conduct the enthusiastic imagination he should
+have kept for his verse. His world is beyond our own. We move in it
+between heaven and earth, in abstraction, dreamland, symbolism. Shelley
+loved desert and solitary places, where man enjoys the pleasure of
+believing infinite what he sees--infinite as his soul. Verily there
+is a soul in everything; in the universe is a soul; even beyond the
+sensible form shines a secret essence and something divine which we
+catch sight of by sublime illuminations, never reaching or penetrating
+it. The poets hear the great heart of nature beat; they would reach it.
+One alone, Byron, succeeds.
+
+I have reserved for the last the greatest and most English artist, from
+whom we may learn more truths of his country and of his age than from
+all the rest. All styles appear dull, and all souls sluggish by the
+side of Byron's. No such great poet has had so narrow an imagination.
+They are his own sorrows, his own revolts, his own travels, which,
+hardly transformed and modified, he introduces into his verses. He
+never could make a poem save of his own heart. If Goethe was the poet
+of the universe, Byron was the poet of the individual; and if the
+German genius found its interpretation in the one, the English genius
+found its interpretation in the other.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY DAVID THOREAU
+
+"Walden"
+
+  Henry David Thoreau, America's poet-naturalist, as he might
+  be called, was born at Concord, Mass., on July 12, 1817. His
+  great-grandparents were natives of the Channel Islands, whence
+  his grandfather emigrated. Thoreau was educated at Hartford, and
+  began work as a teacher, but under the influence of Emerson, in
+  whose house he lived at intervals, made writing his hobby and a
+  study of the outdoor world his occupation. In 1845, as related
+  in "Walden," he built himself a shanty near Walden Pond, on land
+  belonging to Emerson. There he busied himself with writing his
+  "Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers," and in recording his
+  observations in the woods. After the Walden experiment he mingled
+  the pursuit of literature and the doing of odd jobs for a living.
+  His books, "The Maine Woods," "A Yankee in Canada," "Excursions
+  in Field and Wood," were mostly published after his death. He
+  died on May 6, 1862, from consumption. Emerson, Hawthorne, and
+  Alcott were his warm friends in life, and helped the world
+  to appreciate his genius. A poet in heart, Thoreau was only
+  successful in giving his poetry a prose setting, but that setting
+  is harmonised with the utmost delicacy. No one has produced more
+  beautiful effects in English prose with simpler words.
+
+
+_The Simple Life_
+
+When I wrote the following pages, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile
+from any neighbour, in a house I had built for myself, on the shore of
+Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the
+labour of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At
+present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.
+
+Men labour under a mistake. By a seeming fate, commonly called
+necessity, they are employed laying up treasures which moth and rust
+will corrupt. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to
+the end of it if not before.
+
+But it is never too late to give up our prejudices. What old people say
+you cannot do, you try and find that you can. I have lived some thirty
+years and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable advice from
+my seniors.
+
+To many creatures, there is but one necessity of life--food. None of
+the brute creation require more than food and shelter. The necessaries
+of life for man in this climate may be distributed under the several
+heads of food, shelter, clothing, and fuel. I find by my own experience
+a few implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow, etc., and
+for the studious, lamplight, stationery, and access to a few books,
+rank next to necessaries, and can all be obtained at a trifling cost.
+Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life,
+are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind. None can be an
+impartial or wise observer of human life but from the vantage ground of
+voluntary poverty.
+
+
+_Ideals_
+
+If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend my life in
+years past it would probably astonish those who know nothing about it.
+
+I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle dove, and am still
+on their trail. Many are the travellers I have spoken, concerning them,
+describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one
+or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even
+seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to
+recover them as if they had lost them themselves.
+
+How many mornings, summer and winter, before any neighbour was stirring
+about his business, have I been about mine! So many autumn, aye, and
+winter days, spent outside the town trying to hear what was in the
+wind, to hear and carry it. At other times waiting at evening on the
+hill-tops for the sky to fall that I might catch something, though I
+never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again in the
+sun.
+
+For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain
+storms, and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then
+of forest paths. I looked after the wild stock of the town. I have
+watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the
+red pine and the black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet,
+which might have withered else in dry seasons.
+
+My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not to live cheaply nor to live
+dearly there, but to transact some private business with the fewest
+obstacles.
+
+
+_House Building_
+
+When I consider my neighbours, the farmers of Concord, I find that for
+the most part they have been toiling twenty, thirty, or forty years,
+that they may become the real owners of their farms; and we may regard
+one-third of that toil as the cost of their houses. And when the farmer
+has got his house he may not be the richer but the poorer for it, and
+it be the house that has got him. The very simplicity and nakedness
+of men's life in the primitive ages imply that they left him still
+a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep he
+contemplated his journey again. He dwelt as it were in the tent of this
+world. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on
+earth and forgotten Heaven.
+
+Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the
+woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house,
+and began to cut down some tall, arrowy, white pines, still in their
+youth, for timber. It was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered
+with pine woods, through which I looked out on the pond, and a small
+open field in the woods where pines and hickories were springing up.
+Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree,
+having become better acquainted with it.
+
+By the middle of April my house was framed and ready for raising.
+At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of
+my acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for
+neighbourliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my
+house. I began to occupy it on the 4th of July, as soon as it was
+boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully feather-edged and
+lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain, but before
+boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney. I built the chimney after
+my hoeing in the fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing
+my cooking in the meantime out of doors on the ground, early in the
+morning. When it stormed before my bread was baked I fixed a few boards
+over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and passed some
+pleasant hours in that way.
+
+The exact cost of my house, not counting the work, all of which was
+done by myself, was just over twenty-eight dollars. I thus found that
+the student who wishes for a shelter can obtain one for a lifetime at
+an expense not greater than the rent which he now pays annually.
+
+
+_Farming_
+
+Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by
+some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual expenses,
+I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil near it,
+chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn, peas,
+and turnips. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the ploughing,
+though I held the plough myself. My farm outgoes for the first season
+were, for employment, seed, work, etc., 14 dollars 72-1/2 cents. I got
+twelve bushels of beans and eighteen bushels of potatoes, besides some
+peas and sweet corn. My whole income from the farm was 23 dollars 43
+cents, a profit of 8 dollars 71-1/2 cents, besides produce consumed.
+
+The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land that I
+required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience
+of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on
+husbandry, that if one would live simply and eat only the crop which he
+raised, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of ground, and that
+it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen to plough it, and
+he could do all his necessary farm work, as it were, with his left hand
+at odd hours in the summer.
+
+My food for nearly two years was rye and Indian meal without yeast,
+potatoes, rice, a very little salt pork, molasses and salt, and my
+drink water. I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost
+incredibly little trouble to obtain one's necessary food even in this
+latitude, and that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals and
+yet retain health and strength.
+
+Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes,
+which I baked before my fire out of doors, but at last I found a
+mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. I made a
+study of the ancient and indispensable art of bread-making, going back
+to the primitive days. Leaven, which some deem to be the soul of bread,
+I discovered was not indispensable.
+
+Thus I found I could avoid all trade and barter, so far as my food was
+concerned, and having a shelter already, it would only remain to get
+clothing and fuel. My furniture, part of which I made myself, consisted
+of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a looking-glass, three inches
+in diameter, a pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle, a skillet, and a
+frying pan, a dipper, a wash bowl, two knives and forks, three plates,
+one cup, one spoon, a jug for oil, a jug for molasses, and a japanned
+lamp. When I have met an immigrant tottering under a bundle which
+contained his all, I have pitied him, not because it was his all, but
+because he had all that to carry.
+
+
+_Earning a Living_
+
+For more than five years I maintained myself solely by the labour of
+my hands, and I found that by working for about six weeks in the year
+I could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as
+well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have
+thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were out of
+proportion to my income, for I was obliged to dress and train, not to
+say think and believe accordingly; and I lost my time into the bargain.
+I have tried trade; but I have learned that trade curses everything
+it handles; and though you trade in messages from Heaven, the whole
+curse of trade attaches to the business. I found that the occupation of
+day-labourer was the most independent of any, especially as it required
+only thirty or forty days in the year to support me. The labourer's
+day ends with the going down of the sun, and he is then free to devote
+himself to his chosen pursuit, independent of his labour; but his
+employer, who speculates from month to month, has no respite from one
+end of the year to the other.
+
+But all this is very selfish, I have heard some of my townsmen say.
+I confess that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic
+enterprises. However, when I thought to indulge myself in this respect
+by maintaining certain poor persons as comfortably as I maintain
+myself, and even ventured so far as to make them the offer, they one
+and all unhesitatingly preferred to remain poor.
+
+
+_The Life with Nature_
+
+When I took up my abode in the woods I found myself suddenly neighbour
+to the birds, not by having imprisoned one, but having caged myself
+near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly
+frequent the garden and orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling
+songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager.
+
+Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal
+simplicity, and I may say, innocence, with Nature herself. I have been
+as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks. Morning brings back
+the heroic ages. Then, for an hour at least, some part of us awakes
+which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.
+
+Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? As for work, we
+haven't any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus' dance, and
+cannot possibly keep our heads still. Hardly a man takes a half hour's
+nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks:
+"What's the news?" as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels.
+"Pray tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on this
+globe." And he reads over his coffee and rolls that a man has had his
+eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River, never dreaming the
+while that he lives in the dark, unfathomed mammoth cave of this world,
+and has but the rudiment of an eye himself.
+
+Let us spend our day as deliberately as Nature. Let us rise early and
+fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation. Let us not be
+upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a
+dinner situated in the meridian shadows.
+
+Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I
+drink I see the sandy bottom, and detect how shallow it is. Its thin
+current glides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper, fish
+in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.
+
+
+_Reading_
+
+My residence was more favourable, not only to thought but to serious
+reading, than a university; and though I was beyond the range of the
+morning circulating library I had more than ever come within the
+influence of those books which circulate round the world. I kept
+Homer's "Iliad" on my table through the summer, though I looked at his
+pages only now and then. To read well--that is to read true books in
+a true spirit--is a noble exercise and one that will task the reader
+more than any exercise which the customs of the day esteem. Books must
+be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written. No wonder
+that Alexander carried the "Iliad" with him on his expeditions in a
+precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics.
+
+
+_In the Sun_
+
+I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans. Nay, I often did
+better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice
+the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or
+hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes on a summer morning,
+having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise
+till noon, rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and
+sumachs in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang
+around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling
+in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's waggon on the
+distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those
+seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work
+of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my
+life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realised what
+the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. Instead
+of singing like the birds I silently smiled at my incessant good
+fortune. This was sheer idleness to my fellow townsmen, no doubt, but
+if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard I should not
+have been found wanting.
+
+
+_Night Sounds_
+
+Regularly at half past seven, in one part of the summer, the
+whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on
+a stump by my door, or upon the ridge pole of the house. When other
+birds were still the screech owls took up the strain, like mourning
+women their ancient u-lu-lu. Wise midnight hags! I love to hear their
+wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the woodside. They give
+me a new sense of the variety and capacity of that nature which is our
+common dwelling. _Oh-o-o-o-o that I had never been bor-r-r-r-n_! sighs
+one on this side of the pond, and circles, with the restlessness of
+despair to some new perch on the gray oaks. Then: _That I had never
+been bor-r-r-r-n_! echoes another on the further side with tremulous
+sincerity, and _bor-r-r-r-n_! comes faintly from far in the Lincoln
+woods. I require that there are owls. They represent the stark twilight
+and unsatisfied thoughts which all have.
+
+I am not sure that ever I heard the sound of cock crowing from my
+clearing, and I thought that it might be worth the while to keep a
+cockerel for his music merely, as a singing bird. The note of this once
+wild Indian pheasant is certainly the most remarkable of any bird's,
+and if they could be naturalised without being domesticated it would
+soon become the most famous sound in our woods.
+
+I kept neither dog, cat, cow, pig, nor hens, so that you would have
+said there was a deficiency of domestic sounds, neither the churn nor
+the spinning wheel, nor even the singing of the kettle, nor the hissing
+of the urn, nor children crying, to comfort me; only squirrels on the
+roof, a whip-poor-will on the ridge pole, a bluejay screaming beneath
+the window, a woodchuck under the house, a laughing loon on the pond,
+and a fox to bark in the night.
+
+This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense and
+imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange
+liberty in Nature, a part of herself. Sympathy with the fluttering
+alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the
+lake, my serenity is rippled, but not ruffled. Though it is now dark
+the wind still blows and roars in the woods, the waves still dash, and
+some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never
+complete. The wildest animals do not repose but seek their prey now.
+They are Nature's watchmen--links which connect the days of animated
+life.
+
+I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. I never
+found the companion that was never so companionable as solitude. A man
+thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. I am
+no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud. God is
+alone, but the devil, he is far from being alone; he sees a great deal
+of company; he is legion. I am no more lonely than a single dandelion
+in a pasture, or a humble bee, or the North Star, or the first spider
+in a new house.
+
+
+_Visitors_
+
+In my house I have three chairs: one for solitude, two for friendship,
+three for society. My best room, however--my withdrawing room--always
+ready for company, was the pine wood behind my house. Thither in Summer
+days, when distinguished guests came, I took them, and a priceless
+domestic swept the floor and kept the things in order.
+
+I could not but notice some of the peculiarities of my visitors. Girls
+and boys, and young women generally, seemed glad to be in the woods.
+They looked in the pond and at the flowers, and improved their time.
+Men of business, even farmers, thought only of solitude and employment,
+and of the great distance at which I dwelt from something or other; and
+though they said that they loved a ramble in the woods occasionally, it
+was obvious that they did not. Restless, committed men, whose time was
+all taken up in getting a living, or keeping it, ministers, who spoke
+of God as if they enjoyed a monopoly of the subject, and who could not
+bear all kinds of opinions, doctors, lawyers, and uneasy housekeepers,
+who pried into my cupboard and bed when I was out, young men who had
+ceased to be young, and had concluded that it was safest to follow the
+beaten track of the professions--all these generally said that it was
+not possible to do as much good in my position.
+
+
+_Interference_
+
+After hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing in the forenoon, I usually
+bathed again in the pond, washed the dust of labour from my person,
+and for the afternoon was absolutely free. Every day or two I strolled
+to the village. As I walked in the woods to see the birds and the
+squirrels, so I walked in the village to see the men and the boys.
+Instead of the wind among the pines I heard the carts rattle.
+
+One afternoon near the end of the first summer, when I went to the
+village to get a shoe from the cobbler's, I was seized and put into
+jail, because I did not pay a tax to, or recognise the authority
+of, the State. I had gone down to the woods for other purposes. But
+wherever a man goes men will pursue and paw him with their dirty
+institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their
+desperate Odd Fellows society. However, I was released the next day,
+obtained my mended shoe, and returned to the woods in season to get my
+dinner of huckleberries on Fair Haven Hill. I was never molested by
+any person but those who represented the State. I had no lock nor bolt
+but for the desk which held my papers, not even a nail to put over my
+latch or window. I never fastened my door night or day, and though I
+was absent several days my house was more respected than if it had been
+surrounded by a file of soldiers.
+
+
+_Exhausted Experience_
+
+I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it
+seemed to me that I had several more lives to live and could not spare
+any more time for that one. It is remarkable how easily and insensibly
+we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.
+I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door
+to the pond side, and though it is five or six years since I trod it,
+it is still quite distinct. So with the paths which the mind travels.
+How worn and dusty then must be the highways of the world--how deep
+the ruts of tradition and conformity. I learned this, at least by my
+experiment, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his
+dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will
+meet with a success unexpected in common hours. In proportion as he
+simplifies his life the laws of the Universe will appear less complex,
+and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness
+weakness.
+
+
+
+
+ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE
+
+Democracy in America
+
+  Alexis de Tocqueville (see Vol. XII, p. 117), being commissioned
+  at the age of twenty-six to investigate and report on American
+  prisons, made use of his residence in the United States to
+  gain a thorough insight into the political institutions and
+  social conditions of the great Republic. The results of his
+  observations and reflections were given to the world in 1835,
+  in the two famous volumes _De la Démocratie en Amérique_, which
+  were followed in 1840 by a third and fourth volume under the
+  same title. As an analysis of American political institutions De
+  Tocqueville's work has been superseded by Mr. Bryce's admirable
+  study of the same subject; but as one of the great classics of
+  political philosophy it can never be superseded, and has rarely
+  been rivalled. With all a Frenchman's simplicity and lucidity
+  he traces the manifold results of the democratic spirit; though
+  sometimes an excessive ingenuity, which is also French, leads
+  him to over-speculative conclusions. The work was received with
+  universal applause.
+
+
+_I.--Equality_
+
+The most striking impression which I received during my residence in
+the United States was that of the equality which reigns there. This
+equality gives a peculiar character to public opinion and to the
+laws of that country, and influences the entire structure of society
+in the most profound degree. Realising that equality, or democracy,
+was rapidly advancing in the Old World also, I determined to make a
+thorough study of democratic principles and of their consequences, as
+they are revealed in the western continent.
+
+We have only to review the history of European countries from the
+days of feudalism, to understand that the development of equality is
+one of the great designs of Providence; inasmuch as it is universal,
+inevitable, and lasting, and that every event and every individual
+contributes to its advancement.
+
+It is impossible to believe that a social movement which has proceeded
+so far as this movement towards equality has done, can be arrested
+by human efforts, or that the democracy which has bearded kings and
+barons can be successfully resisted by a wealthy bourgeoisie. We know
+not whither we are moving; we only know that greater equality is found
+to-day among Christian populations than has been known before in any
+age or in any country.
+
+I confess to a kind of religious terror in the presence of this
+irresistible revolution, which has defied every obstacle for the
+last ten centuries. A new political science is awaited by a world
+which is wholly new; but the most immediate duties of the statesman
+are to instruct the democracy, if possible to revive its beliefs, to
+purify its morals, to enlighten its inexperience by some knowledge of
+political principles, and to substitute for the blind instincts which
+sway it, the consciousness of its true interests.
+
+In the Old World, and in France especially, the more powerful,
+intelligent, and moralised classes have held themselves apart from
+democracy, and the latter has, therefore, been abandoned to its own
+savage instincts. The democratic revolution has permeated the whole
+substance of society, without those concomitant changes in laws, ideas,
+habits, and manners which ought to have embodied and clothed it. So
+it is that we indeed have democracy, but without those features which
+should have mitigated its vices and liberated its advantages. The
+prestige of royal power is gone, without being replaced by the majesty
+of law, and our people despise authority as much as they fear it. Our
+poor have the prejudices of their fathers without their beliefs, their
+ignorance, without their virtues; they have taken self-interest for
+a principle without knowing what their interests are. Our society is
+tranquil, not in the consciousness of strength and of well-being,
+but a sense of decrepitude and despair. That is why I have studied
+America, in order that we may ourselves profit by her example. I have
+no intention of writing a panegyric on the United States. I have seen
+more in America than America herself; I have sought a revelation of
+Democracy, with all its characters and tendencies, its prejudices and
+its passions.
+
+
+_II.--Religion and Liberty_
+
+Our first consideration is of great importance, and must never be
+lost sight of. The Anglo-American civilisation which we find in the
+United States is the product of two perfectly distinct elements, which
+elsewhere are often at war with one another, but have here been merged
+and combined in the most wonderful way; I mean the spirit of religion
+and the spirit of liberty. The founders of New England were at the same
+time ardent secretaries and enthusiastic radicals; they were bound
+by the narrowest religious beliefs, but were free from all political
+prejudice.
+
+Thus arose two tendencies which we may trace everywhere in American
+manners, as well as in their lives. All political principles, laws,
+and human institutions seem to have become plastic in the hands of the
+early colonists. The bonds which fettered the society in which they had
+been born fell from their limbs; ancient opinions which had dominated
+the world for ages simply disappeared; a new career opened for the
+human race; a world without horizons was before them, and they exulted
+in liberty. But outside the limits of the political world, they made no
+ventures of this kind. They abjured doubt, renounced their desire for
+innovation, left untouched the veil of the sanctuary, and knelt with
+awe before the truths of religion.
+
+So, in their world of morals, everything was already classed,
+arranged, foreseen, and determined; but in their world of politics,
+everything was agitated, debated, and uncertain. In the former they
+were ruled by a voluntary obedience, but in all political affairs they
+were inspired by independence, contempt for experience, and jealous of
+every authority.
+
+Far from impeding one another, these two tendencies, which appear so
+radically opposed, actually harmonise and seem even to support each
+other. Religion sees in civil liberty a noble field for the exercise
+of human faculties. Free and powerful in her own sphere, and satisfied
+with the part reserved for her, she knows that her sovereignty is all
+the more securely established when she depends only on her own strength
+and is founded in the hearts of men. And liberty, on the other hand,
+recognises in religion the comrade of its struggles and triumphs,
+the cradle of its rights. It knows that religion is the safeguard of
+morals, and that morals are the safeguard of the laws, and the judge of
+the continuance of liberty itself.
+
+
+_III.--Omnipotence of the Majority_
+
+The greatest danger to liberty in America lies in the omnipotence of
+the majority. A democratic power is never likely to perish for lack
+of strength or of resources, but it may very well fall because of
+the misdirection of its strength and the abuse of its resources. If
+ever liberty is lost in America, it will be due to an oppression of
+minorities which may drive them to an appeal to arms. The anarchy which
+must then result will be due only to despotism.
+
+This danger has not escaped the notice of American statesmen. Thus,
+President James Madison said, "It is of great importance to republics,
+not only that society should be defended from the oppression of
+those who govern it, but also that one section of society should be
+protected against the injustice of another section; for justice is the
+end towards which all government must be directed." Again, Jefferson
+said that "The tyranny of legislators is at present, and will be for
+many years, our most formidable danger. The tyranny of the executive
+will arise in its turn, but at a more distant period." Jefferson's
+words are of great importance, for I consider him to have been the most
+powerful apostle that democracy has ever had.
+
+But there are certain factors in the United States which moderate
+this tyranny of the majority. Chief among these is the absence of any
+administrative centralisation; so that the majority, which has often
+the tastes and instincts of a despot, lacks the instruments and the
+means of tyranny. The local administrative bodies constitute so many
+reefs and breakwaters to retard or divide the stream of the popular
+will.
+
+Not less important, as a counterpoise to the danger of democracy, is
+the strong legal spirit which pervades the United States. Lawyers have
+great influence and authority in matters of government. But lawyers
+are strongly imbued with the tasks and habits of mind which are most
+characteristic of aristocracy; they have an instinctive liking for
+forms and for order, a native distaste for the will of the multitude,
+and a secret contempt for popular government. Of course, their own
+personal interest may and often does over-ride this professional
+bias. But lawyers will always be, on the whole, friends of order and
+of precedent, and enemies of change. And in America, where there are
+neither nobles nor able political writers, and where the people are
+suspicious of the wealthy, the lawyers do, in fact, form the most
+powerful order in politics, and the most intellectual class of society.
+They therefore stand to lose by any innovation, and their conservative
+tendency is reinforced by their interests as a class.
+
+A third safeguard against the tyranny of the majority is to be found
+in the institution of a jury. Almost everyone is called at one time
+or another to sit on a jury, and thus learns at least something of
+the judicial spirit. The civil jury has saved English freedom in past
+times, and may be expected to maintain American liberties also. It is
+true that there are many cases, and those often the most important,
+in which the American judge pronounces sentence without a jury. Under
+those circumstances, his position is similar to that of a French judge,
+but his moral power is far greater; for the memory and the influence of
+juries are all about him, and he speaks with the authority of one who
+habitually rests upon the jury system. In no other countries are the
+judges so powerful as in those where the people are called in to share
+judicial privileges and responsibilities.
+
+
+_IV.--Equality of Men and Women_
+
+Inasmuch as democracy destroys or modifies the various inequalities
+which social traditions have made, it is natural to ask whether it has
+had any effect on that great inequality between men and women which
+is elsewhere so conspicuous. We are driven to the conclusion that the
+social movement which places son and father, servant and master, and in
+general, the inferior and superior, more nearly on the same level, must
+raise woman more and more to an equality with man.
+
+Let us guard, however, against misconceptions. There are people in
+Europe who confuse the natural qualities of the two sexes, and desire
+that men and women should be, not only equal, but also similar to one
+another. That would give them both the same functions, the same duties
+and the same rights, and would have them mingle in everything, in work,
+in pleasures, and in business. But the attempt to secure this kind
+of equality between the two sexes, only degrades them both, and must
+result in unmanly men, and unwomanly women.
+
+The Americans have not thus mistaken the kind of democratic equality
+which ought to hold between man and woman. They know that progress does
+not consist in forcing these dissimilar temperaments and faculties
+into the same mould, but in securing that each shall fulfil his or her
+task in the best possible way. They have most carefully separated the
+functions of man and woman, in order that the great work of social life
+may be most prosperously carried on.
+
+In America, far more than elsewhere, the lines of action of the two
+sexes have been clearly divided. You do not find American women
+directing the external affairs of the family, or entering into business
+or into politics; but neither do you find them obliged to undertake
+the rough labours of the field, or any other work requiring physical
+strength. There are no families so poor as to form an exception to this
+rule.
+
+So it is that American women often unite a masculine intelligence and
+a virile energy with an appearance of great refinement and altogether
+womanly manners.
+
+One has often noticed in Europe a certain tinge of contempt even in
+the flatteries which men lavish on women; and although the European
+often makes himself a slave of a woman, it is easy to see that he never
+really regards her as his equal. But in the United States men rarely
+praise women, though they show their esteem for them every day.
+
+Americans show, in fact, a full confidence in woman's reason, and a
+profound respect for her liberty. They realise that her mind is just as
+capable as that of man to discover truth, and that her heart is just as
+courageous in following it; and they have never tried to shelter or to
+guide her by means of prejudice, ignorance, or fear.
+
+For my part I do not hesitate to say that the singular prosperity and
+the evergrowing power of the American people is due to the superiority
+of American women.
+
+
+_V.--The Perfectibility of Man_
+
+Equality suggests many ideas which would never have arisen without
+it, and among others the notion that humanity can reach perfection--a
+theory which has practical consequences of great interest.
+
+In countries where the population is classed according to rank,
+profession, and birth, and everyone has to follow the career to which
+he happens to be born, each is conscious of limits to his power,
+and does not attempt to struggle against an inevitable destiny.
+Aristocratic peoples do not deny that man may be improved, but they
+think of this as an amelioration of the individual, and not as a change
+in social circumstances, and while they admit that humanity has made
+great progress, they believe in certain limits which it cannot pass.
+They do not think, for instance, that we shall arrive at sovereign good
+or at absolute truth.
+
+But in proportion as caste and class-distinction disappear, the
+vision of an ideal perfection arises before the human mind. Continual
+changes are ever taking place, some of them to his disadvantage, but
+the majority to his advantage, and the democrat concludes that man
+in general is capable of arriving at perfection. His reverses teach
+him that no one has yet discovered absolute good, and his frequent
+successes excite him to pursue it. Always seeking, falling, and rising
+again, often deceived, but never discouraged, he hastens towards an
+immense grandeur which he dimly conceives as the goal of humanity. This
+theory of perfectibility exercises prodigious influence even on those
+who have never thought of it. For instance, I ask an American sailor
+why the ships of his country are built to last only a few years; and
+he tells me without hesitation that the art of shipbuilding makes such
+rapid progress every day, that the finest ship constructed to-day must
+be useless after a very short time. From these words, spoken at random
+by an uneducated man, I can perceive the general and systematic idea
+which guides this great people in every matter.
+
+
+_VI.--American Vanity_
+
+All free people are proud of themselves, but national pride takes
+different forms. The Americans, in their relations with strangers, are
+impatient of the least criticism, and absolutely insatiable for praise.
+The slightest congratulation pleases them, but the most extravagant
+eulogium is not enough to satisfy them; they are all the time touting
+for your praise, and if you are slow to give it they begin praising
+themselves. It is as if they were doubtful of their own merit. Their
+vanity is not only hungry, but anxious and envious. It gives nothing,
+and asks insistently. It is both supplicant and pugnacious. If I tell
+an American that his country is a fine one, he replies, "It is the
+finest in the world." If I admire the liberty which it enjoys, he
+answers, "There are few people worthy of such liberty." I remark on the
+purity of manners in the United States, and he says, "Yes, a stranger
+who knows the corruption of other nations must indeed be astonished at
+us." At length I leave him to the contemplation of his country and of
+himself, but he presently runs after me, and will not go away until
+I have repeated it all over again. It is a kind of patriotism that
+worries even those who honour it.
+
+The Englishman, on the contrary, tranquilly enjoys the real or
+imaginary advantages which his country affords. He cares nothing for
+the blame nor for the praise of strangers. His attitude towards the
+whole world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve. His pride seeks
+no nourishment; it lives on itself. It is very remarkable that the two
+people who have arisen from the same stock should differ so radically
+in their way of feeling and speaking.
+
+In aristocratic countries, great families possess enormous privileges,
+on which their pride rests. They consider these privileges as a natural
+right inherent in their person, and their feeling of superiority
+is therefore a peaceful one. They have no reason to boast of the
+prerogatives which everyone concedes to them without question. So, when
+public affairs are directed by an aristocracy, the national pride tends
+to take this reserved, haughty, and independent form.
+
+Under democratic conditions, on the contrary, the least advantage
+which anyone gains has great importance in his eyes; for everyone is
+surrounded by millions very nearly his equal. His pride therefore
+becomes anxious and insatiable; he founds it on miserable trifles and
+defends it obstinately. Again, most Americans have recently acquired
+the advantages which they possess, and therefore have inordinate
+pleasure in contemplating these advantages, and in showing them to
+others; and as these advantages may escape at any moment, they are
+always uneasy about them, and look at them again and again to see that
+they still have them. Men who live in democracies love their country
+as they love themselves, and model their national vanity upon their
+private vanity. The close dependence of this anxious and insatiable
+vanity of democratic peoples upon the equality and fragility of their
+conditions is seen from the fact that the members of the proudest
+nobility show exactly the same passionate jealousy for the most
+trifling circumstances of their life when these become unstable or are
+contested.
+
+
+
+
+IZAAK WALTON
+
+The Compleat Angler
+
+  Izaak Walton, English author and angler, was born at Stafford
+  on August 9, 1593, and until about his fiftieth year lived as a
+  linen-draper in London. He then retired from business and lived
+  at Stafford for a few years; but returned to London in 1650, and
+  spent his closing years at Winchester, where he died on December
+  15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral there. Walton was
+  thrice married, his second wife being sister of the future Bishop
+  Ken. He had a large acquaintance with eminent clergymen, and
+  among his literary friends were Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton.
+  He was author of several charming biographies, including those
+  of the poet Donne, 1640, of Sir Henry Wotton, 1651, of Richard
+  Hooker, 1652, and of George Herbert, 1670. But by far his most
+  famous work is "The Compleat Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's
+  Recreation," published in 1653. There were earlier books on the
+  subject in English, such as Dame Juliana Berner's "Treatise
+  pertaining to Hawking, Hunting, and Fishing with an Angle," 1486;
+  the "Book of Fishing with Hook and Line," 1590; a poem, "The
+  Secrets of Angling," by John Denny, 1613; and several others.
+  The new thing in Walton's book, and the secret of its unfading
+  popularity, is the charm of temperament. Charles Lamb well said
+  that it "breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and
+  simplicity of heart." A sequel to the book, entitled the "Second
+  Part of the Compleat Angler," was written by Charles Cotton, and
+  published in 1676.
+
+
+_The Virtues of Angling_
+
+PISCATOR, VENATOR, AND AUCEPS
+
+_Piscator._ You are well overtaken, gentlemen! A good morning to you
+both! I have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake you,
+hoping your business may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going
+this fine fresh May morning.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your hopes, for my
+purpose is to drink my morning's draught at the Thatched House. And,
+sir, as we are all so happy to have a fine morning, I hope we shall
+each be the happier in each other's company.
+
+_Auceps._ Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company as far as
+Theobald's, for then I turn up to a friend's house, who mews a hawk for
+me. And as the Italians say, good company in a journey maketh the way
+to seem the shorter, I, for my part, promise you that I shall be as
+free and open-hearted as discretion will allow with strangers.
+
+_Piscator._ I am right glad to hear your answers. I shall put on a
+boldness to ask you, sir, whether business or pleasure caused you to be
+up so early, for this other gentleman hath declared he is going to see
+a hawk that a friend mews for him.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, I intend to go hunting the otter.
+
+_Piscator._ Those villainous vermin, for I hate them perfectly, because
+they love fish so well, or rather destroy so much. For I, sir, am a
+brother of the angle.
+
+_Auceps._ And I profess myself a falconer, and have heard many
+grave, serious men scoff at anglers and pity them, as it is a heavy,
+contemptible, dull recreation.
+
+_Piscator._ You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at any
+art or recreation; a little wit mixed with all nature, confidence, and
+malice will do it; but though they often venture boldly, yet they are
+often caught, even in their own trap.
+
+There be many men that are by others taken to be serious, and grave
+men, which we contemn and pity: men that are taken to be grave because
+nature hath made them of a sour complexion--money-getting men, men that
+are condemned to be rich; for these poor, rich men, we anglers pity
+them most perfectly. No, sir! We enjoy a contentedness above the reach
+of such dispositions.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you have almost amazed me; for though I am no scoffer,
+yet I have--I pray let me speak it without offence--always looked upon
+anglers as more patient and simple men than, I fear, I shall find you
+to be.
+
+_Piscator._ Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be
+impatience! As for my simplicity, if by that you mean a harmlessness
+which was usually found in the primitive Christians, who were, as most
+anglers are, followers of peace--then myself and men of my profession
+will be glad to be so understood. But if, by simplicity, you mean to
+express a general defect, I hope in time to disabuse you.
+
+But, gentlemen, I am not so unmannerly as to engross all the discourse
+to myself; I shall be most glad to hear what you can say in the
+commendation of your several recreations.
+
+_Auceps._ The element I use to trade in, the air, is an element of more
+worth than weight; an element that doubtless exceeds both the earth and
+water; in it my noble falcon ascends to such a height as the dull eye
+of man is not able to reach to; my troop of hawks soars up on high, so
+that they converse with the gods.
+
+And more, the worth of this element of air is such that all creatures
+whatsoever stand in need of it. The waters cannot preserve their fish
+without air; witness the not breaking of ice and the result thereof.
+
+_Venator._ Well, sir, I will now take my turn. The earth, that solid,
+settled element, is the one on which I drive my pleasant, wholesome,
+hungry trade. What pleasure doth man take in hunting the stately stag,
+the cunning otter! The earth breeds and nourishes the mighty elephant,
+and also the least of creatures! It puts limits to the proud and raging
+seas, and so preserves both man and beast; daily we see those that are
+shipwrecked and left to feed haddocks; but, Mr. Piscator, I will not be
+so uncivil as not to allow you time for the commendation of angling; I
+doubt we shall hear a watery discourse--and I hope not a long one.
+
+_Piscator._ Gentlemen, my discourse is likely to prove suitable to my
+recreation--calm and quiet.
+
+Water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon which
+the spirit of God did first move. There be those that profess to
+believe that all bodies are water, and may be reduced back into water
+only.
+
+The water is more productive than the earth. The increase of creatures
+that are bred in the water is not only more miraculous, but more
+advantageous to man for the preventing of sickness. It is observed that
+the casting of Lent and other fish days hath doubtless been the cause
+of these many putrid, shaking agues, to which this country of ours is
+now more subject.
+
+To pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths the Romans have made
+fish the mistress of all their entertainments; and have had music to
+usher in their sturgeons, lampreys, and mullets.
+
+_Auceps._ Sir, it is with such sadness that I must part with you here,
+for I see Theobald's house. And so I part full of good thoughts. God
+keep you both.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you said angling was of great antiquity, and a perfect
+art, not easily attained to. I am desirous to hear further concerning
+those particulars.
+
+_Piscator._ Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly?
+A trout! more sharp-sighted than any hawk! Doubt not, angling is an art
+worth your learning. The question is rather, whether you be capable
+of learning it? Angling is like poetry--men are to be born so. Some
+say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood, and Moses makes mention of
+fish-hooks, which must imply anglers.
+
+But as I would rather prove myself a gentleman by being learned, and
+humble, valiant, and inoffensive, virtuous, and communicable, than by
+any fond ostentation of riches, or, wanting those virtues, boast these
+were in my ancestors, so if this antiquity of angling shall be an
+honour to this art, I shall be glad I made mention of it.
+
+I shall tell you that in ancient times a debate hath arisen, whether
+the happiness of man doth consist more in contemplation or action?
+
+Some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of the first by saying
+that the nearer we mortals approach to God by way of imitation,
+the more happy we are. And they say God enjoys Himself only by a
+contemplation of His own infiniteness, eternity, power, goodness and
+the like.
+
+On the contrary, there want not men of equal authority that prefer
+action to be the more excellent, such as experiments in physics for the
+ease and prolongation of man's life. Concerning which two opinions I
+shall forbear to add a third, and tell you, my worthy friend, that both
+these meet together and do most properly belong to the most honest,
+quiet, and harmless art of angling.
+
+An ingenious Spaniard says that "rivers and the inhabitants thereof
+were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without
+consideration."
+
+There be many wonders reported of rivers, as of a river in Epirus, that
+puts out any lighted torch, and kindles any torch that was not lighted;
+the river Selarus, that in a few hours turns a rod to stone, and
+mention is made of the like in England, and many others on historical
+faith.
+
+But to tell you something of the monsters, or fish, call them what you
+will, Pliny says the fish called the Balæna is so long and so broad as
+to take up more length and breadth than two acres of ground; and in the
+river Ganges there be eels thirty feet long.
+
+I know we islanders are averse to the belief of these wonders, but
+there are many strange creatures to be now seen. Did not the Prophet
+David say, "They that occupy themselves in deep water see the wonderful
+works of God"; and the apostles of our Saviour, were not they four
+simple fishermen; He found that the hearts of such men, by nature,
+were fitted for contemplation and quietness--men of sweet and peaceable
+spirits, as indeed most anglers are.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the
+Thatched House, for I thought we had three miles of it. Let us drink a
+civil cup to all lovers of angling, of which number I am now willing
+to count myself, and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the time and
+place appointed, we two will do nothing but talk of fish and fishing.
+
+_Piscator._ 'Tis a match, sir; I will not fail you, God willing, to be
+at Amwell Hill to-morrow before sun-rising.
+
+
+_Master and Pupil_
+
+_Piscator._ Sir, I am right glad to meet you. Come, honest Venator, let
+us be gone; I long to be doing.
+
+_Venator._ Well, let's to your sport of angling.
+
+_Piscator._ With all my heart. But we are not yet come to a likely
+place. Let us walk on. But let us first to an honest alehouse, where my
+hostess can give us a cup of her best drink.
+
+Seneca says that the ancients were so curious in the newness of their
+fish, that they usually did keep them living in glass-bottles in their
+dining-rooms, and did glory much in the entertaining of their friends,
+to have the fish taken from under their tables alive that was instantly
+to be fed upon. Our hostess shall dress us a trout, that we shall
+presently catch, and we, with brother Peter and Goridon, will sup on
+him here this same evening.
+
+_Venator._ And now to our sport.
+
+_Piscator._ This is not a likely place for a trout; the sun is too
+high. But there lie upon the top of the water twenty Chub. Sir, here is
+a trial of my skill! I'll catch only one, and he shall be the big one,
+that has some bruise upon his tail.
+
+_Venator._ I'll sit down and hope well; because you seem so confident.
+
+_Piscator._ Look you, sir! The very one! Oh, 'tis a great logger-headed
+Chub! I'll warrant he will make a good dish of meat.
+
+Under that broad beech tree yonder, I sat down when I was last
+a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a
+friendly contention with the echo that lives in a hollow near the brow
+of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver stream slide
+away, and the lambs sporting harmlessly. And as I sat, these sights so
+possessed my soul, that I thought as the poet hath it:
+
+   "I was for that time lifted above earth;
+    And possess'd joys not promised at my birth."
+
+But, let us further on; and we will try for a Trout. 'Tis now past five
+of the clock.
+
+_Venator._ I have a bite! Oh me! He has broke all; and a good hook
+lost! But I have no fortune! Sure yours is a better rod and tackling.
+
+_Piscator._ Nay, then, take mine, and I will fish with yours. Look you,
+scholar, I have another. I pray, put that net under him, but touch not
+my line. Well done, scholar, I thank you.
+
+And now, having three brace of Trouts, I will tell you a tale as we
+walk back to our hostess.
+
+A preacher that was to procure the approbation of a parish got from
+a fellow preacher the copy of a sermon that was preached with great
+commendation by him that composed it; and though the borrower preached
+it, word for word, yet it was utterly disliked; and on complaining to
+the lender of it, was thus answered: "I lent you indeed my fiddle, but
+not my fiddlestick; for you are to know, everyone cannot make music
+with my words, which are fitted for my own mouth." And though I lend
+you my very rod and tacklings, yet you have not my fiddlestick, that
+is, the skill wherewith I guide it.
+
+_Venator._ Master, you spoke very true. Yonder comes mine hostess to
+call us to supper; and when we have supped we will sing songs which
+shall give some addition of mirth to the company.
+
+_Piscator._ And so say I; for to-morrow we meet again up the water
+towards Waltham.
+
+
+_Fish of English Streams_
+
+_Piscator._ Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, as Dr.
+Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless God could have made a better
+berry, but doubtless God never did"; and so, God never did make a more
+calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
+
+And when I see how pleasantly that meadow looks; and the earth smells
+so sweetly too; I think of them as Charles the Emperor did of the City
+of Florence; "that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but on
+holidays."
+
+To speak of fishes; the Salmon is accounted the king of fresh-water
+fish. He breeds in the rivers in the month of August, and then hastes
+to the sea before winter; where he recovers his strength and comes the
+next summer to the same river; for like persons of riches, he has his
+summer and winter house, to spend his life in, which is, as Sir Francis
+Bacon hath observed, not above ten years.
+
+The Pike, the tyrant of the fresh-waters, is said to be the
+longest-lived of any fresh-water fish, but not usually above forty
+years. Gesner relates of a man watering his mule in a pond, where the
+Pike had devoured all the fish, had the Pike bite his mule's lips; to
+which he hung so fast, the mule did draw him out of the water. And
+this same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland washing clothes in
+a pond, had a Pike bite her by the foot. I have told you who relate
+these things; and shall conclude by telling you, what a wise-man hath
+observed: "It is a hard thing to persuade the belly, because it has no
+ears."
+
+Besides being an eater of great voracity, the Pike is observed to be a
+solitary, melancholy and a bold fish. When he is dressed with a goodly,
+rich sauce, and oysters, this dish of meat is too good for any man, but
+an angler, or a very honest man.
+
+The Carp, that hath only lately been naturalised in England, is said to
+be the queen of rivers, and will grow to a very great bigness; I have
+heard, much above a yard long.
+
+The stately Bream, and the Tench, that physician of fishes, love best
+to live in ponds. In every Tench's head are two little stones which
+physicians make great use of. Rondeletius says, at his being in Rome,
+he saw a great cure done by applying a Tench to the feet of a sick man.
+
+But I will not meddle more with that; there are too many meddlers in
+physic and divinity that think fit to meddle with hidden secrets and so
+bring destruction to their followers.
+
+The Perch is a bold, biting fish, and carries his teeth in his mouth;
+and to affright the Pike and save himself he will set up his fins, like
+as a turkey-cock will set up his tail. If there be twenty or forty in
+a hole, they may be catched one after the other, at one standing; they
+being, like the wicked of this world, not afraid, though their fellows
+and companions perish in their sight.
+
+And now I think best to rest myself, for I have almost spent my spirits
+with talking.
+
+_Venator._ Nay, good master, one fish more! For it rains yet; you know
+our angles are like money put to usury; they may thrive, though we sit
+still. Come, the other fish, good master!
+
+_Piscator._ But shall I nothing from you, that seem to have both a good
+memory and a cheerful spirit?
+
+_Venator._ Yes, master; I will speak you a copy of verses that allude
+to rivers and fishing:
+
+    Come, live with me, and be my love,
+    And we will some new pleasures prove;
+    Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
+    With silken lines, and silver hooks.
+
+    When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
+    Each fish, which every channel hath,
+    Most amorously to thee will swim,
+    Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
+
+    Let others freeze with angling reeds,
+    And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
+    Or treacherously poor fish beget
+    With trangling snare or windowy net;
+
+    For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
+    For thou, thyself, art thine own bait,
+    That fish, that is not catched thereby
+    Is wiser far, alas, than I!
+
+_Piscator._ I thank you for these choice verses. And I will now tell
+you of the Eel, which is a most dainty fish. The Romans have esteemed
+her the Helena of their feasts. Sir Francis Bacon will allow the Eel to
+live but ten years; but he mentions a Lamprey, belonging to the Roman
+Emperor, that was made tame and kept for three-score years; so that
+when she died, Crassus, the orator, lamented her death.
+
+I will tell you next how to make the Eel a most excellent dish of meat.
+
+First, wash him in water and salt, then pull off his skin and clean
+him; then give him three or four scotches with a knife; and then put
+into him sweet herbs, an anchovy and a little nutmeg. Then pull his
+skin over him, and tie him with pack-thread; and baste him with butter,
+and what he drips, be his sauce. And when I dress an Eel thus, I wish
+he were a yard and three-quarters long. But they are not so proper to
+be talked of by me because they make us anglers no sport.
+
+The Barbel, so called by reason of his barb or wattles, and the
+Gudgeon, are both fine fish of excellent shape.
+
+My further purpose was to give you directions concerning Roach and
+Dace, but I will forbear. I see yonder, brother Peter. But I promise
+you, to-morrow as we walk towards London, if I have forgotten anything
+now I will not then keep it from you.
+
+_Venator._ Come, we will all join together and drink a cup to our
+jovial host, and so to bed. I say good-night to everybody.
+
+_Piscator._ And so say I.
+
+
+_Walking Homewards_
+
+_Piscator._ I will tell you, my honest scholar, I once heard one say,
+"I envy not him that eats better meat, or wears better clothes than I
+do; I envy him only that catches more fish than I do."
+
+And there be other little fish that I had almost forgot, such as the
+Minnow or Penk; the dainty Loach; the Miller's-Thumb, of no pleasing
+shape; the Stickle-bag, good only to make sport for boys and women
+anglers.
+
+Well, scholar, I could tell you many things of the rivers of this
+nation, the chief of which is the Thamisis; of fish-ponds, and how to
+breed fish within them, and how to order your lines and baits for the
+several fishes; but, I will tell you some of the thoughts that have
+possessed my soul since we met together. And you shall join with me
+in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for our
+happiness; which may appear the greater when we consider how many, even
+at this very time, lie under the torment, and the stone, the gout, and
+tooth-ache; and all these we are free from.
+
+Since we met, others have met disasters, some have been blasted, and
+we have been free from these. What is a far greater mercy, we are free
+from the insupportable burden of an accusing conscience.
+
+Let me tell you, there be many that have forty times our estates, that
+would give the greatest part of it to be healthful and cheerful like
+us; who have eat, and drank, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and
+slept; and rose next day, and cast away care, and sung, and laughed,
+and angled again.
+
+I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy that he has no leisure
+to laugh. He says that Solomon says, "The diligent man makest
+rich"; but, he considers not what was wisely said by a man of great
+observation, "That there be as many miseries beyond riches, as on this
+side them."
+
+Let me tell you, scholar, Diogenes walked one day through a country
+fair, where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and
+fiddles, and many other gimcracks; and said to his friend, "Lord, how
+many things are there in this world Diogenes hath no need!"
+
+All this is told you to incline you to thankfulness: though the prophet
+David was guilty of murder and many other of the most deadly sins, yet
+he was said to be a man after God's own heart, because he abounded with
+thankfulness.
+
+Well, scholar, I have almost tired myself, and I fear, more than tired
+you.
+
+But, I now see Tottenham High Cross, which puts a period to our too
+long discourse, in which my meaning was to plant that in your mind with
+which I labour to possess my own soul--that is, a meek and thankful
+heart. And, to that end, I have showed you that riches without them do
+not make a man happy. But riches with them remove many fears and cares.
+Therefore, my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or
+contentedly poor; but be sure your riches be justly got; for it is well
+said by Caussin, "He that loses his conscience, has nothing left that
+is worth the keeping." So look to that. And in the next place, look to
+your health, for health is a blessing that money cannot buy. As for
+money, neglect it not, and, if you have a competence, enjoy it with a
+cheerful, thankful heart.
+
+_Venator._ Well, master, I thank you for all your good directions, and
+especially for this last, of thankfulness. And now being at Tottenham
+High Cross, I will requite a part of your courtesies with a drink
+composed of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which, all put together,
+make a drink like nectar indeed; and too good for anybody, but us
+anglers. So, here is a full glass to you.
+
+_Piscator._ And I to you, sir.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, your company and discourse have been so pleasant that I
+truly say, that I have only lived since I enjoyed it an turned angler,
+and not before.
+
+I will not forget the doctrines Socrates taught his scholars, that they
+should not think to be honoured for being philosophers, so much as to
+honour philosophy by the virtue of their lives. You advised me to the
+like concerning angling, and to live like those same worthy men. And
+this is my firm resolution.
+
+And when I would beget content, I will walk the meadows, by some
+gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care.
+That is my purpose; and so, "let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be
+with mine."
+
+_Piscator._ And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and be quiet, and
+go a-angling.
+
+
+
+
+_Index_
+
+
+  In the following Index the Roman Numerals refer to the _Volumes_,
+  and the Arabic Numerals to _Pages_. The numerals in heavy, or
+  =black-faced= type, indicate the place where the _biographical_
+  notice will be found.
+
+  Abbé Constantine, The  V 38
+
+  ABÉLARD AND HÉLOÏSE  =IX= 1
+
+  ABOUT, EDMOND  =I= 1
+
+  Adam Bede  IV 33
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH  =XVI= 1;  XX 1
+
+  Advancement of Learning, The  XIII 321
+
+  Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, The  II 41
+
+  Advice to Young Men  XX 78
+
+  ÆSCHYLUS  =XVI= 16 _seq._
+
+  ÆSOP  =XX= 10
+
+  Africa: see Vol. XIX
+
+  Agamemnon, The  XVI 16
+
+  Age of Reason, The  XIII 196
+
+  Aids to Reflection  XIII 84
+
+  AINSWORTH, HARRISON  =I= 17
+
+  Albert N'Yanza, The  XIX 1
+
+  Alcestis  XVI 336
+
+  Alice's Adventures in Wonderland  II 176
+
+  All for Love  XVI 322
+
+  Alton Locke  V 236
+
+  Ambrosio, or the Monk  VI 51
+
+  Amelia  IV 122
+
+  America, History of:
+    Mexico  XII 19;
+    Peru  XII 30;
+    United States  XII 1;
+    see also WASHINGTON, FRANKLIN, etc.
+
+  ----, Democracy in  XX 324
+
+  ----, Wanderings in South  XIX 313
+
+  Anabasis, The  XI 110
+
+  Anatomy of Melancholy, The  XX 41
+
+  ---- of Vertebrates  XV 280
+
+  ANDERSEN, HANS CHRISTIAN  =I= 30
+
+  Angler, The Complete  XX 334
+
+  Animal Chemistry  XV 203
+
+  Anna Karenina  VIII 205
+
+  Annals of the Parish  IV 204
+
+  ---- of Tacitus  XI 156
+
+  Antigone  XVIII 237
+
+  Antiquary, The  VII 241
+
+  Antiquities of the Jews  XI 43
+
+  APOCRYPHA, THE  =XIII= 1
+
+  Apologia Pro Vita Sua  XIII 185
+
+  Apology, or Defence of Socrates  XIV 75
+
+  APULEIUS  =I= 45
+
+  ARABIAN NIGHTS  =I= 61
+
+  Arcadia  VIII 54
+
+  Areopagitica  XX 257
+
+  ARIOSTO, LUDOVICO  =XVI= 51
+
+  ARISTOPHANES  =XVI= 64 _seq._
+
+  ARISTOTLE  =XIII= 291
+
+  Arne  I 274
+
+  ARNOLD, MATTHEW  =XX= 18
+
+  Arnold, Life of Thomas  X 260
+
+  Astronomy, Outlines of  XV 146
+
+  Atala  II 224
+
+  Atta Troll  XVII 50
+
+  AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE  =I= 79
+
+  AUERBACH, BERTHOLD  =I= 93
+
+  AUGUSTINE, SAINT  =IX= 24;  XIII 29
+
+  AURELIUS (MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS)  =XIII= 307
+
+  Aurora Leigh  XVI 144
+
+  AUSTEN, JANE  =I= 109 _seq._
+
+  Authority of Scripture, The  XIII 129
+
+  Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle  IX 91
+
+  Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini  IX 120
+
+  ---- of Benjamin Franklin  IX 247
+
+  ---- of Flavius Josephus  X 61
+
+  Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The  XX 181
+
+
+  BACON, FRANCIS  =XIII= 321
+
+  BAGEHOT, WALTER  =XII= 88
+
+  BAILEY, PHILIP JAMES  =XVI= 86
+
+  BAKER, SIR SAMUEL  =XIX= 1
+
+  BALZAC, HONORÉ DE  =I= 188 _seq._
+
+  Barber of Seville, The  XVI 101
+
+  Barchester Towers  VIII 233
+
+  Barnaby Rudge  III 53
+
+  BAXTER, RICHARD  =XIII= 37
+
+  Beaconsfield, Earl of: see DISRAELI, BENJAMIN
+
+  BEAUMARCHAIS, P.A. CARON DE  =XVI= 101 _seq._
+
+  BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER  =XVI= 133
+
+  BECKFORD, WILLIAM  =I= 244
+
+  BEHN, APHRA  =I= 255
+
+  Belinda  IV 13
+
+  BELLAMY, EDWARD  =XIV= 173
+
+  BENTHAM, JEREMY  =XIV= 186
+
+  Bérénice  XVIII 106
+
+  BERGERAC, CYRANO DE  =I= 265
+
+  BERKELEY, GEORGE  =XIII= 329
+
+  Bernard, Life of Saint  X 135
+
+  Betrothed, The  VI 169
+
+  Beyle, Henri: see STENDHAL
+
+  Bible in Spain, The  XIX 22
+
+  Biographia Literaria  IX 166
+
+  Biology, Principles of  XIV 133
+
+  Birds, The  XVI 64
+
+  BJÖRNSON, BJÖRNSTJERNE  =I= 274 _seq._
+
+  BLACK, WILLIAM  =I= 300
+
+  Black Prophet, The  II 164
+
+  ---- Tulip, The  III 281
+
+  BLACKMORE, R. D.  =I= 313
+
+  Bleak House  III 66
+
+  BLOCH, JEAN  =XIV= 199
+
+  Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A  XVI 154
+
+  BOCCACCIO, GIOVANNI  =I= 327
+
+  BOOK OF THE DEAD  =XIII= 47
+
+  BORROW, GEORGE  =II= 1 _seq._;  XIX 13 _seq._
+
+  BOSWELL, JAMES  =IX= 37;  XIX 37
+
+  Bothwell  IV 301
+
+  BRADDON, M. E.  =II= 27
+
+  BRADLEY, EDWARD ("Cuthbert Bede")  =II= 41
+
+  BRAHMANISM, BOOKS OF  =XIII= 59
+
+  BRAMWELL, JOHN MILNE  =XV= 1
+
+  BRANDES, GEORGE  =XX= 31
+
+  BREWSTER, SIR DAVIS  =IX= 66
+
+  BRONTË, CHARLOTTE  =II= 54 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 259
+
+  BRONTË, EMILY  =II= 97
+
+  BROWNE, SIR THOMAS  =XIII= 66
+
+  BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT  =XVI= 144
+
+  BROWNING, ROBERT  =XVI= 154 _seq._
+
+  BRUCE, JAMES  =XIX= 47
+
+  BUCHANAN, ROBERT  =II= 111
+
+  BUCKLE, HENRY  =XII= 76
+
+  BUFFON, COMTE DE  =XV= 12
+
+  BUNYAN, JOHN  =II= 124 _seq._;  =IX= 79
+
+  BURCKHARDT, JOHN LEWIS  =XIX= 57
+
+  BURKE, EDMUND  =XIV= 212
+
+  BURNEY, FANNY  =II= 150
+
+  Burns, Life of Robert  X 86
+
+  BURTON, ROBERT  =XX= 41
+
+  BURTON, SIR RICHARD  =XIX= 67
+
+  BUTLER, SAMUEL  =XVI= 177
+
+  BUTLER, SIR WILLIAM  =XIX=79 _seq._
+
+  BYRON, LORD  =XVI= 188 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  X 122
+
+
+  CÆSAR, JULIUS  =XI= 144
+
+  CALDERON DE LA BARCA  =XVI= 206
+
+  Caleb Williams  IV 241
+
+  Caliph Vathek, History of  I 244
+
+  Called Back  II 274
+
+  CALVIN, JOHN  =XIII= 75
+
+  Canterbury Tales, The  XVI 226
+
+  Capital: A Critical Analysis  XIV 282
+
+  Captain's Daughter, The  VII 42
+
+  Captain Singleton  III 41
+
+  CARLETON, WILLIAM  =II= 164
+
+  CARLYLE, ALEXANDER  =IX= 91
+
+  CARLYLE, THOMAS  =IX= 99;  XII 147;  XII 188;  XX 50 _seq._
+
+  Carmen  VI 239
+
+  CARROLL, LEWIS  =II= 176
+
+  Castle of Otranto  VIII 303
+
+  ---- Rackrent  IV 21
+
+  Catiline, Conspiracy of  XI 168
+
+  Cato: A Tragedy  XVI 1
+
+  CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS  =XVI= 219
+
+  CELLINI, BENVENUTO  =IX= 120
+
+  Cellular Pathology  XV 292
+
+  CERVANTES, MIGUEL  =II= 198
+
+  CHAMBERS, ROBERT  =XV= 22
+
+  CHAMISSO, ADALBERT VON  =II= 212
+
+  Characters  XX 193
+
+  Charles XII, History of  XII 280
+
+  ---- O'Malley  VI 26
+
+  Chartreuse of Parma, The  VIII 103
+
+  CHATEAUBRIAND, FRANÇOIS RENÉ VICOMTE DE  =II= 224;  IX 124
+
+  CHAUCER, GEOFFREY  =XVI= 226
+
+  Chemical History of a Candle, The  XV 85
+
+  ---- Philosophy, Elements of  XV 64
+
+  Chemistry, Animal  XV 203
+
+  CHERBULIEZ, CHARLES VICTOR  =II= 235
+
+  CHESTERFIELD, EARL OF  =IX= 144
+
+  Childe Harold's Pilgrimage  XVI 188
+
+  Childhood, Boyhood, Youth  X 291
+
+  China's Four Books: see CONFUCIANISM
+
+  Christ, Imitation of  XIII 160
+
+  Christian Religion, Institution of the  XIII 75
+
+  Christianity, History of Latin: see Papacy
+
+  Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland  XI 286
+
+  CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS  =IX= 155;  XX 70
+
+  Cid, The  XVI 267
+
+  Citizen of the World, The  XX 149
+
+  City of Dreadful Night, The  XVIII 293
+
+  ---- of God, The  XIII 29
+
+  Civilisation in Europe, History of  XI 241
+
+  Clarendon, Earl of: see HYDE, EDWARD
+
+  Clarissa Harlowe  VII 118
+
+  Cloister and the Hearth, The  VII 92
+
+  COBBETT, WILLIAM  =XX= 78
+
+  Cobden, Life of Richard  X 144
+
+  COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR  =IX= 166;  XIII 84
+
+  Collegians, The  V 13
+
+  COLLINS, WILKIE  =II= 249 _seq._
+
+  Columbus, Life of Christopher  X 41
+
+  Commentaries on the Gallic War  XI 144
+
+  Complete Angler, The  XX 334
+
+  COMTE, AUGUSTE  =XIV= 244
+
+  Concerning Friendship  XX 70
+
+  ---- the Human Understanding  XIV 56
+
+  Confessions, My (Count Tolstoy)  X 301
+
+  ---- of Augustine  IX 24
+
+  ---- of an English Opium Eater  IX 189
+
+  ---- of Jean Jacques Rousseau  X 190
+
+  CONFUCIANISM  =XIII= 93
+
+  CONGREVE, WILLIAM  =XVI= 246 _seq._
+
+  Coningsby  III 227
+
+  Conspiracy of Catiline, The  XI 168
+
+  Consuelo  VII 205
+
+  Conversations with Eckerman  IX 303
+
+  ----, Imaginary  XX 203
+
+  CONWAY, HUGH  =II= 274
+
+  COOK, JAMES  =XIX= 100
+
+  COOPER, FENIMORE  =II= 285 _seq._
+
+  Corinne  VIII 89
+
+  CORNEILLE, PIERRE  =XVI= 267 _seq._
+
+  Corsican Brothers, The  III 292
+
+  Cosmos, A Sketch of the Universe  XV 158
+
+  Count of Monte Cristo, The  III 304
+
+  Courtships of (Queen) Elizabeth, The  X 13
+
+  COWPER, WILLIAM  =IX= 177;  XVI 290
+
+  CRAIK, MRS.  =II= 312
+
+  Cranford  IV 215
+
+  Creation, Vestiges of  XV 22
+
+  Crescent and the Cross, The  XIX 299
+
+  Critique of Practical Reason  XIV 34
+
+  ---- of Pure Reason  XIV 24
+
+  CROLY, GEORGE  =II= 324
+
+  Cromwell, Letters and Speeches of Oliver  IX 99
+
+  Cuthbert Bede: see BRADLEY, EDWARD
+
+  CUVIER, GEORGES  =XV= 33
+
+
+  DAMPIER, WILLIAM  =XIX= 112
+
+  DANA, RICHARD HENRY  =II= 335
+
+  DANTE ALIGHIERI  =XVI= 300 _seq._
+
+  DARWIN, CHARLES  =XV= 43;  XIX 124
+
+  DAUDET, ALPHONSE  =III= 1
+
+  Daughter of Heth, A  I 300
+
+  David Copperfield  III 79
+
+  DA VINCI, LEONARDO  =XX= 227
+
+  DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY  =XV= 64
+
+  Dawn of Civilisation, The  XI 1
+
+  DAY, THOMAS  =III= 14
+
+  Dead Man's Diary, A  V 224
+
+  Death of the Gods, The  VI 227
+
+  Decameron, The, or Ten Days' Entertainment  I 327
+
+  Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire  XI 174 _seq._;  XI 229
+
+  Deeds and Words  X 1
+
+  DEFOE, DANIEL  =III= 26 _seq._;  XX 90
+
+  Democracy in America  XX 324
+
+  DEMOSTHENES  =XX= 99
+
+  DE QUINCEY, THOMAS  =IX= 189
+
+  DESCARTES, RENÉ  =XIII= 337
+
+  Desert, The  XIX 201
+
+  Dialogues on the System of the World  XV 105
+
+  Diary of John Evelyn  IX 213
+
+  ---- of Samuel Pepys  X 154
+
+  DICKENS, CHARLES  =III= 53 _seq._
+
+  Discourse on Method  XIII 337
+
+  Discourses and Encheiridion (Epictetus)  XIII 358
+
+  ---- with Himself (M. Aurelius)  XIII 307
+
+  Discovery of the Source of the Nile  XIX 251
+
+  DISRAELI, BENJAMIN  =III= 227 _seq._
+
+  Divine Comedy, The  XVI 300 _seq._
+
+  Doctor in Spite of Himself, The  XVII 362
+
+  Dombey and Son  III 94
+
+  Don Juan  XVI 197
+
+  ---- Quixote, Life and Adventures of  II 198
+
+  Drink  VIII 318
+
+  DRYDEN, JOHN  =XVI= 322
+
+  DUBOIS, FÉLIX  =XIX= 136
+
+  DUMAS, ALEXANDRE (_père_)  =III= 269 _seq._;  =IX= 201 (Memoirs)
+
+  Dutch Republic, Rise of the  XII 220
+
+
+  Earth, Theory of the  XV 170
+
+  EBERS, GEORGE  =IV= 1
+
+  Eckerman, Goethe's Conversations with  IX 303
+
+  EDGEWORTH, MARIA  =IV= 13 _seq._
+
+  Education  XIV 120
+
+  Egypt:
+    Ancient History  XI 1 _seq._;
+    Mediæval History  XI 272;
+    Religion  XIII 47
+
+  Egyptian Princess, An  IV 1
+
+  Electricity, Experimental Researches in  XV 75
+
+  ---- and Magnetism, Treatise on  XV 227
+
+  Elements of Chemical Philosophy  XV 64
+
+  ELIOT, GEORGE  =IV= 33 _seq._
+
+  ELIOT, SAMUEL  =XII= 1
+
+  Elizabeth, Queen:
+    Courtships  X 13;
+    "Life"  X 270
+
+  ELPHINSTONE, MOUNTSTUART  =XII= 246
+
+  Elsie Venner  V 87
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO  =XIII= 349;  XX 109 _seq._
+
+  Emma  I 162
+
+  England, History of:
+    Buckle  XII 76;
+    Freeman  XI 298;
+    Froude  XI 315;
+    Holinshed  XI 286;
+    Macaulay  XII 55;
+    Rebellion (1642)  XII 41
+
+  English Constitution, The  XII 88
+
+  ----, Letters on the  XIX 275
+
+  ---- Literature, History of  XX 298
+
+  ---- Poets, Lectures on the  XX 169
+
+  ---- Traits  XX 109
+
+  Eothen  XIV 159
+
+  EPICTETUS  =XIII= 358
+
+  Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems of Martial  XVII 295
+
+  ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS  =XX= 126 _seq._
+
+  ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN  =IV= 97
+
+  Essay on Liberty  XX 248
+
+  ---- on Man  XVIII 94
+
+  Essays in Criticism  XX 18
+
+  ---- in Eugenics  XV 111
+
+  ---- of Montaigne  XIV 64
+
+  ---- Moral and Political  XIV 13
+
+  Ethics of Aristotle  XIII 291
+
+  ---- of Spinoza  XIV 160
+
+  Eugene Aram  VI 87
+
+  Eugénie Grandet  I 188
+
+  EURIPIDES  =XVI= 336
+
+  Europe:
+    History of Civilisation in  XI 241;
+    in Middle Ages  XI 255;
+    Literature of  XX 158
+
+  Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie  XVII 241
+
+  Evelina  II 150
+
+  EVELYN, JOHN  =IX= 213
+
+  EVERYMAN  =XVI= 348
+
+  Every Man in His Humour  XVII 195
+
+  Evolution of Man, The  XV 123
+
+  Existence of God, The  XIII 117
+
+  Experimental Researches in Electricity  XV 75
+
+
+  Fables of Æsop  XX 10
+
+  Familiar Colloquies  XX 126
+
+  FARADAY, MICHAEL  =XV= 75 _seq._
+
+  Fathers and Sons  VIII 245
+
+  Faust  XVI 362
+
+  Faustus, Tragical History of Dr.  XVII 282
+
+  Felix Holt, The Radical  IV 45
+
+  FÉNELON, DE LA MOTHE  =XIII= 117
+
+  Ferdinand and Isabella, Reign of  XII 271
+
+  Festus: A Poem  XVI 86
+
+  FEUILLET, OCTAVE  =IV= 100
+
+  FIELDING, HENRY  =IV= 122 _seq._
+
+  Figaro, The Marriage of XVI
+
+  File No. 113  IV 192
+
+  FINLAY, GEORGE  =XII= 206
+
+  FLAMMARION, CAMILLE  =IV= 168
+
+  FLETCHER; See BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
+
+  FOREL, AUGUSTE  =XV= 95
+
+  FORSTER, JOHN  =IX= 225
+
+  FOUQUÉ, DE LA MOTTE  =IV= 180
+
+  FOX, GEORGE,  =IX= 238
+
+  Fragments of an Intimate Diary  IX 13
+
+  France, History of:
+    Girondists  XII 165;
+    Louis XIV,  XII 101;
+    Modern Régime  XII 177;
+    Old Régime  XII 117;
+    Revolution (Burke)  XIV 212, (Carlyle)  XII 147, (Mignet)  XII 129;
+    see also (Memoirs, etc.) La Rochefoucauld, Mirabeau, de Staal,
+          de Sévigné, etc.
+
+  ----, Travels in  XIX 327
+
+  ---- and Italy, Sentimental Journey Through  XIX 263
+
+  Frankenstein  VIII 41
+
+  FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN  =IX= 247
+
+  Frederick the Great  XII 188
+
+  FREEMAN, EDWARD A.  =XI= 298
+
+  Friendship, Concerning  XX 70
+
+  Frogs, The  XVI 72
+
+  FROUDE, JAMES ANTHONY  =XI= 315
+
+  Future of War, The  XIV 199
+
+
+  GABORIAU, ÉMILE  =IV= 192
+
+  GALILEO GALILEI  =XIII= 129;  =XV= 105
+
+  Gallic War, Cæsar's Commentaries on the  XI 144
+
+  GALT, JOHN  =IV= 204
+
+  GALTON, SIR FRANCIS  =XV= 111
+
+  Garden of Allah, The  V 73
+
+  Gargantua and Pantagruel  VII 54
+
+  GASKELL, MRS.  =IV= 215 _seq._;  IX 259
+
+  Geoffry Hamlyn  V 306
+
+  Geology, Principles of XV
+
+  GEORGE, HENRY  =XIV= 238
+
+  Germania  XX 286
+
+  Germany, On  XX 276
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM  =XX= 140
+
+  GIBBON, EDWARD  =IX= 272 (Memoirs);  =XI= 174 _seq._;  XI 229
+
+  Gil Blas  VI 14
+
+  Girondists, History of the  XII 165
+
+  GODWIN, WILLIAM  =IV= 241
+
+  GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON  =IV= 253 _seq._;  IX 283 _seq._;  XVI 362;
+         XVII 1 _seq._
+
+  Goetz von Berlichingen  XVII 1
+
+  GOGOL, NICOLAI  =XVII= 30
+
+  Golden Ass, The  I 45
+
+  GOLDSMITH, OLIVER  =IV= 275 _seq._;  XVII 39;  XX 149
+
+  GONCOURT, EDMOND and JULES DE  =IV= 289
+
+  Götterdämmerung  XVIII 336
+
+  Grace Abounding  IX 79
+
+  Grammont, Memoirs of the Count de  IX 324
+
+  GRANT, JAMES  =IV= 301
+
+  GRAY, MAXWELL  =V= 1
+
+  GRAY, THOMAS  =IX= 315
+
+  Great Expectations  III 106
+
+  ---- Lone Land, The  XIX 79
+
+  Greece, History of  XI 81 _seq._;
+    (modern)  XII 206
+
+  GRIFFIN, GERALD  =V= 13
+
+  GROTE, GEORGE  =XI= 122
+
+  GUIZOT, FRANÇOIS PIERRE GUILLAME  =XI= 241
+
+  Gulliver's Travels  VIII 157
+
+  Guy Mannering  VII 255
+
+
+  HABBERTON, JOHN  =V= 26
+
+  HAECKEL, ERNST  =XV= 123
+
+  Hajji Baba of Ispahan, The Adventures of  VI 276
+
+  HAKLUYT, RICHARD  =XIX= 148
+
+  HALEVY, LUDOVIC  =V= 38
+
+  HALLAM, HENRY  =XI= 255;  XX 158
+
+  HAMILTON, ANTHONY  =IX= 324
+
+  Hamlet  XVIII 170
+
+  Handy Andy  VI 75
+
+  Hard Cash  VII 68
+
+  ---- Times  III 118
+
+  HARVEY, WILLIAM  =XV= 136
+
+  HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL  =V= 50 _seq._;  IX 336
+
+  HAZLITT, WILLIAM  =XX= 169
+
+  Headlong Hall  VII 1
+
+  Heart of Midlothian, The  VII 267
+
+  Heaven and Hell  XIII 249
+
+  HEGEL, GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH  =XIII= 138;  XIV 1
+
+  HEINE, HEINRICH  =XVII= 50
+
+  Helen's Babies  V 26
+
+  Henry Masterton  V 187
+
+  Hereward the Wake  V 248
+
+  Hernani  XVII 110
+
+  HERODOTUS  =XI= 81
+
+  Heroes and Hero Worship, On  XX 50
+
+  HERSCHEL, SIR JOHN  =XV= 146
+
+  Hesperus  VII 143
+
+  Hiawatha, The Song of  XVII 250
+
+  HICHENS, ROBERT  =V= 73
+
+  HINDUISM, BOOKS OF  =XIII= 150
+
+  History, Philosophy of,  XIV 1
+
+  ---- of Philosophy  XIV 45
+
+  ---- of the Caliph Vathek  I 244
+
+  HOBBES, THOMAS  =XIV= 249
+
+  HOLINSHED, RAPHAEL  =XI= 286
+
+  Holland: See Dutch Republic and United Netherlands
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL  =V= 87;  XX 181
+
+  Holy Roman Empire, History of  XI 229;
+    see also Papacy
+
+  ---- War, The  II 124
+
+  HOMER  =XVII= 66 _seq._
+
+  HORACE (Q. HORATIUS FLACCUS)  =XVII= 91
+
+  House of the Seven Gables, The  V 60
+
+  Household of Sir Thomas More, The  VI 155
+
+  Hudibras  XVI 177
+
+  HUGHES, THOMAS  =V= 99 _seq._
+
+  Hugo, Victor  =V= 122 _seq._;  =X= 1;  XVII 110 _seq._
+
+  HUMBOLDT, ALEXANDER VON  =XV= 158
+
+  HUME, DAVID  =XIV= 13
+
+  HUME, MARTIN  =X= 13
+
+  HUTTON, JAMES  =XV= 170
+
+  HYDE, EDWARD (Earl of Clarendon)  =XII= 41
+
+  Hypatia  V 260
+
+  Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory  XV 1
+
+
+  IBSEN, HENRIK  =XVII= 171 _seq._
+
+  Idylls of the King  XVIII 261
+
+  Iliad, The  XVII 66
+
+  Imaginary Conversations  XX 203
+
+  Imitation of Christ, The  XIII 160
+
+  Improvisatore, The  I 30
+
+  INCHBALD, MRS. (ELIZABETH)  =V= 174
+
+  India, History of:  XII 246;
+    Religion: see BRAHMANISM, HINDUISM
+
+  In God's Way  I 287
+
+  ---- Memoriam  XVIII 277
+
+  ---- Praise of Folly  XX 132
+
+  Insects, Senses of  XV 95
+
+  Inspector General, The  XVII 30
+
+  Institution of the Christian Religion  XIII 75
+
+  Introduction to the Literature of Europe  XX 158
+
+  Iphigenia in Tauris  XVII 18
+
+  Ironmaster, The  VI 314
+
+  IRVING, WASHINGTON  =X= 41
+
+  It Is Never Too Late To Mend  VII 79
+
+  Ivanhoe  VII 280
+
+
+  JAMES, G. P. R.  =V= 187
+
+  Jane Eyre  II 54
+
+  Jerusalem Delivered  XVIII 250
+
+  Jesus, Life of  XIII 231
+
+  Jews:
+    History and Antiquities of  XI 43 _seq._;
+    Religion (TALMUD)  XIII 259
+
+  John Halifax, Gentleman  II 312
+
+  JOHNSON, SAMUEL  =V= 199;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 37
+
+  JOKAI, MAURICE  =V= 212
+
+  Jonathan Wild  IV 133
+
+  JONSON, BEN  =XVII= 195
+
+  Joseph Andrews  IV 143
+
+  JOSEPHUS, FLAVIUS  =X= 61;  XI 43
+
+  Joshua Davidson  VI 63
+
+  Journal of George Fox  IX 238
+
+  ---- of the Plague Year, A  XX 90
+
+  ---- to Stella  X 282
+
+  ---- of a Tour to the Hebrides  XIX 37
+
+  ---- of John Wesley  X 327
+
+  ---- of John Woolman  X 341
+
+  Journey Round My Room, A  VI 136
+
+  JUVENAL  =XVII= 207
+
+
+  KANT, IMMANUEL  =XIV= 24 _seq._
+
+  KEMPIS, THOMAS À  =XIII= 160
+
+  Kenilworth  VII 293
+
+  KERNAHAN, COULSON  =V= 224
+
+  King Amuses Himself, The  XVII 145
+
+  ---- of the Mountains, The  I 1
+
+  KINGLAKE, A. W.  =XIX= 159
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES  =V= 236 _seq._
+
+  ----, Henry  V 306
+
+  KLOPSTOCK, FRIEDRICH GOTTLIEB  =XVII= 217
+
+  Knights, The  XVI 79
+
+  KORAN, THE  =XIII= 169
+
+
+  LA BRUYÈRE  =XX= 193
+
+  Lady Audley's Secret  II 27
+
+  ---- of the Lake, The  XVIII 160
+
+  LAMARCK, JEAN BAPTISTE  =XV= 179
+
+  LAMARTINE, A. M. L. DE  =XII= 165
+
+  LAMB, CHARLES and MARY  =XVIII= 170
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE  =XX= 203
+
+  LANE-POOLE, STANLEY  =XI= 272
+
+  Laocoon  XX 239
+
+  LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, FRANÇOIS DUC DE  =X= 203 (Memoirs);  XX 215
+
+  Last of the Barons, The  VI 113
+
+  ---- of the Mohicans, The  II 285
+
+  ---- Days of Pompeii, The  VI 99
+
+  LAVATER, JOHANN  =XV= 191
+
+  Lavengro  II 1
+
+  Laws, The Spirit of  XIV 306
+
+  LAYARD, AUSTEN HENRY  =XIX= 171
+
+  Lazarillo de Tormes  VI 217
+
+  Lectures on the English Poets  XX 169
+
+  LE FANU, SHERIDAN  =VI= 1
+
+  Legend of the Ages, The  XVII 159
+
+  Legislation, Principles of Morals and  XIV 186
+
+  LEONARDO DA VINCI  =XX= 227
+
+  LE SAGE, RENÉ  =VI= 14
+
+  LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM  =XVII= 226;  XX 239
+
+  Letters of Abélard and Héloïse  IX 1
+
+  ---- of Cicero  IX 155
+
+  ---- on the English  XIX 275
+
+  ---- of Thomas Gray  IX 315
+
+  ---- to His Son, Lord Chesterfield's  IX 144
+
+  ---- of Pliny the Younger  X 166
+
+  ---- to a Provincial  XIII 209
+
+  ---- of Mme. de Sévigné  X 216
+
+  ---- Written in the Years 1782-86  IX 177
+
+  ---- to Zelter  IX 283
+
+  ---- and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Carlyle's  IX 99
+
+  LEVER, CHARLES  =VI= 26 _seq._
+
+  Leviathan, The  XIV 249
+
+  LEWES, GEORGE HENRY  =XIV= 45
+
+  LEWES, M. G.  =VI= 51
+
+  Liar, The  XVI 279
+
+  Liberty, Essay on  XX 248
+
+  LIEBIG, JUSTUS VON  =XV= 203
+
+  Life, Prolongation of  XV 246
+
+  Life of Thomas Arnold  X 260
+
+  ---- of Saint Bernard  X 135
+
+  ---- of Robert Burns  X 86
+
+  ---- of Charlotte Brontë  IX 259
+
+  ---- of Lord Byron  X 122
+
+  ---- of Cobden  X 144
+
+  ---- of Christopher Columbus  X 41
+
+  ---- of Queen Elizabeth  X 270
+
+  ---- of Goldsmith  IX 225
+
+  ---- of Jesus  XIII 231
+
+  ---- of Dr. Johnson  IX 37
+
+  ---- of Nelson  X 226
+
+  ---- of Sir Isaac Newton  IX 66
+
+  ---- of Pitt  X 248
+
+  ---- of Girolamo Savonarola  X 312
+
+  ---- of Schiller  IX 111
+
+  ---- of Sir Walter Scott  X 70
+
+  ---- of George Washington  X 51
+
+  LINNAEUS, CAROLUS  =XIX= 181
+
+  LINTON, MRS. LYNN  =VI= 63
+
+  Literature, History of English  XX 298
+
+  ----, Main Currents of 19th Century  XX 31
+
+  ---- of Europe, Introduction to the  XX 158
+
+  ----: see also M. ARNOLD, HAZLITT, etc.
+
+  Little Dorrit  III 131
+
+  LIVINGSTONE, DAVID  =XIX= 191
+
+  LOCKE, JOHN  =XIV= 56
+
+  LOCKHART, JOHN GIBSON  =X= 70
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH  =XVII= 241 _seq._
+
+  Looking Backward  XIV 173
+
+  Lorna Doone  I 313
+
+  LORRIS and DE MEUN, DE  =XVIII= 117
+
+  Lost Sir Massingberd  VI 336
+
+  LOTI, PIERRE  =XIX= 201
+
+  Louis XIV, The Age of  XII 101
+
+  Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots, The  X 27
+
+  ---- Letters of Abélard and Héloïse  IX 1
+
+  LOVER, SAMUEL  =VI= 75
+
+  LUCRETIUS  =XVII= 261
+
+  LUTHER, MARTIN  =X= 102
+
+  LYELL, SIR CHARLES  =XV= 215
+
+  LYTTON, EDWARD BULWER  =VI= 87 _seq._
+
+
+  MACAULAY, LORD  =XII= 55
+
+  Macbeth  XVIII 180
+
+  MACHIAVELLI, NICCOLO  =XIV= 261
+
+  MACKENZIE, HENRY  =VI= 124
+
+  MACPHERSON, JAMES  =XVII= 272
+
+  Magic Skin, The  I 213
+
+  Magnetism, Treatise on Electricity and  XV 227
+
+  Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature  XX 31
+
+  MAISTRE, XAVIER DE  =VI= 136
+
+  MALORY, SIR THOMAS  =VI= 145
+
+  MALTHUS, T. R.  =XIV= 270
+
+  Man, Essay on  XVIII 94
+
+  ----, Evolution of  XV 123
+
+  ----, Nature of  XV 238
+
+  ----, The Rights of  XIV 324
+
+  ---- of Feeling, The  VI 124
+
+  ---- Who Laughs, The  V 162
+
+  MANDEVILLE, SIR JOHN  =XIX= 210
+
+  MANNING, ANNE  =VI= 155
+
+  Mansfield Park  I 150
+
+  Mansie Wauch  VI 262
+
+  MANZONI, ALESSANDRO  =VI= 169
+
+  Marguerite de Valois  III 269
+
+  Marion de Lorme  XVII 123
+
+  MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER  =XVII= 282
+
+  Marmion  XVIII 147
+
+  Marriage of Figaro, The  XVI 116
+
+  MARRYAT, CAPTAIN  =VI= 181 _seq._
+
+  MARTIAL  =XVII= 295
+
+  Martin Chuzzlewit  III 143
+
+  Mary Barton  IV 228
+
+  ---- Queen of Scots, Love Affairs of  X 27
+
+  MARX, KARL  =XIV= 282
+
+  MASPERO, GASTON  =XI= 1 _seq._
+
+  MASSINGER, PHILIP  =XVII= 305
+
+  Master Builder, The  XVII 171
+
+  MATURIN, CHARLES  =VI= 205
+
+  Mauprat  VII 217
+
+  MAXWELL, JAMES CLERK  =XV= 227
+
+  Mayor of Zalamea, The  XVI 206
+
+  Melancholy, Anatomy of XX
+
+  Melmoth the Wanderer  VI 205
+
+  Memoirs of Alexander Dumas  IX 201
+
+  ---- from Beyond the Grave  IX 134
+
+  ---- of the Count de Grammont  IX 324
+
+  ---- of the Duc De La Rochefoucauld  X 203
+
+  ---- of Edward Gibbon  IX 272
+
+  ---- of Mirabeau  X 111
+
+  ---- of Mme. de Staal  X 238
+
+  Men, Representative  XX 118;
+    see also PLUTARCH, etc.
+
+  MENDOZA, DIEGO DE  =VI= 217
+
+  Merchant of Venice  XVIII 186
+
+  MEREJKOWSKI, DMITRI  =VI= 227
+
+  MÉRIMÉE, PROSPER  =VI= 239
+
+  Messiah, The  XVII 217
+
+  Metamorphoses  XVIII 64
+
+  METCHNIKOFF, ELIE  =XV= 238 _seq._
+
+  Mexico, History of the Conquest of  XII 19
+
+  Middle Ages: History, see Vol XI
+
+  ----, GESTA ROMANORUM: A Story-book of the  XX 140
+
+  Midshipman Easy, Mr.  VI 181
+
+  Midsummer Night's Dream, A  XVIII 196
+
+  MIGNET, FRANÇOIS  =XII= 129
+
+  MILL, JOHN STUART  =XIV= 294;  XX 248
+
+  Mill on the Floss, The  IV 85
+
+  MILLER, HUGH  =XV= 255
+
+  MILMAN, HENRY  =XI= 68;  XII 289
+
+  MILTON, JOHN  =XVII= 319;  XX 257
+
+  MIRABEAU, HONORÉ GABRIEL COMTE DE  =X= 111
+
+  Misanthrope, The  XVIII 1
+
+  Misérables, Les  V 122
+
+  Missionary Travels and Researches  XIX 191
+
+  MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL  =VI= 251
+
+  Modern Régime  XII 177
+
+  MOIR, DAVID  =VI= 262
+
+  MOLIÈRE  =XVII= 362;  XVIII 1 _seq._
+
+  MOMMSEN, THEODOR  =XI= 215
+
+  MONTAIGNE  =XIV= 64
+
+  Monte Cristo, The Count of  III 304
+
+  MONTESQUIEU  =XIV= 306
+
+  MOORE, THOMAS  =X= 122
+
+  Moral Maxims, Reflections and  XX 215
+
+  Morals and Legislation, Principles of  XIV 186
+
+  MORE, SIR THOMAS  =XIV= 315;
+    "Household of"  VI 155
+
+  MORIER, JAMES  =VI= 276
+
+  MORISON, J. A. C.  =X= 135
+
+  MORLEY, JOHN  =X= 144
+
+  Morte D'Arthur  VI 145
+
+  MOTLEY, JOHN LOTHROP  =XII= 220 _seq._
+
+  Mourning Bride, The  XVI 246
+
+  MURRAY, DAVID CHRISTIE  =VI= 288
+
+  My Confession (Tolstoy)  X 301
+
+  Mysteries of Paris, The  VIII 143
+
+
+  Nathan the Wise  XVII 226
+
+  Natural History  XV 12
+
+  Nature  XIII 349
+
+  ---- of Man  XV 238
+
+  ---- of Things, On the  XVII 261
+
+  Nelson, Life of  X 226
+
+  Nest of Nobles, A  VIII 259
+
+  Never Too Late to Mend  VII 79
+
+  New Héloïse, The  VII 176
+
+  ---- Voyage Around the World, A  XIX 112
+
+  ---- Way to Pay Old Debts, A  XVII 305
+
+  Newcomes, The  VIII 169
+
+  NEWMAN, CARDINAL  =XIII= 185
+
+  NEWTON, SIR ISAAC  =XV= 267
+
+  NIBELUNGENLIED  =XVIII= 38;
+    see also WAGNER (Nibelungen Ring)
+
+  Nicholas Nickleby  III 154
+
+  Nightmare Abbey  VII 15
+
+  Nineveh and Its Remains  XIX 171
+
+  No Name  II 249
+
+  Norman Conquest of England. The  XI 298
+
+  NORRIS, FRANK  =VI= 301
+
+  Northanger Abbey  I 138
+
+  Notre Dame de Paris  V 133
+
+
+  Odes of Horace  XVI 102
+
+  ---- of Pindar  XVIII 75
+
+  Odyssey, The  XVII 78
+
+  OHNET, GEORGES  =VI= 314
+
+  Old Curiosity Shop, The  III 179
+
+  ---- Goriot  I 200
+
+  ---- Mortality  VII 306
+
+  ---- Red Sandstone, The  XV 255
+
+  ---- Régime  XII 117
+
+  Oliver Twist  III 166
+
+  On Benefits  XIV 109
+
+  ---- Germany  XX 276
+
+  ---- Heroes and Hero Worship  XX 50
+
+  ---- the Height 193
+
+  ---- the Motion of the Heart and Blood  XV 136
+
+  ---- the Nature of Things  XVII 261
+
+  ---- the Principle of Population  XIV 270
+
+  Origin of Species, The  XV 43
+
+  Orlando Furioso  XVI 51
+
+  Oroonoko: The Royal Slave  I 255
+
+  Ossian  XVII 272
+
+  OTWAY, THOMAS  =XVIII= 48
+
+  OUIDA (LOUISE DE LA RAMÉE)  =VI= 326
+
+  Our Mutual Friend  III 190
+
+  ---- Old Home  IX 336
+
+  ---- Village  VI 251
+
+  Outlines of Astronomy  XV 146
+
+  OVID  =XVIII= 64
+
+  OWEN, SIR RICHARD  =XV= 280
+
+
+  PAINE, THOMAS  =XIII= 196;  XIV 324
+
+  Painting, Treatise on  XX 227
+
+  Pamela  VII 106
+
+  Papacy, History of:  XII 289 _seq._;
+    see also Holy Roman Empire
+
+  Papers of the Forest School-Master  VII 165
+
+  Paradise Lost  XVII 319
+
+  ---- Regained  XVII 342
+
+  Paradiso  XVI 314
+
+  Parallel Lives  XX 266
+
+  PARK, MUNGO  =XIX= 219
+
+  PASCAL, BLAISE  =XIII= 209
+
+  Passing of the Empire, The  XI 30
+
+  Paul and Virginia  VII 192
+
+  PAYN, JAMES  =VI= 336
+
+  PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE  =VII= _seq._
+
+  Peloponnesian War  XI 95
+
+  PENN, WILLIAM  =XIII= 222
+
+  PEPYS, SAMUEL  =X= 154
+
+  Peregrine Pickle  VIII 76
+
+  Persians, The  XVI 28
+
+  Persuasion  I 174
+
+  Peru, History of the Conquest of  XII 30
+
+  Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man  II 212
+
+  ---- Simple  VI 193
+
+  Peveril of the Peak  VII 318
+
+  Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding  XVI 133
+
+  Philippics, The  XX 99
+
+  Philosophy, A History of  XIV 45
+
+  ---- of History, The  XIV 1
+
+  ---- of Religion, The  XIII 138
+
+  Physiognomical Fragments  XV 191
+
+  Pickwick Papers  III 201
+
+  Pilgrim's Progress, The  II 136
+
+  Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah, A  XIX 67
+
+  Pillars of Society, The  XVII 186
+
+  PINDAR  =XVIII= 75
+
+  Pit, The  VI 301
+
+  Pitt, Life of William  X 248
+
+  Plague Year, Journal of the  XX 90
+
+  PLATO  =XIV= 75 _seq._
+
+  PLINY, THE YOUNGER  =X= 166
+
+  PLUTARCH  =XX= 266
+
+  Poems of Catullus  XVI 219
+
+  ---- of Horace  XVII 91
+
+  ---- of Martial  XVII 295
+
+  Poetry and Truth from my Own Life  IX 291
+
+  ----: see also Laocoon, Literature, etc.
+
+  Poets, Lectures on the English  XX 169
+
+  Political Testament of Cardinal Richelieu  X 178
+
+  ---- Economy, Principles of  XIV 294
+
+  POLO, MARCO  =XIX= 229
+
+  POPE, ALEXANDER  =XVIII= 94
+
+  Popes, History of the: See Papacy
+
+  Population, On the Principle of  XIV 270
+
+  PORTER, JANE  =VII= 28
+
+  Positive Philosophy, A Course of  XIV 224
+
+  PRESCOTT, WILLIAM HICKLING  =XII= 19 _seq._;  XII 271
+
+  Pride and Prejudice  I 123
+
+  Prince, The  XIV 261
+
+  Principall Navigations, The  XIV 148
+
+  Principia  XV 267
+
+  Principles of Biology  XIV 133
+
+  ---- of Geology, The  XV 215
+
+  ---- of Human Knowledge  XIII 329
+
+  ---- of Morals and Legislation  XIV 186
+
+  ---- of Political Economy  XIV 294
+
+  ---- of Sociology  XIV 145
+
+  Progress and Poverty  XIV 238
+
+  Prolongation of Life  XV 246
+
+  Prometheus Bound  XVI 38
+
+  Purgatorio  XVI 307
+
+  PUSHKIN, ALEXANDER SERGEYVITCH  =VII= 42
+
+
+  Quentin Durward  VIII 1
+
+  Quest of the Absolute, The  I 227
+
+
+  RABELAIS, FRANÇOIS  =VII= 54
+
+  RACINE, JEAN  =XVIII= 106
+
+  RANKE, LEOPOLD VON  =XII= 301
+
+  Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia  V 199
+
+  Ravenshoe  V 319
+
+  READE, CHARLES  =VII= 68 _seq._
+
+  Reflections and Moral Maxims  XX 215
+
+  ---- on the Revolution in France  XIV 212
+
+  Religio Medici  XIII 66
+
+  RENAN, ERNEST  =XIII= 231
+
+  Renée Mauperin  IV 289
+
+  Representative Men  XX 118
+
+  Republic, Plato's  XIV 84
+
+  Revolt of Islam, The  XVIII 214
+
+  Rheingold  XVIII 305
+
+  RICHARDSON, SAMUEL  =VII= 106 _seq._
+
+  RICHELIEU, CARDINAL  =X= 178
+
+  RICHTER, JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH  =VII= 143 _seq._
+
+  Rights of Man, The  =XIV= 324
+
+  Robinson Crusoe  III 26
+
+  Rob Roy  VIII 13
+
+  Rochefoucauld: See LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+
+  Roderick Random  VIII 64
+
+  Romance of a Poor Young Man  IV 110
+
+  ROMANCE OF THE ROSE  =XVIII= 117
+
+  Romany Rye, The  II 13
+
+  Rome, History of  XI 144 _seq._
+
+  Romeo and Juliet  XVIII 203
+
+  Romola  IV 58
+
+  ROSSEGGER, PETER  =VII= 165
+
+  ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES  =VII= 176;  =X= 190 (Confessions);  XIV 337
+
+  Russia Under Peter the Great  XII 259
+
+  Ruy Blas  XVII 134
+
+
+  SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE  =VII= 192;  XIX 241
+
+  Saints' Everlasting Rest, The  XIII 37
+
+  Salathiel, or Tarry Thou Till I Come  II 324
+
+  SALLUST, CAIUS CRISPUS  =XI= 168
+
+  Samson Agonistes  XVII 349
+
+  Samuel Brohl and Company  II 235
+
+  SAND, GEORGE  =VII= 205 _seq._
+
+  Sandford and Merton  III 14
+
+  Sartor Resartus  XX 61
+
+  Satires of Juvenal  XVII 207
+
+  ---- of Horace  XVI 91
+
+  ----: see also ERASMUS, GOLDSMITH, etc.
+
+  Savonarola, Life of Girolamo  X 312
+
+  Scarlet Letter, The  V 50
+
+  SCHILLER, FRIEDRICH VON  =XVIII= 129;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 111
+
+  SCHLIEMANN, HEINRICH  =XI= 132
+
+  School for Scandal, The  XVIII 226
+
+  ---- for Wives, The  XVIII 14
+
+  SCHOPENHAUER, ARTHUR  =XIV= 99
+
+  SCOTT, MICHAEL  =VII= 229
+
+  SCOTT, SIR WALTER  =VII= 241 _seq._;  VIII 1 _seq._;  XVIII 147 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  =X= 70
+
+  Scottish Chiefs, The  VII 28
+
+  SENECA, L. ANNAEUS  =XIV= 109
+
+  Sense and Sensibility  I 109
+
+  Senses of Insects, The  XV 95
+
+  Sentimental Journey through France and Italy  XIX 263
+
+  SÉVIGNÉ, Mme. DE  =X= 216
+
+  Shadow of the Sword, The  II 111
+
+  SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM  =XVIII= 170 _seq._
+
+  SHELLEY, MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT  =VIII= 41
+
+  SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE  =XVIII= 214
+
+  SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY  =XVIII= 226
+
+  She Stoops to Conquer  XVII 39
+
+  Shirley  II 71
+
+  SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP  =VIII= 54
+
+  Siegfried  XVIII 327
+
+  Silas Marner  IV 73
+
+  Silence of Dean Maitland, The  V 1
+
+  Simple Story, A  V 174
+
+  Sir Charles Grandison  VII 130
+
+  SMITH, ADAM  =XIV= 350
+
+  Smoke  VIII 272
+
+  SMOLLETT, TOBIAS  =VIII= 64 _seq._
+
+  Social Contract, The  XIV 337
+
+  Sociology, Principles of  XIV 145
+
+  Socrates, Apology or Defence of  XIV 75
+
+  Some Fruits of Solitude  XIII 222
+
+  SOPHOCLES  =XVIII= 237
+
+  Sorrows of Young Werther  IV 253
+
+  SOUTHEY, ROBERT  =X= 226
+
+  Spain: (Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella)  XII 271
+
+  Spectator, The  XX 1
+
+  SPEKE, JOHN HANNING  =XIX= 251
+
+  SPENCER, HERBERT  =XIV= 120 _seq._
+
+  SPINOZA, BENEDICT DE  =XIV= 160
+
+  Spirit of Laws, The  XIV 306
+
+  Spy, The  II 297
+
+  STAAL, Mme. DE  =X= 238
+
+  STAËL, Mme. DE  =VIII= 89;  XX 276
+
+  STANHOPE, EARL  =X= 248
+
+  STANLEY, ARTHUR PENRHYN  =X= 260
+
+  STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE)  =VIII= 103
+
+  STERNE, LAURENCE  VIII 117;  =XIX= 263
+
+  STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER  =VIII= 130
+
+  Stafford  XVI 165
+
+  STRICKLAND, AGNES  =X= 270
+
+  Struggle of the Nations, The  XI 20
+
+  SUE, EUGÈNE  =VIII= 143
+
+  Surface of the Globe, The  XV 33
+
+  Sweden (History of Charles XII)  XII 280
+
+  SWEDENBORG, EMANUEL  =XIII= 249
+
+  SWIFT, JONATHAN  =VIII= 157;  X 282
+
+  Sybil, or The Two Nations  III 243
+
+
+  Table Talk by Martin Luther  X 102
+
+  TACITUS, PUBLIUS CORNELIUS  =XI= 156;  XX 286
+
+  TAINE, HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE  =XII= 177;  XX 298
+
+  Tale of Two Cities  III 213
+
+  Tales from Shakespeare  XVIII 170
+
+  Talisman, The  VIII 25
+
+  TALMUD, THE  =XIII= 259
+
+  Tancred  III 256
+
+  Tartarin of Tarascon  III 1
+
+  Tartuffe  XVIII 29
+
+  Task, The  XVI 290
+
+  TASSO, TORQUATO  =XVIII= 250
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD  =XVIII= 261 _seq._
+
+  THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE  =VIII= 169 _seq._
+
+  Theory of the Earth  XV 170
+
+  THOMSON, JAMES  =XVIII= 293
+
+  THOREAU, HENRY DAVID  =XX= 312
+
+  Three Musketeers, The  III 316
+
+  THUCYDIDES  =XI= 95
+
+  Timar's Two Worlds  V 212
+
+  Timbuctoo the Mysterious  XIX 136
+
+  Titan  VII 152
+
+  TOCQUEVILLE, DE  =XII= 117;  XX 324
+
+  Toilers of the Sea, The  V 146
+
+  TOLSTOY, COUNT  =VIII= 205;  =X= 291 _seq._ (Confession, etc.)
+
+  Tom Brown's Schooldays  V 99
+
+  Tom Brown at Oxford  V 110
+
+  ---- Burke of Ours  VI 39
+
+  ---- Cringle's Log  VII 229
+
+  ---- Jones  IV 155
+
+  Tour in Lapland, A  XIX 181
+
+  Tower of London  I 17
+
+  Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The XVII
+
+  Travels on the Amazon  XIX 285
+
+  ---- to Discover the Source of the Nile  XIX 47
+
+  Travels in France  XIX 327
+
+  ---- in the Interior of Africa  XIX 219
+
+  ---- of Marco Polo  XIX 229
+
+  ---- in Nubia  XIX 57
+
+  Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, A  XV 227
+
+  ---- on Painting  XX 227
+
+  Tristram Shandy  VIII 117
+
+  TROLLOPE, ANTHONY  =VIII= 221 _seq._
+
+  Troy and Its Remains  XI 32
+
+  TURGENEV, IVAN  =VIII= 245 _seq._
+
+  Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea  VIII 287
+
+  ---- Years After  III 331
+
+  Two Years Ago  V 270
+
+  ---- before the Mast  II 335
+
+
+  Uncle Silas  VI 1
+
+  ---- Tom's Cabin  VIII 130
+
+  Under Two Flags  VI 326
+
+  Undine  IV 180
+
+  United Netherlands, History of the  XII 234
+
+  ---- States, History of  XII 1;
+    see also America
+
+  Urania  IV 168
+
+  Utopia: Nowhereland  XIV 315
+
+
+  Valkyrie  XVIII 316
+
+  Vanity Fair  VIII 192
+
+  Venice Preserved  XVIII 48
+
+  VERNE, JULES  =VIII= 287
+
+  Vertebrates, Anatomy of  XV 280
+
+  Vestiges of Creation  XV 22
+
+  Vicar of Wakefield, The  IV 175
+
+  View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages  XI 155
+
+  VILLARI, PASQUALE  =X= 312
+
+  Villette  II 83
+
+  VINCI, LEONARDO DA  =XX= 227
+
+  VIRCHOW, RUDOLF  =XV= 292
+
+  Virginians, The  VIII 181
+
+  VOLTAIRE  =XII= 101;  XII 259;  XII 280;  XIX 275
+
+  Von Ranke: see RANKE, VON
+
+  Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle, The  XIX 124
+
+  ---- to the Isle of France  XIX 241
+
+  Voyage to the Moon, A  I 265
+
+  ---- and Travel  XIX 210
+
+  Voyages Round the World  XIX 100
+
+
+  WAGNER, WILHELM RICHARD  =XVIII= 305 _seq._
+
+  Walden  XX 312
+
+  WALLACE, ALFRED RUSSELL  =XIX= 285
+
+  WALPOLE, HORACE  =VIII= 303
+
+  WALTON, ISAAK  =XX= 334
+
+  Wanderings in South America  XIX 313
+
+  War, The Future of  XIV 199
+
+  WARBURTON, ELIOT  =XIX= 299
+
+  Warden, The  VIII 221
+
+  Wars of the Jews  XI 55
+
+  Washington, Life of George  X 51
+
+  Water-Babies  V 282
+
+  Waterloo  IV 97
+
+  WATERTON, CHARLES  =XIX= 313
+
+  Way of the World, The  VI 288
+
+  ---- ---- ---- ----, The  XVI 253
+
+  Wealth of Nations, The  XIV 350
+
+  Werther, Sorrows of Young  IV 253
+
+  WESLEY, JOHN  =X= 327
+
+  Westward Ho!  V 294
+
+  Wild North Land, The  XIX 89
+
+  ---- Wales  XIX 13
+
+  Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship  IV 263
+
+  William Tell  XVIII 129
+
+  Woman in White, The  II 262
+
+  WOOLMAN, JOHN  =X= 341
+
+  World as Will and Idea, The  XIV 99
+
+  Wuthering Heights  II 97
+
+
+  XENOPHON  =XI= 110
+
+
+  YOUNG, ARTHUR  =XIX= 327
+
+
+  Zelter, Goethe's Letters to  IX 283
+
+  ZOLA, ÉMILE  =VIII= 318
+
+  Zoological Philosophy  XV 179
+
+  ZOROASTRIANISM  =XIII= 76
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+The Index in this eBook uses Roman numerals to reference all twenty
+volumes of this series. Most of those volumes are available at no
+charge from Project Gutenberg:
+
+ VOLUME  PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
+     I:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471
+    II:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643
+   III:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748
+    IV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921
+     V:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993
+    VI:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180
+   VII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527
+  VIII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659
+    IX:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059
+     X:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572
+    XI:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745
+   XII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845
+  XIII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620
+   XIV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009
+    XV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509
+   XVI:  not available when this eBook was produced
+  XVII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640
+ XVIII:  not available when this eBook was produced
+   XIX:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998
+    XX:  this volume
+
+Links to those volumes have been included for use on devices that
+support them. The links are to the volumes, not to the specific pages.
+
+Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
+preference was found for the same author in this book; otherwise they
+were not changed.
+
+Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
+quotation marks corrected in simple situations, otherwise unchanged.
+
+Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
+
+Editor's comments at the beginning of each Chapter originally were
+printed at the bottom of the page, but have been repositioned here to
+appear just below the Chapter titles.
+
+This eBook contains references to other volumes in this series, most of
+which are available at no charge from Project Gutenberg:
+
+Page 49: "corollory" was printed that way.
+
+Page 80: "than an hours spent" was printed that way.
+
+Page 148: "perserver" may be a misprint for "preserver".
+
+Page 163: "Circeronianus" was printed that way.
+
+Page 346: "I enjoyed it an turned" probably is a misprint for "and".
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX
+-- Miscellaneous Literature and Inde, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+***** This file should be named 44704-0.txt or 44704-0.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/7/0/44704/
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/44704-0.zip b/old/44704-0.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd9cf3a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-0.zip
diff --git a/old/44704-8.txt b/old/44704-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..36d1055
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14462 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX --
+Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX -- Miscellaneous Literature and Index
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Arthur Mee
+        J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 18, 2014 [EBook #44704]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: Italics are indicated by _underscores_ and boldface
+by =equals signs=. A complete Index of all 20 volumes of THE WORLD'S
+GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of this volume.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (signed) Matthew Arnold]
+
+
+
+
+    THE WORLD'S
+    GREATEST
+    BOOKS
+
+
+    JOINT EDITORS
+
+    ARTHUR MEE
+    Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
+
+    J. A. HAMMERTON
+    Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
+
+
+    VOL. XX
+
+    MISCELLANEOUS
+    LITERATURE
+
+    INDEX
+
+
+    WM. H. WISE & CO.
+
+
+
+
+_Table of Contents_
+
+
+  PORTRAIT OF MATTHEW ARNOLD                    _Frontispiece_
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH                                         PAGE
+      Spectator                                              1
+
+  �SOP
+      Fables                                                10
+
+  ARNOLD, MATTHEW
+      Essays in Criticism                                   18
+
+  BRANDES, GEORGE
+      Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature        31
+
+  BURTON, ROBERT
+      Anatomy of Melancholy                                 41
+
+  CARLYLE, THOMAS
+      On Heroes and Hero Worship                            50
+      Sartor Resartus                                       61
+
+  CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS
+      Concerning Friendship                                 70
+
+  COBBETT, WILLIAM
+      Advice to Young Men                                   78
+
+  DEFOE, DANIEL
+      Journal of the Plague Year                            90
+
+  DESMOSTHENES
+      Philippics                                            99
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO
+      English Traits                                       109
+      Representative Men                                   118
+
+  ERASMUS
+      Familiar Colloquies                                  126
+      In Praise of Folly                                   132
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM                                          140
+
+  GOLDSMITH, OLIVER
+      Citizen of the World                                 149
+
+  HALLAM, HENRY
+      Introduction to the Literature of Europe             158
+
+  HAZLITT, WILLIAM
+      Lectures on the English Poets                        169
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL
+      Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table                      181
+
+  LA BRUY�RE
+      Characters                                           193
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE
+      Imaginary Conversations                              203
+
+  LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+      Reflections and Moral Maxims                         215
+
+  LEONARDO DA VINCI
+      Treatise on Painting                                 227
+
+  LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM
+      Laocoon                                              239
+
+  MILL, JOHN STUART
+      Essay on Liberty                                     248
+
+  MILTON, JOHN
+      Areopagitica                                         257
+
+  PLUTARCH
+      Parallel Lives                                       266
+
+  STA�L, MME. DE
+      On Germany                                           276
+
+  TACITUS
+      Germania                                             286
+
+  TAINE
+      History of English Literature                        298
+
+  THOREAU, HENRY DAVID
+      Walden                                               312
+
+  TOCQUEVILLE, DE
+      Democracy in America                                 324
+
+  WALTON, IZAAK
+      Complete Angler                                      334
+
+  INDEX                                                    349
+
+
+
+
+Miscellaneous
+
+
+
+
+JOSEPH ADDISON
+
+The Spectator
+
+  "The Spectator," the most popular and elegant miscellany of
+  English literature, appeared on the 1st of March, 1711. With an
+  interruption of two years--1712 to 1714--during part of which
+  time "The Guardian," a similar periodical, took its place, "The
+  Spectator" was continued to the 20th of December, 1714. Addison's
+  fame is inseparably associated with this periodical. He was the
+  animating spirit of the magazine, and by far the most exquisite
+  essays which appear in it are by him. Richard Steele, Addison's
+  friend and coadjutor in "The Spectator," was born in Dublin
+  in March, 1672, and died at Carmarthen on September 1, 1729.
+  (Addison biography, see Vol. XVI, p. 1.)
+
+
+_The Essays and the Essayist_
+
+Addison's "Spectator" is one of the most interesting books in the
+English language. When Dr. Johnson praised Addison's prose, it was
+specially of "The Spectator" that he was speaking. "His page," he
+says, "is always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendour.
+His sentences have neither studied amplitude nor affected brevity; his
+periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever
+wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant
+but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to Addison."
+
+Johnson's verdict has been upheld, for it is chiefly by "The Spectator"
+that Addison lives. None but scholars know his Latin verse and
+his voluminous translations now. His "Cato" survives only in some
+half-dozen occasional quotations. Two or three hymns of his, including
+"The spacious firmament on high," and "When all Thy mercies, O my God,"
+find a place in church collections; and his simile of the angel who
+rides upon the whirlwind and directs the storm is used now and again
+by pressmen and public speakers. But, in the main, when we think of
+Addison, it is of "The Spectator" that we think.
+
+Recall the time when it was founded. It was in the days of Queen Anne,
+the Augustan age of the essay. There were no newspapers then, no
+magazines or reviews, no Parliamentary reports, nothing corresponding
+to the so-called "light literature" of later days. The only centres of
+society that existed were the court, with the aristocracy that revolved
+about it, and the clubs and coffee-houses, in which the commercial
+and professional classes met to discuss matters of general interest,
+to crack their jokes, and to exchange small talk about this, that and
+the other person, man or woman, who might happen to figure, publicly
+or privately, at the time. "The Spectator" was one of the first organs
+to give form and consistency to the opinion, the humour and the gossip
+engendered by this social contact.
+
+One of the first, but not quite the first; for the less famous, though
+still remembered, "Tatler" preceded it. And these two, "The Tatler" and
+"The Spectator," have an intimate connection from the circumstance that
+Richard Steele, who started "The Tatler" in April, 1709, got Addison to
+write for it, and then joined with Addison in "The Spectator" when his
+own paper stopped in January, 1711. Addison and Steele had been friends
+since boyhood. They were contemporaries at the Charterhouse, and Steele
+often spent his holidays in the parsonage of Addison's father.
+
+The two friends were a little under forty years of age when "The
+Spectator" began in March, 1711. It was a penny paper, and was
+published daily, its predecessor having been published three times a
+week. It began with a circulation of 3,000 copies, and ran up to about
+10,000 before it stopped its daily issue in December, 1712. Macaulay,
+writing in 1843, insists upon the sale as "indicating a popularity
+quite as great as that of the most successful works of Scott and
+Dickens in our time." The 555 numbers of the daily issue formed seven
+volumes; and then there was a final eighth volume, made up of triweekly
+issues: a total of 635 numbers, of which Addison wrote 274, and Steele
+236.
+
+To summarise the contents of these 635 numbers would require a volume.
+They are so versatile and so varied. As one of Addison's biographers
+puts it, to-day you have a beautiful meditation, brilliant in imagery
+and serious as a sermon, or a pious discourse on death, or perhaps
+an eloquent and scathing protest against the duel; while to-morrow
+the whole number is perhaps concerned with the wigs, ruffles, and
+shoe-buckles of the _macaroni_, or the hoops, patches, farthingales
+and tuckers of the ladies. If you wish to see the plays and actors of
+the time, "The Spectator" will always show them to you; and, moreover,
+point out the dress, manners, and mannerisms, affectations, indecorums,
+plaudits, or otherwise of the frequenters of the theatre.
+
+For here is no newspaper, as we understand the term. "The Spectator"
+from the first indulged his humours at the expense of the quidnuncs.
+Says he:
+
+"There is another set of men that I must likewise lay a claim to
+as being altogether unfurnished with ideas till the business and
+conversation of the day has supplied them. I have often considered
+these poor souls with an eye of great commiseration when I have heard
+them asking the first man they have met with whether there was any news
+stirring, and by that means gathering together materials for thinking.
+These needy persons do not know what to talk of till about twelve
+o'clock in the morning; for by that time they are pretty good judges
+of the weather, know which way the wind sets, and whether the Dutch
+mail be come in. As they lie at the mercy of the first man they meet,
+and are grave or impertinent all the day long, according to the notions
+which they have imbibed in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them
+not to stir out of their chambers till they have read this paper; and
+do promise them that I will daily instil into them such sound and
+wholesome sentiments as shall have a good effect on their conversation
+for the ensuing twelve hours."
+
+Now, the essential, or at least the leading feature of "The Spectator"
+is this: that the entertainment is provided by an imaginary set of
+characters forming a Spectator Club. The club represents various
+classes or sections of the community, so that through its members a
+corresponding variety of interests and opinions is set before the
+reader, the Spectator himself acting as a sort of final censor or
+referee. Chief among the Club members is Sir Roger de Coverley, a
+simple, kindly, honourable, old-world country gentleman. Here is the
+description of this celebrated character:
+
+"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of
+ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His
+great-grandfather was inventor of that famous country dance which is
+called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted
+with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very
+singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good
+sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world only as he
+thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humour creates him
+no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his
+being unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the readier and more
+capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he
+lives in Soho Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor by reason
+he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county
+to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a
+fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George
+Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully
+Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being
+ill-used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year
+and a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last
+got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards.
+He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in
+fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he
+tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. It
+is said Sir Roger grew humble in his desires after he had forgot this
+cruel beauty, insomuch that it is reported he was frequently offended
+with beggars and gipsies; but this is looked upon by his friends rather
+as matter of raillery than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year,
+cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country;
+a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthful cast in his
+behaviour that he is rather beloved than esteemed."
+
+Then there is Sir Andrew Freeport, "a merchant of great eminence in the
+City of London; a person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and
+great experience." He is "acquainted with commerce in all its parts;
+and will tell you it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion
+by arms; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will
+often argue that, if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we
+should gain from one nation; and if another, from another."
+
+There is Captain Sentry, too, "a gentleman of great courage and
+understanding, but invincible modesty," who in the club speaks for the
+army, as the templar does for taste and learning, and the clergyman for
+theology and philosophy.
+
+And then, that the club may not seem to be unacquainted with "the
+gallantries and pleasures of the age," there is Will Honeycomb, the
+elderly man of fashion, who is "very ready at that sort of discourse
+with which men usually entertain women." Will "knows the history of
+every mode, and can inform you from which of the French king's wenches
+our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that
+way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort
+of petticoat; and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the
+dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and
+knowledge have been in the female world. As other men of his age will
+take notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an
+occasion, he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court,
+such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head
+of his troop in the park. This way of talking of his very much enlivens
+the conversation among us of a more sedate turn; and I find there is
+not one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks
+of him as that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred fine
+gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concerned, he
+is an honest, worthy man."
+
+Nor must we forget Will Wimble, though he is really an outsider. Will
+is the younger son of a baronet: a man of no profession, looking after
+his father's game, training his dogs, shooting, fishing, hunting,
+making whiplashes for his neighbors, knitting garters for the ladies,
+and afterwards slyly inquiring how they wear: a welcome guest at every
+house in the county; beloved by all the lads and the children.
+
+Besides these, and others, there is a fine little gallery of portraits
+in Sir Roger's country neighbours and tenants. We have, for instance,
+the yeoman who "knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a
+week, and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not
+so good an estate as himself"; and we have Moll White, the reputed
+witch, who, if she made a mistake at church and cried "Amen!" in a
+wrong place, "they never failed to conclude that she was saying her
+prayers backwards." We have the diverting captain, "young, sound,
+and impudent"; we have a demure Quaker; we have Tom Touchy, a fellow
+famous for "taking the law" of everybody; and we have the inn-keeper,
+who, out of compliment to Sir Roger, "put him up in a sign-post before
+the door," and then, when Sir Roger objected, changed the figure into
+the Saracen's Head by "a little aggravation of the features" and the
+addition of a pair of whiskers!
+
+Best of all is the old chaplain. Sir Roger was "afraid of being
+insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table"; so he got a university
+friend to "find him out a clergyman, rather of plain sense than much
+learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if
+possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon." The genial
+knight "made him a present of all the good sermons printed in English,
+and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of
+them in the pulpit." Thus, if Sir Roger happened to meet his chaplain
+on a Saturday evening, and asked who was to preach to-morrow, he would
+perhaps be answered: "The Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and
+Dr. South in the afternoon." About which arrangement "The Spectator"
+boldly observes: "I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy
+would follow this example; and, instead of wasting their spirits in
+laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome
+elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce what
+has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to
+themselves, but more edifying to the people."
+
+There is no end to the subjects discussed by "The Spectator." They
+range from dreams to dress and duelling; from ghosts to gardening and
+goats' milk; from wigs to wine and widows; from religion to riches
+and riding; from servants to sign-posts and snuff-boxes; from love
+to lodgings and lying; from beards to bankruptcy and blank verse; and
+hundreds of other interesting themes. Correspondents often wrote to
+emphasise this variety, for letters from the outside public were always
+welcome. Thus one "Thomas Trusty":
+
+"The variety of your subjects surprises me as much as a box of
+pictures did formerly, in which there was only one face, that by
+pulling some pieces of isinglass over it was changed into a senator or
+a merry-andrew, a polished lady or a nun, a beau or a blackamoor, a
+prude or a coquette, a country squire or a conjurer, with many other
+different representations very entertaining, though still the same at
+the bottom."
+
+But perhaps, on the whole, woman and her little ways have the
+predominant attention. Indeed, Addison expressly avowed this object of
+engaging the special interests of the sex when he started. He says:
+
+"There are none to whom this paper will be more useful than to the
+female world. I have often thought that there has not been sufficient
+pains taken in finding out proper employments and diversions for the
+fair ones. Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as they
+are women than as they are reasonable creatures; and are more adapted
+to the sex than to the species. The toilet is their great scene
+of business, and the right adjustment of their hair the principal
+employment of their lives. The sorting of a suit of ribands is reckoned
+a very good morning's work; and if they make an excursion to a mercer's
+or a toy-shop, so great a fatigue makes them unfit for anything else
+all the day after. Their more serious occupations are sewing and
+embroidery, and their greatest drudgery the preparations of jellies and
+sweetmeats. This, I say, is the state of ordinary women; though I know
+there are multitudes of those of a more elevated life and conversation,
+that move in an exalted sphere of knowledge and virtue, that join all
+the beauties of the mind to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind
+of awe and respect, as well as of love, into their male beholders.
+I hope to increase the number of these by publishing this daily
+paper, which I shall always endeavour to make an innocent, if not an
+improving, entertainment, and by that means, at least, divert the minds
+of my female readers from greater trifles."
+
+These reflections on the manners of women did not quite please Swift,
+who wrote to Stella: "I will not meddle with 'The Spectator'; let him
+_fair sex_ it to the world's end." But they pleased most other people,
+as the main contents of "The Spectator" still please. Here is one
+typical acknowledgment, signed "Leonora":
+
+  Mr. Spectator,--Your paper is part of my tea-equipage; and my
+  servant knows my humour so well that, calling for my breakfast
+  this morning (it being past my usual hour), she answered, "'the
+  Spectator' was not yet come in, but the tea-kettle boiled, and
+  she expected it every moment."
+
+As an "abstract and brief chronicle of the time," this monumental work
+of Addison and Steele is without peer. In its pages may be traced the
+foundations of all that is noble and healthy in modern English thought;
+and its charming sketches may be made the open sesame to a period and a
+literature as rich as any our country has seen.
+
+
+
+
+�SOP
+
+Fables
+
+  It is in the fitness of things that the early biographies of
+  �sop, the great fabulist, should be entirely fabulous. Macrobius
+  has distinguished between _fabula_ and _fabulosa narratio_:
+  "He would have a fable to be absolutely false, and a fabulous
+  narration to be a number of fictions built upon a foundation of
+  truth." The Lives of �sop belong chiefly to the latter category.
+  In the following pages what is known of the life of �sop is set
+  forth, together with condensed versions of some of his most
+  characteristic fables, which have long passed into the wisdom of
+  all nations, this being a subject that calls for treatment on
+  somewhat different lines from the majority of the works dealt
+  with in THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS.
+
+
+_Introductory_
+
+Pierre Bayle, in his judicious fashion, sums up what is said of �sop in
+antiquity, resting chiefly upon Plutarch. "Plutarch affirms: (1) That
+Croesus sent �sop to Periander, the Tyrant of Corinth, and to the Oracle
+of Delphi; (2) that Socrates found no other expedient to obey the God
+of Dreams, without injuring his profession, than to turn the Fables of
+�sop into verse; (3) that �sop and Solon were together at the Court of
+Croesus, King of Lydia; (4) that those of Delphi, having put �sop to
+death cruelly and unjustly, and finding themselves exposed to several
+calamities on account of this injustice, made a public declaration that
+they were ready to make satisfaction to the memory of �sop; (5) that
+having treated thereupon with a native of Samos, they were delivered
+from the evil that afflicted them."
+
+To this summary Bayle added a footnote concerning "The Life of
+�sop, composed by Meziriac": "It is a little book printed at
+Bourg-en-Bress, in 1632. It contains only forty pages in 16. It is
+becoming exceedingly scarce.... This is what I extract from it. It
+is more probable that �sop was born at Cotioeum, a town of Phrygia,
+than that he was born at Sardis, or in the island of Samos, or at
+Mesembria in Thrace. The first master that he served was one Zemarchus,
+or Demarchus, surnamed Carasius, a native and inhabitant of Athens.
+Thus it is probable that it was there he learned the purity of the
+Greek tongue, as in its spring, and acquired the knowledge of moral
+philosophy which was then in esteem....
+
+"In process of time he was sold to Xanthus, a native of the Isle of
+Samos, and afterwards to Idmon, or Iadmnon, the philosopher, who was
+a Samian also, and who enfranchised him. After he had recovered his
+liberty, he soon acquired a great reputation among the Greeks; so that
+the report of his singular wisdom having reached the ears of Croesus,
+he sent to inquire after him; and having conceived an affection for
+him, he obliged him by his favours to engage himself in his service to
+the end of his life. He travelled through Greece--whether for his own
+pleasure or for the private affairs of Croesus is uncertain--and passing
+by Athens, soon after Pisistratus had usurped the sovereign power there
+and had abolished the popular state, and seeing that the Athenians
+bore the yoke very impatiently, he told them the Fable of the Frogs
+that asked a King of Jupiter. Afterwards he met the Seven Wise Men in
+the City of Corinth at the Tyrant Periander's. Some relate that, in
+order to show that the life of man is full of miseries, and that one
+pleasure is attended with a thousand pains, �sop used to say that when
+Prometheus took the clay to form man, he did not temper it with water,
+but with tears."
+
+Concerning the death of this extraordinary man we read that �sop went
+to Delphi, with a great quantity of gold and silver, being ordered by
+Croesus to offer a great sacrifice to Apollo, and to give a considerable
+sum to each inhabitant. The quarrel which arose between the Delphians
+and him was the occasion, after his sending away the sacrifice, of his
+sending back the money to Croesus; for he thought that those for whom
+this prince designed it had rendered themselves unworthy of it. The
+inhabitants of Delphi contrived an accusation of sacrilege against him,
+and, pretending that they had convicted him, cast him down from the top
+of a rock.
+
+Bayle has a long line of centuries at his back when he says: "�sop's
+lectures against the faults of men were the fullest of good sense and
+wit that can be imagined." He substantiates this affirmation in the
+following manner: "Can any inventions be more happy than the images
+�sop made use of to instruct mankind? They are exceedingly fit for
+children, and no less proper for grown persons; they are all that is
+necessary to perfect a precept --I mean the mixture of the useful with
+the agreeable." He then quotes Aulus Gellius as saying: "�sop the
+Phrygian fabulist was not without reason esteemed to be wise, since he
+did not, after the manner of the philosophers, severely and imperiously
+command such things as were fit to be advised and persuaded, but by
+feigning, diverting and entertaining apologues, he insinuates good
+and wholesome advice into the minds of men with a kind of willing
+attention."
+
+Bayle continues: "At all times these have been made to succeed the
+homespun stories of nurses. 'Let them learn to tell the Fables of
+�scop, which succeed the stories of the nursery, in pure and easy
+style, and afterwards endeavour to write in the same familiar manner.'
+They have never fallen into contempt. Our age, notwithstanding its
+pride and delicacy, esteems and admires them, and shows them in a
+hundred different shapes. The inimitable La Fontaine has procured them
+in our time a great deal of honour and glory; and great commendations
+are given to the reflections of an English wit, Sir Roger L'Estrange,
+on these very fables."
+
+Since the period when Pierre Bayle composed his great biographical
+dictionary, the Fables of �sop have perhaps suffered something of a
+relapse in the favour of grown persons; but if one may judge from the
+number of new editions illustrated for children, they are still the
+delight of modern nurseries. There is this, however, to be said of
+contemporary times--that the multitude of books in a nursery prevent
+children from acquiring the profound and affectionate acquaintance with
+�sop which every child would naturally get when his fables were almost
+the only book provided by the Press for juvenile readers.
+
+It is questionable whether the fables will any longer produce the
+really deep effect which they certainly have had in the past. But we
+may be certain that some of them will always play a great part in the
+wisdom of the common people, and that these particularly true and
+striking apologues are secure of an eternal place in the literature
+of nations. As an example of what we mean, we will tell as simply as
+possible some of the most characteristic fables.
+
+
+_The Dog and the Shadow_
+
+A Dog, with a piece of stolen meat between his teeth, was one day
+crossing a river by means of a plank, when he caught sight of another
+dog in the water carrying a far larger piece of meat. He opened his
+jaws to snap at the greater morsel, when the meat dropped in the stream
+and was lost even in the reflection.
+
+
+_The Dying Lion_
+
+A Lion, brought to the extremity of weakness by old age and disease,
+lay dying in the sunlight. Those whom he had oppressed in his strength
+now came round about him to revenge themselves for past injuries. The
+Boar ripped the flank of the King of Beasts with his tusks. The Bull
+came and gored the Lion's sides with his horns. Finally, the Ass drew
+near, and after carefully seeing that there was no danger, let fly with
+his heels in the Lion's face. Then, with a dying groan, the mighty
+creature exclaimed: "How much worse it is than a thousand deaths to be
+spurned by so base a creature!"
+
+
+_The Mountain in Labour_
+
+A Mountain was heard to produce dreadful sounds, as though it were
+labouring to bring forth something enormous. The people came and stood
+about waiting to see what wonderful thing would be produced from this
+labour. After they had waited till they were tired, out crept a Mouse.
+
+
+_Hercules and the Waggoner_
+
+A Waggoner was driving his team through a muddy lane when the wheels
+stuck fast in the clay, and the Horses could get no farther. The Man
+immediately dropped on his knees, and, crying bitterly, besought
+Hercules to come and help him. "Get up and stir thyself, thou lazy
+fellow!" replied Hercules. "Whip thy Horses, and put thy shoulder to
+the wheel. If thou art in need of my help, when thou thyself hast
+laboured, then shalt thou have it."
+
+
+_The Frogs that Asked for a King_
+
+The Frogs, who lived an easy, happy life in the ponds, once prayed to
+Jupiter that he should give them a King. Jupiter was amused by this
+prayer, and cast a log into the water, saying: "There, then, is a King
+for you." The Frogs, frightened by the great splash, regarded their
+King with alarm, until at last, seeing that he did not stir, some of
+them jumped upon his back and began to be merry there, amused at such
+a foolish King. However, King Log did not satisfy their ideas for very
+long, and so once again they petitioned Jupiter to send them a King, a
+real King who would rule over them, and not lie helpless in the water.
+Then Jupiter sent the Frogs a Stork, who caught them by their legs,
+tossed them in the air, and gobbled them up whenever he was hungry.
+All in a hurry the Frogs besought Jupiter to take away King Stork
+and restore them to their former happy condition. "No, no," answered
+Jupiter; "a King that did you no hurt did not please you; make the best
+of him you now have, lest a worse come in his place!"
+
+
+_The Gnat and the Lion_
+
+A lively and insolent Gnat was bold enough to attack a Lion, which he
+so maddened by stinging the most sensitive parts of his nose, eyes
+and ears that the beast roared with anguish and tore himself with
+his claws. In vain were the Lion's efforts to rid himself of his
+insignificant tormentor; again and again the insect returned and stung
+the furious King of Beasts, till at last the Lion fell exhausted on the
+ground. The triumphant Gnat, sounding his tiny trumpet, hovered over
+the spot exulting in his victory. But it happened that in his circling
+flight he got himself caught in the web of a Spider, which, fine and
+delicate as it was, yet had power enough to hold the tiny insect a
+prisoner. All the Gnat's efforts to escape only held him the more
+tightly and firmly a prisoner, and he who had conquered the Lion became
+in his turn the prey of the Spider.
+
+
+_The Wolf and the Stork_
+
+A Wolf ate his food so greedily that a bone stuck in his throat. This
+caused him such great pain that he ran hither and thither, promising
+to reward handsomely anyone who would remove the cause of his torture.
+A Stork, moved with pity by the Wolf's cry of pain, and tempted also
+by the reward, undertook the dangerous operation. When he had removed
+the bone, the Wolf moved away, but the Stork called out and reminded
+him of the promised reward. "Reward!" exclaimed the Wolf. "Pray, you
+greedy fellow, what reward can you expect? You dared to put your head
+in my mouth, and instead of biting it off, I let you take it out again
+unharmed. Get away with you! And do not again place yourself in my
+power."
+
+
+_The Frog who Wanted to Be as Big as an Ox_
+
+A vain Frog, surrounded by her children, looked up and saw an Ox
+grazing near by. "I can be as big as the Ox," she said, and began to
+blow herself out. "Am I as big now?" she inquired. "Oh, no; not nearly
+so big!" said the little frogs. "Now?" she asked, blowing herself out
+still more. "No, not nearly so big!" answered her children. "But now?"
+she inquired eagerly, and blew herself out still more. "No, not even
+now," they said; "and if you try till you burst yourself you will never
+be so big." But the Frog would not listen, and attempting to make
+herself bigger still, burst her skin and died.
+
+
+_The Dog in the Manger_
+
+A Dog lay in a manger which was full of hay. An Ox, being hungry, came
+near, and was about to eat when the Dog started up, and, with angry
+snarls, would not let the Ox approach. "Surly brute," said the Ox; "you
+cannot eat the hay yourself, and you will let no one else have any."
+
+
+_The Bundle of Faggots_
+
+An honest Man had the unhappiness to have a quarrelsome family of
+children. One day he called them before him, and bade them try to break
+a bundle of faggots. All tried, and all failed. "Now," said he, "unbind
+the bundle and take every stick by itself, and see if you cannot break
+them." They did his bidding, and snapped all the sticks one by one with
+the greatest possible ease. "This, my children," said the Father at
+last, "is a true emblem of your condition. Keep together and you are
+safe, divide and you are undone."
+
+
+_The Fox Without a Tail_
+
+A Fox was once caught in a trap by his tail, and in order to get free
+was obliged to leave it behind. He knew that his fellows would make fun
+of his tailless condition, so he made up his mind to induce them all to
+part with their tails. At the next assemblage of Foxes he made a speech
+on the uselessness of tails in general, and the inconvenience of a
+Fox's tail in particular, declaring that never in his whole life had he
+felt so comfortable as now in his tailless freedom. When he sat down,
+a sly old Fox rose, and, waving his brush, said, with a sneer, that
+if he had lost his tail, he would be convinced by the last speaker's
+arguments, but until such an accident occurred he fully intended to
+vote in favour of tails.
+
+
+_The Blind Man and the Paralytic_
+
+A blind man finding himself stopped in a rough and difficult road,
+met with a paralytic and begged his assistance. "How can I help you,"
+replied the paralytic, "when I can scarcely move myself along?" But,
+regarding the blind man, he added: "However, you appear to have good
+legs and a broad back, and, if you will lift me and carry me, I will
+guide you safely through this difficulty, which is more than each one
+can surmount for himself. You shall walk for me, and I will see for
+you." "With all my heart," rejoined the blind man; and, taking the
+paralytic on his shoulders, the two went cheerfully forward in a wise
+partnership which triumphed over all difficulties.
+
+
+
+
+MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+Essays in Criticism
+
+  Matthew Arnold, son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby (see Vol. X, p. 260),
+  was born on December 24, 1822, and died on April 15, 1888. He was
+  by everyday calling an inspector of schools and an educational
+  expert, but by nature and grace a poet, a philosopher, a man of
+  piety and of letters. Arnold almost ceased to write verse when
+  he was forty-five, though not without having already produced
+  some of the choicest poetry in the English language. Before
+  that he had developed his theories of literary criticism in his
+  "Essays in Criticism"; and about the time of his withdrawal
+  from Oxford he published "Culture and Anarchy," in which his
+  system of philosophy is broadly outlined. Later, in "St. Paul
+  and Protestantism," "Literature and Dogma" and "God and the
+  Bible," he tried to adjust Christianity according to the light of
+  modern knowledge. In his "Lectures on Translating Homer," he had
+  expressed views on criticism and its importance that were new to,
+  and so were somewhat adversely discussed by the Press. Whereupon,
+  in 1865, with a militant joy, he re-entered the fray and defined
+  the province of criticism in the first of a series of "Essays in
+  Criticism," showing the narrowness of the British conception.
+  "The Literary Influence of Academies" was a subject that enabled
+  him to make a further comparison between the literary genius of
+  the French and of the English people, and a number of individual
+  critiques that followed only enhanced his great and now
+  undisputed position both as a poet and as a critic. The argument
+  of the two general essays is given here.
+
+
+_I.--Creative Power and Critical Power_
+
+Many objections have been made to a proposition of mine about
+criticism: "Of the literature of France and Germany, as of the
+intellect of Europe in general, the main effort, for now many years,
+has been a critical effort--the endeavour, in all branches of
+knowledge, to see the object as in itself it really is." I added that
+"almost the last thing for which one would come to English literature
+was just that very thing which now Europe most desired--criticism,"
+and that the power and value of English literature were thereby
+impaired. More than one rejoinder declared that the importance here
+again assigned to criticism was excessive, and asserted the inherent
+superiority of the creative effort of the human spirit over its
+critical effort. A reporter of Wordsworth's conversation quotes a
+judgment to the same effect: "Wordsworth holds the critical power very
+low; indeed, infinitely lower than the inventive."
+
+The critical power is of lower rank than the inventive--true; but, in
+assenting to this proposition, we must keep in mind that men may have
+the sense of exercising a free creative activity in other ways than
+in producing great works of literature or art; and that the exercise
+of the creative power in the production of great works of literature
+or art is not at all epochs and under all conditions possible. This
+creative power works with elements, with materials--what if it has not
+those materials ready for its use? Now, in literature, the elements
+with which creative power works are ideas--the best ideas on every
+matter which literature touches, current at the time. The grand work of
+literary genius is a work of synthesis and exposition; its gift lies
+in the faculty of being happily inspired by a certain intellectual and
+spiritual atmosphere, by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself
+in them; of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in most
+effective and attractive combinations, making beautiful works with
+them, in short. But it must have the atmosphere, it must find itself
+amidst the order of the ideas, in order to work freely; and these it
+is not so easy to command. This is really why great creative epochs in
+literature are so rare--because, for the creation of a master-work of
+literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power
+of the moment; and the man is not enough without the moment.
+
+The creative power has for its happy exercise appointed elements, and
+those elements are not in its control. Nay, they are more within the
+control of the critical power. It is the business of the critical
+power in all branches of knowledge to see the object as in itself it
+really is. Thus it tends at last to make an intellectual situation of
+which the creative power can avail itself. It tends to establish an
+order of ideas, if not absolutely true, yet true by comparison with
+that which it displaces--to make the best ideas prevail. Presently
+these new ideas reach society; the touch of truth is the touch of life;
+and there is a stir and growth everywhere. Out of this stir and growth
+come the creative epochs of literature.
+
+
+_II.--The Literary "Atmosphere"_
+
+It has long seemed to me that the burst of creative activity in our
+literature through the first quarter of the nineteenth century had
+about it something premature, and for this cause its productions are
+doomed to prove hardly more lasting than the productions of far less
+splendid epochs. And this prematureness comes from its having proceeded
+without having its proper data, without sufficient materials to work
+with. In other words, the English poetry of the first quarter of the
+nineteenth century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force,
+did not know enough. This makes Byron so empty of matter, Shelley so
+incoherent, Wordsworth, profound as he is, so wanting in completeness
+and variety.
+
+It was not really books and reading that lacked to our poetry at this
+epoch. Shelley had plenty of reading, Coleridge had immense reading;
+Pindar and Sophocles had not many books; Shakespeare was no deep
+reader. True; but in the Greece of Pindar and Sophocles and the England
+of Shakespeare the poet lived in a current of ideas in the highest
+degree animating and nourishing to creative power.
+
+Such an atmosphere the many-sided learning and the long and widely
+combined critical effort of Germany formed for Goethe when he lived
+and worked. In the England of the first quarter of the nineteenth
+century there was neither a national glow of life and thought, such
+as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet a force of learning and
+criticism, such as was to be found in Germany. The creative power
+of poetry wanted, for success in the highest sense, materials and a
+basis--a thorough interpretation of the world was necessarily denied to
+it.
+
+At first it seems strange that out of the immense stir of the French
+Revolution and its age should not have come a crop of works of genius
+equal to that which came out of the stir of the great productive time
+of Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its powerful episode
+of the Reformation. But the truth is that the stir of the French
+Revolution took a character which essentially distinguished it from
+such movements as these. The French Revolution found, undoubtedly, its
+motive power in the intelligence of men, and not in their practical
+sense. It appeals to an order of ideas which are universal, certain,
+permanent. The year 1789 asked of a thing: Is it rational? That a
+whole nation should have been penetrated with an enthusiasm for pure
+reason is a very remarkable thing when we consider how little of mind,
+or anything so worthy or quickening as mind, comes into the motives
+which in general impel great masses of men. In spite of the crimes and
+follies in which it lost itself, the French Revolution derives, from
+the force, truth and universality of the ideas which it took for its
+law, a unique and still living power; and it is, and will probably long
+remain, the greatest, the most animating event in history.
+
+But the mania for giving an immediate political and practical
+application to all these fine ideas of the reason was fatal. Here
+an Englishman is in his element: on this theme we can all go on for
+hours. Ideas cannot be too much prized in and for themselves, cannot
+be too much lived with; but to transport them abruptly into the world
+of politics and practice, violently to revolutionise this world to
+their bidding--that is quite another thing. "Force and right are the
+governors of the world; force till right is ready" Joubert has said.
+The grand error of the French Revolution was that it set at naught
+the second great half of that maxim--force till right is ready--and,
+rushing furiously into the political sphere, created in opposition to
+itself what I may call an epoch of concentration.
+
+The great force of that epoch of concentration was England, and the
+great voice of that epoch of concentration was Burke. I will not
+deny that his writings are often disfigured by the violence and
+passion of the moment, and that in some directions Burke's view was
+bounded and his observations therefore at fault; but for those who
+can make the needful corrections what distinguishes these writings
+is their profound, permanent, fruitful, philosophical truth--they
+contain the true philosophy of an epoch of concentration. Now, an
+epoch of expansion seems to be opening in this country. In spite of
+the absorbing and brutalising influence of our passionate material
+progress, this progress is likely to lead in the end to an apparition
+of intellectual life. It is of the last importance that English
+criticism should discern what rule it ought to take, to avail itself
+of the field now opening to it. That rule may be summed up in one
+word--disinterestedness.
+
+
+_III.--The Virtue of Detachment_
+
+How is criticism to show disinterestedness? By keeping aloof from
+practice; by resolutely following the law of its own nature, which is
+to be a free play of the mind on all subjects which it touches. Its
+business is simply to know the best that is known and thought in the
+world, and by making this known to create a current of fresh and true
+ideas. What is at present the bane of criticism in this country? It
+is that our organs of criticism are organs of men and parties having
+practical ends to serve, and with them those practical ends are the
+first thing, and the play of the mind the second--so much play of mind
+as is compatible with the prosecution of these practical ends is all
+that is wanted.
+
+An organ like the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, existing as just an organ
+for a free play of mind, we have not; but we have the "Edinburgh
+Review," existing as an organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play
+of mind as may suit its being that; we have the "Quarterly Review,"
+existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as much play of mind as may
+suit its being that; we have the "British Quarterly Review," existing
+as an organ of the political Dissenters, and for as much play of mind
+as may suit its being that; we have "The Times," existing as an organ
+of the common, satisfied, well-to-do Englishman, and for as much play
+of mind as may suit its being that. And so on through all the various
+fractions, political and religious, of our society--every fraction
+has, as such, its organ of criticism, but the notion of combining all
+fractions in the common pleasure of a free, disinterested play of mind
+meets with no favour. Yet no other criticism will ever attain any real
+authority, or make any real way towards its end--the creating of a
+current of true and fresh ideas.
+
+It will be said that, by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue
+of detachment, criticism condemns itself to a slow and obscure work;
+but it is the only proper work of criticism. Whoever sets himself to
+see things as they are will find himself one of a very small circle;
+but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its work that
+adequate ideas will ever get current at all. For the practical man is
+not apt for fine distinctions, and yet in these distinctions truth and
+the highest culture greatly find their account. To act is so easy, as
+Goethe says, and to think is so hard. Criticism must maintain its
+independence of the practical spirit and its aims. Even with well meant
+efforts of the practical spirit it must express dissatisfaction if, in
+the sphere of the ideal, they seem impoverishing and limiting. It must
+be apt to study and praise elements that for the fulness of spiritual
+perfection are wanted, even though they belong to a power which, in
+the practical sphere, may be maleficent. It must be apt to discern the
+spiritual shortcomings of powers that in the practical sphere may be
+beneficent.
+
+By the very nature of things much of the best that is known and
+thought in the world cannot be of English growth--must be foreign;
+by the nature of things, again, it is just this that we are least
+likely to know, while English thought is streaming in upon us from all
+sides, and takes excellent care that we shall not be ignorant of its
+existence. The English critic must dwell much on foreign thought, and
+with particular heed on any part of it, which, while significant and
+fruitful in itself, is for any reason specially likely to escape him.
+
+Again, judging is often spoken of as the critic's business; and so in
+some sense it is. But the judgment which almost insensibly forms itself
+in a fair and clear mind, along with fresh knowledge, is the valuable
+one; and, therefore, knowledge, and ever fresh knowledge, must be the
+critic's great concern for himself. And it is by communicating fresh
+knowledge, and letting his own judgment pass along with it--as a sort
+of companion and clue--that he will generally do most good to his
+readers.
+
+To get near the standard of the best that is known and thought in the
+world, every critic should possess one great literature at least beside
+his own; and the more unlike his own the better. For the criticism I am
+concerned with regards Europe as being for intellectual and spiritual
+purposes one great confederation, bound to a joint action and working
+to a common result.
+
+I conclude with what I said at the beginning. To have the sense of
+creative activity is not denied to criticism; but then criticism must
+be sincere, simple, flexible, ardent, ever widening its knowledge. Then
+it may have, in no contemptible measure, a joyful sense of creative
+activity, a sense which a man of insight and conscience will prefer
+to that he might derive from a poor, starved, fragmentary, inadequate
+creation. And at some epochs no other creation is possible. Still, in
+full measure, the sense of creative activity belongs only to genuine
+creation; in literature we must never forget that. But what true man of
+letters ever can forget it? It is no such common matter for a gifted
+nature to come into possession of a current of true and living ideas,
+and to produce amidst the inspiration of them, that we are likely to
+underrate it. The glorious epochs of �schylus and Shakespeare make us
+feel their pre-eminence. In an epoch like those is the true life of
+literature; there is the promised land towards which criticism can only
+beckon.
+
+
+_IV.--Should We Have an Academy?_
+
+It is impossible to put down a book like the history of the French
+Academy by Pellisson and D'Olivet without being led to reflect upon
+the absence in our own country of any institution like the French
+Academy, upon the probable causes of this absence, and upon its
+results. Improvement of the language was the declared grand aim for the
+operations of that academy. Its statutes of foundation say expressly
+that "the Academy's principal function shall be to work with all
+the care and all the diligence possible at giving sure rules to our
+language, and rendering it pure, eloquent and capable of treating
+the arts and sciences." It is said that Richelieu had it in his mind
+that French should succeed Latin in its general ascendancy, as Latin
+had succeeded Greek. If it were so, even this wish has to some extent
+been fulfilled. This was not all Richelieu had in his mind, however.
+The new academy was meant to be a literary tribunal, a high court of
+letters, and this is what it has really been.
+
+Such an effort, to set up a recognised authority, imposing on us a
+high standard in matters of intellect and taste, has many enemies in
+human nature. We all of us like to go our own way, and not to be forced
+out of the atmosphere of commonplace habitual to most of us. We like
+to be suffered to lie comfortably on the old straw of our habits,
+especially of our intellectual habits, even though this straw may not
+be very fine and clean. But if this effort to limit the freedom of our
+lower nature finds enemies in human nature, it also finds auxiliaries
+in it. Man alone of living creatures, says Cicero, goes feeling after
+the discovery of an order, a law of good taste; other creatures
+submissively fulfil the law of their nature.
+
+Now in France, says M. Sainte-Beuve, "the first consideration for us is
+not whether we are amused and pleased by a work of art or of mind, or
+is it whether we are touched by it. What we seek above all to learn is
+whether we were right in being amused with it, and in applauding it,
+and in being moved by it." A Frenchman has, to a considerable degree,
+what one may call a conscience in intellectual matters. Seeing this, we
+are on the road to see why the French have their Academy and we have
+nothing of the kind.
+
+What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of our nation?
+Our greatest admirers would not claim for us an open and clear mind,
+a quick and flexible intelligence. Rather would they allege as our
+chief spiritual characteristics energy and honesty--most important and
+fruitful qualities in the intellectual and spiritual, as in the moral
+sphere, for, of what we call genius, energy is the most essential
+part. Now, what that energy, which is the life of genius, above
+everything demands and insists upon, is freedom--entire independence of
+authority, prescription and routine, the fullest power to extend as
+it will. Therefore, a nation whose chief spiritual characteristic is
+energy will not be very apt to set up in intellectual matters a fixed
+standard, an authority like an academy. By this it certainly escapes
+real inconveniences and dangers, and it can, at the same time, reach
+undeniably splendid heights in poetry and science. We have Shakespeare,
+and we have Newton. In the intellectual sphere there can be no higher
+names.
+
+On the other hand, some of the requisites of intellectual work
+are specially the affair of quickness of mind and flexibility of
+intelligence. In prose literature they are of first-rate importance.
+These are elements that can, to a certain degree, be appropriated,
+while the free activity of genius cannot. Academies consecrate and
+maintain them, and therefore a nation with an eminent turn for them
+naturally establishes academies.
+
+
+_V.--Our Loss Through Provinciality_
+
+How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose! How much better do
+the productions of its spirit show in the qualities of genius than in
+the qualities of intelligence! But the question as to the utility of
+academies to the intellectual life of a nation is not settled when we
+say that we have never had an academy, yet we have, confessedly, a very
+great literature. It is by no means sure that either our literature
+or the general intellectual life of our nation has got already
+without academies all that academies can give. Our literature, in
+spite of the genius manifested in it, may fall short in form, method,
+precision, proportions, arrangement--all things where intelligence
+proper comes in. It may be weak in prose, full of haphazard, crudeness,
+provincialism, eccentricity, violence, blundering; and instead of
+always fixing our thoughts upon the points in which our literature is
+strong, we should, from time to time, fix them upon those in which
+it is weak. In France, the Academy serves as a sort of centre and
+rallying-point to educated opinion, and gives it a force which it has
+not got here. In the bulk of the intellectual work of a nation which
+has no centre, no intellectual metropolis like an academy, there is
+observable a note of provinciality. Great powers of mind will make a
+man think profoundly, but not even great powers of mind will keep his
+taste and style perfectly sound and sure if he is left too much to
+himself with no sovereign organ of opinion near him.
+
+Even men like Jeremy Taylor and Burke suffer here. Theirs is too often
+extravagant prose; prose too much suffered to indulge its caprices;
+prose at too great a distance from the centre of good taste; prose with
+the note of provinciality; Asiatic prose, somewhat barbarously rich and
+overloaded. The note of provinciality in Addison is to be found in the
+commonplace of his ideas, though his style is classical. Where there
+is no centre like an academy, if you have genius and powerful ideas,
+you are apt not to have the best style going; if you have precision of
+style and not genius, you are apt not to have the best ideas going.
+
+The provincial spirit exaggerates the value of its ideas for want of
+a high standard at hand by which to try them; it is hurried away by
+fancies; it likes and dislikes too passionately, too exclusively; its
+admiration weeps hysterical tears, and its disapprobation foams at the
+mouth. So we get the eruptive and aggressive manner in literature. Not
+having the lucidity of a large and centrally-placed intelligence, the
+provincial spirit has not its graciousness; it does not persuade, it
+makes war; it has not urbanity, the tone of the city, of the centre,
+the tone that always aims at a spiritual and intellectual effect. It
+loves hard-hitting rather than persuading. The newspaper, with its
+party spirit, its resolute avoidance of shades and distinctions, is
+its true literature. In England there needs a miracle of genius like
+Shakespeare to produce balance of mind, and a miracle of intellectual
+delicacy like Dr. Newman's to produce urbanity of style.
+
+The reader will ask for some practical conclusion about the
+establishment of an academy in this country, and perhaps I shall hardly
+give him the one he expects. Nations have their own modes of acting,
+and these modes are not easily changed; they are even consecrated when
+great things have been done in them. When a literature has produced
+a Shakespeare and a Milton, when it has even produced a Barrow and a
+Burke, it cannot well abandon its traditions; it can hardly begin at
+this late time of day with an institution like the French Academy. An
+academy quite like the French Academy, a sovereign organ of the highest
+literary opinion, a recognised authority in matters of intellectual
+tone and taste, we shall hardly have, and perhaps ought not to wish to
+have. But then every one amongst us with any turn for literature at all
+will do well to remember to what shortcomings and excesses, which such
+an academy tends to correct, we are liable, and the more liable, of
+course, for not having it. He will do well constantly to try himself in
+respect of these, steadily to widen his culture, and severely to check
+in himself the provincial spirit.
+
+
+_VI.--Some Illustrative Criticisms_
+
+To try and approach Truth on one side after another, not to strive or
+cry, not to persist in pressing forward on any one side with violence
+and self-will--it is only thus that mortals may hope to gain any vision
+of the mysterious goddess whom we shall never see except in outline.
+
+The grand power of poetry is the power of dealing with things so as to
+awaken in us a wonderfully full, new and intimate sense of them and
+of our relation with them, so that we feel ourselves to be in contact
+with the essential nature of those objects, to have their secret, and
+be in harmony with them, and this feeling calms and satisfies us as no
+other can. Maurice de Gu�rin manifested this magical power of poetry in
+singular eminence. His passion for perfection disdained all poetical
+work that was not perfectly adequate and felicitous.
+
+His sister Eug�nie de Gu�rin has the same characteristic
+quality--distinction. Of this quality the world is impatient; it
+chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates it, but ends by
+receiving its influence and by undergoing its law. This quality at last
+inexorably corrects the world's blunders, and fixes the world's ideals.
+
+Heine claimed that he was "a brave soldier in the war of the liberation
+of humanity." That was his significance. He was, if not pre-eminently
+a brave, yet a brilliant soldier in the war of liberation of humanity.
+He was not an adequate interpreter of the modern world, but only a
+brilliant soldier.
+
+Born in 1754, and dying in 1824, Joseph Joubert chose to hide his life;
+but he was a man of extraordinary ardour in the search for truth and
+of extraordinary fineness in the perception of it. He was one of those
+wonderful lovers of light who, when they have an idea to put forth,
+brood long over it first, and wait patiently till it shines.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE BRANDES
+
+Main Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century
+
+  George Brandes was born in Copenhagen on February 4, 1842, and
+  was educated at the University of Copenhagen. The appearance
+  of his "�sthetic Studies" in 1868 established his reputation
+  among men of letters of all lands. His criticism received a
+  philosophic bent from his study of John Stuart Mill, Comte, and
+  Renan. Complaint is often made of the bias exhibited by Brandes
+  in his works, which is somewhat of a blemish on the breadth
+  of his judgment. This bias finds its chief expression in his
+  anti-clericalism. His publications number thirty-three volumes,
+  and include works on history, literature, and criticism. He
+  has written studies of Shakespeare, of Lord Beaconsfield, of
+  Ibsen, and of Ferdinand Lassalle. His greatest work is the "Main
+  Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century." The field
+  covered is so vast that any attempted synopsis of the volume is
+  impossible here, so in this place we merely indicate the scope of
+  Brandes's monumental work, and state his general conclusions.
+
+
+_The Man and the Book_
+
+This remarkable essay in literary criticism is limited to the first
+half of the nineteenth century; it concludes with the historical
+turning-point of 1848. Within this period the author discovers, first,
+a reaction against the literature of the eighteenth century; and then,
+the vanquishment of that reaction. Or, in other words, there is first
+a fading away and disappearance of the ideas and feelings of the
+preceding century, and then a return of the ideas of progress in new
+and higher waves.
+
+"Literary history is, in its profoundest significance, psychology, the
+study, the history of the soul"; and literary criticism is, with our
+author, nothing less than the interior history of peoples. Whether we
+happen to agree or to disagree with his personal sympathies, which
+lie altogether with liberalism and whether his interpretation of these
+complex movements be accepted or rejected by future criticism, it is at
+least unquestionable that his estimate of his science is the right one,
+and that his method is the right one, and that no one stands beside
+Brandes as an exponent.
+
+The historical movement of the years 1800 to 1848 is here likened to a
+drama, of which six different literary groups represent the six acts.
+The first three acts incorporate the reaction against progress and
+liberty. They are, first, the French Emigrant Literature, inspired
+by Rousseau; secondly, the semi-Catholic Romantic school of Germany,
+wherein the reaction has separated itself more thoroughly from the
+contemporary struggle for liberty, and has gained considerably in
+depth and vigour; and, thirdly, the militant and triumphant reaction
+as shown in Joseph de Maistre, Lamennais, Lamartine and Victor Hugo,
+standing out for pope and monarch. The drama of reaction has here come
+to its climax; and the last three acts are to witness its fall, and the
+revival, in its place, of the ideas of liberty and of progress.
+
+"It is one man, Byron, who produces the revulsion in the great drama."
+And Byron and his English contemporaries, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott,
+Keats and Shelley, hold the stage in the fourth act, "Naturalism in
+England." The fifth act belongs to the Liberal movement in France, the
+"French Romantic School," including the names of Lamennais, Lamartine
+and Hugo in their second phase; and also those of De Musset and George
+Sand. The movement passes from France into "Young Germany," where the
+sixth act is played by Heine, Ruge, Feuerbach and others; and the
+ardent revolutionary writers of France and of Germany together prepare
+for the great political transformation of 1848.
+
+
+_I.--The Emigrant Literature_
+
+At the beginning of our period, France was subjected to two successive
+tyrannies: those, namely, of the Convention and of the Empire, both of
+which suppressed all independent thought and literature. Writers were,
+perforce, emigrants beyond the frontiers of French power, and were, one
+and all, in opposition to the Reign of Terror, or to the Napoleonic
+tyranny, or to both; one and all they were looking forward to the new
+age which should come.
+
+There was, therefore, a note of expectancy in this emigrant literature,
+which had also the advantage of real knowledge, gained in long exile,
+of foreign lands and peoples. Although it reacts against the dry and
+narrow rationalism of the eighteenth century, it is not as yet a
+complete reaction against the Liberalism of that period; the writers
+of the emigrant group are still ardent in the cause of Liberty. They
+are contrary to the spirit of Voltaire; but they are all profoundly
+influenced by Rousseau.
+
+Chateaubriand's romances, "Atala" and "Ren�," Rousseau's "The New
+H�lo�se" and Goethe's "Werther" are the subjects of studies which lead
+our critic to a consideration of that new spiritual condition of which
+they are the indications. "All the spiritual maladies," he says, "which
+make their appearance at this time may be regarded as the products
+of two great events--the emancipation of the individual and the
+emancipation of thought."
+
+Every career now lies open, potentially, to the individual. His
+opportunities, and therefore his desires, but not his powers, have
+become boundless; and "inordinate desire is always accompanied by
+inordinate melancholy." His release from the old order, which limited
+his importance, has set him free for self-idolatry; the old laws
+have broken down, and everything now seems permissible. He no longer
+feels himself part of a whole; he feels himself to be a little world
+which reflects the great world. The belief in the saving power of
+enlightenment had been rudely shaken, and the minds of men were
+confused like an army which receives contradictory orders in the midst
+of a battle. S�nancour, Nodier and Benjamin Constant have left us
+striking romances picturing the human spirit in this dilemma; they show
+also a new feeling for Nature, new revelations of subjectivity, and new
+ideas of womanhood and of passion.
+
+But of the emigrant literature Madame de Sta�l is the chief and
+central figure. The lawless savagery of the Revolution did not weaken
+her fidelity to personal and political freedom. "She wages war with
+absolutism in the state and hypocrisy in society. She teaches her
+countrymen to appreciate the characteristics and literature of the
+neighbouring nations; she breaks down with her own hands the wall of
+self-sufficiency with which victorious France had surrounded itself.
+Barante, with his perspective view of eighteenth-century France, only
+continues and completes her work."
+
+
+_II.--The Romantic School in Germany_
+
+German Romanticism continues the growing reaction against the
+eighteenth century; yet, though it is essentially reaction, it is not
+mere reaction, but contains the seeds of a new development. It is
+intellectual, poetical, philosophical and full of real life.
+
+This literary period, marked by the names of H�lderlin, A. W. Schlegel,
+Tieck, Jean Paul Richter, Schleiermacher, Wackenroder, Novalis, Arnim,
+Brentano, resulted in little that has endured. It produced no typical
+forms; the character of its literature is musical rather than plastic;
+its impulse is not a clear perception or creation, but an infinite and
+ineffable aspiration.
+
+An intenser spiritual life was at once the impulse and the goal of
+the Romanticists, in whom wonder and infinite desire are born again.
+A sympathetic interest in the fairy tale and the legend, in the face
+of Nature and in her creatures, in history, institutions and law, and
+a keener emotional sensitiveness in poetry, were the result of this
+refreshed interior life. In religion, the movement was towards the
+richly-coloured mystery and child-like faith of Catholicism; and in
+respect of human love it was towards freedom, spontaneity, intensity,
+and against the hard bonds of social conventions.
+
+But its emotions became increasingly morbid, abnormal and ineffectual.
+Romanticism tended really, not to the spiritual emancipation that was
+its avowed aim, but to a refinement of sensuality; an indolent and
+passive enjoyment is its actual goal; and it repudiates industry and
+utility as the philistine barriers which exclude us from Paradise.
+Retrogression, the going back to a fancied Paradise or Golden Age, is
+the central idea of Romanticism, and is the secret of the practical
+ineffectiveness of the movement.
+
+Friedrich Schlegel's romance, "Lucinde," is a very typical work of
+this period. It is based on the Romantic idea that life and poetry are
+identical, and its aim is to counsel the transformation of our actual
+life into a poem or work of art. It is a manifesto of self-absorption
+and of subjectivity; the reasoned defence of idleness, of enjoyment, of
+lawlessness, of the arbitrary expression of the Self, supreme above all.
+
+The mysticism of Novalis, who preferred sickness to health, night to
+day, and invested death itself with sensual delights, is described by
+himself as voluptuousness. It is full of a feverish, morbid desire,
+which becomes at last the desire for nothingness. The "blue flower," in
+his story "Heinrich von Ofterdingen," is the ideal, personal happiness,
+sought for in all Romanticism, but by its very nature never attainable.
+
+
+_III.--The Reaction in France_
+
+Herein we have the culmination of the reactionary movement. Certain
+authors are grouped together as labouring for the re-establishment of
+the fallen power of authority; and by the principle of authority is to
+be understood "the principle which assumes the life of the individual
+and of the nation to be based upon reverence for inherited tradition."
+Further, "the principle of authority in general stood or fell with the
+authority of the Church. When that was undermined, it drew all other
+authorities with it in its fall."
+
+After a study of the Revolution in its quality as a religious movement,
+and the story of the Concordat, our author traces the genesis of
+this extreme phase of the reaction. Its promoters were all of noble
+birth and bound by close ties to the old royal families; their aim
+was political rather than religious; "they craved for religion as
+a panacea for lawlessness." Their ruling idea was the principle of
+externality, as opposed to that of inward, personal feeling and private
+investigation; it was the principle of theocracy, as opposed to the
+sovereignty of the people; it was the principle of power, as opposed to
+the principles of human rights and liberties.
+
+Chateaubriand's famous book, "Le G�nie du Christianisme," devoid of
+real feeling, attempts to vindicate authority by means of an appeal
+to sentiment, as if taking for granted that a reasoned faith was now
+impossible. His point of view is romantic, and therefore, religiously,
+false; his reasoning is of the "how beautiful!" style.
+
+But the principle was enthroned by Count Joseph de Maistre, a very
+different man. The minister of the King of Sardinia at the court
+of Russia, he gained the emperor's confidence by his strong and
+pure character, his royalist principles, and his talents. His more
+important works, "Du Pape," "De l'Eglise Gallicane," and "Soir�es de
+St. P�tersbourg," are the most uncompromising defence of political
+and religious autocracy. The fundamental idea of his works is that
+"there is no human society without government, no government without
+sovereignty, and no sovereignty without infallibility." Beside De
+Maistre stands Bonald, a man of the same views, but without the other's
+daring and versatile wit. Chateaubriand's prose epic "Les Martyrs," the
+mystically sensual writings of Madame Kr�dener, and the lyric poetry
+of Lamartine and Victor Hugo further popularised the reaction, which
+reached its breaking point in Lamennais.
+
+It was at this moment, April, 1824, that the news came of Byron's death
+in Greece. The illusion dissolved; the reaction came to an end. The
+principle of authority fell, never to rise again; and the Immanuelistic
+school was succeeded by the Satanic.
+
+
+_IV.--Naturalism in England_
+
+The distinguishing character which our author discovers in the English
+poets is a love of Nature, of the country and the sea, of domestic
+animals and vegetation. This Naturalism, common to Wordsworth,
+Coleridge, Scott, Keats, Moore, Shelley and Byron, becomes, when
+transferred to social interests, revolutionary; the English poet is
+a Radical. Literary questions interest him not; he is at heart a
+politician.
+
+The political background of English intellectual life at this period
+is painted forcibly and in the darkest tones. It was "dark with
+terror produced in the middle classes by the excesses of the liberty
+movement in France, dark with the tyrannic lusts of proud Tories and
+the Church's oppressions, dark with the spilt blood of Irish Catholics
+and English artisans." In the midst of all this misery, Wordsworth and
+Coleridge recalled the English mind to the love of real Nature and to
+the love of liberty. Wordsworth's conviction was that in town life
+and its distractions men had forgotten Nature, and had been punished
+for it; constant social intercourse had dissipated their talents and
+impaired their susceptibility to simple and pure impressions. His
+naturalism is antagonistic to all official creeds; it is akin to the
+old Greek conception of Nature, and is impregnated with pantheism.
+
+The separate studies which follow, dealing with the natural Romanticism
+of Coleridge, Southey's Oriental Romanticism, the Lake school's
+conception of Liberty, the Historic Naturalism of Scott, the sensuous
+poetry of Keats, the poetry of Irish opposition and revolt, Thomas
+Campbell's poetry of freedom, the Republican Humanism of Landor,
+Shelley's Radical Naturalism, and like subjects, are of the highest
+importance to every English reader who would understand the time in
+which he lives. But Byron's is the heroic figure in this act. "Byron's
+genius takes possession of him, and makes him great and victorious in
+his argument, directing his aim with absolute certainty to the vital
+points." Byron's whole being burned with the profoundest compassion
+for the immeasurable sufferings of humanity. It was liberty that he
+worshipped, and he died for liberty.
+
+
+_V.--The Romantic School in France_
+
+During the Revolution the national property had been divided into
+twenty times as many hands as before, and with the fall of Napoleon
+the industrial period begins. All restrictions had been removed
+from industry and commerce, and capital became the moving power of
+society and the object of individual desires. The pursuit of money
+helps to give to the literature of the day its romantic, idealistic
+stamp. Balzac alone, however, made money the hero of his epic. Other
+great writers of the period, Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, George
+Sand, Beyle, M�rim�e, Th�ophile Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, kept as far as
+possible from the new reality.
+
+The young Romanticists of 1830 burned with a passion for art and a
+detestation of drab bourgeoisie. A break with tradition was demanded
+in all the arts; the original, the unconscious, the popular, were what
+they aimed at. It was now, as in Hugo's dramas, that the passionate
+plebeian appeared on the scene as hero; M�rim�e, as in "Carmen,"
+painted savage emotions; Nodier's children spoke like real children;
+George Sand depicted, in woman, not conscious virtue and vice, but the
+innate nobility and natural goodness of a noble woman's heart. The poet
+was no longer looked on as a courtier, but as the despised high-priest
+of humanity.
+
+The French Romantic school is the greatest literary school of the
+nineteenth century. It displayed three main tendencies--the endeavour
+to reproduce faithfully some real piece of past history or some phase
+of modern life; the endeavour after perfection of form; and enthusiasm
+for great religious or social reformatory ideas. These three tendencies
+are traced out in the ideals and work of the brilliant authors of the
+period; in George Sand, for instance, who proclaimed that the mission
+of art is a mission of sentiment and love; and in Balzac, who views
+society as the scientist investigates Nature--"he never moralises and
+condemns; he never allows himself to be led by disgust or enthusiasm to
+describe otherwise than truthfully; nothing is too small, nothing is
+too great to be examined and explained."
+
+The impressions which our author gives of Sainte-Beuve, Gautier,
+George Sand, Balzac and M�rim�e are vivid and concrete; they are high
+achievements in literary portraiture, set in a real historic background.
+
+
+_VI.--Young Germany_
+
+The personality, writings, and actions of Byron had an extraordinary
+influence upon "Young Germany," a movement initiated by Heine and
+B�rne, and characterised by a strong craving for liberty. "Byron,
+with his contempt for the real negation of liberty that lay concealed
+beneath the 'wars of liberty' against Napoleon, with his championship
+of the oppressed, his revolt against social custom, his sensuality and
+spleen, his passionate love of liberty in every domain, seemed to the
+men of that day to be an embodiment of all that they understood by the
+modern spirit, modern poetry."
+
+The literary group known as Young Germany has no creative minds of the
+highest, and only one of very high rank, namely, Heine. "It denied, it
+emancipated, it cleared up, it let in fresh air. It is strong through
+its doubt, its hatred of thraldom, its individualism." The Germany of
+those days has been succeeded by a quite new Germany, organised to
+build up and to put forth material strength, and the writers of the
+first half of the nineteenth century, who were always praising France
+and condemning the sluggishness of their own country, are but little
+read.
+
+The literary figures of this period who are painted by our author, are
+B�rne, Heine, Immermann, Menzel, Gutzkow, Laube, Mundt, Rahel Varnhagen
+von Ense, Bettina von Arnim, Charlotte Stieglitz, and many others, to
+whose writings, in conjunction with those of the French Romanticists,
+Brandes ascribes the general revolt of the oppressed peoples of Europe
+in 1848. Of the men of that date he says: "They had a faith that could
+remove mountains, and a hope that could shake the earth. Liberty,
+parliament, national unity, liberty of the Press, republic, were to
+them magic words, at the very sound of which their hearts leaped like
+the heart of a youth who suddenly sees his beloved."
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT BURTON
+
+The Anatomy of Melancholy
+
+  Robert Burton was born on February 8, 1576, of an old family, at
+  Lindley, Leicestershire, England; was educated at the free school
+  of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, and at Brasenose College,
+  Oxford, and in 1599 was elected student of Christ Church. In
+  1616 he was presented with the vicarage of St. Thomas, Oxford,
+  and in 1636 with the rectory of Segrave, in Leicestershire, and
+  kept both these livings until his death. But he lived chiefly
+  in his rooms at Christ Church, Oxford, where, burrowing in the
+  treasures of the Bodleian Library, he elaborated his learned
+  and whimsical book. He died on January 25, 1639, and was buried
+  in Christ Church Cathedral. The "Anatomy of Melancholy" is
+  an enormous compendium of sound sense, sly humour, universal
+  erudition, medi�val science, fantastic conceits, and noble
+  sentiments, arranged in the form of a most methodical treatise,
+  divided, and subdivided again, into sections dealing with every
+  conceivable aspect of this fell disorder. It is an intricate
+  tissue of quotations and allusions, and its interest lies as
+  much in its texture as in its argument. The "Anatomy" consists
+  of an introduction, "Democritus Junior to the Reader," and
+  then of three "Partitions," of which the first treats of the
+  Causes of Melancholy, the second of its Cure, and the third
+  of Love-Melancholy, wherewith is included the Melancholy of
+  Superstition.
+
+
+_I.--Democritus Junior to the Reader_
+
+Gentle reader, I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive to know what
+antic or personate actor this is that so insolently intrudes upon this
+common theatre to the world's view, arrogating another man's name;
+whence he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say. Seek not after
+that which is hid; if the contents please thee, suppose the man in the
+moon, or whom thou wilt, to be the author; I would not willingly be
+known.
+
+I have masked myself under this visard because, like Democritus,
+I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life in the
+university, penned up most part in my study. Though by my profession
+a divine, yet, out of a running wit, an unconstant, unsettled mind, I
+had a great desire to have some smattering in all subjects; which Plato
+commends as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a slave
+of one science, as most do, but to rove abroad, to have an oar in every
+man's boat, to taste of every dish, and to sip of every cup; which,
+saith Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle.
+
+I have little, I want nothing; all my treasure is in Minerva's tower.
+Though I lead a monastic life, myself my own theatre, I hear and see
+what is done abroad, how others run, ride, turmoil, in court and
+country. Amid the gallantry and misery of the world, jollity, pride,
+perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy, subtlety, knavery,
+candour, and integrity, I rub on in private, left to a solitary life
+and mine own domestic discontents.
+
+So I call myself Democritus, to assume a little more liberty of speech,
+or, if you will needs know, for that reason which Hippocrates relates,
+how, coming to visit him one day, he found Democritus in his garden
+at Abdera, under a shady bower, with a book on his knees, busy at
+his study, sometimes writing, sometimes walking. The subject of his
+book was melancholy and madness. About him lay the carcasses of many
+several beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomised; not that he did
+contemn God's creatures, but to find out the seat of this black bile,
+or melancholy, and how it is engendered in men's bodies, to the intent
+he might better cure it in himself, and by his writings teach others
+how to avoid it; which good intent of his Democritus Junior is bold to
+imitate, and because he left it imperfect and it is now lost, to revive
+again, prosecute, and finish in this treatise. I seek not applause; I
+fear good men's censures, and to their favourable acceptance I submit
+my labours. But as the barking of a dog I contemn those malicious and
+scurrile obloquies, flouts, calumnies of railers and detractors.
+
+Of the necessity of what I have said, if any man doubt of it, I shall
+desire him to make a brief survey of the world, as Cyprian adviseth
+Donate; supposing himself to be transported to the top of some high
+mountain, and thence to behold the tumults and chances of this wavering
+world, he cannot choose but either laugh at, or pity it. St. Hierom,
+out of a strong imagination, being in the wilderness, conceived that he
+saw them dancing in Rome; and if thou shalt climb to see, thou shalt
+soon perceive that all the world is mad, that it is melancholy, dotes;
+that it is a common prison of gulls, cheats, flatterers, etc., and
+needs to be reformed. Kingdoms and provinces are melancholy; cities
+and families, all creatures vegetal, sensible and rational, all sorts,
+sects, ages, conditions, are out of tune; from the highest to the
+lowest have need of physic. Who is not brain-sick? Oh, giddy-headed
+age! Mad endeavours! Mad actions!
+
+If Democritus were alive now, and should but see the superstition of
+our age, our religious madness, so many professed Christians, yet so
+few imitators of Christ, so much talk and so little conscience, so many
+preachers and such little practice, such variety of sects--how dost
+thou think he might have been affected? What would he have said to see,
+hear, and read so many bloody battles, such streams of blood able to
+turn mills, to make sport for princes, without any just cause? Men well
+proportioned, carefully brought up, able in body and mind, led like
+so many beasts to the slaughter in the flower of their years, without
+remorse and pity, killed for devils' food, 40,000 at once! At once?
+That were tolerable; but these wars last always; and for many ages,
+nothing so familiar as this hacking and hewing, massacres, murders,
+desolations! Who made creatures, so peaceable, born to love, mercy,
+meekness, so to rave like beasts and run to their own destruction?
+
+How would our Democritus have been affected to see so many lawyers,
+advocates, so many tribunals, so little justice; so many laws, yet
+never more disorders; the tribunal a labyrinth; to see a lamb executed,
+a wolf pronounce sentence? What's the market but a place wherein they
+cozen one another, a trap? Nay, what's the world itself but a vast
+chaos, a theatre of hypocrisy, a shop of knavery, a scene of babbling,
+the academy of vice? A warfare, in which you must kill or be killed,
+wherein every man is for himself; no charity, love, friendship, fear of
+God, alliance, affinity, consanguinity, can contain them. Our goddess
+is Queen Money, to whom we daily offer sacrifice. It's not worth,
+virtue, wisdom, valour, learning, honesty, religion, for which we are
+respected, but money, greatness, office, honour. All these things are
+easy to be discerned, but how would Democritus have been moved had he
+seen the secrets of our hearts! All the world is mad, and every member
+of it, and I can but wish myself and them a good physician, and all of
+us a better mind.
+
+
+_II.--The Causes of Melancholy_
+
+The impulsive cause of these miseries in man was the sin of our first
+parent, Adam; and this, belike, is that which our poets have shadowed
+unto us in the tale of Pandora's Box, which, being opened through
+her curiosity, filled the world full of all manner of diseases. But
+as our sins are the principal cause, so the instrumental causes of
+our infirmities are as diverse as the infirmities themselves. Stars,
+heavens, elements, and all those creatures which God hath made, are
+armed against sinners. But the greatest enemy to man is man, his own
+executioner, a wolf, a devil to himself and others. Again, no man
+amongst us so sound that hath not some impediment of body or mind.
+There are diseases acute and chronic, first and secondary, lethal,
+salutary, errant, fixed, simple, compound, etc. Melancholy is the most
+eminent of the diseases of the phantasy or imagination; and dotage,
+phrensy, madness, hydrophobia, lycanthropy, St. Vitus' dance, and
+ecstasy are forms of it.
+
+Melancholy is either in disposition or habit. In disposition it is that
+transitory melancholy which comes and goes upon every small occasion
+of sorrow; we call him melancholy that is dull, sad, sour, lumpish,
+ill-disposed, and solitary; and from these dispositions no man living
+is free; none so wise, patient, happy, generous, or godly, that can
+vindicate himself.
+
+Melancholy is a cold and dry, thick, black, and sour humour, purged
+from the spleen; it is a bridle to the other two hot humours, blood and
+choler, preserving them in the blood and nourishing the bones. Such as
+have the Moon, Saturn, Mercury, misaffected in their genitures; such as
+live in over-cold or over-hot climates; such as are solitary by nature;
+great students, given to much contemplation; such as lead a life out of
+action; all are most subject to melancholy.
+
+Six things are much spoken of amongst physicians as principal causes
+of this disease; if a man be melancholy, he hath offended in one of
+the six. They are diet, air, exercise, sleeping, and walking, and
+perturbations of the mind.
+
+Idleness, the badge of gentry, or want of exercise, the bane of body
+and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief author of all mischief,
+one of the seven deadly sins, and a sole cause of this and many other
+maladies, the devil's cushion and chief reposal, begets melancholy
+sooner than anything else. Such as live at ease, and have no ordinary
+employment to busy themselves about, cannot compose themselves to do
+aught; they cannot abide work, though it be necessary, easy, as to
+dress themselves, write a letter, or the like. He or she that is idle,
+be they never so rich, fortunate, happy, let them have all that heart
+can desire, they shall never be pleased, never well in body and mind,
+but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping,
+sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every
+object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away with some
+foolish phantasy or other.
+
+Others, giving way to the passions and perturbations of fear, grief,
+shame, revenge, hatred, malice, etc., are torn in pieces, as Act�on was
+with his dogs, and crucify their own souls. Every society and private
+family is full of envy; it takes hold of all sorts of men, from prince
+to ploughman; scarce three in a company, but there is siding, faction,
+emulation, between two of them, some jar, private grudge, heart-burning
+in the midst. Scarce two great scholars in an age, but with bitter
+invectives they fall foul one on the other. Being that we are so
+peevish and perverse, insolent and proud, so factious and seditious,
+malicious and envious, we do maul and vex one another, torture,
+disquiet, and precipitate ourselves into that gulf of woes and cares,
+aggravate our misery and melancholy, and heap upon us hell and eternal
+damnation.
+
+
+_III.--The Cure of Melancholy_
+
+"It matters not," saith Paracelsus, "whether it be God or the devil,
+angels or unclean spirits, cure him, so that he be eased." Some have
+recourse to witches; but much better were it for patients that are
+troubled with melancholy to endure a little misery in this life than
+to hazard their souls' health for ever. All unlawful cures are to be
+refused, and it remains to treat of those that are admitted.
+
+These are such as God hath appointed, by virtue of stones, herbs,
+plants, meats, and the like, which are prepared and applied to our use
+by the art and industry of physicians, God's intermediate ministers.
+We must begin with prayer and then use physic; not one without the
+other, but both together.
+
+Diet must be rectified in substance and in quantity; air rectified;
+for there is much in choice of place and of chamber, in opportune
+opening and shutting of windows, and in walking abroad at convenient
+times. Exercise must be rectified of body and mind. Hawking, hunting,
+fishing are good, especially the last, which is still and quiet, and
+if so be the angler catch no fish, yet he hath a wholesome walk and
+pleasant shade by the sweet silver streams. But the most pleasant of
+all pastimes is to make a merry journey now and then with some good
+companions, to visit friends, see cities, castles, towns, to walk
+amongst orchards, gardens, bowers, to disport in some pleasant plain.
+St. Bernard, in the description of his monastery, is almost ravished
+with the pleasures of it. "Good God," saith he, "what a company of
+pleasures hast Thou made for man!" But what is so fit and proper to
+expel idleness and melancholy as study? What so full of content as
+to read, and see maps, pictures, statues, jewels, and marbles, so
+exquisite to be beheld that, as Chrysostom thinketh, "if any man be
+sickly or troubled in mind, and shall but stand over against one of
+Phidias's images, he will forget all care in an instant?"
+
+If thou receivest wrong, compose thyself with patience to bear it.
+Thou shalt find greatest ease to be quiet. I say the same of scoffs,
+slanders, detractions, which tend to our disgrace; 'tis but opinion;
+if we would neglect or contemn them, they would reflect disgrace on
+them that offered them. "Yea, but I am ashamed, disgraced, degraded,
+exploded; my notorious crimes and villainies are come to light!" Be
+content; 'tis but a nine days' wonder; 'tis heavy, ghastly, fearful
+news at first, but thine offence will be forgotten in an instant. Thou
+art not the first offender, nor shalt thou be the last. If he alone
+should accuse thee that were faultless, how many executioners, how
+many accusers, would thou have? Shall every man have his desert, thou
+wouldst peradventure be a saint in comparison. Be not dismayed; it is
+human to err. Be penitent, ask forgiveness, and vex thyself no more.
+Doth the moon care for the barking of a dog?
+
+
+_IV.--Love-Melancholy_
+
+There will not be wanting those who will much discommend this treatise
+of love-melancholy, and object that it is too light for a divine,
+too phantastical, and fit only for a wanton poet. So that they may
+be admired for grave philosophers, and staid carriage, they cannot
+abide to hear talk of love-toys; in all their outward actions they are
+averse; and yet, in their cogitations, they are all but as bad, if not
+worse than others. I am almost afraid to relate the passions which this
+tyrant love causeth among men; it hath wrought such stupendous and
+prodigious effects, such foul offences.
+
+As there be divers causes of this heroical love, so there be many good
+remedies, among which good counsel and persuasion are of great moment,
+especially if it proceed from a wise, fatherly, discreet person. They
+will lament and howl for a while; but let him proceed, by foreshewing
+the miserable dangers that will surely happen, the pains of hell, joys
+of paradise, and the like; and this is a very good means, for love is
+learned of itself, but hardly left without a tutor.
+
+In sober sadness, marriage is a bondage, a thraldom, a hindrance to all
+good enterprises; "he hath married a wife, and therefore cannot come";
+a rock on which many are saved, many are cast away. Not that the thing
+is evil in itself, or troublesome, but full of happiness, and a thing
+which pleases God; but to indiscreet, sensual persons, it is a feral
+plague, many times an hell itself. If thy wife be froward, all is in
+an uproar; if wise and learned, she will be insolent and peevish; if
+poor, she brings beggary; if young, she is wanton and untaught. Say
+the best, she is a commanding servant; thou hadst better have taken a
+good housewifely maid in her smock. Since, then, there is such hazard,
+keep thyself as thou art; 'tis good to match, much better to be free.
+Consider withal how free, how happy, how secure, how heavenly, in
+respect, a single man is.
+
+But when all is said, since some be good, some bad, let's put it to the
+venture. Marry while thou mayest, and take thy fortune as it falls.
+Be not so covetous, so distrustful, so curious and nice, but let's
+all marry; to-morrow is St. Valentine's Day. Since, then, marriage
+is the last and best cure of heroical love, all doubts are cured and
+impediments removed; God send us all good wives!
+
+Take this for a corollory and conclusion; as thou tenderest thine own
+welfare in love-melancholy, in the melancholy of religion, and in all
+other melancholy; observe this short precept--Be not solitary; be not
+idle.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE
+
+On Heroes and Hero-Worship
+
+  This is the last of four series of lectures which Carlyle (see
+  Vol. IX, p. 99) delivered in London in successive years, and is
+  the only series which was published. The "Lectures on Heroes"
+  were given in May, 1840, and were published, with emendations
+  and additions, from the reporter's notes in 1841. The preceding
+  series were on "German Literature," 1837; "The Successive Periods
+  of European Culture," 1838; and "The Revolutions of Modern
+  Europe," 1839. Carlyle's profound and impassioned belief in the
+  quasi-divine inspiration of great men, in the authoritative
+  nature of their "message," and in their historical effectiveness,
+  was a reaction against a way of writing history which finds the
+  origin of events in "movements," "currents," and "tendencies"
+  neglecting or minimising the power of personality. For Carlyle,
+  biography was the essential element in history; his view of
+  events was the dramatic view, as opposed to the scientific
+  view. It is idle to inquire which is the better or truer view,
+  where both are necessary. But Carlyle is here specially tilting
+  against a prejudice which has so utterly passed away that it
+  is difficult even to imagine it. This was to the effect that
+  eminent historical figures have been in some sense impostors.
+  This work suffers a good deal from its origin, but, like others
+  of Carlyle's writings, it has had great effect in discrediting a
+  barren and flippant rationalism.
+
+
+_I.--The Hero as Divinity_
+
+We have undertaken to discourse on great men, their manner of
+appearance in our world's business, how they shaped themselves in the
+world's history, what ideas men formed of them, and what work they did.
+We are to treat of hero-worship and the heroic in human affairs. The
+topic is as wide as universal history itself, for the history of what
+man has accomplished in this world is, at bottom, the history of the
+great men who have worked here.
+
+It is well said that a man's religion is the chief fact with regard to
+him. I do not mean the Church creed which he professes, but the thing
+that he does practically believe, the manner in which he feels himself
+to be spiritually related to the unseen world. Was it heathenism, a
+plurality of gods, a mere sensuous representation of the mystery of
+life, and for chief recognised element therein physical force? Was it
+Christianism; faith in an Invisible as the only reality; time ever
+resting on eternity; pagan empire of force displaced by the nobler
+supremacy of holiness? Was it scepticism, uncertainty, and inquiry
+whether there was an unseen world at all, or perhaps unbelief and flat
+denial? The answer to these questions gives us the soul of the history
+of the man or nation.
+
+Odin, the central figure of Scandinavian paganism, shall be our emblem
+of the hero as divinity. And in the first place I protest against the
+theory that this paganism or any other religion has consisted of mere
+quackery, priestcraft, and dupery. Quackery gives birth to nothing;
+gives death to all. Man everywhere is the born enemy of lies, and
+paganism, to its followers, was at one time earnestly true. Nor can
+we admit that other theory, which attributed these mythologies to
+allegory, or to the play of poetic minds. Pagan religion, like every
+other, is indeed a symbol of what men felt about the universe, but a
+practical guiding knowledge of this mysterious life of theirs, and not
+a perfect poetic symbol of it, has been the want of men. The "Pilgrim's
+Progress" is a just and beautiful allegory, but it could never have
+preceded the faith which it symbolises. Men never risked their soul's
+life on allegories; there was a kind of fact at the heart of paganism.
+
+To the primitive pagan thinker, who was simple as a child, yet had
+a man's depth and strength, nature had as yet no name. It stood
+naked, flashing in on him, beautiful, awful, unspeakable; nature was
+preternatural. The world, which is now divine only to the gifted, was
+then divine to whosoever would turn his eye upon it. Still more was the
+body of man, and the mystery of his consciousness, an emblem to them of
+God, and truly worshipful.
+
+How much more, then, was the worship of a hero reasonable--the
+transcendent admiration of a great man! For great men are still
+admirable. At bottom there is nothing else admirable. Admiration for
+one higher than himself is to this hour the vivifying influence in
+man's life, and is the germ of Christianity itself. The greatest of all
+heroes is One whom we do not name here.
+
+Without doubt there was a first teacher and captain of these northern
+peoples, an Odin palpable to the sense, a real hero of flesh and blood.
+Tradition calls him inventor of the Runes, or Scandinavian alphabet,
+and again of poetry. To the wild Norse souls this noble-hearted man was
+hero, prophet, god. That the man Odin, speaking with a hero's voice and
+heart, as with an impressiveness out of Heaven, told his people the
+infinite importance of valour, how man thereby became a god; and that
+his people believed this message of his, and thought it a message out
+of Heaven, and believed him a divinity for telling it to them--this
+seems to me the primary seed-grain of the Norse religion. For that
+religion was a sternly impressive consecration of valour.
+
+
+_II.--The Hero as Prophet_
+
+We turn now to Mohammedanism among the Arabs for the second phase of
+hero-worship, wherein the hero is not now regarded as a god, but as
+one God-inspired, a prophet. Mohammed is not the most eminent prophet,
+but is the one of whom we are freest to speak. Nor is he the truest of
+prophets but I do esteem him a true one. Let us try to understand what
+he meant with the world; what the world meant and means with him will
+then be more answerable.
+
+Certainly he was no scheming impostor, no falsehood incarnate; theories
+of that kind are the product of an age of scepticism, and indicate the
+saddest spiritual paralysis. A false man found a religion? Why, a false
+man cannot build a brick house! No Mirabeau, Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell,
+no man adequate to do anything, but is first of all in right earnest
+about it. Sincerity is the great characteristic of all men in any way
+heroic.
+
+The Arabs are a notable people; their country itself is notable.
+Consider that wide, waste horizon of sand, empty, silent like a sea;
+you are all alone there, left alone with the universe; by day a fierce
+sun blazing down with intolerable radiance; by night the great deep
+heaven, with its stars--a fit country for a swift-handed, deep-hearted
+race of men. The Arab character is agile, active, yet most meditative,
+enthusiastic. Hospitable, taciturn, earnest, truthful, deeply
+religious, the Arabs were a people of great qualities, waiting for the
+day when they should become notable to all the world.
+
+Here, in the year 570 of our era, the man Mohammed was born, and grew
+up in the bosom of the wilderness, alone with Nature and his own
+thoughts. From an early age he had been remarked as a thoughtful man,
+and his companions named him "The Faithful." He was forty before he
+talked of any mission from Heaven. All this time living a peaceful
+life, he was looking through the shows of things into things themselves.
+
+Then, having withdrawn to a cavern near Mecca for a month of prayer and
+meditation, he told his wife Kadijah that, by the unspeakable favour of
+Heaven, he was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all. That
+all these idols and formulas were nothing; that there was one God in
+and over all; that God is great and is the reality. _Allah akbar_,
+"God is great"; and then _Islam_, "we must submit to Him."
+
+This is yet the only true morality known. A man is right and
+invincible, while he joins himself to the great deep law of the
+world, in spite of all superficial laws, temporary appearances,
+profit-and-loss calculations. This is the soul of Islam, and is
+properly also the soul of Christianity. We are to receive whatever
+befalls us as sent from God above. Islam means in its way the denial
+of self, annihilation of self. This is yet the highest wisdom that
+Heaven has revealed to our earth. In Mohammed, and in his Koran, I
+find first of all sincerity, the total freedom from cant. For these
+twelve centuries his religion has been the guidance of a fifth part of
+mankind, and, above all, it has been a religion heartily believed.
+
+The Arab nation was a poor shepherd people; a hero-prophet was sent
+down to them; within one century afterwards Arabia is at Grenada on
+this hand, at Delhi on that!
+
+
+_III.--The Hero as Poet_
+
+The hero as divinity and as prophet are productions of old ages, not
+to be repeated in the new. We are now to see our hero in the less
+ambitious, but also less questionable, character of poet. For the hero
+can be poet, prophet, king, priest, or what you will, according to the
+kind of world he finds himself born into. I have no notion of a truly
+great man that could not be all sorts of men.
+
+Indeed, the poet and prophet, participators in the open secret of the
+universe, are one; though the prophet has seized the sacred mystery
+rather on its moral side, and the poet on the �sthetic side. Poetry is
+essentially a song; its thoughts are musical not in word only, but in
+heart and in substance.
+
+Shakespeare and Dante are our two canonised poets; they dwell
+apart, none equal, none second to them. Dante's book was written, in
+banishment, with his heart's blood. His great soul, homeless on earth,
+made its home more and more in that awful other world. The three
+kingdoms--_Inferno_, _Purgatorio_, _Paradiso_--are like compartments of
+a great supernatural world-cathedral, piled up there, stern, solemn,
+awful; Dante's world of souls. It is the sincerest of all poems.
+Sincerity here, too, we find to be the measure of worth. Intensity is
+the prevailing character of his genius; his greatness lies in fiery
+emphasis and depth; it is seen even in the graphic vividness of his
+painting. Dante burns as a pure star, fixed in the firmament, at which
+the great and high of all ages kindle themselves.
+
+As Dante embodies musically the inner life of the Middle Ages, so
+Shakespeare embodies for us its outer life, its chivalries, courtesies,
+humours, ambitions. Dante gave us the soul of Europe; Shakespeare gave
+us its body. Of this Shakespeare of ours, the best judgment of Europe
+is slowly pointing to the conclusion that he is the chief of all poets,
+the greatest intellect who has left record of himself in the way of
+literature.
+
+It is in portrait-painting, the delineation of men, that the greatness
+of Shakespeare comes out most decisively. His calm, creative
+perspicacity is unexampled. The word that will describe the thing
+follows of itself from such clear intense sight of the thing. He takes
+in all kinds of men--a Falstaff, Othello, Juliet, Coriolanus; sets them
+all forth to us in their rounded completeness, loving, just, the equal
+brother of all.
+
+The degree of vision that dwells in a man is a correct measure of
+the man, and Shakespeare's is the greatest of intellects. Novalis
+beautifully remarks of him that those dramas of his are products of
+nature, too, deep as nature herself. Shakespeare's art is not artifice;
+the noblest worth of it is not there by plan or pre-contrivance. The
+latest generations of men will find new meanings in Shakespeare, new
+elucidations of their own human being.
+
+Shakespeare, too, was a prophet, in his way, of an insight analogous to
+the prophetic, though he took it up in another strain. Nature seemed to
+this man also divine, unspeakable, deep as Tophet, high as heaven. "We
+are such stuff as dreams are made of." There rises a kind of universal
+psalm out of Shakespeare, not unfit to make itself heard among the
+still more sacred psalms.
+
+England, before long, this island of ours, will hold but a small
+fraction of the English; east and west to the antipodes there will be a
+Saxondom covering great spaces of the globe. What is it that can keep
+all these together into virtually one nation, so that they do not fall
+out and fight, but live at peace? Here, I say, is an English king whom
+no time or chance can dethrone! King Shakespeare shines over us all, as
+the noblest, gentlest, yet strongest of rallying-signs; we can fancy
+him as radiant aloft over all the nations of Englishmen, a thousand
+years hence. Truly it is a great thing for a nation that it gets an
+articulate voice.
+
+
+_IV.--The Hero as Priest_
+
+The priest, too, is a kind of prophet. In him, also, there is required
+to be a light of inspiration. He presides over the worship of the
+people, and is the uniter of them with the unseen Holy. He is their
+spiritual captain, as the prophet is their spiritual king with many
+captains.
+
+Luther and Knox were by express vocation priests, yet it will suit us
+better here to consider them chiefly in their historical character as
+reformers. The battling reformer is from time to time a needful and
+inevitable phenomenon. Obstructions are never wanting; the very things
+that were once indispensable furtherances become obstructions, and
+need to be shaken off and left behind us--a business often of enormous
+difficulty.
+
+We are to consider Luther as an idol-breaker, a bringer back of men to
+reality, for that is the function of great men and teachers. Thus it
+was that Luther said to the Pope, "This thing of yours that you call a
+pardon of sins, is a bit of rag-paper with ink. It, and so much like
+it, is nothing else. God alone can pardon sins. God's Church is not a
+semblance, Heaven and Hell are not semblances. Standing on this, I, a
+poor German monk, am stronger than you all."
+
+The most interesting phase which the Reformation anywhere assumes
+is that of Puritanism, which even got itself established as a
+Presbyterianism and National Church among the Scotch, and has produced
+in the world very notable fruit. Knox was the chief priest and founder
+of that faith which became the faith of Scotland, of New England, of
+Oliver Cromwell; and that which Knox did for his nation we may really
+call a resurrection as from death. The people began to live. Scotch
+literature and thought, Scotch industry, James Watt, David Hume, Walter
+Scott, Robert Burns--I find Knox and the Reformation acting in the
+heart's core of every one of these persons and phenomena; I find that
+without the Reformation they would not have been.
+
+Knox could not live but by fact. He is an instance to us how a
+man, by sincerity itself, becomes heroic. We find in Knox a good,
+honest, intellectual talent, no transcendent one; he was a narrow,
+inconsiderable man as compared with Luther; but in heartfelt,
+instinctive adherence to truth, in real sincerity, he has no superior.
+His heart is of the true prophet cast. "He lies there," said the Earl
+of Morton, at his grave, "who never feared the face of man."
+
+
+_V.--The Hero as Man of Letters_
+
+The hero as man of letters is a new and singular phenomenon. Living
+in his squalid garret and rusty coat; ruling from his grave after
+death whole nations and generations; he must be regarded as our most
+important modern person. Such as he may be, he is the soul of all.
+Intrinsically it is the same function which the old generations named a
+prophet, priest, or divinity for doing.
+
+The three great prophets of the eighteenth century, that singular
+age of scepticism, were Johnson, Rousseau, and Burns; they were not,
+indeed, heroic bringers of the light, but heroic seekers of it,
+struggling under mountains of impediment.
+
+As for Johnson, I have always considered him to be, by nature, one of
+our great English souls. It was in virtue of his sincerity, of his
+speaking still in some sort from the heart of nature, though in the
+current artificial dialect, that Johnson was a prophet. The highest
+gospel he preached was a kind of moral prudence, coupled with this
+other great gospel, "Clear your mind of cant!" These two things, joined
+together, were, perhaps, the greatest gospel that was possible at that
+time.
+
+Of Rousseau and his heroism I cannot say so much. He was not a strong
+man; but a morbid, excitable, spasmodic man; at best, intense rather
+than strong. Yet, at least he was heartily in earnest, if ever man was;
+his ideas possessed him like demons.
+
+The fault and misery of Rousseau was egoism, which is the source and
+summary of all faults and miseries whatsoever. He had not perfected
+himself into victory over mere desire; a mean hunger was still his
+motive principle. He was a very vain man, hungry for the praises of
+men. The whole nature of the man was poisoned; there was nothing but
+suspicion, self-isolation, and fierce, moody ways.
+
+And yet this Rousseau, with his celebrations of nature, even of savage
+life in nature, did once more touch upon reality and struggle towards
+reality. Strangely through all that defacement, degradation, and almost
+madness, there is in the inmost heart of poor Rousseau a spark of
+real heavenly fire. Out of all that withered, mocking philosophism,
+scepticism, and persiflage of his day there has arisen in this man the
+ineradicable feeling and knowledge that this life of ours is true, not
+a theorem, but a fact.
+
+The French Revolution found its evangelist in Rousseau. His
+semi-delirious speculations on the miseries of civilised life, and such
+like, helped to produce a delirium in France generally. It is difficult
+to say what the governors of the world could do with such a man. What
+he could do with them is clear enough--guillotine a great many of them.
+
+The tragedy of Burns's life is known to all. The largest soul of all
+the British lands appeared under every disadvantage; uninstructed,
+poor, born only to hard manual toil; and writing, when it came to that,
+in a rustic special dialect, known only to a small province of the
+country he lived in.
+
+We find in Burns a noble, rough genuineness, the true simplicity of
+strength, and a deep and earnest element of sunshine and joyfulness;
+yet the chief quality, both of his poetry and of his life, is
+sincerity--a wild wrestling with the truth of things.
+
+
+_VI.--The Hero as King_
+
+The commander over men, to whose will our wills are to be subordinated
+and loyally surrender themselves, and find their welfare in doing
+so, may be reckoned the most important of great men. He is called
+_Rex_, "Regulator"; our own name is still better--king, which means
+"can-ning," "able-man."
+
+In rebellious ages, when kingship itself seems dead and abolished,
+Cromwell and Napoleon step forth again as kings. The old ages are
+brought back to us; the manner in which kings were made, and kingship
+itself first took rise, is again exhibited in the history of these two.
+
+The war of the Puritans was a section of that universal war which alone
+makes up the true history of the world--the war of Belief against
+Unbelief; the struggle of men intent on the real essence of things,
+against men intent on the semblances and forms of things. And among
+these Puritans Cromwell stood supreme, grappling like a giant, face
+to face, heart to heart, with the naked truth of things. Yet Cromwell
+alone finds no hearty apologist anywhere. Selfish ambition, dishonesty,
+duplicity; a fierce, coarse, hypocritical Tartuffe; turning all that
+noble struggle for constitutional liberty into a sorry farce played for
+his own benefit. This, and worse, is the character they give him.
+
+From of old, this theory of Cromwell's falsity has been incredible to
+me. All that we know of him betokens an earnest, hearty sincerity.
+Everywhere we have to note his decisive, practical eye, how he drives
+towards the practicable, and has a genuine insight into what is fact.
+Such an intellect does not belong to a false man; the false man sees
+false shows, plausibilities, expediences; the true man is needed to
+discern even practical truth.
+
+Napoleon by no means seems to me so great a man as Cromwell. His
+enormous victories which reached over all Europe, while Cromwell abode
+mainly in our little England, are but as the high stilts on which the
+man is seen standing; the stature of the man is not altered thereby. I
+find in him no such sincerity as in Cromwell; only a far inferior sort.
+
+"False as a bulletin," became a proverb in Napoleon's time. Yet he had
+a sincerity, a certain instinctive, ineradicable feeling for reality;
+and did base himself upon fact, so long as he had any basis. He had an
+instinct of Nature better than his culture was. His companions, we are
+told, were one evening busily occupied arguing that there could be no
+God; they had proved it by all manner of logic. Napoleon, looking up
+into the stars, answers, "Very ingenious, Messieurs; but who made all
+that?" The atheistic logic runs off from him like water; the great fact
+stares him in the face. So, too, in practice; he, as every man that can
+be great, sees, through all entanglements, the practical heart of the
+matter, and drives straight towards that.
+
+Accordingly, there was a faith in him, genuine so far as it went. That
+this new, enormous democracy is an insuppressible fact, which the
+whole world cannot put down--this was a true insight of his, and took
+his conscience and enthusiasm along with it. And did he not interpret
+the dim purport of it well? _La carri�re ouverte aux talents_--"the
+implements to him who can handle them"--this actually is the truth, and
+even the whole truth; it includes whatever the French Revolution or any
+revolution could mean. It is a great, true message from our last great
+man.
+
+
+
+
+Sartor Resartus
+
+  "Sartor Resartus," first published in "Frazer's Magazine" in
+  1833-34, is Thomas Carlyle's most popular work, and is largely
+  autobiographical.
+
+
+I.--_The Philosophy of Clothes_
+
+Considering our present advanced state of culture, and how the torch
+of science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or
+less effect, for five thousand years and upwards, it is surprising
+that hitherto little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether
+in the way of philosophy or history, has been written on the subject
+of clothes. Every other tissue has been dissected, but the vestural
+tissue of woollen or other cloth, which man's soul wears as its outmost
+wrappage, has been quite overlooked. All speculation has tacitly
+figured man as a clothed animal, whereas he is by nature a naked
+animal, and only in certain circumstances, by purpose and device, masks
+himself in clothes.
+
+But here, as in so many other cases, learned, indefatigable,
+deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid. The editor of these sheets
+has lately received a new book from Professor Teufelsdr�ckh, of
+Weissnichtwo, treating expressly of "Clothes, their Origin and
+Influence" (1831). This extensive volume, a very sea of thought,
+discloses to us not only a new branch of philosophy, but also
+the strange personal character of Professor Teufelsdr�ckh, which
+is scarcely less interesting. We were just considering how the
+extraordinary doctrines of this book might best be imparted to our
+own English nation, when we received a letter from Herr Hofrath
+Heuschrecke, our professor's chief associate, offering us the requisite
+documents for a biography of Teufelsdr�ckh. This was the origin of our
+"Sartor Resartus," now presented in the vehicle of "Frazer's Magazine."
+
+Professor Teufelsdr�ckh, when we knew him at Weissnichtwo, lived a
+still and self-contained life, devoted to the higher philosophies and
+to a certain speculative radicalism. The last words that he spoke in
+our hearing were to propose a toast in the coffee-house--"The cause of
+the poor, in heaven's name and the devil's." But we looked for nothing
+moral from him, still less anything didactico-religious.
+
+Brave Teufelsdr�ckh, who could tell what lurked in thee? In thine eyes,
+deep under thy shaggy brows, and looking out so still and dreamy,
+have we not noticed gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire?
+Our friend's title was that of Professor of Things in General, but he
+never delivered any course. We used to sit with him in his attic,
+overlooking the town; he would contemplate that wasp-nest or bee-hive
+spread out below him, and utter the strangest thoughts. "That living
+flood, pouring through these streets, is coming from eternity, going
+onward to eternity. These are apparitions. What else?" Thus he lived
+and meditated with Heuschrecke as Boswell for his Johnson.
+
+"As Montesquieu wrote a 'Spirit of Laws,'" observes our professor, "so
+could I write a 'Spirit of Clothes,' for neither in tailoring nor in
+legislating does man proceed by mere accident, but the hand is ever
+guided by the mysterious operations of the mind." And so he deals with
+Paradise and fig-leaves, and proceeds to view the costumes of all
+mankind, in all countries, in all times.
+
+The first purpose of clothes, he imagines, was not warmth or decency,
+but ornament. "Yet what have they not become? Increased security
+and pleasurable heat soon followed; divine shame or modesty, as yet
+a stranger to the anthropophagous bosom, arose there mysteriously
+under clothes, a mystic shrine for the holy in man. Clothes gave us
+individuality, distinctions, social polity; clothes have made men of
+us; they are threatening to make clothes-screens of us."
+
+Teufelsdr�ckh dwells chiefly on the seams, tatters, and unsightly
+wrong-side of clothes, but he has also a superlative transcendentalism.
+To him, man is a soul, a spirit, and divine apparition, whose flesh
+and senses are but a garment. He deals much in the feeling of wonder,
+insisting that wonder is the only reasonable temper for the denizen
+of our planet. "Wonder," he says, "is the basis of worship," and
+that progress of science, which is to destroy wonder and substitute
+mensuration and numeration, finds small favour with him. "Clothes,
+despicable as we think them, are unspeakably significant."
+
+
+_II.--Biography of Teufelsdr�ckh_
+
+So far as we can gather from the disordered papers which have been
+placed in our hands, the genesis of Diogenes Teufelsdr�ckh is obscure.
+We see nothing but an exodus out of invisibility into visibility.
+In the village of Entepfuhl we find a childless couple, verging on
+old age. Andreas Futteral, who has been a grenadier sergeant under
+Frederick the Great, is now cultivating a little orchard. To him and
+Gretchen his wife there entered one evening a stranger of reverend
+aspect, who deposited a silk-covered basket, saying, "Good people, here
+is an invaluable loan; take all heed thereof; with high recompense, or
+else with heavy penalty, will it one day be required back." Therein
+they found, as soon as he had departed, a little infant in the softest
+sleep. Our philosopher tells us that this story, told him in his
+twelfth year, produced a quite indelible impression. Who was his
+unknown father, whom he was never able to meet?
+
+We receive glimpses of his childhood, schooldays, and university life,
+and then meet with him in that difficulty, common to young men, of
+"getting under way." "Not what I have," he says, "but what I do, is my
+kingdom; and we should grope throughout our lives from one expectation
+and disappointment to another were we not saved by one thing--our
+hunger." He had thrown up his legal profession, and found himself
+without landmark of outward guidance; whereby his previous want of
+decided belief, or inward guidance, is frightfully aggravated. So he
+sets out over an unknown sea; but a certain Calypso Island at the very
+outset falsifies his whole reckoning.
+
+"Nowhere," he says, "does Heaven so immediately reveal itself to the
+young man as in the young maiden. The feeling of our young forlorn
+towards the queens of this earth was, and indeed is, altogether
+unspeakable. A visible divinity dwelt in them; to our young friend all
+women were holy, were heavenly. And if, on a soul so circumstanced,
+some actual air-maiden should cast kind eyes, saying thereby, 'Thou
+too mayest love and be loved,' and so kindle him--good Heaven, what an
+all-consuming fire were probably kindled!"
+
+Such a fire of romance did actually burst forth in Herr Diogenes.
+We know not who "Blumine" was, nor how they met. She was young,
+hazel-eyed, beautiful, high-born, and of high spirit, but unhappily
+dependent and insolvent, living perhaps on the bounty of moneyed
+relatives. "To our friend the hours seemed moments; holy was he and
+happy; the words from those sweetest lips came over him like dew on
+thirsty grass. At parting, the Blumine's hand was in his; in the balmy
+twilight, with the kind stars above them, he spoke something of meeting
+again, which was not contradicted; he pressed gently those soft,
+small fingers, and it seemed as if they were not hastily, not angrily
+withdrawn."
+
+Poor Teufelsdr�ckh, it is clear to demonstration thou art smit!
+Flame-clad, thou art scaling the upper Heaven, and verging towards
+insanity, for prize of a high-souled brunette, as if the earth held but
+one and not several of these! "One morning, he found his morning-star
+all dimmed and dusky-red; doomsday had dawned; they were to meet no
+more!" Their lips were joined for the first time and the last, and
+Teufelsdr�ckh was made immortal by a kiss. And then--"thick curtains
+of night rushed over his soul, and he fell, through the ruins as of a
+shivered universe, towards the abyss."
+
+He quietly lifts his pilgrim-staff, and begins a perambulation and
+circumambulation of the terraqueous globe. We find him in Paris, in
+Vienna, in Tartary, in the Sahara, flying with hunger always parallel
+to him, and a whole infernal chase in his rear. He traverses mountains
+and valleys with aimless speed, writing with footprints his sorrows,
+that his spirit may free herself, and he become a man. Vain truly
+is the hope of your swiftest runner to escape from his own shadow!
+We behold him, through these dim years, in a state of crisis, of
+transition; his aimless pilgrimings are but a mad fermentation,
+wherefrom, the fiercer it is, the clearer product will one day evolve
+itself.
+
+Man has no other possession but hope; this world of his is emphatically
+the "Place of Hope"; yet our professor, for the present, is quite shut
+out from hope. As he wanders wearisomely through this world he has
+now lost all tidings of another and higher. "Doubt," says he, "had
+darkened into unbelief." It is all a grim desert, this once fair world
+of his; and no pillar of cloud by day, and no pillar of fire by night,
+any longer guides the pilgrim. "Invisible yet impenetrable walls, as
+of enchantment, divided me from all living; was there, in the wide
+world, any true bosom I could press trustfully to mine? O Heaven, no,
+there was none! To me the universe was all void of life, of purpose,
+of volition, even of hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable
+steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb
+from limb. O, the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and mill of death!
+
+"Full of such humour, and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole
+French capital or suburbs, was I, one sultry dog-day, after much
+perambulation, toiling along the dirty little Rue Saint Thomas de
+l'Enfer, among civic rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over
+pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar's furnace; whereby doubtless my spirits
+were a little cheered; when, all at once, there rose a thought in
+me, and I asked myself, 'What _art_ thou afraid of? Wherefore, like
+a coward, dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering and
+trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that
+lies before thee? Death? Well, death; and say the pangs of Tophet too,
+and all that the devil and man may, will, or can do against thee! Hast
+thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatever it be; and, as a
+child of freedom, though outcast, trample Tophet itself under thy feet,
+while it consumes thee? Let it come, then; I will meet it and defy it!'
+And, as I so thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole
+soul; and I shook base fear away from me for ever. Ever from that time,
+the temper of my misery was changed; not fear or whining sorrow was it,
+but indignation and grim fire-eyed defiance.
+
+"Thus had the _Everlasting No_ pealed authoritatively through all the
+recesses of my being, of my _Me_; and then was it that my whole _Me_
+stood up, in native God-created majesty, and with emphasis recorded its
+protest. The Everlasting No had said, 'Behold, thou art fatherless,
+outcast, and the universe is mine, the devil's'; to which my whole _Me_
+now made answer, 'I am not thine, but free, and for ever hate thee!'
+
+"It is from this hour that I incline to date my spiritual new-birth,
+or Baphometic Fire-baptism; perhaps I directly thereupon began to be a
+man."
+
+Our wanderer's unrest was for a time but increased. "Indignation and
+defiance are not the most peaceable inmates," yet it was no longer
+a quite hopeless unrest. He looked away from his own sorrows, over
+the many-coloured world, and few periods of his life were richer in
+spiritual culture than this. He had reached the Centre of Indifference
+wherein he had accepted his own nothingness. "I renounced utterly, I
+would hope no more and fear no more. To die or to live was to me alike
+insignificant. Here, then, as I lay in that Centre of Indifference,
+cast by benignant upper influence into a healing sleep, the heavy
+dreams rolled gradually away, and I awoke to a new heaven and a new
+earth. I saw that man can do without happiness and instead thereof find
+blessedness. Love not pleasure; love God. This is the _Everlasting
+Yea_, wherein all contradiction is solved; wherein whoso walks and
+works, it is well with him. In this poor, miserable, hampered,
+despicable Actual, wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere is
+thy Ideal; work it out therefrom; and working, believe, live, be free!
+Produce! produce! Work while it is called to-day."
+
+
+_III.--The Volume on Clothes_
+
+In so capricious a work as this of the professor's, our course
+cannot be straightforward, but only leap by leap, noting significant
+indications here and there. Thus, "perhaps the most remarkable incident
+in modern history," he says, "is George Fox's making to himself a suit
+of leather, when, desiring meditation and devout prayer to God, he
+took to the woods, chose the hollow of a tree for his lodging and wild
+berries for his food, and for clothes stitched himself one perennial
+suit of leather. Then was there in broad Europe one free man, and Fox
+was he!"
+
+Under the title "Church-Clothes," by which Teufelsdr�ckh signifies the
+forms, the vestures, under which men have at various periods embodied
+and represented for themselves the religious principle, he says, "These
+are unspeakably the most important of all the vestures and garnitures
+of human existence. Church-clothes are first spun and woven by society;
+outward religion originates by society; society becomes possible by
+religion."
+
+Of "symbols," as means of concealment and yet of revelation, thus
+uniting in themselves the efficacies at once of speech and of silence,
+our professor writes, "In the symbol proper there is ever, more or
+less distinctly and directly, some embodiment and revelation of the
+Infinite; the Infinite is made to blend itself with the finite; to
+stand visible, and, as it were, attainable there. Of this sort are all
+true works of art; in them, if thou know a work of art from a daub of
+artifice, wilt thou discern eternity looking through time; the God-like
+rendered visible. But nobler than all in this kind are the lives of
+heroic God-inspired men, for what other work of art is so divine?" And
+again, "Of this be certain, wouldst thou plant for eternity, then plant
+into the deep infinite faculties of man, his fantasy and heart; wouldst
+thou plant for year and day, then plant into his shallow superficial
+faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding."
+
+As for Helotage, or that lot of the poor wherein no ray of heavenly nor
+even of earthly knowledge visits him, Teufelsdr�ckh says, "That there
+should one man die ignorant who had capacity for knowledge, this I call
+a tragedy, were it to happen more than twenty times in the minute."
+
+In another place, our professor meditates upon the awful procession of
+mankind. "Like a God-created, fire-breathing spirit-host, we emerge
+from the inane; haste stormfully across the astonished earth; then
+plunge again into the inane. But whence?--O Heaven, whither? Sense
+knows not; Faith knows not; only that it is through mystery to mystery,
+from God and to God.
+
+   "We are such stuff
+    As dreams are made of, and our little life
+    Is rounded with a sleep!"
+
+
+
+
+MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
+
+Concerning Friendship
+
+  The dialogue "Concerning Friendship" was composed immediately
+  after the assassination of Julius C�sar, and was suggested by the
+  conduct of certain friends of the mighty dead, who were trying,
+  in the name of friendship, to inflame the populace against the
+  cause of the conspirators. (Cicero biography, see Vol. IX, p.
+  155, and also p. 274 of the present volume.)
+
+
+_A Dialogue_
+
+FANNIUS: I agree with you, L�lius; never was man better known for
+justice or for glory than Scipio Africanus. That is why everyone in
+Rome is looking to you; everyone is asking me, and Sc�vola here, how
+the wise L�lius is bearing the loss of his dead friend. For they call
+you wise, you know, in the same sense as the oracle called Socrates
+wise, because you believe that your happiness depends on yourself
+alone, and that virtue can fortify the soul against every calamity. May
+we know, then, how you bear your sorrow?
+
+SC�VOLA: He says truly; many have asked me the same question. I tell
+them that you are composed and patient, though deeply touched by the
+death of your dearest friend, and one of the greatest of men.
+
+L�LIUS: You have answered well. True it is that I sorrow for a friend
+whose like I shall never see again; but it is also true that I need
+no consolations, since I believe that no evil has befallen Scipio.
+Whatever misfortune there is, is my misfortune, and any immoderate
+distress would show self-love, not love for him. What a man he was!
+Well, he is in heaven; and I sometimes hope that the friendship of
+Scipio and L�lius may live in human memory.
+
+FANNIUS: Yes--your friendship: what do you believe about friendship?
+
+SC�VOLA: That's what we want to know.
+
+L�LIUS: Who am I, to speak on such a subject all on a sudden? You
+should go to these Greek professionals, who can spin you a discourse
+on anything at a moment's notice. For my part, I can only advise
+this--prize friendship above all earthly things. We seem to be made
+for friendship; it is our great stand-by whether in weal or woe. Yet
+I can say this too: friendship cannot be except among the good. I
+don't mean a fantastical and unattainable pitch of goodness such as
+the philosophers prate about; I mean the genuine, commonplace goodness
+of flesh and blood, that actually exists. I mean such men as live in
+honour, justice, and liberality, and are consistent, and are neither
+covetous nor licentious, nor brazen-faced; such men are good enough for
+us, because they follow Nature as far as they can.
+
+Friendship consists of a perfect conformity of opinion upon all
+subjects, divine and human, together with a feeling of kindness and
+attachment. And though some prefer riches, health, power, honours,
+or even pleasure, no greater boon than friendship, with the single
+exception of wisdom, has been given by the gods to man. It is quite
+true that our highest good depends on virtue; but virtue inevitably
+begets and nourishes friendship. What a part, for instance, friendship
+has played in the lives of the good men we have known--the Catos, the
+Galli, the Scipios, and the like!
+
+How manifold, again, are its benefits! What greater delight is there
+than to have one with whom you may talk as if with yourself? One who
+will joy in your good fortune, and bear the heaviest end of your
+burdens! Other things are good for particular purposes, friendship
+for all; neither water nor fire has so many uses. But in one respect
+friendship transcends everything else: it throws a brilliant gleam of
+hope over the future, and banishes despondency. Whoever has a true
+friend sees in him a reflection of himself; and each is strong in the
+strength and rich in the wealth of the other.
+
+If you consider that the principle of harmony and benevolence is
+necessary to the very existence of families and states, you will
+understand how high a thing is friendship, in which that harmony and
+benevolence reach their perfect flower. There was a philosopher of
+Agrigentum who explained the properties of matter and the movements of
+bodies in terms of affection and repulsion; and however that may be,
+everyone knows that these are the real forces in human life. Who does
+not applaud the friendship that shares in mortal dangers, whether in
+real life or in the play?
+
+SC�VOLA: You speak highly of friendship. What are its principles and
+duties?
+
+L�LIUS: Do we desire a friend because of our own weakness and
+deficiency, in order that we may obtain from him what we lack
+ourselves, repaying him by reciprocal service? Or is all that only an
+incident of friendship, and does the bond derive from a remoter and
+more beautiful origin, in the heart of Nature herself? For my part,
+I take the latter view. Friendship is a natural emotion, and not an
+arrangement of convenience. Its character may be recognised even in
+the lower animals, and much more plainly in the love of human parents
+for their children, and, most of all, in our affection for a congenial
+friend, whom we see in an atmosphere of virtue and worth.
+
+The other is not an ignoble theory, but it leaves us in the difficulty
+that if it were true, the weakest, meanest, and poorest of humanity
+would be the most inclined to friendship. But it is the strong, rich,
+independent, and self-reliant man, deeply founded in wisdom and
+dignity, who makes great friendships. What did Africanus need of me, or
+I of him? Advantages followed, but they did not lead. But there are
+people who will always be referring everything to the one principle of
+self-advantage; they have no eyes for anything great and god-like. Let
+us leave such theorists alone; the plain fact is, that whenever worth
+is seen, love for it is enkindled. Associations founded upon interest
+presently dissolve, because interest changes; but Nature never changes,
+and therefore true friendships are imperishable.
+
+Scipio used to say that it was exceedingly difficult to carry on a
+friendship to the end of life, because the paths of interest so often
+diverge. There may be competition for office, or a dishonorable request
+may be refused, or some other accident may be fatal to the bond. This
+refusal to join in a nefarious course of action is often the end of a
+friendship, and it is worth inquiring how far the claims of affection
+ought to extend. Tiberius Gracchus, when he troubled the state, was
+deserted by almost all his friends; one of them who had assisted him
+told me that he had such high regard for Gracchus that he could refuse
+him nothing. "But what," said I, "if he had asked you to set fire to
+the capitol?" "I would have done it!"
+
+What an infamous confession! No degree of friendship can justify
+a crime; and since virtue is the foundation of friendship, crime
+must inevitably undermine it. Let this, then, be the rule of
+friendship--never to make disgraceful requests, and never to grant them
+when they are made.
+
+Among the perverse, over-subtle ideas of certain Greek philosophers is
+the maxim that we should be very cool in the matter of friendship. They
+say that we have enough to do with our own affairs, without taking on
+other people's affairs too; and that our minds cannot be serenely at
+leisure if we are liable to be tortured by the sorrows of a friend.
+They advise, also, that friendships should be sought for the sake of
+protection, and not for the sake of kindliness. O noble philosophy!
+They put out the sun in the heavens, and offer us instead a freedom
+from care that is worse than worthless. Virtue has not a heart of
+stone, but is gentle and compassionate, rejoicing with the joyful and
+weeping with those who mourn. True virtue is never unsocial, never
+haughty.
+
+With regard to the limits of friendship, I have heard three several
+maxims, but disapprove them all. First, that we ought to feel towards
+our friend exactly as we feel towards ourselves. That would never
+do; for we do many things for our friends that we should never think
+of doing for ourselves. We ask favours and reprehend injuries for a
+friend, where we would not solicit for, or defend, ourselves. Secondly,
+that our kindness to a friend should be meted out in precise equipoise
+to his kindness to us. This is too miserable a theory: friendship
+is opulent and generous. The third is, that we should take our
+friend's own estimate of himself, and act upon it. This is the worst
+principle of the three; for if our friend is over-humble, diffident or
+despondent, it is the very business of friendship to cheer him and urge
+him on. But Scipio used to condemn yet another principle that is worse
+still. Some one--he thought it must have been a bad man--once said that
+we ought to remember in friendship that some day the friend might be an
+enemy. How, in that state of mind, could one be a friend at all?
+
+A sound principle, I think, is this. In the friendship of upright men
+there ought to be an unrestricted communication of every interest,
+every purpose, every inclination. Then, in any matter of importance
+to the life or reputation of your friend, you may deviate a little
+from the strictest line of conduct so long as you do not do anything
+that is actually infamous. Then, with regard to the choice of friends,
+Scipio used to say that men were more careful about their sheep and
+goats than about their friends. Choose men of constancy, solidity, and
+firmness; and until their trustworthiness has been tested, be moderate
+in your affection and confidence. Seek first of all for sincerity. Your
+friend should also have an open, genial, and sociable temper, and his
+sympathies should be the same as yours. He must not be ready to believe
+accusations. Lastly, his talk and manner should be debonair; we don't
+want austerities and solemnities in friendship.
+
+I have heard it suggested that we ought perhaps to prefer new friends
+to old, as we prefer a young horse to an old one. Satiety should have
+no place in friendship. Old wines are the best, and so are the friends
+of many years. Do not despise the acquaintance that promises to ripen
+into something better; but do not sacrifice for it the deeply rooted
+intimacy. Even inanimate things take hold of our hearts by long custom;
+we love the mountains and forests of our youth.
+
+There is often a great disparity in respect of rank or talent between
+intimate friends. Whenever that is so, let the superior place himself
+on the level of the inferior; let him share all his advantages with his
+friend. The best way to reap the full harvest of genius, or of merit,
+or of any other excellence, is to encourage all one's kindred and
+associates to enjoy it too. But if the superior ought to condescend to
+the inferior, so the inferior ought to be free from envy. And let him
+not make a fuss about such services as he has been able to render.
+
+To pass from the noble friendships of the wise to more commonplace
+intimacies, we cannot leave out of account the necessity that sometimes
+arises of breaking off a friendship. A man falls into scandalous
+courses, his disgrace is reflected on his companions, and their
+relation must come to an end. Well, the end had best come gradually and
+gently, unless the offence is so detestable that an abrupt and final
+cutting of the acquaintance is absolutely inevitable. Disengage, if
+possible, rather than cut. And let the matter end with estrangement;
+let it not proceed to active animosity and hostility. It is very
+unbecoming to engage in public war with a man who has been known as
+one's friend. On two separate occasions Scipio thought it right to
+withdraw his confidence from certain friends. In each case he kept his
+dignity and self-command; he was grieved, but never bitter. Of course,
+the best way to guard against such unfortunate occurrences is to take
+the greatest care in forming friendships. All excellence is rare, and
+that moral excellence which makes fit objects for friendship is as rare
+as any.
+
+On the other hand, it would be unreasonable and presumptuous in anyone
+to expect to find a friend of a quality to which he himself can never
+hope to attain, or to demand from his friend an indulgence which he
+is not prepared himself to offer. Friendship was given us to be an
+incentive to virtue, and not as an indulgence to vice or to mediocrity;
+in order that, since a solitary virtue cannot scale the peaks, it may
+do so with the loyal help of a comrade. A comradeship of this kind
+includes within it all that men most desire.
+
+Think nobly of friendship, and conduct yourselves wisely in it, for in
+one way or another it enters into the life of every man. Even Timon of
+Athens, whose one impulse was a brutal misanthropy, must needs seek a
+confidant into whose mind he may instil his detestable venom. I have
+heard, and I agree with it, that though a man should contemplate from
+the heavens the universal beauty of creation, he would soon weary of it
+without a companion for his admiration.
+
+Of course, there are rubs in friendship which a sensible man will learn
+to avoid, or to ignore, or to bear them cheerfully. Admonitions and
+reproofs must have their part in true amity, and it is as difficult
+to utter them tactfully as it is to receive them in good part.
+Complaisance seems more propitious to friendship than are these naked
+truths. But though truth may be painful, complaisance is more likely
+in the long run to prove disastrous. It is no kindness to allow a
+friend to rush headlong to ruin. Let your remonstrances be free from
+bitterness and from insult; let your complaisance be affable, but never
+servile. As for adulation, there are no words bad enough for it. Even
+the populace have only contempt for the politician who flatters them.
+Despise the insinuations of the sycophant, for what is more shameful
+than to be made a fool of?
+
+I tell you, sirs, that it is virtue that lasts; that begets real
+friendships and maintains them. Lay, therefore, while you are young,
+the foundations of a virtuous life.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM COBBETT
+
+Advice to Young Men
+
+  William Cobbett, the celebrated English political writer, was
+  born in March, 1762, at Farnham in Surrey. He took a dislike to
+  rural occupations, and at an early age went to London, where
+  he was employed for a few months as a copying clerk. This work
+  was distasteful to him, and he enlisted in the army, and went
+  with his regiment to Nova Scotia. On returning to England in
+  1791, he obtained his discharge, married, and went to America.
+  In Philadelphia he commenced his career as a political writer.
+  Cobbett's "Advice to Young Men" was published in 1830. It has
+  always been the most popular of his books, partly because of
+  its subject, and partly because it illustrates so well the bold
+  and forceful directness of his style. An intensely egotistical
+  and confident man, Cobbett believed that his own strangely
+  inconsistent life was a model for all men. Yet, contrary to what
+  might have been expected, he was a delightful man in the domestic
+  circle, and the story of his marriage--which has been narrated
+  in his "Rural Rides"--is one of the romances of literary life.
+  The original introduction to the "Advice" contained personal
+  reference incredible in anyone except Cobbett. Said he, "Few will
+  be disposed to question my fitness for the task. If such a man be
+  not qualified to give advice, no man is qualified." And he went
+  on to claim for himself "genius and something more." He certainly
+  had a remarkable fund of commonsense, except when his subject was
+  himself. Cobbett died June 18, 1835.
+
+
+_I.--To a Youth_
+
+You are arrived, let us suppose, at the age of from fourteen to nearly
+twenty, and I here offer you my advice towards making you a happy man,
+useful to all about you, and an honour to those from whom you sprang.
+Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly fixed in your mind that
+you have no right to live in this world without doing work of some sort
+or other. To wish to live on the labour of others is to contemplate a
+fraud.
+
+Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is to be found only in
+independence. Turn your back on what is called interest. Write it on
+your heart that you will depend solely on your own merit and your own
+exertions, for that which a man owes to favour or to partiality, that
+same favour or partiality is constantly liable to take from him.
+
+The great source of independence the French express in three words,
+"_Vivre de peu_." "To live upon little" is the great security against
+slavery; and this precept extends to dress and other things besides
+food and drink. Extravagance in dress arises from the notion that all
+the people in the street will be looking at you as you walk out; but
+all the sensible people that happen to see you will think nothing at
+all about you. Natural beauty of person always will and must have some
+weight, even with men, and great weight with women; but this does not
+want to be set off by expensive clothes.
+
+A love of what is called "good eating and drinking," if very unamiable
+in a grown-up person, is perfectly hateful in a youth. I have never
+known such a man worthy of respect.
+
+Next, as to amusements. Dancing is at once rational and healthful;
+it is the natural amusement of young people, and none but the most
+grovelling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and despicable
+fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. As to gaming, it is
+always criminal, either in itself or in its tendency. The basis of it
+is covetousness; a desire to take from others something for which you
+have given, and intend to give, no equivalent.
+
+Be careful in choosing your companions; and lay down as a rule never to
+be departed from that no youth or man ought to be called your friend
+who is addicted to indecent talk.
+
+In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt, but even these are
+preferable to simpering and crawling. Be obedient where obedience is
+due; for it is no act of meanness to yield implicit and ready obedience
+to those who have a right to demand it at your hands. None are so saucy
+and disobedient as slaves; and, when you come to read history, you
+will find that in proportion as nations have been free has been their
+reverence for the laws.
+
+Let me now turn to the things which you ought to do. And, first of
+all, the husbanding of your time. Young people require more sleep than
+those that are grown up, and the number of hours cannot well be, on an
+average, less than eight. An hour in bed is better than an hours spent
+over the fire in an idle gossip.
+
+Money is said to be power; but superior sobriety, industry, and
+activity are still a more certain source of power. Booklearning is not
+only proper, but highly commendable; and portions of it are absolutely
+necessary in every case of trade or profession. One of these portions
+is distinct reading, plain and neat writing, and arithmetic. The
+next thing is the grammar of your own language, for grammar is the
+foundation of all literature. Excellence in your own calling is the
+first thing to be aimed at. After this may come general knowledge.
+Geography naturally follows grammar; and you should begin with that of
+this kingdom. When you come to history, begin also with that of your
+own country; and here it is my bounded duty to put you well on your
+guard. The works of our historians are, as far as they relate to former
+times, masses of lies unmatched by any others that the world has ever
+seen.
+
+
+_II.--To a Young Man_
+
+To be poor and independent is very nearly an impossibility; though
+poverty is, except where there is an actual want of food and raiment,
+a thing much more imaginary than real. Resolve to set this false shame
+of being poor at defiance. Nevertheless, men ought to take care of
+their names, ought to use them prudently and sparingly, and to keep
+their expenses always within the bounds of their income, be it what it
+may.
+
+One of the effectual means of doing this is to purchase with ready
+money. Innumerable things are not bought at all with ready money which
+would be bought in case of trust; it is so much easier to order a thing
+than to pay for it. I believe that, generally speaking, you pay for the
+same article a fourth part more in the case of trust than you do in the
+case of ready money. The purchasing with ready money really means that
+you have more money to purchase with.
+
+A great evil arising from the desire not to be thought poor is the
+destructive thing honoured by the name of "speculation," but which
+ought to be called gambling. It is a purchasing of something to be sold
+again with a great profit at a considerable hazard. Your life, while
+you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester: a life of general
+gloom, enlivened now and then by a gleam of hope or of success.
+
+In all situations of life avoid the trammels of the law. If you win
+your suit and are poorer than you were before, what do you accomplish?
+Better to put up with the loss of one pound than with two, with all the
+loss of time and all the mortification and anxiety attending a law suit.
+
+Unless your business or your profession be duly attended to there can
+be no real pleasure in any other employment of a portion of your time.
+Men, however, must have some leisure, some relaxation from business;
+and in the choice of this relaxation much of your happiness will depend.
+
+Where fields and gardens are at hand, they present the most rational
+scenes for leisure. Nothing can be more stupid than sitting,
+sotting over a pot and a glass, sending out smoke from the head, and
+articulating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things.
+
+Another mode of spending the leisure time is that of books. To come at
+the true history of a country you must read its laws; you must read
+books treating of its usages and customs in former times; and you must
+particularly inform yourselves as to prices of labour and of food. But
+there is one thing always to be guarded against, and that is not to
+admire and applaud anything you read merely because it is the fashion
+to admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what you read, form your
+own judgments, and stand by that judgment until fact or argument be
+offered to convince you of your error.
+
+
+_III.--To a Lover_
+
+There are two descriptions of lovers on whom all advice would be
+wasted, namely, those in whose minds passion so wholly overpowers
+reason as to deprive the party of his sober senses, and those who love
+according to the rules of arithmetic, or measure their matrimonial
+expectations by the claim of the land-surveyor.
+
+I address myself to the reader whom I suppose to be a real lover, but
+not so smitten as to be bereft of reason. You should never forget that
+marriage is a thing to last for life, and that, generally speaking, it
+is to make life happy or miserable.
+
+The things which you ought to desire in a wife are chastity, sobriety,
+industry, frugality, cleanliness, knowledge of domestic affairs, good
+temper and beauty.
+
+Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even thought, is so
+essential that without it no female is fit to be a wife. If prudery
+mean false modesty, it is to be despised; but if it mean modesty pushed
+to the utmost extent, I confess that I like it. The very elements of
+jealousy ought to be avoided, and the only safeguard is to begin well
+and so render infidelity and jealousy next to impossible.
+
+By sobriety I mean sobriety of conduct. When girls arrive at that
+age which turns their thoughts towards the command of a house it
+is time for them to cast away the levity of a child. Sobriety is a
+title to trustworthiness, and that is a treasure to prize above all
+others. But in order to possess this precious trustworthiness you must
+exercise your reason in the choice of a partner. If she be vain, fond
+of flattery, given to gadding about, coquettish, she will never be
+trustworthy, and you will be unjust if you expect it at her hands. But
+if you find in her that innate sobriety of which I have been speaking,
+there requires on your part confidence and trust without any limit.
+
+An ardent-minded young man may fear that sobriety of conduct in a young
+woman argues a want of warmth; but my observation and experience tell
+me that levity, not sobriety, is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred,
+the companion of a want of ardent feeling.
+
+There is no state in life in which industry in the wife is not
+necessary to the happiness and prosperity of the family. If she be lazy
+there will always be a heavy arrear of things unperformed, and this,
+even among the wealthy, is a great curse. But who is to tell whether a
+girl will make an industrious woman? There are certain outward signs,
+which, if attended to with care, will serve as pretty sure guides.
+
+If you find the tongue lazy you may be nearly certain that the hands
+and feet are the same. The pronunciation of an industrious person is
+generally quick, distinct, and firm. Another mark of industry is a
+quick step and a tread showing that the foot comes down with a hearty
+good will.
+
+Early rising is another mark of industry. It is, I should imagine,
+pretty difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the
+dew, never beholds the rising sun.
+
+Frugality. This means the contrary of extravagance. It does not mean
+stinginess; it means an abstaining from all unnecessary expenditure.
+The outward and vulgar signs of extravagance are all the hardware
+which women put upon their persons. The girl who has not the sense to
+perceive that her person is disfigured, and not beautified by parcels
+of brass, tin, and other hardware stuck about her body, is too great a
+fool to be trusted with the purse of any man.
+
+Cleanliness is a capital ingredient. Occasional cleanliness is not the
+thing that an English or American husband wants; he wants it always. A
+sloven in one thing is a sloven in all things. Make up your mind to a
+rope rather than to live with a slip-shod wife.
+
+Knowledge of domestic affairs is so necessary in every wife that
+the lover ought to have it continually in his eye. A wife must not
+only know how things ought to be done, but how to do them. I cannot
+form an idea of a more unfortunate being than a girl with a mere
+boarding-school education and without a future to enable her to keep a
+servant when married. Of what use are her accomplishments?
+
+Good temper is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand--smiles
+are so cheap. By "good temper" I do not mean easy temper--a serenity
+which nothing disturbs is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, querulousness,
+cold indifference, pertinacity in having the last word, are bad things
+in a young woman, but of all the faults of temper your melancholy
+ladies are the worst. Most wives are at times misery-makers, but the
+melancholy carry it on as a regular trade.
+
+The great use of female beauty is that it naturally tends to keep the
+husband in good humour with himself, to make him pleased with his
+bargain.
+
+As to constancy in lovers, even when marriage has been promised, and
+that, too, in the most solemn manner, it is better for both parties
+to break off than to be coupled together with the reluctant assent of
+either.
+
+
+_IV.--To a Husband_
+
+It is as a husband that your conduct will have the greatest effect on
+your happiness. All in a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and
+education, is, nine times out of ten, the work of her husband.
+
+First convince her of the necessity of moderation in expense; make her
+clearly see the justice of beginning to act upon the presumption that
+there are children coming. The great danger of all is beginning with a
+servant. The wife is young, and why is she not to work as well as her
+husband? If the wife be not able to do all the work to be done in the
+house, she ought not to have been able to marry.
+
+The next thing to be attended to is your demeanour towards a young
+wife. The first frown that she receives from you is a dagger to her
+heart. Let nothing put you out of humour with her.
+
+Every husband who spends his leisure time in company other than that
+of his wife and family tells her and them that he takes more delight
+in other company than in theirs. Resolve from the very first never to
+spend an hour from home unless business or some necessary and rational
+purpose demand it. If you are called away your wife ought to be fully
+apprised of the probable duration of the absence and of the time of
+return. When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding
+day, how can a just man think anything a trifle that affects her
+happiness?
+
+Though these considerations may demand from us the kindest possible
+treatment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful deportment at
+her hands. A husband under command is the most contemptible of God's
+creatures. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recommending disregard of
+the wife's opinions and wishes? By no means. But the very nature of
+things prescribes that there must be a head of every house, and an
+undivided authority. The wife ought to be heard, and patiently heard;
+she ought to be reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced; but if she
+remain opposed to the husband's opinion, his will must be obeyed.
+
+I now come to that great bane of families--jealousy. One thing every
+husband can do in the way of prevention, and that is to give no
+ground for it. Few characters are more despicable than that of a
+jealous-headed husband, and that, not because he has grounds, but
+because he has not grounds.
+
+If to be happy in the married state requires these precautions, you may
+ask: Is it not better to remain single? The cares and troubles of the
+married life are many, but are those of the single life few? Without
+wives men are poor, helpless mortals.
+
+As to the expense, I firmly believe that a farmer married at
+twenty-five, and having ten children during the first ten years, would
+be able to save more money during these years than a bachelor of the
+same age would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like space of
+time. The bachelor has no one on whom he can in all cases rely. To me,
+no being in this world appears so wretched as he.
+
+
+_V.--To a Father_
+
+It is yourself that you see in your children. They are the great and
+unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of your prime of life,
+and the props of your old age. From the very beginning ensure in them,
+if possible, an ardent love for their mother. Your first duty towards
+them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life from any
+breast but hers. That is their own; it is their birthright.
+
+The man who is to gain a living by his labour must be drawn away from
+home; but this will not, if he be made of good stuff, prevent him from
+doing his share of the duty due to his children. There ought to be no
+toils, no watchings, no breakings of rest, imposed by this duty, of
+which he ought not to perform his full share, and that, too, without
+grudging. The working man, in whatever line, and whether in town or
+country, who spends his day of rest away from his wife and children is
+not worthy of the name of father.
+
+The first thing in the rearing of children who have passed from the
+baby state is, as to the body, plenty of good food; and, as to the
+mind, constant good example in the parents. There is no other reason
+for the people in the American states being generally so much taller
+and stronger than the people in England are, but that, from their
+birth, they have an abundance of good food; not only of food, but of
+rich food. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unimportant matter,
+for a tall man is worth more than a short man. Good food, and plenty of
+it, is not more necessary to the forming of a stout and able body than
+to the forming of an active and enterprising spirit. Children should
+eat often, and as much as they like at a time. They will never take, of
+plain food, more than it is good for them to take.
+
+The next thing after good and plentiful and plain food is good air.
+Besides sweet air, children want exercise. Even when they are babies in
+arms they want tossing and pulling about, and talking and singing to.
+They will, when they begin, take, if you let them alone, just as much
+exercise as nature bids them, and no more.
+
+I am of opinion that it is injurious to the mind to press book-learning
+upon a child at an early age. I must impress my opinion upon every
+father that his children's happiness ought to be his first object;
+that book-learning, if it tend to militate against this, ought to be
+disregarded. A man may read books for ever and be an ignorant creature
+at last, and even the more ignorant for his reading.
+
+And with regard to young women, everlasting book-reading is absolutely
+a vice. When they once get into the habit they neglect all other
+matters, and, in some cases, even their very dress. Attending to the
+affairs of the house--to the washing, the baking, the brewing, the
+cooking of victuals, the management of the poultry and the garden,
+these are their proper occupations.
+
+
+_VI.--To the Citizen_
+
+Having now given my advice to the youth, the man, the lover, the
+husband, and the father, I shall tender it to the citizen. To act well
+our part as citizens we ought clearly to understand what our rights
+are; for on our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights going
+before duties, as value received goes before payments. The great right
+of all is the right of taking a part in the making of the laws by which
+we are governed.
+
+It is the duty of every man to defend his country against an enemy, a
+duty imposed by the law of nature as well as by that of civil society.
+Yet how are you to maintain that this is the duty of every man if you
+deny to some men the enjoyment of a share in making the laws? The poor
+man has a body and a soul as well as the rich man; like the latter, he
+has parents, wife, and children; a bullet or a sword is as deadly to
+him as to the rich man; yet, notwithstanding this equality, he is to
+risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of
+rights! Why are the poor to risk their lives? To uphold the laws and
+to protect property--property of which they are said to possess none?
+What! compel men to come forth and risk their lives for the protection
+of property, and then in the same breath tell them that they are not
+allowed to share in the making of the laws, because, and only because,
+they have no property!
+
+Here, young man of sense and of spirit, here is the point on which you
+are to take your stand. There are always men enough to plead the cause
+of the rich, and to echo the woes of the fallen great; but be it your
+part to show compassion for those who labour, and to maintain their
+rights.
+
+If the right to have a share in making the laws were merely a feather,
+if it were a fanciful thing, if it were only a speculative theory, if
+it were but an abstract principle, it might be considered as of little
+importance. But it is none of these; it is a practical matter. Who lets
+another man put his hand into his purse when he pleases? It is the
+first duty of every man to do all in his power to maintain this right
+of self-government where it exists, and to restore it where it has been
+lost. Men are in such a case labouring, not for the present day only,
+but for ages to come. If life should not allow them time to see their
+endeavours crowned, their children will see it.
+
+
+
+
+DANIEL DEFOE
+
+A Journal of the Plague Year
+
+  "A Journal of the Plague Year" appeared in 1722. In its second
+  edition it received the title of "A History of the Plague." This
+  book was suggested by the public anxiety caused by a fearful
+  visitation of the plague at Marseilles in the two preceding
+  years. As an account of the epidemic in London, it has all the
+  vividness of Defoe's fiction, while it is acknowledged to be
+  historically accurate. (Defoe biography, see Vol. III, p. 26.)
+
+
+_I.--A Stricken City_
+
+It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest
+of my neighbours, heard that the plague was returned again in Holland.
+We had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days to spread
+rumours and reports of things; but such things as these were gathered
+from the letters of merchants, and from them were handed about by word
+of mouth only. In December, two Frenchmen died of the plague in Long
+Acre, or, rather, at the upper end of Drury Lane. The secretaries
+of state got knowledge of it, and two physicians and a surgeon were
+ordered to go to the house and make inspection. This they did, and,
+finding evident tokens of the sickness upon both the bodies, they gave
+their opinions publicly, that they died of the plague; whereupon it was
+given in to the parish clerk, and he also returned them to the Hall;
+and it was printed in the weekly bill of mortality in the usual manner,
+thus:
+
+    Plague, 2; Parishes infected, 1.
+
+The distemper spread slowly, and in the beginning of May, the city
+being healthy, we began to hope that as the infection was chiefly among
+the people at the other end of the town, it might go no further. We
+continued in these hopes for a few days, but it was only for a few,
+for the people were no more to be deceived thus; they searched the
+houses, and found that the plague was really spread every way, and that
+many died of it every day; and accordingly, in the weekly bill for
+the next week, the thing began to show itself. There was, indeed, but
+fourteen set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and collusion.
+
+Now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in June the
+infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rose high. Yet all
+that could conceal their distempers did it to prevent their neighbours
+shunning them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses.
+
+I lived without Aldgate, midway between Aldgate church and Whitechapel
+Bars, and our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end
+of the town their consternation was very great, and the richer sort
+of people, especially the nobility and gentry, from the west part of
+the city, thronged out of town with their families and servants. In
+Whitechapel, where I lived, nothing was to be seen but waggons and
+carts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc., all hurrying away.
+This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and it filled me
+with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city.
+
+I now began to consider seriously how I should dispose of myself,
+whether I should resolve to stay in London, or shut up my house and
+flee. I had two important things before me: the carrying on of my
+business and shop, and the preservation of my life in so dismal a
+calamity. My trade was a saddler, and though a single man, I had a
+family of servants and a house and warehouses filled with goods, and to
+leave them all without any overseer had been to hazard the loss of all
+I had in the world.
+
+I had resolved to go; but, one way or other, I always found that to
+appoint to go away was always crossed by some accident or other, so as
+to disappoint and put it off again; and I advise every person, in such
+a case, to keep his eye upon the particular providences which occur
+at that time, and take them as intimations from Heaven of what is his
+unquestioned duty to do in such a case. Add to this, that, turning over
+the Bible which lay before me, I cried out, "Well, I know not what
+to do; Lord, direct me!" and at that juncture, casting my eye down,
+I read: "Thou shalt not be afraid for the pestilence that walketh in
+darkness.... A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy
+right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee." I scarce need tell the
+reader that from that moment I resolved that I would stay in the town,
+casting myself entirely upon the protection of the Almighty.
+
+The court removed in the month of June, and went to Oxford, where it
+pleased God to preserve them; for which I cannot say they showed any
+great token of thankfulness, and hardly anything of reformation, though
+they did not want being told that their crying voices might, without
+breach of charity, have gone far in bringing that terrible judgment
+upon the whole nation.
+
+A blazing star or comet had appeared for several months before the
+plague, and there had been universal melancholy apprehensions of some
+dreadful calamity. The people were at this time more addicted to
+prophecies, dreams, and old wives' fables, than ever they were before
+or since. Some ran about the streets with oral predictions, one crying,
+"Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed!" Another poor naked
+creature cried, "Oh, the great and dreadful God!" repeating these words
+continually, with voice and countenance full of horror, and a swift
+pace, and nobody could ever find him to stop. Some saw a flaming sword
+in a hand coming out of a cloud; others, hearses and coffins in the
+air; others, heaps of dead bodies unburied. But those who were really
+serious and religious applied themselves in a truly Christian manner to
+the proper work of repentance and humiliation. Many consciences were
+awakened, many hard hearts melted into tears. People might be heard in
+the streets as we passed along, calling upon God for mercy, and saying,
+"I have been a thief," or "a murderer," and the like; and none dared
+stop to make the least inquiry into such things, or to comfort the poor
+creatures that thus cried out. The face of London was now strangely
+altered; it was all in tears; the shrieks of women and children at the
+windows and doors, where their dearest relations were dead, were enough
+to pierce the stoutest heart.
+
+About June, the lord mayor and aldermen began more particularly to
+concern themselves for the regulation of the city, by the shutting up
+of houses. Examiners were appointed in every parish to order the house
+to be shut up wherever any person sick of the infection was found. A
+night watchman and a day watchman were appointed to each infected house
+to prevent any person from coming out or going into the same. Women
+searchers were appointed in each parish to examine the bodies of such
+as were dead, to see if they had died of the infection, and over these
+were appointed physicians and chirurgeons. Other orders were made with
+regard to giving notice of sickness, sequestration of the sick, airing
+the goods and bedding of the infected, burial of the dead, cleansing
+of the streets, forbidding wandering beggars, loose persons, and idle
+assemblages, and the like. One of these orders was--"That every house
+visited be marked with a red cross of a foot long, in the middle of the
+door, with these words, 'LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US,' to be set close over
+the same cross." Many got out of their houses by stratagem after they
+were shut up, and thus spread the plague; in one place they blowed up
+their watchman with gunpowder and burnt the poor fellow dreadfully, and
+while he made hideous cries, the whole family got out at the windows;
+others got out by bribing the watchman, and I have seen three watchmen
+publicly whipped through the streets for suffering people to go out.
+
+
+_II.--How the Dead Were Buried_
+
+I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, and
+when they dug the great pit in the churchyard of Aldgate I could not
+resist going to see it. A terrible pit it was, forty feet long, about
+sixteen wide, and in one part they dug it to near twenty feet deep,
+until they could go no deeper for the water. It was filled in just two
+weeks, when they had thrown into it 1,114 bodies from our own parish.
+
+I got admittance into the churchyard by the sexton, who at first
+refused me, but at last said: "Name of God, go in; depend upon it,
+'twill be a sermon to you, it may be the best that ever you heard. It
+is a speaking sight," says he; and with that he opened the door and
+said, "Go, if you will." I stood wavering for a good while, but just at
+that interval I saw two links come over from the end of the Minories,
+and heard the bellman, and then appeared a dead-cart coming over the
+streets, so I went in.
+
+The scene was awful and full of terror. The cart had in it sixteen or
+seventeen bodies; some were wrapped in sheets or rugs, some little
+other than naked, or so loose that what covering they had fell from
+them in the shooting out of the cart, and they fell quite naked among
+the rest. But the matter was not much to them, seeing they were all
+dead, and were to be huddled together into the common grave of mankind,
+as we may call it; for here was no difference made, but poor and rich
+went together. The cart was turned round, and the bodies shot into the
+pit promiscuously.
+
+There was following the cart a poor unhappy gentleman who fell down in
+a swoon when the bodies were shot into the pit. The buriers ran to him
+and took him up, and after he had come to himself, they led him away to
+the Pye tavern, over against the end of Houndsditch. His case lay so
+heavy on my mind that after I had gone home I must go out again into
+the street and go to the Pye tavern, to inquire what became of him.
+
+It was by this time one in the morning, and yet the poor gentleman was
+there. The people of the house were civil and obliging, but there was a
+dreadful set of fellows that used their house, and who, in the middle
+of all this horror, met there every night, and behaved with revelling
+and roaring extravagances, so that the master and mistress of the
+house were terrified at them. They sat in a room next the street, and
+as often as the dead-cart came along, they would open the windows and
+make impudent mocks and jeers at the sad lamentations of the people,
+especially if they heard the poor people call upon God to have mercy
+upon them.
+
+They were at this vile work when I came to the house, ridiculing the
+unfortunate man, and his sorrow for his wife and children, taunting him
+with want of courage to leap into the pit and go to Heaven with them,
+and adding profane and blasphemous expressions.
+
+I gently reproved them, being not unknown to two of them. But I cannot
+call to mind the abominable raillery which they returned to me, making
+a jest of my calling the plague the Hand of God. They continued this
+wretched course three or four days; but they were, every one of them,
+carried into the great pit before it was quite filled up.
+
+In my walks I had daily many dismal scenes before my eyes, as of
+persons falling dead in the streets, terrible shrieks and screechings
+of women, and the like. Passing through Tokenhouse Yard, in Lothbury,
+of a sudden a casement violently opened just over my head, and a woman
+gave three frightful screeches, and then cried: "Oh Death! Death!
+Death!" in a most inimitable tone, which struck me with horror and a
+chillness in my very blood. There was nobody to be seen in the whole
+street, neither did any other window open; for people had no curiosity
+now, nor could anybody help another. I went on into Bell Alley.
+
+Just in Bell Alley, at the right hand of the passage, there was a
+more terrible cry than that, and I could hear women and children run
+screaming about the rooms distracted. A garret window opened, and
+somebody from a window on the other side of the alley called and
+asked, "What is the matter?" upon which, from the first window it was
+answered: "O Lord, my old master has hanged himself!" The other asked
+again: "Is he quite dead?" And the first answered, "Ay, ay, quite
+dead--quite dead and cold."
+
+It is scarce credible what dreadful things happened every day, people
+in the rage of the distemper, or in the torment of their swellings,
+which was indeed intolerable, oftentimes laying violent hands on
+themselves, throwing themselves out at their windows, etc.; mothers
+murdering their own children in their lunacy; some dying of mere
+fright, without any infection; others frightened into despair, idiocy,
+or madness.
+
+There were a great many robberies and wicked practices committed even
+in this dreadful time. The power of avarice was so strong in some that
+they would run any hazard to steal and to plunder; and in houses where
+all the inhabitants had died and been carried out, they would break in
+without regard to the danger of infection, and take even the bedclothes.
+
+
+_III.--Universal Desolation_
+
+For about a month together, I believe there did not die less than 1,500
+or 1,700 a day, one day with another; and in the beginning of September
+good people began to think that God was resolved to make a full end of
+the people in this miserable city. Whole families, and, indeed, whole
+streets of families were swept away together, and the infection was so
+increased that at length they shut up no houses at all. People gave
+themselves up to their fears, and thought that nothing was to be hoped
+for but an universal desolation. It was even in the height of this
+despair that it pleased God to stay His hand, and to slacken the fury
+of the contagion.
+
+When the people despaired of life and abandoned themselves, it had a
+very strange effect for three or four weeks; it made them bold and
+venturous; they were no more shy of one another, nor restrained within
+doors, but went anywhere and everywhere, and ran desperately into
+any company. It brought them to crowd into the churches; looking on
+themselves as all so many dead corpses, they behaved as if their lives
+were of no consequence, compared to the work which they came about
+there.
+
+The conduct of the lord mayor and magistrates was all the time
+admirable, so that bread was always to be had in plenty, and cheap
+as usual; provisions were never wanting in the markets; the streets
+were kept free from all manner of frightful objects--dead bodies, or
+anything unpleasant; and for a time fires were kept burning in the
+streets to cleanse the air of infection.
+
+Many remedies were tried; but it is my opinion, and I must leave it as
+a prescription, that the best physic against the plague is to run away
+from it. I know people encourage themselves by saying, "God is able to
+keep us in the midst of danger," and this kept thousands in the town,
+whose carcasses went into the great pits by cart-loads. Yet of the
+pious ladies who went about distributing alms to the poor, and visiting
+infected families, though I will not undertake to say that none of
+those charitable people were suffered to fall under the calamity, yet I
+may say this, that I never knew any of them to fall under it.
+
+Such is the precipitant disposition of our people, that no sooner had
+they observed that the distemper was not so catching as formerly, and
+that if it was catched it was not so mortal, and that abundance of
+people who really fell sick recovered again daily, than they made no
+more of the plague than of an ordinary fever, nor indeed so much. They
+went into the very chambers where others lay sick. This rash conduct
+cost a great many their lives, who had been preserved all through the
+heat of the infection, and the bills of mortality increased again four
+hundred in the first week of November.
+
+But it pleased God, by the continuing of wintry weather, so to restore
+the health of the city that by February following we reckoned the
+distemper quite ceased. The time was not far off when the city was to
+be purged with fire, for within nine months more I saw it all lying in
+ashes.
+
+I shall conclude the account of this calamitous year with a stanza of
+my own:
+
+    A dreadful plague in London was
+      In the year sixty-five,
+    Which swept an hundred thousand souls
+      Away; yet I alive!
+
+
+
+
+DEMOSTHENES
+
+The Philippics
+
+  Demosthenes, by universal consensus of opinion the greatest
+  orator the world has known, was born at Athens 385 B.C. and
+  died 322 B.C. His birth took place just nineteen years after
+  the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War. Losing his father when
+  he was yet a child, his wealth was frittered away by three
+  faithless guardians, whom he prosecuted when he came of age.
+  This dispute, and some other struggles, led him into public
+  life, and by indomitable perseverance he overcame the difficulty
+  constituted by certain physical disqualifications. Identifying
+  himself for life entirely with the interests of Athens, he became
+  the foremost administrator in the state, as well as its most
+  eloquent orator. His stainless character, his matchless powers
+  of advocacy, his fervent patriotism, and his fine diplomacy,
+  render him altogether one of the noblest figures of antiquity.
+  His fame rests mainly on "The Philippics"; those magnificent
+  orations delivered during a series of several years against the
+  aggressions of Philip of Macedon; though the three "Olynthiacs,"
+  and the oration "De Coron�," and several other speeches are
+  monumental of the genius of Demosthenes, more especially the "De
+  Coron�." He continued to resist the Macedonian domination during
+  the career of Alexander the Great, and was exiled, dying, it is
+  supposed, by poison administered by himself, at Calauria. (Cf.
+  also p. 273 of this volume.) This epitome has been prepared from
+  the original Greek.
+
+
+_I.--"Men of Athens, Arouse Yourselves!"_
+
+The subject under discussion on this occasion, men of Athens, is not
+new, and there would be no need to speak further on it if other orators
+deliberated wisely. First, I advise you not to regard the present
+aspect of affairs, miserable though it truly is, as entirely hopeless.
+For the primary cause of the failure is your own mismanagement. If any
+consider it difficult to overcome Philip because of the power that he
+has attained, and because of our disastrous loss of many fortresses,
+they should remember how much he has gained by achieving alliances.
+
+If, now, you will emulate his policy, if every citizen will devote
+himself assiduously to the service of his country, you will assuredly
+recover all that has been lost, and punish Philip. For he has his
+enemies, even among his pretended friends. All dread him because your
+inertia has prevented you from providing any refuge for them. Hence the
+height of arrogance which he now displays and the constantly expanding
+area of his conquests.
+
+When, men of Athens, will you realise that your attitude is the cause
+of this situation? For you idle about, indulging in gossip over
+circumstances, instead of grappling with the actualities. Were this
+antagonist to pass away, another enemy like him would speedily be
+produced by your policy, for Philip is what he is not so much through
+his own prowess as through your own indifference.
+
+As to the plan of action to be initiated, I say that we must inaugurate
+it by providing fifty triremes, also the cavalry and transports and
+boats needed for the fleet. Thus we should be fully prepared to cope
+with the sudden excursions of Philip to Thermopyl� or any other point.
+Besides this naval force, you should equip an army of 2,000 foot
+soldiers, of whom 500 should be Athenians, the remainder mercenaries,
+together with 250 cavalry, including 50 Athenians. Lastly, we should
+have an auxiliary naval contingent of ten swift galleys.
+
+We are now conducting affairs farcically. For we act neither as if
+we were at peace, nor as if we had entered on a war. You enlist your
+soldiers not for warfare, but for religious pageants, and for parades
+and processions in the market-place. We must consolidate our resources,
+embody permanent forces, not temporary levies hastily enlisted, and
+we must secure winter quarters for our troops in those islands which
+possess harbours and granaries for the corn.
+
+No longer, men of Athens, must you continue the mere discussion of
+measures without ever executing any of your projects. Remember that
+Philip sustains his power by drawing on the resources of your own
+allies.
+
+But by adopting my plan you will at one and the same time deprive him
+of his chief sources of supply, and place yourselves out of the reach
+of danger. The policy he has hitherto pursued will be effectually
+thwarted. No longer will he be able to capture your citizens, as he did
+by attacking Lemnos and Imbros, or to seize your Paralus, as he did on
+his descent at Marathon.
+
+But, men of Athens, you spend far larger sums of money on the splendid
+Panathenaic and Dionysian festivals than on your naval and military
+armaments. Moreover, those festivals are always punctually celebrated,
+while your preparations for war are always behindhand. Then, when a
+critical juncture arrives, we find our forces are totally inadequate to
+the emergency.
+
+Having larger resources than any other state, you, Athenians, have
+never adequately availed yourselves of them. You never anticipate the
+movements of Philip, but simply drift after him, sending forces to
+Thermopyl� if you hear he is there, or to any other quarter where he
+may happen to be. Such policy might formerly be excused, but now it
+is as disgraceful as it is intolerable. Are we to wait for Philip's
+aggressiveness to cease? It never will do so unless we resist it. Shall
+we not assume the offensive and descend on his coast with some of our
+forces?
+
+Nothing will result from mere oratory and from mutual recrimination
+among ourselves. My own conviction is that Philip is encouraged by our
+inertia, and that he is carried away by his own successes, but that he
+has no fixed plan of action that can be guessed by foolish chatterers.
+Men of Athens, let us for the future abandon such an attitude, and let
+us bear in mind that we must depend not on the help of others, but on
+ourselves alone. Unless we go to attack Philip where he is, Philip will
+come to attack us where we are.
+
+
+_II.--Beware the Guile of Philip_
+
+Nothing, men of Athens, is done as a sequel to the speeches which
+are delivered and approved concerning the outrageous proceedings of
+Philip. You are earnest in discussion; he is earnest in action. If we
+are to be complacently content because we employ the better arguments,
+well and good; but if we are successfully to resist this formidable
+and increasing power, we must be prepared to entertain advice that is
+salutary, however unpalatable, rather than counsel which is easy and
+pleasant.
+
+If you give me any credit for clear perception, I beg you to attend
+to what I plead. After subduing Thermopyl� and the Phocians, Philip
+quickly apprehended that you could not be induced by any selfish
+considerations to abandon other Greek states to him. The Thebans,
+Messenians, and Argives he lured by bribes. But he knew how, in
+the past, your predecessors scorned the overtures of his ancestor,
+Alexander of Macedon, sent by Mardonius the Persian to induce the
+Athenians to betray the rest of the Greeks. It was not so with the
+Argives and the Thebans, and thus Philip calculates that their
+successors will care nothing for the interests of the Greeks generally.
+So he favours them, but not you.
+
+Everything demonstrates Philip's animosity against Athens. He is
+instinctively aware that you are conscious of his plots against
+you, and ascribes to you a feeling of hatred against him. Eager to
+be beforehand with us, he continues to negotiate with Thebans and
+Peloponnesians, assuming that they may be beguiled with ease.
+
+I call to mind how I addressed the Messenians and the Argives,
+reminding them how Philip had dishonourably given certain of their
+territories to the Olynthians. Would the Olynthians then have listened
+to any disparagements of Philip? Assuredly not. Yet they were soon
+shamefully betrayed and cheated by him. It is unsafe for commonwealths
+to place confidence in despots. In like manner were the Thessalians
+deceived when he had ejected their tyrants and had restored to
+them Nicasa and Magnesia, for he instituted the new tyranny of the
+Decemvirate. Philip is equally ready with gifts and promises on the one
+hand, and with fraud and deceit on the other.
+
+"By Jupiter," said I to those auditors, "the only infallible defence of
+democracies against despots is the absolute refusal of all confidence
+in them. Always to mistrust them is the only safeguard. What is it that
+you seek to secure? Liberty? Then do you not perceive that the very
+titles worn by Philip prove him to be adverse to this? For every king
+and tyrant is an enemy to freedom and an opponent to laws."
+
+But though my speeches and those of other emissaries were received
+with vociferous applause, all the same those who thus manifested
+profound approbation will never be able to resist the blandishments and
+overtures of Philip. It may well be so with those other Greeks. But
+you, O Athenians, surely should understand your own interests better.
+For otherwise irreparable disaster must ensue.
+
+In justice, men of Athens, you should summon the men who communicated
+to you the promises which induced you to consent to peace. Their
+statements misled us; otherwise, neither would I have gone as
+ambassador, nor would you have ceased hostilities. Also, you should
+call those who, after my return from my second embassy, contradicted my
+report. I then protested against the abandonment of Thermopyl� and of
+the Phocians.
+
+They ridiculed me as a water-drinker, and they persuaded you that
+Philip would cede to you Oropus and Euboea in exchange for Amphipolis,
+and also that he would humble the Thebans and at his own charges cut
+through the Chersonese. Your anger will be excited in due time when
+you realise what you have hitherto disregarded, namely, that these
+projects on the part of Philip are devised against Athens.
+
+Though all know it only too well, let me remind you who it was,
+even �schines himself, who induced you by his persuasion to abandon
+Thermopyl� and Phocis. By possessing control over these, Philip now
+commands also the road to Attica and Peloponnesus.
+
+Hence the present situation is this, that you must now consider,
+not distant affairs, but the means of defending your homes and of
+conducting a war in Attica, that war having become inevitable through
+those events, grievous though it will be to every citizen when it
+begins. May the gods grant that the worst fears be not fully confirmed!
+
+
+_III.--Athens Must Head the War_
+
+Various circumstances, men of Athens, have reduced our affairs to the
+worst possible state, this lamentable crisis being due mainly to the
+specious orators who seek rather to please you than wisely to guide
+you. Flattery has generated perilous complacency, and now the position
+is one of extreme danger. I am willing either to preserve silence,
+or to speak frankly, according to your disposition. Yet all may be
+repaired if you awaken to your duty, for Philip has not conquered you;
+you have simply made no real effort against him.
+
+Strange to say, while Philip is actually seizing cities and
+appropriating various portions of our territory, some among us affirm
+that there is really no war. Thus, caution is needed in speech, for
+those who suggest defensive measures may afterwards be indicted for
+causing hostilities. Now, let those who maintain that we are at peace
+propose a resolution for suitable plans. But if you are invaded by an
+armed aggressor, who pretends to be at peace with you, what can you do
+but initiate measures of defence?
+
+Both sides may profess to be at peace, and I do not demur; but it
+is madness to style that a condition of peace which allows Philip
+to subjugate all other states and then to assail you last of all.
+His method of proceeding is to prepare to attack you, while securing
+immunity from the danger of being attacked by you.
+
+If we wait for him to declare war, we wait in vain. For he will treat
+us as he did the Olynthians and the Phocians. Professing to be their
+ally, he appropriated territories belonging to them. Do you imagine
+he would declare war against you before commencing operations of
+encroachment? Never, so long as he knows that you are willing to be
+deceived.
+
+By a series of operations he has been infringing the peace: by his
+attempt to seize Megara, by his intervention in Euboea, by his excursion
+into Thrace. I reckon that the virtual beginnings of hostilities
+must be dated from the day that he completed the subjugation of the
+Thracians. From your other orators I differ in deeming any discussion
+irrelevant respecting the Chersonese or Byzantium. Aid these, indeed;
+but let the safety of all Greece alike be the subject of your
+deliberations.
+
+What I would emphasise is that to Philip have been conceded liberties
+of encroachment and aggression, by you first of all, such as in former
+days were always contested by war. He has attacked and enslaved city
+after city of the Greeks. You Athenians were for seventy-three years
+the supreme leaders in Hellas, as were the Spartans for twenty-nine
+years. Then after the battle of Leuctra the Thebans acquired paramount
+influence. But neither you nor these others ever arrogated the right to
+act according to your pleasure.
+
+If you appeared to act superciliously towards any state, all the other
+states sided with that one which was aggrieved. Yet all the errors
+committed by our predecessors and by those of the Spartans during the
+whole of that century were trivial compared with the wrongs perpetrated
+by Philip during these thirteen years. Cruel has been his destruction
+of Olynthus, of Methone, of Apollonia, and of thirty-two cities on the
+borders of Thrace, and also the extermination of the Phocians. And now
+he domineers ruthlessly over Thessaly and Euboea. Yet all we Greeks of
+various nationalities are in so abjectly miserable a condition that,
+instead of arranging embassies and declaring our indignation, we
+entrench ourselves in isolation in our several cities.
+
+It must be reflected that when wrongs were inflicted by other states,
+by us or the Spartans, these faults were at any rate committed by
+genuine sons of Greece. How much more hateful is the offence when
+perpetrated against a household by a slave or an alien than by a son or
+other member of the family! But Philip is not only no son of Hellas; he
+is not even a reputable barbarian, but only a vile fellow of Macedon,
+a country from which formerly even a respectable slave could not be
+purchased!
+
+What is lacking to his unspeakable arrogance? Does he not assemble the
+Pythian games, command Thermopyl�, garrison the passes, secure prior
+access to the oracle at Delphi, and dictate the form of government for
+Thessaly? All this the Greeks look upon with toleration; they seem
+to regard it as they would some tempest, each hoping it will fall on
+someone else. We are all passive and despondent, mutually distrusting
+each other instead of the common foe.
+
+How different the noble spirit of former days! How different that old
+passion for liberty which is now superseded by the love of servitude!
+Then corruption was so deeply detested that there was no pardon for
+the guilt of bribery. Now venality is laughed at and bribery goes
+unpunished. In ships, men, equipment, and revenues our resources are
+larger than ever before, but corruption neutralises them all.
+
+But preparations for war are not sufficient. You must not only be ready
+to encounter the foes without, but must punish those who among you are
+the creatures of Philip, like those who caused the ruin of Olynthus by
+betraying the cavalry and by securing the banishment of Apollonides.
+Similar treachery brought about the downfall of other cities. The same
+fate may befall us. What, then, must be done?
+
+When we have done all that is needful for our own defence, let us next
+send our emissaries to all the other states with the intelligence
+that we are ready. If you imagine that others will save Greece while
+you avoid the conflict, you cherish a fatal delusion. This enterprise
+devolves on you; you inherit it from your ancestors.
+
+
+_IV.--Exterminate the Traitors!_
+
+Men of Athens, your chief misfortune is that, though for the passing
+moment you heed important news, you speedily scatter and forget what
+you have just heard. You have become fully acquainted with the doings
+of Philip, and you well know how great is his ambition; and yet, so
+profound has been our indifference that we have earned the contempt
+of several other states, which now prefer to undertake their defence
+separately rather than in alliance with us.
+
+You must become more deeply convinced than you have been hitherto that
+our destruction is the supreme anxiety of Philip. The special object of
+his hatred is your democratic constitution. Our mode of procedure is a
+mockery, for we are always behind in the execution of our schemes. You
+must form a permanent army with a regular organisation, and with funds
+sufficient for its maintenance.
+
+Most of all, money is needed to meet coming requirements. There was a
+time when money was forthcoming and everything necessary was performed.
+Why do we now decline to do our duty? In a time of peril to the
+commonwealth the affluent should freely contribute of their possessions
+for the welfare of the country; but each class has its obligations to
+the state and should observe them.
+
+Many and inveterate are the causes of our present difficulties. You, O
+Athenians, have surrendered the august position which your predecessors
+bequeathed you, and have indolently permitted a stranger to usurp it.
+The present crisis involves peril for all the states, but to Athens
+most of all; and that not so much on account of Philip's schemes of
+conquest, as of your neglect.
+
+How is it, Athenians, that none affirm concerning Philip that he is
+guilty of aggression, even while he is seizing cities, while those
+who advise resistance are indicated as inciting to war? The reason is
+that those who have been corrupted believe that if you do resist him
+you will overcome him, and they can no longer secure the reward of
+treachery.
+
+Remember what you have at stake. Should you fall under the dominion
+of Philip, he will show you no pity, for his desire is not merely to
+subdue Athens, but to destroy it. The struggle will be to the death;
+therefore, those who would sell the country to him you must exterminate
+without scruple. This is the only city where such treacherous citizens
+can dare to speak in his favour. Only here may a man safely accept a
+bribe and openly address the people.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH WALDO EMERSON
+
+English Traits
+
+  In 1847 Emerson (see Vol. XIII, p. 339) made his second visit to
+  England, this time on a lecturing tour. An outcome of the visit
+  was "English Traits," which was first published in 1856. "I leave
+  England," he wrote on his return home, "with an increased respect
+  for the Englishman. His stuff or substance seems to be the best
+  in the world." "English Traits" deals with a series of definite
+  subjects which do not admit of much philosophic digression, and
+  there is, therefore, an absence of the flashes of spiritual and
+  poetic insight which gave Emerson his charm.
+
+
+_I.--The Anchorage of Britain_
+
+I did not go very willingly to England. I am not a good traveller, nor
+have I found that long journeys yield a fair share of reasonable hours.
+I find a sea-life an acquired taste, like that for tomatoes and olives.
+The sea is masculine, the type of active strength. Look what egg-shells
+are drifting all over it, each one filled with men in ecstasies of
+terror alternating with cockney conceit, as it is rough or smooth. But
+to the geologist the sea is the only firmament; it is the land that is
+in perpetual flux and change. It has been said that the King of England
+would consult his dignity by giving audience to foreign ambassadors in
+the cabin of a man-of-war; and I think the white path of an Atlantic
+ship is the right avenue to the palace-front of this seafaring people.
+
+England is a garden. Under an ash-coloured sky, the fields have been
+combed and rolled till they appear to have been finished with a pencil
+instead of a plough. Rivers, hills, valleys, the sea itself, feel the
+hand of a master. The problem of the traveller landing in Liverpool
+is, Why England is England? What are the elements of that power which
+the English hold over other nations? If there be one test of national
+genius universally accepted, it is success; and if there be one
+successful country in the universe that country is England.
+
+The culture of the day, the thoughts and aims of men, are English
+thoughts and aims. A nation considerable for a thousand years has in
+the last centuries obtained the ascendant, and stamped the knowledge,
+activity, and power of mankind with its impress.
+
+The territory has a singular perfection. Neither hot nor cold, there is
+no hour in the whole year when one cannot work. The only drawback to
+industrial conveniency is the darkness of the sky. The night and day
+are too nearly of a colour.
+
+England resembles a ship in shape, and, if it were one, its best
+admiral could not have anchored it in a more judicious or effective
+position. The shop-keeping nation, to use a shop word, has a good
+stand. It is anchored at the side of Europe, and right in the heart of
+the modern world.
+
+In variety of surface Britain is a miniature of Europe, as if Nature
+had given it an artificial completeness. It is as if Nature had held
+counsel with herself and said: "My Romans are gone. To build my new
+empire I will choose a rude race, all masculine, with brutish strength.
+Sharp and temperate northern breezes shall blow to keep them alive
+and alert. The sea shall disjoin the people from others and knit them
+by a fierce nationality. Long time will I keep them on their feet, by
+poverty, border-wars, seafaring, sea-risks, and stimulus of gain." A
+singular coincidence to this geographic centrality is the spiritual
+centrality which Emanuel Swedenborg ascribes to the people: "The
+English nation are in the centre of all Christians, because they have
+an interior intellectual light. This light they derive from the liberty
+of speaking and writing, and thereby of thinking."
+
+
+_II.--Racial Characteristics_
+
+The British Empire is reckoned to contain a fifth of the population
+of the globe; but what makes the British census proper important is
+the quality of the units that compose it. They are free, forcible men
+in a country where life has reached the greatest value. They have
+sound bodies and supreme endurance in war and in labour. They have
+assimilating force, since they are imitated by their foreign subjects;
+and they are still aggressive and propagandist, enlarging the dominion
+of their arts and liberty.
+
+The English composite character betrays a mixed origin. Everything
+English is a fusion of distant and antagonistic elements. The language
+is mixed; the currents of thought are counter; contemplation and
+practical skill; active intellect and dead conservatism; world-wide
+enterprise and devoted use and wont; a country of extremes--nothing in
+it can be praised without damning exceptions, and nothing denounced
+without salvos of cordial praise.
+
+The sources from which tradition derives its stock are mainly three:
+First, the Celtic--a people of hidden and precarious genius; second,
+the Germans, a people about whom, in the old empire, the rumour ran
+there was never any that meddled with them that repented it not; and,
+third, the Norsemen and the children out of France. Twenty thousand
+thieves landed at Hastings. These founders of the House of Lords were
+greedy and ferocious dragoons, sons of greedy and ferocious pirates.
+Such, however, is the illusion of antiquity and wealth that decent and
+dignified men now existing actually boast their descent from these
+filthy thieves.
+
+As soon as this land, thus geographically posted, got a hardy people
+into it, they could not help becoming the sailors and factors of the
+world. The English, at the present day, have great vigour of body.
+They are round, ruddy, and handsome, with a tendency to stout and
+powerful frames. It is the fault of their forms that they grow stocky,
+but in all ages they are a handsome race, and please by an expression
+blending good nature, valour, refinement, and an uncorrupt youth in the
+face of manhood.
+
+The English are rather manly than warlike. They delight in the
+antagonism which combines in one person the extremes of courage and
+tenderness. Nelson, dying at Trafalgar, says, "Kiss me, Hardy," and
+turns to sleep. Even for their highwaymen this virtue is claimed, and
+Robin Hood is the gentlest thief. But they know where their war-dogs
+lie, and Cromwell, Blake, Marlborough, Nelson, and Wellington are not
+to be trifled with.
+
+They have vigorous health and last well into middle and old age. They
+have more constitutional energy than any other people. They box,
+run, shoot, ride, row, and sail from Pole to Pole. They are the most
+voracious people of prey that have ever existed, and they have written
+the game-books of all countries.
+
+These Saxons are the hands of mankind--the world's wealth-makers. They
+have that temperament which resists every means employed to make its
+possessor subservient to others. The English game is main force to main
+force, the planting of foot to foot, fair play and an open field--a
+rough tug without trick or dodging till one or both comes to pieces.
+They hate craft and subtlety; and when they have pounded each other to
+a poultice they will shake hands and be friends for the remainder of
+their lives.
+
+Their realistic logic of coupling means to ends has given them the
+leadership of the modern world. Montesquieu said: "No people have true
+commonsense but those who are born in England." This commonsense is
+a perception of laws that cannot be stated, or that are learned only
+by practice, with allowance for friction. The bias of the nation is
+a passion for utility. They are heavy at the fine arts, but adroit at
+the coarse. The Frenchman invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the
+shirt. They think him the best-dressed man whose dress is so fit for
+his use that you cannot notice or remember to describe it.
+
+In war the Englishman looks to his means; but, conscious that no
+better race of men exists, they rely most on the simplest means. They
+fundamentally believe that the best stratagem in naval war is to bring
+your ship alongside of the enemy's ship, and bring all your guns to
+bear on him until you or he go to the bottom. This is the old fashion
+which never goes out of fashion.
+
+Tacitus said of the Germans: "Powerful only in sudden efforts, they are
+impatient of toil and labour." This highly destined race, if it had
+not somewhere added the chamber of patience to its brain, would not
+have built London. I know not from which of the tribes and temperaments
+that went to the composition of the people this tenacity was supplied,
+but they clinch every nail they drive. "To show capacity," a Frenchman
+described as the end of speech in a debate. "No," said an Englishman,
+"but to advance the business."
+
+The nation sits in the immense city they have builded--a London
+extended into every man's mind. The modern world is theirs. They have
+made and make it day by day. In every path of practical ability they
+have gone even with the best. There is no department of literature, of
+science, or of useful art in which they have not produced a first-rate
+book. It is England whose opinion is waited for. English trade exists
+to make well everything which is ill-made elsewhere. Steam is almost an
+Englishman.
+
+One secret of the power of this people is their mutual good
+understanding. Not only good minds are born among them, but all the
+people have good minds. An electric touch by any of their national
+ideas melts them into one family. The chancellor carries England on
+his mace, the midshipman at the point of his dirk, the smith on his
+hammer, the cook in the bowl of his spoon, and the sailor times his
+oars to "God save the King!"
+
+I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in
+his shoes. The one thing the English value is pluck. The word is
+not beautiful, but on the quality they signify by it the nation is
+unanimous. The cabmen have it, the merchants have it, the bishops have
+it, the women have it, the journals have it. They require you to dare
+to be of your own opinion, and they hate the practical cowards who
+cannot answer directly Yes or No.
+
+Their vigour appears in the incuriosity and stony neglect each of the
+other. Each man walks, eats, drinks, shaves, dresses, gesticulates,
+and in every manner acts and suffers, without reference to the
+bystanders--he is really occupied with his own affairs, and does not
+think of them. In short, every one of these islanders is an island
+himself, safe, tranquil, incommunicable.
+
+Born in a harsh and wet climate, which keeps him indoors whenever he is
+at rest, and, being of an affectionate and loyal temper, the Englishman
+dearly loves his home. If he is rich he builds a hall, and brings to
+it trophies of the adventures and exploits of the family, till it
+becomes a museum of heirlooms. England produces, under favourable
+conditions of ease and culture, the finest women in the world. Nothing
+can be more delicate without being fantastical, than the courtship and
+mutual carriage of the sexes. Domesticity is the taproot which enables
+the nation to branch wide and high. In an aristocratical country
+like England, not the trial by jury, but the dinner is the capital
+institution. It is the mode of doing honour to a stranger to ask him to
+eat.
+
+The practical power of the English rests on their sincerity. Alfred,
+whom the affection of the nation makes the type of their race, is
+called by a writer at the Norman Conquest, the "truth-speaker." The
+phrase of the lowest of the people is "honour-bright," and their
+praise, "his word is as good as his bond." They confide in each
+other--English believes in English. Madame de Sta�l says that the
+English irritated Napoleon mainly because they have found out how to
+unite success with honesty. The ruling passion of an Englishman is a
+terror of humbug.
+
+The English race are reputed morose. They have enjoyed a reputation for
+taciturnity for six or seven hundred years. Cold, repressive manners
+prevail, and there is a wooden deadness in certain Englishmen which
+surpasses all other countrymen. In the power of saying rude truth
+no men rival them. They are proud and private, and even if disposed
+to recreation will avoid an open garden. They are full of coarse
+strength, butcher's meat, and sound sleep. They are good lovers, good
+haters, slow but obstinate admirers, and very much steeped in their
+temperament, like men hardly awaked from deep sleep which they enjoy.
+
+The English have a mild aspect, and ringing, cheerful voice. Of
+absolute stoutness of spirit, no nation has more or better examples.
+They are good at storming redoubts, at boarding frigates, at dying in
+the last ditch, or any desperate service which has daylight and honour
+in it. They stoutly carry into every nook and corner of the earth
+their turbulent sense of inquiry, leaving no lie uncontradicted, no
+pretension unexamined.
+
+They are very conscious of their advantageous position in history. I
+suppose that all men of English blood in America, Europe, or Asia, have
+a secret feeling of joy that they are not Frenchmen. They only are not
+foreigners. In short, I am afraid that the English nature is so rank
+and aggressive as to be a little incompatible with any other. The world
+is not wide enough for two. More intellectual than other races, when
+they live with other races they do not take their language, but bestow
+their own. They subsidise other nations, and are not subsidised. They
+proselytise and are not proselytised. They assimilate other nations to
+themselves and are not assimilated.
+
+
+_III.--Wealth, Aristocracy, and Religion_
+
+There is no country in which so absolute a homage is paid to wealth.
+There is a mixture of religion in it. The Englishman esteems wealth a
+final certificate. He believes that every man has himself to thank if
+he does not mend his condition. To pay their debts is their national
+point of honour. The British armies are solvent, and pay for what they
+take. The British empire is solvent. It is their maxim that the weight
+of taxes must be calculated not by what is taken but by what is left.
+They say without shame: "I cannot afford it." Such is their enterprise,
+that there is enough wealth in England to support the entire population
+in idleness one year. The proudest result of this creation of wealth is
+that great and refined forces are put at the disposal of the private
+citizen, and in the social world the Englishman to-day has the best
+lot. I much prefer the condition of an English gentleman of the better
+class to that of any potentate in Europe.
+
+The feudal character of the English state, now that it is getting
+obsolete, glares a little in contrast with democratic tendencies. But
+the frame of society is aristocratic. Every man who becomes rich buys
+land, and does what he can to fortify the nobility, into which he hopes
+to rise. The taste of the people is conservative. They are proud of
+the castles, language, and symbols of chivalry. English history is
+aristocracy with the doors open. Who has courage and faculty, let him
+come in.
+
+All nobility in its beginnings was somebody's natural superiority. The
+things these English have done were not done without peril of life, nor
+without wisdom of conduct, and the first hands, it may be presumed,
+were often challenged to show their right to their honours, or yield
+them to better men.
+
+Comity, social talent, and fine manners no doubt have had their part
+also. The lawyer, the farmer, the silk mercer lies _perdu_ under the
+coronet, and winks to the antiquary to say nothing. They were nobody's
+sons who did some piece of work at a nice moment.
+
+The English names are excellent--they spread an atmosphere of legendary
+melody over the land. Older than epics and histories, which clothe
+a nation, this undershirt sits close to the body. What stores of
+primitive and savage observation it infolds! Cambridge is the bridge
+of the Cam; Sheffield the field of the river Sheaf; Leicester the camp
+of Lear; Waltham is Strong Town; Radcliffe is Red Cliff, and so on--a
+sincerity and use in naming very striking to an American, whose country
+is whitewashed all over with unmeaning names, the cast-off clothes of
+the country from which the emigrants came, or named at a pinch from a
+psalm tune.
+
+In seeing old castles and cathedrals I sometimes say: "This was built
+by another and a better race than any that now look on it." Their
+architecture still glows with faith in immortality. Good churches are
+not built by bad men; at least, there must be probity and enthusiasm
+somewhere in society.
+
+England felt the full heat of the Christianity which fermented Europe,
+and, like the chemistry of fire, drew a firm line between barbarism
+and culture. When the Saxon instinct had secured a service in the
+vernacular tongue the Church was the tutor and university of the people.
+
+Now the Anglican Church is marked by the grace and good sense of its
+forms; by the manly grace of its clergy. The gospel it preaches is "By
+taste are ye saved." The religion of England is part of good breeding.
+When you see on the Continent the well-dressed Englishman come into
+his ambassador's chapel and put his face for silent prayer into his
+well-brushed hat, you cannot help feeling how much national pride prays
+with him, and the religion of a gentleman.
+
+At this moment the Church is much to be pitied. If a bishop meets an
+intelligent gentleman and reads fatal interrogation in his eyes, he has
+no resource but to take wine with him.
+
+But the religion of England--is it the Established Church? No. Is it
+the sects? No. Where dwells the religion? Tell me first where dwells
+electricity, or motion, or thought? They do not dwell or stay at all.
+Electricity is passing, glancing, gesticular; it is a traveller, a
+newness, a secret. Yet, if religion be the doing of all good, and for
+its sake the suffering of all evil, that divine secret has existed in
+England from the days of Alfred to the days of Florence Nightingale,
+and in thousands who have no fame.
+
+
+
+
+Representative Men
+
+  Some of the lectures delivered by Emerson during his lecturing
+  tour in England were published in 1850 under the title of
+  "Representative Men," and the main trend of their thought
+  and opinion is here followed in Emerson's own words. It will
+  be noted that the use of the term "sceptic," as applied to
+  Montaigne, is not the ordinary use of the word, but signifies
+  a person spontaneously given to free inquiry rather than
+  aggressive disbelief. The estimate of Napoleon is original. In
+  "Representative Men" Emerson is much more consecutive in his
+  thought than is customary with him. His pearls are as plentiful
+  here as elsewhere, but they are not scattered disconnectedly.
+
+
+_Plato_
+
+Among secular books, Plato only is entitled to Omar's fanatical
+compliment to the Koran: "Burn all books, for their value is in this
+book." Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated
+among men of thought. Plato is philosophy, and philosophy Plato. No
+wife, no children had he, but the thinkers of all civilised nations are
+his posterity, and are tinged with his mind.
+
+Great geniuses have the shortest biographies. They lived in their
+writings, and so their house and street life is commonplace. Their
+cousins can tell you nothing about them. Plato, especially, has no
+external biography.
+
+Plato stands between the truth and every man's mind, and has almost
+impressed language and the primary forms of thought with his name and
+seal.
+
+The first period of a nation, as of an individual, is the period of
+unconscious strength. Children cry, scream, and stamp with fury, unable
+to express their desires. As soon as they can speak and tell their
+wants they become gentle. With nations he is as a god to them who can
+rightly divide and define. This defining is philosophy. Philosophy is
+the account which the human mind gives to itself of the constitution of
+the world.
+
+Two cardinal facts lie ever at the base of thought: Unity and
+Variety--oneness and otherness.
+
+To this partiality the history of nations corresponds. The country of
+unity, faithful to the idea of a deaf, unimplorable, immense fate, is
+Asia; on the other side, the genius of Europe is active and creative.
+If the East loves infinity, the West delights in boundaries. Plato
+came to join and enhance the energy of each. The excellence of Europe
+and Asia is in his brain. No man ever more fully acknowledged the
+Ineffable; but having paid his homage, as for the human race, to the
+illimitable, he then stood erect, and for the human race affirmed:
+"And yet things are knowable!" Full of the genius of Europe, he said
+"Culture," he said "Nature," but he failed not to add, "There is also
+the divine."
+
+This leads us to the central figure which he has established in his
+academy. Socrates and Plato are the double-star which the most powerful
+instrument will not entirely separate. Socrates, in his traits and
+genius, is the best example of that synthesis which constitutes
+Plato's extraordinary power.
+
+Socrates, a man of humble stem, and a personal homeliness so remarkable
+as to be a cause of wit in others, was a cool fellow, with a knowledge
+of his man, be he whom he might whom he talked with, which laid
+the companion open to certain defeat in debate; and in debate he
+immoderately delighted. He was what in our country people call "an old
+one." This hard-headed humorist, whose drollery diverted the young
+patricians, turns out in the sequel to have a probity as invincible as
+his logic, and to be, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his
+religion. When accused before the judges, he affirmed the immortality
+of the soul and a future reward and punishment, and, refusing to
+recant, was condemned to die; he entered the prison and took away all
+ignominy from the place. The fame of this prison, the fame of the
+discourses there, and the drinking of the hemlock, are one of the most
+precious passages in the history of the world.
+
+The rare coincidence in one ugly body of the droll and the martyr, the
+keen street debater with the sweetest saint known to any history at
+that time, had forcibly struck the mind of Plato, and the figure of
+Socrates placed itself in the foreground of the scene as the fittest
+dispenser of the intellectual treasures he had to communicate.
+
+It remains to say that the defect of Plato is that he is literary,
+and never otherwise. His writings have not the vital authority which
+the screams of prophets and the sermons of unlettered Arabs and Jews
+possess.
+
+And he had not a system. The acutest German, the lovingest disciple
+could never tell what Platonism was. No power of genius has ever yet
+had the smallest success in explaining existence. The perfect enigma
+remains.
+
+
+_Montaigne_
+
+The philosophers affirm disdainfully the superiority of ideas. To
+men of this world the man of ideas appears out of his reason. The
+abstractionist and the materialist thus mutually exasperating each
+other, there arises a third party to occupy the middle ground between
+the two, the sceptic. He labours to be the beam of the balance. There
+is so much to say on all sides. This is the position occupied by
+Montaigne.
+
+In 1571, on the death of his father, he retired from the practice of
+the law, at Bordeaux, and settled himself on his estate. Downright
+and plain dealing, and abhorring to be deceived or to deceive, he was
+esteemed in the country for his sense and probity. In the civil wars of
+the League, which converted every house into a fort, Montaigne kept his
+gates open, and his house without defence. All parties freely came and
+went, his courage and honor being universally esteemed.
+
+Montaigne is the frankest and honestest of all writers. The essays are
+an entertaining soliloquy on every random topic that comes into his
+head, treating everything without ceremony, yet with masculine sense. I
+know not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is the language
+of conversation transferred to a book. Montaigne talks with shrewdness,
+knows the world, and books, and himself; never shrieks, or protests, or
+prays. He keeps the plain; he rarely mounts or sinks; he likes to feel
+solid ground and the stones underneath.
+
+We are natural believers. We are persuaded that a thread runs
+through all things, and all worlds are strung on it as beads. But
+though we reject a sour, dumpish unbelief, to the sceptical class,
+which Montaigne represents, every man at some time belongs. The
+ground occupied by the sceptic is the vestibule of the temple. The
+interrogation of custom at all points is an inevitable stage in
+the growth of every superior mind. It stands in the mind of the
+wise sceptic that our life in this world is not quite so easy of
+interpretation as churches and school books say. He does not wish to
+take ground against these benevolences, but he says: "There are doubts.
+Shall we, because good nature inclines us to virtue's side, say, 'There
+are no doubts--and lie for the right?' Is not the satisfaction of the
+doubts essential to all manliness?"
+
+I may play with the miscellany of facts, and take those superficial
+views which we call scepticism; but I know they will presently appear
+to me in that order which makes scepticism impossible. For the world is
+saturated with deity and law. Things seem to tend downward, to justify
+despondency, to promote rogues, to defeat the just; but by knaves as
+by martyrs the just cause is carried forward, and general ends are
+somewhat answered. The world-spirit is a good swimmer, and storms and
+waves cannot drown him. Through the years and the centuries, through
+evil agents, through toys and atoms, a great and beneficent tendency
+irresistibly streams. So let a man learn to look for the permanent in
+the mutable and fleeting; let him learn to bear the disappearance of
+things he was wont to reverence without losing his reverence.
+
+
+_Shakespeare_
+
+Shakespeare is the only biographer of Shakespeare. So far from
+Shakespeare being the least known, he is the one person in all modern
+history known to us. What point of morals, of manners, of economy,
+of philosophy, of taste, of conduct of life has he not settled?
+What district of man's work has he not remembered? What king has he
+not taught statecraft? What maiden has not found him finer than her
+delicacy? What lover has he not outloved?
+
+Some able and appreciating critics think no criticism on Shakespeare
+valuable that does not rest purely on the dramatic merit; that he is
+falsely judged as poet and philosopher. I think as highly as these
+critics of his dramatic merit, but still think it secondary. He was
+a full man who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and images,
+which, seeking vent, found the drama next at hand.
+
+Shakespeare is as much out of the category of eminent authors as he is
+out of the crowd. He is inconceivably wise; the others, conceivably.
+With this wisdom of life is the equal endowment of imaginative and
+lyric power. An omnipresent humanity co-ordinates all his faculties.
+He has no peculiarity, no importunate topic, but all is duly given. No
+mannerist is he; he has no discoverable egotism--the great he tells
+greatly, the small subordinately. He is wise without emphasis or
+assertion; he is strong as Nature is strong, who lifts the land into
+mountain slopes without effort, and by the same rule as she floats a
+bubble in the air, and likes as well to do the one as the other. This
+power of transferring the inmost truth of things into music and verse
+makes him the type of the poet.
+
+One royal trait that belongs to Shakespeare is his cheerfulness. He
+delights in the world, in man, in woman, for the lovely light that
+sparkles from them. Beauty, the spirit of joy, he sheds over the
+universe. If he appeared in any company of human souls, who would not
+march in his troop? He touches nothing that does not borrow health and
+longevity from his festal style. He was master of the revels to mankind.
+
+
+_Napoleon_
+
+Among the eminent persons of the nineteenth century, Bonaparte owes his
+predominance to the fidelity with which he expresses the aim of the
+masses of active and cultivated men. If Napoleon was Europe, it was
+because the people whom he swayed were little Napoleons. He is the
+representative of the class of industry and skill. "God has granted,"
+says the Koran, "to every people a prophet in its own tongue." Paris,
+London, and New York, the spirit of commerce, of money, of material
+power, were also to have their prophet--and Bonaparte was qualified and
+sent. He was the idol of common men because he, in transcendent degree,
+had the qualities and powers of common men. He came to his own and they
+received him.
+
+An Italian proverb declares that if you would succeed you must not be
+too good. Napoleon renounced, once for all, sentiments and affections,
+and helped himself with his hands and his head. The art of war was the
+game in which he exerted his arithmetic. He had a directness of action
+never before combined with so much comprehension. History is full of
+the imbecility of kings and governors. They are a class of persons to
+be much pitied, for they know not what they should do. But Napoleon
+understood his business. He knew what to do, and he flew to his mark.
+He put out all his strength; he risked everything; he spared nothing;
+he went to the edge of his possibilities.
+
+This vigour was guarded and tempered by the coldest prudence and
+punctuality. His very attack was never the inspiration of courage, but
+the result of calculation. The necessity of his position required a
+hospitality to every sort of talent, and his feeling went along with
+this policy. In fact, every species of merit was sought and advanced
+under his government. Seventeen men in his time were raised from
+common soldiers to the rank of king, marshal, duke, or general. I call
+Napoleon the agent or attorney of the middle class of modern society.
+
+His life was an experiment, under the most favourable conditions, of
+the powers of intellect without conscience. All passed away, like the
+smoke of his artillery, and left no trace. He did all that in him lay
+to live and thrive without moral principle.
+
+
+_Goethe_
+
+I find a provision in the constitution of the world for the writer or
+secretary who is to report the doings of the miraculous spirit of life
+that everywhere throbs and works. Nature will be reported. All things
+are engaged in writing their history. The planet goes attended by its
+shadow. The air is full of sounds, the sky of tokens; the ground is all
+memoranda and signatures.
+
+Society has really no graver interest than the well-being of the
+literary class. Still, the writer does not stand with us on any
+commanding ground. I think this to be his own fault. There have been
+times when he was a sacred person; he wrote Bibles; the first hymns;
+the codes; the epics; tragic songs; Sibylline verses; Chald�an oracles.
+Every word was true, and woke the nations to new life. How can he be
+honoured when he is a sycophant ducking to the giddy opinion of a
+reckless public?
+
+Goethe was the philosopher of the nineteenth century multitude,
+hundred-handed, Argus-eyed, able and happy to cope with the century's
+rolling miscellany of facts and sciences, and by his own versatility
+dispose of them with ease; and what he says of religion, of passion,
+of marriage, of manners, of property, of paper-money, of periods of
+belief, of omens, of luck, of whatever else, refuses to be forgotten.
+
+What distinguishes Goethe, for French and English readers, is an
+habitual reference to interior truth. But I dare not say that Goethe
+ascended to the highest grounds from which genius has spoken. He is
+incapable of self-surrender to the moral sentiment. Goethe can never
+be dear to men. His is a devotion to truth for the sake of culture.
+But the idea of absolute eternal truth, without reference to my own
+enlargement by it is higher; and the surrender to the torrent of poetic
+inspiration is higher.
+
+
+
+
+ERASMUS
+
+Familiar Colloquies
+
+  Desiderius Erasmus, the most learned ecclesiastic of the
+  fifteenth century, and the friend of Luther and other reformers,
+  was born at Rotterdam on October 28, 1466, and died at Basel on
+  July 12, 1536. He was the son of a Dutchman named Gerard, and,
+  according to the fashion of the age, changed his family name
+  into its respective Latin and Greek equivalents, Desiderius and
+  Erasmus, meaning "desired," or "loved." Entering the priesthood
+  in 1492, he pursued his studies at Paris, and became so renowned
+  a scholar that he was, on visiting England, received with
+  distinction, not only at the universities, but also by the king.
+  For some time Erasmus settled in Italy, brilliant prospects being
+  held out to him at Rome; but his restless temperament impelled
+  him to wander again, and he came again to England, where he
+  associated with the most distinguished scholars, including Dean
+  Colet and Sir Thomas More. Perhaps nothing in the whole range
+  of medi�val literature made a greater sensation immediately on
+  its appearance, in 1521, than the "Colloquia," or "Familiar
+  Colloquies Concerning Men, Manners, and Things," of Erasmus. As
+  its title indicates, it consists of dialogues, and its author
+  intended it to make youths more proficient in Latin, that
+  language being the chief vehicle of intercommunication in the
+  Middle Ages. But Erasmus claims, in his preface, that another
+  purpose of the book is to make better men as well as better
+  Latinists, for he says: "If the ancient teachers of children are
+  commended who allured the young with wafers, I think it ought
+  not to be charged on me that by the like reward I allure youths
+  either to the elegancy of the Latin tongue or to piety." This
+  selection is made from the Latin text.
+
+
+_Concerning Men, Manners and Things_
+
+Erasmus issued his first edition of the "Colloquies" in 1521.
+Successive editions appeared with great rapidity. Its popularity
+wherever Latin was read was immense, but it was condemned by the
+Sarbonne, prohibited in France, and devoted to the flames publicly
+in Spain. The reader of its extraordinary chapters will not fail
+to comprehend that such a fate was inevitable in the case of such a
+production in those times. For, as the friend of the reformers who were
+"turning the world upside down," Erasmus in this treatise penned the
+most audacious, sardonic, and withering onslaught ever delivered by
+any writer on ecclesiastical corruption of religion. He never attacks
+religion itself, but extols and defends it; his aim is to launch a
+series of terrific innuendoes on ecclesiasticism as it had developed
+and as he saw it. He satirically, and even virulently, attacks monks
+and many of their habits, the whole system of cloister-life, the
+festivals and pilgrimages which formed one of the chief features of
+religious activity, and the grotesque superstitions which his peculiar
+genius for eloquent irony so well qualified him to caricature.
+
+This great work, one of the epoch-making books of the world, consists
+of sixty-two "Colloquies," of very varying length. They treat of the
+most curiously diverse topics, as may be imagined from such titles of
+the chapters as "The Youth's Piety," "The Lover and the Maiden," "The
+Shipwreck," "The Epithalamium of Peter Egidius," "The Alchemist," "The
+Horse Cheat," "The Cyclops, or the Gospel Carrier," "The Assembly or
+Parliament of Women," "Concerning Early Rising."
+
+A sample of the style of the "Colloquies" in the more serious sections
+may be taken from the one entitled "The Religious Banquet."
+
+NEPHEW: How unwillingly have I seen many Christians die. Some put their
+trust in things not to be confided in; others breathe out their souls
+in desperation, either out of a consciousness of their lewd lives, or
+by reason of scruples that have been injected into their minds, even in
+their dying hours, by some indiscreet men, die almost in despair.
+
+CHRYSOGLOTTUS: It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent
+their lives in philosophising all their lives about ceremonies.
+
+NEPHEW: What do you mean by ceremonies?
+
+CHRYSOGLOTTUS: I will tell you, but with protestation beforehand,
+over and over, that I do not find fault with the rites and sacraments
+of the Church, but rather highly approve of them; but I blame a
+wicked and superstitious sort of people who teach people to put their
+confidence in these things, omitting those things that make them truly
+Christians. If you look into Christians in common, do they not live as
+if the whole sum of religion consisted in ceremonies? With how much
+pomp are the ancient rites of the Church set forth in baptism? The
+infant waits without the church door, the exorcism is performed, the
+catechism is performed, vows are made, Satan is abjured with all his
+pomps and pleasures; then the child is anointed, signed, seasoned with
+salt, dipped, a charge given to its sureties to see it well brought
+up; and the oblation money being paid, they are discharged, and by
+this time the child passes for a Christian, and in some sense is so. A
+little time after it is anointed again, and in time learns to confess,
+receive the sacrament, is accustomed to rest on holy days, to hear
+divine service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from flesh; and if he
+observes all these he passes for an absolute Christian. He marries a
+wife, and then comes on another sacrament; he enters into holy orders,
+is anointed again and consecrated, his habit is changed, and then to
+prayers.
+
+Now, I approve of the doing of all this well enough, but the doing
+of them more out of custom than conscience I do not approve. But to
+think that nothing else is requisite for the making of a Christian I
+absolutely disapprove. For the greater part of the men in the world
+trust to these things, and think they have nothing else to do but get
+wealth by right or wrong, to gratify their passions of lust, rage,
+malice, ambition. And this they do till they come on their death-bed.
+And then follow more ceremonies--confession upon confession more
+unction still, the eucharists are administered; tapers, the cross, the
+holy water are brought in; indulgences are procured, if they are to be
+had for love or money; and orders are given for a magnificent funeral.
+Now, although these things may be well enough, as they are done in
+conformity to ecclesiastical customs, yet there are some more internal
+impressions which have an efficacy to fortify us against the assaults
+of death by filling our hearts with joy, and helping us to go out of
+the world with a Christian assurance.
+
+EUSEBIUS: When I was in England I saw St. Thomas' tomb all over
+bedecked with a vast number of jewels of an immense price, besides
+other rich furniture, even to admiration. I had rather that these
+superfluities should be applied to charitable uses than to be reserved
+for princes that shall one time or other make a booty of them. The holy
+man, I am confident, would have been better pleased to have had his
+tomb adorned with leaves and flowers.... Rich men, nowadays, will have
+their monuments in churches, whereas in time past they could hardly get
+room for their saints there. If I were a priest or a bishop, I would
+put it into the head of these thick-skulled courtiers or merchants
+that if they would atone for their sins to Almighty God they should
+privately bestow their liberality on the relief of the poor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A wonderful plea for peace, in shape of an exquisite satire, is the
+"Colloquy" entitled "Charon." It is a dialogue between Charon, the
+ghostly boatman on the River Styx, and Genius Alastor. Its style may be
+gathered from the following excerpt.
+
+CHARON: Whither are you going so brisk, and in such haste, Alastor?
+
+ALASTOR: O Charon, you come in the nick of time; I was coming to you.
+
+CHARON: Well, what news do you bring?
+
+ALASTOR: I bring a message to you and Prosperine that you will be glad
+to hear. All the Furies have been no less diligent than they have been
+successful in gaining their point. There is not one foot of ground
+upon earth that they have not infected with their hellish calamities,
+seditions, wars, robberies, and plagues. Do you get your boat and your
+oars ready; you will have such a vast multitude of ghosts come to you
+anon that I am afraid you will not be able to carry them all over
+yourself.
+
+CHARON: I could have told you that.
+
+ALASTOR: How came you to know it?
+
+CHARON: Ossa brought me that news about two days ago!
+
+ALASTOR: Nothing is more swift than that goddess. But what makes you
+loitering here, having left your boat?
+
+CHARON: My business brought me hither. I came hither to provide myself
+with a good strong three-oared boat, for my boat is so rotten and leaky
+with age that it will not carry such a burden, if Ossa told me true.
+
+ALASTOR: What was it that Ossa told you?
+
+CHARON: That the three monarchs of the world were bent upon each
+other's destruction with a mortal hatred, and that no part of
+Christendom was free from the rage of war; for these three have drawn
+in all the rest to be engaged in the war with them. They are all so
+haughty that not one of them will in the least submit to the other.
+Nor are the Danes, the Poles, the Scots, nor the Turks at quiet, but
+are preparing to make dreadful havoc. The plague rages everywhere: in
+Spain, Britain, Italy, France; and, more than all, there is a new fire
+sprung out of the variety of opinions, which has so corrupted the minds
+of all men that there is no such thing as sincere friendship anywhere;
+but brother is at enmity with brother, and husband and wife cannot
+agree. And it is to be hoped that this distraction will be a glorious
+destruction of mankind, if these controversies, that are now managed by
+the tongue and pen, come once to be decided by arms.
+
+ALASTOR: All that fame has told you is true; for I myself, having been
+a constant companion of the Furies, have with these eyes seen more than
+all this, and that they never at any time have approved themselves more
+worthy of their name than now.
+
+CHARON: But there is danger lest some good spirit should start up and
+of a sudden exhort them to peace. And men's minds are variable, for
+I have heard that among the living there is one Polygraphus who is
+continually, by his writing, inveighing against wars, and exhorting to
+peace.
+
+ALASTOR: Ay, ay, but he has a long time been talking to the deaf. He
+once wrote a sort of hue and cry after peace, that was banished or
+driven away; after that an epitaph upon peace defunct. But then, on the
+other hand, there are others that advance our cause no less than do
+the Furies themselves. They are a sort of animals in black and white
+vestments, ash-coloured coats, and various other dresses, that are
+always hovering about the courts of the princes, and are continually
+instilling into their ears the love of war, and exhorting the nobility
+and common people to it, haranguing them in their sermons that it is a
+just, holy, and religious war. And that which would make you stand in
+admiration at the confidence of these men is the cry of both parties.
+In France they preach it up that God is on the French side, and that
+they can never be overcome that has God for their protector. In
+England and Spain the cry is, "The war is not the king's, but God's";
+therefore, if they do but fight like men, they depend on getting the
+victory, and if anyone should chance to fall in the battle, he will not
+die, but fly directly up into heaven, arms and all.
+
+
+
+
+In Praise of Folly
+
+  "The Praise of Folly" was written in Latin, and the title,
+  "Encomium Mori�," is a pun on the name of his friend, the Greek
+  word _moria_ (folly) curiously corresponding with his host's
+  family name. The purpose of this inimitable satire is to cover
+  every species of foolish men and women with ridicule. Yet through
+  all the biting sarcasm runs an unbroken vein of religious
+  seriousness, the contrast greatly enhancing the impression
+  produced by this masterpiece.
+
+
+_I.--Stultitia's Declamation_
+
+In whatever manner I, the Goddess of Folly, may be generally spoken of
+by mortals, yet I assert it emphatically that it is from me, Stultitia,
+and from my influence only, that gods and men derive all mirth and
+cheerfulness. You laugh, I see. Well, even that is a telling argument
+in my favour. Actually now, in this most numerous assembly, as soon as
+ever I have opened my mouth, the countenances of all have instantly
+brightened up with fresh and unwonted hilarity, whereas but a few
+moments ago you were all looking demure and woebegone.
+
+On my very brow my name is written. No one would take me, Stultitia,
+for Minerva. No one would contend that I am the Goddess of Wisdom. The
+mere expression of my countenance tells its own tale. Not only am I
+incapable of deceit, but even those who are under my sway are incapable
+of deceit likewise. From my illustrious sire, Plutus [Wealth], I glory
+to be sprung, for he, and no other, was the great progenitor of gods
+and men, and I care not what Hesiod, or Homer, or even Jupiter himself
+may maintain to the contrary. Everything, I affirm, is subjected to the
+control of Plutus. War, peace, empires, designs, judicial decisions,
+weddings, treaties, alliances, laws, arts, things ludicrous and things
+serious, are all administered in obedience to his sovereign will.
+
+Now notice the admirable foresight which nature exercises, in order
+to ensure that men shall never be destitute of folly as the principal
+ingredient in their constitution. Wisdom, as your divines and moralists
+put it, consists in men being guided by their reason; and folly, in
+their being actuated by their passions. See then here what Jupiter
+has done. In order to prevent the life of man from being utterly
+intolerable, he has endowed him with reason in singularly small
+proportion to his passions--only, so to speak, as a half-ounce is to a
+pound. And whereas he has dispersed his passions over every portion of
+his body, he has confined his reason to a narrow little crevice in his
+skull.
+
+And yet, of these silly human beings, the male sex is born under the
+necessity of transacting the business of the world. When Jupiter was
+taking counsel with me I advised him to add a woman to the man--a
+creature foolish and frivolous, but full of laughter and sweetness,
+who would season and sweeten by her folly the sadness of his manly
+intelligence.
+
+When Plato doubted whether or not he should place women in the class
+of rational animals, he really only wished to indicate the remarkable
+silliness of that sex. Yet women will not be so absolutely senseless as
+to be offended if I, a woman myself, the goddess Stultitia, tell them
+thus plainly that they are fools. They will, if they look at the matter
+aright, be flattered by it. For they are by many degrees more favoured
+creatures than men. They have beauty--and oh, what a gift is that! By
+its power they rule the rulers of the world.
+
+The supreme wish of women is to win the admiration of men, and they
+have no more effectual means to this end than folly. Men, no doubt,
+will contend that it is the pleasure they have in women's society, and
+not their folly, that attracts them. I answer that their pleasure is
+folly, and nothing but folly, in which they delight. You see, then,
+from what fountain is derived the highest and most exquisite enjoyment
+that falls to man's lot in life. But there are some men (waning old
+crones, most of them) who love their glasses better than the lasses,
+and place their chief delight in tippling. Others love to make fools
+of themselves to raise a laugh at a feast, and I beg to say that of
+laughter, fun, and pleasantry, I--Folly--am the sole purveyor.
+
+
+_II.--The Mockery of Wisdom_
+
+So much for the notion that wisdom is of any use in the pleasures of
+life. Well, the next thing that our gods of wisdom will assert is that
+wisdom is necessary for affairs of state. Says Plato, "Those states
+will prosper whose rulers are guided by the spirit of philosophy." With
+this opinion I totally disagree. Consult history, and it will tell you
+that the two Catos, Brutus, Cassius, the Gracchi, Cicero, and Marcus
+Antoninus all disturbed the tranquillity of the state and brought down
+on them by their philosophy the disgust and disfavour of the citizens.
+And who are the men who are most prone, from weariness of life, to
+seek to put an end to it? Why, men of reputed wisdom. Not to mention
+Diogenes, the Catos, the Cassii, and the Bruti, there is the remarkable
+case of Chiron, who, though he actually had immortality conferred on
+him, voluntarily preferred death.
+
+You see, then, that if men were universally wise, the world would be
+depopulated, and there would be need of a new creation. But, since the
+world generally is under the influence of folly and not of wisdom, the
+case is, happily, different. I, Folly, by inspiring men with hopes
+of good things they will never get, so charm away their woes that
+they are far from wishing to die. Nay, the less cause there is for
+them to desire to live, the more, nevertheless, do they love life. It
+is of my bounty that you see everywhere men of Nestorean longevity,
+mumbling, without brains, without teeth, whose hair is white, whose
+heads are bald, so enamoured of life, so eager to look youthful, that
+they use dyes, wigs, and other disguises, and take to wife some frisky
+heifer of a creature; while aged and cadaverous-looking women are seen
+caterwauling, and, as the Greeks express it, behaving goatishly, in
+order to induce some beauteous Phaon to pay court to them.
+
+As to the wisdom of the learned professions, the more empty-headed and
+the more reckless any member of any one of them is, the more he will be
+thought of. The physician is always in request, and yet medicine, as it
+is now frequently practised, is nothing but a system of pure humbug.
+Next in repute to the physicians stand the pettifogging lawyers, who
+are, according to the philosophers, a set of asses. And asses, I grant
+you that, they are. Nevertheless, it is by the will and pleasure of
+these asses that the business of the world is transacted, and they make
+fortunes while the poor theologians starve.
+
+By the immortal gods, I solemnly swear to you that the happiest men
+are those whom the world calls fools, simpletons, and blockheads. For
+they are entirely devoid of the fear of death. They have no accusing
+consciences to make them fear it. They are, happily, without the
+experience of the thousands of cares that lacerate the minds of other
+men. They feel no shame, no solicitude, no ambition, no envy, no love.
+And, according to the theologians, they are free from any imputation of
+the guilt of sin! Ah, ye besotted men of wisdom, you need no further
+evidence than the ills you have gone through to convince you from what
+a mass of calamities I have delivered my idiotic favourites.
+
+To be deceived, people say, is wretched. But I hold that what is most
+wretched is not to be deceived. They are in great error who imagine
+that a man's happiness consists in things as they are. No; it consists
+entirely in his opinion of what they are. Man is so constituted that
+falsehood is far more agreeable to him than truth.
+
+Does anyone need proof of this? Let him visit the churches, and
+assuredly he will find it. If solemn truth is dwelt on, the listeners
+at once become weary, yawn, and sleep; but if the orator begins some
+silly tale, they are all attention. And the saints they prefer to
+appeal to are those whose histories are most made up of fable and
+romance. Though to be deceived adds much more to your happiness than
+not to be deceived, it yet costs you much less trouble.
+
+And now to pass to another argument in my favour. Among all the praises
+of Bacchus this is the chief, that he drives away care; but he does it
+only for a short time, and then all your care comes again. How much
+more complete are the benefits mankind derive from me! I also afford
+them intoxication, but an intoxication whose influence is perennial,
+and all, too, without cost to them. And my favours I deny to nobody.
+Mars, Apollo, Saturn, Phoebus, and Neptune are more chary of their
+bounties and dole them out to their favourites only but I confine my
+favours to none.
+
+
+_III.--Classification of Fools_
+
+Of all the men whose doings I have witnessed, the most sordid are men
+of trade, and appropriately so, for they handle money, a very sordid
+thing indeed. Yet, though they lie, pilfer, cheat, and impose on
+everybody, as soon as they grow rich they are looked up to as princes.
+But as I look round among the various classes of men, I specially note
+those who are esteemed to possess more than ordinary sagacity. Among
+these a foremost place is occupied by the schoolmasters. How miserable
+would these be were it not that I, Folly, of my benevolence, ameliorate
+their wretchedness and render them insanely happy in the midst of their
+drudgery! Their lot is one of semi-starvation and of debasing slavery.
+In the schools, those bridewells of uproar and confusion, they grow
+prematurely old and broken down, Yet, thanks to my good services, they
+know not their own misery. For in their own estimation they are mighty
+fine fellows, strutting about and striking terror into the hearts of
+trembling urchins, half scarifying the little wretches with straps,
+canes, and birches. They are, apparently, quite unconscious of the dust
+and dirt with which their schoolrooms are polluted. In fact, their own
+most wretched servitude is to them a kingdom of felicity.
+
+The poets owe less to me. Yet they, too, are enthusiastic devotees of
+mine, for their entire business consists in tickling the ears of fools
+with silly ditties and ridiculously romantic tales. Of the services of
+my attendants, Philautia [Self-approbation] and Kolakia [Flattery],
+they never fail to avail themselves, and really I do not know that
+there is any other class of men in the world amongst whom I should find
+more devoted and constant followers.
+
+Moreover, there are the rhetoricians. Quintilian, the prince of them
+all, has written an immense chapter on no more serious subject than
+how to excite a laugh. Those, again, who hunt after immortal fame in
+the domain of literature unquestionably belong to my fraternity. Poor
+fellows! They pass a wretched existence poring over their manuscripts,
+and for what reward? For the praise of the very, very limited few who
+are capable of appreciating their erudition.
+
+Very naturally, the barristers merit our attention next. Talk of
+female garrulity! Why, I would back any one of them to win a prize for
+chattering against any twenty of the most talkative women that you
+could pick out. And well indeed would it be if they had no worse fault
+than that. I am bound to say that they are not only loquacious, but
+pugnacious. Their quarrelsomeness is astounding.
+
+After these come the bearded and gowned philosophers. Their insane
+self-deception as to their sagacity and learning is very delightful.
+They beguile their time with computing the magnitude of the sun,
+moon, and stars, and they assign causes for all the phenomena of the
+universe, as if nature had initiated them into all her secrets. In
+reality they know nothing, but profess to know everything.
+
+
+_IV.--On Princes and Pontiffs_
+
+It is high time that I should say a few words to you about kings and
+the royal princes belonging to their courts. Very different are they
+from those whom I have just been describing, who pretend to be wise
+when they are the reverse, for these high personages frankly and openly
+live a life of folly, and it is just that I should give them their
+due, and frankly and openly tell them so. They seem to regard it to be
+the duty of a king to addict himself to the chase; to keep up a grand
+stud of horses; to extract as much money as possible from the people;
+to caress by every means in his power the vulgar populace, in order to
+win their good graces, and so make them the subservient tools of his
+tyrannical behests.
+
+As for the grandees of the court, a more servile, insipid, empty-headed
+set than the generality of them you will fail to find anywhere. Yet
+they wish to be regarded as the greatest personalities on earth. Not a
+very modest wish, and yet, in one respect, they are modest enough. For
+instance, they wish to be bedecked with gold and gems and purple, and
+other external symbols of worth and wisdom, but nothing further do they
+require.
+
+These courtiers, however, are superlatively happy in the belief that
+they are perfectly virtuous. They lie in bed till noon. Then they
+summon their chaplain to their bedside to offer up the sacrifice of
+the mass, and as the hireling priest goes through his solemn farce
+with perfunctory rapidity, they, meanwhile, have all but dropped
+off again into a comfortable condition of slumber. After this they
+betake themselves to breakfast; and that is scarcely over when dinner
+supervenes. And then come their pastimes--their dice, their cards, and
+their gambling--their merriment with jesters and buffoons, and their
+gallantries with court favourites.
+
+Next let us turn our attention to popes, cardinals, and bishops, who
+have long rivalled, if they do not surpass, the state and magnificence
+of princes. If bishops did but bear in mind that a pastoral staff is an
+emblem of pastoral duties, and that the cross solemnly carried before
+them is a reminder of the earnestness with which they should strive
+to crucify the flesh, their lot would be one replete with sadness and
+solicitude. As things are, a right bonny time do they spend, providing
+abundant pasturage for themselves, and leaving their flocks to the
+negligent charge of so-called friars and vicars.
+
+Fortune favours the fool. We colloquially speak of him and such as him
+as "lucky birds," while, when we speak of a wise man, we proverbially
+describe him as one who has been "born under an evil star," and as one
+whose "horse will never carry him to the front." If you wish to get a
+wife, mind, above all things, that you beware of wisdom; for the girls,
+without exception, are heart and soul so devoted to fools, that you may
+rely on it a man who has any wisdom in him they will shun as they would
+a vampire.
+
+And now, to sum up much in a few words, go among what classes of men
+you will, go among popes, princes, cardinals, judges, magistrates,
+friends, foes, great men, little men, and you will not fail to find
+that a man with plenty of money at his command has it in his power to
+obtain everything that he sets his heart upon. A wise man, however,
+despises money. And what is the consequence? Everyone despises him!
+
+
+
+
+GESTA ROMANORUM
+
+A Story-Book of the Middle Ages
+
+  The "Gesta Romanorum," or "Deeds of the Romans," a quaint
+  collection of moral tales compiled by the monks, was used in
+  the Middle Ages for pulpit instruction. Hence the curious
+  "Applications" to the stories, two of which are here given as
+  examples. Wynkyn de Worde was the first to print the "Gesta" in
+  English, about 1510. His version is based on Latin manuscripts
+  of English origin, and differs from the first edition, and from
+  the Latin text printed abroad about 1473. The stories have
+  little to do with authentic Roman history, and abound in amusing
+  confusions, contradictions, and anachronisms. But their interest
+  is undeniable, and they form the source of many famous pieces of
+  English literature. In the English "Gesta" occur the originals of
+  the bond and casket incidents in "The Merchant of Venice."
+
+
+_I.--Of Love_
+
+Pompey was a wise and powerful king. He had one well-beloved daughter,
+who was very beautiful. Her he committed to the care of five soldiers,
+who were to guard her night and day. Before the door of the princess's
+chamber they hung a burning lamp, and, moreover, they kept a
+loud-barking dog to rouse them from sleep. But the lady panted for the
+pleasures of the world, and one day, looking abroad, she was espied by
+a certain amorous duke, who made her many fair promises.
+
+Hoping much from these, the princess slew the dog, put out the light,
+and fled by night with the duke. Now, there was in the palace a certain
+doughty champion, who pursued the fugitives and beheaded the duke. He
+brought the lady home again; but her father would not see her, and
+thenceforward she passed her time bewailing her misdeeds.
+
+Now, at court there was a wise and skilful mediator, who, being moved
+with compassion, reconciled the lady with her father and betrothed
+her to a powerful nobleman. The king then gave his daughter diverse
+gifts. These were a rich, flowing tunic inscribed with the words,
+"Forgiven. Sin no more"; and a golden coronet with the legend, "Thy
+dignity is from me." Her champion gave her a ring, engraved, "I have
+loved thee; learn thou to love." Likewise the mediator bestowed a ring,
+saying, "What have I done? How much? Why?" A third ring was given by
+the king's son, with the words: "Despise not thy nobility." A fourth
+ring, from her brother, bore the motto: "Approach! Fear not. I am thy
+brother." Her husband gave a golden coronet, confirming his wife in
+the inheritance of his possessions, and superscribed: "Now thou are
+espoused, sin no more."
+
+The lady kept these gifts as long as she lived. She regained the
+affections of those whom her folly had estranged, and closed her days
+in peace.
+
+
+APPLICATION
+
+My beloved, the king is our Heavenly Father; the daughter is the soul;
+the guardian soldiers are the five senses; the lamp is the will; the
+dog is conscience; the duke is the Evil One. The mediator is Christ.
+The cloak is our Lord's wounded body. The champion and the brother are
+likewise Christ; the coronet is His crown of thorns; the rings are the
+wounds in His hands and feet. He is also the Spouse. Let us study to
+keep these gifts uninjured.
+
+
+_II.--Of Fidelity_
+
+The subject of a certain king, being captured by pirates, wrote to
+his father for ransom; but the father refused, and the youth was
+left wasting in prison. Now, his captor had a beautiful and virtuous
+daughter, who came to comfort the prisoner. At first he was too
+disconsolate to listen to her, but at length he begged her to try
+to set him free. The lady feared her father's wrath, but at last, on
+promise of marriage, she freed the young man, and fled with him to his
+own country. His father said, "Son, I am overjoyed at thy return, but
+who is the lady under thy escort?"
+
+When his son told him, he charged him, on pain of losing his
+inheritance, not to marry her.
+
+"But she released me from deadly peril," said the youth.
+
+The father answered, "Son, thou mayest not confide in her, for she hath
+deceived her own father; and, furthermore, although she indeed set
+thee free, it was but to oblige thee to marry her. And since it was an
+unworthy passion that was the source of thy liberty, I think that she
+ought not to be thy wife."
+
+When the lady heard these reasons, she answered thus, "I have not
+deceived my parent. He that deceives diminishes a certain good. But my
+father is so rich that he needs not any addition. Wherefore, your son's
+ransom would have left him but little richer, while you it would have
+utterly impoverished. I have thus served you, and done my father no
+injury. As for unworthy passion, that arises from wealth, honours, or a
+handsome appearance, none of which your son possessed, for he had not
+even enough to procure his ransom, and imprisonment had destroyed his
+beauty. Therefore, I freed him out of compassion."
+
+When the father heard this, he could object nothing more. So the son
+married the lady with great pomp, and closed his life in peace.
+
+
+APPLICATION
+
+My beloved, the son is the human race, led captive by the devil. The
+father is the world, that will not redeem the sinner, but loves to
+detain him. The daughter is Christ.
+
+
+_III.--O Venial Sin_
+
+Julian, a noble soldier, fond of the chase, was one day pursuing a
+stag, which turned and addressed him thus, "Thou who pursuest me so
+fiercely shalt one day destroy thy parents."
+
+In great alarm, Julian sought a far country, where he enlisted with a
+certain chieftain. For his renowned services in war and peace he was
+made a knight, and wedded to the widow of a castellan, with her castle
+as a dowry.
+
+Meanwhile, his parents sought him sorrowing, and coming at length to
+Julian's castle in his absence, they told his wife their story. The
+lady, for the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and
+early in the morning went forth to her devotions. Julian returned, and
+softly entering his wife's apartment, saw two persons therein, and was
+filled with terrible alarm for his lady's fealty.
+
+Without pause, he slew both, and hurried out. Meeting his wife in the
+church porch, he fell into amazement, and asked who they might be.
+Hearing the truth, he was shaken with an agony of tears, and cried,
+"Accursed that I am! Dearest wife, forgive, and receive my last
+farewell!"
+
+"Nay," she replied. "Wilt thou abandon me, beloved, and leave me
+widowed? I, that have shared thy happiness will now share thy grief!"
+
+Together they departed to a great and dangerous river, where many had
+perished. There they built a hospital, where they abode in contrition,
+ferrying over such as wished to cross the river, and cherishing the
+poor. After many years, Julian was aroused at midnight by a dolorous
+voice calling his name. He found and ferried over a leper, perishing
+with cold. Failing to warm the wretch by other means, Julian placed
+him in his own bed, and strove by the heat of his own body to restore
+him. After a while he who seemed sick and cold and leprous appeared
+robed in immortal splendour, and, waving his light wings, seemed ready
+to mount up into heaven. Turning upon his wondering host a look of the
+utmost benignity, the visitant exclaimed, "Julian, the Lord hath sent
+me to thee to announce the acceptance of thy contrition. Ere long thou
+and thy partner will sleep in Him."
+
+So saying, the angelic messenger disappeared, and Julian and his wife,
+after a short time occupied in good works, died in peace.
+
+
+_IV.--Of the End of Sinners_
+
+Dionysius records that Perillus, wishing to become the artificer of
+Phalaris, the cruel tyrant of Agrigentum, presented him with a brazen
+bull. In its side was a secret door, for the entry of those who should
+be burned to death within. The idea was that the agonised cries of the
+victim, resembling the roaring of a bull and nothing human, should
+arouse no feeling of mercy. The king, highly applauding the invention,
+said, "Friend, the value of thy industry is still untried; more cruel
+even than the people account me, thou thyself shalt be the first
+victim."
+
+There is no law more equitable than that "the artificer of death should
+perish by his own devices," as Ovid hath observed.
+
+
+_V.--Of Too Much Pride_
+
+As the Emperor Jovinian lay abed, reflecting on his power and
+possessions, he impiously asked, "Is there any other god than I?"
+
+Amid such thoughts he fell asleep.
+
+Now, on the morrow, as he followed the chase, he separated himself
+from his followers in order to bathe in a stream. And as he bathed, one
+like him in all respects took the emperor's dress, and arraying himself
+in them, mounted the monarch's horse, and joined the royal retinue,
+who knew him not from their master. Jovinian, horseless and naked, was
+vexed beyond measure.
+
+"Miserable that I am," he exclaimed, "I will to a knight who lives
+hard by. Him have I promoted; haply he will befriend me." But when he
+declared himself to be Jovinian, the knight ordered him to be flogged.
+"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the emperor, "is it possible that one whom I
+have loaded with honours should use me thus?"
+
+Next he sought out a certain duke, one of his privy counsellors, and
+told his tale.
+
+"Poor, mad wretch," said the duke. "I am but newly returned from the
+palace, where I left the emperor."
+
+He therefore had Jovinian flogged, and imprisoned. Contriving to
+escape, he went to the palace. "Surely," he reflected, "my servants
+will know me." But his own porter denied him. Nevertheless, he
+persuaded the man to take a secret sign to the empress, and to demand
+his imperial robes. The empress, sitting at table with the feigned
+emperor, was much disturbed, and said, "Oh, my lord, there is a vile
+fellow at the gate who declares the most hidden passages of our life,
+and says he is my husband."
+
+Being condemned to be dragged by a horse's tail, Jovinian, in despair,
+sought his confessor's cell. But the holy man would not open to him,
+although at last, being adjured by the name of the Crucified, he gave
+him shrift at the window. Thereupon he knew the emperor, and giving him
+some clothes, bade him show himself again at the palace. This he did,
+and was received with due obeisance. Still, none knew which was the
+emperor, and which the impostor, until the feigned emperor spake.
+
+"I," said he, "am the guardian angel of the king's soul. He has now
+purged his pride by penance; let your obedience wait on him."
+
+So saying, he disappeared. The emperor gave thanks to God, lived
+happily after, and finished his days in peace.
+
+
+_VI.--Of Avarice_
+
+A covetous and wicked carpenter placed all his riches in a log, which
+he hid by his fireside. Now, the sea swept away that part of his house,
+and drifted the log to a city where lived a generous man. He found the
+log, cleft it, and laid the gold in a secure place until he should
+discover the owner.
+
+Now, the carpenter, seeking his wealth with lamentations, came by
+chance to the house of him that had found it. Mentioning his loss, his
+host said to himself, "I will prove if God will that I return his money
+to him." He then made three cakes, one filled with earth, the second
+with dead men's bones, and the third with some of the lost gold. The
+carpenter, being invited to choose, weighed the cakes in his hand, and
+finding that with earth heaviest, took it.
+
+"And if I want more, my worthy host," said he, "I will choose that,"
+laying his hand on the cake containing the bones. "The third you may
+keep for yourself."
+
+"Thou miserable varlet," cried the host. "It is thine own gold, which
+plainly the Lord wills not that I return to thee."
+
+So saying, he distributed all the treasure among the poor, and drove
+the carpenter away from his house in great tribulation.
+
+
+_VII.--Of Temporary Tribulation_
+
+Antiochus, king of Antioch, had one lovely daughter, who was much
+courted. But her father, seeking to withhold her from marriage,
+proposed a riddle to every suitor, and each one who failed to guess the
+answer was put to death. Among the suitors came Apollonius, the young
+Prince of Tyre, who guessed the riddle, the answer to which revealed a
+shameful secret of the king's life. Antiochus, loudly denying that the
+young man had hit upon the truth, sent him away for thirty days, and
+bade him try again, on pain of death. So Apollonius departed.
+
+Now, Antiochus sent his steward, Taliarchus, to Tyre, with orders to
+destroy Apollonius; but by the time the steward arrived the prince had
+put to sea in a fleet laden with treasure, corn, and many changes of
+raiment. Hearing this, Antiochus set a price on the head of Apollonius,
+and pursued him with a great armament. The prince, arriving at Tharsus,
+saved that city from famine by the supplies he brought, and a statue
+was raised in his honour. Then, by the advice of one Stranguilio and
+his wife, Dionysias, he sailed to Pentapolis. On the way he suffered
+shipwreck, and reached that city on a plank. There, by his skill in
+athletics and music, he won the favour of Altistrates, the king, who
+gave him his daughter to wife.
+
+Some time after, hearing that the wicked Antiochus and his daughter
+had been killed by lightning, Apollonius and his wife set sail to take
+up the sovereignty of Antioch, which had fallen to him. On the way the
+lady died, leaving a new-born daughter. The prince placed his wife's
+body in a coffin smeared with pitch, and committed it to the deep. In
+the coffin he put money and a tablet, instructing anyone who found the
+body to bury it sumptuously. Apollonius returned to Pentapolis and
+gave his infant daughter into the care of Stranguilio and Dionysias.
+Then he himself sailed away and wandered the world in deep grief. In
+the meantime, his wife's body was cast up at Ephesus, and was found by
+the physician Cerimon, one of whose pupils revived the lady, who became
+a vestal of Diana.
+
+Years passed, and the child, who was called Tharsia, incurred the
+jealousy of Dionysias, because she was fairer than her own child
+Philomatia. Dionysias sought to kill Tharsia, who, at the critical
+moment, was carried away by pirates, and sold into slavery at
+Machylena. There her beauty and goodness protected her, so that none
+who came to her master's evil house would do her wrong. She persuaded
+her owner to let her earn her bread by her accomplishments in music and
+the unravelling of hard sayings. Thus she won the love of the prince of
+that place, Athanagoras, who protected her.
+
+Some time afterwards a strange fleet came to Machylena. Athanagoras,
+struck by the beauty of one of the ships, went on board, and asked to
+see the owner. He found a rugged and melancholy man, who was none other
+than Apollonius. In due time that prince was joyfully reunited with his
+child, who was given in marriage to her perserver. Speedy vengeance
+overtook Tharsia's cruel owner, and later Stranguilio and Dionysias
+suffered for their misdeeds. Being warned by a dream to return to
+Ephesus, Apollonius found his wife in the precinct of the vestals, and,
+together with her, he reigned long and happily over Antioch and Tyre.
+After death he went into everlasting life. To which may God, of His
+infinite mercy, lead us all.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH
+
+The Citizen of the World
+
+  "The Citizen of the World," after appearing in the "Public
+  Ledger" newspaper in 1760-61, was published in two volumes in
+  1762, with the sub-title, "Letters from a Chinese Philosopher,
+  Residing in London, to his Friends in the East." It established
+  Goldsmith's literary reputation (see Vol. IV, p. 275). The
+  author's main purpose was to indulge in a keen, but not
+  ill-natured, satire upon Western, and especially upon English,
+  civilisation; but sometimes the satiric manner yields place to
+  the philosophical.
+
+
+_The Troubles of the Great_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM, FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE CEREMONIAL
+ACADEMY AT PEKIN
+
+The princes of Europe have found out a manner of rewarding their
+subjects who have behaved well, by presenting them with about two
+yards of blue ribbon, which is worn over the shoulder. They who are
+honoured with this mark of distinction are called knights, and the king
+himself is always the head of the order. This is a very frugal method
+of recompensing the most important services, and it is very fortunate
+for kings that their subjects are satisfied with such trifling rewards.
+Should a nobleman happen to lose his leg in battle, the king presents
+him with two yards of ribbon, and he is paid for the loss of his limb.
+Should an ambassador spend all his paternal fortunes in supporting the
+honour of his country abroad, the king presents him with two yards of
+ribbon, which is to be considered as an equivalent to his estate. In
+short, while a European king has a yard of blue or green ribbon left,
+he need be under no apprehension of wanting statesmen, generals, and
+soldiers.
+
+I cannot sufficiently admire those kingdoms in which men with large
+patrimonial estates are willing thus to undergo real hardships for
+empty favours. A person, already possessed of a competent fortune,
+who undertakes to enter the career of ambition feels many real
+inconveniences from his station, while it procures him no real
+happiness that he was not possessed of before. He could eat, drink, and
+sleep before he became a courtier, as well, perhaps better, than when
+invested with his authority.
+
+What real good, then, does an addition to a fortune already sufficient
+procure? Not any. Could the great man, by having his fortune increased,
+increase also his appetite, then precedence might be attended with real
+amusement. But, on the contrary, he finds his desire for pleasure often
+lessen as he takes pains to be able to improve it; and his capacity of
+enjoyment diminishes as his fortune happens to increase.
+
+Instead, therefore, of regarding the great with envy, I generally
+consider them with some share of compassion. I look upon them as a set
+of good-natured, misguided people, who are indebted to us, and not to
+themselves, for all the happiness they enjoy. For our pleasure, and
+not their own, they sweat under a cumbrous heap of finery; for our
+pleasure, the hackneyed train, the slow-parading pageant, with all
+the gravity of grandeur, moves in review; a single coat, or a single
+footman, answers all the purposes of the most indolent refinement as
+well; and those who have twenty may be said to keep one for their own
+pleasure, and the other nineteen for ours. So true is the observation
+of Confucius, "That we take greater pains to persuade others that we
+are happy than in endeavouring to think so ourselves."
+
+But though this desire of being seen, of being made the subject of
+discourse, and of supporting the dignities of an exalted station,
+be troublesome to the ambitious, yet it is well that there are men
+thus willing to exchange ease and safety for danger and a ribbon. We
+lose nothing by their vanity, and it would be unkind to endeavour to
+deprive a child of its rattle.... Adieu.
+
+
+_The Folly of the Recluse_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO HINGPO, HIS SON
+
+Books, my son, while they teach us to respect the interests of others,
+often make us unmindful of our own; while they instruct the youthful
+reader to grasp at social happiness, he grows miserable in detail. I
+dislike, therefore, the philosopher, who describes the inconveniences
+of life in such pleasing colours that the pupil grows enamoured of
+distress, longs to try the charms of poverty, meets it without dread,
+nor fears its inconveniences till he severely feels them.
+
+A youth who has thus spent his life among books, new to the world,
+and unacquainted with man but by philosophic information, may be
+considered as a being whose mind is filled with the vulgar errors of
+the wise. He first has learned from books, and then lays it down as
+a maxim that all mankind are virtuous or vicious in excess; warm,
+therefore, in attachments, and steadfast in enmity, he treats every
+creature as a friend or foe. Upon a closer inspection of human nature
+he perceives that he should have moderated his friendship, and softened
+his severity; he finds no character so sanctified that has not its
+failings, none so infamous but has somewhat to attract our esteem; he
+beholds impiety in lawn, and fidelity in fetters.
+
+He now, therefore, but too late, perceives that his regards should have
+been more cool, and his hatred less violent; that the truly wise seldom
+court romantic friendships with the good, and avoid, if possible, the
+resentment even of the wicked; every movement gives him fresh instances
+that the bonds of friendship are broken if drawn too closely, and that
+those whom he has treated with disrespect more than retaliate the
+injury; at length, therefore, he is obliged to confess that he has
+declared war upon the vicious half of mankind, without being able to
+form an alliance among the virtuous to espouse his quarrel.
+
+Our book-taught philosopher, however, is now too far advanced to
+recede; and though poverty be the just consequence of the many
+enemies his conduct has created, yet he is resolved to meet it
+without shrinking. "Come, then, O Poverty! for what is there in thee
+dreadful to the Wise? Temperance, Health, and Frugality walk in thy
+train; Cheerfulness and Liberty are ever thy companions. Come, then,
+O Poverty, while kings stand by, and gaze with admiration at the true
+philosopher's resignation!"
+
+The goddess appears, for Poverty ever comes at the call; but, alas!
+he finds her by no means the charming figure books and his warm
+imagination had painted. All the fabric of enthusiasm is at once
+demolished, and a thousand miseries rise upon its ruins, while
+Contempt, with pointing finger, is foremost in the hideous procession.
+
+The poor man now finds that he can get no kings to look at him while
+he is eating; he finds that, in proportion as he grows poor, the world
+turns its back upon him, and gives him leave to act the philosopher
+in all the majesty of solitude. Spleen now begins to take up the man;
+not distinguishing in his resentments, he regards all mankind with
+detestation, and commencing man-hater, seeks solitude to be at liberty
+to rail.
+
+It has been said that he who retires to solitude is either a beast
+or an angel. The censure is too severe, and the praise unmerited;
+the discontented being who retires from society is generally some
+good-natured man, who has begun life without experience, and knew not
+how to gain it in his intercourse with mankind. Adieu.
+
+
+_On Mad Dogs_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM
+
+Indulgent Nature seems to have exempted this island from many of those
+epidemic evils which are so fatal in other parts of the world. But
+though the nation be exempt from real evils, think not, my friend, that
+it is more happy on this account than others. They are afflicted, it is
+true, with neither famine nor pestilence, but then there is a disorder
+peculiar to the country, which every season makes strange ravages
+among them; it spreads with pestilential rapidity, and infects almost
+every rank of people; what is still more strange, the natives have no
+name for this peculiar malady, though well enough known to foreign
+physicians by the name of epidemic terror.
+
+A season is never known to pass in which the people are not visited
+by this cruel calamity in one shape or another, seemingly different,
+though ever the same. The people, when once infected, lose their relish
+for happiness, saunter about with looks of despondence, ask after the
+calamities of the day, and receive no comfort but in heightening each
+other's distress. A dread of mad dogs is the epidemic terror which now
+prevails, and the whole nation is at present actually groaning under
+the malignity of its influence.
+
+It is pleasant enough for a neutral being like me, who have no share in
+these ideal calamities, to mark the stages of this national disease.
+The terror at first feebly enters with a little dog that had gone
+through a neighbouring village, that was thought to be mad by several
+who had seen him. The next account comes that a mastiff ran through
+a certain town, and had bit five geese, which immediately ran mad,
+foamed at the bill, and died in great agonies soon after. Then comes an
+affecting history of a little boy bit in the leg, and gone down to be
+dipped in the salt water; when the people have sufficiently shuddered
+at that, they are next congealed with a frightful account of a man who
+was said lately to have died from a bite he had received some years
+before.
+
+My landlady, a good-natured woman, but a little credulous, waked me
+some mornings ago, before the usual hour, with horror and astonishment
+in her looks; she desired me, if I had any regard for my safety, to
+keep within, for a few days ago so dismal an accident had happened as
+to put all the world upon their guard. A mad dog down in the country,
+she assured me, had bit a farmer who, soon becoming mad, ran into his
+own yard, and bit a fine brindled cow; the cow quickly became as mad
+as the man, began to foam at the mouth, and raising herself up, walked
+about on her hind legs, sometimes barking like a dog, and sometimes
+attempting to talk like the farmer.
+
+Were most stories of this nature thoroughly examined, it would be
+found that numbers of such as have been said to suffer were in no way
+injured; and that of those who have been actually bitten, not one in a
+hundred was bit by a mad dog. Such accounts in general, therefore, only
+serve to make the people miserable by false terrors.
+
+Of all the beasts that graze the lawn or hunt the forest, a dog is
+the only animal that, leaving his fellows, attempts to cultivate the
+friendship of man; no injuries can abate his fidelity; no distress
+induce him to forsake his benefactor; studious to please and fearing to
+offend, he is still an humble, steadfast dependent, and in him alone
+fawning is not flattery. How unkind, then, to torture this faithful
+creature who has left the forest to claim the protection of man! How
+ungrateful a return to the trusty animal for all his services! Adieu.
+
+
+_On Elections_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM
+
+The English are at present employed in celebrating a feast, which
+becomes general every seventh year: the parliament of the nation being
+then dissolved, and another appointed to be chosen. This solemnity
+falls infinitely short of our Feast of the Lanterns in magnificence and
+splendour; it is also surpassed by others of the East in unanimity and
+pure devotion; but no festival in the world can compare with it for
+eating.
+
+To say the truth, eating seems to make a grand ingredient in all
+English parties of zeal, business, or amusement. When a church is to be
+built, or an hospital endowed, the directors assemble, and instead of
+consulting upon it, they eat upon it, by which means the business goes
+forward with success. When the poor are to be relieved, the officers
+appointed to dole out public charity assemble and eat upon it. Nor has
+it ever been known that they filled the bellies of the poor till they
+had satisfied their own. But in the election of magistrates the people
+seem to exceed all bounds.
+
+What amazes me is that all this good living no way contributes to
+improve their good humour. On the contrary, they seem to lose their
+temper as they lose their appetites; every morsel they swallow, and
+every glass they pour down, serves to increase their animosity.
+Upon one of these occasions I have actually seen a bloody-minded
+man-milliner sally forth at the head of a mob, to face a desperate
+pastrycook, who was general of the opposite party.
+
+I lately made an excursion to a neighbouring village, in order to be
+a spectator of the ceremonies practised. Mixing with the crowd, I was
+conducted to the hall where the magistrates are chosen; but what tongue
+can describe this scene of confusion! The whole crowd seemed equally
+inspired with anger, jealousy, politics, patriotism, and punch. I
+remarked one figure that was carried up by two men upon this occasion.
+I at first began to pity his infirmities as natural, but soon found the
+fellow so drunk that he could not stand; another made his appearance
+to give his vote, but though he could stand, he actually lost the use
+of his tongue, and remained silent; a third, who, though excessively
+drunk, could both stand and speak, being asked the candidate's name
+for whom he voted, could be prevailed upon to make no other answer but
+"Tobacco and brandy!" In short, an election-hall seems to be a theatre,
+where every passion is seen without disguise; a school where fools may
+readily become worse, and where philosophers may gather wisdom. Adieu.
+
+
+_Opinions and Anecdotes_
+
+The most ignorant nations have always been found to think most highly
+of themselves.
+
+It may sound fine in the mouth of a declaimer, when he talks of
+subduing our appetites, of teaching every sense to be content with
+a bare sufficiency, and of supplying only the wants of nature; but
+is there not more satisfaction in indulging these appetites, if with
+innocence and safety, than in restraining them? Am I not better pleased
+in enjoyment, than in the sullen satisfaction of thinking that I can
+live without enjoyment?
+
+When five brethren had set upon the great Emperor Guisong, alone
+with his sabre he slew four of them; he was struggling with the
+fifth, when his guards, coming up, were going to cut the conspirator
+into a thousand pieces. "No, no!" cried the emperor, with a placid
+countenance. "Of all his brothers he is the only one remaining; at
+least let one of the family be suffered to live, that his aged parents
+may have somebody left to feed and comfort them."
+
+It was a fine saying of Nangfu the emperor, who, being told that his
+enemies had raised an insurrection in one of the distant provinces,
+said: "Come, then, my friends, follow me, and I promise you that
+we shall quickly destroy them." He marched forward, and the rebels
+submitted upon his approach. All now thought that he would take the
+most signal revenge, but were surprised to see the captives treated
+with mildness and humanity. "How!" cries his first minister, "is this
+the manner in which you fulfil your promise? Your royal word was given
+that your enemies should be destroyed, and behold, you have pardoned
+all, and even caressed some!" "I promised," replied the emperor, with a
+generous air, "to destroy my _enemies_; I have fulfilled my word, for
+see, they are enemies no longer; I have made _friends_ of them."
+
+Well it were if rewards and mercy alone could regulate the
+commonwealth; but since punishments are sometimes necessary, let them
+at least be rendered terrible, by being executed but seldom; and let
+justice lift her sword rather to terrify than revenge.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY HALLAM
+
+Introduction to the Literature of Europe
+
+  The full volume of this work, "Introduction to the Literature of
+  Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries,"
+  was published about 1837, and is a vast accumulation of facts,
+  but is lacking in organic unity, in vigour, and vitality.
+  Hallam's spelling of proper names has been followed throughout
+  this epitome. (Henry Hallam, biography; see Vol. XI, p. 255.)
+
+
+_I.--Before the Fifteenth Century_
+
+The establishment of the barbarian nations on the ruins of the Roman
+Empire in the West was followed by an almost universal loss of
+classical learning. The last of the ancients, and one who forms a link
+with the Middle Ages, is Bo�thius, whose "Consolation of Philosophy"
+mingles a Christian sanctity with the lessons of Greek and Roman sages.
+But after his death, in 524, the downfall of learning and eloquence was
+inconceivably rapid, and a state of general ignorance, except here and
+there within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, lasted for five centuries.
+
+The British islands led the way in the slow restoration of knowledge.
+The Irish monasteries, in the seventh century, were the first to send
+out men of comparative eminence, and the Venerable Bede, in the eighth
+century, was probably superior to any other man whom the world at that
+time possessed. Then came the days when Charlemagne laid in his vast
+dominions the foundations of learning.
+
+In the tenth century, when England and Italy alike were in the most
+deplorable darkness, France enjoyed an age of illumination, and a
+generation or two later we find many learned and virtuous churchmen
+in Germany. But it is not until the twelfth century that we enter
+on a new epoch in European literary history, when universities were
+founded, modern languages were cultivated, the study of Roman law was
+systematically taken up, and a return was made to a purer Latinity.
+
+Next, we observe the rise of the scholastic theology and philosophy,
+with their strenuous attempt at an alliance between faith and
+reason. The dry and technical style of these enquiries, their minute
+subdivisions of questions, and their imposing parade of accuracy,
+served indeed to stimulate subtlety of mind, but also hindered the
+revival of polite literature and the free expansion of the intellect.
+
+Dante and Petrarch are the morning stars of the modern age. They lie
+outside our period, and we must pass them over with a word. It is
+sufficient to notice that, largely by their influence, we find, in
+the year 1400, a national literature existing in no less than seven
+European languages--three in the Spanish peninsula, the French, the
+Italian, the German, and the English.
+
+
+_II.--The Fifteenth Century_
+
+We now come to a very important event--the resuscitation of the study
+of Greek in Italy. In 1423, Giovanni Aurispa, of Sicily, brought
+over two hundred manuscripts from Greece, including Plato, Plotinus,
+Diodorus, Pindar, and many other classics. Manuel Chrysoloras, teacher
+of Greek in Florence, had trained a school of Hellenists; and copyists,
+translators, and commentators set to work upon the masterpieces of
+the ancient world. We have good reason to doubt whether, without the
+Italians of those times, the revival of classical learning would ever
+have occurred. The movement was powerfully aided by Nicolas V., pope
+in 1447, who founded the Vatican library, supported scholars, and
+encouraged authors.
+
+Soon after 1450, the art of printing began to be applied to the
+purposes of useful learning, and Bibles, classical texts, collections
+of fables; and other works were rapidly given to the world. The
+accession to power of Lorenzo de Medici in 1464 marks the revival of
+native Italian genius in poetry, and under his influence the Platonic
+academy, founded by his grandfather Cosmo, promoted a variety of
+studies. But we still look in vain to England for either learning or
+native genius. The reign of Edward IV. is one of the lowest points in
+our literary annals.
+
+In France, the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," 1486, and the poems of
+Villon, 1489, show a marked advance in style. Many French "mysteries,"
+or religious dramas, belong to this period, and this early form of the
+dramatic art had also much popularity in Germany and in Italy. Literary
+activity, in France and in Germany, had become regularly progressive by
+the end of the century.
+
+Two men, Erasmus and Bud�us, were now devoting incessant labour, in
+Paris, to the study of Greek; and a gleam of light broke out even in
+England, where William Grocyn began, in 1491, to teach that language in
+Oxford. On his visit to England, in 1497, Erasmus was delighted with
+everything he found, and gave unbounded praise to the scholarship of
+Grocyn, Colet, Linacre, and the young Thomas More.
+
+The fifteenth century was a period of awakening and of strenuous
+effort. But if we ask what monuments of its genius and erudition still
+receive homage, we can give no very triumphant answer. Of the books
+then written, how few are read now!
+
+
+_III.--The Sixteenth Century (1500-1550)_
+
+In the early years of this century the press of Aldus Manutius, who had
+settled in Venice in 1489, was publishing many texts of the classics,
+Greek as well as Latin.
+
+It was at this time that the regular drama was first introduced into
+Europe. "Calandra," the earliest modern comedy, was presented at
+Venice in 1508, and about the same time the Spanish tragi-comedy of
+"Calisto and Meliboea" was printed. The pastoral romance, also, made
+its appearance in Portugal; and the "Arcadia," 1502, by the Italian
+Sannazaro, a work of this class, did much to restore the correctness
+and elegance of Italian prose. Peter Bembo's "Asolani," 1505, a
+dialogue on love, has also been thought to mark an epoch in Italian
+literature. At the same time, William Dunbar, with his "Thistle and
+Rose," 1503, and his allegorical "Golden Targe," was leading the van of
+British poetry.
+
+The records of voyages of discovery begin to take a prominent place.
+The old travels of Marco Polo, as well as those of Sir John Mandeville,
+and the "Cosmography" of Ptolemy, had been printed in the previous
+century; but the stupendous discoveries of the close of that age now
+fell to be told. The voyages of Cadamosto, a Venetian, in Western
+Africa, appeared in 1507; and those of Amerigo Vespucci, entitled
+"Mondo Nuovo," in the same year. An epistle of Columbus himself had
+been printed in Germany about 1493.
+
+Leo X., who became pope in 1513, placed men of letters in the most
+honourable stations of his court, and was the munificent patron of
+poets, scholars, and printers. Rucellai's "Rosmunda," a tragedy played
+before Leo in 1515, was the earliest known trial of blank verse. The
+"Sophonisba" of Trissino, published in 1524, a play written strictly
+on the Greek model, had been acted some years before. Two comedies by
+Ariosto were presented about 1512.
+
+Meanwhile, the printing press became very active in Paris, Basle,
+and Germany, chiefly in preparing works for the use of students in
+universities. But in respect of learning, we have the testimony of
+Erasmus that neither France, nor Germany, stood so high as England. In
+Scotland, boys were being taught Latin in school; and the translation
+of the �neid by Gawin Douglas, completed about 1513, shows, by its
+spirit and fidelity, the degree of scholarship in the north. The only
+work of real genius which England can claim in this age is the "Utopia"
+of Sir Thomas More, first printed in 1516.
+
+Erasmus diffuses a lustre over his age, which no other name among the
+learned supplies. About 1517, he published an enlarged edition of his
+"Adages," which displays a surprising intimacy with Greek and Roman
+literature. The most remarkable of them, in every sense, are those
+which reflect with excessive bitterness on kings and priests. Erasmus
+knew that the regular clergy were not to be conciliated, and resolved
+to throw away the scabbard; and his invectives against kings proceeded
+from a just sense of the oppression of Europe in that age by ambitious
+and selfish rulers.
+
+We are now brought by necessary steps to the great religious revolution
+known as the Reformation, with which we are only concerned in so far
+as it modified the history of literature. In all his dispute, Luther
+was sustained by a prodigious force of popular opinion; and the German
+nation was so fully awakened to the abuses of the Church that, if
+neither Luther nor Zwingli had ever been born, a great religious schism
+was still at hand. Erasmus, who had so manifestly prepared the way for
+the new reformers, continued, beyond the year 1520, favourable to their
+cause. But some of Luther's tenets he did not and could not approve;
+and he was already disgusted by that intemperance of language which
+soon led him to secede entirely from the Protestant side.
+
+The laws of synchronism bring strange partners together, and we
+may pass at once from Luther to Ariosto, whose "Orlando Furioso"
+was printed at Ferrara in 1516. Ariosto has been, after Homer, the
+favourite poet of Europe. His grace and facility, his clear and rapid
+stream of language, his variety of invention, left him no rival.
+
+No edition of "Amadis de Gaul" has been proved to exist before that
+printed at Seville in 1519. This famous romance was translated into
+French between 1540 and 1557, and into English by Munday in 1619.
+
+A curious dramatic performance was represented in Paris in 1511, and
+published in 1516. It is entitled "Le Prince des Sots et la M�re
+sotte," by Peter Gringore; its chief aim was to ridicule the Pope and
+the court of Rome. Hans Sachs, a shoemaker of Nuremberg, produced his
+first carnival play in 1517. The English poets Hawes and Skelton fall
+within this period.
+
+From 1520 to 1550, Italy, where the literature of antiquity had been
+first cultivated, still retained her superiority in the fine perception
+of its beauties, but the study was proceeding also elsewhere in Europe.
+Few books of that age give us more insight into its literary history
+and the public taste than the "Circeronianus" of Erasmus, against which
+Scaliger wrote with unmannerly invective. The same period of thirty
+years is rich with poets, among whom are the Spanish Mendoza, the
+Portuguese Ribero, Marot in France, many hymn-writers in Germany; and
+in England, Wyatt and Surrey. At this time also, Spain was forming its
+national theatre, chiefly under the influence of Lope de Rueda and of
+Torres Naharro, the inventor of Spanish comedy. The most celebrated
+writer of fiction in this age is Rabelais, than whom few have greater
+fertility of language and imagination.
+
+
+_IV.--The Sixteenth Century (1550-1600)_
+
+Montaigne's "Essays," which first appeared at Bordeaux in 1580, make
+an epoch in literature, being the first appeal from the academy to the
+haunts of busy and idle men; and this delightful writer had a vast
+influence on English and French literature in the succeeding age.
+
+Turning now to the Italian poets of our period, we find that most of
+them are feeble copyists of Petrarch, whose style Bembo had rendered so
+popular. Casa, Costanzo, Baldi, Celio Magno, Bernardino Rota, Gaspara
+Stampa, Bernado Tasso, father of the great Tasso, Peter Aretin, and
+Firenzuola, flourished at this time. The "Jerusalem" of Torquato Tasso
+is the great epic of modern times; it is read with pleasure in almost
+every canto, though the native melancholy of Tasso tinges all his poem.
+It was no sooner published than it was weighed against the "Orlando
+Furioso," and Europe has not yet agreed which scale inclines.
+
+Spanish poetry is adorned by Luis Ponce de Leon, born in 1527, a
+religious and mystical lyric poet. The odes of Herrera have a lyric
+elevation and richness of phrase, derived from the study of Pindar
+and of the Old Testament. Castillejo, playful and witty, attempted to
+revive the popular poetry, and ridiculed the imitators of Petrarch.
+
+The great Camoens had now arisen in Portugal; his "Lusiad," written
+in praise of the Lusitanian people, is the mirror of his loving,
+courageous, generous, and patriotic heart. Camoens is the chief
+Portuguese poet in this age, and possibly in every other.
+
+This was an age of verse in France. Pierre Ronsard, Amadis Jamyn his
+pupil, Du Bartas, Pibrac, Desportes, and many others, were gradually
+establishing the rules of metre, and the Alexandrine was displacing the
+old verse of ten syllables.
+
+Of German poetry there is little to say; but England had Lord Vaux's
+short pieces in "The Paradise of Dainty Devices"; Sackville, with his
+"Induction" to the "Mirrour of Magistrates," 1559; George Gascoyne,
+whose "Steel Glass," 1576, is the earliest English satire; and, above
+all, Spenser, whose "Shepherd's Kalendar" appeared in 1579. This work
+was far more natural and more pleasing than the other pastorals of
+the age. Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," and his "Rape of Lucrece,"
+were published in 1593-94. Sir Philip Sidney, Raleigh, Lodge, Breton,
+Marlowe, Green, Watson, Davison, Daniel, and Michael Drayton were now
+writing poems, and Drake has a list of more than two hundred English
+poets of this time.
+
+The great work of the period is, however, the "Fa�ry Queen," the first
+three books of which were published in 1590, and the last three in
+1596. Spenser excels Ariosto in originality, force, and variety of
+character, and in depth of reflection, but especially in the poetical
+cast of feeling.
+
+Of dramatic literature, between 1550 and 1600, we have many Italian
+plays by Groto, Decio da Orto, and Tasso. The pastoral drama
+originating with Agostino Beccari in 1554, reached its highest
+perfection in Tasso's "Aminta," which was followed by Guarini's "Pastor
+Fido."
+
+Lope de Vega is the great Spanish dramatist of this time. His
+astonishing facility produced over two thousand original dramas,
+of which three hundred have been preserved. Jodelle, the father of
+the French theatre, presented his "Cl�opatre" in 1552. In 1598 the
+foundations were laid of the Com�die Fran�aise.
+
+In England, Sackville led the way with his tragedy of "Gorboduc,"
+played at Whitehall before Elizabeth in 1562. In 1576, the first
+public theatre was erected in Blackfriars. Several young men of talent
+appeared, Marlowe, Peele, Greene, Kyd, and Nash, as the precursors
+of Shakespeare; and in 1587, being then twenty-three years old, the
+greatest of dramatists settled in London, and several of his plays had
+been acted before the close of the century.
+
+Among English prose writings of this time may be mentioned Ascham's
+"Schoolmaster," 1570, Puttenham's "Art of English Poesie," 1586, and,
+as a curiosity of affectation, Lilly's "Euphues." But the first good
+prose-writer is Sir Philip Sidney, whose "Arcadia" appeared in 1590;
+and the finest master of prose in the Elizabethan period is Hooker. The
+first book of the "Ecclesiastical Polity" is one of the masterpieces of
+English eloquence.
+
+
+_V.--The Seventeenth Century (1600-1650)_
+
+The two great figures in philosophy of this period are Bacon and
+Descartes. At its beginning the higher philosophy had been little
+benefited by the labours of any modern enquirer. It was become, indeed,
+no strange thing to question the authority of Aristotle, but his
+disciples could point with scorn at the endeavours made to supplant it.
+
+In the great field of natural jurisprudence, the most eminent name
+in this period is that of Hugo Grotius, whose famous work "De Jure
+Belli et Pacis" was published in Paris in 1625. This treatise made an
+epoch in the philosophical, and, we might almost say, in the political
+history of Europe.
+
+In the history of poetry, between 1600 and 1650, we have the Italians
+Marini, Tassoni, and Chiabrera, the last being the founder of a school
+of lyric poetry known as "Pindaric." Among Spanish poets are Villegas
+and Gongora; in France, Malherbe, Regnier, Racan, Maynard, Voiture,
+and Sarrazin; Opitz, in Germany, was the founder of German poetic
+literature; and this, the golden age of Dutch literature, included the
+poets Spiegel, Hooft, Cats, and Vondel. The English poets of these
+fifty years are very numerous, but for the most part not well known.
+Spenser was imitated by Phineas and Giles Fletcher. Sir John Denham,
+Donne, Crashaw, Cowley, Daniel, Michael Drayton, William Browne, and
+Sir William Davenant wrote at this time, to which also belong the
+sonnets of Shakespeare. Drummond of Hawthornden, Carew, Ben Jonson,
+Wither, Habington, Suckling, and Herrick, were all in the first half
+of the seventeenth century. John Milton was born in 1609, and in 1634
+wrote "Comus," which was published in 1637; "Lycidas," the "Allegro"
+and "Penseroso," the "Ode on the Nativity," and Milton's sonnets
+followed.
+
+The Italian drama was weak at this period, but in Spain Lope de Vega
+and Calderon were at the height of their glory. In France, Corneille's
+"M�lite," his first play, was produced in 1629, and was followed by
+"Clitandre," "La Veuve," "Medea," "Cid," and others. The English
+drama was exceedingly popular, and the reigns of James and Charles
+were the glory of our theatre. Shakespeare--the greatest name in all
+literature--Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Shirley,
+Heywood, Webster, and many other dramatists contributed to its fame.
+
+In prose writings, Italian and Spanish works of this time show a great
+decline in taste; but in France, the letters of the moralist Balzac and
+of Voiture, from 1625, have ingenuity and sprightliness. English prose
+writings of the period include the works of Knolles, Raleigh, Daniel,
+Bacon, Milton, Clarendon; Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy," Earle's
+"Microcosmographia" and Overbury's "Characters."
+
+Fiction was represented by "Don Quixote," of which the first part was
+published in 1605--almost the only Spanish book which is popularly read
+in every country; by the French heroic romance, and by the English
+Godwin's "Man in the Moon."
+
+
+_VI.--The Seventeenth Century (1650-1700)_
+
+Among the greatest writers of this period are Bossuet and Pascal, in
+theology; Gassendi, Malebranche, Spinoza, and Locke, in philosophy; and
+Cumberland, Puffendorf, La Rochefoucauld, and La Bruy�re, in morals.
+Leibnitz wrote on jurisprudence before he passed on to philosophy, and
+the same subject was treated also by Godefroy, Domat, and Noodt.
+
+Italian poetry had now improved in tone. Filicaja, a man of serious
+and noble spirit, wrote odes of deep patriotic and religious feeling.
+Guidi, a native of Pavia, raised himself to the highest point that any
+lyric poet of Italy has attained. Spain and Portugal were destitute
+of poets; but in France La Fontaine, Boileau, Benserade, Chaulieu,
+Segrais, Deshouli�res, and Fontenelle, were famous. In England at this
+time there were Waller, Milton, Butler, and Dryden, as well as Marvell
+and other minor poets.
+
+Neither Italy nor Spain was now producing dramatic works of any
+importance, but it was very different in France. Corneille continued
+to write for the stage, and Racine's first play, the "Andromaque," was
+presented in 1667. This was followed by "Britannicus," "B�r�nice,"
+"Mithridate," "Iphig�nie," and others. Racine's style is exquisite; he
+is second only to Virgil among all poets. Moli�re, the French writer
+whom his country has most uniformly admired, began with "L'�tourdi" in
+1653, and his pieces followed rapidly until his death, in 1673. The
+English Restoration stage was held by Dryden, Otway, Southern, Lee,
+Congreve, Wycherley, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh.
+
+In prose literature Italy is deficient; but this period includes the
+most distinguished portion of the great age in France, the reign of
+Louis XIV. Bossuet, Malebranche, Arnauld, and Pascal are among the
+greatest of French writers.
+
+English writing now became easier and more idiomatic, sometimes even to
+the point of vulgarity. The best masters of prose were Cowley, Evelyn,
+Dryden, and Walton in the "Complete Angler."
+
+Among novels of the period may be named those of Quevedo in Spain;
+of Scarron, Bergerac, Perrault, and Hamilton, in France; and the
+"Pilgrim's Progress"--for John Bunyan may pass for the father of our
+novelists--in England. Swift's "Tale of a Tub," than which Rabelais has
+nothing superior, was indeed not published till 1704, but was written
+within the seventeenth century.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM HAZLITT
+
+Lectures on the English Poets
+
+  William Hazlitt, critic and essayist, was born on April 10,
+  1778, and was educated in London for the Unitarian ministry. But
+  his talents for painting and for writing diverted him from that
+  career, and soon, though he showed great promise as a painter,
+  he devoted himself to authorship, contributing largely to the
+  "Morning Chronicle," the "Examiner," and the "Edinburgh Review."
+  His wide, genial interests, his ardent temperament, and his
+  admirable style, have given Hazlitt a high place among English
+  critics. He is no pedant or bookworm; he is always human, always
+  a man of the world. His "Characters of Shakespeare's Plays,"
+  1817, gave him a reputation which was confirmed by his "Lectures
+  on the English Poets," delivered next year at the Surrey
+  Institute. Further lectures, on the English comic writers and on
+  the Elizabethan dramatists, followed. His essays, on all kinds
+  of subjects, are collected in volumes under various titles. All
+  are the best of reading. Hazlitt's later works include "Liber
+  Amoris," 1823; "Spirit of the Age," 1825, consisting of character
+  studies; and the "Life of Napoleon" (Hazlitt's hero), 1828-30.
+  The essayist was twice married, and died on September 18, 1830.
+
+
+_What Is Poetry?_
+
+The best general notion which I can give of poetry is that it is the
+natural impression of any object or event by its vividness exciting
+an involuntary movement of imagination and passion, and producing,
+by sympathy, a certain modulation of the voice or sounds expressing
+it. Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds with
+Nature and itself. He who has a contempt for poetry cannot have much
+respect for himself or for anything else. It is not a mere frivolous
+accomplishment; it has been the study and delight of mankind in all
+ages.
+
+Nor is it found only in books; wherever there is a sense of beauty,
+or power, or harmony, as in a wave of the sea, or in the growth of a
+flower, there is poetry in its birth. It is not a branch of authorship;
+it is the "stuff of which our life is made." The rest is "mere
+oblivion," for all that is worth remembering in life is the poetry of
+it. If poetry is a dream, the business of life is much the same. If it
+is a fiction, made up of what we wish things to be, and fancy that they
+are because we wish them so, there is no other or better reality.
+
+The light of poetry is not only a direct, but also a reflected light,
+that, while it shows us the object, throws a sparkling radiance on all
+around it; the flame of the passions communicated to the imagination
+reveals to us, as with a flash of lightning, the inmost recesses of
+thought, and penetrates our whole being. Poetry represents forms
+chiefly as they suggest other forms; feelings, as they suggest forms,
+or other feelings. Poetry puts a spirit of life and motion into the
+universe. It describes the flowing, not the fixed. The poetical
+impression of any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or
+power that cannot be contained within itself, that is impatient of all
+limit; that--as flame bends to flame--strives to link itself to some
+other image of kindred beauty or grandeur, to enshrine itself, as it
+were, in the highest forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense
+of pleasure by expressing it in the boldest manner, and by the most
+striking examples of the same quality in other instances.
+
+As in describing natural objects poetry impregnates sensible
+impressions with the forms of fancy, so it describes the feelings of
+pleasure or pain by blending them with the strongest movements of
+passion and the most striking forms of Nature. Tragic poetry, which is
+the most impassioned species of it, strives to carry on the feeling to
+the utmost point of sublimity or pathos by all the force of comparison
+or contrast, loses the sense of present suffering in the imaginary
+exaggeration of it, exhausts the terror or pity by an unlimited
+indulgence of it, and lifts us from the depths of woe to the highest
+contemplations of human life.
+
+The use and end of poetry, "both at the first and now, was and is to
+hold the mirror up to Nature," seen through the medium of passion and
+imagination, not divested of that medium by means of literal truth or
+abstract reason. Those who would dispel the illusions of imagination,
+to give us their drab-coloured creation in their stead, are not very
+wise. It cannot be concealed, however, that the progress of knowledge
+and refinement has a tendency to clip the wings of poetry. The province
+of the imagination is principally visionary, the unknown and undefined;
+we can only fancy what we do not know. There can never be another
+Jacob's dream. Since that time the heavens have gone farther off, and
+grown astronomical.
+
+Poetry combines the ordinary use of language with musical expression.
+As there are certain sounds that excite certain movements, and the song
+and dance go together, so there are, no doubt, certain thoughts that
+lead to certain tones of voice, or modulations of sound. The jerks, the
+breaks, the inequalities and harshnesses of prose are fatal to the flow
+of a poetical imagination, as a jolting road disturbs the reverie of an
+absent-minded man. But poetry makes these odds all even. The musical in
+sound is the sustained and continuous; the musical in thought is the
+sustained and continuous also. An excuse may be made for rhyme in the
+same manner.
+
+
+_Chaucer and Spenser_
+
+These are two out of the four greatest English poets; but they were
+both much indebted to the early poets of Italy, and may be considered
+as belonging, in some degree, to that school. Spenser delighted in
+luxurious enjoyment; Chaucer in severe activity of mind. Spenser was
+the most romantic and visionary of all great poets; Chaucer the most
+practical, the most a man of business and the world.
+
+Chaucer does not affect to show his power over the reader's mind, but
+the power which his subject has over his own. The readers of Chaucer's
+poetry feel more nearly what the persons he describes must have felt,
+than perhaps those of any other poet. There is no artificial, pompous
+display; but a strict parsimony of the poet's materials, like the
+rude simplicity of the age in which he lived. His words point as an
+index to the objects, like the eye or finger. There were none of the
+commonplaces of poetic diction in his time, no reflected lights of
+fancy, no borrowed roseate tints; he was obliged to inspect things
+narrowly for himself, so that his descriptions produce the effect of
+sculpture.
+
+His descriptions of natural scenery possess a characteristic excellence
+which may be termed gusto. They have a local truth and freshness which
+give the very feeling of the air, the coolness or moisture of the
+ground. Inanimate objects are thus made to have a fellow-feeling in the
+interest of the story, and render the sentiment of the speaker's mind.
+
+It was the same trust in Nature and reliance on his subject which
+enabled Chaucer to describe the grief and patience of Griselda and the
+faith of Constance. Chaucer has more of this deep, internal, sustained
+sentiment than any other writer, except Boccaccio. In depth of simple
+pathos and intensity of conception, never swerving from his subject, I
+think no other writer comes near him, not even the Greek tragedians.
+
+The poetry of Chaucer has a religious sanctity about it, connected
+with the manners and superstitions of the age. It has all the spirit
+of martyrdom. It has also all the extravagance and the utmost
+licentiousness of comic humour, equally arising out of the manners of
+the time. He excelled in both styles, and could pass at will from the
+one to the other; but he never confounded the two styles together.
+
+Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical. There is an
+originality, richness, and variety in his allegorical personages and
+fictions which almost vie with the splendours of the ancient mythology.
+His poetry is all fairyland; he paints Nature not as we find it, but
+as we expected to find it, and fulfils the delightful promise of our
+youth. His ideas, indeed, seem more distinct than his perceptions. The
+love of beauty, however, and not of truth, is the moving principle of
+his mind; and he is guided in his fantastic delineations by no rule but
+the impulse of an inexhaustible imagination.
+
+Some people will say that Spenser's poetry may be very fine, but that
+they cannot understand it, on account of the allegory. They are afraid
+of the allegory. This is very idle. If they do not meddle with the
+allegory, the allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it at
+all, the whole is as plain as a pikestaff.
+
+Spenser is the poet of our waking dreams, and he has invented not
+only a language, but a music of his own for them. The undulations are
+infinite, like those of the waves of the sea; but the effect is still
+the same, lulling the senses into a deep oblivion of the jarring noises
+of the world, from which we have no wish ever to be recalled.
+
+
+_Shakespeare and Milton_
+
+Those arts which depend on individual genius and incommunicable power
+have always leaped at once from infancy to manhood, from the first
+rude dawn of invention to their meridian height and dazzling lustre,
+and have in general declined ever after. Homer, Chaucer, Spenser,
+Shakespeare, Dante, and Ariosto--Milton alone was of a later age, and
+not the worse for it--Raphael, Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio,
+Cervantes, and Boccaccio, the Greek sculptors and tragedians, all lived
+near the beginning of their arts, perfected, and all but created them.
+They rose by clusters, never so to rise again.
+
+The four greatest names in English poetry are almost the four first we
+come to--Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton. There are no others
+that can really be put into competition with these. Of these four,
+Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life; Spenser as the
+poet of romance; Shakespeare as the poet of Nature, in the largest use
+of the term; and Milton as the poet of morality. Chaucer describes
+things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be; Shakespeare, as
+they would be; and Milton, as they ought to be. The characteristic of
+Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser, remoteness; of Milton, elevation; of
+Shakespeare, everything.
+
+The peculiarity of Shakespeare's mind was its generic quality; its
+power of communication with all other minds, so that it contained a
+universe of thought and feeling within itself. He was just like any
+other man, but he was like all other men. He was the least of an
+egotist that it was possible to be. He was nothing in himself; but he
+was all that others were, or that they could become. His genius shone
+equally on the evil and on the good, on the wise and the foolish, the
+monarch and the beggar. The world of spirits lay open to him, like
+the world of real men and women; and there is the same truth in his
+delineations of the one as of the other. Each of his characters is as
+much itself, and as absolutely independent of the rest, as well as
+of the author, as if they were living persons, not fictions of the
+mind. His plays alone are properly expressions of the passions, not
+descriptions of them.
+
+Chaucer's characters are narrative; Shakespeare's, dramatic; Milton's,
+epic. In Chaucer we perceive a fixed essence of character. In
+Shakespeare there is a continual composition and decomposition of
+its elements, a fermentation of every particle in the whole mass, by
+its alternate affinity or antipathy to other principles which are
+brought in contact with it. Milton took only a few simple principles of
+character, and raised them to the utmost conceivable grandeur.
+
+The passion in Shakespeare is full of dramatic fluctuation. In Chaucer
+it is like the course of a river--strong, full, and increasing; but
+in Shakespeare it is like the sea, agitated this way and that, and
+loud-lashed by furious storms. Milton, on the other hand, takes only
+the imaginative part of passion, that which remains after the event,
+and abstracts it from the world of action to that of contemplation.
+
+The great fault of a modern school of poetry [the Lake poets] is that
+it would reduce poetry to a mere effusion of natural sensibility; or,
+what is worse, would divest it both of imaginary splendour and human
+passion, to surround the meanest objects with the morbid feelings and
+devouring egotism of the writers' own minds. Milton and Shakespeare did
+not so understand poetry. They gave a more liberal interpretation both
+to Nature and art. They did not do all they could to get rid of the one
+and the other, to fill up the dreary void with the moods of their own
+minds.
+
+Shakespeare's imagination is of the same plastic kind as his conception
+of character or passion. Its movement is rapid and devious, and unites
+the most opposite extremes. He seems always hurrying from his subject,
+even while describing it; but the stroke, like the lightning's, is
+as sure as it is sudden. His language and versification are like the
+rest of him. He has a magic power over words; they come winged at his
+bidding, and seem to know their places. His language is hieroglyphical.
+It translates thoughts into visible images. He had an equal genius for
+comedy and tragedy; and his tragedies are better than his comedies,
+because tragedy is better than comedy. His female characters are the
+finest in the world. Lastly, Shakespeare was the least of a coxcomb of
+anyone that ever lived, and much of a gentleman.
+
+Shakespeare discovers in his writings little religious enthusiasm, and
+an indifference to personal reputation; in these respects, as in every
+other, he formed a direct contrast to Milton. Milton's works are a
+perpetual invocation to the muses, a hymn to Fame. He had his thoughts
+constantly fixed on the contemplation of the Hebrew theocracy, and of a
+perfect commonwealth; and he seized the pen with a hand warm from the
+touch of the ark of faith. The spirit of the poet, the patriot, and the
+prophet vied with each other in his breast. He thought of nobler forms
+and nobler things than those he found about him. He strives hard to say
+the finest things in the world, and he does say them. In Milton there
+is always an appearance of effort; in Shakespeare, scarcely any.
+
+Milton has borrowed more than any other writer, and exhausted every
+source of imitation; yet he is perfectly distinct from every other
+writer. The power of his mind is stamped on every line. He describes
+objects of which he could only have read in books with the vividness of
+actual observation.
+
+Milton's blank verse is the only blank verse in the language, except
+Shakespeare's, that deserves the name of verse. The sound of his lines
+is moulded into the expression of the sentiment, almost of the very
+image.
+
+
+_Dryden and Pope_
+
+These are the great masters of the artificial style of poetry, as the
+four poets of whom I have already treated were of the natural, and they
+have produced a kind and degree of excellence which existed equally
+nowhere else.
+
+Pope was a man of exquisite faculties and of the most refined taste;
+he was a wit and critic, a man of sense, of observation, and the
+world. He was the poet not of Nature, but of art. He saw Nature only
+dressed by art; he judged of beauty by fashion; he sought for truth
+in the opinions of the world; he judged of the feelings of others by
+his own. His muse never wandered with safety but from his library to
+his grotto, or from his grotto into his library back again. That which
+was the nearest to him was the greatest; the fashion of the day bore
+sway in his mind over the immutable laws of Nature. He had none of the
+enthusiasm of poetry; he was in poetry what the sceptic is in religion.
+Yet within this narrow circle how much, and that how exquisite, was
+contained! The wrong end of the magnifier is held to everything, but
+still the exhibition is highly curious. If I had to choose, there are
+one or two persons--and but one or two--that I should like to have been
+better than Pope!
+
+Dryden was a bolder and more various versifier than Pope; he had
+greater strength of mind, but he had not the same delicacy of feeling.
+Pope describes the thing, and goes on describing his own descriptions,
+till he loses himself in verbal repetitions; Dryden recurs to the
+object often, and gives us new strokes of character as well as of his
+pencil.
+
+
+_Thomson and Cowper_
+
+Thomson is the best of our descriptive poets; the colours with which
+he paints still seem wet. Nature in his descriptions is seen growing
+around us, fresh and lusty as in itself. He puts his heart into his
+subject, and it is for this reason that he is the most popular of all
+our poets. But his verse is heavy and monotonous; it seems always
+labouring uphill.
+
+Cowper had some advantages over Thomson, particularly in simplicity
+of style, in a certain precision of graphical description, and in a
+more careful choice of topics. But there is an effeminacy about him
+which shrinks from and repels common and hearty sympathy. He shakes
+hands with Nature with a pair of fashionable gloves on; he is delicate
+to fastidiousness, and glad to get back to the drawing-room and the
+ladies, the sofa, and the tea-urn. He was a nervous man; but to be a
+coward is not the way to succeed either in poetry, in war, or in love.
+Still, he is a genuine poet, and deserves his reputation.
+
+
+_Robert Burns_
+
+Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius; but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. He was as much of a man, not a twentieth part as much of a
+poet, as Shakespeare. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel--no more.
+His pictures of good fellowship, of social glee, of quaint humour, are
+equal to anything; they come up to Nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it. His strength is not greater than his weakness; his virtues were
+greater than his vices. His virtues belonged to his genius; his vices
+to his situation.
+
+Nothing could surpass Burns's love-songs in beauty of expression and in
+true pathos, except some of the old Scottish ballads themselves. There
+is in these a still more original cast of thought, a more romantic
+imagery; a closer intimacy with Nature, a more infantine simplicity of
+manners, a greater strength of affection, "thoughts that often lie too
+deep for tears." The old English ballads are of a gayer turn. They are
+adventurous and romantic; but they relate chiefly to good living and
+good fellowship, to drinking and hunting scenes.
+
+
+_Some Contemporary Poets_
+
+Tom Moore is heedless, gay, and prodigal of his poetical wealth.
+Everything lives, moves, and sparkles in his poetry, while, over all,
+love waves his purple light. His levity at last oppresses; his variety
+cloys, his rapidity dazzles and distracts the sight.
+
+Lord Byron's poetry is as morbid as Moore's is careless and dissipated.
+His passion is always of the same unaccountable character, at once
+violent and sullen, fierce and gloomy. It is the passion of a mind
+preying upon itself, and disgusted with, or indifferent to, all other
+things. There is nothing less poetical or more repulsive. But still
+there is power; and power forces admiration. In vigour of style and
+force of conception he surpasses every writer of the present day.
+
+Walter Scott is deservedly the most popular of living poets. He differs
+from his readers only in a greater range of knowledge and facility of
+expression. The force of his mind is picturesque rather than moral. He
+is to the great poet what an excellent mimic is to a great actor.
+
+Mr. Wordsworth is the most original poet now living. His poetry is not
+external, but internal; he furnishes it from his own mind, and is his
+own subject. He is the poet of mere sentiment. Many of the "Lyrical
+Ballads" are of inconceivable beauty, of perfect originality and
+pathos. But his powers have been mistaken by the age. He cannot form a
+whole. He has not the constructive faculty. His "Excursion" is a proof
+of this; the line labours, the sentiment moves slowly, but the poem
+stands stock-still.
+
+The Lake school of poetry had its origin in the French Revolution,
+or rather in the sentiments and opinions which produced that event.
+The world was to be turned topsy-turvy, and poetry was to share its
+fate. The paradox they set out with was that all things are by Nature
+equally fit subjects for poetry, or rather, that the meanest and most
+unpromising are best. They aimed at exciting attention by reversing
+the established standards of estimation in the world. An adept in
+this school of poetry is jealous of all excellence but his own. He is
+slow to admire anything admirable, feels no interest in what is most
+interesting to others, no grandeur in anything grand. He sees nothing
+but himself and the universe. His egotism is, in some respects, a
+madness. The effect of this has been perceived as something odd; but
+the cause or principle has never been traced to its source before. The
+proofs are to be found throughout many of the poems of Mr. Southey, Mr.
+Coleridge, and Mr. Wordsworth.
+
+I may say of Mr. Coleridge that he is the only person I ever knew who
+answered to the idea of a man of genius. But his "Ancient Mariner" is
+the only work that gives an adequate idea of his natural powers. In
+it, however, he seems to "conceive of poetry but as a drunken dream,
+reckless, careless, and heedless of past, present, and to come."
+
+I have thus gone through my task. I have felt my subject sinking from
+under me as I advanced, and have been afraid of ending in nothing.
+The interest has unavoidably decreased at almost every step of the
+progress, like a play that has its catastrophe in the first or second
+act. This, however, I could not help.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
+
+The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table
+
+  In 1857 Oliver Wendell Holmes (see Vol. V, p. 87) leapt into fame
+  by his "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" papers in the "Atlantic
+  Monthly," then edited by Lowell. His "Professor" and "Poet"
+  series of papers followed, with hardly less success. In these
+  writings a robust idealism, humour, fancy, and tenderness are so
+  gently mixed as to amount to genius.
+
+
+_Every Man His Own Boswell_
+
+"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called 'facts.'
+They are the brute beasts of the intellectual domain. Who does not know
+fellows that always have an ill-conditioned fact or two that they lead
+after them into decent company like so many bulldogs, ready to let them
+slip at every ingenious suggestion, or convenient generalisation, or
+pleasant fancy? I allow no 'facts' at this table."
+
+I continued, for I was in the talking vein, "This business of
+conversation is a very serious matter. There are men that it weakens
+one to talk with an hour more than a day's fasting would do. They are
+the talkers that have what may be called jerky minds. After a jolting
+half-hour with one of these jerky companions talking with a dull friend
+affords great relief. It is like taking the cat in your lap after
+holding a squirrel."
+
+"Do not dull people bore you?" said one of the lady boarders.
+
+"Madam," said I, "all men are bores except when we want them. Talking
+is like playing on the harp; there is as much in laying the hand on the
+strings to stop the vibrations as in twanging them to bring out the
+music. There is this, too, about talking," I continued; "it shapes our
+thoughts for us; the waves of conversation roll them as the surf rolls
+the pebbles on the shore. Writing or printing is like shooting with a
+rifle; you may hit your reader's mind, or miss it, but talking is like
+playing at a mark with the pipe of an engine--if it is within reach,
+and you have time enough, you can't help hitting it."
+
+The company agreed that this last illustration was of superior
+excellence.
+
+
+_The Ageing of Ideas_
+
+"I want to make a literary confession now, which I believe nobody
+has made before me. I never wrote a 'good' line in my life, but the
+moment after it was written it seemed a hundred years old. The rapidity
+with which ideas grow old in our memories is in a direct ratio to the
+squares of their importance. A great calamity, for instance, is as old
+as the trilobites an hour after it has happened. It stains backward
+through all the leaves we have turned over in the book of life, before
+its blot of tears or of blood is dry on the page we are turning."
+
+I wish I had not said all this then and there. The pale schoolmistress,
+in her mourning dress, was looking at me with a wild sort of
+expression; and all at once she melted away from her seat like an image
+of snow; a sling shot could not have brought her down better. God
+forgive me!
+
+
+_The Confusion of Personality_
+
+"We must remember that talking is one of the fine arts--the noblest,
+the most important, and the most difficult. It is not easy at the best
+for two persons talking together to make the most of each other's
+thoughts, there are so many of them."
+
+The company looked as if they wanted an explanation.
+
+"When John and Thomas, for instance, are talking together," I
+continued, "it is natural that among the six there should be more or
+less confusion and misapprehension."
+
+Our landlady turned pale. No doubt she thought there was a screw
+loose in my intellect, and that it involved the probable loss of a
+boarder. Everybody looked up, and the old gentleman opposite slid the
+carving-knife to one side, as it were, carelessly.
+
+"I think," I said, "I can make it plain that there are at least six
+personalities distinctly to be recognised as taking part in that
+dialogue between John and Thomas.
+
+
+THREE JOHNS
+
+  1. The real John; known only to his Maker.
+
+  2. John's ideal John; never the real one, and often very unlike
+  him.
+
+  3. Thomas's ideal John; never the real John, nor John's John, but
+  often very unlike either.
+
+
+THREE THOMASES
+
+  1. The real Thomas.
+
+  2. Thomas's ideal Thomas.
+
+  3. John's ideal Thomas.
+
+"It follows that until a man can be found who knows himself as his
+Maker knows him, or who sees himself as others see him, there must be
+at least six persons engaged in every dialogue between two. No wonder
+two disputants often get angry when there are six of them talking and
+listening all at the same time."
+
+A very unphilosophical application of the above remarks was made by
+a young fellow, answering to the name of John, who sits near me at
+table. A certain basket of peaches, a rare vegetable, little known to
+boarding-houses, was on its way to me _vi�_ this unlettered Johannes.
+He appropriated the three that remained in the basket, remarking that
+there was just one apiece for him. I convinced him that his practical
+inference was hasty and illogical--but in the meantime he had eaten the
+peaches.
+
+
+_More on Books_
+
+"Some of you boarders ask me why I don't write a novel, or something
+of that kind. Well, there are several reasons against it. In the first
+place I should tell all my secrets, and I maintain that verse is the
+proper medium for such revelations. Again, I am terribly afraid I
+should show up all my friends, and I am afraid all my friends would not
+bear showing up very well. And sometimes I have thought I might be too
+dull to write such a story as I should wish to write. And, finally, I
+think it is very likely I _shall_ write a story one of these days.
+
+"I saw you smiled when I spoke about the possibility of my being too
+dull to write a good story. When one arrives at the full and final
+conclusion that he or she is really dull, it is one of the most
+tranquillising and blessed convictions that can enter a mortal's mind.
+
+"How sweetly and honestly one said to me the other day, 'I hate
+books!' I did not recognise in him inferiority of literary taste
+half so distinctly as I did simplicity of character, and fearless
+acknowledgment of his inaptitude for scholarship. In fact, I think
+there are a great many who read, with a mark to keep their place, that
+really 'hate books,' but never had the wit to find it out, or the
+manliness to own it."
+
+
+_Dual Consciousness_
+
+I am so pleased with my boarding-house that I intend to remain here,
+perhaps for years.
+
+"Do thoughts have regular cycles? Take this: All at once a conviction
+flashes through us that we have been in the same precise circumstances
+as at the present instant once or many times before."
+
+When I mentioned this the Schoolmistress said she knew the feeling
+well, and didn't like to experience it; it made her think she was a
+ghost, sometimes.
+
+The young fellow whom they call John said he knew all about it. He
+had just lighted a cheroot the other day when a tremendous conviction
+came over him that he had done just that same thing ever so many times
+before.
+
+"How do I account for it? Well, some think that one of the hemispheres
+of the brain hangs fire, and the small interval between the perceptions
+of the nimble and the sluggish half seems an indefinitely long period,
+and therefore the second perception appears to be the copy of another,
+ever so old."
+
+
+_The Race of Life_
+
+"Nothing strikes one more in the race of life than to see how many give
+out in the first half of the course. 'Commencement day' always reminds
+me of the start of the 'Derby.' Here we are at Cambridge and a class is
+first 'graduating.' Poor Harry! he was to have been there, but he has
+paid forfeit.
+
+"_Ten years gone._ First turn in the race. A few broken down; two or
+three bolted. 'Cassock,' a black colt, seems to be ahead of the rest.
+'Meteor' has pulled up.
+
+"_Twenty years._ Second corner turned. 'Cassock' has dropped from the
+front, and 'Judex,' an iron-grey, has the lead. But look! how they have
+thinned out! Down flat--five--six--how many? They will not get up again
+in this race be very sure!
+
+"_Thirty years._ Third corner turned. 'Dives,' bright sorrel, ridden
+by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to make play fast--is getting
+to be the favourite with many. But who is that other one that now
+shows close up to the front? Don't you remember the quiet brown colt
+'Asteroid,' with the star in his forehead? That is he; he is one of the
+sort that lasts. 'Cassock' is now taking it easily in a gentle trot.
+
+"_Forty years._ More dropping off, but places much as before.
+
+"_Fifty years._ Race over. All that are on the course are coming
+in at a walk; no more running. Who is ahead? Ahead? What! and the
+winning-post a slab of white or gray stone standing out from that turf
+where there is no more jockeying, or straining for victory! Well, the
+world marks their places in its betting-book; but be sure that these
+matter very little, if they have run as well as they knew how!
+
+"I will read you a few lines, if you do not object, suggested by
+looking at a section of one of those chambered shells to which is given
+the name of Pearly Nautilus.
+
+
+THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS
+
+    This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
+        Sails the unshadowed main--
+      The venturous bark that flings
+      On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
+      In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,
+        And coral reefs lie bare,
+    Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
+
+    Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
+        Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
+      And every chambered cell,
+      Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell,
+      As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
+        Before thee lies revealed--
+    Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!
+
+    Year after year beheld the silent toil
+        That spread his lustrous coil;
+      Still, as the spiral grew,
+      He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
+      Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
+        Built up its idle door,
+    Stretched in his last found home, and knew the old no more.
+
+    Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
+        Child of the wandering sea,
+      Cast from her lap forlorn!
+      From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
+      Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
+        While on mine ear it rings,
+    Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:
+
+    Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
+        As the swift seasons roll!
+      Leave thy low-vaulted past!
+      Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
+      Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
+        Till thou at length art free,
+    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
+
+
+_Sensibility and Scholarship_
+
+"Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which
+they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. The side-door
+opens at once into the sacred chambers. There is almost always at
+least one key to this side-door. This is carried for years hidden in a
+mother's bosom. Be very careful to whom you entrust one of these keys
+of the side-door. Some of those who come in at the side-door have a
+scale of your whole nervous system, and can play on all the gamut of
+your sensibilities in semi-tones. Married life is the school in which
+the most accomplished artists in this department are found. Be very
+careful to whom you give the side-door key.
+
+"The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its
+great scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries,
+if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of
+manhood, and I think if we could ask Abraham to dine with us men of
+letters next Saturday we should feel honoured by his company."
+
+
+_A Growing Romance_
+
+"I should like to make a few intimate revelations relating especially
+to my early life, if I thought you would like to hear them."
+
+The schoolmistress turned in her chair and said, "If we should _like_
+to hear them--we should _love_ to."
+
+So I drew my chair a shade nearer her, and went on to speak of voices
+that had bewitched me.
+
+"I wish you could hear my sister's voice," said the schoolmistress.
+
+"If it is like yours it must be a pleasant one," said I.
+
+Lately she has been walking early and has brought back roses in her
+cheeks. I love the damask rose best of all flowers.
+
+Our talk had been of trees, and I had been comparing the American
+and the English elms in the walk we call the Mall. "Will you walk
+out and look at those elms with me after breakfast?" I said to the
+schoolmistress.
+
+I am not going to tell lies about it, and say that she blushed. On the
+contrary, she turned a little bit pale, but smiled brightly, and said,
+"Yes, with pleasure." So she went to fetch her bonnet, and the old
+gentleman opposite followed her with his eyes, and said he wished he
+was a young fellow.
+
+"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to the corner.
+
+"Then we won't take it," said I.
+
+When we reached the school-room door the damask roses were so much
+heightened in colour by exercise that I felt sure it would be useful to
+her to take a stroll like this every morning.
+
+I have been low-spirited and listless lately. It is coffee, I think. I
+notice that I tell my secrets too easily when I am downhearted. There
+are inscriptions on our hearts never seen except at dead low-tide.
+And there is a woman's footstep on the sand at the side of my deepest
+ocean-buried inscription.
+
+I am not going to say which I like best, the seashore or the mountains.
+The one where your place is, is the best for you; but this difference
+there is--you can domesticate mountains. The sea is feline. It licks
+your feet, its huge flanks purr very pleasantly for you; but it will
+crack your bones and eat you for all that, and wipe the crimsoned foam
+from its jaws as if nothing had happened. The mountains have a grand,
+stupid, lovable tranquillity; the sea has a fascinating, treacherous
+intelligence.
+
+"If I thought I should ever see the Alps!" said the schoolmistress.
+
+"Perhaps you might some time or other," I said.
+
+"It is not very likely," she answered.
+
+_Tableau._ Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures in the foreground,
+two of them standing apart; one of them a gentleman--oh--ah--yes!--the
+other a lady, leaning on his shoulder. (The reader will understand this
+was an internal, private, subjective diorama, seen for one instant on
+the background of my own consciousness.)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I can't say just how many walks she and I had taken together. I found
+the effect of going out every morning was decidedly favourable on her
+health. I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. Better too
+few words from the woman we love than too many; while she is silent,
+Nature is working for her; while she talks she works for herself. Love
+is sparingly soluble in the words of men, therefore they speak much of
+it; but one syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a
+man's heart can hold.
+
+
+_Nature's Patient Advance_
+
+I don't know anything sweeter than the leaking in of Nature through all
+the cracks in the walls and floors of cities. You heap a million tons
+of hewn rocks on a square mile or so of earth which was green once.
+The trees look down from the hill-tops and ask each other, as they
+stand on tiptoe, "What are these people about?" And the small herbs
+look up and whisper back, "We will go and see." So the small herbs pack
+themselves up in the least possible bundles, and wait until the night
+wind steals to them and whispers, "Come with me." Then they go softly
+with it into the great city--one to a cleft in the pavement, one to a
+spout on the roof, one to a seam in the marble over a rich gentleman's
+bones, and one to the grave without a stone, where nothing but a man
+is buried--and there they grow, looking down on the generations of men
+from mouldy roofs, looking up from between the less-trodden pavements,
+looking out through iron cemetery railings.
+
+Listen to them when there is only a light breath stirring, and you will
+hear them saying to each other, "Wait awhile." The words run along the
+telegraph of those narrow green lines that border the roads leading
+from the city, until they reach the slope of the hills, and the trees
+repeat in low murmurs, "Wait awhile." By and by the flow of life in the
+streets ebbs, and the old leafy inhabitants--the smaller tribes always
+in front--saunter in, one by one, very careless seemingly, but very
+tenacious, until they swarm so that the great stones gape from each
+other with the crowding of their roots, and the feldspar begins to be
+picked out of the granite to find them food. At last the trees take up
+their solemn line of march, and never rest until they have camped in
+the market-place. Wait long enough, and you will find an old doting
+oak hugging in its yellow underground arms a huge worn block that
+was the cornerstone of the State-house. Oh, so patient she is, this
+imperturbable Nature!
+
+
+_The Long Path_
+
+It was in talking of life that the schoolmistress and I came nearest
+together. I thought I knew something about that. The schoolmistress had
+tried life, too. Once in a while one meets with a single soul greater
+than all the living pageant that passes before it. This was one of
+them. Fortune had left her, sorrow had baptised her. Yet as I looked
+upon her tranquil face, gradually regaining a cheerfulness that was
+often sprightly, as she became interested in the various matters we
+talked about and places we visited, I saw that eye and lip and every
+shifting lineament were made for love.
+
+I never addressed a word of love to the schoolmistress in the course of
+these pleasant walks. It seemed as if we talked of everything but love
+on that particular morning. There was, perhaps, a little more timidity
+and hesitancy on my part than I have commonly shown among our people
+at the boarding-house. In fact, I considered myself the master at the
+breakfast-table; but somehow I could not command myself just then so
+well as usual. The truth is, I had secured a passage to Liverpool in
+the steamer which was to leave at noon--with the condition of being
+released if circumstances occurred to detain me. The schoolmistress
+knew nothing about this, of course, as yet.
+
+It was on the Common that we were walking. The boulevard of the
+Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in different
+directions. One of these runs across the whole length of the Common. We
+called it the "long path," and were fond of it.
+
+I felt very weak indeed--though of a tolerably robust habit--as we came
+opposite to the head of this path on that morning. I think I tried to
+speak twice, without making myself distinctly audible. At last I got
+out the question, "Will you take the long path with me?" "Certainly,"
+said the schoolmistress, "with much pleasure." "Think," I said, "before
+you answer. If you take the long path with me now, I shall interpret it
+that we are to part no more."
+
+The schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement, as if an arrow
+had struck her. One of the long granite blocks used as seats was hard
+by--the one you may still see close by the gingko-tree. "Pray sit
+down," I said.
+
+"No, no," she answered softly; "I will walk the _long path_ with you!"
+
+The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking, arm-in-arm,
+about the middle of the long path, and said very charmingly to us,
+"Good-morning, my dears!"
+
+
+
+
+LA BRUY�RE
+
+Characters
+
+  Jean de la Bruy�re was born in Paris, in August, 1645. He studied
+  law and became a barrister, but at the age of twenty-eight gave
+  up that profession, which did not agree with his tendencies
+  to meditation and his scrupulous mind. In 1673, he bought the
+  office of Treasurer of the Finances, and led an independent and
+  studious life. In 1684, he became a tutor to the Duc de Bourbon,
+  grandson of the great Cond�, and continued to reside in the Cond�
+  household until his death in 1696. In the "Caract�res," which
+  first appeared in 1688, La Bruy�re has recorded his impressions
+  of men. In 1687 the manuscript was handed to Michallet, a
+  publisher in whose shop La Bruy�re spent many hours every week.
+  "Will you print this?" asked the author. "I don't know whether
+  it will be to your advantage; but should it prove a success,
+  the money will be for my dear friend, your little daughter."
+  The sale of the book produced over $40,000. When La Bruy�re was
+  elected a member of the French Academy, his enemies declared
+  that the "Characters" consisted of satirical portraits of
+  leading personalities, and "keys" to the portraits were widely
+  circulated. The pen sketches, however, are not only applicable to
+  that period, but to every age.
+
+
+_I.--On Men and Books_
+
+All has been said, and one comes too late after the seven thousand
+years during which men have existed--and thought. All that one can do
+is to think and speak rightly, without attempting to force one's tastes
+and feelings upon others.
+
+Mediocrity in poetry, music, painting, and oratory is unbearable.
+
+There is in art a certain degree of perfection, as there is in Nature
+an ideal point of matureness. To go beyond, or to remain below that
+degree is faulty.
+
+The ability of a writer consists mainly in giving good definitions and
+apt descriptions. The superiority of Moses, Homer, Plato, Virgil,
+and Horace resides in the beauty of their expressions and images. One
+has to express the truth to write in a natural, powerful, and refined
+manner.
+
+It has taken centuries for men to return to the ideal of the ancients
+and to all that is simple and natural.
+
+We feed on the classics and the able, modern authors. Then, when we
+become authors ourselves, we ill-use our masters, like those children
+who, strengthened by the milk they have suckled, beat their nurses.
+
+Read your works to those who are able to criticise and appreciate them.
+A good and careful writer often finds that the expression he had so
+long looked for was most simple and natural, and one which ought to
+have occurred to him at once and without effort.
+
+The pleasure there is in criticising takes from us the joy of being
+moved by that which is really beautiful.
+
+Ars�ne, from the top of his mind, looks down upon humanity; and, owing
+to the distance from which he sees men, is almost frightened at their
+smallness. He is so filled with his own sublime thoughts that he hardly
+finds time to deliver a few precious oracles.
+
+Th�ocrine knows things which are rather useless; his ideas are always
+strange, his memory always at work. He is a supercilious dreamer, and
+always seems to laugh at those whom he considers as his inferiors. I
+read my book to him; he listens. Afterwards, he speaks to me about his
+own book. What does he think of mine? I told you so before: he speaks
+to me of his own work!
+
+What an amazing difference there is between a beautiful book and a
+perfect book!
+
+When a book elevates your mind, and inspires you with noble thoughts,
+you require nothing else to judge it; it is a good and masterly work.
+
+The fools do not understand what they read. The mediocre think they
+understand thoroughly. Great minds do not always understand every page
+of a book; they think obscure that which is obscure, and clear that
+which is clear. The pedantic find obscure that which is not, and refuse
+to understand that which is perfectly clear.
+
+Moli�re would have been a perfect writer had he only avoided jargon and
+barbarisms, and written more purely.
+
+Ronsard had in him enough good and bad to form great disciples in prose
+and verse.
+
+Corneille, at his best, is original and inimitable, but he is uneven.
+He had a sublime mind, and has written a few verses which are among the
+best ever written.
+
+Racine is more human. He has imitated the Greek classics, and in his
+tragedies there is simplicity, clearness, and pathos.
+
+Corneille paints men as they ought to be; Racine paints them as they
+are. Corneille is more moral; Racine is more natural. The former, it
+seems, owes much to Sophocles; the latter, to Euripides.
+
+How is it that people at the theatre laugh so freely, and yet are
+ashamed to weep? Is it less natural to be moved by all that is worthy
+of pity than to burst out laughing at all that is ridiculous? Is it
+that we consider it weak to cry, especially when the cause of our
+emotion is an artificial one? But the cause of our laughter at the
+theatre is also artificial. Some persons think it is as childish to
+laugh excessively as to sob.
+
+Not only should plays not be immoral; they should be elevating.
+
+Logic is the art of convincing oneself of some truth. Eloquence is a
+gift of the soul which makes one capable of conquering the hearts and
+minds of the listeners and of making them believe anything one pleases.
+
+He who pays attention only to the taste of his own century thinks more
+of himself than of his writings. One should always aim at perfection.
+If our contemporaries fail to do us justice, posterity may do so.
+
+Horace and Boileau have said all this before. I take your word for it;
+but may I not, after them, "think a true thought," which others will
+think after me?
+
+There are more tools than workers, and among the latter, more bad than
+good ones.
+
+There is, in this world, no task more painful than that of making a
+name for oneself; we die before having even sketched our work. It
+takes, in France, much firmness of purpose and much broadmindedness
+to be indifferent to public functions and offices, and to consent to
+remain at home and do nothing.
+
+Hardly anyone has enough merit to assume that part in a dignified
+manner, or enough brains to fill the gap of time without what is
+generally called business.
+
+All that is required is a better name for idleness; and that
+meditation, conversation, reading, and repose should be called work.
+
+You tell me that there is gold sparkling on Phil�mon's clothes. So
+there is on the clothes at the draper's. He is covered with the most
+gorgeous fabrics. I can see those fabrics in the shops. But the
+embroidery and ornaments on Phil�mon's clothes further increase their
+magnificence. If so, I praise the embroiderer's workmanship. If someone
+asks him the time, he takes from his pocket a jewelled watch; the hilt
+of his sword is made of onyx; he displays a dazzling diamond on his
+finger and wears all the curious and pretty trifles of fashion and
+vanity. You arouse my interest at last. I ought to see those precious
+things. Send me the clothes and jewels of Phil�mon; I don't require to
+see _him_.
+
+It is difficult to tell the hero from the great man at war. Both have
+military virtues. However, the former is generally young, enterprising,
+gifted, self-controlled even in danger, and courageous; the latter has
+much judgment, foresees events, and is endowed with much ability and
+experience. Perhaps one might say that Alexander was only a hero and
+that C�sar was a great man.
+
+M�nippe is a bird adorned with feathers which are not his own. He
+has nothing to say; he has no feelings, no thoughts. He repeats what
+others have said, and uses their ideas so instinctively that he
+deceives himself, and is his first victim. He often believes that he
+is expressing his own thoughts, while he is only an echo of someone
+whom he has just left. He believes childishly that the amount of wit he
+possesses is all that man ever possessed. He therefore looks like a man
+who has nothing to desire.
+
+
+_II.--On Women and Wealth_
+
+From the age of thirteen to the age of twenty-one, a girl wishes she
+were beautiful; afterwards she wishes she were a man.
+
+An unfaithful woman is a woman who has ceased to love.
+
+A light-hearted woman is a woman who already loves another.
+
+A fickle woman is a woman who does not know whether she loves or not,
+and who does not know what or whom she loves.
+
+An indifferent woman is a woman who loves nothing.
+
+There is a false modesty which is vanity; a false glory which is
+light-mindedness; a false greatness which is smallness; a false virtue
+which is hypocrisy; a false wisdom which is prudishness.
+
+Why make men responsible for the fact that women are ignorant? Have
+any laws or decrees been issued forbidding them to open their eyes, to
+read, to remember what they have read, and to show that they understood
+it in their conversations and their works? Have they not themselves
+decided to know little or nothing, because of their physical weakness,
+or the sluggishness of their minds; because of the time their beauty
+requires; because of their light-mindedness which prevents them from
+studying; because they have only talent and genius for needlework or
+house-managing; or because they instinctively dislike all that is
+earnest and demands some effort?
+
+Women go to extremes. They are better or worse than men.
+
+Women go farther than men in love; but men make better friends.
+
+It is because of men that women dislike one another.
+
+It is nothing for a woman to say what she does not mean; it is easier
+still for a man to say all what he thinks.
+
+Time strengthens the ties of friendship and loosens those of love.
+
+There is less distance between hatred and love than between dislike and
+love.
+
+One can no more decide to love for ever than decide never to love at
+all.
+
+One comes across men who irritate one by their ridiculous expressions,
+the strangeness and unfitness of the words they use. Their weird jargon
+becomes to them a natural language. They are delighted with themselves
+and their wit. True, they have some wit, but one pities them for having
+so little of it; and, what is more, one suffers from it.
+
+Arrias has read and seen everything, and he wants people to know it.
+He is a universal man; he prefers to lie rather than keep silent or
+appear ignorant about something. The subject of the conversation is the
+court of a certain northern country. He at once starts talking, and
+speaks of it as if he had been born in that country; he gives details
+on the manners and customs, the women and the laws: he tells anecdotes
+and laughs loudly at his own wit. Someone ventures to contradict him
+and proves to him that he is not accurate in his statements. Arrias
+turns to the interrupter: "I am telling nothing that is not exact," he
+says. "I heard all those details from Sethon, ambassador of France to
+that court. Sethon returned recently; I know him well, and had a long
+conversation with him on this matter." Arrias was resuming his story
+with more confidence than ever, when one of the guests said to him: "I
+am Sethon, and have just returned from my mission."
+
+Cl�ante is a most honest man. His wife is the most reasonable person
+in the world. Both make everybody happy wherever they go, and it were
+impossible to find a more delightful and refined couple. Yet they
+separate to-morrow!
+
+At thirty you think about making your fortune; at fifty you have not
+made it; when you are old, you start building, and you die while the
+painters are still at work.
+
+Numberless persons ruin themselves by gambling, and tell you coolly
+they cannot live without gambling. What nonsense! Would it be allowed
+to say that one cannot live without stealing, murdering, or leading a
+riotous existence?
+
+Giton has a fresh complexion, and an aggressive expression. He is
+broad-shouldered and corpulent. He speaks with confidence. He blows his
+nose noisily, spits to a great distance, and sneezes loudly. He sleeps
+a great deal, and snores whenever he pleases. When he takes a walk with
+his equals he occupies the centre; when he stops, they stop; when he
+advances again, they do the same. No one ever interrupts him. He is
+jovial, impatient, haughty, irritable, independent. He believes himself
+witty and gifted. He is rich.
+
+Ph�don has sunken eyes. He is thin, and his cheeks are hollow. He
+sleeps very little. He is a dreamer, and, although witty, looks stupid.
+He forgets to say what he knows, and when he does speak, speaks badly.
+He shares the opinion of others; he runs, he flies to oblige anyone; he
+is kind and flattering. He is superstitious, scrupulous, and bashful.
+He walks stealthily, speaks in a low voice, and takes no room. He can
+glide through the densest crowd without effort. He coughs, and blows
+his nose inside his hat, and waits to sneeze until he is alone. He is
+poor.
+
+
+_III.--On Men and Manners_
+
+Paris is divided into a number of small societies which are like so
+many republics. They have their own customs, laws, language, and even
+their own jokes.
+
+One grows up, in towns, in a gross ignorance of all that concerns the
+country. City-bred men are unable to tell hemp from flax, and wheat
+from rye. We are satisfied as long as we can feed and dress.
+
+When we speak well of a man at court, we invariably do so for two
+reasons: firstly, in order that he may hear that we spoke well of him;
+secondly, in order that he may speak well of us in his turn.
+
+To be successful and to secure high offices there are two ways: the
+high-road, on which most people pass; and the cross-road, which is the
+shorter.
+
+The youth of a prince is the origin of many fortunes.
+
+Court is where joys are evident, but artificial; where sorrows are
+concealed, but real.
+
+A slave has one master; an ambitious man has as many as there are
+persons who may be useful to him in his career.
+
+With five or six art terms, people give themselves out as experts in
+music, painting, and architecture.
+
+The high opinions people have of the great and mighty is so blind, and
+their interest in their gestures, features, and manners so general,
+that if the mighty were only good, the devotion of the people to them
+would amount to worship.
+
+Lucile prefers to waste his life as the prot�g� of a few aristocrats
+than to live on familiar terms with his peers.
+
+It is advisable to say nothing of the mighty. If you speak well of
+them, it is flattery. It is dangerous to speak ill of them during their
+lifetime, and it is cowardly to do so after they are dead.
+
+Life is short and annoying. We spend life wishing.
+
+When life is wretched, it is hard to bear; when it is happy, it is
+dreadful to lose it. The one alternative is as bad as the other.
+
+Death occurs only once, but makes itself felt at every moment of our
+life. It is more painful to fear it than to suffer it.
+
+There are but three events for man: birth, life, and death. He does not
+realise his birth, he suffers when he dies, and he forgets to live.
+
+We seek our happiness outside ourselves. We seek it in the opinions of
+men whom we know are flatterers, and who lack sincerity. What folly!
+Most men spend half their lives making the other half miserable.
+
+It is easier for many men to acquire one thousand virtues than to get
+rid of one defect.
+
+It is as difficult to find a conceited man who believes himself really
+happy as to discover a modest man who thinks himself too unhappy.
+
+The birch is necessary to children. Grown-up men need a crown, a
+sceptre, velvet caps and fur-lined robes. Reason and justice devoid of
+ornaments would not be imposing or convincing. Man, who is a mind, is
+led by his eyes and his ears!
+
+
+_IV.--On Customs and Religion_
+
+Fashion in matters of food, health, taste and conscience is utterly
+foolish. Game is at present out of fashion, and condemned as a
+food. It is to-day a sin against fashion to be cured of the ague by
+blood-letting.
+
+The conceited man thinks every day of the way in which he will be able
+to attract attention on the following day. The philosopher leaves the
+matter of his clothes to his tailor. It is just as childish to avoid
+fashion as to follow its decrees too closely.
+
+Fashion exists in the domain of religion.
+
+There have been young ladies who were virtuous, healthy and pious, who
+wished to enter a convent, but who were not rich enough to take in a
+wealthy abbey the vows of poverty.
+
+How many men one sees who are strong and righteous, who would never
+listen to the entreaties of their friends, but who are easily
+influenced and corrupted by women.
+
+I would like to hear a sober, moderate, chaste, righteous man declare
+that there is no God. At least he would be speaking in a disinterested
+manner. But there is no such man to be found.
+
+The fact that I am unable to prove that God does not exist establishes
+for me the fact that God does exist.
+
+Atheism does not exist. If there were real atheists, it would merely
+prove that there are monsters in this world.
+
+Forty years ago I didn't exist, and it was not within my power to
+be born. It does not depend upon me who now exist to be no more.
+Consequently, I began being and am going on being, thanks to something
+which is beyond me, which will last after me, which is mightier than I
+am. If that something is not God, pray tell me what it is.
+
+Everything is great and worthy of admiration in Nature.
+
+O you vain and conceited man, make one of these worms which you
+despise! You loathe toads; make a toad if you can!
+
+Kings, monarchs, potentates, sacred majesties, have I given you all
+your supreme names? We, mere men, require some rain for our crops or
+even some dew; make some dew, send to the earth a drop of water!
+
+A certain inequality in the destinies of men, which maintains order and
+obedience, is the work of God. It suggests a divine law.
+
+If the reader does not care for these "characters," it will surprise
+me; if he does care for them, it will also surprise me.
+
+
+
+
+WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR
+
+Imaginary Conversations
+
+  Walter Savage Landor, writer, scholar, poet, and, it might
+  almost be said, quarreller, said of his own fame, "I shall dine
+  late, but the dining-room will be well lighted, the guests few
+  and select." A powerful, turbulent spirit, he attracted great
+  men. Emerson, Browning, Dickens, and Swinburne travelled to sit
+  at his feet, and he knew Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Lamb, and
+  Southey. Born at Warwick, on January 30, 1775, he was dismissed
+  from Rugby School at the age of fifteen, and from Oxford at the
+  age of nineteen; was estranged from his father; several times
+  left the wife whom he had married for her golden hair, and spent
+  the last years of his life, lonely but lionised, at Florence. To
+  the last--which came on September 17, 1864--he wrote both prose
+  and verse. Landor appears, to the average appreciator of English
+  literature, an interesting personality rather than a great
+  writer, though his epic, "Gebir" (1798), and his tragedy, "Count
+  Julian" (1812), like some of his minor verse, contain passages
+  of great beauty. But it was in the "Imaginary Conversations,"
+  written between 1821 and 1829, and first sampled by the public
+  in review form in 1823, that he endowed the English language
+  with his most permanent achievement. Nearly 150 of these
+  "Conversations" were written in all, and we epitomise here five
+  of the best-known.
+
+
+_I.--Peter the Great and Alexis_
+
+PETER: And so, after flying from thy father's house, thou hast returned
+again from Vienna. After this affront in the face of Europe, thou
+darest to appear before me?
+
+ALEXIS: My emperor and father! I am brought before your majesty not at
+my own desire.
+
+PETER: I believe it well. What hope hast thou, rebel, in thy flight to
+Vienna?
+
+ALEXIS: The hope of peace and privacy; the hope of security, and, above
+all things, of never more offending you.
+
+PETER: Didst thou take money?
+
+ALEXIS: A few gold pieces. Hitherto your liberality, my father, hath
+supplied my wants of every kind.
+
+PETER: Not of wisdom, not of duty, not of spirit, not of courage, not
+of ambition. I have educated thee among my guards and horses, among
+my drums and trumpets, among my flags and masts. I have rolled cannon
+balls before thee over iron plates; I have shown thee bright new arms,
+bayonets, and sabres. I have myself led thee forth to the window when
+fellows were hanged and shot; and I have made thee, in spite of thee,
+look steadfastly upon them, incorrigible coward! Thy intention, I know,
+is to subvert the institutions it has been the labour of my lifetime to
+establish. Thou hast never rejoiced at my victories.
+
+ALEXIS: I have rejoiced at your happiness and your safety.
+
+PETER: Liar! Coward! Traitor! When the Polanders and the Swedes fell
+before me, didst thou congratulate me? Didst thou praise the Lord of
+Hosts? Wert thou not silent and civil and low-spirited?
+
+ALEXIS: I lamented the irretrievable loss of human life, I lamented
+that the bravest and noblest were swept away the first, that order
+was succeeded by confusion, and that your majesty was destroying the
+glorious plans you alone were capable of devising.
+
+PETER: Of what plans art thou speaking?
+
+ALEXIS: Of civilising the Muscovites. The Polanders in parts were
+civilised; the Swedes more than any other nation.
+
+PETER: Civilised, forsooth? Why the robes of the metropolitan, him at
+Upsal, are not worth three ducats. But I am wasting my words. Thine are
+tenets that strike at the root of politeness and sound government.
+
+ALEXIS: When I hear the God of Mercy invoked to massacres, and thanked
+for furthering what He reprobates and condemns--I look back in vain on
+any barbarous people for worse barbarism.
+
+PETER: Malignant atheist! Am I Czar of Muscovy, and hear discourse on
+reason and religion--from my own son, too? No, by the Holy Trinity!
+thou art no son of mine. Unnatural brute, I have no more to do with
+thee. Ho there! Chancellor! What! Come at last! Wert napping, or
+counting thy ducats?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's will, and pleasure!
+
+PETER: Is the senate assembled?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Every member, sire.
+
+PETER: Conduct this youth with thee, and let them judge him; thou
+understandest?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's commands are the breath of our nostrils.
+
+PETER: If these rascals are amiss, I will try my new cargo of Livonian
+hemp upon 'em.
+
+CHANCELLOR (_returning_): Sire! Sire!
+
+PETER: Speak, fellow! Surely they have not condemned him to death
+without giving themselves time to read the accusation, that thou comest
+back so quickly.
+
+CHANCELLOR: No, sire! Nor has either been done.
+
+PETER: Then thy head quits thy shoulders.
+
+CHANCELLOR: O sire! he fell.
+
+PETER: Tie him up to thy chair, then. Cowardly beast! What made him
+fall?
+
+CHANCELLOR: The hand of death.
+
+PETER: Prythee speak plainlier.
+
+CHANCELLOR: He said calmly, but not without sighing twice or thrice,
+"Lead me to the scaffold; I am weary of life. My father says, too
+truly, I am not courageous, but the death that leads me to my God shall
+never terrify me." When he heard your majesty's name accusing him of
+treason and attempts at parricide, he fell speechless. We raised him
+up: he was dead!
+
+PETER: Inconsiderate and barbarous varlet as thou art, dost thou recite
+this ill accident to a father--and to one who has not dined? Bring me a
+glass of brandy. Away and bring it: scamper! Hark ye! bring the bottle
+with it: and--hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some pickled
+sturgeon, and some krout and caviar.
+
+
+_II.--Joseph Scaliger and Montaigne_
+
+MONTAIGNE: What could have brought you, M. de l'Escale, other than a
+good heart? You rise early, I see; you must have risen with the sun, to
+be here at this hour. I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in
+Auvergne. Pierre, thou hast done well; set it upon the table, and tell
+Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil them.
+
+SCALIGER: This, I perceive, is the ante-chamber to your library; here
+are your every-day books.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Faith! I have no other. These are plenty, methinks.
+
+SCALIGER: You have great resources within yourself, and therefore can
+do with fewer.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Why, how many now do you think here may be?
+
+SCALIGER: I did not believe at first that there could be above
+fourscore.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Well! are fourscore few? Are we talking of peas and beans?
+
+SCALIGER: I and my father (put together) have written well-nigh as many.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Ah! to write them is quite another thing. How do you like my
+wine? If you prefer your own country wine, only say it. I have several
+bottles in my cellar. I do not know, M. de l'Escale, whether you are
+particular in these matters?
+
+SCALIGER: I know three things--wine, poetry, and the world.
+
+MONTAIGNE: You know one too many, then. I hardly know whether I know
+anything about poetry; for I like Clem Marot better than Ronsard.
+
+SCALIGER: It pleases me greatly that you like Marot. His version of
+the Psalms is lately set to music, and added to the New Testament of
+Geneva.
+
+MONTAIGNE: It is putting a slice of honeycomb into a barrel of vinegar,
+which will never grow the sweeter for it.
+
+SCALIGER: Surely, you do not think in this fashion of the New Testament?
+
+MONTAIGNE: Who supposes it? Whatever is mild and kindly is there. But
+Jack Calvin has thrown bird-lime and vitriol upon it, and whoever but
+touches the cover dirties his fingers or burns them.
+
+SCALIGER: Calvin is a very great man.
+
+MONTAIGNE: I do not like your great men who beckon me to them, call me
+their begotten, their dear child, and their entrails; and, if I happen
+to say on any occasion, "I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little from
+you," stamp and cry, "The devil you do!" and whistle to the executioner.
+
+SCALIGER: John Calvin is a grave man, orderly, and reasonable.
+
+MONTAIGNE: In my opinion he has not the order nor the reason of my
+cook. Mat never twitched God by the sleeve and swore He should not have
+his own way.
+
+SCALIGER: M. de Montaigne, have you ever studied the doctrine of
+predestination?
+
+MONTAIGNE: I should not understand it if I had; and I would not break
+through an old fence merely to get into a cavern. Would it make me
+honester or happier, or, in other things, wiser?
+
+SCALIGER: I do not know whether it would materially.
+
+MONTAIGNE: I should be an egregious fool, then, to care about it. Come,
+walk about with me; after a ride you can do nothing better to take off
+fatigue. I can show you nothing but my house and my dairy.
+
+SCALIGER: Permit me to look a little at those banners. They remind me
+of my own family, we being descended from the great Cane della Scala,
+Prince of Verona, and from the House of Hapsburg, as you must have
+heard from my father.
+
+MONTAIGNE: What signifies it to the world whether the great Cane was
+tied to his grandmother or not? As for the House of Hapsburg, if you
+could put together as many such houses as would make up a city larger
+than Cairo, they would not be worth his study, or a sheet of paper on
+the table of it.
+
+
+_III.--Bossuet and the Duchesse de Fontanges_
+
+BOSSUET: Mademoiselle, it is the king's desire that I compliment you on
+the elevation you have attained.
+
+FONTANGES: O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His majesty
+is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was,
+"Ang�lique! do not forget to compliment monseigneur the bishop on
+the dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the dauphiness.
+I desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank
+sufficient to confess you, now you are duchess." You are so agreeable a
+man, monseigneur, I will confess to you, directly.
+
+BOSSUET: Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young
+lady?
+
+FONTANGES: What is that?
+
+BOSSUET: Do you hate sin?
+
+FONTANGES: Very much.
+
+BOSSUET: Do you hate the world?
+
+FONTANGES: A good deal of it; all Picardy, for example, and all
+Sologne; nothing is uglier--and, oh my life! what frightful men and
+women!
+
+BOSSUET: I would say in plain language, do you hate the flesh and the
+devil?
+
+FONTANGES: Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the
+while, I will tell him so--"I hate you, beast!" There now. As for
+flesh, I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor
+hunt, nor do anything that I know of.
+
+BOSSUET: Mademoiselle Marie Ang�lique de Scoraille de Rousille,
+Duchesse de Fontanges! Do you hate titles, and dignities, and yourself?
+
+FONTANGES: Myself! Does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first?
+Hatred is the worst thing in the world; it makes one so very ugly.
+
+BOSSUET: We must detest our bodies if we would save our souls.
+
+FONTANGES: That is hard. How can I do it? I see nothing so detestable
+in mine. Do you? As God hath not hated me, why should I? As for titles
+and dignities, I am glad to be a duchess. Would not you rather be a
+duchess than a waiting-maid if the king gave you your choice?
+
+BOSSUET: Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am confounded at the levity of your
+question. If you really have anything to confess, and desire that I
+should have the honour of absolving you, it would be better to proceed.
+
+FONTANGES: You must first direct me, monseigneur. I have nothing
+particular. What was it that dropped on the floor as you were speaking?
+
+BOSSUET: Leave it there!
+
+FONTANGES: Your ring fell from your hand, my lord bishop! How quick you
+are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up?
+
+BOSSUET: Madame is too condescending. My hand is shrivelled; the ring
+has ceased to fit it. A pebble has moved you more than my words.
+
+FONTANGES: It pleases me vastly. I admire rubies. I will ask the king
+for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the
+chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall
+ask him. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess
+to you with it upon my finger. But, first, I must be cautious and
+particular to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should
+say.
+
+
+_IV.--The Empress Catharine and Princess Dashkof_
+
+CATHARINE: Into his heart! Into his heart! If he escapes, we perish!
+Do you think, Dashkof, they can hear me through the double door? Yes,
+hark! they heard me. They have done it! What bubbling and gurgling!
+He groaned but once. Listen! His blood is busier now than it ever was
+before. I should not have thought it could have splashed so loud upon
+the floor. Put you ear against the lock.
+
+DASHKOF: I hear nothing.
+
+CATHARINE: My ears are quicker than yours, and know these notes better.
+Let me come. There! There again! The drops are now like lead. How now?
+Which of these fools has brought his dog with him? What trampling and
+lapping! The creature will carry the marks all about the palace with
+his feet! You turn pale, and tremble. You should have supported me, in
+case I had required it.
+
+DASHKOF: I thought only of the tyrant. Neither in life nor in death
+could any one of these miscreants make me tremble. But the husband
+slain by his wife! What will Russia--what will Europe say?
+
+CATHARINE: Russia has no more voice than a whale. She may toss about in
+her turbulence, but my artillery (for now, indeed, I can safely call it
+mine) shall stun and quiet her.
+
+DASHKOF: I fear for your renown.
+
+CATHARINE: Europe shall be informed of my reasons, if she should ever
+find out that I countenanced the conspiracy. She shall be persuaded
+that her repose made the step necessary; that my own life was in
+danger; that I fell upon my knees to soften the conspirators; that only
+when I had fainted, the horrible deed was done.
+
+DASHKOF: Europe may be more easily subjugated than duped.
+
+CATHARINE: She shall be both, God willing! Is the rouge off my face?
+
+DASHKOF: It is rather in streaks and mottles, excepting just under the
+eyes, where it sits as it should do.
+
+CATHARINE: I am heated and thirsty. I cannot imagine how. I think
+we have not yet taken our coffee. I could eat only a slice of melon
+at breakfast--my duty urged me _then_--and dinner is yet to come.
+Remember, I am to faint at the midst of it, when the intelligence comes
+in, or, rather, when, in despite of every effort to conceal it from
+me, the awful truth has flashed upon my mind. Remember, too, you are
+to catch me, and to cry for help, and to tear those fine flaxen hairs
+which we laid up together on the toilet; and we are both to be as
+inconsolable as we can be for the life of us.
+
+Come, sing. I know not how to fill up the interval. Two long hours yet!
+How stupid and tiresome! I wish all things of the sort could be done
+and be over in a day. They are mightily disagreeable when by nature one
+is not cruel. People little know my character. I have the tenderest
+heart upon earth. Ivan must follow next; he is heir to the throne.
+But not now. Another time. Two such scenes together, and without some
+interlude, would perplex people.
+
+I thought we spoke of singing. Do not make me wait. Cannot you sing as
+usual, without smoothing your dove's throat with your handkerchief, and
+taking off your necklace? Sing, sing! I am quite impatient!
+
+
+_V.--Bacon and Richard Hooker_
+
+BACON: Hearing much of your worthiness and wisdom, Master Richard
+Hooker, I have besought your comfort and consolation in this my too
+heavy affliction, for we often do stand in need of hearing what we
+know full well, and our own balsams must be poured into our breasts by
+another's hand. Withdrawn, as you live, from court and courtly men,
+and having ears occupied by better reports than such as are flying
+about me, yet haply so hard a case as mine, befalling a man heretofore
+not averse from the studies in which you take delight, may have touched
+you with some concern.
+
+HOOKER: I do think, my lord of Verulam, that the day which in his
+wisdom he appointed for your trial was the very day on which the
+king's majesty gave unto your ward and custody the great seal of his
+English realm. And--let me utter it without offence--your features and
+stature were from that day forward no longer what they were before.
+Such an effect do rank and power and office produce even on prudent and
+religious men. You, my lord, as befits you, are smitten and contrite;
+but I know that there is always a balm which lies uppermost in these
+afflictions.
+
+BACON: Master Richard, it is surely no small matter to lose the respect
+of those who looked up to us for countenance; and the favour of a right
+learned king, and, O Master Hooker, such a power of money! But money
+is mere dross. I should always hold it so, if it possessed not two
+qualities--that of making men treat us reverently, and that of enabling
+us to help the needy.
+
+HOOKER: The respect, I think, of those who respect us for what a fool
+can give and a rogue can take away, may easily be dispensed with; but
+it is indeed a high prerogative to help the needy, and when it pleases
+the Almighty to deprive us of it, he hath removed a most fearful
+responsibility.
+
+BACON: Methinks it beginneth to rain, Master Richard. What if we
+comfort our bodies with a small cup of wine, against the ill-temper of
+the air. Pledge me; hither comes our wine.(_To the servant_) Dolt! Is
+not this the beverage I reserve for myself?
+
+Bear with me, good Master Hooker, but verily I have little of this
+wine, and I keep it as a medicine for my many and growing infirmities.
+You are healthy at present: God, in His infinite mercy, long maintain
+you so! Weaker drink is more wholesome for you. But this Malmsey, this
+Malmsey, flies from centre to circumference, and makes youthful blood
+boil.
+
+HOOKER: Of a truth, my knowledge in such matters is but sparse. My
+lord of Canterbury once ordered part of a goblet, containing some
+strong Spanish wine, to be taken to me from his table when I dined by
+sufferance with his chaplains, and, although a most discreet, prudent
+man, as befitteth his high station, was not so chary of my health as
+your lordship. Wine is little to be trifled with; physic less. The
+Cretans, the brewers of this Malmsey, have many aromatic and powerful
+herbs among them. On their mountains, and notably on Ida, grows that
+dittany which works such marvels, and which perhaps may give activity
+to this hot medicinal drink of theirs. I would not touch it knowingly;
+an unregarded leaf dropped into it above the ordinary might add such
+puissance to the concoction as almost to break the buckles in my shoes.
+
+BACON: When I read of such things I doubt them: but if I could procure
+a plant of dittany I would persuade my apothecary and my gamekeeper to
+make experiments.
+
+HOOKER: I dare not distrust what grave writers have declared in matters
+beyond my knowledge.
+
+BACON: Good Master Hooker, I have read many of your reasonings, and
+they are admirably well sustained. Yet forgive me, in God's name my
+worthy master, if you descried in me some expression of wonder at your
+simplicity. You would define to a hair's breadth the qualities, states,
+and dependencies of principalities, dominations, and powers; you would
+be unerring about the apostles and the churches, and 'tis marvellous
+how you wander about a pot-herb!
+
+HOOKER: I know my poor, weak intellects, most noble lord, and how
+scantily they have profited by my hard painstaking. Wisdom consisteth
+not in knowing many things, nor even in knowing them thoroughly, but
+in choosing and in following what conduces the most certainly to our
+lasting happiness and true glory.
+
+BACON: I have observed among the well-informed and the ill-informed
+nearly the same quantity of infirmities and follies; those who are
+rather the wiser keep them separate, and those who are wisest of all
+keep them better out of sight. I have persuaded men, and shall persuade
+them for ages, that I possess a wide range of thought unexplored by
+others, and first thrown open by me, with many fair enclosures of
+choice and abstruse knowledge. One subject, however, hath almost
+escaped me, and surely one worth the trouble.
+
+HOOKER: Pray, my lord, if I am guilty of no indiscretion, what may it
+be?
+
+BACON: Francis Bacon.
+
+
+
+
+LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+
+Reflections and Moral Maxims
+
+  Rochefoucauld's "Reflections, or Sentences and Moral Maxims,"
+  were published in 1665. In them his philosophy of life is
+  expressed with a perfection of form which still remains
+  unrivalled and unequalled. The original work contains only 314
+  short sentences; the last edition he published contains 541; but
+  when one examines the exquisite workmanship of his style, one
+  does not wonder that it represents the labour of twenty years. La
+  Rochefoucauld (see Vol. X, p. 203) is one of the greatest masters
+  of French prose, as well as one of the great masters of cynicism.
+  He has exerted a deep influence both on English and French
+  literature, and Swift and Byron were among his disciples.
+
+
+_I.--Of Love and of Women_
+
+To judge love by most of its effects, it seems more like hatred than
+kindness.
+
+In love we often doubt of what we most believe.
+
+As long as we love, we forgive.
+
+Love is like fire, it cannot be without continual motion; as soon as it
+ceases to hope or fear it ceases to exist.
+
+Many persons would never have been in love had they never heard talk of
+it.
+
+Agreeable and pleasant as love is, it pleases more by the manners in
+which it shows itself than by itself alone.
+
+We pass on from love to ambition; we seldom return from ambition to
+love.
+
+Those who have had a great love affair find themselves all their life
+happy and unhappy at being cured of it.
+
+In love the one who is first cured is best cured.
+
+The reason why lovers are never weary of talking of each other is that
+they are always talking of themselves.
+
+Constancy in love is a perpetual inconstancy which makes our heart
+attach itself in succession to all the qualities of our beloved, and
+prefer, now this trait and now that; so that this constancy is only a
+kind of inconstancy fixed and enclosed in a single object.
+
+If there is a love pure and exempt from all mixture with our other
+passions, it is that which is hidden in the depth of our heart and
+unknown to ourselves.
+
+The pleasure of love consists in loving, and our own passion gives us
+more happiness than the feelings which our beloved has for us.
+
+The grace of novelty is to love like the fine bloom on fruit; it gives
+it a lustre which is easily effaced and never recovered.
+
+We are nearer loving those who hate us than those who love us more than
+we desire.
+
+Women often fancy themselves to be in love when they are not. Their
+natural passion for being beloved, their unwillingness to give a
+denial, the excitement of mind produced by an affair of gallantry, all
+these make them imagine they are in love when they are in fact only
+coquetting.
+
+All women are flirts. Some are restrained by timidity and some by
+reason.
+
+The greatest miracle of love is the reformation of a coquette.
+
+A coquette pretends to be jealous of her lover, in order to conceal her
+envy of other women.
+
+Most women yield more from weakness than from passion, hence an
+enterprising man usually succeeds with them better than an amiable man.
+
+It is harder for women to overcome their coquetry than their love. No
+woman knows how much of a coquette she is.
+
+Women who are in love more readily forgive great indiscretions than
+small infidelities.
+
+Some people are so full of themselves that even when they become lovers
+they find a way of being occupied with their passion without being
+interested in the person whom they love.
+
+It is useless to be young without being beautiful, or beautiful without
+being young.
+
+In their first love affairs women love their lover; in all others they
+love love.
+
+In the old age of love, as in the old age of life, we continue to live
+to pain long after we have ceased to live to pleasure.
+
+There is no passion in which self-love reigns so powerfully as in love;
+we are always more ready to sacrifice the repose of a person we love
+than to lose our own.
+
+There is a certain kind of love which, as it grows excessive, leaves no
+room for jealousy.
+
+Jealousy is born with love, but it does not always die with it.
+
+Jealousy is the greatest of all afflictions, and that which least
+excites pity in the persons that cause it.
+
+In love and in friendship we are often happier by reason of the things
+that we do not know than by those that we do.
+
+There are few women whose merit lasts longer than their beauty.
+
+The reason why most women are little touched by friendship is that
+friendship is insipid to those who have felt what love is.
+
+
+_II.--Friendship_
+
+In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find something that
+does not displease us.
+
+Rare as true love is, it is less rare than true friendship.
+
+What makes us so changing in our friendships is that it is difficult to
+discern the qualities of the soul, and easy to recognize the qualities
+of the mind.
+
+It is equally difficult to have a friendship for those whom we do not
+esteem as for those we esteem more than ourselves.
+
+We love those who admire us, not those whom we admire.
+
+Most of the friendships of the world ill deserve the name of
+friendship; still, a man may make occasional use of them, as in a
+business where the profits are uncertain and it is usual to be cheated.
+
+It is more dishonourable to mistrust a friend than to be deceived by
+him.
+
+We are fond of exaggerating the love our friends bear us, but it is
+less from a feeling of gratitude than from a desire to advertise our
+own merits.
+
+What usually hinders us from revealing the depths of our hearts to
+our friends is not so much the distrust which we have of them as the
+distrust that we have of ourselves.
+
+We confess our little defects merely to persuade our friends that we
+have no great failings.
+
+The greatest effort of friendship is not to show our defects to a
+friend, but to make him see his own.
+
+Sincerity is an opening of the heart. It is found in exceedingly few
+people, and what passes for it is only a subtle dissimulation used to
+attract confidence.
+
+We can love nothing except in relation to ourselves, and we merely
+follow our own bent and pleasure when we prefer our friends to
+ourselves; yet it is only by this preference that friendship can be
+made true and perfect.
+
+It seems as if self-love is the dupe of kindness and that it is
+forgotten while we are working for the benefit of other men. In this
+case, however, our self-love is merely taking the safest road to arrive
+at its ends; it is lending at usury under the pretext of giving, it is
+aiming at winning all the world by subtle and delicate means.
+
+The first impulses of joy excited in us by the good fortune of our
+friends proceed neither from our good nature nor from the friendship
+we have for them; it is an effect of self-love that flatters us with
+the hope either of being fortunate in our turn or of drawing some
+advantage from their prosperity.
+
+What makes us so eager to form new acquaintances is not the mere
+pleasure of change or a weariness of old friendships, so much as a
+disgust at not being enough admired by those who know us too well, and
+a hope of winning more admiration from persons who do not know much
+about us.
+
+
+_III.--Things of the Mind_
+
+The mind is always the dupe of the heart. Those who are acquainted with
+their own mind are not acquainted with their own heart.
+
+The mind is more indolent than the body.
+
+It is the mark of fine intellects to explain many things in a few
+words; little minds have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing.
+
+We speak but little when vanity does not make us speak.
+
+A spirit of confidence helps on conversation more than brilliance of
+mind does.
+
+True eloquence consists of saying all that is necessary, and nothing
+more.
+
+A man may be witty and still be a fool; judgment is the source of
+wisdom.
+
+A man does not please for very long when he has but one kind of wit.
+
+It is a mistake to imagine that wit and judgment are two distinct
+things; judgment is only the perfection of wit, which pierces into the
+recesses of things and there perceives what from the outside seems to
+be imperceptible.
+
+A man of intelligence would often be at a loss were it not for the
+company of fools.
+
+It is not so much fertility of mind that leads us to discover many
+expedients in regard to a single matter, as a defect of intelligence,
+that makes us stop at everything presented to our imagination, and
+hinders us from discerning at once which is the best course.
+
+Some old men like to give good advice to console themselves for being
+no longer in a state to give a bad example.
+
+No man of sound good sense strikes us as such unless he is of our way
+of thinking.
+
+Stiffness of opinion comes from pettiness of mind; we do not easily
+believe in anything that is beyond our range of vision.
+
+Good taste is based on judgment rather than on intelligence.
+
+It is more often through pride than through any want of enlightenment
+that men set themselves stubbornly to oppose the most current opinions;
+finding all the best places taken on the popular side, they do not want
+those in the rear.
+
+In order to understand things well one must know the detail of them;
+and as this is almost infinite, our knowledge is always superficial and
+imperfect.
+
+It is never so difficult to talk well as when we are ashamed of our
+silence.
+
+The excessive pleasure we feel in talking about ourselves ought to make
+us apprehensive that we afford little to our listeners.
+
+Truth has not done so much good in the world as the false appearances
+of it have done harm.
+
+Man's chief wisdom consists in being sensible of his follies.
+
+
+_IV.--Human Life and Human Nature_
+
+Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of reason.
+
+The passions of youth are scarcely more opposed to salvation than the
+lukewarmness of old persons.
+
+There is not enough material in a fool to make a good man out of him.
+
+We have more strength than will, and it is often to excuse ourselves to
+ourselves that we imagine things are impossible.
+
+There are few things impossible in themselves; it is the application to
+achieve them that we lack more than the means.
+
+It is a mistake to imagine that only the more violent passions, such as
+ambition and love, can triumph over the rest. Idleness often masters
+them all. It indeed influences all our designs and actions, and
+insensibly destroys both our vices and our virtues.
+
+Idleness is of all our passions that which is most unknown to
+ourselves. It is the most ardent and the most malign of all, though we
+do not feel its working, and the harm which it does is hidden. If we
+consider its power attentively, we shall see that in every struggle it
+triumphs over our feelings, our interests, and our pleasures. To give a
+true idea of this passion it is necessary to add that idleness is like
+a beatitude of the soul which consoles it for all its losses and serves
+in place of all its wealth.
+
+The gratitude of most men is only a secret desire to receive greater
+favours.
+
+We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits than those from
+whom we receive them.
+
+It is less dangerous to do harm to most men than to do them too much
+good.
+
+If we had no defects ourselves we should not take so much pleasure in
+observing the failings of others.
+
+One man may be more cunning than another man, but he cannot be more
+cunning than all the world.
+
+Mankind has made a virtue of moderation in order to limit the ambition
+of great men and to console mediocre people for their scanty fortune
+and their scanty merit.
+
+We should often be ashamed of our finest actions if the world saw all
+the motives that produced them.
+
+Our desire to speak of ourselves, and to reveal our defects in the
+best light in which we can show them, constitutes a great part of our
+sincerity.
+
+The shame that arises from undeserved praise often leads us to do
+things which we should not otherwise have attempted.
+
+The labours of the body free us from the pains of the mind. It is this
+that constitutes the happiness of the poor.
+
+It is more necessary to study men than to study books.
+
+The truly honest man is he who sets no value on himself.
+
+Censorious as the world is, it is oftener favourable to false merit
+than unjust to true.
+
+It is not enough to possess great qualities; we must know how to use
+them.
+
+He who lives without folly is not so wise as he fancies.
+
+Good manners are the least of all laws and the most strictly observed.
+
+Everybody complains of a lack of memory, nobody of a lack of judgment.
+
+The love of justice is nothing more than a fear of injustice.
+
+Passion often makes a fool of a man of sense, and sometimes it makes a
+fool a man of sense.
+
+Nature seems to have hidden in the depth of our minds a skill and a
+talent of which we are ignorant; only our passions are able to bring
+them out and to give us sometimes surer and more complete views than we
+could arrive at by thought and study.
+
+Our passions are the only orators with an unfailing power of
+persuasion. They are an art of nature with infallible rules, and the
+simplest man who is possessed by passion is far more persuasive than
+the most eloquent speaker who is not moved by feeling.
+
+As we grow old we grow foolish as well as wise.
+
+Few people know how to grow old.
+
+Death and the sun are things one cannot look at steadily.
+
+
+_V.--Virtues and Vices_
+
+Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue.
+
+Our vices are commonly disguised virtues.
+
+Virtue would not go far if vanity did not go with her.
+
+Prosperity is a stronger test of virtue than misfortune is.
+
+Men blame vice and praise virtue only through self-interest.
+
+Great souls are not those which have less passions and more virtues
+than common souls, but those which have larger ambitions.
+
+Of all our virtues one might say what an Italian poet has said of the
+honesty of women, "that it is often nothing but an art of pretending to
+be honest."
+
+Virtues are lost in self-interest, as rivers are in the sea.
+
+To the honour of virtue it must be acknowledged that the greatest
+misfortunes befall men from their vices.
+
+When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them.
+
+Feebleness is more opposed to vice than virtue is.
+
+What makes the pangs of shame and jealousy so sharp is that our vanity
+cannot help us to support them.
+
+What makes the vanity of other persons so intolerable is that it hurts
+our own.
+
+We have not the courage to say in general that we have no defects, and
+that our enemies have no good qualities; but in matters of detail we
+are not very far from believing it.
+
+If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others Would not injure
+us.
+
+We sometimes think we dislike flattery; we only dislike the way in
+which we are flattered.
+
+Flattery is a kind of bad money to which our vanity gives currency.
+
+Self-love, as it happens to be well or ill-conducted, constitutes
+virtue and vice.
+
+We are so prepossessed in our own favour that we often mistake for
+virtues those vices that bear some resemblance to them, and are
+artfully disguised by self-love.
+
+Nothing is so capable of lessening our self-love as the observation
+that we disapprove at one time what we approve at another.
+
+Self-love is the love of self, and of everything for the sake of self.
+When fortune gives the means, self-love makes men idolise themselves
+and tyrannise over others. It never rests or fixes itself anywhere
+outside its home. If it settle on external things, it is only as the
+bee does on flowers, to extract what may be serviceable. Nothing is so
+impetuous as its desires, nothing so secret as its designs, nothing so
+adroit as its conduct. We can neither fathom the depth, nor penetrate
+the obscurity of its abyss. There, concealed from the most piercing
+eye, it makes numberless turnings and windings; there is it often
+invisible even to itself; there it conceives, breeds, and cherishes,
+without being aware of it, an infinity of likings and hatreds; some
+of which are so monstrous that, having given birth to them, self-love
+either does not recognize them, or cannot bear to own them. From the
+darkness which covers self-love spring the ridiculous notions which it
+entertains of itself; thence its errors, ignorance, and silly mistakes;
+thence it imagines that its feelings are dead when they are but asleep;
+and thinks that it has lost all appetite when it is for the moment
+sated.
+
+But the thick mist which hides it from itself does not hinder it from
+seeing perfectly whatever is without; and thus it resembles the eye,
+that sees all things except itself. In great concerns and important
+affairs, where the violence of its desire excites its whole attention,
+it sees, perceives, understands, invents, suspects, penetrates, and
+divines all things; so that one is tempted to believe that each of its
+passions has its peculiar magic.
+
+Its desires are inflamed by itself rather than by the beauty and merit
+of the objects; its own taste heightens and embellishes them; itself
+is the game it pursues, and its own inclination is what is followed
+rather than the things which seem to be the objects of its inclination.
+Composed of contrarieties, it is imperious and obedient, sincere and
+hypocritical, merciful and cruel, timid and bold. Its desires tend,
+according to the diverse moods that direct it, sometimes to glory,
+sometimes to wealth, sometimes to pleasure. These are changed as age
+and experience alter; and whether it has many inclinations or only one
+is a matter of indifference, because it can split itself into many or
+collect itself into one just as is convenient or agreeable.
+
+It is inconstant; and numberless are the changes, besides those which
+happen from external causes, which proceed from its own nature.
+Inconstant through levity, through love, through novelty, through
+satiety, through disgust, through inconstancy itself. Capricious; and
+sometimes labouring with eagerness and incredible pains to obtain
+things that are in no way advantageous, nay, even hurtful, but which
+are pursued merely as a passion. Whimsical, and often exerting intense
+application in the most trifling employments; taking delight in the
+most insipid things, and preserving all its haughtiness in the most
+contemptible pursuits. Attendant on all ages and conditions; living
+everywhere; living on everything; living on nothing. Easy in either
+the enjoyment, or privation of things. Going over to those who are at
+variance with it; even entering into their schemes; and, wonderful!
+joining with them, it hates itself; conspires its own destruction;
+labours to be undone; desires only to exist; and, that granted,
+consents to be its own enemy.
+
+We are not therefore to be surprised if sometimes, uniting with the
+most rigid austerity, it enters boldly into a combination against
+itself; because what is lost in one respect is regained in another.
+When we think it relinquishes pleasures, it only suspends or changes
+them; and even when discomforted, and we seem to be rid of it, we
+find it triumphant in its own defeat. Such is self-love!--of which
+man's whole life is only a strong, a continued agitation. The sea
+is a striking image of it, and in the flux and reflux of the waves,
+self-love may find a lively expression of the turbulent succession of
+its thoughts, and of its eternal agitation.
+
+
+
+
+LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+Treatise on Painting
+
+  Leonardo Da Vinci was born in 1452 at Anchiano, near Vinci,
+  in Tuscany, the son of a Florentine notary. Trained in the
+  workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, he became one of the greatest
+  and most versatile artists of the Renaissance. Indeed, he must
+  be considered one of the master-minds of all times, for there
+  was scarcely a sphere of human knowledge in which he did not
+  excel and surpass his contemporaries. He was not only preeminent
+  as painter, sculptor, and architect, but was an accomplished
+  musician, poet, and improvisatore, an engineer--able to construct
+  canals, roads, fortifications, ships, and war-engines of every
+  description--an inventor of rare musical instruments, and a great
+  organiser of f�tes and pageants. Few of his artistic creations
+  have come down to us; but his profound knowledge of art and
+  science, and the wide range of his intellect are fully revealed
+  in the scattered leaves of his notebooks, which are now preserved
+  in the British Museum, the Biblioth�que Nationale in Paris, the
+  Ambrosiani in Milan, and other collections. The first edition of
+  the "Treatise on Painting" was a compilation from these original
+  notes, published at Paris in 1651. Leonardo died at Cloux on May
+  2, 1519.
+
+
+_From Da Vinci's Notebooks_
+
+The eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the principal means
+whereby our intelligence may most fully and splendidly comprehend the
+infinite works of nature; and the ear comes next, by gaining importance
+through hearing the things that have been perceived by the eye. If you
+historians or poets, or mathematicians, had not seen things with your
+eyes, badly would you describe them in your writings. If you, O poet,
+call painting dumb poetry, the painter might say of the poet's writing
+blind painting. Now consider, which taunt is more mordant--to be called
+blind or dumb?
+
+If the poet is as free in invention as the painter, yet his fiction
+is not as satisfying to mankind as is painting, for whereas poetry
+endeavours with words to represent forms, actions, and scenes, the
+painter's business is to imitate forms with the images of these very
+forms. Take the case of a poet, describing the beauties of a woman
+to her lover, and that of a painter depicting her; you will soon see
+whither nature will attract the enamoured judge. And should not the
+proof of things be the verdict of experience?
+
+If you say that poetry is more enduring, I may reply that the works
+of a coppersmith are more enduring still, since time has preserved
+them longer than your works or ours; yet they are less imaginative,
+and painting, if done with enamels on copper, can be made far more
+enduring. We, in our art, may be said to be grandsons unto God. If you
+despise painting, which is the sole imitator of all the visible works
+of nature, then you certainly despise a subtle invention which, with
+philosophical and ingenious reflection, considers all the properties of
+forms, airs, and scenes, trees, animals, grasses and flowers, which are
+surrounded by light and shade.
+
+And this is a science and the true-born daughter of nature, since
+painting is born of this self-same nature. But, in order to speak more
+correctly, let us call it the grandchild of nature, because all visible
+things are produced by nature, and from these same things is born
+painting. Wherefore we may rightly call it the grandchild of nature,
+related to God Himself.
+
+
+_How Sculpture is Less Intellectual_
+
+Being sculptor no less than painter, and practising both arts in the
+same degree, it seems to me that I may without arrogance pronounce how
+one of them is more intellectual, difficult, and perfect than the other.
+
+Firstly, sculpture is subject to a certain light--namely, from
+above--and painting carries everywhere with it light and shade. Light
+and shade are, therefore, the essentials in sculpture. In this respect
+the sculptor is aided by the nature of the relief, which produces these
+of its own accord; the painter introduces them by his art where nature
+would reasonably place them. The sculptor cannot reproduce the varying
+nature of the colours of objects; painting lacks nothing in this
+respect. The sculptor's perspectives never seem true, but the painter's
+lead the eye hundreds of miles into the work. Aerial perspective
+is alien to their work. They can neither represent transparent nor
+luminous bodies, neither reflected rays nor shiny surfaces like mirrors
+and similar glittering bodies; no mist, no dull sky, nor countless
+other things, which I refrain from mentioning to avoid getting
+wearisome. It has the advantage that it offers greater resistance to
+time, although enamels on copper fused in fire have equal power of
+resistance. Thus painting surpasses sculpture even in durability.
+
+Were you to speak only of painting on panels, I should be content to
+give the verdict against sculpture by saying: Whilst painting is more
+beautiful, more imaginative, and more resourceful, sculpture is more
+durable; and this is all that can be said for it. It reveals with
+little effort what it is. Painting seems a miraculous thing, making
+things intangible appear tangible, presenting flat objects in relief,
+and distant near at hand. Indeed, painting is adorned with endless
+possibilities that are not used by sculpture.
+
+Painters fight and compete with nature.
+
+
+_Of the Ten Offices of the Eye_
+
+Painting extends over all the ten offices of the eye--namely, darkness,
+light, body and colour, figure and scenery, distance and nearness,
+movement and repose--all of which offices will be woven through this
+little work of mine. For I will remind the painter by what rule and in
+what manner he shall use his art to imitate all these things, the work
+of nature and the ornament of the world.
+
+
+_Rule for Beginners in Painting_
+
+We know clearly that sight is one of the swiftest actions in existence,
+perceiving in one moment countless forms. Nevertheless, it cannot
+comprehend more than one thing at a time. Suppose, for instance, you,
+reader, were to cast a single glance upon this entire written page and
+were to decide at once that it is full of different letters; but you
+will not be able to recognize in this space of time either what letters
+they are or what they purport to say. Therefore, you must take word by
+word, verse by verse, in order to gain knowledge from these letters.
+Again, if you want to reach the summit of a building, you must submit
+to climbing step by step, else it would be impossible for you to reach
+the top. And so I say to you, whom nature inclines to this art, if you
+would have a true knowledge of the form of things, begin with their
+details, and don't pass on to the second before the first is well fixed
+in your memory, else you will waste your time.
+
+Perspective is the rein and rudder of painting.
+
+I say whatever is forced within a border is more difficult than what is
+free. Shadows have in certain degrees their borders, and he who ignores
+them cannot obtain roundness, which roundness is the essence and soul
+of painting. Drawing is free, since, if you see countless faces, they
+will all be different--the one has a long, the other a short nose. Thus
+the painter may take this liberty, and where is liberty, is no rule.
+
+
+_Precepts for Painting_
+
+The painter should endeavour to be universal, because he is lacking
+in dignity if he do one thing well and another thing badly, like so
+many who only study the well-proportionate nude and not its variations,
+because a man may be proportionate and yet be short and stout, or
+long and thin. And he who does not bear in mind these variations will
+get his figures stereotyped, so that they all seem to be brothers and
+sisters, which deserves to be censured severely.
+
+Let the sketching of histories be swift and the articulation not too
+perfect. Be satisfied with suggesting the position of the limbs, which
+you may afterwards carry to completion at your leisure and as you
+please.
+
+Methinks it is no small grace in a painter if he give a pleasing air
+to his figures, a grace which, if it be not one's own by nature, may
+be acquired by study, as follows. Try to take the best parts from many
+beautiful faces, whose beauty is affirmed by public fame rather than
+by your own judgment, for you may deceive yourself by taking faces
+which resemble your own. For it would often seem that such similarities
+please us; and if you were ugly you would not select beautiful faces,
+and you would make ugly ones, like many painters whose types often
+resemble their master. Therefore, take beautiful features, as I tell
+you, and commit them to your memory.
+
+Monstrous is he who has a very large head and short legs, and monstrous
+he who with rich garments has great poverty; therefore we shall call
+him well proportioned whose every part corresponds with his whole.
+
+
+_On the Choice of Light_
+
+If you had a courtyard, which you could cover at will with a canvas
+awning, this light would be good; or when you wish to paint somebody,
+paint him in bad weather, or at the hour of dusk, placing the sitter
+with his back to one of the walls of this courtyard.
+
+Observe in the streets at the fall of the evening the faces of men and
+women when it is bad weather, what grace and sweetness then appear to
+be theirs.
+
+Therefore, you should have a courtyard, prepared with walls painted in
+black, and with the roof projecting a little over the said wall. And it
+should be ten _braccia_ [ten fathoms] in width, and twenty in length
+and ten in height; and when the sun shines you should cover it over
+with the awning, or you should paint an hour before evening, when it is
+cloudy or misty. For this is the most perfect light.
+
+
+_Of the Gesture of Figures_
+
+You should give your figures such movement as will suffice to show
+what is passing in the mind of the figure; else your art would not be
+praiseworthy. A figure is not worthy of praise if it do not express by
+some gesture the passion of the soul. That figure is most worthy of
+praise which best expresses by its gesture the passion of its nature.
+
+If you have to represent an honest man talking, see that his action be
+companion to his good words; and again, if you have to depict a bestial
+man, give him wild movements--his arms thrown towards the spectator,
+and his head pressed towards his chest, his legs apart.
+
+
+_The Judgment of Painting_
+
+We know well that mistakes are more easily detected in the works of
+others than in one's own, and often, while censuring the small faults
+of others, you do not recognise your own great faults. In order to
+escape such ignorance, have a care that you be, above all, sure of your
+perspective; then acquire full knowledge of the proportions of man and
+other animals. And, moreover, be a good architect; that is, in so far
+as it is necessary for the form of the buildings and other things that
+are upon the earth, and that are infinitely varied in form.
+
+The more knowledge you have of these, the more worthy of praise will be
+your work. And for those things in which you have no practice, do not
+disdain to copy from nature. When you are painting, you should take a
+flat mirror and often look at your work within it. It will be seen in
+reverse, and will appear to be by some other master, and you will be
+better able to judge of its faults than in any other way. It is also a
+good plan every now and then to go away and have a little relaxation,
+for then, when you come back to the work, your judgment will be surer,
+since to remain constantly at work will cause you to lose the power of
+judgment.
+
+Surely, while one paints one should not reject any man's judgment; for
+we know very well that a man, even if he be no painter, has knowledge
+of the forms of another man, and will judge aright whether he is
+hump-backed, or has one shoulder too high or too low, or whether he has
+too large a mouth or nose, or other faults; and if we are able rightly
+to judge the work of nature in men, how much more is it fit to admit
+that they are able to judge our mistakes.
+
+You know how much man may be deceived about his own works, and if you
+do not know it of yourself, observe it in others, and you will derive
+benefit from other people's mistakes. Therefore, you should be eager
+to listen patiently to the views of other men and consider and reflect
+carefully whether he who finds fault is right or not in blaming you. If
+you find that he is right, correct your work; but if not, pretend not
+to have understood him; or show him, if he be a man whom you respect,
+by sound argument, why it is that he is mistaken in finding fault.
+
+
+_Do Not Disdain to Work from Nature_
+
+A master who let it be understood that his mind could retain all the
+forms and effects of nature, I should certainly hold to be endowed with
+great ignorance, since the said effects are infinite, and our memory is
+not of such capacity as to suffice thereto. Therefore, O painter, see
+that the greed for gain do not outweigh within you the honour of art,
+for to gain in honour is a far greater thing than to be honoured for
+wealth.
+
+For these and other reasons that might be adduced, you should endeavour
+first to demonstrate to the eye, by means of drawing, a suggestion
+of the intention and of the invention originated first by your
+imagination. Then proceed, taking from it or adding to it, until you
+are satisfied with it. Then have men arranged as models, draped or
+nude, in the manner in which they are disposed in your work, and make
+the proportions and size in accordance with perspective, so that no
+part of the work remains that is not counselled by reason as well as by
+nature.
+
+And this will be the way to make you honoured through your art. First
+of all, copy drawings by a good master made by his art from nature, and
+not as exercises; then from a relief, keeping by you a drawing done
+from the same relief; then from a good model, and of this you ought to
+make a general practice.
+
+
+_Of the Painter's Life in His Study_
+
+The painter or draughtsman should be solitary, so that physical comfort
+may not injure the thriving of the mind, especially when he is occupied
+with the observations and considerations which ever offer themselves to
+his eye and provide material to be treasured up by the memory. If you
+are alone, you belong wholly to yourself; and if you are accompanied
+even by one companion, you belong only half to yourself; and if you
+are with several of them, you will be even more subject to such
+inconveniences.
+
+And if you should say, "I shall take my own course, I shall keep apart,
+so that I may be the better able to contemplate the forms of natural
+objects," then I reply, this cannot well be, because you cannot help
+frequently lending your ear to their gossip; and since nobody can serve
+two masters at once, you will badly fulfil your duties as companion,
+and you will have worse success in artistic contemplation. And if you
+should say, "I shall keep so far apart that their words cannot reach me
+or disturb me," then I reply in this case that you will be looked upon
+as mad. And do you not perceive that, in acting thus, you would really
+be solitary?
+
+
+_Of Ways to Represent Various Scenes_
+
+A man in despair you should make turning his knife against himself. He
+should have rent his garments, and he should be in the act of tearing
+open his wound with one hand. And you should make him with his feet
+apart and his legs somewhat bent, and the whole figure likewise bending
+to the ground, with dishevelled and untidy hair.
+
+As a rule, he whom you wish to represent talking to many people will
+consider the subject of which he has to treat, and will fit his
+gestures to this subject--that is to say, if the subject is persuasion,
+the gestures should serve this intention; if the subject is explanation
+by various reasons, he who speaks should take a finger of his left hand
+between two fingers of his right, keeping the two smaller ones pressed
+together; his face should be animated and turned towards the people,
+his mouth slightly opened, so that he seems to be talking. And if he
+is seated, let him seem to be in the act of slightly raising himself,
+with his head forward; and if he is standing, make him lean forward
+a little, with his head towards the people, whom you should represent
+silent and attentive, all watching, with gestures of admiration, the
+orator's face. Some old men should have their mouths drawn down at the
+corners in astonishment at what they hear, drawing back the cheeks in
+many furrows, and raising their eyebrows where they meet, so as to
+produce many wrinkles on their foreheads. Some who are seated should
+hold their tired knees between the interlaced fingers of their hands,
+and others should cross one knee over the other, and place upon it one
+hand, so that its hollow supports the other elbow, whose hand again
+supports the bearded chin.
+
+Whatever is wholly deprived of light is complete darkness. Night being
+in this condition, if you wish to represent a scene therein, you must
+contrive to have a great fire in this night, and everything that is in
+closer proximity to this fire will assume more of its colour, because
+the nearer a thing is to another object, the more it partakes of its
+nature. And since you will make the fire incline towards a red colour,
+you will have to give a reddish tinge to all things lighted by it, and
+those which are farther away from the fire will have to hold more of
+the black colour of night. The figures which are between you and the
+fire appear dark against the brightness of the flame, for that part of
+the object which you perceive is coloured by the darkness of night,
+and not by the brightness of the fire; and those which flank the fire
+will be half dark and half reddish. Those which are behind the flames
+will be altogether illuminated by a reddish light against the black
+background.
+
+If you wish to represent a tempest properly, observe and set down the
+effects of the wind blowing over the face of the sea and of the land,
+raising and carrying away everything that is not firmly rooted in the
+general mass. And in order properly to represent this tempest, you
+should first of all show the riven and torn clouds swept along by the
+wind, together with the sandy dust blown up from the seashore, and with
+branches and leaves caught up and scattered through the air, together
+with many other light objects, by the power of the furious wind. The
+trees and shrubs, bent to the ground, seem to desire to follow the
+direction of the wind, with branches twisted out of their natural
+growth, and their foliage tossed and inverted.
+
+Of the men who are present, some who are thrown down and entangled with
+their garments and covered with dust should be almost unrecognisable;
+and those who are left standing may be behind some tree which they
+embrace, so that the storm should not carry them off. Others, bent
+down, their garments and hair streaming in the wind, should hold their
+hands before their eyes because of the dust.
+
+Let the turbulent and tempestuous sea be covered with eddying foam
+between the rising waves, and let the wind carry fine spray into the
+stormy air to resemble a thick and all-enveloping mist. Of the ships
+that are there, show some with rent sails, whose shreds should flap in
+the air, together with some broken halyards; masts splintered, tumbled,
+with the ship itself broken by the fury of the waves; some human
+beings, shrieking, and clinging to the wreckage of the vessel. You
+should show the clouds, chased by the impetuous wind, hurled against
+the high tops of the mountains, wreathing and eddying like waves that
+beat against the cliffs. The air should strike terror through the murky
+darkness caused by the dust, the mist, and the heavy clouds.
+
+
+_To Learn to Work from Memory_
+
+If you want properly to commit to your memory something that you
+have learnt, proceed in this manner--namely, when you have drawn one
+object so often that you believe you can remember it, try to draw it
+without the model, after having traced your model on a thin sheet of
+glass. This glass you will then lay upon the drawing which you have
+made without model. Observe well where the tracing does not tally with
+your drawing, and wherever you find that you have gone wrong, you must
+remember not to go wrong again. You should even return to the model,
+in order again to draw the wrong passage until it shall be fixed in
+your memory. And if you have no level sheet of glass for tracing, take
+a very thin sheet of goat-parchment, well oiled, and then dried. And
+after the tracing has done service for your drawing, you can efface it
+with a sponge and use it again for another tracing.
+
+
+_On Studying in Bed_
+
+I have experienced upon myself that it is of no small benefit if, when
+you are in bed, you apply your imagination to repeating the superficial
+lines of the forms which you have been studying, or to other remarkable
+things which are comprehensible to a fine intellect. This is a
+praiseworthy and useful action which will help you to fix things in
+your memory.
+
+
+
+
+GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING
+
+Laocoon
+
+  In 1766, while acting as secretary to the governor of Breslau,
+  Lessing wrote his celebrated "Laocoon," a critical treatise
+  defining the limits of poetry and the plastic arts. The epitome
+  given here has been prepared from the German text. A short
+  biographical sketch of Lessing appears in the introduction to his
+  play, "Nathan the Wise," appearing in Volume XVII of THE WORLD'S
+  GREATEST BOOKS.
+
+
+_I.--On the Limits of Painting and Poetry_
+
+Winkelman has pronounced a noble simplicity and quiet grandeur,
+displayed in the posture no less than in the expression, to be the
+characteristic feature common to all the Greek masterpieces of painting
+and sculpture. "As," says he, "the depths of the sea always remain
+calm, however violently the surface may rage, so the expression in the
+figures of the Greeks, under every form of passion, shows a great and
+self-collected soul.
+
+"This spirit is portrayed in the countenance of Laocoon, but not in
+the countenance alone. Even under the most violent suffering the
+pain discovers itself in every muscle and sinew of his body, and the
+beholder, while looking at the agonised conditions of the stomach,
+without viewing the face and other parts, believes that he almost feels
+the pain himself. The pain expresses itself without any violence, both
+in the features and in the whole posture. Laocoon suffers, but he
+suffers as the Philoctetes of Sophocles. His misery pierces us to the
+very soul, but inspires us with a wish that we could endure misery like
+that great man.
+
+"The expressing of so great a soul is far higher than the painting of
+beautiful nature. The artist must feel within himself that strength of
+spirit which he would imprint on his marble. Greece had philosophers
+and artists in one person. Philosophy gave her hand to art, and
+inspired its figures with no ordinary souls."
+
+The above remarks are founded on the argument that "the pain in
+the face of Laocoon does not show itself with that force which its
+intensity would have led us to expect." This is correct. But I confess
+I differ from Winkelman as to what, in his opinion, is the basis of
+this wisdom, and as to the universality of the rule which he deduces
+from it. I acknowledge I was startled, first by the glances of
+disapproval which he casts on Virgil, and, secondly, by the comparison
+with Philoctetes. From this point I shall begin, writing down my
+thoughts as they were developed in me.
+
+"Laocoon suffers as does the Philoctetes of Sophocles." But how does
+this last suffer? It is curious that his sufferings should leave such a
+different impression behind them. The cries and mild imprecations with
+which he filled the camp and interrupted the sacrifices echoed through
+the desolate island. The same sounds of despair fill the theatre in the
+poet's imitation.
+
+A cry is the natural expression of bodily pain. Homer's wounded heroes
+frequently fall to the ground with cries. They are in their actions
+beings of higher order; in their feelings, true men.
+
+We more civilised and refined Europeans of a wiser and later age are
+forbidden to cry and weep, and even our ancestors were taught to
+suppress lamentation at loss, and to die laughing under the bites of
+adders. Not so the Greeks. They felt and feared, and gave utterance to
+pain and sorrow, only nothing must hold them back from duty.
+
+Now for my inference. If it be true that, a cry at the sensation of
+bodily pain, according to the old Greek way of thinking, is quite
+compatible with greatness of soul, it cannot have been for the sake of
+expressing such greatness that the artist avoided imitating his shriek
+in marble. Another reason must be found for his deviation from his
+rival, the poet, who has expressed it with the happiest results.
+
+Be it fable or history, it is love that made the first essay in the
+plastic arts, and never wearied of guiding the hands of the masters
+of old. Painting now may be defined generally as "the imitation of
+bodies of matter on a level surface"; but the wise Greek allotted for
+it narrower limits, and confined it to imitations of the beautiful
+only; his artists painted nothing else. It was the perfection of their
+work that absorbed them. Among the ancients beauty was the highest
+law of the plastic arts. To beauty everything was subordinated. There
+are passions by which all beautiful physical lines are lost through
+the distortion of the body, but from all such emotions the ancient
+masters abstained entirely. Rage and despair disgrace none of their
+productions, and I dare maintain that they never painted a fury.
+
+Indignation was softened down to seriousness. Grief was lessened into
+mournfulness. All know how Timanthes in his painting of the sacrifice
+of Iphigenia shows the sorrow of the bystanders, but has concealed
+the face of the father, who should show it more than all. He left to
+conjecture what he might not paint. This concealment is a sacrifice to
+beauty by the artist, and it shows how art's first law is the law of
+beauty.
+
+Now apply this to Laocoon. The master aimed at the highest beauty
+compatible with the adopted circumstances of bodily pain. He must
+soften shrieks into sighs. For only imagine the mouth of Laocoon to be
+forced open, and then judge.
+
+But art in modern times has been allowed a far wider sphere. It has
+been affirmed that its limitations extend over the whole of visible
+nature, of which the beautiful is but a small part. And as nature is
+ever ready to sacrifice beauty to higher aims, so should the artist
+render it subordinate to his general design. But are there not
+other considerations which compel the artist to put certain limits
+to expression, and prevent him from ever drawing it at its highest
+intensity?
+
+I believe that the fact that it is to a single moment that the material
+limits of art confine all its limitations, will lead us to similar
+views.
+
+If the artist out of ever-varying nature can only make use of a single
+moment, while his works are meant to stand the test not only of a
+passing glance, but of a long and repeated contemplation, it is clear
+that this moment cannot be chosen too happily. Now that only is a
+happy choice which allows the imagination free scope. In the whole
+course of a feeling there is no moment which possesses this advantage
+so little as its highest stage. There is nothing beyond this, and the
+presentation of extremes to the eye clips the wings of fancy, prevents
+her from soaring beyond the impression of the senses, and compels
+her to occupy herself with weaker images. Thus if Laocoon sighs, the
+imagination can hear him shriek; but if he shrieks, it can neither
+rise above nor descend below this representation without seeing him
+in a condition which, as it will be more endurable, becomes less
+interesting. It either hears him merely moaning, or sees him already
+dead.
+
+Of the frenzied Ajax of Timomachus we can form some judgment from the
+account of Philoctetes. Ajax does not appear raging among herds and
+slaughtering cattle instead of men; but the master exhibits him sitting
+wearied with these deeds of insanity, and that is really the raging
+Ajax. We can form the most lively idea of the extremity of his frenzy
+from the shame and despair which he himself feels at the thought of it.
+We see the storm in the wrecks and corpses which it had strewn on the
+beach.
+
+
+_II.--The Poet_
+
+Perhaps hardly any of the above remarks concerning the necessary limits
+of the artist would be found equally applicable to poetry. It is
+undeniable that the whole realm of the perfectly excellent lies open
+to the imitation of the poet, that excellence of outward form which we
+call beauty being only one of the least of the means by which he can
+interest us in his characters.
+
+Moreover, the poet is not compelled to concentrate his picture into
+a single moment. He can take up every action of his hero at its
+source, and pursue it to its issue through all possible variations.
+Each of these, which would cost the artist a separate work, costs the
+poet but a single trait. What wonderful skill has Sophocles shown in
+strengthening and enlarging, in his tragedy of Philoctetes, the idea
+of bodily pain! He chose a wound, and not an internal malady, because
+the former admits of a more lively representation than the latter.
+This wound was, moreover, a punishment divinely decreed. But to the
+Greeks a wound from a poisoned arrow was but an ordinary incident. Why,
+then, in the case of Philoctetes only was it followed by such dreadful
+consequences?
+
+Sophocles felt full well that, however great he made the bodily pain to
+his hero, it would not have sufficed of itself to excite any remarkable
+degree of sympathy. He therefore combined it with other evils--the
+complete lack of society, hunger, and all the hardships to which such a
+man under terrible privations is exposed when cast on a wild, deserted
+isle of the Cyclades.
+
+Imagine, now, a man in these conditions, but give him health and
+strength and industry, and he becomes a Crusoe, whose lot, though not
+indifferent to us, has no great claim on our sympathy. On the other
+hand, imagine a man afflicted by a painful and incurable disease, but
+at the same time surrounded by kind friends. For him we should feel
+sympathy, yet this would not endure throughout. Only when both cases
+are combined do we see nothing but despair, which excites our amazement
+and horror. Typical beauty arises from the harmonious effect of
+numerous parts, all of which the sight is capable of comprehending at
+the same time. It requires, therefore, that these parts should lie near
+each other; and since things whose parts lie near each other are the
+peculiar objects of plastic beauty, these it is, and these only, which
+can imitate typical beauty. The poet, since he can only exhibit in
+succession its component parts, entirely abstains from the description
+of typical beauty. He feels that these parts, ranged one after the
+other, cannot possibly have the effect they produce when closely
+arranged together.
+
+In this respect Homer is a pattern of patterns. He says Nireus was
+beautiful, Achilles still more so, Helen was endowed with divine
+beauty. But nowhere does he enter on a detailed sketch of these
+beauties, and yet the whole Iliad is based on the loveliness of Helen.
+
+In this point, in which he can imitate Homer by merely doing nothing,
+Virgil is also tolerably happy. His heroine Dido, too, is never
+anything more than _pulcherrima_ Dido (loveliest Dido). When he wishes
+to be more circumstantial, he is so in the description of her rich
+dress and apparel.
+
+Lucian, also, was too acute to convey any idea of the body of Panthea
+otherwise than by reference to the most lovely female statues of the
+old artists.
+
+Yet what is this but the acknowledgment that language by itself is
+here without power; that poetry falters and eloquence grows speechless
+unless art in some measure serve them as an interpreter?
+
+But, it will be said, does not poetry lose too much if we deprive
+her of all objects of typical beauty? Who would deprive her of them?
+Because we would debar her from wandering among the footsteps of her
+sister art, without ever reaching the same goal as she, do we exclude
+her from every other, where art in her turn must gaze after her steps
+with fruitless longings?
+
+Even Homer, who so pointedly abstains from all detailed descriptions
+of typical beauties, from whom we but just learn that Helen had white
+arms and lovely hair, even he, with all this, knew how to convey to us
+an idea of her beauty which far exceeds anything that art is able to
+accomplish.
+
+
+_III.--Beauty and Charm_
+
+Again, another means which poetry possesses of rivalling art in the
+description of typical beauty is the change of beauty into charm.
+Charm is beauty in motion, and is for this very reason less suitable
+to the painter than to the poet. The painter can only leave motion to
+conjecture, while in fact his figures are motionless. Consequently,
+with him charm becomes grimace.
+
+But in poetry it remains what it is, a transitory beauty which we would
+gladly see repeated. It comes and goes, and since we can generally
+recall to our minds a movement more easily and vividly than forms
+or colours, charm necessarily in the same circumstances produces a
+stronger effect than beauty.
+
+Zeuxis painted a Helen, and had the courage to write below the picture
+those renowned lines of Homer in which the enraptured elders confess
+their sensations. Never had painting and poetry been engaged in such
+contest. The contest remained undecided, and both deserved the crown.
+
+For just as a wise poet showed us the beauty which he felt he could not
+paint according to its constituent parts, but merely in its effect, so
+the no less wise painter showed us that beauty by nothing but those
+parts, deeming it unbecoming for his art to resort to any other means
+for aid. His picture consisted of a single figure, undraped, of Helen,
+probably the one painted for the people of Crotona.
+
+In beauty a single unbecoming part may disturb the harmonious effect
+of many, without the object necessarily becoming ugly. For ugliness,
+too, requires several unbecoming parts, all of which we must be able
+to comprehend at the same view before we experience sensations the
+opposite of those which beauty produces.
+
+According to this, therefore, ugliness in its essence could be no
+subject of poetry; yet Homer has painted extreme ugliness in Thersites,
+and this ugliness is described according to its parts near each other.
+Why in the case of ugliness did he allow himself the license from which
+he had abstained in that of beauty? A successive enumeration of the
+elements of beauty will annihilate its effects. Will not a similar
+cause produce a similar effect in the case of ugliness?
+
+Undoubtedly it will; but it is in this very fact that the justification
+of Homer lies. The poet can only take advantage of ugliness so far as
+it is reduced in his description into the less repugnant appearance of
+bodily imperfection, and ceases, as it were, in point of effect, to be
+ugliness. Thus, what he cannot make use of by itself he can use as the
+ingredient for the purpose of producing and strengthening certain mixed
+sensations.
+
+These mixed feelings are the ridiculous and the horrible. Homer makes
+Thersites ugly in order to make him ridiculous. He is not made so,
+however, merely by his ugliness, for ugliness is an imperfection, and
+the contrast of perfection with imperfections is required to produce
+the ridiculous. To this I may add that the contrast must not be too
+sharp and glaring, and that the contrasts must blend into each other.
+
+The wise and virtuous �sop does not become ridiculous because of
+ugliness attributed to him. For his misshapen body and beautiful
+mind are as oil and vinegar; however much you shake them together,
+they always remain distinct to the taste. They will not amalgamate
+to produce a third quality. The body produces annoyance; the soul,
+pleasure; each has its own effect.
+
+It is only when the deformed body is also fragile and, sickly, when it
+impedes the soul, that the annoyance and pleasure melt into each other.
+
+For, let us suppose that the instigations of the malicious and snarling
+Thersites had resulted in mutiny, that the people had forsaken their
+leaders and departed in the ships, and that these leaders had been
+massacred by a revengeful foe. How would the ugliness of Thersites
+appear then? If ugliness, when harmless, may be ridiculous, when
+hurtful it is always horrible. In Shakespeare's "King Lear," Edmund,
+the bastard Count of Gloucester, is no less a villain than Richard,
+Duke of Gloucester, in "King Richard III." How is it, then, that the
+first excites our loathing so much less than the second? It is because
+when I hear the former, I listen to a devil, but see him as an angel of
+light; but in listening to Richard I hear a devil and see a devil.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN STUART MILL
+
+Essay on Liberty
+
+  Ten years elapsed between the publication of "Political Economy"
+  (see Vol. XIV, p. 294) and the "Essay on Liberty," Mill in the
+  meantime (1851) having married Mrs. John Taylor, a lady who
+  exercised no small influence on his philosophical position.
+  The seven years of his married life saw little or nothing from
+  his pen. The "Essay on Liberty," in many respects the most
+  carefully prepared of all his books, appeared in 1859, the
+  year following the death of his wife, in collaboration with
+  whom it was thought out and partly written. The treatise goes
+  naturally with that on "Utilitarianism." Both are succinct and
+  incisive in their reasoning, and both are grounded on similar
+  sociological principles. Perhaps the primary problem of politics
+  in all ages has been the reconciliation of individual and social
+  interests; and at the present day, when the problem appears to
+  be particularly troublesome, Mill's view of the situation is
+  of especial value. In recent time, legislation has certainly
+  tended to become more socialistic, and the doctrine of individual
+  liberty promulgated in this "Essay" has a most interesting
+  relevancy to modern social movements.
+
+
+_I.--Liberty of Thought and Discussion_
+
+Protection against popular government is as indispensable as protection
+against political despotism. The people may desire to oppress a part
+of their number, and precautions are needed against this as against
+any other abuse of power. So much will be readily granted by most, and
+yet no attempt has been made to find the fitting adjustment between
+individual independence and social control.
+
+The object of this essay is to assert the simple principle that the
+sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively,
+in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number
+is self-protection--that the only purpose for which power can be
+rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community,
+against his will, is to prevent harm to others, either by his action
+or inaction. The only part of the conduct of anyone for which he is
+amenable to society is that which concerns others. In the part which
+merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over
+himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.
+
+This principle requires, firstly, liberty of conscience in the most
+comprehensive sense, liberty of thought and feeling; absolute freedom
+of opinion and sentiment on all subjects, practical or speculative,
+scientific, moral, or theological--the liberty even of publishing
+and expressing opinions. Secondly, the principle requires liberty
+of tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to suit
+our own character; of doing as we like, so long as we do not harm
+our fellow-creatures. Thirdly, the principle requires liberty of
+combination among individuals for any purpose not involving harm to
+others, provided the persons are of full age and not forced or deceived.
+
+The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own
+good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others
+of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Mankind gains more
+by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves than by
+compelling each to live as seems good to the rest.
+
+Coercion in matters of thought and discussion must always be
+illegitimate. If all mankind save one were of one opinion, mankind
+would be no more justified in silencing the solitary individual than
+he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. The
+peculiar evil of silencing the expression of opinion is that it is
+robbing the whole human race, present and future--those who dissent
+from the opinion even more than those who hold it. For if the opinion
+is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for
+truth; and if wrong, they lose the clear and livelier impression of
+truth produced by its collision with error.
+
+All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility, and,
+as all history teaches, neither communities nor individuals are
+infallible. Men cannot be too often reminded of the condemnation of
+Socrates and of Christ, and of the persecution of the Christians by the
+noble-minded Marcus Aurelius.
+
+Enemies of religious freedom maintain that persecution is a good thing,
+for, even though it makes mistakes, it will root out error while it
+cannot extirpate truth. But history shows that even if truth cannot be
+finally extirpated, it may at least be put back centuries.
+
+We no longer put heretics to death; but we punish heresies with a
+social stigma almost as effective, since it may debar men from earning
+their bread. Social intolerance does not actually eradicate heresies,
+but it induces men to hide unpopular opinions. The result is that new
+and heretical opinions smoulder in the narrow circles of thinking and
+studious persons who originate them, and never light up the general
+affairs of mankind with either a true or deceptive light. The price
+paid for intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral
+courage of the human race. Who can compute what the world loses in the
+multitude of promising intellects too timid to follow out any bold,
+independent train of thought lest it might be considered irreligious
+or immoral? No one can be a great thinker who does not follow his
+intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. In a general atmosphere
+of mental slavery a few great thinkers may survive, but in such an
+atmosphere there never has been, and never will be, an intellectually
+active people; and all progress in the human mind and in human
+institutions may be traced to periods of mental emancipation.
+
+Even if an opinion be indubitably true and undoubtingly believed, it
+will be a dead dogma, and not a living truth, if it be not fully,
+frequently, and fearlessly discussed. If the cultivation of the
+understanding consists of one thing more than another, it is surely in
+learning the grounds of one's own opinions, and these can only be fully
+learned by facing the arguments that favour the opposite opinions. He
+who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. Unless he
+knows the difficulties which his truth has to encounter and conquer,
+he knows little of the force of his truth. Not only are the grounds of
+an opinion unformed or forgotten in the absence of discussion, but too
+often the very meaning of the opinion. When the mind is not compelled
+to exercise its powers on the questions which its belief presents to
+it, there is a progressive tendency to forget all of the belief except
+the formularies, until it almost ceases to connect itself at all with
+the inner life of the human being. In such cases a creed merely stands
+sentinel at the entrance of the mind and heart to keep them empty,
+as is so often seen in the case of the Christian creed as at present
+professed.
+
+So far we have considered only two possibilities--that the received
+opinion may be false and some other opinion consequently true, or that,
+the received opinion being true, a conflict with the opposite error is
+essential to a clear apprehension and deep feeling of the truth. But
+there is a commoner case still, when conflicting doctrines share the
+truth, and when the heretical doctrine completes the orthodox. Every
+opinion which embodies somewhat of the portion of the truth which the
+common opinion omits, ought to be considered precious with whatever
+amount of error and confusion it may be conjoined. In politics,
+again, it is almost a commonplace that a party of order or stability,
+and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary factors in a
+healthy political life. Unless opinions favourable to democracy and
+to aristocracy, to property, and to equality, to co-operation and to
+competition, to sociality and to individuality, to liberty and to
+discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms of practical life
+are expressed with equal freedom, and enforced and defended with equal
+talent and energy, there is no chance of both elements obtaining their
+due. Truth is usually reached only by the rough process of a struggle
+between combatants fighting under hostile banners.
+
+It may be objected, "But _some_ received principles, especially on
+the highest and most vital subjects, are more than half-truths."
+This objection is not sound. Even the Christian morality is, in many
+important points, incomplete and one-sided, and unless ideas and
+feelings not sanctioned by it had constituted to the formation of
+European life and character, human affairs would have been in a worse
+condition than they now are.
+
+
+_II.--Individuality as One of the Elements of Well-Being_
+
+We have seen that opinions should be freely formed and freely
+expressed. How about _actions_? If a man refrains from molesting others
+in what concerns him, and merely acts according to his own inclination
+and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which
+show that opinion should be free prove also that he should be allowed
+to carry his opinions into action. As it is useful that while mankind
+are imperfect there should be different opinions, so it is useful that
+there should be different experiments of living, that free scope should
+be given to varieties of character short of injury to others, and that
+the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically. It
+is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern
+others, individuality should assert itself. When, not the person's own
+character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule
+of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human
+happiness and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social
+progress.
+
+No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do
+absolutely nothing but copy one another. On the other hand, it would
+be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if experience had
+as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence or of
+conduct is preferable to another. No one denies that people should be
+so taught and trained in youth as to know and benefit by the results of
+human experience. But it is the privilege of a mature man to use and
+interpret experience in his own way. He who lets the world, or his own
+portion of it, choose his plan of life for him has no need of any other
+faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He, on the other hand, who
+chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties--reasoning,
+foresight, activity, discrimination, resolution, self-control. We wish
+not automatons, but living, originating men and women.
+
+So much will be readily conceded, but nevertheless it may be
+maintained that strong desires and passions are a peril and a snare.
+Yet it is desires and impulses which constitute character, and one
+with no desires and impulses of his own has no more character than
+a steam-engine. An energetic character implies strong, spontaneous
+impulses under the control of a strong will; and such characters
+are desirable, since the danger which threatens modern society is
+not excess but deficiency of personal impulses and preferences.
+Everyone nowadays asks: what is usually done by persons of my station
+and pecuniary circumstances, or (worse still) what is usually done
+by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? The
+consequence is that, through failure to follow their own nature, they
+have no nature to follow; their human capacities are withered and
+starved, and are incapable of any strong pleasures or opinions properly
+their own.
+
+It is not by pruning away the individual but by cultivating it wisely
+that human beings become valuable to themselves and to others, and that
+human life becomes rich, diversified, and interesting. Individuality is
+equivalent to development, and in proportion to the latitude given to
+individuality an age becomes noteworthy or the reverse.
+
+Unfortunately, the general tendency of things is to render mediocrity
+the ascendant power. At present, individuals are lost in the crowd,
+and it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the
+world. And public opinion is the opinion of collective mediocrity, and
+is expressed by mediocre men. The initiation of all wise and noble
+opinions must come from individuals, and the individuality of those who
+stand on the higher eminences of thought is necessary to correct the
+tendency that makes mankind acquiesce in customary and popular opinions.
+
+
+_III.--The Limits of the Authority of Society Over the Individual_
+
+Where, then, does the authority of society begin? How much of human
+life should be assigned to individuality, and how much to society?
+
+To individuality should belong that part of life in which it is chiefly
+the individual that is interested; to society, the part which chiefly
+interests society.
+
+Society, in return for the protection it affords its members, and as a
+condition of its existence, demands, firstly, that its members respect
+the rights of one another; and, secondly, that each person bear his
+share of the labours and sacrifices incurred in defending society for
+its members. Further, society may punish acts of an individual hurtful
+to others, even if not a violation of rights, by the force of public
+opinion.
+
+But in all cases where a person's conduct affects or need only affect
+himself, society may not interfere. Society may help individuals in
+their personal affairs, but neither one person, nor any number of
+persons, is warranted in saying to any human creature that he may not
+use his own life, so far as it concerns himself, as he pleases. He
+himself is the final judge of his own concerns, and the inconveniences
+which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others
+are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that
+portion of his conduct and character which affects his own good, but
+which does not affect the interests of others.
+
+But how, it may be asked, can any part of the conduct of a member of
+society be a matter of indifference to the other members?
+
+I fully confess that the mischief which a person does to himself may
+seriously affect those nearly connected with him, and even society
+at large. But such contingent and indirect injury should be endured
+by society for the sake of the greater good of human freedom, and
+because any attempt at coercion in private conduct will merely produce
+rebellion on the part of the individual coerced. Moreover, when
+society interferes with purely personal conduct, the odds are that it
+interferes wrongly, and in the wrong places, as the pages of history
+and the records of legislation abundantly demonstrate.
+
+Closely connected with the question of the limitations of the
+authority of society over the individual is the question of government
+participation in industrial and other enterprises generally undertaken
+by individuals.
+
+There are three main objections to the interference of the state in
+such matters. In the first place, the matter may be better managed
+by individuals than by the government. In the second place, though
+individuals may not do it so well as government might, yet it is
+desirable that they should do it, as a means of their own mental
+education. In the third place, it is undesirable to add to the power
+of the government. If roads, railways, banks, insurance offices, great
+joint-stock companies, universities, public charities, municipal
+corporations, and local boards were all in the government service,
+and if the employees in these look to the government for promotion,
+not all the freedom of the Press and the popular constitution of the
+legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than
+in name. And, for various reasons, the better qualified the heads and
+hands of the government officials, the more detrimental would the rule
+of the government be. Such a government would inevitably degenerate
+into a pedantocracy monopolising all the occupations which form and
+cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind.
+
+To find the best compromise between individuals and the state is
+difficult, but I believe the ideal must combine the greatest possible
+dissemination of power consistent with efficiency, and the greatest
+possible centralisation and diffusion of information.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN MILTON
+
+Areopagitica
+
+  It has been said of "Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton
+  for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament of
+  England," that it is "the piece that lies more surely than
+  any other at the very heart of our prose literature." In 1637
+  the Star Chamber issued a decree regulating the printing,
+  circulation, and importation of books, and on June 14, 1643, the
+  Long Parliament published an order in the same spirit. Milton
+  (see Vol. XVII) felt that what had been done in the days of
+  repression and tyranny was being continued under the reign of
+  liberty, and that the time for protest had arrived. Liberty was
+  the central principle of Milton's faith. He regarded it as the
+  most potent, beneficent, and sacred factor in human progress; and
+  he applied it all round--to literature, religion, marriage, and
+  civic life. His "Areopagitica," published in November, 1644, was
+  an application of the principle to literature that has remained
+  unanswered. The word "Areopagitica" is derived from Areopagus,
+  the celebrated open-air court in Athens, whose decision in
+  matters of public importance was regarded as final.
+
+
+_I.--The Right of Appeal_
+
+It is not a liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should
+arise in the Commonwealth--that let no man in this world expect; but
+when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily
+reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise
+men look for. To which we are already in good part arrived; and this
+will be attributed first to the strong assistance of God our Deliverer,
+next to your faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons
+of England.
+
+If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour of your civil and
+gentle greatness, Lords and Commons, as to gainsay what your published
+Order hath directly said, I might defend myself with ease out of those
+ages to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are not yet
+Goths and Jutlanders. Such honour was done in those days to men who
+professed the study of wisdom and eloquence that cities and signiories
+heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they had aught in public
+to admonish the state.
+
+When your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason
+from what quarter soever it be heard speaking, I know not what
+should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit instance wherein
+to show, both that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and
+that uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be partial to
+yourselves, by judging over again that Order which ye have ordained to
+regulate printing: that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth
+printed unless the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at
+least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed.
+
+I shall lay before ye, first, that the inventors of licensing books
+be those whom ye will be loth to own; next, what is to be thought in
+general of reading, whatever sort the books be; last, that it will
+be primely to the discouragement of all learning and the stop of
+truth. I deny not that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and
+commonwealth to have a vigilant eye how books demean themselves, as
+well as men. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a
+potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny
+they are.
+
+Nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction
+of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively and
+as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and, being
+sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the
+other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill
+a good book. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is
+the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up
+on purpose to life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life,
+whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not
+oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole
+nations fare the worse.
+
+We should be wary, therefore, how we spill that seasoned life of man,
+preserved and stored up in books, since we see a kind of homicide may
+be thus committed, that strikes at that ethereal essence, the breath of
+reason itself, and slays an immortality rather than a life.
+
+
+_II.--The History of Repression_
+
+In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than in any other part
+of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the magistrate
+cared to take notice of--those either blasphemous and atheistical, or
+libellous. The Romans, for many ages trained up only to a military
+roughness, knew of learning little. There libellous authors were
+quickly cast into prison, and the like severity was used if aught were
+impiously written. Except in these two points, how the world went in
+books the magistrate kept no reckoning.
+
+By the time the emperors were become Christians, the books of those
+whom they took to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and
+condemned in the general councils, and not till then were prohibited.
+
+As for the writings of heathen authors, unless they were plain
+invectives against Christianity, they met with no interdict that can
+be cited till about the year 400. The primitive councils and bishops
+were wont only to declare what books were not commendable, passing no
+further till after the year 800, after which time the popes of Rome
+extended their dominion over men's eyes, as they had before over their
+judgments, burning and prohibiting to be read what they fancied not,
+till Martin V. by his Bull not only prohibited, but was the first
+that excommunicated the reading of heretical books; for about that
+time Wickliffe and Huss, growing terrible, drove the papal court to a
+stricter policy of prohibiting. To fill up the measure of encroachment,
+their last invention was to ordain that no book, pamphlet, or paper
+should be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them the keys of the
+press also out of Paradise), unless it were approved and licensed under
+the hands of two or three glutton friars.
+
+Not from any ancient state or polity or church, nor by any statute
+left us by our ancestors, but from the most tyrannous Inquisition have
+ye this book-licensing. Till then books were as freely admitted into
+the world as any other birth. No envious Juno sat cross-legged over
+the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring. That ye like not now
+these most certain authors of this licensing Order, all men who know
+the integrity of your actions will clear ye readily.
+
+
+_III.--The Futility of Prohibition_
+
+But some will say, "What though the inventors were bad, the thing, for
+all that, may be good?" It may be so, yet I am of those who believe it
+will be a harder alchemy than Lullius ever knew to sublimate any good
+use out of such an invention.
+
+Good and evil in the field of this world grow up together almost
+inseparably. As the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to
+choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil?
+I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and
+unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks
+out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not
+without dust and heat. That which purifies us is trial, and trial is
+by what is contrary. And how can we more safely, and with less danger
+scout into the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner of
+tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And this is the benefit
+which may be had of books promiscuously read.
+
+'Tis next alleged we must not expose ourselves to temptations without
+necessity, and next to that, not employ our time in vain things. To
+both these objections one answer will serve--that to all men such books
+are not temptations, nor vanities, but useful drugs and materials
+wherewith to temper and compose effective and strong medicines. The
+rest, as children and childish men, who have not the art to qualify
+and prepare these working minerals, well may be exhorted to forbear,
+but hindered forcibly they cannot be by all the licensing that sainted
+Inquisition could ever yet contrive.
+
+This Order of licensing conduces nothing to the end for which it was
+framed. If we think to regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners,
+we must regulate all recreations and pastimes, all that is delightful
+to man. No music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is
+grave and Doric. There must be licensing dancers, that no gesture,
+motion, or deportment be taught our youth but what by their allowance
+shall be thought honest. Our garments, also, should be referred to
+the licensing of some more sober workmasters to see them cut into a
+less wanton garb. Who shall regulate all the mixed conversation of our
+youth? Who shall still appoint what shall be discoursed, what presumed,
+and no further? Lastly, who shall forbid and separate all idle resort,
+all evil company? If every action which is good or evil in man at ripe
+years were to be under pittance and prescription and compulsion, what
+were virtue but a name?
+
+When God gave Adam reason, he gave him reason to choose, for reason is
+but choosing. Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures
+round about us, but that these rightly tempered are the very
+ingredients of virtue?
+
+Why should we then affect a rigour contrary to the manner of God and
+of nature, by abridging or scanting those means which books freely
+permitted are both to the trial of virtue and the exercise of truth?
+
+
+_IV.--An Indignity to Learning_
+
+I lastly proceed from the no good it can do to the manifest hurt
+it causes in being, first, the greatest discouragement and affront
+that can be offered to learning and to learned men. If ye be loth to
+dishearten utterly and discontent the free and ingenuous sort of such
+as were born to study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre or
+any other end but the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that
+lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which God and good men have
+consented shall be the reward of those whose published labours advance
+the good of mankind, then know that so far to distrust the judgment and
+the honesty of one who hath but a common repute in learning, and never
+yet offended, as not to count him fit to print his mind without a tutor
+and examiner, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and
+knowing spirit that can be put upon him.
+
+When a man writes to the world he summons up all his reason and
+deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and
+likely consults and confers with his judicious friends. If in this,
+the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no
+industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state
+of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he
+carry all his considerate diligence to the hasty view of an unleisured
+licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps far his inferior in
+judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labour of book-writing, and if
+he be not repulsed or slighted, must appear in print with his censor's
+hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and surety that he is no
+idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the
+author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning.
+
+And, further, to me it seems an undervaluing and vilifying of the whole
+nation. I cannot set so light by all the invention, the art, the wit,
+the grave and solid judgment which is in England, as that it can be
+comprehended in any twenty capacities how good soever, much less that
+it should not pass except their superintendence be over it, except
+it be sifted and strained with their strainers, that it should be
+uncurrent without their manual stamp. Truth and understanding are not
+such wares as to be monopolised and traded in by tickets and statutes
+and standards.
+
+Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation it is whereof ye
+are, and whereof ye are the governors--a nation not slow and dull, but
+of a quick, ingenious and piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and
+sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest
+that human capacity can soar to. Is it for nothing that the grave and
+frugal Transylvanian sends out yearly from as far as the mountainous
+borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their
+youth, but their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic
+arts? By all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy
+and devout men, God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in
+His Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself. What does He,
+then, but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner is, first
+to His Englishmen?
+
+Behold now this vast city--a city of refuge, the mansion house of
+liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection. The shop of
+war hath not there more anvils and hammers waking to fashion out the
+plates and instruments of armed justice in defence of beleaguered
+truth than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious
+lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith
+to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching
+Reformation; others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting
+to the force of reason and convincement. What could a man require
+more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge?
+Where there is much desire to learn, there, of necessity, will be
+much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men
+is but knowledge in the making. A little generous prudence, a little
+forbearance of one another, and some grain of charity might win all
+these diligencies to join and unite in one general search after
+truth, could we but forego this prelatical tradition of crowding free
+consciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men.
+
+Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself
+like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks.
+Methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling
+her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam; purging and unsealing her
+long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while
+the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that
+love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in
+their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.
+
+What should ye do then? Should ye suppress all this flowery crop
+of knowledge and new light? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty
+engrossers over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we
+shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe
+it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing do
+as good as bid ye suppress yourselves. If it be desired to know the
+immediate cause of all this free writing and free speaking, there
+cannot be assigned a truer than your own mild, and free, and humane
+government. It is the liberty, Lords and Commons, which our own
+valorous and happy counsels have purchased us, liberty, which is the
+nurse of all great wits. Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to
+argue freely according to conscience above all liberties. And though
+all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so
+Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting,
+to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple. Whoever knew
+Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter? For who knows not
+that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor
+stratagems, nor licensing to make her victorious. Those are the shifts
+and defences that error uses against her power. Give her but room, and
+do not bind her when she sleeps.
+
+
+
+
+PLUTARCH
+
+Parallel Lives
+
+  Little is known of the life of Plutarch, greatest of biographers.
+  He was born about 50 A.D., at Ch�ronea, in Boeotia, Greece, the
+  son of a learned and virtuous father. He studied philosophy
+  under Ammonius at Delphi, and on his return to his native city
+  became a priest of Apollo, and archon, or chief magistrate.
+  Plutarch wrote many philosophical works, which are enumerated by
+  his son Lamprias, but are no longer extant. We have about fifty
+  biographies, which are called "parallel" because of the method
+  by which Plutarch, after giving separately the lives of two or
+  more people, proceeds to compare them with one another. The
+  "Lives" were translated into French in Henry II.'s reign, and
+  into English in the time of Elizabeth. They have been exceedingly
+  popular at every period, and many authors, including Shakespeare,
+  have owed much to them. Plutarch died about 120 A.D.
+
+
+_I.--Lycurgus and Numa_
+
+According to the best authors, Lycurgus, the law-giver, reigned only
+for eight months as king of Sparta, until the widow of the late king,
+his brother, had given birth to a son, whom he named Charilaus. He
+then travelled for some years in Crete, Asia, and possibly also in
+Egypt, Libya, Spain, and India, studying governments and manners; and
+returning to Sparta, he set himself to alter the whole constitution of
+that kingdom, with the encouragement of the oracles and the favour of
+Charilaus.
+
+The first institution was a senate of twenty-eight members, whose place
+it was to strengthen the throne when the people encroached too far, and
+to support the people when the king should attempt to become absolute.
+Occasional popular assemblies, in the open air, were to be called, not
+to propose any subject of debate, but only to ratify or reject the
+proposals of the senate and the two kings.
+
+His second political enterprise was a new division of the lands, for
+he found a prodigious inequality, wealth being centred in the hands of
+a few; and by this reform Laconia became like an estate newly divided
+among many brothers. Each plot of land was sufficient to maintain a
+family in health, and they wanted nothing more.
+
+Then, desiring also to equalise property in movable objects, he
+resorted to the device of doing away with gold and silver currency, and
+establishing an iron coinage, of which great bulk and weight went to
+but little value. He excluded all unprofitable and superfluous arts;
+and the Spartans soon had no means of purchasing foreign wares, nor did
+any merchant ship unlade in their harbours. Luxury died away of itself,
+and the workmanship of their necessary and useful furniture rose to
+great excellence.
+
+Public tables were now established, where all must eat in common of
+the same frugal meal; whereby hardiness and health of body and mutual
+benevolence of mind were alike promoted. There were about fifteen to
+a table, to which each contributed in provisions or in money; the
+conversation was liberal and well-informed, and salted with pleasant
+raillery.
+
+Lycurgus left no law in writing; he depended on principles pervading
+the customs of the people; and he reduced the whole business of
+legislation into the bringing up of the young. And in this matter
+he began truly at the beginning, by regulating marriages. The man
+unmarried after the prescribed age was prosecuted and disgraced; and
+the father of four children was immune from taxation.
+
+Lycurgus considered the children as the property of the state rather
+than of the parents, and derided the vanity of other nations, who
+studied to have horses of the finest breed, yet had their children
+begotten by ordinary persons rather than by the best and healthiest
+men. At birth, the children were carried to be examined by the oldest
+men in council, who had the weaklings thrown away into a cavern, and
+gave orders for the education of the sturdy.
+
+As for learning, they had just what was necessary and no more, their
+education being directed chiefly to making them obedient, laborious,
+and warlike. They went barefoot, and for the most part naked. They were
+trained to steal with astuteness, to suffer pain and hunger, and to
+express themselves without an unnecessary word. Dignified poetry and
+music were encouraged. To the end of his life, the Spartan was kept
+ever in mind that he was born, not for himself, but for his country;
+the city was like one great camp, where each had his stated allowance
+and his stated public charge.
+
+Let us turn now to Numa Pompilius, the great law-giver of the
+Romans. A Sabine of illustrious virtue and great simplicity of life,
+he was elected to be king after the interregnum which followed on
+the disappearance of Romulus. He had spent much time in solitary
+wanderings in the sacred groves and other retired places; and there,
+it is reported, the goddess Egeria communicated to him a happiness and
+knowledge more than mortal.
+
+Numa was in his fortieth year, and was not easily persuaded to
+undertake the Roman kingdom. But his disinclination was overcome, and
+he was received with loud acclamations as the most pious of men and
+most beloved of the gods. His first act was to discharge the body-guard
+provided for him, and to appoint a priest for the cult of Romulus. But
+his great task was to soften the Romans, as iron is softened by fire,
+and to bring them from a violent and warlike disposition to a juster
+and more gentle temper. For Rome was composed at first of most hardy
+and resolute men, inveterate warriors.
+
+To reduce this people to mildness and peace, he called in the
+assistance of religion. By sacrifices, solemn dances, and processions,
+wherein he himself officiated, he mixed the charms of festal pleasure
+with holy ritual.
+
+He founded the hierarchy of priests, the vestal virgins, and several
+other sacred orders; and passed most of his time in performing some
+religious function or in conversing with the priests on some divine
+subject. And by all this discipline the people became so tractable,
+and were so impressed with Numa's power, that they would believe the
+most fabulous tales, and thought nothing impossible which he undertook.
+Numa further introduced agriculture, and fostered it as an incentive to
+peace; he distributed the citizens of Rome into guilds, or companies,
+according to their several arts and trades; he reformed the calendar,
+and did many other services to his people.
+
+Comparing, now, Lycurgus and Numa, we find that their resemblances are
+obvious--their wisdom, piety, talent for government, and their deriving
+their laws from a divine source. Of their distinctions, the chief is
+that Numa accepted, but Lycurgus relinquished, a crown; and as it was
+an honour to the former to attain royal dignity by his justice, so it
+was an honour to the latter to prefer justice to that dignity. Again,
+Lycurgus tuned up the strings of Sparta, which he found relaxed with
+luxury, to a keener pitch; Numa, on the contrary, softened the high and
+harsh tone of Rome. Both were equally studious to lead their people
+to sobriety, but Lycurgus was more attached to fortitude and Numa to
+justice.
+
+Though Numa put an end to the gain of rapine, he made no provision
+against the accumulation of great fortunes, nor against poverty, which
+then began to spread within the city. He ought rather to have watched
+against these dangers, for they gave birth to the many troubles that
+befell the Roman state.
+
+
+_II.--Aristides and Cato_
+
+Aristides had a close friendship with Clisthenes, who established
+popular government in Athens after the expulsion of the tyrants; yet
+he had at the same time a great veneration for Lycurgus of Sparta,
+whom he regarded as supreme among law-givers; and this led him to
+be a supporter of aristocracy, in which he was always opposed by
+Themistocles, the democrat. The latter was insinuating, daring, artful,
+and impetuous, but Aristides was solid and steady, inflexibly just, and
+incapable of flattery or deceit.
+
+Neither elated by honour nor disheartened by ill success, Aristides
+became deeply founded in the estimation of the best citizens. He
+was appointed public treasurer, and showed up the peculations of
+Themistocles and of others who had preceded him. When the fleet of
+Darius was at Marathon, with a view to subjugating Greece, Miltiades
+and Aristides were the Greek generals, who by custom were to command
+by turns, day about; and Aristides freely gave up his command to the
+other, to promote unity of discipline, and to give example of military
+obedience. The next year he became archon. Though a poor man and a
+commoner, Aristides won the royal and divine title of "the Just." At
+first loved and respected for his surname "the Just," Aristides came to
+be envied and dreaded for so extraordinary an honour, and the citizens
+assembled from all the towns in Attica and banished him by ostracism,
+cloaking their envy of his character under the pretence of guarding
+against tyranny. Three years later they reversed this decree, fearing
+lest Aristides should join the cause of Xerxes. They little knew the
+man; even before his recall he had been inciting the Greeks to defend
+their liberty.
+
+In the great battle of Plat�a, Aristides was in command of the
+Athenians; Pausanias, commander-in-chief of all the confederates,
+joined him there with the Spartans. The opposing Persian army covered
+an immense area. In the engagements which took place the Greeks behaved
+with the utmost firmness, and at last stormed the Persian camp, with
+a prodigious slaughter of the enemy. When, later, Aristides was
+entrusted with the task of assessing the cities of the allies for a
+tax towards the war, and was thus clothed with an authority which made
+him master of Greece, though he set out poor he returned yet poorer,
+having arranged the burden with equal justice and humanity. In fact, he
+esteemed his poverty no less a glory than all the laurels he had won.
+
+The Roman counterpart of Aristides was Cato; which name he received
+for his wisdom, for Romans call wise men Catos. Marcus Cato, the
+censor, came of an obscure family, yet his father and grandfather were
+excellent soldiers. He lived on an estate which his father left him
+near the Sabine country. With red hair and grey eyes, his appearance
+was such, says an epigram, as to scare the spirits of the departed.
+Inured to labour and temperance, he had the sound constitution of one
+brought up in camps; and he had practised eloquence as a necessary
+instrument for one who would mix with affairs. While still a lad he had
+fought in so many battles that his breast was covered with scars; and
+all who spoke with him noted a gravity of behaviour and a dignity of
+sentiment such as to fit him for high responsibilities.
+
+A powerful nobleman, Valerius Flaccus, whose estate was near Cato's
+home, heard his servants praise their neighbour's laborious life.
+He sent for Cato, and, charmed with his sweet temper and ready wit,
+persuaded him to go to Rome and apply himself to political affairs. His
+rise was rapid; he became tribune of the soldiers, then qu�stor, and at
+last was the colleague of Valerius both as consul and as censor.
+
+Cato's eloquence brought him the epithet of the Roman Demosthenes, but
+he was even more celebrated for his manner of living. Few were willing
+to imitate him in the ancient custom of tilling the ground with his own
+hands, in eating a dinner prepared without fire, and a spare, frugal
+supper; few thought it more honourable not to want superfluities than
+to possess them. By reason of its vast dominions, the commonwealth had
+lost its pristine purity and integrity; the citizens were frightened
+at labour and enervated by pleasure. But Cato never wore a costly
+garment nor partook of an elaborate meal; even when consul he drank
+the same wine as his servants. He thought nothing cheap that is
+superfluous. Some called him mean and narrow, others thought that he
+was setting an object-lesson to the growing luxury of the age. For my
+part, I think that his custom of using his servants like beasts of
+burden, and of turning them off or selling them when grown old, was the
+mark of an ungenerous spirit, which thinks that the sole tie between
+man and man is interest or necessity. For my own part, I would not sell
+even an old ox that had laboured for me.
+
+However that may be, his temperance was wonderful. When governor of
+Sardinia, where his predecessors had put the province to great expense,
+he did not even use a carriage, but walked from town to town with
+one attendant. He was inexorable in everything that concerned public
+justice. He proved himself a brave general in the field; and when
+he became censor, which was the highest dignity of the republic, he
+waged an uncompromising campaign against luxury, by means of an almost
+prohibitive tax on the expenditure of ostentatious superfluity. His
+style in speaking was at once humorous, familiar, and forcible, and
+many of his wise and pregnant sayings are remembered.
+
+When we compare Aristides and Cato, we are at once struck by many
+resemblances; and examining the several parts of their lives
+distinctly, as we examine a poem or a picture, we find that they both
+rose to great honour without the help of family connections, and merely
+by their own virtue and abilities. Both of them were equally victorious
+in war; but in politics Aristides was less successful, being banished
+by the faction of Themistocles; while Cato, though his antagonists
+were the most powerful men in Rome, kept his footing to the end like a
+skilled wrestler.
+
+Again, Cato was no less attentive to the management of his domestic
+affairs than he was to affairs of state, and not only increased his own
+fortune, but became a guide to others in finance and in agriculture.
+But Aristides, by his indigence, brought disgrace upon justice itself,
+as if it were the ruin and impoverishment of families; it is even said
+that he left not enough for the portions of his daughters nor for the
+expenses of his own funeral. So Cato's family produced pr�tors and
+consuls to the fourth generation; but of the descendants of Aristides
+some were conjurors and paupers, and not one of them had a sentiment
+worthy of his illustrious ancestor.
+
+
+_III.--Demosthenes and Cicero_
+
+That these two great orators were originally formed by nature in the
+same mould is shown by the similarity of their dispositions. They had
+the same ambition, the same love of liberty, and the same timidity
+in war and danger. Their fortunes also were similar; both raised
+themselves from obscure beginnings to authority and power; both opposed
+kings and tyrants; both of them were banished, then returned with
+honour, were forced to fly again, and were taken by their enemies; and
+with both of them expired the liberties of their countries.
+
+Demosthenes, while a weakly child of seven years, lost his father, and
+his fortune was dissipated by unworthy guardians. But his ambition
+was fired in early years by hearing the pleadings of the orator
+Callistratus, and by noting the honours which attended success in that
+profession. He at once applied himself to the practice of declamation,
+and studied rhetoric under Is�us; and as soon as he came of age he
+appeared at the Bar in the prosecution of his guardians for their
+embezzlements. Though successful in this claim, Demosthenes had much to
+learn, and his earlier speeches provoked the amusement of his audience.
+His manner was at once violent and confused, his voice weak and
+stammering, and his delivery breathless; but these faults were overcome
+by an arduous and protracted course of exercise in the subterraneous
+study which he had built, where he would remain for two or three months
+together. He corrected the stammering by speaking with pebbles in his
+mouth; strengthened his voice by running uphill and declaiming while
+still unbreathed; and his attitude and gestures were studied before a
+mirror.
+
+Demosthenes was rarely heard to speak extempore, and though the people
+called upon him in the assembly, he would sit silent unless he had come
+prepared. He wrote a great part, if not the whole, of each oration
+beforehand, so that it was objected that his arguments "smelled of the
+lamp"; yet, on exceptional occasions, he would speak unprepared, and
+then as if from a supernatural impulse.
+
+His nature was vindictive and his resentment implacable. He was never
+a time-server in word or in action, and he maintained to the end the
+political standpoint with which he had begun. The glorious object of
+his ambition was the defence of the cause of Greece against Philip;
+and most of his orations, including these Philippics, are written
+upon the principle that the right and worthy course is to be chosen
+for its own sake. He does not exhort his countrymen to that which is
+most agreeable, or easy, or advantageous, but to that which is most
+honourable. If, besides this noble ambition of his and the lofty tone
+of his orations, he had been gifted also with warlike courage and had
+kept his hands clean from bribes, Demosthenes would have deserved to be
+numbered with Cimon, Thucydides, and Pericles.
+
+Cicero's wonderful genius came to light even in his school-days; he
+had the capacity and inclination to learn all the arts, but was most
+inclined to poetry, and the time came when he was reputed the best
+poet as well as the greatest orator in Rome. After a training in law
+and some experience of the wars, he retired to a life of philosophic
+study, but being persuaded to appear in the courts for Roscius, who was
+unjustly charged with the murder of his father, Cicero immediately made
+his reputation as an orator.
+
+His health was weak; he could eat but little, and that only late in
+the day; his voice was harsh, loud, and ill regulated; but, like
+Demosthenes, he was able by assiduous practice to modulate his
+enunciation to a full, sonorous, and sweet tone, and his studies under
+the leading rhetoricians of Greece and Asia perfected his eloquence.
+
+His diligence, justice, and moderation were evidenced by his conduct
+in public offices, as qu�stor, pr�tor, and then as consul. In his
+attack on Catiline's conspiracy, he showed the Romans what charms
+eloquence can add to truth, and that justice is invincible when
+properly supported. But his immoderate love of praise interrupted his
+best designs, and he made himself obnoxious to many by continually
+magnifying himself.
+
+Demosthenes, by concentrating all his powers on the single art of
+speaking, became unrivalled in the power, grandeur, and accuracy of
+his eloquence. Cicero's studies had a wider range; he strove to excel
+not only as an orator, but as a philosopher and a scholar also. Their
+difference of temperament is reflected in their styles. Demosthenes is
+always grave and serious, an austere man of thought; Cicero, on the
+other hand, loves his jest, and is sometimes playful to the point of
+buffoonery. The Greek orator never touches upon his own praise except
+with some great point in view, and then does it modestly and without
+offence; the Roman does not seek to hide his intemperate vanity.
+
+Both of these men had high political abilities; but while the former
+held no public office, and lies under the suspicion of having at times
+sold his talent to the highest bidder, the latter ruled provinces as a
+pro-consul at a time when avarice reigned unbridled, and became known
+only for his humanity and his contempt of money.
+
+
+
+
+MADAME DE STA�L
+
+On Germany
+
+  Madame de Sta�l's book "On Germany" (De l'Allemagne) was finished
+  in 1810. The manuscript was passed by the censor, and partly
+  printed, when the whole impression was seized by the order of the
+  Emperor and destroyed. Madame de Sta�l herself escaped secretly,
+  and came eventually to London, where, in 1813, the work was
+  published. She did not long survive the fall of her tremendous
+  enemy, Napoleon, but died in her beloved Paris on July 14, 1817.
+  When it is considered that "On Germany" was written by other
+  than an inhabitant of the country, and that Madame de Sta�l did
+  not travel far beyond her own residences at Mainz, Frankfort,
+  Berlin, and Vienna, the work may be reckoned the most remarkable
+  performance of its kind in literature or biography (Mme. de
+  Sta�l, biography: see Vol. VIII, p. 89).
+
+
+_I.--Germany, Its People and Customs_
+
+The multitude and extent of the forests indicate a still new
+civilisation. Germany still shows traces of uninhabited nature. It is
+a sad country, and time is needed to discover what there is to love in
+it. The ruined castles on the hills, the narrow windows of the houses,
+the long stretches of snow in winter, the silence of nature and men,
+all contribute towards the sadness. Yet the country and its inhabitants
+are interesting and poetical. You feel that human souls and imagination
+have embellished this land.
+
+The only remarkable monuments in Germany are the Gothic ones which
+recall the age of chivalry. Modern German architecture is not worth
+mentioning, but the towns are well built, and the people try to make
+their houses look as cheerful and pleasing as possible. The gardens
+in some parts of Germany are almost as beautiful as in England, which
+denotes love of nature. Often, in the midst of the superb gardens of
+the German princes, �olian harps are placed; the breezes waft sound
+and scent at once. Thus northern imagination tries to construct Italian
+nature.
+
+The Germans are generally sincere and faithful; they scarcely ever
+break their word and are strangers to deception. Power of work and
+thought is another of their national traits. They are naturally
+literary and philosophical, but their pride of class affects in some
+ways their _esprit_ adversely. The nobles are lacking in ideas, and
+the men of letters know too little about business. The Germans have
+imagination rather than _esprit_.
+
+The town dwellers and the country folk, the soldiers and the
+workmen, nearly all have some knowledge of music. I have been to
+some poor houses, blackened with tobacco smoke, and not only the
+mistress, but also the master of the house, improvise on the piano,
+just as the Italians improvise in verse. Instrumental music is as
+generally fostered in Germany as vocal music is in Italy. Italy has
+the advantage, because instrumental music requires work, whilst the
+southern sky suffices to produce beautiful voices.
+
+Peasant women and servants, who are too poor to put on finery, decorate
+their hair with a few flowers, so that imagination may at least enter
+into their attire.
+
+One is constantly struck in Germany with the contrast between sentiment
+and custom, between talent and taste; civilisation and nature do not
+seem to have properly amalgamated yet. Enthusiasm for art and poetry
+goes with very vulgar habits in social life. Nothing could be more
+bizarre than the combination of the warlike aspect of Germany, where
+soldiers are met at every step, with the indoor life led by the people.
+There is a dread of fatigue and change of air, as if the nation were
+composed only of shopkeepers and men of letters; and yet all the
+institutions tend towards giving the nation military habits.
+
+Stoves, beer, and tobacco-smoke crate around the German people a kind
+of heavy and hot atmosphere which they do not like to leave. This
+atmosphere is injurious to activity, which is at least as necessary
+in war as in courage; resolutions are slow, discouragement is easy,
+because a generally sad existence does not engender much confidence in
+fortune.
+
+Three motive powers lead men to fight: love of the fatherland and
+of liberty, love of glory, and religious fanaticism. There is not
+much love of the fatherland in an Empire that has been divided for
+centuries, where Germans fought against Germans; love of glory is not
+very lively where there is no centre, no capital, no society. The
+Germans are much more apt to get roused by abstract ideas than by the
+interests of life.
+
+The love of liberty is not developed with the Germans; they have learnt
+neither by enjoyment, nor by privation, the prize that may be attached
+to it. The very independence enjoyed by Germany in all respects made
+the Germans indifferent to liberty; independence is a possession,
+liberty a guarantee, and just because nobody was crossed in Germany
+either in his rights or in his pleasures, nobody felt the need for an
+order of things that would maintain this happiness.
+
+The Germans, with few exceptions, are scarcely capable of succeeding
+in anything that requires cleverness and skill; everything troubles
+them, makes them nervous, and they need method in action as well as
+independence in thought.
+
+German women have a charm of their own, a touching quality of voice,
+fair hair, and brilliant complexion; they are modest, but not as shy
+as the English. One can see that they have often met men who were
+superior to them, and that they have less cause to fear the severity of
+public judgment. They try to please by their sensibility, and to arouse
+interest by the imagination. The language of poetry and of the fine
+arts is known to them; they flirt with enthusiasm, just as one flirts
+in France with _esprit_ and wit.
+
+Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetic religion, which willingly
+tolerates all that may be excused by sensibility. The facility of
+divorce in the Protestant provinces certainly affects the sanctity of
+marriage. Husbands are changed as peacefully as if it were merely a
+question of arranging the incidents of a play. The good-nature of men
+and women prevents any bitterness entering these easy ruptures.
+
+Some German women are ever in a state of exaltation that amounts to
+affectation, and the sweet expressions of which efface whatever there
+may be piquant or pronounced in their mind and character. They are not
+frank, and yet not false either; but they see and judge nothing with
+truth, and the real events pass before their eyes like phantasmagoria.
+
+But these women are the exception. Many German women have true
+sentiment and simple manners. Their careful education and natural
+purity of soul renders their dominion gentle and moderate; every day
+they inspire you with increased interest for all that is great and
+noble, with increased confidence in every kind of hope. What is rare
+among German women is real _esprit_ and quick repartee. Conversation,
+as a talent, exists only in France; in other countries it only serves
+for polite intercourse, for discussion and for friendship; in France it
+is an art.
+
+
+_II.--On Southern Germany and Austria_
+
+Franconia, Suabia, and Bavaria were, before the foundation of the
+Munich Academy, strangely heavy and monotonous countries; no arts
+except music, little literature; an accent that did not lend itself
+well to the pronunciation of the Latin languages, no society; great
+parties that resembled ceremonies rather than amusement; obsequious
+politeness towards an unelegant aristocracy; kindness and loyalty in
+all classes, but a certain smiling stiffness which is neither ease nor
+dignity. In a country where society counts for nothing, and nature for
+little, only the literary towns can be really interesting.
+
+A temperate climate is not favourable for poetry. Where the climate
+is neither severe nor beautiful, one lives without fearing or hoping
+anything from heaven, and one only takes interest in the positive facts
+of existence. Southern Germany, temperate in every respect, keeps up a
+state of monotonous well-being which is as bad for business activity as
+it is for the activity of the mind. The keenest wish of the inhabitants
+of that peaceful and fertile country is to continue the same existence.
+And what can one do with that one desire? It is not even enough to
+preserve that with which one is contented.
+
+There are many excellent things in Austria, but few really superior
+men, because in that country it is not much use to excel one's
+neighbour; one is not envied for it, but forgotten, which is still more
+discouraging. Ambition turns in the direction of obtaining good posts.
+
+Austria, embracing so many different peoples, Bohemians, Hungarians,
+etc., has not the unity necessary for a monarchy. Yet the great
+moderation of the heads of the state has for a long time constituted a
+strong link.
+
+Industry, good living and domestic pleasures are Austria's principal
+interests. In spite of the glory she gained by the perseverance and
+valour of her troops, the military spirit has really never got hold of
+all classes of the nation.
+
+In a country where every movement is difficult, and where everything
+inspires tranquility, the slightest obstacle is an excuse for complete
+idleness of action and thought. One might say that this is real
+happiness; but does happiness consist of the faculties which one
+develops, or of those which one chokes?
+
+Vienna is situated in a plain amid picturesque hills. It is an old
+town, very small, but surrounded by very spacious suburbs. It is said
+that the city proper within the fortifications is no larger than it
+was when Richard Coeur-de-Lion was put into prison not far from its
+gates. The streets are as narrow as in Italy; the palaces recall a
+little those of Florence; in fine, nothing here resembles the rest of
+Germany except a few Gothic buildings, which bring back the Middle Ages
+to the imagination. First among these is the tower of St. Stephen's,
+around which somehow centres the whole history of Austria. No building
+can be as patriotic as a church--the only one in which all classes of
+the population meet, the only one which recalls not only the public
+events, but also the secret thoughts, the intimate affections which the
+rulers and the citizens have brought within its precincts.
+
+Every great city has some building, or promenade, some work of art
+or nature, to which the recollections of childhood are attached. It
+seems to me that the _Prater_ should have this charm for the Viennese.
+No other city can match this splendid promenade through woods and
+deer-stocked meadows. The daily promenade at a fixed hour is an Italian
+custom. Such regularity would be impossible in a country where the
+pleasures are as varied as in Paris; but the Viennese could never do
+without it. Society folk in their carriages and the people on their
+feet assemble here every evening. It is in the Prater that one is most
+struck with the easy life and the prosperity of the Viennese. Vienna
+has the uncontested reputation of consuming more food than any other
+equally populous city. You can see whole families of citizens and
+artisans starting for the Prater at five o'clock for a rustic meal as
+substantial as dinner in any other country, and the money they are able
+to spend on it proves their industry and kindly rule.
+
+At night thousands of people return, without disorder, without
+quarrel. You can scarcely hear a voice, so silently do they take their
+pleasures. It is not due to sadness, but to laziness and physical
+well-being. Society is here with magnificent horses and carriages.
+Their whole amusement is to recognise in a Prater avenue the friends
+they have just left in a drawing-room. The emperor and his brothers
+take their place in the long row of carriages, and prefer to be
+considered just as ordinary private people. They only use their rights
+when they are performing their duties. You never see a beggar: the
+charity institutions are admirably managed. And there are very few
+mortal crimes in Austria. Everything in this country bears the impress
+of a paternal, wise, and religious government.
+
+
+_III.--On the German Language_
+
+Germany is better suited for prose than for poetry, and the prose is
+better written than spoken; it is an excellent instrument if you wish
+to describe or to say everything; but you cannot playfully pass from
+subject to subject as you can in French. If you would adapt the German
+words to the French style of conversation you would rob them altogether
+of grace and dignity. The merit of the Germans is to fill their time
+well; the talent of the French is to make us forget time.
+
+Although the sense of German sentences is frequently only revealed at
+the very end, the construction does not always permit to close a phrase
+with the most piquant expression, which is one of the great means to
+make conversation effective. You rarely hear among the Germans what
+is known as a _bon-mot_; you have to admire the thought and not the
+brilliant way in which it is expressed.
+
+Brilliant expression is considered a kind of charlatanism by
+the Germans, who take to abstract expression because it is more
+conscientious and approaches more closely to the very essence of
+truth. But conversation ought not to cause any trouble either to the
+listener or to the speaker. As soon as conversation in Germany departs
+from the ordinary interests of life it becomes too metaphysical;
+there is nothing between the common and the sublime; and it is just
+this intermediate region that is the proper sphere for the art of
+conversation.
+
+
+WEIMAR
+
+Of all the German principalities, Weimar makes one best realise the
+advantages of a small country, if the ruler is a man of fine intellect
+who may try to please his subjects without losing their obedience. The
+Duchess Louise of Saxe-Weimar is the true model of a woman destined
+for high rank. The duke's military talents are highly esteemed; his
+conversation is pointed and well considered; his intellect and his
+mother's have attracted the most distinguished men of letters to
+Weimar. Germany had for the first time a literary capital.
+
+Herder had just died when I arrived at Weimar, but Wieland, Goethe,
+and Schiller were still there. They can be judged from their works,
+for their books bear a striking resemblance to their character and
+conversation.
+
+Life in small towns has never appealed to me. Man's intellect seems to
+become narrow and woman's heart cold. One feels oppressed by the close
+proximity of one's equals. All the actions of your life are minutely
+examined in detail, until the ensemble of your character is no longer
+understood. And the more your spirit is independent and elevated, the
+less you can breathe within the narrow confines. This disagreeable
+discomfort did not exist at Weimar, which was not a little town, but a
+large castle. A chosen circle took a lively interest in every new art
+production. Imagination, constantly stimulated by the conversation of
+the poets, felt less need for those outside distractions which lighten
+the burden of existence but often dissipates its forces. Weimar has
+been called the Athens of Germany, and rightly so. It was the only
+place where interest in the fine arts was, so to speak, rational and
+served as fraternal link between the different ranks.
+
+
+_IV.--Prussia_
+
+To know Prussia, one has to study the character of Frederick II. A man
+has created this empire which had not been favoured by nature, and
+which has only become a power because a soldier has been its master.
+There are two distinct men in Frederick II.: a German by nature, and a
+Frenchman by education. All that the German did in a German kingdom has
+left lasting traces; all that the Frenchman tried has been fruitless.
+
+Frederick's great misfortune was that he had not enough respect
+for religion and customs. His tastes were cynical. Frederick, in
+liberating his subjects of what he called prejudices, stifled in
+them their patriotism, for in order to get attached to a naturally
+sombre and sterile country one must be ruled by very stern opinions
+and principles. Frederick's predilection for war may be excused on
+political grounds. His realm, as he took it over from his father, could
+not exist, and aggrandisement was necessary for its preservation. He
+had two and a half million subjects when he ascended the throne, and he
+left six millions on his death.
+
+One of his greatest wrongs was his share in the division of Poland.
+Silesia was acquired by force of arms. Poland by Macchiavellian
+conquest, "and one could never hope that subjects thus robbed should be
+faithful to the juggler who called himself their sovereign."
+
+Frederick II. wanted French literature to rule alone in his country,
+and had no consideration for German literature, which, no doubt, was
+then not as remarkable as it is to-day; but a German prince should
+encourage all that is German. Frederick wanted to make Berlin resemble
+Paris, and he flattered himself to have found among the French
+refugees some writers of sufficient distinction to have a French
+literature. Such hope was bound to be deceptive. Artificial culture
+never prospers; a few individuals may fight against the natural
+difficulties, but the masses will always follow their natural leaning.
+Frederick did a real wrong to his country when he professed to despise
+German genius.
+
+
+BERLIN
+
+Berlin is a large town, with wide, long, straight streets, beautiful
+houses, and an orderly aspect; but as it has only recently been
+rebuilt, it contains nothing to recall the past. No Gothic monument
+exists among the modern dwellings, and this newly-formed country is in
+no way interfered with by the past. But modern Berlin, with all its
+beauty, does not impress me seriously. It tells nothing of the history
+of the country or the character of its inhabitants; and these beautiful
+new houses seem to be destined only for the comfortable gatherings of
+business or industry. The most beautiful palaces of Berlin are built of
+brick. Prussia's capital resembles Prussia herself; its buildings and
+institutions have the age of one generation, and no more, because one
+man alone is their creator.
+
+
+
+
+THE "GERMANIA" OF TACITUS
+
+Customs and Peoples of Germany
+
+  "Germania," the full title of which is "Concerning the Geography,
+  the Manners and Customs, and the Peoples of Germany," consists
+  of forty-six sections, the first twenty-seven describing the
+  characteristics of the peoples, their customs, beliefs, and
+  institutions; the remaining nineteen dealing with the individual
+  peculiarities of each separate tribe. As a record of the Teutonic
+  tribes, written purely from an ethical and rhetorical standpoint,
+  the work is of the utmost importance, and, on the whole, is
+  regarded as trustworthy. Its weak point is its geography, details
+  of which Tacitus (see Vol. XI, p. 156) no doubt gathered from
+  hearsay. The main object of the work was not so much to compose
+  a history of Germany, as to draw a comparison between the
+  independence of the Northern peoples and the corrupt civilisation
+  of contemporary Roman life. Possibly, also, Tacitus intended to
+  sound a note of alarm.
+
+
+_I.--Germany and the German Tribes_
+
+The whole of Germany is thus bounded. It is separated from Gaul,
+Rh�tia, and Pannonia by the rivers Rhine and Danube; from Sarmatia and
+Dacia by mutual fear, or by high mountains; the rest is encompassed by
+the ocean, which forms vast bays and contains many large islands. The
+Rhine, rising from a rocky summit in the Rh�tian Alps, winds westward,
+and is lost in the northern ocean. The Danube, issuing from Mount
+Abnoba, traverses several countries and finally falls into the Euxine.
+
+I believe that the population is indigenous to Germany, and that the
+nation is free from foreign admixture. They affirm Germany to be a
+recent word, lately bestowed on those who first passed the Rhine and
+repulsed the Gauls. From one tribe the whole nation has thus been
+named. They cherish a tradition that Hercules had been in their
+country, and him they extol in their battle songs. Some are of opinion
+that Ulysses also, during his long wanderings, was carried into this
+ocean and entered Germany, and that he founded the city Asciburgium,
+which stands at this day upon the bank of the Rhine. Such traditions I
+purpose myself neither to confirm nor to refute; but I agree with those
+who maintain that the Germans have never intermingled by marriages with
+other nations, but have remained a pure, independent people, resembling
+none but themselves.
+
+With whatever differences in various districts, their territory mainly
+consists of gloomy forests or insalubrious marshes, lower and more
+humid towards Gaul, more hilly and bleak towards Noricum and Pannonia.
+The soil is suited to the production of grain, but less so for the
+cultivation of fruits. Flocks and herds abound, but the cattle are
+somewhat small. Their herds are their most valued possessions. Silver
+and gold the gods have denied them, whether in mercy or in wrath I
+cannot determine. Nor is iron plentiful with them, as may be judged
+from their weapons. Swords or long spears they rarely use, for they
+fight chiefly with javelins and shields. Their strength lies mainly in
+their foot, and such is the swiftness of the infantry that it can suit
+and match the motions and engagements of the cavalry.
+
+Generals are chosen for their courage, kings are elected through
+distinction of race. The power of the rulers is not unlimited or
+arbitrary, and the generals secure obedience mainly by force of the
+example of their own enterprise and bravery.
+
+Therefore, when going on a campaign, they carry with them sacred images
+taken from the sacred groves. It is their custom also to flock to the
+field of war not merely in battalions, but with whole families and
+tribes of relations. Thus, close to the scene of conflict are lodged
+the most cherished pledges of nature, and the cries of wives and
+infants are heard mingling with the echoes of battle. Their wounds
+and injuries they carry to their mothers and wives, and the women
+administer food and encouragement to their husbands and sons even while
+these are engaged in fighting.
+
+
+_II.--Customs of Government and War_
+
+Mercury is the god most generally worshipped. To him at certain times
+it is lawful to offer even human sacrifices. Hercules, Mars, and Isis
+are also recognised as deities. From the majesty of celestial beings,
+the Germans judge it to be unsuitable to hold their shrines within
+walls, or to represent them under any human likeness. They therefore
+consecrate whole woods and groves, and on these sylvan retreats they
+bestow the names of the deities, thus beholding the divinities only in
+contemplation and mental reverence.
+
+Although the chiefs regulate affairs of minor import, the whole nation
+deliberates concerning matters of higher consequence, the chiefs
+afterwards discussing the public decision. The assemblies gather
+leisurely, for sometimes many do not arrive for two or three days. The
+priests enjoin silence, and on them is devolved the prerogative of
+correction. The chiefs are heard according to precedence, or age, or
+nobility, or warlike celebrity, or eloquence. Ability to persuade has
+more influence than authority to command. Inarticulate murmurs express
+displeasure at a proposition, pleasure is indicated by the brandishing
+of javelins and the clashing of arms.
+
+Punishments vary with the character of crime. Traitors and deserters
+are hanged on trees; cowards, sluggards, and vicious women are
+smothered in bogs. Fines, to be paid in horses or cattle, are exacted
+for lighter offences, part of the mulct being awarded to the party
+wronged, part to the chief.
+
+The Germans transact no business without carrying arms, but no man
+thus bears weapons till the community has tested his capacity to
+wield them. When the public approval has been signified, the youth is
+invested in the midst of the assembly by his father or other relative
+with a shield and javelin.
+
+Their chief distinction is to be constantly surrounded by a great
+band of select young men, for their honour in peace and their help in
+warfare.
+
+In battle it is disgraceful to a chief to be surpassed in feats of
+bravery, and it is an indelible reproach to his followers to return
+alive from a conflict in which their prince has been slain. The chief
+fights for victory, his followers fight for him. The Germans are so
+restless that they cannot endure repose, and thus many of the young
+men of rank, if their own tribe is tranquil, quit it for a community
+which happens to be engaged in war. In place of pay the retainers are
+supplied with daily repasts, grossly prepared, but always profuse.
+
+
+_III.--Domestic Customs of the Germans_
+
+Intervals of peace are not much devoted to the chase by the Germans,
+but rather to indolence, to sleep, and to feasting. Many surrender
+themselves entirely to sloth and gluttony, the cares of house, lands,
+and possessions being left to the wives. It is an astonishing paradox
+that in the same men should co-exist so much delight in idleness and so
+great a repugnance to tranquil life.
+
+The Germans do not dwell in cities, and endure no contiguity in their
+abodes, inhabiting spots distinct and apart, just as they fancy,
+a fountain, a grove, or a field. Their villages consist of houses
+arranged in opposite rows, not joined together as are ours. Each is
+detached, with space around, and mortar and tiles are unknown. Many, in
+winter, retreat to holes dug in the ground, to which they convey their
+grain.
+
+The laws of matrimony are strictly observed, and polygamy is rarely
+practised among the Germans. The dowry is not brought by the wife,
+but by the husband. Conjugal infidelity is exceedingly rare, and is
+instantly punished. In all families the children are reared without
+clothing, and thus grow into those physical proportions which are so
+wonderful to look upon. They are invariably suckled by their mothers,
+never being entrusted to nursemaids. The young people do not hasten to
+marry, and thus the robust vigour of the parents is inherited by their
+offspring.
+
+No nation was ever more noted for hospitality. It is esteemed inhuman
+to refuse to admit to the home any stranger whatever. Every comer is
+willingly received and generously feasted. Hosts and guests delight in
+exchanging gifts. To continue drinking night and day is no reproach
+to any man. Quarrels through inebriety are very frequent, and these
+often result in injuries and in fatalities. But likewise, in these
+convivial feasts they usually deliberate about effecting reconciliation
+between those who are at enmity, and also about forming affinities, the
+election of chiefs, and peace and war.
+
+Slaves gained in gambling with dice are exchanged in commerce to
+remove the shame of such victories. Of their other slaves each has a
+dwelling of his own, his lord treating him like a tenant, exacting
+from him an amount of grain, or cattle, or cloth. Thus their slaves
+are not subservient as are ours. For they do not perform services in
+the households of their masters, these duties falling to the wives and
+children of the family. Slaves are rarely seen in chains or punished
+with stripes, though in the heat of passion they may sometimes be
+killed.
+
+Usury and borrowing at interest are unknown. The families every year
+shift on the spacious plains, cultivating fresh allotments of the
+soil. Only corn is grown, for there is no inclination to expend toil
+proportionate to the capacity of the lands by planting orchards, or
+enclosing meadows, or watering gardens.
+
+Their funerals are not ostentatious, neither apparel nor perfumes being
+accumulated on the pile, though the arms of the deceased are thrown
+into the fire. Little demonstration is made in weeping or wailing, but
+the grief endures long. So much concerning the customs of the whole
+German nation.
+
+
+_IV.--Tribes of the West and North_
+
+I shall now describe the institutions of the several tribes, as they
+differ from one another, giving also an account of those who from
+thence removed, migrating to Gaul. That the Gauls were more powerful
+in former times is shown by that prince of authors, the deified Julius
+C�sar. Hence it is probable that they have passed into Germany.
+
+The region between the Hercynian forest and the rivers Maine and Rhine
+was occupied by the Helvetians, as was that beyond it by the Boians,
+both Gallic tribes. The Treveri and Nervii fervently aspire to the
+reputation of descent from the Germans, and the Vangiones, Triboci, and
+Nemetes, all dwelling by the Rhine, are certainly all Germans. The Ubii
+are ashamed of their origin and delight to be called Agrippinenses,
+after the name of the founder of the Roman colony which they were
+judged worthy of being constituted.
+
+The Batavi are the bravest of all these nations. They inhabit a little
+territory by the Rhine, but possess an island on it. Becoming willingly
+part of the Roman empire, they are free from all impositions and pay no
+tribute, but are reserved wholly for wars, precisely like a magazine of
+weapons and armour. In the same position are the Mattiaci, living on
+the opposite banks and enjoying a settlement and limits of their own,
+while they are in spirit and inclination attached to us.
+
+Beginning at the Hercynian forest are the Catti, a robust and vigorous
+people, possessed also of much sense and ability. They are not only
+singularly brave, but are more skilled in the true art of war than
+other Germans.
+
+Near the Catti were formerly dwelling the Bructeri, in whose stead are
+now settled the Chamani and the Angrivarii, by whom the Bructeri were
+expelled and almost exterminated, to the benefit of us Romans. May the
+gods perpetuate among these nations their mutual hatred, since fortune
+befriends our empire by sowing strife amongst our foes!
+
+The country of the Frisii, facing that of the Angrivarii and the
+Chamani, is divided into two sections, called the greater and the
+lesser, which both extend along the Rhine to the ocean.
+
+Hitherto I have been describing Germany towards the west. Northward it
+stretches with an immense compass. The great tribe of the Chauci occupy
+the whole region between the districts of the Frisii and of the Catti.
+These Chauci are the noblest people of all the Germans. They prefer to
+maintain their greatness by justice rather than by violence, seeking to
+live in tranquillity, and to avoid quarrels with others.
+
+By the side of the Chauci and the Catti dwell the Cherusci, a people
+who have degenerated in both influence and character. Finding no
+enemy to stimulate them, they were enfeebled by too lasting a peace,
+and whereas they were formerly styled good and upright, they are now
+called cowards and fools, having been subdued by the Catti. In the same
+winding tract live the Cimbri, close to the sea, a tribe now small in
+numbers but great in fame for many monuments of their old renown. It
+was in the 610th year of Rome, C�cilius Metellus and Papirius Carbo
+being consuls, that the first mention was made of the arms of the
+Cimbri. From that date to the second consulship of the Emperor Trajan
+comprehends an interval of nearly 210 years; so long a period has our
+conquest of Germany occupied. In so great an interval many have been
+the disasters on both sides.
+
+Indeed, not from the Samnites, or from the Carthaginians, or from the
+people of Spain, or from all the tribes of Gaul, or even from the
+Parthians, have we received more checks or encountered more alarms. For
+the passion of the Germans for liberty is more indomitable than that of
+the Arsacid�. What has the power of the East to lay to our dishonour?
+But the overthrow and abasement of Crassus, and the loss by the Romans
+of five great armies, all commanded by consuls, have to be laid to the
+account of the Germans. By the Germans, also, even the Emperor Augustus
+was deprived of Varus and three legions.
+
+Only with great difficulty and the loss of many men were the Germans
+defeated by Caius Marius in Italy, or by the deified Julius C�sar
+in Gaul, or by Drusus, or Tiberius, or Germanicus in their native
+territories. And next, the strenuous menaces of Caligula against these
+foes ended in mockery and ridicule. Afterwards, for a season they were
+quiet, till, tempted to take advantage of our domestic schisms and
+civil wars, they stormed and seized the winter entrenchments of our
+legions, and attempted the conquest of Gaul. Though they were once more
+repulsed, our success was rather a triumph than an overwhelming victory.
+
+
+_V.--The Great Nation of the Suevi_
+
+Next I must refer to the Suevi, who are not, like the Catti, a
+homogeneous people, but are divided into several tribes, all bearing
+distinct names, although they likewise are called by the generic title
+of Suevi. They occupy the larger part of Germany. From other Germans
+they are distinguished by their peculiar fashion of twisting their
+hair into a knot, this also marking the difference between the freemen
+and their slaves. Of all the tribes of the Suevi, the Semnones esteem
+themselves to be the most ancient and the noblest, their faith in
+their antiquity being confirmed by the mysteries of their religion.
+Annually in a sacred grove the deputies of each family clan assemble to
+repeat the rites practised by their ancestors. The horrible ceremonies
+commence with the sacrifice of a man. Their tradition is that at this
+spot the nation originated, and that here the supreme deity resides.
+The Semnones inhabit a hundred towns, and by their superior numbers and
+authority dominate the rest of the Suevi.
+
+On the contrary, the Langobardi are ennobled by the paucity of their
+number, for, though surrounded by powerful tribes, they assert
+their superiority by their valour and skill instead of displaying
+obsequiousness. Next come the Reudigni, the Aviones, the Angli, the
+Varini, the Eudoses, the Suardones and the Nuithones, all defended by
+rivers or forests.
+
+These are marked by no special characteristics, excepting the common
+worship of the goddess Nerthum, or Mother Earth, of whom they believe
+that she not only intervenes in human affairs, but also visits the
+nations. In a certain island of the sea is a wood called Castum. Here
+is kept a chariot sacred to the goddess, covered with a curtain, and
+permitted to be touched only by her priest, who perceives her whenever
+she enters the holy vehicle, and with deepest veneration attends the
+motion of the chariot, which is always drawn by yoked cows. Till the
+same priests re-conducts the goddess to her shrine, after she has grown
+weary of intercourse with mortals, feasts and games are held with great
+rejoicings, no arms are touched, and none go to war. Slaves wash the
+chariot and curtains in a sacred lake, and, if you will believe it, the
+goddess herself; and forthwith these unfortunate beings are doomed to
+be swallowed up in the same lake.
+
+This portion of the Suevian territory stretches to the centre of
+Germany. Next adjoining is the district of the Hermunduri (I am now
+following the course of the Danube as I previously did that of the
+Rhine), a tribe faithful to the Romans. To them, accordingly, alone
+of all the Germans, is commerce permitted. They travel everywhere at
+their own discretion. When to others we show nothing more than our arms
+and our encampments, to this people we open our houses, as to men who
+are not longing to possess them. The Elbe rises in the territory of the
+Hermunduri.
+
+
+_VI.--The Tribes of the Frontier_
+
+Near the Hermunduri reside the Narisci, and next the Marcomanni and
+the Quadi, the former being the more famed for strength and bravery,
+for it was by force that they acquired their location, expelling from
+it the Boii. Now, here is, as it were, the frontier of Germany, as far
+as it is washed by the Danube. Not less powerful are several tribes
+whose territories enclose the lands of those just named--the Marsigni,
+the Gothini, the Osi, and the Burii. The Marsigni in speech and dress
+resemble the Suevi; but as the Gothini speak Gallic, and the Osi the
+Pannonian language, and as they endure the imposition of tribute, it is
+manifest that neither of these peoples are Germans.
+
+Upon them, as aliens, tribute is imposed, partly by the Sarmat�, partly
+by the Quadi, and, to deepen their disgrace, the Gothini are forced
+to labour in the iron mines. Little level country is possessed by all
+these several tribes, for they are located among mountainous forest
+regions, Suevia being parted by a continuous range of mountains, beyond
+which live many nations. Of these, the most numerous and widely spread
+are the Lygii. Among others, the most powerful are the Arii, the
+Helvecon�, the Manimi, the Elysii, and the Naharvali.
+
+The Arii are the most numerous, and also the fiercest of the tribes
+just enumerated. They carry black shields, paint their bodies black,
+and choose dark nights for engaging in battle. The ghastly aspect of
+their army strikes terror into their foes, for in all battles the
+eyes are vanquished first. Beyond the Lygii dwell the Gothones, ruled
+by a king, and thus held in stricter subjection than the other German
+tribes, yet not so that their liberties are extinguished. Immediately
+adjacent are the Rugii and the Lemovii, dwelling by the coast. The
+characteristic of both is the use of a round shield and a short sword.
+
+Next are the Suiones, a seafaring community with very powerful fleets.
+The ships differ in form from ours in possessing prows at each end,
+so as to be always ready to row to shore without turning. They are
+not propelled by sails, and have no benches of oars at the sides. The
+rowers ply in all parts of the ship alike, and change their oars from
+place to place according as the course is shifted hither and thither.
+Great homage is paid among them to wealth; they are governed by a
+single chief, who exacts implicit obedience. Arms are not used by these
+people indiscriminately, as by other German tribes. Weapons are shut up
+under the care of a slave. The reason is that the ocean always protects
+the Suiones from their foes, and also that armed bands, when not
+employed, grow easily demoralised.
+
+Beyond the Suiones is another sea, dense and calm. It is thought that
+by this the whole globe is bounded, for the reflection of the sun,
+after his setting, continues till he rises, and that so radiantly as to
+obscure the stars. Popular opinion even adds that the tumult is heard
+of his emerging from the ocean, and that at sunrise forms divine are
+seen, and also the rays about his head. Only thus far extend the limits
+of Nature, if what fame reports be true.
+
+The �stii reside on the right of the Suevian Sea. Their dress and
+customs resemble those of the Suevi, but the language is akin to that
+of Britain. They worship the Mother of gods, and wear images of boars,
+without any weapons, superstitiously trusting the goddess and the
+images to safeguard them. But they cultivate the soil with much greater
+zeal than is usual with Germans, and they even search the ocean, and
+are the only people who gather amber, which they find in the shallows
+and along the shore. It lay long neglected till it gained value from
+our luxury.
+
+Bordering on the Suiones are the Sitones, agreeing with them in all
+things excepting that they are governed by a woman. So emphatically
+have they degenerated, not merely from liberty, but even below a
+condition of bondage. Here end the territories of the Suevi. Whether
+I ought to include the Peucini, the Venedi, and the Fenni among the
+Sarmat� or the Germani I cannot determine, although the Peucini speak
+the same language with the Germani, dress, build, and live like them,
+and resemble them in dirt and sloth.
+
+What further accounts we have are fabulous, and these I leave
+untouched.
+
+
+
+
+HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE
+
+History of English Literature
+
+  Two years before the appearance of his "Histoire de la
+  Litt�rature Anglaise" Taine had aroused a lively interest in
+  England by his "Notes sur l'Angleterre," a work showing much
+  wayward sympathy for the English character, and an irregular
+  understanding of English institutions. The same mixed impression
+  was produced by the laboriously conceived and brilliantly
+  written "History of English Literature." Taine (see Vol. XXIV,
+  p. 177) wrote to a theory that often worked out into curious
+  contradictions. His method was to show how men have been shaped
+  by the environments and tendencies of their age. Unfortunately,
+  having formed an idea of the kind of literature our age should
+  produce according to his theory, he had eyes for nothing
+  except what he expected to find. He went to literature for his
+  confirmations of his reading of history. Taine's criticism,
+  in consequence, is often incomplete, and more piquant than
+  trustworthy. The failure to appreciate some of the great English
+  writers--notably Shakespeare and Milton--is patent. Still, the
+  critic always had the will to be just, and no foreigner has
+  devoted such complimentary labour to the formation of a complete
+  estimate of English literature. The book was published in 1863-4.
+
+
+_Saxon and Norman_
+
+History has been revolutionised by the study of literatures. A work
+of literature is now perceived, not to be a solitary caprice, but a
+transcript of contemporary manners, from which we may read the style
+of man's feelings for centuries back. By the study of a literature,
+one may construct a moral history, the psychology of a people. To find
+a complete literature is rare. Only ancient Greece, and modern France
+and England offer a complete series of great literary monuments. I
+have chosen England because it is alive, and one can see it with more
+detachment than one can see France.
+
+Huge white bodies, cool-blooded, with fierce blue eyes, reddish flaxen
+hair; ravenous stomachs filled with meat and cheese and heated by
+strong drinks; a cold temperament, slow to love, home-staying, prone
+to drunkenness--these are to this day the features which descent
+and climate preserve to the English race. The heavy human brute
+gluts himself with sensations and noise, and this appetite finds a
+grazing-ground in blows and battle. Strife for strife's sake such is
+their pleasure. A race so constituted was predisposed to Christianity
+by its gloom, and beyond Christianity foreign culture could not graft
+any fruitful branch on this barbarous stock. The Norman conquerors of
+France had by intermarriage become a Latin race, and nimbly educated
+themselves from the Gauls, who boasted of "talking with ease." When
+they crossed to England, they introduced new manners and a new spirit.
+They taught the Saxon how ideas fall in order, and which ideas are
+agreeable; they taught him how to be clear, amusing, and pungent. At
+length, after long impotence of Norman literature, which was content to
+copy, and of Saxon literature, which bore no fruit, a definite language
+was attained, and there was room for a great writer.
+
+
+_Chaucer_
+
+Then Geoffrey Chaucer appeared, inventive though a disciple, original
+though a translator, and by his genius, education, and life was
+enabled to know and depict a whole world, but above all to satisfy the
+chivalric world and the splendid courts which shone upon the heights.
+He belonged to it, and took such part in it that his life from end to
+end was that of a man of the world and a man of action.
+
+Two motives raised the middle age above the chaos of barbarism, one
+religious, which fashioned the gigantic cathedrals, the other secular,
+which built the feudal fortresses. The one produced the adventurous
+hero, the other the mystical monk. These master-passions gave way at
+last to monotony of habit and taste for worldliness. Something was then
+needed to make the evening hours flow sweetly. The lords at table have
+finished dinner; the poet arrives; they ask him for his subject, and he
+answers "Love."
+
+There is something more pleasant than a fine narrative, and that is a
+collection of fine narratives, especially when the narratives are all
+of different colouring. This collection Chaucer gave us, and more. If
+over-excited, he is always graceful, polished, full of light banter,
+half-mockeries, somewhat gossipy. An elegant speaker, facile, every
+ready to smile, he makes of love not a passion but a gay feast. But if
+he was romantic and gay after the fashion of his age, he also had a
+fashion of his own. He observes characters, notes their differences,
+studies the coherence of their parts, brings forward living and
+distinct persons--a thing unheard of in his time. It is the English
+positive good sense and aptitude for seeing the inside of things
+beginning to appear. Chaucer ceases to gossip, and thinks. Each tale is
+suited to the teller. Instead of surrendering himself to the facility
+of glowing improvisation, he plans. All his tales are bound together by
+veritable incidents which spring from the characters of the personages,
+and are such as we light upon in our travels. He advanced beyond the
+threshold of his art, but he paused in the vestibule. He half-opens
+the door of the temple, but does not take his seat there; at most he
+sat down at intervals. His voice is like that of a boy breaking into
+manhood. He sets out as if to quit the middle ages; but in the end he
+is still there.
+
+
+_The Renaissance_
+
+For seventeen centuries a deep and sad thought had weighed upon
+the spirit of man--the idea of his impotence and decadence. Greek
+corruption, Roman oppression, and the dissolution of the old world had
+given it birth; it, in its turn, had produced a stoical resignation,
+an epicurean indifference, Alexandrian mysticism, and the Christian
+hope in the Kingdom of God. At last invention makes another start. All
+was renewed, America and the Indies were added to the map. The system
+of the universe was propounded, the experimental sciences were set
+on foot, art and literature shot forth like a harvest, and religion
+was transformed. It seems as though men had suddenly opened their
+eyes and seen. They attained a new and superior kind of intelligence
+which produced extraordinary warmth of soul, a super-abundant and
+splendid imagination, reveries, visions, artists, believers, founders,
+creators. This was Europe's grand age, and the most notable epoch
+of human growth. To this day we live from its sap. To vent the
+feelings, to set free boldly on all the roads of existence the pack
+of appetites and instincts, this was the craving which the manners of
+the time betrayed. It was "merry England," as they called it then.
+It was not yet stern and constrained. It extended widely, freely,
+and rejoiced to find itself so expanded. A few sectarians, chiefly
+in the towns, clung gloomily to the Bible; but the Court, and the
+men of the world sought their teachers and their heroes from Pagan
+Greece and Rome. Nearer still was another Paganism, that of Italy,
+and civilisation was drawn thence as from a spring. Transplanted into
+different races and climates, this paganism received from each a
+distinct character--in England it becomes English. Here Surrey--the
+English Petrarch--introduced a new style, a manly style, which marks
+a great transformation of the mind. He looks forward to the last line
+while writing the first, and keeps the strongest word for the last.
+He collects his phrases in harmonious periods, and by his inversions
+adds force to his ideas. Every epithet contains an idea, every metaphor
+a sentiment. Those who have ideas now possess in the new-born art an
+instrument capable of expressing them. In half a century English
+writers had introduced every artifice of language, period, and style.
+
+Luxuriance and irregularity were the two features of the new
+literature. Sir Philip Sydney may be selected as exhibiting the
+greatness and the folly of the prevailing taste. How can his pastoral
+epic, "The Arcadia," be described? It is but a recreation, a poetical
+romance written in the country for the amusement of a sister, a work
+of fashion, a relic, but it shows the best of the general spirit,
+the jargon of the world of culture, fantastic imagination, excessive
+sentiment, a medley of events which suited men scarcely recovered from
+barbarism. At his period men's heads were full of tragical images,
+and Sydney's "Arcadia" contains enough of them to supply half a dozen
+epics. And Sydney was only a soldier in an army; there is a multitude
+about him, a multitude of poets. How happens it that when this
+generation was exhausted true poetry ended in England as true painting
+in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the mind came and
+passed away. These men had new ideas and no theories in their heads.
+Their emotions were not the same as ours. For them all things had a
+soul, and though they had no more beauty then than now, men found them
+more beautiful.
+
+
+_Spenser_
+
+Among all the poems of this time there is one truly divine--Spenser's
+"Fa�rie Queene." Everything in his life was calculated to lead Spenser
+to ideal poetry; but the heart within is the true poet. Before all,
+his was a soul captivated by sublime and chaste beauty. Philosophy and
+landscapes, ceremonies and ornaments, splendours of the country and
+the court, on all which he painted or thought he impressed his inward
+nobleness. Spenser remains calm in the fervour of invention. He is
+epic, that is, a narrator. No modern is more like Homer. Like Homer,
+he is always simple and clear; he makes no leap, he omits no argument,
+he preserves the natural sequence of ideas while presenting noble
+classical images. Like Homer, again, he is redundant, ingenuous: even
+childish. He says everything, and repeats without limit his ornamental
+epithets.
+
+To expand in epic faculties in the region where his soul is naturally
+borne, he requires an ideal stage, situated beyond the bounds of
+reality, in a world which could never be. His most genuine sentiments
+are fairy-like. Magic is the mould of his mind. He carries everything
+that he looks upon into an enchanted land. Only the world of chivalry
+could have furnished materials for so elevated a fancy. It is the
+beauty in the poet's heart which his whole works try to express, a
+noble yet laughing beauty, English in sentiment, Italian in externals,
+chivalric in subject, representing a unique epoch, the appearance of
+Paganism in a Christian race, and the worship of form by an imagination
+of the North.
+
+Among the prose writers of the Pagan renaissance, two may be singled
+out as characteristic, namely, Robert Burton--an ecclesiastic and
+university recluse who dabbled in all the sciences, was gifted with
+enthusiasm and spasmodically gay, but as a rule sad and morose, and
+according to circumstances a poet, an eccentric, a humorist, a madman,
+or a Puritan--and Francis Bacon, the most comprehensive, sensible,
+originative mind of the age; a great and luminous intellect. After more
+than two centuries it is still to Bacon that we go to discover the
+theory of what we are attempting and doing.
+
+
+_The Theatre_
+
+The theatre was a special product of the English Renaissance. If ever
+there was a living and natural work, it is here. There were already
+seven theatres in Shakespeare's time, so great and universal was the
+taste for representations. The inborn instincts of the people had not
+been tamed, nor muzzled, nor diminished. We hear from the stage as from
+the history of the times, the fierce murmur of all the passions. Not
+one of them was lacking. The poets who established the drama, carried
+in themselves the sentiments which the drama represents. Greene,
+Marlowe, and the rest, were ill-regulated, passionate, outrageously
+vehement and audacious. The drama is found in Marlowe as the plant in
+the seed, and Marlowe was a primitive man, the slave of his passions,
+the sport of his dreams. Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Jonson,
+Webster, Massinger, Ford, appear close upon each other, a new and
+favoured generation, flourishing in the soil fertilised by the efforts
+of the generation which preceded them. The characters they produced
+were such as either excite terror by their violence, or pity by their
+grace. Passion ravages all around when their tragic figures are on the
+stage; and contrasted with them is a troop of sweet and timid figures,
+tender before everything, and the most loveworthy it has been given to
+man to depict. The men are warlike, imperious, unpolished; the women
+have sweetness, devotion, patience, inextinguishable affection--a thing
+unknown in distant lands, and in France especially. With these women
+love becomes almost a holy thing. They aim not at pleasure but at
+devotion. When a new civilisation brings a new art to light there are
+about a dozen men of talent who express the general idea surrounding
+one or two men of genius who express it thoroughly. The first
+constitute the chorus, the others the leaders. The leaders in this
+movement are Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.
+
+Ben Jonson was a genuine Englishman, big and coarsely framed,
+combative, proud, often morose, prone to strain splenitic imaginations.
+His knowledge was vast. In an age of great scholars he is one of
+the best classics of his time. Other poets for the most part are
+visionaries; Jonson is all but a logician. Whatever he undertakes,
+whatever be his faults, haughtiness, rough-handling, predilection
+for morality and the past, he is never little or commonplace. Nearly
+all his work consists of comedies, not sentimental and fanciful as
+Shakespeare's, but satirical, written to represent and correct follies
+and vices. Even when he grew old his imagination remained abundant and
+fresh. He is the brother of Shakespeare.
+
+
+_Shakespeare_
+
+Only this great age could have cradled such a child as Shakespeare.
+What soul! What extent of action, and what sovereignty of an unique
+faculty! What diverse creations, and what persistence of the same
+impress! Look now. Do you not see the poet behind the crowd of his
+creations? They have all shown somewhat of him. Ready, impetuous,
+impassioned, delicate, his genius is pure imagination, touched
+more vividly and by slighter things than ours. Hence, his style,
+blooming with exuberant images, loaded with exaggerated metaphors. An
+extraordinary species of mind, all-powerful, excessive, equally master
+of the sublime and the base, the most creative that ever engaged in the
+exact copy of the details of actual existence, in the dazzling caprice
+of fancy, in the profound complications of superhuman passions; a
+nature inspired, superior to reason, extreme in joy and pain, abrupt of
+gait, stormy and impetuous in its transports!
+
+Shakespeare images with copiousness and excess; he spreads metaphors
+profusely over all he writes; it is a series of painting which is
+unfolded in his mind, picture on picture, image on image, he is forever
+copying the strange and splendid visions which are heaped up within
+him. Such an imagination must needs be vehement. Every metaphor is a
+convulsion. Shakespeare's style is a compound of curious impressions.
+He never sees things tranquilly. Like a fiery and powerful horse, he
+bounds but cannot run. He flies, we creep. He is obscure and original
+beyond all the poets of his or any other age--the most immoderate of
+all violaters of language, the most marvellous of all creators of
+souls. The critic is lost in Shakespeare as in an immense town. He can
+only describe a few monuments and entreat the reader to imagine the
+city.
+
+
+_The Christian Renaissance_
+
+Following the pagan came the Christian Renaissance born of the
+Reformation, a new birth in harmony with the genius of the Germanic
+peoples. It must be admitted that the Reformation entered England by a
+side door. It was established when Henry VIII. permitted the English
+Bible to be published. England had her book. Hence have sprung much
+of the English language and half of the English manners; to this day
+the country is Biblical. After the Bible the book most widely-read
+in England is the Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. It is a manual
+of devotion for the use of simple folk. In it we hear a man of the
+people speaking to the people, who would render intelligible to all
+the terrible doctrine of damnation and salvation. Allegory is natural
+to Bunyan. He employs it from necessity. He only grasps truth when
+it is made simple by images. His work is allegorical, that it may
+be intelligible. Bunyan is a poet because he is a child. He has the
+freedom, the tone, the ease, the clearness of Homer; he is as close
+to Homer as an Anabaptist tinker could be to a heroic singer. He and
+Milton survived as the two last poets of the Reformation, oppressed
+and insulted, but their work continues without noise, for the ideal
+they raised was, after all, that which the time suggested and the race
+demanded.
+
+
+_Milton_
+
+John Milton was not one of those fevered souls whose rapture takes them
+by fits, and whose inquietude condemns them to paint the contradictions
+of passion. His mind was lucid, his imagination limited. He does not
+create souls but constructs arguments. Emotions and arguments are
+arranged beneath a unique sentiment, that of the sublime, and the broad
+river of lyric poetry streams from him with even flow, splendid as a
+cloth of gold.
+
+Against external fluctuations he found a refuge in himself; and the
+ideal city which he had built in his soul endured impregnable to all
+assaults. He believed in the sublime with the whole force of his
+nature, and the whole authority of his logic. When after a generous
+education he returned from his travels he threw himself into the strife
+of the times heartily, armed with logic, indignation and learning,
+and protected by conviction and conscience. I have before me the
+formidable volume in which his prose works were collected. What a book!
+The chairs creak when you place it upon them. How we cannot fix our
+attention on the same point for a page at a time. We require manageable
+ideas; we have disused the big two-handed sword of our forefathers.
+If Michael Angelo's prophets could speak, it would be in Milton's
+style. Overloaded with ornaments, infinitely prolonged, these periods
+are triumphant choruses of angelic Alleluias sung by deep voices to
+the accompaniment of ten thousand harps of gold. But is he truly a
+prose-writer? Entangled dialectics, a heavy and awkward mind, fanatical
+and ferocious provincialism, the blast and temerities of implacable
+passion, the sublimity of religious and lyric exaltation--we do not
+recognize in these features a man born to explain, persuade, and prove.
+
+As a poet Milton wrote not by impulse but like a man of letters with
+the assistance of books, seeing objects as much through previous
+writings as in themselves, adding to his images the images of others,
+borrowing and recasting their inventions. He made thus for himself
+a composite and brilliant style, less natural than that of his
+precursors, less fit for effusions, less akin to the lively first
+glow of sensation, but more solid, more regular, more capable of
+concentrating in one large patch of light all their sparklings and
+splendours. He compacted and ennobled the poets' domain.
+
+When, however, after seventeen years of fighting and misfortune had
+steeped his soul in religious ideas, mythology yielded to theology,
+the habit of discussion subdued the lyric light. The poet no longer
+sings sublime verse, he harangues in grave verse, he gives us correct
+solemn discourses. Adam and Eve the first pair! I listen and hear two
+reasoners of the period--Colonel Hutchinson and his wife. Heavens!
+dress them at once. Folks so cultivated should have invented before all
+a pair of trousers and modesty. This Adam enters Paradise via England.
+There he learnt respectability and moral speechifying. Adam was your
+true _pater familias_ with a vote, an old Oxford man, consulted at
+need by his wife, and dealing out to her with prudent measure the
+scientific explanations which she requires. The flow of dissertations
+never pauses. From Paradise it gets into Heaven. Milton's Jehovah is a
+grave king who maintains a suitable state something like Charles I. The
+finest thing in connection with Paradise is Hell; and in this history
+of God, the chief part is taken by the devil. No poetic creation equals
+in horror and grandeur the spectacle that greeted Satan on leaving his
+dungeon.
+
+But what a heaven! One would rather enter Charles I's troops of
+lackeys, or Cromwell's Ironsides. What a gap between this monarchical
+frippery and the visions of Dante! To the poet of the Apocalypse the
+voice of the deity was "as the sound of many waters; and he had in
+his right hand seven stars; and his countenance was as the sun shining
+in his strength; and when I saw him I fell at his feet as dead." When
+Milton arranged his celestial show, he did not fall at his feet as dead.
+
+When we take in, in one view, the vast literary region of England,
+extending from the restoration of the Stuarts to the French Revolution,
+we perceive that all the productions bear a classical impress, such as
+is met with neither in the preceding nor in the succeeding time. This
+classical art finds its centre in the labours of Pope, and above all in
+Pope, whose favourite author is Dryden, of all English poets the least
+inspired and the most classical. Pope gave himself up to versification.
+He did not write because he thought, but he thought in order to write.
+I wish I could admire his works of imagination, but I cannot. I know
+the machinery. There is, however, a poet in Pope, and to discover
+him we have only to read him in fragments. Each verse in Pope is a
+masterpiece if taken alone. There is a classical architecture of ideas,
+and of all the masters who have practised it in England Pope is the
+most skilled.
+
+
+_The Modern Spirit_
+
+The spirit of the modern revolution broke out first in a Scotch
+peasant, Robert Burns. Scarcely ever was seen together more of misery
+and talent. Burns cries out in favour of instinct and joy. Love was his
+main business. In him for the first time a poet spoke as men speak, or,
+rather, as they think, without premeditation, with a mixture of all
+styles. Burns was much in advance of his age, and the life of men in
+advance of their age is not wholesome. He died worn out at 37. In him
+old narrow moralities give place to the wide sympathy of the modern man.
+
+Now appeared the English romantic school. Among the multitude of its
+writers we may distinguish Southey, a clever man, a producer of
+decorative poems to suit the fashion; Coleridge, a poor fellow who had
+steeped himself in mystical theories; Thomas More, a witty railer; and
+Walter Scott, the favourite of his age, who was read over the whole
+of Europe, was almost equal to Shakespeare, had more popularity than
+Voltaire, earned about �200,000, and taught us all history. Scott gave
+to Scotland a citizenship of literature. Scott loves men from the
+bottom of his heart. By his fundamental honesty and wide humanity he
+was the Homer of modern life.
+
+When the philosophical spirit passed from Germany to England,
+transformed itself and became Anglican, deformed itself and became
+revolutionary, it produced a Wordsworth, a Byron, a Shelley.
+Wordsworth, a new Cowper, with less talent and more ideas, was
+essentially an interior man, engrossed by the concerns of the soul. To
+such men life becomes a grave business on which we must incessantly and
+scrupulously reflect. Wordsworth was a wise and happy man, a thinker
+and dreamer, who read and walked and listened in deep calm to his own
+thoughts. The peace was so great within him and around him that he
+could perceive the imperceptible. He saw grandeur and beauty in the
+trivial events which weave the woof of our most commonplace days.
+His "Excursion" is like a Protestant temple--august though bare and
+monstrous.
+
+Shelley, one of the greatest poets of the age, beautiful as an angel,
+of extraordinary precocity, sweet, generous, tender, overflowing
+with gifts of heart, mind, birth, and fortune, marred his life by
+introducing into his conduct the enthusiastic imagination he should
+have kept for his verse. His world is beyond our own. We move in it
+between heaven and earth, in abstraction, dreamland, symbolism. Shelley
+loved desert and solitary places, where man enjoys the pleasure of
+believing infinite what he sees--infinite as his soul. Verily there
+is a soul in everything; in the universe is a soul; even beyond the
+sensible form shines a secret essence and something divine which we
+catch sight of by sublime illuminations, never reaching or penetrating
+it. The poets hear the great heart of nature beat; they would reach it.
+One alone, Byron, succeeds.
+
+I have reserved for the last the greatest and most English artist, from
+whom we may learn more truths of his country and of his age than from
+all the rest. All styles appear dull, and all souls sluggish by the
+side of Byron's. No such great poet has had so narrow an imagination.
+They are his own sorrows, his own revolts, his own travels, which,
+hardly transformed and modified, he introduces into his verses. He
+never could make a poem save of his own heart. If Goethe was the poet
+of the universe, Byron was the poet of the individual; and if the
+German genius found its interpretation in the one, the English genius
+found its interpretation in the other.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY DAVID THOREAU
+
+"Walden"
+
+  Henry David Thoreau, America's poet-naturalist, as he might
+  be called, was born at Concord, Mass., on July 12, 1817. His
+  great-grandparents were natives of the Channel Islands, whence
+  his grandfather emigrated. Thoreau was educated at Hartford, and
+  began work as a teacher, but under the influence of Emerson, in
+  whose house he lived at intervals, made writing his hobby and a
+  study of the outdoor world his occupation. In 1845, as related
+  in "Walden," he built himself a shanty near Walden Pond, on land
+  belonging to Emerson. There he busied himself with writing his
+  "Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers," and in recording his
+  observations in the woods. After the Walden experiment he mingled
+  the pursuit of literature and the doing of odd jobs for a living.
+  His books, "The Maine Woods," "A Yankee in Canada," "Excursions
+  in Field and Wood," were mostly published after his death. He
+  died on May 6, 1862, from consumption. Emerson, Hawthorne, and
+  Alcott were his warm friends in life, and helped the world
+  to appreciate his genius. A poet in heart, Thoreau was only
+  successful in giving his poetry a prose setting, but that setting
+  is harmonised with the utmost delicacy. No one has produced more
+  beautiful effects in English prose with simpler words.
+
+
+_The Simple Life_
+
+When I wrote the following pages, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile
+from any neighbour, in a house I had built for myself, on the shore of
+Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the
+labour of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At
+present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.
+
+Men labour under a mistake. By a seeming fate, commonly called
+necessity, they are employed laying up treasures which moth and rust
+will corrupt. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to
+the end of it if not before.
+
+But it is never too late to give up our prejudices. What old people say
+you cannot do, you try and find that you can. I have lived some thirty
+years and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable advice from
+my seniors.
+
+To many creatures, there is but one necessity of life--food. None of
+the brute creation require more than food and shelter. The necessaries
+of life for man in this climate may be distributed under the several
+heads of food, shelter, clothing, and fuel. I find by my own experience
+a few implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow, etc., and
+for the studious, lamplight, stationery, and access to a few books,
+rank next to necessaries, and can all be obtained at a trifling cost.
+Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life,
+are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind. None can be an
+impartial or wise observer of human life but from the vantage ground of
+voluntary poverty.
+
+
+_Ideals_
+
+If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend my life in
+years past it would probably astonish those who know nothing about it.
+
+I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle dove, and am still
+on their trail. Many are the travellers I have spoken, concerning them,
+describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one
+or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even
+seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to
+recover them as if they had lost them themselves.
+
+How many mornings, summer and winter, before any neighbour was stirring
+about his business, have I been about mine! So many autumn, aye, and
+winter days, spent outside the town trying to hear what was in the
+wind, to hear and carry it. At other times waiting at evening on the
+hill-tops for the sky to fall that I might catch something, though I
+never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again in the
+sun.
+
+For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain
+storms, and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then
+of forest paths. I looked after the wild stock of the town. I have
+watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the
+red pine and the black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet,
+which might have withered else in dry seasons.
+
+My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not to live cheaply nor to live
+dearly there, but to transact some private business with the fewest
+obstacles.
+
+
+_House Building_
+
+When I consider my neighbours, the farmers of Concord, I find that for
+the most part they have been toiling twenty, thirty, or forty years,
+that they may become the real owners of their farms; and we may regard
+one-third of that toil as the cost of their houses. And when the farmer
+has got his house he may not be the richer but the poorer for it, and
+it be the house that has got him. The very simplicity and nakedness
+of men's life in the primitive ages imply that they left him still
+a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep he
+contemplated his journey again. He dwelt as it were in the tent of this
+world. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on
+earth and forgotten Heaven.
+
+Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the
+woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house,
+and began to cut down some tall, arrowy, white pines, still in their
+youth, for timber. It was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered
+with pine woods, through which I looked out on the pond, and a small
+open field in the woods where pines and hickories were springing up.
+Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree,
+having become better acquainted with it.
+
+By the middle of April my house was framed and ready for raising.
+At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of
+my acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for
+neighbourliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my
+house. I began to occupy it on the 4th of July, as soon as it was
+boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully feather-edged and
+lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain, but before
+boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney. I built the chimney after
+my hoeing in the fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing
+my cooking in the meantime out of doors on the ground, early in the
+morning. When it stormed before my bread was baked I fixed a few boards
+over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and passed some
+pleasant hours in that way.
+
+The exact cost of my house, not counting the work, all of which was
+done by myself, was just over twenty-eight dollars. I thus found that
+the student who wishes for a shelter can obtain one for a lifetime at
+an expense not greater than the rent which he now pays annually.
+
+
+_Farming_
+
+Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by
+some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual expenses,
+I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil near it,
+chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn, peas,
+and turnips. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the ploughing,
+though I held the plough myself. My farm outgoes for the first season
+were, for employment, seed, work, etc., 14 dollars 72-1/2 cents. I got
+twelve bushels of beans and eighteen bushels of potatoes, besides some
+peas and sweet corn. My whole income from the farm was 23 dollars 43
+cents, a profit of 8 dollars 71-1/2 cents, besides produce consumed.
+
+The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land that I
+required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience
+of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on
+husbandry, that if one would live simply and eat only the crop which he
+raised, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of ground, and that
+it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen to plough it, and
+he could do all his necessary farm work, as it were, with his left hand
+at odd hours in the summer.
+
+My food for nearly two years was rye and Indian meal without yeast,
+potatoes, rice, a very little salt pork, molasses and salt, and my
+drink water. I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost
+incredibly little trouble to obtain one's necessary food even in this
+latitude, and that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals and
+yet retain health and strength.
+
+Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes,
+which I baked before my fire out of doors, but at last I found a
+mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. I made a
+study of the ancient and indispensable art of bread-making, going back
+to the primitive days. Leaven, which some deem to be the soul of bread,
+I discovered was not indispensable.
+
+Thus I found I could avoid all trade and barter, so far as my food was
+concerned, and having a shelter already, it would only remain to get
+clothing and fuel. My furniture, part of which I made myself, consisted
+of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a looking-glass, three inches
+in diameter, a pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle, a skillet, and a
+frying pan, a dipper, a wash bowl, two knives and forks, three plates,
+one cup, one spoon, a jug for oil, a jug for molasses, and a japanned
+lamp. When I have met an immigrant tottering under a bundle which
+contained his all, I have pitied him, not because it was his all, but
+because he had all that to carry.
+
+
+_Earning a Living_
+
+For more than five years I maintained myself solely by the labour of
+my hands, and I found that by working for about six weeks in the year
+I could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as
+well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have
+thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were out of
+proportion to my income, for I was obliged to dress and train, not to
+say think and believe accordingly; and I lost my time into the bargain.
+I have tried trade; but I have learned that trade curses everything
+it handles; and though you trade in messages from Heaven, the whole
+curse of trade attaches to the business. I found that the occupation of
+day-labourer was the most independent of any, especially as it required
+only thirty or forty days in the year to support me. The labourer's
+day ends with the going down of the sun, and he is then free to devote
+himself to his chosen pursuit, independent of his labour; but his
+employer, who speculates from month to month, has no respite from one
+end of the year to the other.
+
+But all this is very selfish, I have heard some of my townsmen say.
+I confess that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic
+enterprises. However, when I thought to indulge myself in this respect
+by maintaining certain poor persons as comfortably as I maintain
+myself, and even ventured so far as to make them the offer, they one
+and all unhesitatingly preferred to remain poor.
+
+
+_The Life with Nature_
+
+When I took up my abode in the woods I found myself suddenly neighbour
+to the birds, not by having imprisoned one, but having caged myself
+near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly
+frequent the garden and orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling
+songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager.
+
+Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal
+simplicity, and I may say, innocence, with Nature herself. I have been
+as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks. Morning brings back
+the heroic ages. Then, for an hour at least, some part of us awakes
+which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.
+
+Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? As for work, we
+haven't any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus' dance, and
+cannot possibly keep our heads still. Hardly a man takes a half hour's
+nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks:
+"What's the news?" as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels.
+"Pray tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on this
+globe." And he reads over his coffee and rolls that a man has had his
+eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River, never dreaming the
+while that he lives in the dark, unfathomed mammoth cave of this world,
+and has but the rudiment of an eye himself.
+
+Let us spend our day as deliberately as Nature. Let us rise early and
+fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation. Let us not be
+upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a
+dinner situated in the meridian shadows.
+
+Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I
+drink I see the sandy bottom, and detect how shallow it is. Its thin
+current glides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper, fish
+in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.
+
+
+_Reading_
+
+My residence was more favourable, not only to thought but to serious
+reading, than a university; and though I was beyond the range of the
+morning circulating library I had more than ever come within the
+influence of those books which circulate round the world. I kept
+Homer's "Iliad" on my table through the summer, though I looked at his
+pages only now and then. To read well--that is to read true books in
+a true spirit--is a noble exercise and one that will task the reader
+more than any exercise which the customs of the day esteem. Books must
+be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written. No wonder
+that Alexander carried the "Iliad" with him on his expeditions in a
+precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics.
+
+
+_In the Sun_
+
+I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans. Nay, I often did
+better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice
+the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or
+hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes on a summer morning,
+having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise
+till noon, rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and
+sumachs in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang
+around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling
+in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's waggon on the
+distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those
+seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work
+of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my
+life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realised what
+the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. Instead
+of singing like the birds I silently smiled at my incessant good
+fortune. This was sheer idleness to my fellow townsmen, no doubt, but
+if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard I should not
+have been found wanting.
+
+
+_Night Sounds_
+
+Regularly at half past seven, in one part of the summer, the
+whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on
+a stump by my door, or upon the ridge pole of the house. When other
+birds were still the screech owls took up the strain, like mourning
+women their ancient u-lu-lu. Wise midnight hags! I love to hear their
+wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the woodside. They give
+me a new sense of the variety and capacity of that nature which is our
+common dwelling. _Oh-o-o-o-o that I had never been bor-r-r-r-n_! sighs
+one on this side of the pond, and circles, with the restlessness of
+despair to some new perch on the gray oaks. Then: _That I had never
+been bor-r-r-r-n_! echoes another on the further side with tremulous
+sincerity, and _bor-r-r-r-n_! comes faintly from far in the Lincoln
+woods. I require that there are owls. They represent the stark twilight
+and unsatisfied thoughts which all have.
+
+I am not sure that ever I heard the sound of cock crowing from my
+clearing, and I thought that it might be worth the while to keep a
+cockerel for his music merely, as a singing bird. The note of this once
+wild Indian pheasant is certainly the most remarkable of any bird's,
+and if they could be naturalised without being domesticated it would
+soon become the most famous sound in our woods.
+
+I kept neither dog, cat, cow, pig, nor hens, so that you would have
+said there was a deficiency of domestic sounds, neither the churn nor
+the spinning wheel, nor even the singing of the kettle, nor the hissing
+of the urn, nor children crying, to comfort me; only squirrels on the
+roof, a whip-poor-will on the ridge pole, a bluejay screaming beneath
+the window, a woodchuck under the house, a laughing loon on the pond,
+and a fox to bark in the night.
+
+This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense and
+imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange
+liberty in Nature, a part of herself. Sympathy with the fluttering
+alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the
+lake, my serenity is rippled, but not ruffled. Though it is now dark
+the wind still blows and roars in the woods, the waves still dash, and
+some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never
+complete. The wildest animals do not repose but seek their prey now.
+They are Nature's watchmen--links which connect the days of animated
+life.
+
+I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. I never
+found the companion that was never so companionable as solitude. A man
+thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. I am
+no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud. God is
+alone, but the devil, he is far from being alone; he sees a great deal
+of company; he is legion. I am no more lonely than a single dandelion
+in a pasture, or a humble bee, or the North Star, or the first spider
+in a new house.
+
+
+_Visitors_
+
+In my house I have three chairs: one for solitude, two for friendship,
+three for society. My best room, however--my withdrawing room--always
+ready for company, was the pine wood behind my house. Thither in Summer
+days, when distinguished guests came, I took them, and a priceless
+domestic swept the floor and kept the things in order.
+
+I could not but notice some of the peculiarities of my visitors. Girls
+and boys, and young women generally, seemed glad to be in the woods.
+They looked in the pond and at the flowers, and improved their time.
+Men of business, even farmers, thought only of solitude and employment,
+and of the great distance at which I dwelt from something or other; and
+though they said that they loved a ramble in the woods occasionally, it
+was obvious that they did not. Restless, committed men, whose time was
+all taken up in getting a living, or keeping it, ministers, who spoke
+of God as if they enjoyed a monopoly of the subject, and who could not
+bear all kinds of opinions, doctors, lawyers, and uneasy housekeepers,
+who pried into my cupboard and bed when I was out, young men who had
+ceased to be young, and had concluded that it was safest to follow the
+beaten track of the professions--all these generally said that it was
+not possible to do as much good in my position.
+
+
+_Interference_
+
+After hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing in the forenoon, I usually
+bathed again in the pond, washed the dust of labour from my person,
+and for the afternoon was absolutely free. Every day or two I strolled
+to the village. As I walked in the woods to see the birds and the
+squirrels, so I walked in the village to see the men and the boys.
+Instead of the wind among the pines I heard the carts rattle.
+
+One afternoon near the end of the first summer, when I went to the
+village to get a shoe from the cobbler's, I was seized and put into
+jail, because I did not pay a tax to, or recognise the authority
+of, the State. I had gone down to the woods for other purposes. But
+wherever a man goes men will pursue and paw him with their dirty
+institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their
+desperate Odd Fellows society. However, I was released the next day,
+obtained my mended shoe, and returned to the woods in season to get my
+dinner of huckleberries on Fair Haven Hill. I was never molested by
+any person but those who represented the State. I had no lock nor bolt
+but for the desk which held my papers, not even a nail to put over my
+latch or window. I never fastened my door night or day, and though I
+was absent several days my house was more respected than if it had been
+surrounded by a file of soldiers.
+
+
+_Exhausted Experience_
+
+I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it
+seemed to me that I had several more lives to live and could not spare
+any more time for that one. It is remarkable how easily and insensibly
+we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.
+I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door
+to the pond side, and though it is five or six years since I trod it,
+it is still quite distinct. So with the paths which the mind travels.
+How worn and dusty then must be the highways of the world--how deep
+the ruts of tradition and conformity. I learned this, at least by my
+experiment, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his
+dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will
+meet with a success unexpected in common hours. In proportion as he
+simplifies his life the laws of the Universe will appear less complex,
+and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness
+weakness.
+
+
+
+
+ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE
+
+Democracy in America
+
+  Alexis de Tocqueville (see Vol. XII, p. 117), being commissioned
+  at the age of twenty-six to investigate and report on American
+  prisons, made use of his residence in the United States to
+  gain a thorough insight into the political institutions and
+  social conditions of the great Republic. The results of his
+  observations and reflections were given to the world in 1835,
+  in the two famous volumes _De la D�mocratie en Am�rique_, which
+  were followed in 1840 by a third and fourth volume under the
+  same title. As an analysis of American political institutions De
+  Tocqueville's work has been superseded by Mr. Bryce's admirable
+  study of the same subject; but as one of the great classics of
+  political philosophy it can never be superseded, and has rarely
+  been rivalled. With all a Frenchman's simplicity and lucidity
+  he traces the manifold results of the democratic spirit; though
+  sometimes an excessive ingenuity, which is also French, leads
+  him to over-speculative conclusions. The work was received with
+  universal applause.
+
+
+_I.--Equality_
+
+The most striking impression which I received during my residence in
+the United States was that of the equality which reigns there. This
+equality gives a peculiar character to public opinion and to the
+laws of that country, and influences the entire structure of society
+in the most profound degree. Realising that equality, or democracy,
+was rapidly advancing in the Old World also, I determined to make a
+thorough study of democratic principles and of their consequences, as
+they are revealed in the western continent.
+
+We have only to review the history of European countries from the
+days of feudalism, to understand that the development of equality is
+one of the great designs of Providence; inasmuch as it is universal,
+inevitable, and lasting, and that every event and every individual
+contributes to its advancement.
+
+It is impossible to believe that a social movement which has proceeded
+so far as this movement towards equality has done, can be arrested
+by human efforts, or that the democracy which has bearded kings and
+barons can be successfully resisted by a wealthy bourgeoisie. We know
+not whither we are moving; we only know that greater equality is found
+to-day among Christian populations than has been known before in any
+age or in any country.
+
+I confess to a kind of religious terror in the presence of this
+irresistible revolution, which has defied every obstacle for the
+last ten centuries. A new political science is awaited by a world
+which is wholly new; but the most immediate duties of the statesman
+are to instruct the democracy, if possible to revive its beliefs, to
+purify its morals, to enlighten its inexperience by some knowledge of
+political principles, and to substitute for the blind instincts which
+sway it, the consciousness of its true interests.
+
+In the Old World, and in France especially, the more powerful,
+intelligent, and moralised classes have held themselves apart from
+democracy, and the latter has, therefore, been abandoned to its own
+savage instincts. The democratic revolution has permeated the whole
+substance of society, without those concomitant changes in laws, ideas,
+habits, and manners which ought to have embodied and clothed it. So
+it is that we indeed have democracy, but without those features which
+should have mitigated its vices and liberated its advantages. The
+prestige of royal power is gone, without being replaced by the majesty
+of law, and our people despise authority as much as they fear it. Our
+poor have the prejudices of their fathers without their beliefs, their
+ignorance, without their virtues; they have taken self-interest for
+a principle without knowing what their interests are. Our society is
+tranquil, not in the consciousness of strength and of well-being,
+but a sense of decrepitude and despair. That is why I have studied
+America, in order that we may ourselves profit by her example. I have
+no intention of writing a panegyric on the United States. I have seen
+more in America than America herself; I have sought a revelation of
+Democracy, with all its characters and tendencies, its prejudices and
+its passions.
+
+
+_II.--Religion and Liberty_
+
+Our first consideration is of great importance, and must never be
+lost sight of. The Anglo-American civilisation which we find in the
+United States is the product of two perfectly distinct elements, which
+elsewhere are often at war with one another, but have here been merged
+and combined in the most wonderful way; I mean the spirit of religion
+and the spirit of liberty. The founders of New England were at the same
+time ardent secretaries and enthusiastic radicals; they were bound
+by the narrowest religious beliefs, but were free from all political
+prejudice.
+
+Thus arose two tendencies which we may trace everywhere in American
+manners, as well as in their lives. All political principles, laws,
+and human institutions seem to have become plastic in the hands of the
+early colonists. The bonds which fettered the society in which they had
+been born fell from their limbs; ancient opinions which had dominated
+the world for ages simply disappeared; a new career opened for the
+human race; a world without horizons was before them, and they exulted
+in liberty. But outside the limits of the political world, they made no
+ventures of this kind. They abjured doubt, renounced their desire for
+innovation, left untouched the veil of the sanctuary, and knelt with
+awe before the truths of religion.
+
+So, in their world of morals, everything was already classed,
+arranged, foreseen, and determined; but in their world of politics,
+everything was agitated, debated, and uncertain. In the former they
+were ruled by a voluntary obedience, but in all political affairs they
+were inspired by independence, contempt for experience, and jealous of
+every authority.
+
+Far from impeding one another, these two tendencies, which appear so
+radically opposed, actually harmonise and seem even to support each
+other. Religion sees in civil liberty a noble field for the exercise
+of human faculties. Free and powerful in her own sphere, and satisfied
+with the part reserved for her, she knows that her sovereignty is all
+the more securely established when she depends only on her own strength
+and is founded in the hearts of men. And liberty, on the other hand,
+recognises in religion the comrade of its struggles and triumphs,
+the cradle of its rights. It knows that religion is the safeguard of
+morals, and that morals are the safeguard of the laws, and the judge of
+the continuance of liberty itself.
+
+
+_III.--Omnipotence of the Majority_
+
+The greatest danger to liberty in America lies in the omnipotence of
+the majority. A democratic power is never likely to perish for lack
+of strength or of resources, but it may very well fall because of
+the misdirection of its strength and the abuse of its resources. If
+ever liberty is lost in America, it will be due to an oppression of
+minorities which may drive them to an appeal to arms. The anarchy which
+must then result will be due only to despotism.
+
+This danger has not escaped the notice of American statesmen. Thus,
+President James Madison said, "It is of great importance to republics,
+not only that society should be defended from the oppression of
+those who govern it, but also that one section of society should be
+protected against the injustice of another section; for justice is the
+end towards which all government must be directed." Again, Jefferson
+said that "The tyranny of legislators is at present, and will be for
+many years, our most formidable danger. The tyranny of the executive
+will arise in its turn, but at a more distant period." Jefferson's
+words are of great importance, for I consider him to have been the most
+powerful apostle that democracy has ever had.
+
+But there are certain factors in the United States which moderate
+this tyranny of the majority. Chief among these is the absence of any
+administrative centralisation; so that the majority, which has often
+the tastes and instincts of a despot, lacks the instruments and the
+means of tyranny. The local administrative bodies constitute so many
+reefs and breakwaters to retard or divide the stream of the popular
+will.
+
+Not less important, as a counterpoise to the danger of democracy, is
+the strong legal spirit which pervades the United States. Lawyers have
+great influence and authority in matters of government. But lawyers
+are strongly imbued with the tasks and habits of mind which are most
+characteristic of aristocracy; they have an instinctive liking for
+forms and for order, a native distaste for the will of the multitude,
+and a secret contempt for popular government. Of course, their own
+personal interest may and often does over-ride this professional
+bias. But lawyers will always be, on the whole, friends of order and
+of precedent, and enemies of change. And in America, where there are
+neither nobles nor able political writers, and where the people are
+suspicious of the wealthy, the lawyers do, in fact, form the most
+powerful order in politics, and the most intellectual class of society.
+They therefore stand to lose by any innovation, and their conservative
+tendency is reinforced by their interests as a class.
+
+A third safeguard against the tyranny of the majority is to be found
+in the institution of a jury. Almost everyone is called at one time
+or another to sit on a jury, and thus learns at least something of
+the judicial spirit. The civil jury has saved English freedom in past
+times, and may be expected to maintain American liberties also. It is
+true that there are many cases, and those often the most important,
+in which the American judge pronounces sentence without a jury. Under
+those circumstances, his position is similar to that of a French judge,
+but his moral power is far greater; for the memory and the influence of
+juries are all about him, and he speaks with the authority of one who
+habitually rests upon the jury system. In no other countries are the
+judges so powerful as in those where the people are called in to share
+judicial privileges and responsibilities.
+
+
+_IV.--Equality of Men and Women_
+
+Inasmuch as democracy destroys or modifies the various inequalities
+which social traditions have made, it is natural to ask whether it has
+had any effect on that great inequality between men and women which
+is elsewhere so conspicuous. We are driven to the conclusion that the
+social movement which places son and father, servant and master, and in
+general, the inferior and superior, more nearly on the same level, must
+raise woman more and more to an equality with man.
+
+Let us guard, however, against misconceptions. There are people in
+Europe who confuse the natural qualities of the two sexes, and desire
+that men and women should be, not only equal, but also similar to one
+another. That would give them both the same functions, the same duties
+and the same rights, and would have them mingle in everything, in work,
+in pleasures, and in business. But the attempt to secure this kind
+of equality between the two sexes, only degrades them both, and must
+result in unmanly men, and unwomanly women.
+
+The Americans have not thus mistaken the kind of democratic equality
+which ought to hold between man and woman. They know that progress does
+not consist in forcing these dissimilar temperaments and faculties
+into the same mould, but in securing that each shall fulfil his or her
+task in the best possible way. They have most carefully separated the
+functions of man and woman, in order that the great work of social life
+may be most prosperously carried on.
+
+In America, far more than elsewhere, the lines of action of the two
+sexes have been clearly divided. You do not find American women
+directing the external affairs of the family, or entering into business
+or into politics; but neither do you find them obliged to undertake
+the rough labours of the field, or any other work requiring physical
+strength. There are no families so poor as to form an exception to this
+rule.
+
+So it is that American women often unite a masculine intelligence and
+a virile energy with an appearance of great refinement and altogether
+womanly manners.
+
+One has often noticed in Europe a certain tinge of contempt even in
+the flatteries which men lavish on women; and although the European
+often makes himself a slave of a woman, it is easy to see that he never
+really regards her as his equal. But in the United States men rarely
+praise women, though they show their esteem for them every day.
+
+Americans show, in fact, a full confidence in woman's reason, and a
+profound respect for her liberty. They realise that her mind is just as
+capable as that of man to discover truth, and that her heart is just as
+courageous in following it; and they have never tried to shelter or to
+guide her by means of prejudice, ignorance, or fear.
+
+For my part I do not hesitate to say that the singular prosperity and
+the evergrowing power of the American people is due to the superiority
+of American women.
+
+
+_V.--The Perfectibility of Man_
+
+Equality suggests many ideas which would never have arisen without
+it, and among others the notion that humanity can reach perfection--a
+theory which has practical consequences of great interest.
+
+In countries where the population is classed according to rank,
+profession, and birth, and everyone has to follow the career to which
+he happens to be born, each is conscious of limits to his power,
+and does not attempt to struggle against an inevitable destiny.
+Aristocratic peoples do not deny that man may be improved, but they
+think of this as an amelioration of the individual, and not as a change
+in social circumstances, and while they admit that humanity has made
+great progress, they believe in certain limits which it cannot pass.
+They do not think, for instance, that we shall arrive at sovereign good
+or at absolute truth.
+
+But in proportion as caste and class-distinction disappear, the
+vision of an ideal perfection arises before the human mind. Continual
+changes are ever taking place, some of them to his disadvantage, but
+the majority to his advantage, and the democrat concludes that man
+in general is capable of arriving at perfection. His reverses teach
+him that no one has yet discovered absolute good, and his frequent
+successes excite him to pursue it. Always seeking, falling, and rising
+again, often deceived, but never discouraged, he hastens towards an
+immense grandeur which he dimly conceives as the goal of humanity. This
+theory of perfectibility exercises prodigious influence even on those
+who have never thought of it. For instance, I ask an American sailor
+why the ships of his country are built to last only a few years; and
+he tells me without hesitation that the art of shipbuilding makes such
+rapid progress every day, that the finest ship constructed to-day must
+be useless after a very short time. From these words, spoken at random
+by an uneducated man, I can perceive the general and systematic idea
+which guides this great people in every matter.
+
+
+_VI.--American Vanity_
+
+All free people are proud of themselves, but national pride takes
+different forms. The Americans, in their relations with strangers, are
+impatient of the least criticism, and absolutely insatiable for praise.
+The slightest congratulation pleases them, but the most extravagant
+eulogium is not enough to satisfy them; they are all the time touting
+for your praise, and if you are slow to give it they begin praising
+themselves. It is as if they were doubtful of their own merit. Their
+vanity is not only hungry, but anxious and envious. It gives nothing,
+and asks insistently. It is both supplicant and pugnacious. If I tell
+an American that his country is a fine one, he replies, "It is the
+finest in the world." If I admire the liberty which it enjoys, he
+answers, "There are few people worthy of such liberty." I remark on the
+purity of manners in the United States, and he says, "Yes, a stranger
+who knows the corruption of other nations must indeed be astonished at
+us." At length I leave him to the contemplation of his country and of
+himself, but he presently runs after me, and will not go away until
+I have repeated it all over again. It is a kind of patriotism that
+worries even those who honour it.
+
+The Englishman, on the contrary, tranquilly enjoys the real or
+imaginary advantages which his country affords. He cares nothing for
+the blame nor for the praise of strangers. His attitude towards the
+whole world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve. His pride seeks
+no nourishment; it lives on itself. It is very remarkable that the two
+people who have arisen from the same stock should differ so radically
+in their way of feeling and speaking.
+
+In aristocratic countries, great families possess enormous privileges,
+on which their pride rests. They consider these privileges as a natural
+right inherent in their person, and their feeling of superiority
+is therefore a peaceful one. They have no reason to boast of the
+prerogatives which everyone concedes to them without question. So, when
+public affairs are directed by an aristocracy, the national pride tends
+to take this reserved, haughty, and independent form.
+
+Under democratic conditions, on the contrary, the least advantage
+which anyone gains has great importance in his eyes; for everyone is
+surrounded by millions very nearly his equal. His pride therefore
+becomes anxious and insatiable; he founds it on miserable trifles and
+defends it obstinately. Again, most Americans have recently acquired
+the advantages which they possess, and therefore have inordinate
+pleasure in contemplating these advantages, and in showing them to
+others; and as these advantages may escape at any moment, they are
+always uneasy about them, and look at them again and again to see that
+they still have them. Men who live in democracies love their country
+as they love themselves, and model their national vanity upon their
+private vanity. The close dependence of this anxious and insatiable
+vanity of democratic peoples upon the equality and fragility of their
+conditions is seen from the fact that the members of the proudest
+nobility show exactly the same passionate jealousy for the most
+trifling circumstances of their life when these become unstable or are
+contested.
+
+
+
+
+IZAAK WALTON
+
+The Compleat Angler
+
+  Izaak Walton, English author and angler, was born at Stafford
+  on August 9, 1593, and until about his fiftieth year lived as a
+  linen-draper in London. He then retired from business and lived
+  at Stafford for a few years; but returned to London in 1650, and
+  spent his closing years at Winchester, where he died on December
+  15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral there. Walton was
+  thrice married, his second wife being sister of the future Bishop
+  Ken. He had a large acquaintance with eminent clergymen, and
+  among his literary friends were Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton.
+  He was author of several charming biographies, including those
+  of the poet Donne, 1640, of Sir Henry Wotton, 1651, of Richard
+  Hooker, 1652, and of George Herbert, 1670. But by far his most
+  famous work is "The Compleat Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's
+  Recreation," published in 1653. There were earlier books on the
+  subject in English, such as Dame Juliana Berner's "Treatise
+  pertaining to Hawking, Hunting, and Fishing with an Angle," 1486;
+  the "Book of Fishing with Hook and Line," 1590; a poem, "The
+  Secrets of Angling," by John Denny, 1613; and several others.
+  The new thing in Walton's book, and the secret of its unfading
+  popularity, is the charm of temperament. Charles Lamb well said
+  that it "breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and
+  simplicity of heart." A sequel to the book, entitled the "Second
+  Part of the Compleat Angler," was written by Charles Cotton, and
+  published in 1676.
+
+
+_The Virtues of Angling_
+
+PISCATOR, VENATOR, AND AUCEPS
+
+_Piscator._ You are well overtaken, gentlemen! A good morning to you
+both! I have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake you,
+hoping your business may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going
+this fine fresh May morning.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your hopes, for my
+purpose is to drink my morning's draught at the Thatched House. And,
+sir, as we are all so happy to have a fine morning, I hope we shall
+each be the happier in each other's company.
+
+_Auceps._ Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company as far as
+Theobald's, for then I turn up to a friend's house, who mews a hawk for
+me. And as the Italians say, good company in a journey maketh the way
+to seem the shorter, I, for my part, promise you that I shall be as
+free and open-hearted as discretion will allow with strangers.
+
+_Piscator._ I am right glad to hear your answers. I shall put on a
+boldness to ask you, sir, whether business or pleasure caused you to be
+up so early, for this other gentleman hath declared he is going to see
+a hawk that a friend mews for him.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, I intend to go hunting the otter.
+
+_Piscator._ Those villainous vermin, for I hate them perfectly, because
+they love fish so well, or rather destroy so much. For I, sir, am a
+brother of the angle.
+
+_Auceps._ And I profess myself a falconer, and have heard many
+grave, serious men scoff at anglers and pity them, as it is a heavy,
+contemptible, dull recreation.
+
+_Piscator._ You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at any
+art or recreation; a little wit mixed with all nature, confidence, and
+malice will do it; but though they often venture boldly, yet they are
+often caught, even in their own trap.
+
+There be many men that are by others taken to be serious, and grave
+men, which we contemn and pity: men that are taken to be grave because
+nature hath made them of a sour complexion--money-getting men, men that
+are condemned to be rich; for these poor, rich men, we anglers pity
+them most perfectly. No, sir! We enjoy a contentedness above the reach
+of such dispositions.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you have almost amazed me; for though I am no scoffer,
+yet I have--I pray let me speak it without offence--always looked upon
+anglers as more patient and simple men than, I fear, I shall find you
+to be.
+
+_Piscator._ Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be
+impatience! As for my simplicity, if by that you mean a harmlessness
+which was usually found in the primitive Christians, who were, as most
+anglers are, followers of peace--then myself and men of my profession
+will be glad to be so understood. But if, by simplicity, you mean to
+express a general defect, I hope in time to disabuse you.
+
+But, gentlemen, I am not so unmannerly as to engross all the discourse
+to myself; I shall be most glad to hear what you can say in the
+commendation of your several recreations.
+
+_Auceps._ The element I use to trade in, the air, is an element of more
+worth than weight; an element that doubtless exceeds both the earth and
+water; in it my noble falcon ascends to such a height as the dull eye
+of man is not able to reach to; my troop of hawks soars up on high, so
+that they converse with the gods.
+
+And more, the worth of this element of air is such that all creatures
+whatsoever stand in need of it. The waters cannot preserve their fish
+without air; witness the not breaking of ice and the result thereof.
+
+_Venator._ Well, sir, I will now take my turn. The earth, that solid,
+settled element, is the one on which I drive my pleasant, wholesome,
+hungry trade. What pleasure doth man take in hunting the stately stag,
+the cunning otter! The earth breeds and nourishes the mighty elephant,
+and also the least of creatures! It puts limits to the proud and raging
+seas, and so preserves both man and beast; daily we see those that are
+shipwrecked and left to feed haddocks; but, Mr. Piscator, I will not be
+so uncivil as not to allow you time for the commendation of angling; I
+doubt we shall hear a watery discourse--and I hope not a long one.
+
+_Piscator._ Gentlemen, my discourse is likely to prove suitable to my
+recreation--calm and quiet.
+
+Water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon which
+the spirit of God did first move. There be those that profess to
+believe that all bodies are water, and may be reduced back into water
+only.
+
+The water is more productive than the earth. The increase of creatures
+that are bred in the water is not only more miraculous, but more
+advantageous to man for the preventing of sickness. It is observed that
+the casting of Lent and other fish days hath doubtless been the cause
+of these many putrid, shaking agues, to which this country of ours is
+now more subject.
+
+To pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths the Romans have made
+fish the mistress of all their entertainments; and have had music to
+usher in their sturgeons, lampreys, and mullets.
+
+_Auceps._ Sir, it is with such sadness that I must part with you here,
+for I see Theobald's house. And so I part full of good thoughts. God
+keep you both.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you said angling was of great antiquity, and a perfect
+art, not easily attained to. I am desirous to hear further concerning
+those particulars.
+
+_Piscator._ Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly?
+A trout! more sharp-sighted than any hawk! Doubt not, angling is an art
+worth your learning. The question is rather, whether you be capable
+of learning it? Angling is like poetry--men are to be born so. Some
+say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood, and Moses makes mention of
+fish-hooks, which must imply anglers.
+
+But as I would rather prove myself a gentleman by being learned, and
+humble, valiant, and inoffensive, virtuous, and communicable, than by
+any fond ostentation of riches, or, wanting those virtues, boast these
+were in my ancestors, so if this antiquity of angling shall be an
+honour to this art, I shall be glad I made mention of it.
+
+I shall tell you that in ancient times a debate hath arisen, whether
+the happiness of man doth consist more in contemplation or action?
+
+Some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of the first by saying
+that the nearer we mortals approach to God by way of imitation,
+the more happy we are. And they say God enjoys Himself only by a
+contemplation of His own infiniteness, eternity, power, goodness and
+the like.
+
+On the contrary, there want not men of equal authority that prefer
+action to be the more excellent, such as experiments in physics for the
+ease and prolongation of man's life. Concerning which two opinions I
+shall forbear to add a third, and tell you, my worthy friend, that both
+these meet together and do most properly belong to the most honest,
+quiet, and harmless art of angling.
+
+An ingenious Spaniard says that "rivers and the inhabitants thereof
+were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without
+consideration."
+
+There be many wonders reported of rivers, as of a river in Epirus, that
+puts out any lighted torch, and kindles any torch that was not lighted;
+the river Selarus, that in a few hours turns a rod to stone, and
+mention is made of the like in England, and many others on historical
+faith.
+
+But to tell you something of the monsters, or fish, call them what you
+will, Pliny says the fish called the Bal�na is so long and so broad as
+to take up more length and breadth than two acres of ground; and in the
+river Ganges there be eels thirty feet long.
+
+I know we islanders are averse to the belief of these wonders, but
+there are many strange creatures to be now seen. Did not the Prophet
+David say, "They that occupy themselves in deep water see the wonderful
+works of God"; and the apostles of our Saviour, were not they four
+simple fishermen; He found that the hearts of such men, by nature,
+were fitted for contemplation and quietness--men of sweet and peaceable
+spirits, as indeed most anglers are.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the
+Thatched House, for I thought we had three miles of it. Let us drink a
+civil cup to all lovers of angling, of which number I am now willing
+to count myself, and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the time and
+place appointed, we two will do nothing but talk of fish and fishing.
+
+_Piscator._ 'Tis a match, sir; I will not fail you, God willing, to be
+at Amwell Hill to-morrow before sun-rising.
+
+
+_Master and Pupil_
+
+_Piscator._ Sir, I am right glad to meet you. Come, honest Venator, let
+us be gone; I long to be doing.
+
+_Venator._ Well, let's to your sport of angling.
+
+_Piscator._ With all my heart. But we are not yet come to a likely
+place. Let us walk on. But let us first to an honest alehouse, where my
+hostess can give us a cup of her best drink.
+
+Seneca says that the ancients were so curious in the newness of their
+fish, that they usually did keep them living in glass-bottles in their
+dining-rooms, and did glory much in the entertaining of their friends,
+to have the fish taken from under their tables alive that was instantly
+to be fed upon. Our hostess shall dress us a trout, that we shall
+presently catch, and we, with brother Peter and Goridon, will sup on
+him here this same evening.
+
+_Venator._ And now to our sport.
+
+_Piscator._ This is not a likely place for a trout; the sun is too
+high. But there lie upon the top of the water twenty Chub. Sir, here is
+a trial of my skill! I'll catch only one, and he shall be the big one,
+that has some bruise upon his tail.
+
+_Venator._ I'll sit down and hope well; because you seem so confident.
+
+_Piscator._ Look you, sir! The very one! Oh, 'tis a great logger-headed
+Chub! I'll warrant he will make a good dish of meat.
+
+Under that broad beech tree yonder, I sat down when I was last
+a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a
+friendly contention with the echo that lives in a hollow near the brow
+of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver stream slide
+away, and the lambs sporting harmlessly. And as I sat, these sights so
+possessed my soul, that I thought as the poet hath it:
+
+   "I was for that time lifted above earth;
+    And possess'd joys not promised at my birth."
+
+But, let us further on; and we will try for a Trout. 'Tis now past five
+of the clock.
+
+_Venator._ I have a bite! Oh me! He has broke all; and a good hook
+lost! But I have no fortune! Sure yours is a better rod and tackling.
+
+_Piscator._ Nay, then, take mine, and I will fish with yours. Look you,
+scholar, I have another. I pray, put that net under him, but touch not
+my line. Well done, scholar, I thank you.
+
+And now, having three brace of Trouts, I will tell you a tale as we
+walk back to our hostess.
+
+A preacher that was to procure the approbation of a parish got from
+a fellow preacher the copy of a sermon that was preached with great
+commendation by him that composed it; and though the borrower preached
+it, word for word, yet it was utterly disliked; and on complaining to
+the lender of it, was thus answered: "I lent you indeed my fiddle, but
+not my fiddlestick; for you are to know, everyone cannot make music
+with my words, which are fitted for my own mouth." And though I lend
+you my very rod and tacklings, yet you have not my fiddlestick, that
+is, the skill wherewith I guide it.
+
+_Venator._ Master, you spoke very true. Yonder comes mine hostess to
+call us to supper; and when we have supped we will sing songs which
+shall give some addition of mirth to the company.
+
+_Piscator._ And so say I; for to-morrow we meet again up the water
+towards Waltham.
+
+
+_Fish of English Streams_
+
+_Piscator._ Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, as Dr.
+Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless God could have made a better
+berry, but doubtless God never did"; and so, God never did make a more
+calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
+
+And when I see how pleasantly that meadow looks; and the earth smells
+so sweetly too; I think of them as Charles the Emperor did of the City
+of Florence; "that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but on
+holidays."
+
+To speak of fishes; the Salmon is accounted the king of fresh-water
+fish. He breeds in the rivers in the month of August, and then hastes
+to the sea before winter; where he recovers his strength and comes the
+next summer to the same river; for like persons of riches, he has his
+summer and winter house, to spend his life in, which is, as Sir Francis
+Bacon hath observed, not above ten years.
+
+The Pike, the tyrant of the fresh-waters, is said to be the
+longest-lived of any fresh-water fish, but not usually above forty
+years. Gesner relates of a man watering his mule in a pond, where the
+Pike had devoured all the fish, had the Pike bite his mule's lips; to
+which he hung so fast, the mule did draw him out of the water. And
+this same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland washing clothes in
+a pond, had a Pike bite her by the foot. I have told you who relate
+these things; and shall conclude by telling you, what a wise-man hath
+observed: "It is a hard thing to persuade the belly, because it has no
+ears."
+
+Besides being an eater of great voracity, the Pike is observed to be a
+solitary, melancholy and a bold fish. When he is dressed with a goodly,
+rich sauce, and oysters, this dish of meat is too good for any man, but
+an angler, or a very honest man.
+
+The Carp, that hath only lately been naturalised in England, is said to
+be the queen of rivers, and will grow to a very great bigness; I have
+heard, much above a yard long.
+
+The stately Bream, and the Tench, that physician of fishes, love best
+to live in ponds. In every Tench's head are two little stones which
+physicians make great use of. Rondeletius says, at his being in Rome,
+he saw a great cure done by applying a Tench to the feet of a sick man.
+
+But I will not meddle more with that; there are too many meddlers in
+physic and divinity that think fit to meddle with hidden secrets and so
+bring destruction to their followers.
+
+The Perch is a bold, biting fish, and carries his teeth in his mouth;
+and to affright the Pike and save himself he will set up his fins, like
+as a turkey-cock will set up his tail. If there be twenty or forty in
+a hole, they may be catched one after the other, at one standing; they
+being, like the wicked of this world, not afraid, though their fellows
+and companions perish in their sight.
+
+And now I think best to rest myself, for I have almost spent my spirits
+with talking.
+
+_Venator._ Nay, good master, one fish more! For it rains yet; you know
+our angles are like money put to usury; they may thrive, though we sit
+still. Come, the other fish, good master!
+
+_Piscator._ But shall I nothing from you, that seem to have both a good
+memory and a cheerful spirit?
+
+_Venator._ Yes, master; I will speak you a copy of verses that allude
+to rivers and fishing:
+
+    Come, live with me, and be my love,
+    And we will some new pleasures prove;
+    Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
+    With silken lines, and silver hooks.
+
+    When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
+    Each fish, which every channel hath,
+    Most amorously to thee will swim,
+    Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
+
+    Let others freeze with angling reeds,
+    And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
+    Or treacherously poor fish beget
+    With trangling snare or windowy net;
+
+    For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
+    For thou, thyself, art thine own bait,
+    That fish, that is not catched thereby
+    Is wiser far, alas, than I!
+
+_Piscator._ I thank you for these choice verses. And I will now tell
+you of the Eel, which is a most dainty fish. The Romans have esteemed
+her the Helena of their feasts. Sir Francis Bacon will allow the Eel to
+live but ten years; but he mentions a Lamprey, belonging to the Roman
+Emperor, that was made tame and kept for three-score years; so that
+when she died, Crassus, the orator, lamented her death.
+
+I will tell you next how to make the Eel a most excellent dish of meat.
+
+First, wash him in water and salt, then pull off his skin and clean
+him; then give him three or four scotches with a knife; and then put
+into him sweet herbs, an anchovy and a little nutmeg. Then pull his
+skin over him, and tie him with pack-thread; and baste him with butter,
+and what he drips, be his sauce. And when I dress an Eel thus, I wish
+he were a yard and three-quarters long. But they are not so proper to
+be talked of by me because they make us anglers no sport.
+
+The Barbel, so called by reason of his barb or wattles, and the
+Gudgeon, are both fine fish of excellent shape.
+
+My further purpose was to give you directions concerning Roach and
+Dace, but I will forbear. I see yonder, brother Peter. But I promise
+you, to-morrow as we walk towards London, if I have forgotten anything
+now I will not then keep it from you.
+
+_Venator._ Come, we will all join together and drink a cup to our
+jovial host, and so to bed. I say good-night to everybody.
+
+_Piscator._ And so say I.
+
+
+_Walking Homewards_
+
+_Piscator._ I will tell you, my honest scholar, I once heard one say,
+"I envy not him that eats better meat, or wears better clothes than I
+do; I envy him only that catches more fish than I do."
+
+And there be other little fish that I had almost forgot, such as the
+Minnow or Penk; the dainty Loach; the Miller's-Thumb, of no pleasing
+shape; the Stickle-bag, good only to make sport for boys and women
+anglers.
+
+Well, scholar, I could tell you many things of the rivers of this
+nation, the chief of which is the Thamisis; of fish-ponds, and how to
+breed fish within them, and how to order your lines and baits for the
+several fishes; but, I will tell you some of the thoughts that have
+possessed my soul since we met together. And you shall join with me
+in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for our
+happiness; which may appear the greater when we consider how many, even
+at this very time, lie under the torment, and the stone, the gout, and
+tooth-ache; and all these we are free from.
+
+Since we met, others have met disasters, some have been blasted, and
+we have been free from these. What is a far greater mercy, we are free
+from the insupportable burden of an accusing conscience.
+
+Let me tell you, there be many that have forty times our estates, that
+would give the greatest part of it to be healthful and cheerful like
+us; who have eat, and drank, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and
+slept; and rose next day, and cast away care, and sung, and laughed,
+and angled again.
+
+I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy that he has no leisure
+to laugh. He says that Solomon says, "The diligent man makest
+rich"; but, he considers not what was wisely said by a man of great
+observation, "That there be as many miseries beyond riches, as on this
+side them."
+
+Let me tell you, scholar, Diogenes walked one day through a country
+fair, where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and
+fiddles, and many other gimcracks; and said to his friend, "Lord, how
+many things are there in this world Diogenes hath no need!"
+
+All this is told you to incline you to thankfulness: though the prophet
+David was guilty of murder and many other of the most deadly sins, yet
+he was said to be a man after God's own heart, because he abounded with
+thankfulness.
+
+Well, scholar, I have almost tired myself, and I fear, more than tired
+you.
+
+But, I now see Tottenham High Cross, which puts a period to our too
+long discourse, in which my meaning was to plant that in your mind with
+which I labour to possess my own soul--that is, a meek and thankful
+heart. And, to that end, I have showed you that riches without them do
+not make a man happy. But riches with them remove many fears and cares.
+Therefore, my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or
+contentedly poor; but be sure your riches be justly got; for it is well
+said by Caussin, "He that loses his conscience, has nothing left that
+is worth the keeping." So look to that. And in the next place, look to
+your health, for health is a blessing that money cannot buy. As for
+money, neglect it not, and, if you have a competence, enjoy it with a
+cheerful, thankful heart.
+
+_Venator._ Well, master, I thank you for all your good directions, and
+especially for this last, of thankfulness. And now being at Tottenham
+High Cross, I will requite a part of your courtesies with a drink
+composed of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which, all put together,
+make a drink like nectar indeed; and too good for anybody, but us
+anglers. So, here is a full glass to you.
+
+_Piscator._ And I to you, sir.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, your company and discourse have been so pleasant that I
+truly say, that I have only lived since I enjoyed it an turned angler,
+and not before.
+
+I will not forget the doctrines Socrates taught his scholars, that they
+should not think to be honoured for being philosophers, so much as to
+honour philosophy by the virtue of their lives. You advised me to the
+like concerning angling, and to live like those same worthy men. And
+this is my firm resolution.
+
+And when I would beget content, I will walk the meadows, by some
+gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care.
+That is my purpose; and so, "let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be
+with mine."
+
+_Piscator._ And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and be quiet, and
+go a-angling.
+
+
+
+
+_Index_
+
+
+  In the following Index the Roman Numerals refer to the _Volumes_,
+  and the Arabic Numerals to _Pages_. The numerals in heavy, or
+  =black-faced= type, indicate the place where the _biographical_
+  notice will be found.
+
+  Abb� Constantine, The  V 38
+
+  AB�LARD AND H�LO�SE  =IX= 1
+
+  ABOUT, EDMOND  =I= 1
+
+  Adam Bede  IV 33
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH  =XVI= 1;  XX 1
+
+  Advancement of Learning, The  XIII 321
+
+  Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, The  II 41
+
+  Advice to Young Men  XX 78
+
+  �SCHYLUS  =XVI= 16 _seq._
+
+  �SOP  =XX= 10
+
+  Africa: see Vol. XIX
+
+  Agamemnon, The  XVI 16
+
+  Age of Reason, The  XIII 196
+
+  Aids to Reflection  XIII 84
+
+  AINSWORTH, HARRISON  =I= 17
+
+  Albert N'Yanza, The  XIX 1
+
+  Alcestis  XVI 336
+
+  Alice's Adventures in Wonderland  II 176
+
+  All for Love  XVI 322
+
+  Alton Locke  V 236
+
+  Ambrosio, or the Monk  VI 51
+
+  Amelia  IV 122
+
+  America, History of:
+    Mexico  XII 19;
+    Peru  XII 30;
+    United States  XII 1;
+    see also WASHINGTON, FRANKLIN, etc.
+
+  ----, Democracy in  XX 324
+
+  ----, Wanderings in South  XIX 313
+
+  Anabasis, The  XI 110
+
+  Anatomy of Melancholy, The  XX 41
+
+  ---- of Vertebrates  XV 280
+
+  ANDERSEN, HANS CHRISTIAN  =I= 30
+
+  Angler, The Complete  XX 334
+
+  Animal Chemistry  XV 203
+
+  Anna Karenina  VIII 205
+
+  Annals of the Parish  IV 204
+
+  ---- of Tacitus  XI 156
+
+  Antigone  XVIII 237
+
+  Antiquary, The  VII 241
+
+  Antiquities of the Jews  XI 43
+
+  APOCRYPHA, THE  =XIII= 1
+
+  Apologia Pro Vita Sua  XIII 185
+
+  Apology, or Defence of Socrates  XIV 75
+
+  APULEIUS  =I= 45
+
+  ARABIAN NIGHTS  =I= 61
+
+  Arcadia  VIII 54
+
+  Areopagitica  XX 257
+
+  ARIOSTO, LUDOVICO  =XVI= 51
+
+  ARISTOPHANES  =XVI= 64 _seq._
+
+  ARISTOTLE  =XIII= 291
+
+  Arne  I 274
+
+  ARNOLD, MATTHEW  =XX= 18
+
+  Arnold, Life of Thomas  X 260
+
+  Astronomy, Outlines of  XV 146
+
+  Atala  II 224
+
+  Atta Troll  XVII 50
+
+  AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE  =I= 79
+
+  AUERBACH, BERTHOLD  =I= 93
+
+  AUGUSTINE, SAINT  =IX= 24;  XIII 29
+
+  AURELIUS (MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS)  =XIII= 307
+
+  Aurora Leigh  XVI 144
+
+  AUSTEN, JANE  =I= 109 _seq._
+
+  Authority of Scripture, The  XIII 129
+
+  Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle  IX 91
+
+  Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini  IX 120
+
+  ---- of Benjamin Franklin  IX 247
+
+  ---- of Flavius Josephus  X 61
+
+  Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The  XX 181
+
+
+  BACON, FRANCIS  =XIII= 321
+
+  BAGEHOT, WALTER  =XII= 88
+
+  BAILEY, PHILIP JAMES  =XVI= 86
+
+  BAKER, SIR SAMUEL  =XIX= 1
+
+  BALZAC, HONOR� DE  =I= 188 _seq._
+
+  Barber of Seville, The  XVI 101
+
+  Barchester Towers  VIII 233
+
+  Barnaby Rudge  III 53
+
+  BAXTER, RICHARD  =XIII= 37
+
+  Beaconsfield, Earl of: see DISRAELI, BENJAMIN
+
+  BEAUMARCHAIS, P.A. CARON DE  =XVI= 101 _seq._
+
+  BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER  =XVI= 133
+
+  BECKFORD, WILLIAM  =I= 244
+
+  BEHN, APHRA  =I= 255
+
+  Belinda  IV 13
+
+  BELLAMY, EDWARD  =XIV= 173
+
+  BENTHAM, JEREMY  =XIV= 186
+
+  B�r�nice  XVIII 106
+
+  BERGERAC, CYRANO DE  =I= 265
+
+  BERKELEY, GEORGE  =XIII= 329
+
+  Bernard, Life of Saint  X 135
+
+  Betrothed, The  VI 169
+
+  Beyle, Henri: see STENDHAL
+
+  Bible in Spain, The  XIX 22
+
+  Biographia Literaria  IX 166
+
+  Biology, Principles of  XIV 133
+
+  Birds, The  XVI 64
+
+  BJ�RNSON, BJ�RNSTJERNE  =I= 274 _seq._
+
+  BLACK, WILLIAM  =I= 300
+
+  Black Prophet, The  II 164
+
+  ---- Tulip, The  III 281
+
+  BLACKMORE, R. D.  =I= 313
+
+  Bleak House  III 66
+
+  BLOCH, JEAN  =XIV= 199
+
+  Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A  XVI 154
+
+  BOCCACCIO, GIOVANNI  =I= 327
+
+  BOOK OF THE DEAD  =XIII= 47
+
+  BORROW, GEORGE  =II= 1 _seq._;  XIX 13 _seq._
+
+  BOSWELL, JAMES  =IX= 37;  XIX 37
+
+  Bothwell  IV 301
+
+  BRADDON, M. E.  =II= 27
+
+  BRADLEY, EDWARD ("Cuthbert Bede")  =II= 41
+
+  BRAHMANISM, BOOKS OF  =XIII= 59
+
+  BRAMWELL, JOHN MILNE  =XV= 1
+
+  BRANDES, GEORGE  =XX= 31
+
+  BREWSTER, SIR DAVIS  =IX= 66
+
+  BRONT�, CHARLOTTE  =II= 54 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 259
+
+  BRONT�, EMILY  =II= 97
+
+  BROWNE, SIR THOMAS  =XIII= 66
+
+  BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT  =XVI= 144
+
+  BROWNING, ROBERT  =XVI= 154 _seq._
+
+  BRUCE, JAMES  =XIX= 47
+
+  BUCHANAN, ROBERT  =II= 111
+
+  BUCKLE, HENRY  =XII= 76
+
+  BUFFON, COMTE DE  =XV= 12
+
+  BUNYAN, JOHN  =II= 124 _seq._;  =IX= 79
+
+  BURCKHARDT, JOHN LEWIS  =XIX= 57
+
+  BURKE, EDMUND  =XIV= 212
+
+  BURNEY, FANNY  =II= 150
+
+  Burns, Life of Robert  X 86
+
+  BURTON, ROBERT  =XX= 41
+
+  BURTON, SIR RICHARD  =XIX= 67
+
+  BUTLER, SAMUEL  =XVI= 177
+
+  BUTLER, SIR WILLIAM  =XIX=79 _seq._
+
+  BYRON, LORD  =XVI= 188 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  X 122
+
+
+  C�SAR, JULIUS  =XI= 144
+
+  CALDERON DE LA BARCA  =XVI= 206
+
+  Caleb Williams  IV 241
+
+  Caliph Vathek, History of  I 244
+
+  Called Back  II 274
+
+  CALVIN, JOHN  =XIII= 75
+
+  Canterbury Tales, The  XVI 226
+
+  Capital: A Critical Analysis  XIV 282
+
+  Captain's Daughter, The  VII 42
+
+  Captain Singleton  III 41
+
+  CARLETON, WILLIAM  =II= 164
+
+  CARLYLE, ALEXANDER  =IX= 91
+
+  CARLYLE, THOMAS  =IX= 99;  XII 147;  XII 188;  XX 50 _seq._
+
+  Carmen  VI 239
+
+  CARROLL, LEWIS  =II= 176
+
+  Castle of Otranto  VIII 303
+
+  ---- Rackrent  IV 21
+
+  Catiline, Conspiracy of  XI 168
+
+  Cato: A Tragedy  XVI 1
+
+  CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS  =XVI= 219
+
+  CELLINI, BENVENUTO  =IX= 120
+
+  Cellular Pathology  XV 292
+
+  CERVANTES, MIGUEL  =II= 198
+
+  CHAMBERS, ROBERT  =XV= 22
+
+  CHAMISSO, ADALBERT VON  =II= 212
+
+  Characters  XX 193
+
+  Charles XII, History of  XII 280
+
+  ---- O'Malley  VI 26
+
+  Chartreuse of Parma, The  VIII 103
+
+  CHATEAUBRIAND, FRAN�OIS REN� VICOMTE DE  =II= 224;  IX 124
+
+  CHAUCER, GEOFFREY  =XVI= 226
+
+  Chemical History of a Candle, The  XV 85
+
+  ---- Philosophy, Elements of  XV 64
+
+  Chemistry, Animal  XV 203
+
+  CHERBULIEZ, CHARLES VICTOR  =II= 235
+
+  CHESTERFIELD, EARL OF  =IX= 144
+
+  Childe Harold's Pilgrimage  XVI 188
+
+  Childhood, Boyhood, Youth  X 291
+
+  China's Four Books: see CONFUCIANISM
+
+  Christ, Imitation of  XIII 160
+
+  Christian Religion, Institution of the  XIII 75
+
+  Christianity, History of Latin: see Papacy
+
+  Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland  XI 286
+
+  CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS  =IX= 155;  XX 70
+
+  Cid, The  XVI 267
+
+  Citizen of the World, The  XX 149
+
+  City of Dreadful Night, The  XVIII 293
+
+  ---- of God, The  XIII 29
+
+  Civilisation in Europe, History of  XI 241
+
+  Clarendon, Earl of: see HYDE, EDWARD
+
+  Clarissa Harlowe  VII 118
+
+  Cloister and the Hearth, The  VII 92
+
+  COBBETT, WILLIAM  =XX= 78
+
+  Cobden, Life of Richard  X 144
+
+  COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR  =IX= 166;  XIII 84
+
+  Collegians, The  V 13
+
+  COLLINS, WILKIE  =II= 249 _seq._
+
+  Columbus, Life of Christopher  X 41
+
+  Commentaries on the Gallic War  XI 144
+
+  Complete Angler, The  XX 334
+
+  COMTE, AUGUSTE  =XIV= 244
+
+  Concerning Friendship  XX 70
+
+  ---- the Human Understanding  XIV 56
+
+  Confessions, My (Count Tolstoy)  X 301
+
+  ---- of Augustine  IX 24
+
+  ---- of an English Opium Eater  IX 189
+
+  ---- of Jean Jacques Rousseau  X 190
+
+  CONFUCIANISM  =XIII= 93
+
+  CONGREVE, WILLIAM  =XVI= 246 _seq._
+
+  Coningsby  III 227
+
+  Conspiracy of Catiline, The  XI 168
+
+  Consuelo  VII 205
+
+  Conversations with Eckerman  IX 303
+
+  ----, Imaginary  XX 203
+
+  CONWAY, HUGH  =II= 274
+
+  COOK, JAMES  =XIX= 100
+
+  COOPER, FENIMORE  =II= 285 _seq._
+
+  Corinne  VIII 89
+
+  CORNEILLE, PIERRE  =XVI= 267 _seq._
+
+  Corsican Brothers, The  III 292
+
+  Cosmos, A Sketch of the Universe  XV 158
+
+  Count of Monte Cristo, The  III 304
+
+  Courtships of (Queen) Elizabeth, The  X 13
+
+  COWPER, WILLIAM  =IX= 177;  XVI 290
+
+  CRAIK, MRS.  =II= 312
+
+  Cranford  IV 215
+
+  Creation, Vestiges of  XV 22
+
+  Crescent and the Cross, The  XIX 299
+
+  Critique of Practical Reason  XIV 34
+
+  ---- of Pure Reason  XIV 24
+
+  CROLY, GEORGE  =II= 324
+
+  Cromwell, Letters and Speeches of Oliver  IX 99
+
+  Cuthbert Bede: see BRADLEY, EDWARD
+
+  CUVIER, GEORGES  =XV= 33
+
+
+  DAMPIER, WILLIAM  =XIX= 112
+
+  DANA, RICHARD HENRY  =II= 335
+
+  DANTE ALIGHIERI  =XVI= 300 _seq._
+
+  DARWIN, CHARLES  =XV= 43;  XIX 124
+
+  DAUDET, ALPHONSE  =III= 1
+
+  Daughter of Heth, A  I 300
+
+  David Copperfield  III 79
+
+  DA VINCI, LEONARDO  =XX= 227
+
+  DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY  =XV= 64
+
+  Dawn of Civilisation, The  XI 1
+
+  DAY, THOMAS  =III= 14
+
+  Dead Man's Diary, A  V 224
+
+  Death of the Gods, The  VI 227
+
+  Decameron, The, or Ten Days' Entertainment  I 327
+
+  Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire  XI 174 _seq._;  XI 229
+
+  Deeds and Words  X 1
+
+  DEFOE, DANIEL  =III= 26 _seq._;  XX 90
+
+  Democracy in America  XX 324
+
+  DEMOSTHENES  =XX= 99
+
+  DE QUINCEY, THOMAS  =IX= 189
+
+  DESCARTES, REN�  =XIII= 337
+
+  Desert, The  XIX 201
+
+  Dialogues on the System of the World  XV 105
+
+  Diary of John Evelyn  IX 213
+
+  ---- of Samuel Pepys  X 154
+
+  DICKENS, CHARLES  =III= 53 _seq._
+
+  Discourse on Method  XIII 337
+
+  Discourses and Encheiridion (Epictetus)  XIII 358
+
+  ---- with Himself (M. Aurelius)  XIII 307
+
+  Discovery of the Source of the Nile  XIX 251
+
+  DISRAELI, BENJAMIN  =III= 227 _seq._
+
+  Divine Comedy, The  XVI 300 _seq._
+
+  Doctor in Spite of Himself, The  XVII 362
+
+  Dombey and Son  III 94
+
+  Don Juan  XVI 197
+
+  ---- Quixote, Life and Adventures of  II 198
+
+  Drink  VIII 318
+
+  DRYDEN, JOHN  =XVI= 322
+
+  DUBOIS, F�LIX  =XIX= 136
+
+  DUMAS, ALEXANDRE (_p�re_)  =III= 269 _seq._;  =IX= 201 (Memoirs)
+
+  Dutch Republic, Rise of the  XII 220
+
+
+  Earth, Theory of the  XV 170
+
+  EBERS, GEORGE  =IV= 1
+
+  Eckerman, Goethe's Conversations with  IX 303
+
+  EDGEWORTH, MARIA  =IV= 13 _seq._
+
+  Education  XIV 120
+
+  Egypt:
+    Ancient History  XI 1 _seq._;
+    Medi�val History  XI 272;
+    Religion  XIII 47
+
+  Egyptian Princess, An  IV 1
+
+  Electricity, Experimental Researches in  XV 75
+
+  ---- and Magnetism, Treatise on  XV 227
+
+  Elements of Chemical Philosophy  XV 64
+
+  ELIOT, GEORGE  =IV= 33 _seq._
+
+  ELIOT, SAMUEL  =XII= 1
+
+  Elizabeth, Queen:
+    Courtships  X 13;
+    "Life"  X 270
+
+  ELPHINSTONE, MOUNTSTUART  =XII= 246
+
+  Elsie Venner  V 87
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO  =XIII= 349;  XX 109 _seq._
+
+  Emma  I 162
+
+  England, History of:
+    Buckle  XII 76;
+    Freeman  XI 298;
+    Froude  XI 315;
+    Holinshed  XI 286;
+    Macaulay  XII 55;
+    Rebellion (1642)  XII 41
+
+  English Constitution, The  XII 88
+
+  ----, Letters on the  XIX 275
+
+  ---- Literature, History of  XX 298
+
+  ---- Poets, Lectures on the  XX 169
+
+  ---- Traits  XX 109
+
+  Eothen  XIV 159
+
+  EPICTETUS  =XIII= 358
+
+  Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems of Martial  XVII 295
+
+  ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS  =XX= 126 _seq._
+
+  ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN  =IV= 97
+
+  Essay on Liberty  XX 248
+
+  ---- on Man  XVIII 94
+
+  Essays in Criticism  XX 18
+
+  ---- in Eugenics  XV 111
+
+  ---- of Montaigne  XIV 64
+
+  ---- Moral and Political  XIV 13
+
+  Ethics of Aristotle  XIII 291
+
+  ---- of Spinoza  XIV 160
+
+  Eugene Aram  VI 87
+
+  Eug�nie Grandet  I 188
+
+  EURIPIDES  =XVI= 336
+
+  Europe:
+    History of Civilisation in  XI 241;
+    in Middle Ages  XI 255;
+    Literature of  XX 158
+
+  Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie  XVII 241
+
+  Evelina  II 150
+
+  EVELYN, JOHN  =IX= 213
+
+  EVERYMAN  =XVI= 348
+
+  Every Man in His Humour  XVII 195
+
+  Evolution of Man, The  XV 123
+
+  Existence of God, The  XIII 117
+
+  Experimental Researches in Electricity  XV 75
+
+
+  Fables of �sop  XX 10
+
+  Familiar Colloquies  XX 126
+
+  FARADAY, MICHAEL  =XV= 75 _seq._
+
+  Fathers and Sons  VIII 245
+
+  Faust  XVI 362
+
+  Faustus, Tragical History of Dr.  XVII 282
+
+  Felix Holt, The Radical  IV 45
+
+  F�NELON, DE LA MOTHE  =XIII= 117
+
+  Ferdinand and Isabella, Reign of  XII 271
+
+  Festus: A Poem  XVI 86
+
+  FEUILLET, OCTAVE  =IV= 100
+
+  FIELDING, HENRY  =IV= 122 _seq._
+
+  Figaro, The Marriage of XVI
+
+  File No. 113  IV 192
+
+  FINLAY, GEORGE  =XII= 206
+
+  FLAMMARION, CAMILLE  =IV= 168
+
+  FLETCHER; See BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
+
+  FOREL, AUGUSTE  =XV= 95
+
+  FORSTER, JOHN  =IX= 225
+
+  FOUQU�, DE LA MOTTE  =IV= 180
+
+  FOX, GEORGE,  =IX= 238
+
+  Fragments of an Intimate Diary  IX 13
+
+  France, History of:
+    Girondists  XII 165;
+    Louis XIV,  XII 101;
+    Modern R�gime  XII 177;
+    Old R�gime  XII 117;
+    Revolution (Burke)  XIV 212, (Carlyle)  XII 147, (Mignet)  XII 129;
+    see also (Memoirs, etc.) La Rochefoucauld, Mirabeau, de Staal,
+          de S�vign�, etc.
+
+  ----, Travels in  XIX 327
+
+  ---- and Italy, Sentimental Journey Through  XIX 263
+
+  Frankenstein  VIII 41
+
+  FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN  =IX= 247
+
+  Frederick the Great  XII 188
+
+  FREEMAN, EDWARD A.  =XI= 298
+
+  Friendship, Concerning  XX 70
+
+  Frogs, The  XVI 72
+
+  FROUDE, JAMES ANTHONY  =XI= 315
+
+  Future of War, The  XIV 199
+
+
+  GABORIAU, �MILE  =IV= 192
+
+  GALILEO GALILEI  =XIII= 129;  =XV= 105
+
+  Gallic War, C�sar's Commentaries on the  XI 144
+
+  GALT, JOHN  =IV= 204
+
+  GALTON, SIR FRANCIS  =XV= 111
+
+  Garden of Allah, The  V 73
+
+  Gargantua and Pantagruel  VII 54
+
+  GASKELL, MRS.  =IV= 215 _seq._;  IX 259
+
+  Geoffry Hamlyn  V 306
+
+  Geology, Principles of XV
+
+  GEORGE, HENRY  =XIV= 238
+
+  Germania  XX 286
+
+  Germany, On  XX 276
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM  =XX= 140
+
+  GIBBON, EDWARD  =IX= 272 (Memoirs);  =XI= 174 _seq._;  XI 229
+
+  Gil Blas  VI 14
+
+  Girondists, History of the  XII 165
+
+  GODWIN, WILLIAM  =IV= 241
+
+  GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON  =IV= 253 _seq._;  IX 283 _seq._;  XVI 362;
+         XVII 1 _seq._
+
+  Goetz von Berlichingen  XVII 1
+
+  GOGOL, NICOLAI  =XVII= 30
+
+  Golden Ass, The  I 45
+
+  GOLDSMITH, OLIVER  =IV= 275 _seq._;  XVII 39;  XX 149
+
+  GONCOURT, EDMOND and JULES DE  =IV= 289
+
+  G�tterd�mmerung  XVIII 336
+
+  Grace Abounding  IX 79
+
+  Grammont, Memoirs of the Count de  IX 324
+
+  GRANT, JAMES  =IV= 301
+
+  GRAY, MAXWELL  =V= 1
+
+  GRAY, THOMAS  =IX= 315
+
+  Great Expectations  III 106
+
+  ---- Lone Land, The  XIX 79
+
+  Greece, History of  XI 81 _seq._;
+    (modern)  XII 206
+
+  GRIFFIN, GERALD  =V= 13
+
+  GROTE, GEORGE  =XI= 122
+
+  GUIZOT, FRAN�OIS PIERRE GUILLAME  =XI= 241
+
+  Gulliver's Travels  VIII 157
+
+  Guy Mannering  VII 255
+
+
+  HABBERTON, JOHN  =V= 26
+
+  HAECKEL, ERNST  =XV= 123
+
+  Hajji Baba of Ispahan, The Adventures of  VI 276
+
+  HAKLUYT, RICHARD  =XIX= 148
+
+  HALEVY, LUDOVIC  =V= 38
+
+  HALLAM, HENRY  =XI= 255;  XX 158
+
+  HAMILTON, ANTHONY  =IX= 324
+
+  Hamlet  XVIII 170
+
+  Handy Andy  VI 75
+
+  Hard Cash  VII 68
+
+  ---- Times  III 118
+
+  HARVEY, WILLIAM  =XV= 136
+
+  HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL  =V= 50 _seq._;  IX 336
+
+  HAZLITT, WILLIAM  =XX= 169
+
+  Headlong Hall  VII 1
+
+  Heart of Midlothian, The  VII 267
+
+  Heaven and Hell  XIII 249
+
+  HEGEL, GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH  =XIII= 138;  XIV 1
+
+  HEINE, HEINRICH  =XVII= 50
+
+  Helen's Babies  V 26
+
+  Henry Masterton  V 187
+
+  Hereward the Wake  V 248
+
+  Hernani  XVII 110
+
+  HERODOTUS  =XI= 81
+
+  Heroes and Hero Worship, On  XX 50
+
+  HERSCHEL, SIR JOHN  =XV= 146
+
+  Hesperus  VII 143
+
+  Hiawatha, The Song of  XVII 250
+
+  HICHENS, ROBERT  =V= 73
+
+  HINDUISM, BOOKS OF  =XIII= 150
+
+  History, Philosophy of,  XIV 1
+
+  ---- of Philosophy  XIV 45
+
+  ---- of the Caliph Vathek  I 244
+
+  HOBBES, THOMAS  =XIV= 249
+
+  HOLINSHED, RAPHAEL  =XI= 286
+
+  Holland: See Dutch Republic and United Netherlands
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL  =V= 87;  XX 181
+
+  Holy Roman Empire, History of  XI 229;
+    see also Papacy
+
+  ---- War, The  II 124
+
+  HOMER  =XVII= 66 _seq._
+
+  HORACE (Q. HORATIUS FLACCUS)  =XVII= 91
+
+  House of the Seven Gables, The  V 60
+
+  Household of Sir Thomas More, The  VI 155
+
+  Hudibras  XVI 177
+
+  HUGHES, THOMAS  =V= 99 _seq._
+
+  Hugo, Victor  =V= 122 _seq._;  =X= 1;  XVII 110 _seq._
+
+  HUMBOLDT, ALEXANDER VON  =XV= 158
+
+  HUME, DAVID  =XIV= 13
+
+  HUME, MARTIN  =X= 13
+
+  HUTTON, JAMES  =XV= 170
+
+  HYDE, EDWARD (Earl of Clarendon)  =XII= 41
+
+  Hypatia  V 260
+
+  Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory  XV 1
+
+
+  IBSEN, HENRIK  =XVII= 171 _seq._
+
+  Idylls of the King  XVIII 261
+
+  Iliad, The  XVII 66
+
+  Imaginary Conversations  XX 203
+
+  Imitation of Christ, The  XIII 160
+
+  Improvisatore, The  I 30
+
+  INCHBALD, MRS. (ELIZABETH)  =V= 174
+
+  India, History of:  XII 246;
+    Religion: see BRAHMANISM, HINDUISM
+
+  In God's Way  I 287
+
+  ---- Memoriam  XVIII 277
+
+  ---- Praise of Folly  XX 132
+
+  Insects, Senses of  XV 95
+
+  Inspector General, The  XVII 30
+
+  Institution of the Christian Religion  XIII 75
+
+  Introduction to the Literature of Europe  XX 158
+
+  Iphigenia in Tauris  XVII 18
+
+  Ironmaster, The  VI 314
+
+  IRVING, WASHINGTON  =X= 41
+
+  It Is Never Too Late To Mend  VII 79
+
+  Ivanhoe  VII 280
+
+
+  JAMES, G. P. R.  =V= 187
+
+  Jane Eyre  II 54
+
+  Jerusalem Delivered  XVIII 250
+
+  Jesus, Life of  XIII 231
+
+  Jews:
+    History and Antiquities of  XI 43 _seq._;
+    Religion (TALMUD)  XIII 259
+
+  John Halifax, Gentleman  II 312
+
+  JOHNSON, SAMUEL  =V= 199;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 37
+
+  JOKAI, MAURICE  =V= 212
+
+  Jonathan Wild  IV 133
+
+  JONSON, BEN  =XVII= 195
+
+  Joseph Andrews  IV 143
+
+  JOSEPHUS, FLAVIUS  =X= 61;  XI 43
+
+  Joshua Davidson  VI 63
+
+  Journal of George Fox  IX 238
+
+  ---- of the Plague Year, A  XX 90
+
+  ---- to Stella  X 282
+
+  ---- of a Tour to the Hebrides  XIX 37
+
+  ---- of John Wesley  X 327
+
+  ---- of John Woolman  X 341
+
+  Journey Round My Room, A  VI 136
+
+  JUVENAL  =XVII= 207
+
+
+  KANT, IMMANUEL  =XIV= 24 _seq._
+
+  KEMPIS, THOMAS �  =XIII= 160
+
+  Kenilworth  VII 293
+
+  KERNAHAN, COULSON  =V= 224
+
+  King Amuses Himself, The  XVII 145
+
+  ---- of the Mountains, The  I 1
+
+  KINGLAKE, A. W.  =XIX= 159
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES  =V= 236 _seq._
+
+  ----, Henry  V 306
+
+  KLOPSTOCK, FRIEDRICH GOTTLIEB  =XVII= 217
+
+  Knights, The  XVI 79
+
+  KORAN, THE  =XIII= 169
+
+
+  LA BRUY�RE  =XX= 193
+
+  Lady Audley's Secret  II 27
+
+  ---- of the Lake, The  XVIII 160
+
+  LAMARCK, JEAN BAPTISTE  =XV= 179
+
+  LAMARTINE, A. M. L. DE  =XII= 165
+
+  LAMB, CHARLES and MARY  =XVIII= 170
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE  =XX= 203
+
+  LANE-POOLE, STANLEY  =XI= 272
+
+  Laocoon  XX 239
+
+  LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, FRAN�OIS DUC DE  =X= 203 (Memoirs);  XX 215
+
+  Last of the Barons, The  VI 113
+
+  ---- of the Mohicans, The  II 285
+
+  ---- Days of Pompeii, The  VI 99
+
+  LAVATER, JOHANN  =XV= 191
+
+  Lavengro  II 1
+
+  Laws, The Spirit of  XIV 306
+
+  LAYARD, AUSTEN HENRY  =XIX= 171
+
+  Lazarillo de Tormes  VI 217
+
+  Lectures on the English Poets  XX 169
+
+  LE FANU, SHERIDAN  =VI= 1
+
+  Legend of the Ages, The  XVII 159
+
+  Legislation, Principles of Morals and  XIV 186
+
+  LEONARDO DA VINCI  =XX= 227
+
+  LE SAGE, REN�  =VI= 14
+
+  LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM  =XVII= 226;  XX 239
+
+  Letters of Ab�lard and H�lo�se  IX 1
+
+  ---- of Cicero  IX 155
+
+  ---- on the English  XIX 275
+
+  ---- of Thomas Gray  IX 315
+
+  ---- to His Son, Lord Chesterfield's  IX 144
+
+  ---- of Pliny the Younger  X 166
+
+  ---- to a Provincial  XIII 209
+
+  ---- of Mme. de S�vign�  X 216
+
+  ---- Written in the Years 1782-86  IX 177
+
+  ---- to Zelter  IX 283
+
+  ---- and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Carlyle's  IX 99
+
+  LEVER, CHARLES  =VI= 26 _seq._
+
+  Leviathan, The  XIV 249
+
+  LEWES, GEORGE HENRY  =XIV= 45
+
+  LEWES, M. G.  =VI= 51
+
+  Liar, The  XVI 279
+
+  Liberty, Essay on  XX 248
+
+  LIEBIG, JUSTUS VON  =XV= 203
+
+  Life, Prolongation of  XV 246
+
+  Life of Thomas Arnold  X 260
+
+  ---- of Saint Bernard  X 135
+
+  ---- of Robert Burns  X 86
+
+  ---- of Charlotte Bront�  IX 259
+
+  ---- of Lord Byron  X 122
+
+  ---- of Cobden  X 144
+
+  ---- of Christopher Columbus  X 41
+
+  ---- of Queen Elizabeth  X 270
+
+  ---- of Goldsmith  IX 225
+
+  ---- of Jesus  XIII 231
+
+  ---- of Dr. Johnson  IX 37
+
+  ---- of Nelson  X 226
+
+  ---- of Sir Isaac Newton  IX 66
+
+  ---- of Pitt  X 248
+
+  ---- of Girolamo Savonarola  X 312
+
+  ---- of Schiller  IX 111
+
+  ---- of Sir Walter Scott  X 70
+
+  ---- of George Washington  X 51
+
+  LINNAEUS, CAROLUS  =XIX= 181
+
+  LINTON, MRS. LYNN  =VI= 63
+
+  Literature, History of English  XX 298
+
+  ----, Main Currents of 19th Century  XX 31
+
+  ---- of Europe, Introduction to the  XX 158
+
+  ----: see also M. ARNOLD, HAZLITT, etc.
+
+  Little Dorrit  III 131
+
+  LIVINGSTONE, DAVID  =XIX= 191
+
+  LOCKE, JOHN  =XIV= 56
+
+  LOCKHART, JOHN GIBSON  =X= 70
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH  =XVII= 241 _seq._
+
+  Looking Backward  XIV 173
+
+  Lorna Doone  I 313
+
+  LORRIS and DE MEUN, DE  =XVIII= 117
+
+  Lost Sir Massingberd  VI 336
+
+  LOTI, PIERRE  =XIX= 201
+
+  Louis XIV, The Age of  XII 101
+
+  Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots, The  X 27
+
+  ---- Letters of Ab�lard and H�lo�se  IX 1
+
+  LOVER, SAMUEL  =VI= 75
+
+  LUCRETIUS  =XVII= 261
+
+  LUTHER, MARTIN  =X= 102
+
+  LYELL, SIR CHARLES  =XV= 215
+
+  LYTTON, EDWARD BULWER  =VI= 87 _seq._
+
+
+  MACAULAY, LORD  =XII= 55
+
+  Macbeth  XVIII 180
+
+  MACHIAVELLI, NICCOLO  =XIV= 261
+
+  MACKENZIE, HENRY  =VI= 124
+
+  MACPHERSON, JAMES  =XVII= 272
+
+  Magic Skin, The  I 213
+
+  Magnetism, Treatise on Electricity and  XV 227
+
+  Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature  XX 31
+
+  MAISTRE, XAVIER DE  =VI= 136
+
+  MALORY, SIR THOMAS  =VI= 145
+
+  MALTHUS, T. R.  =XIV= 270
+
+  Man, Essay on  XVIII 94
+
+  ----, Evolution of  XV 123
+
+  ----, Nature of  XV 238
+
+  ----, The Rights of  XIV 324
+
+  ---- of Feeling, The  VI 124
+
+  ---- Who Laughs, The  V 162
+
+  MANDEVILLE, SIR JOHN  =XIX= 210
+
+  MANNING, ANNE  =VI= 155
+
+  Mansfield Park  I 150
+
+  Mansie Wauch  VI 262
+
+  MANZONI, ALESSANDRO  =VI= 169
+
+  Marguerite de Valois  III 269
+
+  Marion de Lorme  XVII 123
+
+  MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER  =XVII= 282
+
+  Marmion  XVIII 147
+
+  Marriage of Figaro, The  XVI 116
+
+  MARRYAT, CAPTAIN  =VI= 181 _seq._
+
+  MARTIAL  =XVII= 295
+
+  Martin Chuzzlewit  III 143
+
+  Mary Barton  IV 228
+
+  ---- Queen of Scots, Love Affairs of  X 27
+
+  MARX, KARL  =XIV= 282
+
+  MASPERO, GASTON  =XI= 1 _seq._
+
+  MASSINGER, PHILIP  =XVII= 305
+
+  Master Builder, The  XVII 171
+
+  MATURIN, CHARLES  =VI= 205
+
+  Mauprat  VII 217
+
+  MAXWELL, JAMES CLERK  =XV= 227
+
+  Mayor of Zalamea, The  XVI 206
+
+  Melancholy, Anatomy of XX
+
+  Melmoth the Wanderer  VI 205
+
+  Memoirs of Alexander Dumas  IX 201
+
+  ---- from Beyond the Grave  IX 134
+
+  ---- of the Count de Grammont  IX 324
+
+  ---- of the Duc De La Rochefoucauld  X 203
+
+  ---- of Edward Gibbon  IX 272
+
+  ---- of Mirabeau  X 111
+
+  ---- of Mme. de Staal  X 238
+
+  Men, Representative  XX 118;
+    see also PLUTARCH, etc.
+
+  MENDOZA, DIEGO DE  =VI= 217
+
+  Merchant of Venice  XVIII 186
+
+  MEREJKOWSKI, DMITRI  =VI= 227
+
+  M�RIM�E, PROSPER  =VI= 239
+
+  Messiah, The  XVII 217
+
+  Metamorphoses  XVIII 64
+
+  METCHNIKOFF, ELIE  =XV= 238 _seq._
+
+  Mexico, History of the Conquest of  XII 19
+
+  Middle Ages: History, see Vol XI
+
+  ----, GESTA ROMANORUM: A Story-book of the  XX 140
+
+  Midshipman Easy, Mr.  VI 181
+
+  Midsummer Night's Dream, A  XVIII 196
+
+  MIGNET, FRAN�OIS  =XII= 129
+
+  MILL, JOHN STUART  =XIV= 294;  XX 248
+
+  Mill on the Floss, The  IV 85
+
+  MILLER, HUGH  =XV= 255
+
+  MILMAN, HENRY  =XI= 68;  XII 289
+
+  MILTON, JOHN  =XVII= 319;  XX 257
+
+  MIRABEAU, HONOR� GABRIEL COMTE DE  =X= 111
+
+  Misanthrope, The  XVIII 1
+
+  Mis�rables, Les  V 122
+
+  Missionary Travels and Researches  XIX 191
+
+  MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL  =VI= 251
+
+  Modern R�gime  XII 177
+
+  MOIR, DAVID  =VI= 262
+
+  MOLI�RE  =XVII= 362;  XVIII 1 _seq._
+
+  MOMMSEN, THEODOR  =XI= 215
+
+  MONTAIGNE  =XIV= 64
+
+  Monte Cristo, The Count of  III 304
+
+  MONTESQUIEU  =XIV= 306
+
+  MOORE, THOMAS  =X= 122
+
+  Moral Maxims, Reflections and  XX 215
+
+  Morals and Legislation, Principles of  XIV 186
+
+  MORE, SIR THOMAS  =XIV= 315;
+    "Household of"  VI 155
+
+  MORIER, JAMES  =VI= 276
+
+  MORISON, J. A. C.  =X= 135
+
+  MORLEY, JOHN  =X= 144
+
+  Morte D'Arthur  VI 145
+
+  MOTLEY, JOHN LOTHROP  =XII= 220 _seq._
+
+  Mourning Bride, The  XVI 246
+
+  MURRAY, DAVID CHRISTIE  =VI= 288
+
+  My Confession (Tolstoy)  X 301
+
+  Mysteries of Paris, The  VIII 143
+
+
+  Nathan the Wise  XVII 226
+
+  Natural History  XV 12
+
+  Nature  XIII 349
+
+  ---- of Man  XV 238
+
+  ---- of Things, On the  XVII 261
+
+  Nelson, Life of  X 226
+
+  Nest of Nobles, A  VIII 259
+
+  Never Too Late to Mend  VII 79
+
+  New H�lo�se, The  VII 176
+
+  ---- Voyage Around the World, A  XIX 112
+
+  ---- Way to Pay Old Debts, A  XVII 305
+
+  Newcomes, The  VIII 169
+
+  NEWMAN, CARDINAL  =XIII= 185
+
+  NEWTON, SIR ISAAC  =XV= 267
+
+  NIBELUNGENLIED  =XVIII= 38;
+    see also WAGNER (Nibelungen Ring)
+
+  Nicholas Nickleby  III 154
+
+  Nightmare Abbey  VII 15
+
+  Nineveh and Its Remains  XIX 171
+
+  No Name  II 249
+
+  Norman Conquest of England. The  XI 298
+
+  NORRIS, FRANK  =VI= 301
+
+  Northanger Abbey  I 138
+
+  Notre Dame de Paris  V 133
+
+
+  Odes of Horace  XVI 102
+
+  ---- of Pindar  XVIII 75
+
+  Odyssey, The  XVII 78
+
+  OHNET, GEORGES  =VI= 314
+
+  Old Curiosity Shop, The  III 179
+
+  ---- Goriot  I 200
+
+  ---- Mortality  VII 306
+
+  ---- Red Sandstone, The  XV 255
+
+  ---- R�gime  XII 117
+
+  Oliver Twist  III 166
+
+  On Benefits  XIV 109
+
+  ---- Germany  XX 276
+
+  ---- Heroes and Hero Worship  XX 50
+
+  ---- the Height 193
+
+  ---- the Motion of the Heart and Blood  XV 136
+
+  ---- the Nature of Things  XVII 261
+
+  ---- the Principle of Population  XIV 270
+
+  Origin of Species, The  XV 43
+
+  Orlando Furioso  XVI 51
+
+  Oroonoko: The Royal Slave  I 255
+
+  Ossian  XVII 272
+
+  OTWAY, THOMAS  =XVIII= 48
+
+  OUIDA (LOUISE DE LA RAM�E)  =VI= 326
+
+  Our Mutual Friend  III 190
+
+  ---- Old Home  IX 336
+
+  ---- Village  VI 251
+
+  Outlines of Astronomy  XV 146
+
+  OVID  =XVIII= 64
+
+  OWEN, SIR RICHARD  =XV= 280
+
+
+  PAINE, THOMAS  =XIII= 196;  XIV 324
+
+  Painting, Treatise on  XX 227
+
+  Pamela  VII 106
+
+  Papacy, History of:  XII 289 _seq._;
+    see also Holy Roman Empire
+
+  Papers of the Forest School-Master  VII 165
+
+  Paradise Lost  XVII 319
+
+  ---- Regained  XVII 342
+
+  Paradiso  XVI 314
+
+  Parallel Lives  XX 266
+
+  PARK, MUNGO  =XIX= 219
+
+  PASCAL, BLAISE  =XIII= 209
+
+  Passing of the Empire, The  XI 30
+
+  Paul and Virginia  VII 192
+
+  PAYN, JAMES  =VI= 336
+
+  PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE  =VII= _seq._
+
+  Peloponnesian War  XI 95
+
+  PENN, WILLIAM  =XIII= 222
+
+  PEPYS, SAMUEL  =X= 154
+
+  Peregrine Pickle  VIII 76
+
+  Persians, The  XVI 28
+
+  Persuasion  I 174
+
+  Peru, History of the Conquest of  XII 30
+
+  Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man  II 212
+
+  ---- Simple  VI 193
+
+  Peveril of the Peak  VII 318
+
+  Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding  XVI 133
+
+  Philippics, The  XX 99
+
+  Philosophy, A History of  XIV 45
+
+  ---- of History, The  XIV 1
+
+  ---- of Religion, The  XIII 138
+
+  Physiognomical Fragments  XV 191
+
+  Pickwick Papers  III 201
+
+  Pilgrim's Progress, The  II 136
+
+  Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah, A  XIX 67
+
+  Pillars of Society, The  XVII 186
+
+  PINDAR  =XVIII= 75
+
+  Pit, The  VI 301
+
+  Pitt, Life of William  X 248
+
+  Plague Year, Journal of the  XX 90
+
+  PLATO  =XIV= 75 _seq._
+
+  PLINY, THE YOUNGER  =X= 166
+
+  PLUTARCH  =XX= 266
+
+  Poems of Catullus  XVI 219
+
+  ---- of Horace  XVII 91
+
+  ---- of Martial  XVII 295
+
+  Poetry and Truth from my Own Life  IX 291
+
+  ----: see also Laocoon, Literature, etc.
+
+  Poets, Lectures on the English  XX 169
+
+  Political Testament of Cardinal Richelieu  X 178
+
+  ---- Economy, Principles of  XIV 294
+
+  POLO, MARCO  =XIX= 229
+
+  POPE, ALEXANDER  =XVIII= 94
+
+  Popes, History of the: See Papacy
+
+  Population, On the Principle of  XIV 270
+
+  PORTER, JANE  =VII= 28
+
+  Positive Philosophy, A Course of  XIV 224
+
+  PRESCOTT, WILLIAM HICKLING  =XII= 19 _seq._;  XII 271
+
+  Pride and Prejudice  I 123
+
+  Prince, The  XIV 261
+
+  Principall Navigations, The  XIV 148
+
+  Principia  XV 267
+
+  Principles of Biology  XIV 133
+
+  ---- of Geology, The  XV 215
+
+  ---- of Human Knowledge  XIII 329
+
+  ---- of Morals and Legislation  XIV 186
+
+  ---- of Political Economy  XIV 294
+
+  ---- of Sociology  XIV 145
+
+  Progress and Poverty  XIV 238
+
+  Prolongation of Life  XV 246
+
+  Prometheus Bound  XVI 38
+
+  Purgatorio  XVI 307
+
+  PUSHKIN, ALEXANDER SERGEYVITCH  =VII= 42
+
+
+  Quentin Durward  VIII 1
+
+  Quest of the Absolute, The  I 227
+
+
+  RABELAIS, FRAN�OIS  =VII= 54
+
+  RACINE, JEAN  =XVIII= 106
+
+  RANKE, LEOPOLD VON  =XII= 301
+
+  Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia  V 199
+
+  Ravenshoe  V 319
+
+  READE, CHARLES  =VII= 68 _seq._
+
+  Reflections and Moral Maxims  XX 215
+
+  ---- on the Revolution in France  XIV 212
+
+  Religio Medici  XIII 66
+
+  RENAN, ERNEST  =XIII= 231
+
+  Ren�e Mauperin  IV 289
+
+  Representative Men  XX 118
+
+  Republic, Plato's  XIV 84
+
+  Revolt of Islam, The  XVIII 214
+
+  Rheingold  XVIII 305
+
+  RICHARDSON, SAMUEL  =VII= 106 _seq._
+
+  RICHELIEU, CARDINAL  =X= 178
+
+  RICHTER, JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH  =VII= 143 _seq._
+
+  Rights of Man, The  =XIV= 324
+
+  Robinson Crusoe  III 26
+
+  Rob Roy  VIII 13
+
+  Rochefoucauld: See LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+
+  Roderick Random  VIII 64
+
+  Romance of a Poor Young Man  IV 110
+
+  ROMANCE OF THE ROSE  =XVIII= 117
+
+  Romany Rye, The  II 13
+
+  Rome, History of  XI 144 _seq._
+
+  Romeo and Juliet  XVIII 203
+
+  Romola  IV 58
+
+  ROSSEGGER, PETER  =VII= 165
+
+  ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES  =VII= 176;  =X= 190 (Confessions);  XIV 337
+
+  Russia Under Peter the Great  XII 259
+
+  Ruy Blas  XVII 134
+
+
+  SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE  =VII= 192;  XIX 241
+
+  Saints' Everlasting Rest, The  XIII 37
+
+  Salathiel, or Tarry Thou Till I Come  II 324
+
+  SALLUST, CAIUS CRISPUS  =XI= 168
+
+  Samson Agonistes  XVII 349
+
+  Samuel Brohl and Company  II 235
+
+  SAND, GEORGE  =VII= 205 _seq._
+
+  Sandford and Merton  III 14
+
+  Sartor Resartus  XX 61
+
+  Satires of Juvenal  XVII 207
+
+  ---- of Horace  XVI 91
+
+  ----: see also ERASMUS, GOLDSMITH, etc.
+
+  Savonarola, Life of Girolamo  X 312
+
+  Scarlet Letter, The  V 50
+
+  SCHILLER, FRIEDRICH VON  =XVIII= 129;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 111
+
+  SCHLIEMANN, HEINRICH  =XI= 132
+
+  School for Scandal, The  XVIII 226
+
+  ---- for Wives, The  XVIII 14
+
+  SCHOPENHAUER, ARTHUR  =XIV= 99
+
+  SCOTT, MICHAEL  =VII= 229
+
+  SCOTT, SIR WALTER  =VII= 241 _seq._;  VIII 1 _seq._;  XVIII 147 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  =X= 70
+
+  Scottish Chiefs, The  VII 28
+
+  SENECA, L. ANNAEUS  =XIV= 109
+
+  Sense and Sensibility  I 109
+
+  Senses of Insects, The  XV 95
+
+  Sentimental Journey through France and Italy  XIX 263
+
+  S�VIGN�, Mme. DE  =X= 216
+
+  Shadow of the Sword, The  II 111
+
+  SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM  =XVIII= 170 _seq._
+
+  SHELLEY, MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT  =VIII= 41
+
+  SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE  =XVIII= 214
+
+  SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY  =XVIII= 226
+
+  She Stoops to Conquer  XVII 39
+
+  Shirley  II 71
+
+  SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP  =VIII= 54
+
+  Siegfried  XVIII 327
+
+  Silas Marner  IV 73
+
+  Silence of Dean Maitland, The  V 1
+
+  Simple Story, A  V 174
+
+  Sir Charles Grandison  VII 130
+
+  SMITH, ADAM  =XIV= 350
+
+  Smoke  VIII 272
+
+  SMOLLETT, TOBIAS  =VIII= 64 _seq._
+
+  Social Contract, The  XIV 337
+
+  Sociology, Principles of  XIV 145
+
+  Socrates, Apology or Defence of  XIV 75
+
+  Some Fruits of Solitude  XIII 222
+
+  SOPHOCLES  =XVIII= 237
+
+  Sorrows of Young Werther  IV 253
+
+  SOUTHEY, ROBERT  =X= 226
+
+  Spain: (Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella)  XII 271
+
+  Spectator, The  XX 1
+
+  SPEKE, JOHN HANNING  =XIX= 251
+
+  SPENCER, HERBERT  =XIV= 120 _seq._
+
+  SPINOZA, BENEDICT DE  =XIV= 160
+
+  Spirit of Laws, The  XIV 306
+
+  Spy, The  II 297
+
+  STAAL, Mme. DE  =X= 238
+
+  STA�L, Mme. DE  =VIII= 89;  XX 276
+
+  STANHOPE, EARL  =X= 248
+
+  STANLEY, ARTHUR PENRHYN  =X= 260
+
+  STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE)  =VIII= 103
+
+  STERNE, LAURENCE  VIII 117;  =XIX= 263
+
+  STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER  =VIII= 130
+
+  Stafford  XVI 165
+
+  STRICKLAND, AGNES  =X= 270
+
+  Struggle of the Nations, The  XI 20
+
+  SUE, EUG�NE  =VIII= 143
+
+  Surface of the Globe, The  XV 33
+
+  Sweden (History of Charles XII)  XII 280
+
+  SWEDENBORG, EMANUEL  =XIII= 249
+
+  SWIFT, JONATHAN  =VIII= 157;  X 282
+
+  Sybil, or The Two Nations  III 243
+
+
+  Table Talk by Martin Luther  X 102
+
+  TACITUS, PUBLIUS CORNELIUS  =XI= 156;  XX 286
+
+  TAINE, HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE  =XII= 177;  XX 298
+
+  Tale of Two Cities  III 213
+
+  Tales from Shakespeare  XVIII 170
+
+  Talisman, The  VIII 25
+
+  TALMUD, THE  =XIII= 259
+
+  Tancred  III 256
+
+  Tartarin of Tarascon  III 1
+
+  Tartuffe  XVIII 29
+
+  Task, The  XVI 290
+
+  TASSO, TORQUATO  =XVIII= 250
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD  =XVIII= 261 _seq._
+
+  THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE  =VIII= 169 _seq._
+
+  Theory of the Earth  XV 170
+
+  THOMSON, JAMES  =XVIII= 293
+
+  THOREAU, HENRY DAVID  =XX= 312
+
+  Three Musketeers, The  III 316
+
+  THUCYDIDES  =XI= 95
+
+  Timar's Two Worlds  V 212
+
+  Timbuctoo the Mysterious  XIX 136
+
+  Titan  VII 152
+
+  TOCQUEVILLE, DE  =XII= 117;  XX 324
+
+  Toilers of the Sea, The  V 146
+
+  TOLSTOY, COUNT  =VIII= 205;  =X= 291 _seq._ (Confession, etc.)
+
+  Tom Brown's Schooldays  V 99
+
+  Tom Brown at Oxford  V 110
+
+  ---- Burke of Ours  VI 39
+
+  ---- Cringle's Log  VII 229
+
+  ---- Jones  IV 155
+
+  Tour in Lapland, A  XIX 181
+
+  Tower of London  I 17
+
+  Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The XVII
+
+  Travels on the Amazon  XIX 285
+
+  ---- to Discover the Source of the Nile  XIX 47
+
+  Travels in France  XIX 327
+
+  ---- in the Interior of Africa  XIX 219
+
+  ---- of Marco Polo  XIX 229
+
+  ---- in Nubia  XIX 57
+
+  Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, A  XV 227
+
+  ---- on Painting  XX 227
+
+  Tristram Shandy  VIII 117
+
+  TROLLOPE, ANTHONY  =VIII= 221 _seq._
+
+  Troy and Its Remains  XI 32
+
+  TURGENEV, IVAN  =VIII= 245 _seq._
+
+  Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea  VIII 287
+
+  ---- Years After  III 331
+
+  Two Years Ago  V 270
+
+  ---- before the Mast  II 335
+
+
+  Uncle Silas  VI 1
+
+  ---- Tom's Cabin  VIII 130
+
+  Under Two Flags  VI 326
+
+  Undine  IV 180
+
+  United Netherlands, History of the  XII 234
+
+  ---- States, History of  XII 1;
+    see also America
+
+  Urania  IV 168
+
+  Utopia: Nowhereland  XIV 315
+
+
+  Valkyrie  XVIII 316
+
+  Vanity Fair  VIII 192
+
+  Venice Preserved  XVIII 48
+
+  VERNE, JULES  =VIII= 287
+
+  Vertebrates, Anatomy of  XV 280
+
+  Vestiges of Creation  XV 22
+
+  Vicar of Wakefield, The  IV 175
+
+  View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages  XI 155
+
+  VILLARI, PASQUALE  =X= 312
+
+  Villette  II 83
+
+  VINCI, LEONARDO DA  =XX= 227
+
+  VIRCHOW, RUDOLF  =XV= 292
+
+  Virginians, The  VIII 181
+
+  VOLTAIRE  =XII= 101;  XII 259;  XII 280;  XIX 275
+
+  Von Ranke: see RANKE, VON
+
+  Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle, The  XIX 124
+
+  ---- to the Isle of France  XIX 241
+
+  Voyage to the Moon, A  I 265
+
+  ---- and Travel  XIX 210
+
+  Voyages Round the World  XIX 100
+
+
+  WAGNER, WILHELM RICHARD  =XVIII= 305 _seq._
+
+  Walden  XX 312
+
+  WALLACE, ALFRED RUSSELL  =XIX= 285
+
+  WALPOLE, HORACE  =VIII= 303
+
+  WALTON, ISAAK  =XX= 334
+
+  Wanderings in South America  XIX 313
+
+  War, The Future of  XIV 199
+
+  WARBURTON, ELIOT  =XIX= 299
+
+  Warden, The  VIII 221
+
+  Wars of the Jews  XI 55
+
+  Washington, Life of George  X 51
+
+  Water-Babies  V 282
+
+  Waterloo  IV 97
+
+  WATERTON, CHARLES  =XIX= 313
+
+  Way of the World, The  VI 288
+
+  ---- ---- ---- ----, The  XVI 253
+
+  Wealth of Nations, The  XIV 350
+
+  Werther, Sorrows of Young  IV 253
+
+  WESLEY, JOHN  =X= 327
+
+  Westward Ho!  V 294
+
+  Wild North Land, The  XIX 89
+
+  ---- Wales  XIX 13
+
+  Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship  IV 263
+
+  William Tell  XVIII 129
+
+  Woman in White, The  II 262
+
+  WOOLMAN, JOHN  =X= 341
+
+  World as Will and Idea, The  XIV 99
+
+  Wuthering Heights  II 97
+
+
+  XENOPHON  =XI= 110
+
+
+  YOUNG, ARTHUR  =XIX= 327
+
+
+  Zelter, Goethe's Letters to  IX 283
+
+  ZOLA, �MILE  =VIII= 318
+
+  Zoological Philosophy  XV 179
+
+  ZOROASTRIANISM  =XIII= 76
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+The Index in this eBook uses Roman numerals to reference all twenty
+volumes of this series. Most of those volumes are available at no
+charge from Project Gutenberg:
+
+ VOLUME  PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
+     I:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471
+    II:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643
+   III:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748
+    IV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921
+     V:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993
+    VI:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180
+   VII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527
+  VIII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659
+    IX:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059
+     X:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572
+    XI:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745
+   XII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845
+  XIII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620
+   XIV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009
+    XV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509
+   XVI:  not available when this eBook was produced
+  XVII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640
+ XVIII:  not available when this eBook was produced
+   XIX:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998
+    XX:  this volume
+
+Links to those volumes have been included for use on devices that
+support them. The links are to the volumes, not to the specific pages.
+
+Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
+preference was found for the same author in this book; otherwise they
+were not changed.
+
+Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
+quotation marks corrected in simple situations, otherwise unchanged.
+
+Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
+
+Editor's comments at the beginning of each Chapter originally were
+printed at the bottom of the page, but have been repositioned here to
+appear just below the Chapter titles.
+
+This eBook contains references to other volumes in this series, most of
+which are available at no charge from Project Gutenberg:
+
+Page 49: "corollory" was printed that way.
+
+Page 80: "than an hours spent" was printed that way.
+
+Page 148: "perserver" may be a misprint for "preserver".
+
+Page 163: "Circeronianus" was printed that way.
+
+Page 346: "I enjoyed it an turned" probably is a misprint for "and".
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX
+-- Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+***** This file should be named 44704-8.txt or 44704-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/7/0/44704/
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/44704-8.zip b/old/44704-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..738cc4d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-8.zip
diff --git a/old/44704-h.zip b/old/44704-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1851af0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-h.zip
diff --git a/old/44704-h/44704-h.htm b/old/44704-h/44704-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..34b8f66
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-h/44704-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,16067 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The World's Greatest Books, Vol. XX, by Arthur Mee and J. A. Hammerton.
+    </title>
+    <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
+    <style type="text/css">
+
+body {
+    margin-left: 40px;
+    margin-right: 40px;
+}
+
+h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {
+    text-align: center;
+    clear: both;
+    margin-top: 2.5em;
+    margin-bottom: 1em;
+}
+
+h3 {margin-top: 1em;}
+h4, h5 {margin-top: 1.5em;}
+
+h1 {line-height: 1;}
+
+h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;}
+h2 .subhead, h3 .subhead, h4 .subhead {display: block; margin-top: 1.75em; margin-bottom: 1em;}
+h3 .subhead, h4 .subhead {margin-top: .5em;}
+
+.transnote h2 {
+    margin-top: .5em;
+    margin-bottom: 1em;
+}
+
+.subhead {
+    text-indent: 0;
+    text-align: center;
+    font-size: smaller;
+}
+
+p {
+    text-indent: 1.75em;
+    margin-top: .51em;
+    margin-bottom: .24em;
+    text-align: justify;
+}
+.caption p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;}
+p.center {text-indent: 0;}
+
+.p1 {margin-top: 1em;}
+.p2 {margin-top: 2em;}
+.p4 {margin-top: 4em;}
+
+.in2 {padding-left: 2em;}
+.in4 {padding-left: 4em;}
+
+.small   {font-size: 70%;}
+.smaller {font-size: 85%;}
+.larger  {font-size: 125%;}
+
+.center   {text-align: center;}
+
+.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+.smcap.smaller {font-size: 75%;}
+
+.notbold {font-weight: normal;}
+
+hr {
+    width: 33%;
+    margin-top: 4em;
+    margin-bottom: 4em;
+    margin-left: 33%;
+    margin-right: auto;
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+.tb {
+    text-align: center;
+    padding-top: .5em;
+    padding-bottom: .5em;
+}
+
+table {
+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+    max-width: 80%;
+    border-collapse: collapse;
+    line-height: 1;
+}
+
+.tdl {
+    text-align: justify;
+    vertical-align: top;
+    padding-right: 1em;
+    padding-left: 1.5em;
+    text-indent: -1.5em;
+}
+
+.tdl.p1 {padding-top: .75em;}
+.tdl.in4 {padding-left: 3.5em;}
+
+.tdr {
+    text-align: right;
+    vertical-align: bottom;
+    padding-left: .3em;
+    white-space: nowrap;
+}
+.tdr.top{vertical-align: top; padding-right: 1em;}
+
+.pagenum {
+  position: absolute;
+  right: 4px;
+  text-indent: 0em;
+  text-align: right;
+  font-size: 70%;
+  font-weight: normal;
+  font-variant: normal;
+  font-style: normal;
+  letter-spacing: normal;
+  line-height: normal;
+  color: #acacac;
+  border: 1px solid #acacac;
+  background: #ffffff;
+  padding: 1px 2px;
+}
+
+.figcenter   {
+    margin: 2em auto 2em auto;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+.caption  {
+    font-weight: bold;
+    text-align: center;
+    margin-top: .5em;
+}
+
+li {list-style-type: none; line-height: 1.25;}
+
+.index {margin-left: 5%;}
+.index ul {padding-left: 0;}
+
+li {line-height: .9em; padding-top: .3em; padding-bottom: .3em;}
+li li {padding-top: 0; padding-bottom: 0;}
+li ul {margin-left: -1em;}
+.index li {list-style-type: none; padding-top: .25em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+blockquote {
+    margin-left: 5%;
+    margin-right: 5%;
+    font-size: 95%;
+}
+
+.poem-container {
+    text-align: center;
+    font-size: 98%;
+}
+
+.poem {
+    display: inline-block;
+    text-align: left;
+    margin-left: 0;
+}
+
+.poem .stanza{
+    padding: 0.5em 0;
+}
+
+.poem span.iq     {display: block; margin-left: -.45em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+.poem span.i0     {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+.poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+.poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+.transnote {
+    background-color: #EEE;
+    border: thin dotted;
+    font-family: sans-serif, serif;
+    color: #000;
+    margin-left: 5%;
+    margin-right: 5%;
+    margin-top: 4em;
+    margin-bottom: 2em;
+    padding: 1em;
+}
+
+.gesperrt {
+    letter-spacing: 0.2em;
+    margin-right: -0.2em;
+}
+
+@media print, handheld
+{
+    h1, h2 {page-break-before: always;}
+
+    p {
+        margin-top: .5em;
+        text-align: justify;
+        margin-bottom: .25em;
+    }
+
+    table {width: 100%;}
+
+    .tdl {
+        padding-left: .5em;
+        text-indent: -.5em;
+    }
+
+}
+
+@media handheld
+{
+    body {margin: 0;}
+
+    hr {
+        margin-top: .1em;
+        margin-bottom: .1em;
+        visibility: hidden;
+        color: white;
+		width: .01em;
+        display: none;
+    }
+
+    blockquote {margin: 1.5em 3% 1.5em 3%;}
+
+    .transnote {
+        page-break-inside: avoid;
+        margin-left: 2%;
+        margin-right: 2%;
+        margin-top: 1em;
+        margin-bottom: 1em;
+        padding: .5em;
+    }
+
+}
+  </style>
+
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX --
+Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX -- Miscellaneous Literature and Index
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Arthur Mee
+        J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 18, 2014 [EBook #44704]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<p class="center">Transcriber's note:<br />A complete <a href="#Index">Index</a> of all 20 volumes of <i>The World's
+Greatest Books</i> will be found at the end of this volume.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div id="frontis" class="figcenter" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="368" height="600" class="p4" alt="signed photograph of Matthew Arnold" />
+<div class="caption"><p><span class="smaller notbold">(signed)</span> Matthew Arnold</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 396px;">
+<img src="images/ititle.jpg" width="396" height="600" alt="Image of decorative Title Page" />
+</div>
+
+<h1 class="p4">THE WORLD'S<br />
+GREATEST<br />
+BOOKS</h1>
+
+<p class="p2 center"><span class="smaller gesperrt">JOINT EDITORS</span><br />
+
+ARTHUR MEE<br />
+<span class="smaller">Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge</span><br />
+
+J. A. HAMMERTON<br />
+<span class="smaller">Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia</span></p>
+
+<p class="p2 center larger">VOL. XX</p>
+
+<p class="p1 center larger">MISCELLANEOUS<br />
+LITERATURE</p>
+
+<p class="p1 center larger">INDEX</p>
+
+<p class="p2 center larger"><span class="smcap">Wm. H. Wise &amp; Co.</span>
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">v</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_"><a name="Table_of_Contents" id="Table_of_Contents"><i>Table of Contents</i></a></h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table summary="Contents">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Matthew Arnold</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Addison, Joseph</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr small">PAGE</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Spectator</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_1">1</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Æsop</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Fables</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_10">10</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Arnold, Matthew</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Essays in Criticism</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_18">18</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Brandes, George</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_31">31</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Burton, Robert</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Anatomy of Melancholy</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_41">41</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Carlyle, Thomas</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">On Heroes and Hero Worship</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_50">50</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Sartor Resartus</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_61">61</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Cicero, Marcus Tullius</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Concerning Friendship</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_70">70</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Cobbett, William</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Advice to Young Men</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_78">78</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Defoe, Daniel</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Journal of the Plague Year</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_90">90</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Desmosthenes</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Philippics</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_99">99</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Emerson, Ralph Waldo</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">English Traits</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_109">109</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Representative Men</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_118">118</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Erasmus</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Familiar Colloquies</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_126">126</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">In Praise of Folly</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_132">132</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_140">140</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith, Oliver</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Citizen of the World</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_149">149</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">vi</a></span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Hallam, Henry</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Introduction to the Literature of Europe</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_158">158</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Hazlitt, William</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Lectures on the English Poets</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_169">169</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_181">181</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">La Bruyère</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Characters</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_193">193</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Landor, Walter Savage</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Imaginary Conversations</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_203">203</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">La Rochefoucauld</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Reflections and Moral Maxims</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_215">215</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Leonardo Da Vinci</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Treatise on Painting</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_227">227</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Laocoon</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_239">239</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Mill, John Stuart</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Essay on Liberty</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_248">248</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Milton, John</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Areopagitica</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_257">257</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Plutarch</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Parallel Lives</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_266">266</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Staël, Mme. de</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">On Germany</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_276">276</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Tacitus</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Germania</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_286">286</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Taine</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">History of English Literature</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_298">298</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Thoreau, Henry David</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Walden</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_312">312</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Tocqueville, De</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Democracy in America</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_324">324</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1"><span class="smcap">Walton, Izaak</span></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl in4">Complete Angler</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#ch_334">334</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl p1">INDEX</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="larger">Miscellaneous</span></h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2 id="ch_1"><a name="JOSEPH_ADDISON" id="JOSEPH_ADDISON">JOSEPH ADDISON</a></h2>
+
+<h3>The Spectator</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"The Spectator," the most popular and elegant miscellany of
+English literature, appeared on the 1st of March, 1711. With
+an interruption of two years&mdash;1712 to 1714&mdash;during part of
+which time "The Guardian," a similar periodical, took its place,
+"The Spectator" was continued to the 20th of December, 1714.
+Addison's fame is inseparably associated with this periodical.
+He was the animating spirit of the magazine, and by far the
+most exquisite essays which appear in it are by him. Richard
+Steele, Addison's friend and coadjutor in "The Spectator," was
+born in Dublin in March, 1672, and died at Carmarthen on September
+1, 1729. (Addison biography, see Vol. XVI, p. 1.)</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>The Essays and the Essayist</i></h4>
+
+<p>Addison's "Spectator" is one of the most interesting
+books in the English language. When Dr. Johnson
+praised Addison's prose, it was specially of "The Spectator"
+that he was speaking. "His page," he says, "is
+always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendour.
+His sentences have neither studied amplitude nor
+affected brevity; his periods, though not diligently
+rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever wishes to attain
+an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant
+but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to
+Addison."</p>
+
+<p>Johnson's verdict has been upheld, for it is chiefly by
+"The Spectator" that Addison lives. None but scholars
+know his Latin verse and his voluminous translations
+now. His "Cato" survives only in some half-dozen occasional
+quotations. Two or three hymns of his, including<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span>
+"The spacious firmament on high," and "When all
+Thy mercies, O my God," find a place in church collections;
+and his simile of the angel who rides upon the
+whirlwind and directs the storm is used now and again
+by pressmen and public speakers. But, in the main, when
+we think of Addison, it is of "The Spectator" that we
+think.</p>
+
+<p>Recall the time when it was founded. It was in the
+days of Queen Anne, the Augustan age of the essay.
+There were no newspapers then, no magazines or reviews,
+no Parliamentary reports, nothing corresponding
+to the so-called "light literature" of later days. The
+only centres of society that existed were the court, with
+the aristocracy that revolved about it, and the clubs and
+coffee-houses, in which the commercial and professional
+classes met to discuss matters of general interest, to
+crack their jokes, and to exchange small talk about this,
+that and the other person, man or woman, who might
+happen to figure, publicly or privately, at the time. "The
+Spectator" was one of the first organs to give form and
+consistency to the opinion, the humour and the gossip engendered
+by this social contact.</p>
+
+<p>One of the first, but not quite the first; for the less
+famous, though still remembered, "Tatler" preceded it.
+And these two, "The Tatler" and "The Spectator," have
+an intimate connection from the circumstance that Richard
+Steele, who started "The Tatler" in April, 1709, got
+Addison to write for it, and then joined with Addison in
+"The Spectator" when his own paper stopped in January,
+1711. Addison and Steele had been friends since
+boyhood. They were contemporaries at the Charterhouse,
+and Steele often spent his holidays in the parsonage
+of Addison's father.</p>
+
+<p>The two friends were a little under forty years of age
+when "The Spectator" began in March, 1711. It was a
+penny paper, and was published daily, its predecessor having
+been published three times a week. It began with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span>
+circulation of 3,000 copies, and ran up to about 10,000
+before it stopped its daily issue in December, 1712. Macaulay,
+writing in 1843, insists upon the sale as "indicating
+a popularity quite as great as that of the most successful
+works of Scott and Dickens in our time." The 555
+numbers of the daily issue formed seven volumes; and
+then there was a final eighth volume, made up of triweekly
+issues: a total of 635 numbers, of which Addison
+wrote 274, and Steele 236.</p>
+
+<p>To summarise the contents of these 635 numbers
+would require a volume. They are so versatile and so
+varied. As one of Addison's biographers puts it, to-day
+you have a beautiful meditation, brilliant in imagery and
+serious as a sermon, or a pious discourse on death, or
+perhaps an eloquent and scathing protest against the
+duel; while to-morrow the whole number is perhaps concerned
+with the wigs, ruffles, and shoe-buckles of the
+<em>macaroni</em>, or the hoops, patches, farthingales and tuckers
+of the ladies. If you wish to see the plays and actors
+of the time, "The Spectator" will always show them to
+you; and, moreover, point out the dress, manners, and
+mannerisms, affectations, indecorums, plaudits, or otherwise
+of the frequenters of the theatre.</p>
+
+<p>For here is no newspaper, as we understand the term.
+"The Spectator" from the first indulged his humours
+at the expense of the quidnuncs. Says he:</p>
+
+<p>"There is another set of men that I must likewise lay
+a claim to as being altogether unfurnished with ideas till
+the business and conversation of the day has supplied
+them. I have often considered these poor souls with an
+eye of great commiseration when I have heard them asking
+the first man they have met with whether there was
+any news stirring, and by that means gathering together
+materials for thinking. These needy persons do not know
+what to talk of till about twelve o'clock in the morning;
+for by that time they are pretty good judges of the
+weather, know which way the wind sets, and whether the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span>
+Dutch mail be come in. As they lie at the mercy of the
+first man they meet, and are grave or impertinent all the
+day long, according to the notions which they have imbibed
+in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them not
+to stir out of their chambers till they have read this paper;
+and do promise them that I will daily instil into them
+such sound and wholesome sentiments as shall have a
+good effect on their conversation for the ensuing twelve
+hours."</p>
+
+<p>Now, the essential, or at least the leading feature of
+"The Spectator" is this: that the entertainment is provided
+by an imaginary set of characters forming a Spectator
+Club. The club represents various classes or sections
+of the community, so that through its members a
+corresponding variety of interests and opinions is set before
+the reader, the Spectator himself acting as a sort of
+final censor or referee. Chief among the Club members
+is Sir Roger de Coverley, a simple, kindly, honourable,
+old-world country gentleman. Here is the description of
+this celebrated character:</p>
+
+<p>"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire,
+of ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger
+de Coverley. His great-grandfather was inventor of that
+famous country dance which is called after him. All
+who know that shire are very well acquainted with the
+parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that
+is very singular in his behaviour, but his singularities
+proceed from his good sense, and are contradictions to
+the manners of the world only as he thinks the world is
+in the wrong. However, this humour creates him no
+enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy;
+and his being unconfined to modes and forms makes him
+but the readier and more capable to please and oblige all
+who know him. When he is in town, he lives in Soho
+Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor by reason
+he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of
+the next county to him. Before this disappointment, Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span>
+Roger was what you call a fine gentleman, had often
+supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege,
+fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked
+Bully Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him
+youngster. But being ill-used by the above-mentioned
+widow, he was very serious for a year and a half; and
+though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last got
+over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed
+afterwards. He continues to wear a coat and doublet
+of the same cut that were in fashion at the time of his
+repulse, which, in his merry humours, he tells us, has been
+in and out twelve times since he first wore it. It is said
+Sir Roger grew humble in his desires after he had forgot
+this cruel beauty, insomuch that it is reported he was
+frequently offended with beggars and gipsies; but this is
+looked upon by his friends rather as matter of raillery
+than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful,
+gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and
+country; a great lover of mankind; but there is such a
+mirthful cast in his behaviour that he is rather beloved
+than esteemed."</p>
+
+<p>Then there is Sir Andrew Freeport, "a merchant of
+great eminence in the City of London; a person of indefatigable
+industry, strong reason, and great experience."
+He is "acquainted with commerce in all its parts; and
+will tell you it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend
+dominion by arms; for true power is to be got by arts
+and industry. He will often argue that, if this part of
+our trade were well cultivated, we should gain from one
+nation; and if another, from another."</p>
+
+<p>There is Captain Sentry, too, "a gentleman of great
+courage and understanding, but invincible modesty," who
+in the club speaks for the army, as the templar does for
+taste and learning, and the clergyman for theology and
+philosophy.</p>
+
+<p>And then, that the club may not seem to be unacquainted
+with "the gallantries and pleasures of the age,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span>
+there is Will Honeycomb, the elderly man of fashion, who
+is "very ready at that sort of discourse with which men
+usually entertain women." Will "knows the history of
+every mode, and can inform you from which of the
+French king's wenches our wives and daughters had this
+manner of curling their hair, that way of placing their
+hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort of petticoat;
+and whose vanity to show her foot made that part
+of the dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his
+conversation and knowledge have been in the female
+world. As other men of his age will take notice to you
+what such a minister said upon such and such an occasion,
+he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at
+court, such a woman was then smitten, another was taken
+with him at the head of his troop in the park. This way
+of talking of his very much enlivens the conversation
+among us of a more sedate turn; and I find there is not
+one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all,
+but speaks of him as that sort of man who is usually called
+a well-bred fine gentleman. To conclude his character,
+where women are not concerned, he is an honest, worthy
+man."</p>
+
+<p>Nor must we forget Will Wimble, though he is really
+an outsider. Will is the younger son of a baronet: a man
+of no profession, looking after his father's game, training
+his dogs, shooting, fishing, hunting, making whiplashes
+for his neighbors, knitting garters for the ladies, and
+afterwards slyly inquiring how they wear: a welcome
+guest at every house in the county; beloved by all the lads
+and the children.</p>
+
+<p>Besides these, and others, there is a fine little gallery of
+portraits in Sir Roger's country neighbours and tenants.
+We have, for instance, the yeoman who "knocks down a
+dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week, and by that
+means lives much cheaper than those who have not so
+good an estate as himself"; and we have Moll White, the
+reputed witch, who, if she made a mistake at church and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span>
+cried "Amen!" in a wrong place, "they never failed to
+conclude that she was saying her prayers backwards."
+We have the diverting captain, "young, sound, and impudent";
+we have a demure Quaker; we have Tom
+Touchy, a fellow famous for "taking the law" of everybody;
+and we have the inn-keeper, who, out of compliment
+to Sir Roger, "put him up in a sign-post before the
+door," and then, when Sir Roger objected, changed the
+figure into the Saracen's Head by "a little aggravation
+of the features" and the addition of a pair of whiskers!</p>
+
+<p>Best of all is the old chaplain. Sir Roger was "afraid
+of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table";
+so he got a university friend to "find him out a clergyman,
+rather of plain sense than much learning, of a good
+aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if possible,
+a man that understood a little of backgammon." The
+genial knight "made him a present of all the good sermons
+printed in English, and only begged of him that
+every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the
+pulpit." Thus, if Sir Roger happened to meet his chaplain
+on a Saturday evening, and asked who was to preach
+to-morrow, he would perhaps be answered: "The Bishop
+of St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon."
+About which arrangement "The Spectator"
+boldly observes: "I could heartily wish that more of our
+country clergy would follow this example; and, instead
+of wasting their spirits in laborious compositions of their
+own, would endeavour after a handsome elocution, and
+all those other talents that are proper to enforce what has
+been penned by greater masters. This would not only
+be more easy to themselves, but more edifying to the
+people."</p>
+
+<p>There is no end to the subjects discussed by "The
+Spectator." They range from dreams to dress and duelling;
+from ghosts to gardening and goats' milk; from wigs
+to wine and widows; from religion to riches and riding;
+from servants to sign-posts and snuff-boxes; from love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span>
+to lodgings and lying; from beards to bankruptcy and
+blank verse; and hundreds of other interesting themes.
+Correspondents often wrote to emphasise this variety, for
+letters from the outside public were always welcome.
+Thus one "Thomas Trusty":</p>
+
+<p>"The variety of your subjects surprises me as much as
+a box of pictures did formerly, in which there was only
+one face, that by pulling some pieces of isinglass over it
+was changed into a senator or a merry-andrew, a polished
+lady or a nun, a beau or a blackamoor, a prude or a
+coquette, a country squire or a conjurer, with many other
+different representations very entertaining, though still
+the same at the bottom."</p>
+
+<p>But perhaps, on the whole, woman and her little ways
+have the predominant attention. Indeed, Addison expressly
+avowed this object of engaging the special interests
+of the sex when he started. He says:</p>
+
+<p>"There are none to whom this paper will be more useful
+than to the female world. I have often thought that
+there has not been sufficient pains taken in finding out
+proper employments and diversions for the fair ones.
+Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as they
+are women than as they are reasonable creatures; and are
+more adapted to the sex than to the species. The toilet
+is their great scene of business, and the right adjustment
+of their hair the principal employment of their lives. The
+sorting of a suit of ribands is reckoned a very good morning's
+work; and if they make an excursion to a mercer's
+or a toy-shop, so great a fatigue makes them unfit for
+anything else all the day after. Their more serious occupations
+are sewing and embroidery, and their greatest
+drudgery the preparations of jellies and sweetmeats.
+This, I say, is the state of ordinary women; though I
+know there are multitudes of those of a more elevated
+life and conversation, that move in an exalted sphere of
+knowledge and virtue, that join all the beauties of the
+mind to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span>
+awe and respect, as well as of love, into their male beholders.
+I hope to increase the number of these by publishing
+this daily paper, which I shall always endeavour
+to make an innocent, if not an improving, entertainment,
+and by that means, at least, divert the minds of my female
+readers from greater trifles."</p>
+
+<p>These reflections on the manners of women did not
+quite please Swift, who wrote to Stella: "I will not
+meddle with 'The Spectator'; let him <em>fair sex</em> it to the
+world's end." But they pleased most other people, as
+the main contents of "The Spectator" still please. Here
+is one typical acknowledgment, signed "Leonora":</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Spectator,&mdash;Your paper is part of my tea-equipage; and
+my servant knows my humour so well that, calling for my breakfast
+this morning (it being past my usual hour), she answered,
+"'the Spectator' was not yet come in, but the tea-kettle boiled,
+and she expected it every moment."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>As an "abstract and brief chronicle of the time," this
+monumental work of Addison and Steele is without peer.
+In its pages may be traced the foundations of all that is
+noble and healthy in modern English thought; and its
+charming sketches may be made the open sesame to a
+period and a literature as rich as any our country has seen.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_10"><a name="AESOP" id="AESOP">ÆSOP</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Fables</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>It is in the fitness of things that the early biographies of
+Æsop, the great fabulist, should be entirely fabulous. Macrobius
+has distinguished between <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">fabula</i> and <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">fabulosa narratio</i>:
+"He would have a fable to be absolutely false, and a fabulous
+narration to be a number of fictions built upon a foundation of
+truth." The Lives of Æsop belong chiefly to the latter category.
+In the following pages what is known of the life of
+Æsop is set forth, together with condensed versions of some
+of his most characteristic fables, which have long passed into
+the wisdom of all nations, this being a subject that calls for
+treatment on somewhat different lines from the majority of the
+works dealt with in <span class="smcap">The World's Greatest Books</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>Introductory</i></h4>
+
+<p>Pierre Bayle, in his judicious fashion, sums up what
+is said of Æsop in antiquity, resting chiefly upon Plutarch.
+"Plutarch affirms: (1) That Crœsus sent Æsop
+to Periander, the Tyrant of Corinth, and to the Oracle
+of Delphi; (2) that Socrates found no other expedient
+to obey the God of Dreams, without injuring his profession,
+than to turn the Fables of Æsop into verse; (3)
+that Æsop and Solon were together at the Court of
+Crœsus, King of Lydia; (4) that those of Delphi, having
+put Æsop to death cruelly and unjustly, and finding
+themselves exposed to several calamities on account of
+this injustice, made a public declaration that they were
+ready to make satisfaction to the memory of Æsop; (5)
+that having treated thereupon with a native of Samos,
+they were delivered from the evil that afflicted them."</p>
+
+<p>To this summary Bayle added a footnote concerning
+"The Life of Æsop, composed by Meziriac": "It is a
+little book printed at Bourg-en-Bress, in 1632. It contains
+only forty pages in 16. It is becoming exceedingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span>
+scarce.... This is what I extract from it. It is
+more probable that Æsop was born at Cotiœum, a town
+of Phrygia, than that he was born at Sardis, or in the
+island of Samos, or at Mesembria in Thrace. The first
+master that he served was one Zemarchus, or Demarchus,
+surnamed Carasius, a native and inhabitant of Athens.
+Thus it is probable that it was there he learned the
+purity of the Greek tongue, as in its spring, and acquired
+the knowledge of moral philosophy which was then in
+esteem....</p>
+
+<p>"In process of time he was sold to Xanthus, a native
+of the Isle of Samos, and afterwards to Idmon, or Iadmnon,
+the philosopher, who was a Samian also, and who
+enfranchised him. After he had recovered his liberty,
+he soon acquired a great reputation among the Greeks;
+so that the report of his singular wisdom having reached
+the ears of Crœsus, he sent to inquire after him; and
+having conceived an affection for him, he obliged him by
+his favours to engage himself in his service to the end of
+his life. He travelled through Greece&mdash;whether for his
+own pleasure or for the private affairs of Crœsus is uncertain&mdash;and
+passing by Athens, soon after Pisistratus
+had usurped the sovereign power there and had abolished
+the popular state, and seeing that the Athenians bore the
+yoke very impatiently, he told them the Fable of the
+Frogs that asked a King of Jupiter. Afterwards he met
+the Seven Wise Men in the City of Corinth at the Tyrant
+Periander's. Some relate that, in order to show that the
+life of man is full of miseries, and that one pleasure is
+attended with a thousand pains, Æsop used to say that
+when Prometheus took the clay to form man, he did not
+temper it with water, but with tears."</p>
+
+<p>Concerning the death of this extraordinary man we
+read that Æsop went to Delphi, with a great quantity of
+gold and silver, being ordered by Crœsus to offer a great
+sacrifice to Apollo, and to give a considerable sum to
+each inhabitant. The quarrel which arose between the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>
+Delphians and him was the occasion, after his sending
+away the sacrifice, of his sending back the money to
+Crœsus; for he thought that those for whom this prince
+designed it had rendered themselves unworthy of it.
+The inhabitants of Delphi contrived an accusation of
+sacrilege against him, and, pretending that they had convicted
+him, cast him down from the top of a rock.</p>
+
+<p>Bayle has a long line of centuries at his back when he
+says: "Æsop's lectures against the faults of men were
+the fullest of good sense and wit that can be imagined."
+He substantiates this affirmation in the following manner:
+"Can any inventions be more happy than the images
+Æsop made use of to instruct mankind? They are exceedingly
+fit for children, and no less proper for grown
+persons; they are all that is necessary to perfect a precept
+&mdash;I mean the mixture of the useful with the agreeable."
+He then quotes Aulus Gellius as saying: "Æsop
+the Phrygian fabulist was not without reason esteemed
+to be wise, since he did not, after the manner of the philosophers,
+severely and imperiously command such things
+as were fit to be advised and persuaded, but by feigning,
+diverting and entertaining apologues, he insinuates good
+and wholesome advice into the minds of men with a
+kind of willing attention."</p>
+
+<p>Bayle continues: "At all times these have been made
+to succeed the homespun stories of nurses. 'Let them
+learn to tell the Fables of Æscop, which succeed the stories
+of the nursery, in pure and easy style, and afterwards
+endeavour to write in the same familiar manner.' They
+have never fallen into contempt. Our age, notwithstanding
+its pride and delicacy, esteems and admires them, and
+shows them in a hundred different shapes. The inimitable
+La Fontaine has procured them in our time a great
+deal of honour and glory; and great commendations are
+given to the reflections of an English wit, Sir Roger
+L'Estrange, on these very fables."</p>
+
+<p>Since the period when Pierre Bayle composed his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span>
+great biographical dictionary, the Fables of Æsop have
+perhaps suffered something of a relapse in the favour of
+grown persons; but if one may judge from the number
+of new editions illustrated for children, they are still the
+delight of modern nurseries. There is this, however, to
+be said of contemporary times&mdash;that the multitude of
+books in a nursery prevent children from acquiring the
+profound and affectionate acquaintance with Æsop which
+every child would naturally get when his fables were
+almost the only book provided by the Press for juvenile
+readers.</p>
+
+<p>It is questionable whether the fables will any longer
+produce the really deep effect which they certainly have
+had in the past. But we may be certain that some of them
+will always play a great part in the wisdom of the common
+people, and that these particularly true and striking
+apologues are secure of an eternal place in the literature
+of nations. As an example of what we mean, we will
+tell as simply as possible some of the most characteristic
+fables.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Dog and the Shadow</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Dog, with a piece of stolen meat between his teeth,
+was one day crossing a river by means of a plank, when
+he caught sight of another dog in the water carrying a far
+larger piece of meat. He opened his jaws to snap at the
+greater morsel, when the meat dropped in the stream
+and was lost even in the reflection.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Dying Lion</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Lion, brought to the extremity of weakness by old
+age and disease, lay dying in the sunlight. Those whom
+he had oppressed in his strength now came round about
+him to revenge themselves for past injuries. The Boar
+ripped the flank of the King of Beasts with his tusks.
+The Bull came and gored the Lion's sides with his horns.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>
+Finally, the Ass drew near, and after carefully seeing that
+there was no danger, let fly with his heels in the Lion's
+face. Then, with a dying groan, the mighty creature
+exclaimed: "How much worse it is than a thousand
+deaths to be spurned by so base a creature!"</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Mountain in Labour</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Mountain was heard to produce dreadful sounds,
+as though it were labouring to bring forth something
+enormous. The people came and stood about waiting to
+see what wonderful thing would be produced from this
+labour. After they had waited till they were tired, out
+crept a Mouse.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Hercules and the Waggoner</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Waggoner was driving his team through a muddy
+lane when the wheels stuck fast in the clay, and the
+Horses could get no farther. The Man immediately
+dropped on his knees, and, crying bitterly, besought Hercules
+to come and help him. "Get up and stir thyself,
+thou lazy fellow!" replied Hercules. "Whip thy Horses,
+and put thy shoulder to the wheel. If thou art in need
+of my help, when thou thyself hast laboured, then shalt
+thou have it."</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Frogs that Asked for a King</i></h4>
+
+<p>The Frogs, who lived an easy, happy life in the ponds,
+once prayed to Jupiter that he should give them a King.
+Jupiter was amused by this prayer, and cast a log into
+the water, saying: "There, then, is a King for you."
+The Frogs, frightened by the great splash, regarded their
+King with alarm, until at last, seeing that he did not stir,
+some of them jumped upon his back and began to be
+merry there, amused at such a foolish King. However,
+King Log did not satisfy their ideas for very long, and
+so once again they petitioned Jupiter to send them a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span>
+King, a real King who would rule over them, and not lie
+helpless in the water. Then Jupiter sent the Frogs a
+Stork, who caught them by their legs, tossed them in the
+air, and gobbled them up whenever he was hungry. All
+in a hurry the Frogs besought Jupiter to take away King
+Stork and restore them to their former happy condition.
+"No, no," answered Jupiter; "a King that did you no
+hurt did not please you; make the best of him you now
+have, lest a worse come in his place!"</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Gnat and the Lion</i></h4>
+
+<p>A lively and insolent Gnat was bold enough to attack
+a Lion, which he so maddened by stinging the most sensitive
+parts of his nose, eyes and ears that the beast roared
+with anguish and tore himself with his claws. In vain
+were the Lion's efforts to rid himself of his insignificant
+tormentor; again and again the insect returned and
+stung the furious King of Beasts, till at last the Lion fell
+exhausted on the ground. The triumphant Gnat, sounding
+his tiny trumpet, hovered over the spot exulting in
+his victory. But it happened that in his circling flight
+he got himself caught in the web of a Spider, which,
+fine and delicate as it was, yet had power enough to hold
+the tiny insect a prisoner. All the Gnat's efforts to escape
+only held him the more tightly and firmly a prisoner, and
+he who had conquered the Lion became in his turn the
+prey of the Spider.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Wolf and the Stork</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Wolf ate his food so greedily that a bone stuck in
+his throat. This caused him such great pain that he ran
+hither and thither, promising to reward handsomely
+anyone who would remove the cause of his torture. A
+Stork, moved with pity by the Wolf's cry of pain, and
+tempted also by the reward, undertook the dangerous
+operation. When he had removed the bone, the Wolf<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span>
+moved away, but the Stork called out and reminded him
+of the promised reward. "Reward!" exclaimed the
+Wolf. "Pray, you greedy fellow, what reward can you
+expect? You dared to put your head in my mouth,
+and instead of biting it off, I let you take it out again
+unharmed. Get away with you! And do not again place
+yourself in my power."</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Frog who Wanted to Be as Big as an Ox</i></h4>
+
+<p>A vain Frog, surrounded by her children, looked up
+and saw an Ox grazing near by. "I can be as big as the
+Ox," she said, and began to blow herself out. "Am I as
+big now?" she inquired. "Oh, no; not nearly so big!"
+said the little frogs. "Now?" she asked, blowing herself
+out still more. "No, not nearly so big!" answered
+her children. "But now?" she inquired eagerly, and
+blew herself out still more. "No, not even now," they
+said; "and if you try till you burst yourself you will
+never be so big." But the Frog would not listen, and
+attempting to make herself bigger still, burst her skin
+and died.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Dog in the Manger</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Dog lay in a manger which was full of hay. An
+Ox, being hungry, came near, and was about to eat when
+the Dog started up, and, with angry snarls, would not
+let the Ox approach. "Surly brute," said the Ox; "you
+cannot eat the hay yourself, and you will let no one else
+have any."</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Bundle of Faggots</i></h4>
+
+<p>An honest Man had the unhappiness to have a quarrelsome
+family of children. One day he called them before
+him, and bade them try to break a bundle of faggots.
+All tried, and all failed. "Now," said he, "unbind the
+bundle and take every stick by itself, and see if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span>
+cannot break them." They did his bidding, and snapped
+all the sticks one by one with the greatest possible ease.
+"This, my children," said the Father at last, "is a true
+emblem of your condition. Keep together and you are
+safe, divide and you are undone."</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Fox Without a Tail</i></h4>
+
+<p>A Fox was once caught in a trap by his tail, and in
+order to get free was obliged to leave it behind. He
+knew that his fellows would make fun of his tailless
+condition, so he made up his mind to induce them all to
+part with their tails. At the next assemblage of Foxes he
+made a speech on the uselessness of tails in general, and
+the inconvenience of a Fox's tail in particular, declaring
+that never in his whole life had he felt so comfortable
+as now in his tailless freedom. When he sat down, a
+sly old Fox rose, and, waving his brush, said, with a
+sneer, that if he had lost his tail, he would be convinced
+by the last speaker's arguments, but until such an accident
+occurred he fully intended to vote in favour of
+tails.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Blind Man and the Paralytic</i></h4>
+
+<p>A blind man finding himself stopped in a rough and
+difficult road, met with a paralytic and begged his assistance.
+"How can I help you," replied the paralytic,
+"when I can scarcely move myself along?" But, regarding
+the blind man, he added: "However, you appear
+to have good legs and a broad back, and, if you will lift
+me and carry me, I will guide you safely through this
+difficulty, which is more than each one can surmount for
+himself. You shall walk for me, and I will see for you."
+"With all my heart," rejoined the blind man; and, taking
+the paralytic on his shoulders, the two went cheerfully
+forward in a wise partnership which triumphed over all
+difficulties.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_18"><a name="MATTHEW_ARNOLD" id="MATTHEW_ARNOLD">MATTHEW ARNOLD</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Essays in Criticism</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Matthew Arnold, son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby (see Vol. X,
+p. 260), was born on December 24, 1822, and died on April 15,
+1888. He was by everyday calling an inspector of schools and
+an educational expert, but by nature and grace a poet, a philosopher,
+a man of piety and of letters. Arnold almost ceased
+to write verse when he was forty-five, though not without
+having already produced some of the choicest poetry in the English
+language. Before that he had developed his theories of
+literary criticism in his "Essays in Criticism"; and about the
+time of his withdrawal from Oxford he published "Culture
+and Anarchy," in which his system of philosophy is broadly
+outlined. Later, in "St. Paul and Protestantism," "Literature
+and Dogma" and "God and the Bible," he tried to adjust
+Christianity according to the light of modern knowledge. In
+his "Lectures on Translating Homer," he had expressed views
+on criticism and its importance that were new to, and so were
+somewhat adversely discussed by the Press. Whereupon, in 1865,
+with a militant joy, he re-entered the fray and defined the province
+of criticism in the first of a series of "Essays in Criticism,"
+showing the narrowness of the British conception. "The Literary
+Influence of Academies" was a subject that enabled him to
+make a further comparison between the literary genius of the
+French and of the English people, and a number of individual
+critiques that followed only enhanced his great and now undisputed
+position both as a poet and as a critic. The argument
+of the two general essays is given here.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Creative Power and Critical Power</i></h4>
+
+<p>Many objections have been made to a proposition of
+mine about criticism: "Of the literature of France and
+Germany, as of the intellect of Europe in general, the
+main effort, for now many years, has been a critical
+effort&mdash;the endeavour, in all branches of knowledge, to
+see the object as in itself it really is." I added that
+"almost the last thing for which one would come to
+English literature was just that very thing which now
+Europe most desired&mdash;criticism," and that the power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>
+and value of English literature were thereby impaired.
+More than one rejoinder declared that the importance
+here again assigned to criticism was excessive, and asserted
+the inherent superiority of the creative effort of the
+human spirit over its critical effort. A reporter of
+Wordsworth's conversation quotes a judgment to the
+same effect: "Wordsworth holds the critical power very
+low; indeed, infinitely lower than the inventive."</p>
+
+<p>The critical power is of lower rank than the inventive&mdash;true;
+but, in assenting to this proposition, we must
+keep in mind that men may have the sense of exercising
+a free creative activity in other ways than in producing
+great works of literature or art; and that the exercise of
+the creative power in the production of great works of
+literature or art is not at all epochs and under all conditions
+possible. This creative power works with elements,
+with materials&mdash;what if it has not those materials ready
+for its use? Now, in literature, the elements with which
+creative power works are ideas&mdash;the best ideas on every
+matter which literature touches, current at the time. The
+grand work of literary genius is a work of synthesis and
+exposition; its gift lies in the faculty of being happily
+inspired by a certain intellectual and spiritual atmosphere,
+by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself in them;
+of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in
+most effective and attractive combinations, making beautiful
+works with them, in short. But it must have the
+atmosphere, it must find itself amidst the order of the
+ideas, in order to work freely; and these it is not so
+easy to command. This is really why great creative
+epochs in literature are so rare&mdash;because, for the creation
+of a master-work of literature two powers must concur,
+the power of the man and the power of the moment;
+and the man is not enough without the moment.</p>
+
+<p>The creative power has for its happy exercise appointed
+elements, and those elements are not in its control.
+Nay, they are more within the control of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span>
+critical power. It is the business of the critical power
+in all branches of knowledge to see the object as in
+itself it really is. Thus it tends at last to make an intellectual
+situation of which the creative power can avail
+itself. It tends to establish an order of ideas, if not
+absolutely true, yet true by comparison with that which
+it displaces&mdash;to make the best ideas prevail. Presently
+these new ideas reach society; the touch of truth is the
+touch of life; and there is a stir and growth everywhere.
+Out of this stir and growth come the creative epochs of
+literature.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Literary "Atmosphere"</i></h4>
+
+<p>It has long seemed to me that the burst of creative
+activity in our literature through the first quarter of the
+nineteenth century had about it something premature,
+and for this cause its productions are doomed to prove
+hardly more lasting than the productions of far less
+splendid epochs. And this prematureness comes from its
+having proceeded without having its proper data, without
+sufficient materials to work with. In other words,
+the English poetry of the first quarter of the nineteenth
+century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force,
+did not know enough. This makes Byron so empty of
+matter, Shelley so incoherent, Wordsworth, profound as
+he is, so wanting in completeness and variety.</p>
+
+<p>It was not really books and reading that lacked to our
+poetry at this epoch. Shelley had plenty of reading,
+Coleridge had immense reading; Pindar and Sophocles
+had not many books; Shakespeare was no deep reader.
+True; but in the Greece of Pindar and Sophocles and the
+England of Shakespeare the poet lived in a current of
+ideas in the highest degree animating and nourishing to
+creative power.</p>
+
+<p>Such an atmosphere the many-sided learning and the
+long and widely combined critical effort of Germany<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span>
+formed for Goethe when he lived and worked. In the
+England of the first quarter of the nineteenth century
+there was neither a national glow of life and thought,
+such as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet a force
+of learning and criticism, such as was to be found in
+Germany. The creative power of poetry wanted, for
+success in the highest sense, materials and a basis&mdash;a
+thorough interpretation of the world was necessarily
+denied to it.</p>
+
+<p>At first it seems strange that out of the immense stir
+of the French Revolution and its age should not have
+come a crop of works of genius equal to that which
+came out of the stir of the great productive time of
+Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its powerful
+episode of the Reformation. But the truth is that
+the stir of the French Revolution took a character which
+essentially distinguished it from such movements as
+these. The French Revolution found, undoubtedly, its
+motive power in the intelligence of men, and not in their
+practical sense. It appeals to an order of ideas which are
+universal, certain, permanent. The year 1789 asked of
+a thing: Is it rational? That a whole nation should have
+been penetrated with an enthusiasm for pure reason is a
+very remarkable thing when we consider how little of
+mind, or anything so worthy or quickening as mind,
+comes into the motives which in general impel great
+masses of men. In spite of the crimes and follies in
+which it lost itself, the French Revolution derives, from
+the force, truth and universality of the ideas which it
+took for its law, a unique and still living power; and it
+is, and will probably long remain, the greatest, the most
+animating event in history.</p>
+
+<p>But the mania for giving an immediate political and
+practical application to all these fine ideas of the reason
+was fatal. Here an Englishman is in his element: on
+this theme we can all go on for hours. Ideas cannot be
+too much prized in and for themselves, cannot be too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span>
+much lived with; but to transport them abruptly into the
+world of politics and practice, violently to revolutionise
+this world to their bidding&mdash;that is quite another thing.
+"Force and right are the governors of the world; force
+till right is ready" Joubert has said. The grand error
+of the French Revolution was that it set at naught the
+second great half of that maxim&mdash;force till right is
+ready&mdash;and, rushing furiously into the political sphere,
+created in opposition to itself what I may call an epoch of
+concentration.</p>
+
+<p>The great force of that epoch of concentration was
+England, and the great voice of that epoch of concentration
+was Burke. I will not deny that his writings are
+often disfigured by the violence and passion of the
+moment, and that in some directions Burke's view was
+bounded and his observations therefore at fault; but for
+those who can make the needful corrections what distinguishes
+these writings is their profound, permanent,
+fruitful, philosophical truth&mdash;they contain the true philosophy
+of an epoch of concentration. Now, an epoch of
+expansion seems to be opening in this country. In spite
+of the absorbing and brutalising influence of our passionate
+material progress, this progress is likely to lead in
+the end to an apparition of intellectual life. It is of
+the last importance that English criticism should discern
+what rule it ought to take, to avail itself of the field now
+opening to it. That rule may be summed up in one word&mdash;disinterestedness.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Virtue of Detachment</i></h4>
+
+<p>How is criticism to show disinterestedness? By keeping
+aloof from practice; by resolutely following the law
+of its own nature, which is to be a free play of the mind
+on all subjects which it touches. Its business is simply to
+know the best that is known and thought in the world,
+and by making this known to create a current of fresh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>
+and true ideas. What is at present the bane of criticism
+in this country? It is that our organs of criticism are
+organs of men and parties having practical ends to serve,
+and with them those practical ends are the first thing,
+and the play of the mind the second&mdash;so much play of
+mind as is compatible with the prosecution of these practical
+ends is all that is wanted.</p>
+
+<p>An organ like the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Revue des Deux Mondes</i>, existing
+as just an organ for a free play of mind, we have not;
+but we have the "Edinburgh Review," existing as an
+organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play of mind
+as may suit its being that; we have the "Quarterly Review,"
+existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as
+much play of mind as may suit its being that; we have
+the "British Quarterly Review," existing as an organ
+of the political Dissenters, and for as much play of mind
+as may suit its being that; we have "The Times," existing
+as an organ of the common, satisfied, well-to-do
+Englishman, and for as much play of mind as may suit
+its being that. And so on through all the various fractions,
+political and religious, of our society&mdash;every fraction
+has, as such, its organ of criticism, but the notion of
+combining all fractions in the common pleasure of a free,
+disinterested play of mind meets with no favour. Yet
+no other criticism will ever attain any real authority, or
+make any real way towards its end&mdash;the creating of a
+current of true and fresh ideas.</p>
+
+<p>It will be said that, by embracing in this manner the
+Indian virtue of detachment, criticism condemns itself to
+a slow and obscure work; but it is the only proper work
+of criticism. Whoever sets himself to see things as they
+are will find himself one of a very small circle; but it is
+only by this small circle resolutely doing its work that
+adequate ideas will ever get current at all. For the practical
+man is not apt for fine distinctions, and yet in these
+distinctions truth and the highest culture greatly find
+their account. To act is so easy, as Goethe says, and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>
+think is so hard. Criticism must maintain its independence
+of the practical spirit and its aims. Even with
+well meant efforts of the practical spirit it must express
+dissatisfaction if, in the sphere of the ideal, they seem
+impoverishing and limiting. It must be apt to study and
+praise elements that for the fulness of spiritual perfection
+are wanted, even though they belong to a power
+which, in the practical sphere, may be maleficent. It must
+be apt to discern the spiritual shortcomings of powers
+that in the practical sphere may be beneficent.</p>
+
+<p>By the very nature of things much of the best that
+is known and thought in the world cannot be of English
+growth&mdash;must be foreign; by the nature of things, again,
+it is just this that we are least likely to know, while English
+thought is streaming in upon us from all sides, and
+takes excellent care that we shall not be ignorant of its
+existence. The English critic must dwell much on foreign
+thought, and with particular heed on any part of it,
+which, while significant and fruitful in itself, is for any
+reason specially likely to escape him.</p>
+
+<p>Again, judging is often spoken of as the critic's business;
+and so in some sense it is. But the judgment which
+almost insensibly forms itself in a fair and clear mind,
+along with fresh knowledge, is the valuable one; and,
+therefore, knowledge, and ever fresh knowledge, must
+be the critic's great concern for himself. And it is by
+communicating fresh knowledge, and letting his own
+judgment pass along with it&mdash;as a sort of companion
+and clue&mdash;that he will generally do most good to his
+readers.</p>
+
+<p>To get near the standard of the best that is known and
+thought in the world, every critic should possess one great
+literature at least beside his own; and the more unlike
+his own the better. For the criticism I am concerned
+with regards Europe as being for intellectual and spiritual
+purposes one great confederation, bound to a joint
+action and working to a common result.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span>
+I conclude with what I said at the beginning. To have
+the sense of creative activity is not denied to criticism;
+but then criticism must be sincere, simple, flexible, ardent,
+ever widening its knowledge. Then it may have, in no
+contemptible measure, a joyful sense of creative activity,
+a sense which a man of insight and conscience will prefer
+to that he might derive from a poor, starved, fragmentary,
+inadequate creation. And at some epochs no other
+creation is possible. Still, in full measure, the sense of
+creative activity belongs only to genuine creation; in literature
+we must never forget that. But what true man of
+letters ever can forget it? It is no such common matter
+for a gifted nature to come into possession of a current of
+true and living ideas, and to produce amidst the inspiration
+of them, that we are likely to underrate it. The
+glorious epochs of Æschylus and Shakespeare make us
+feel their pre-eminence. In an epoch like those is the
+true life of literature; there is the promised land towards
+which criticism can only beckon.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Should We Have an Academy?</i></h4>
+
+<p>It is impossible to put down a book like the history of
+the French Academy by Pellisson and D'Olivet without
+being led to reflect upon the absence in our own country
+of any institution like the French Academy, upon the
+probable causes of this absence, and upon its results.
+Improvement of the language was the declared grand
+aim for the operations of that academy. Its statutes of
+foundation say expressly that "the Academy's principal
+function shall be to work with all the care and all the
+diligence possible at giving sure rules to our language,
+and rendering it pure, eloquent and capable of treating
+the arts and sciences." It is said that Richelieu had it
+in his mind that French should succeed Latin in its general
+ascendancy, as Latin had succeeded Greek. If it
+were so, even this wish has to some extent been fulfilled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>
+This was not all Richelieu had in his mind, however.
+The new academy was meant to be a literary tribunal, a
+high court of letters, and this is what it has really been.</p>
+
+<p>Such an effort, to set up a recognised authority, imposing
+on us a high standard in matters of intellect and
+taste, has many enemies in human nature. We all of us
+like to go our own way, and not to be forced out of the
+atmosphere of commonplace habitual to most of us. We
+like to be suffered to lie comfortably on the old straw
+of our habits, especially of our intellectual habits, even
+though this straw may not be very fine and clean. But
+if this effort to limit the freedom of our lower nature
+finds enemies in human nature, it also finds auxiliaries
+in it. Man alone of living creatures, says Cicero, goes
+feeling after the discovery of an order, a law of good
+taste; other creatures submissively fulfil the law of their
+nature.</p>
+
+<p>Now in France, says M. Sainte-Beuve, "the first consideration
+for us is not whether we are amused and
+pleased by a work of art or of mind, or is it whether we
+are touched by it. What we seek above all to learn is
+whether we were right in being amused with it, and in
+applauding it, and in being moved by it." A Frenchman
+has, to a considerable degree, what one may call a conscience
+in intellectual matters. Seeing this, we are on
+the road to see why the French have their Academy and
+we have nothing of the kind.</p>
+
+<p>What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of
+our nation? Our greatest admirers would not claim for
+us an open and clear mind, a quick and flexible intelligence.
+Rather would they allege as our chief spiritual
+characteristics energy and honesty&mdash;most important and
+fruitful qualities in the intellectual and spiritual, as in
+the moral sphere, for, of what we call genius, energy is
+the most essential part. Now, what that energy, which
+is the life of genius, above everything demands and insists
+upon, is freedom&mdash;entire independence of authority,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span>
+prescription and routine, the fullest power to extend as
+it will. Therefore, a nation whose chief spiritual characteristic
+is energy will not be very apt to set up in
+intellectual matters a fixed standard, an authority like an
+academy. By this it certainly escapes real inconveniences
+and dangers, and it can, at the same time, reach
+undeniably splendid heights in poetry and science. We
+have Shakespeare, and we have Newton. In the intellectual
+sphere there can be no higher names.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, some of the requisites of intellectual
+work are specially the affair of quickness of mind
+and flexibility of intelligence. In prose literature they
+are of first-rate importance. These are elements that
+can, to a certain degree, be appropriated, while the free
+activity of genius cannot. Academies consecrate and
+maintain them, and therefore a nation with an eminent
+turn for them naturally establishes academies.</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;Our Loss Through Provinciality</i></h4>
+
+<p>How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose!
+How much better do the productions of its spirit show in
+the qualities of genius than in the qualities of intelligence!
+But the question as to the utility of academies to the intellectual
+life of a nation is not settled when we say that
+we have never had an academy, yet we have, confessedly,
+a very great literature. It is by no means sure that either
+our literature or the general intellectual life of our nation
+has got already without academies all that academies can
+give. Our literature, in spite of the genius manifested
+in it, may fall short in form, method, precision, proportions,
+arrangement&mdash;all things where intelligence proper
+comes in. It may be weak in prose, full of haphazard,
+crudeness, provincialism, eccentricity, violence, blundering;
+and instead of always fixing our thoughts upon the
+points in which our literature is strong, we should, from
+time to time, fix them upon those in which it is weak.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>
+In France, the Academy serves as a sort of centre and
+rallying-point to educated opinion, and gives it a force
+which it has not got here. In the bulk of the intellectual
+work of a nation which has no centre, no
+intellectual metropolis like an academy, there is observable
+a note of provinciality. Great powers of mind will
+make a man think profoundly, but not even great powers
+of mind will keep his taste and style perfectly sound and
+sure if he is left too much to himself with no sovereign
+organ of opinion near him.</p>
+
+<p>Even men like Jeremy Taylor and Burke suffer here.
+Theirs is too often extravagant prose; prose too much
+suffered to indulge its caprices; prose at too great a distance
+from the centre of good taste; prose with the note
+of provinciality; Asiatic prose, somewhat barbarously
+rich and overloaded. The note of provinciality in Addison
+is to be found in the commonplace of his ideas, though
+his style is classical. Where there is no centre like an
+academy, if you have genius and powerful ideas, you are
+apt not to have the best style going; if you have precision
+of style and not genius, you are apt not to have the best
+ideas going.</p>
+
+<p>The provincial spirit exaggerates the value of its ideas
+for want of a high standard at hand by which to try them;
+it is hurried away by fancies; it likes and dislikes too
+passionately, too exclusively; its admiration weeps hysterical
+tears, and its disapprobation foams at the mouth.
+So we get the eruptive and aggressive manner in literature.
+Not having the lucidity of a large and centrally-placed
+intelligence, the provincial spirit has not its graciousness;
+it does not persuade, it makes war; it has not
+urbanity, the tone of the city, of the centre, the tone that
+always aims at a spiritual and intellectual effect. It loves
+hard-hitting rather than persuading. The newspaper,
+with its party spirit, its resolute avoidance of shades and
+distinctions, is its true literature. In England there
+needs a miracle of genius like Shakespeare to produce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>
+balance of mind, and a miracle of intellectual delicacy
+like Dr. Newman's to produce urbanity of style.</p>
+
+<p>The reader will ask for some practical conclusion about
+the establishment of an academy in this country, and
+perhaps I shall hardly give him the one he expects. Nations
+have their own modes of acting, and these modes
+are not easily changed; they are even consecrated when
+great things have been done in them. When a literature
+has produced a Shakespeare and a Milton, when it has
+even produced a Barrow and a Burke, it cannot well
+abandon its traditions; it can hardly begin at this late
+time of day with an institution like the French Academy.
+An academy quite like the French Academy, a sovereign
+organ of the highest literary opinion, a recognised authority
+in matters of intellectual tone and taste, we shall
+hardly have, and perhaps ought not to wish to have.
+But then every one amongst us with any turn for literature
+at all will do well to remember to what shortcomings
+and excesses, which such an academy tends to correct, we
+are liable, and the more liable, of course, for not having
+it. He will do well constantly to try himself in respect of
+these, steadily to widen his culture, and severely to check
+in himself the provincial spirit.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;Some Illustrative Criticisms</i></h4>
+
+<p>To try and approach Truth on one side after another,
+not to strive or cry, not to persist in pressing forward on
+any one side with violence and self-will&mdash;it is only thus
+that mortals may hope to gain any vision of the mysterious
+goddess whom we shall never see except in outline.</p>
+
+<p>The grand power of poetry is the power of dealing
+with things so as to awaken in us a wonderfully full,
+new and intimate sense of them and of our relation with
+them, so that we feel ourselves to be in contact with the
+essential nature of those objects, to have their secret,
+and be in harmony with them, and this feeling calms and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>
+satisfies us as no other can. Maurice de Guérin manifested
+this magical power of poetry in singular eminence.
+His passion for perfection disdained all poetical work that
+was not perfectly adequate and felicitous.</p>
+
+<p>His sister Eugénie de Guérin has the same characteristic
+quality&mdash;distinction. Of this quality the world is
+impatient; it chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates
+it, but ends by receiving its influence and by undergoing
+its law. This quality at last inexorably corrects the
+world's blunders, and fixes the world's ideals.</p>
+
+<p>Heine claimed that he was "a brave soldier in the war
+of the liberation of humanity." That was his significance.
+He was, if not pre-eminently a brave, yet a
+brilliant soldier in the war of liberation of humanity.
+He was not an adequate interpreter of the modern world,
+but only a brilliant soldier.</p>
+
+<p>Born in 1754, and dying in 1824, Joseph Joubert chose
+to hide his life; but he was a man of extraordinary
+ardour in the search for truth and of extraordinary fineness
+in the perception of it. He was one of those
+wonderful lovers of light who, when they have an idea to
+put forth, brood long over it first, and wait patiently till
+it shines.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_31"><a name="GEORGE_BRANDES" id="GEORGE_BRANDES">GEORGE BRANDES</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Main Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>George Brandes was born in Copenhagen on February 4,
+1842, and was educated at the University of Copenhagen. The
+appearance of his "Æsthetic Studies" in 1868 established his
+reputation among men of letters of all lands. His criticism received
+a philosophic bent from his study of John Stuart Mill,
+Comte, and Renan. Complaint is often made of the bias exhibited
+by Brandes in his works, which is somewhat of a blemish
+on the breadth of his judgment. This bias finds its chief expression
+in his anti-clericalism. His publications number thirty-three
+volumes, and include works on history, literature, and criticism.
+He has written studies of Shakespeare, of Lord Beaconsfield,
+of Ibsen, and of Ferdinand Lassalle. His greatest work is
+the "Main Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century."
+The field covered is so vast that any attempted synopsis
+of the volume is impossible here, so in this place we merely
+indicate the scope of Brandes's monumental work, and state his
+general conclusions.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>The Man and the Book</i></h4>
+
+<p>This remarkable essay in literary criticism is limited
+to the first half of the nineteenth century; it concludes
+with the historical turning-point of 1848. Within this
+period the author discovers, first, a reaction against the
+literature of the eighteenth century; and then, the vanquishment
+of that reaction. Or, in other words, there is
+first a fading away and disappearance of the ideas and
+feelings of the preceding century, and then a return of
+the ideas of progress in new and higher waves.</p>
+
+<p>"Literary history is, in its profoundest significance,
+psychology, the study, the history of the soul"; and
+literary criticism is, with our author, nothing less than
+the interior history of peoples. Whether we happen to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span>
+agree or to disagree with his personal sympathies, which
+lie altogether with liberalism and whether his interpretation
+of these complex movements be accepted or rejected
+by future criticism, it is at least unquestionable
+that his estimate of his science is the right one, and that
+his method is the right one, and that no one stands beside
+Brandes as an exponent.</p>
+
+<p>The historical movement of the years 1800 to 1848 is
+here likened to a drama, of which six different literary
+groups represent the six acts. The first three acts incorporate
+the reaction against progress and liberty. They
+are, first, the French Emigrant Literature, inspired by
+Rousseau; secondly, the semi-Catholic Romantic school
+of Germany, wherein the reaction has separated itself
+more thoroughly from the contemporary struggle for
+liberty, and has gained considerably in depth and vigour;
+and, thirdly, the militant and triumphant reaction as
+shown in Joseph de Maistre, Lamennais, Lamartine and
+Victor Hugo, standing out for pope and monarch. The
+drama of reaction has here come to its climax; and the
+last three acts are to witness its fall, and the revival, in
+its place, of the ideas of liberty and of progress.</p>
+
+<p>"It is one man, Byron, who produces the revulsion in
+the great drama." And Byron and his English contemporaries,
+Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, Keats and
+Shelley, hold the stage in the fourth act, "Naturalism in
+England." The fifth act belongs to the Liberal movement
+in France, the "French Romantic School," including
+the names of Lamennais, Lamartine and Hugo in
+their second phase; and also those of De Musset and
+George Sand. The movement passes from France into
+"Young Germany," where the sixth act is played by
+Heine, Ruge, Feuerbach and others; and the ardent
+revolutionary writers of France and of Germany together
+prepare for the great political transformation of 1848.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;The Emigrant Literature</i></h4>
+
+<p>At the beginning of our period, France was subjected
+to two successive tyrannies: those, namely, of the Convention
+and of the Empire, both of which suppressed all
+independent thought and literature. Writers were, perforce,
+emigrants beyond the frontiers of French power,
+and were, one and all, in opposition to the Reign of
+Terror, or to the Napoleonic tyranny, or to both; one
+and all they were looking forward to the new age which
+should come.</p>
+
+<p>There was, therefore, a note of expectancy in this
+emigrant literature, which had also the advantage of real
+knowledge, gained in long exile, of foreign lands and
+peoples. Although it reacts against the dry and narrow
+rationalism of the eighteenth century, it is not as yet a
+complete reaction against the Liberalism of that period;
+the writers of the emigrant group are still ardent in the
+cause of Liberty. They are contrary to the spirit of
+Voltaire; but they are all profoundly influenced by
+Rousseau.</p>
+
+<p>Chateaubriand's romances, "Atala" and "René,"
+Rousseau's "The New Héloïse" and Goethe's "Werther"
+are the subjects of studies which lead our critic
+to a consideration of that new spiritual condition of
+which they are the indications. "All the spiritual
+maladies," he says, "which make their appearance at this
+time may be regarded as the products of two great events&mdash;the
+emancipation of the individual and the emancipation
+of thought."</p>
+
+<p>Every career now lies open, potentially, to the individual.
+His opportunities, and therefore his desires, but
+not his powers, have become boundless; and "inordinate
+desire is always accompanied by inordinate melancholy."
+His release from the old order, which limited his importance,
+has set him free for self-idolatry; the old laws<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span>
+have broken down, and everything now seems permissible.
+He no longer feels himself part of a whole; he
+feels himself to be a little world which reflects the great
+world. The belief in the saving power of enlightenment
+had been rudely shaken, and the minds of men were
+confused like an army which receives contradictory
+orders in the midst of a battle. Sénancour, Nodier and
+Benjamin Constant have left us striking romances picturing
+the human spirit in this dilemma; they show also
+a new feeling for Nature, new revelations of subjectivity,
+and new ideas of womanhood and of passion.</p>
+
+<p>But of the emigrant literature Madame de Staël is the
+chief and central figure. The lawless savagery of the
+Revolution did not weaken her fidelity to personal and
+political freedom. "She wages war with absolutism
+in the state and hypocrisy in society. She teaches her
+countrymen to appreciate the characteristics and literature
+of the neighbouring nations; she breaks down with
+her own hands the wall of self-sufficiency with which
+victorious France had surrounded itself. Barante, with
+his perspective view of eighteenth-century France, only
+continues and completes her work."</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Romantic School in Germany</i></h4>
+
+<p>German Romanticism continues the growing reaction
+against the eighteenth century; yet, though it is essentially
+reaction, it is not mere reaction, but contains the
+seeds of a new development. It is intellectual, poetical,
+philosophical and full of real life.</p>
+
+<p>This literary period, marked by the names of Hölderlin,
+A.&nbsp;W. Schlegel, Tieck, Jean Paul Richter,
+Schleiermacher, Wackenroder, Novalis, Arnim, Brentano,
+resulted in little that has endured. It produced no
+typical forms; the character of its literature is musical
+rather than plastic; its impulse is not a clear perception
+or creation, but an infinite and ineffable aspiration.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span>
+An intenser spiritual life was at once the impulse and
+the goal of the Romanticists, in whom wonder and infinite
+desire are born again. A sympathetic interest in the fairy
+tale and the legend, in the face of Nature and in her
+creatures, in history, institutions and law, and a keener
+emotional sensitiveness in poetry, were the result of this
+refreshed interior life. In religion, the movement was
+towards the richly-coloured mystery and child-like faith
+of Catholicism; and in respect of human love it was towards
+freedom, spontaneity, intensity, and against the
+hard bonds of social conventions.</p>
+
+<p>But its emotions became increasingly morbid, abnormal
+and ineffectual. Romanticism tended really, not to
+the spiritual emancipation that was its avowed aim, but
+to a refinement of sensuality; an indolent and passive
+enjoyment is its actual goal; and it repudiates industry
+and utility as the philistine barriers which exclude us
+from Paradise. Retrogression, the going back to a
+fancied Paradise or Golden Age, is the central idea of
+Romanticism, and is the secret of the practical ineffectiveness
+of the movement.</p>
+
+<p>Friedrich Schlegel's romance, "Lucinde," is a very
+typical work of this period. It is based on the Romantic
+idea that life and poetry are identical, and its aim is to
+counsel the transformation of our actual life into a poem
+or work of art. It is a manifesto of self-absorption and
+of subjectivity; the reasoned defence of idleness, of enjoyment,
+of lawlessness, of the arbitrary expression of the
+Self, supreme above all.</p>
+
+<p>The mysticism of Novalis, who preferred sickness to
+health, night to day, and invested death itself with sensual
+delights, is described by himself as voluptuousness.
+It is full of a feverish, morbid desire, which becomes at
+last the desire for nothingness. The "blue flower," in
+his story "Heinrich von Ofterdingen," is the ideal, personal
+happiness, sought for in all Romanticism, but by its
+very nature never attainable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Reaction in France</i></h4>
+
+<p>Herein we have the culmination of the reactionary
+movement. Certain authors are grouped together as
+labouring for the re-establishment of the fallen power
+of authority; and by the principle of authority is to be
+understood "the principle which assumes the life of the
+individual and of the nation to be based upon reverence
+for inherited tradition." Further, "the principle of
+authority in general stood or fell with the authority of
+the Church. When that was undermined, it drew all
+other authorities with it in its fall."</p>
+
+<p>After a study of the Revolution in its quality as a
+religious movement, and the story of the Concordat, our
+author traces the genesis of this extreme phase of the
+reaction. Its promoters were all of noble birth and bound
+by close ties to the old royal families; their aim was
+political rather than religious; "they craved for religion
+as a panacea for lawlessness." Their ruling idea was the
+principle of externality, as opposed to that of inward,
+personal feeling and private investigation; it was the
+principle of theocracy, as opposed to the sovereignty of
+the people; it was the principle of power, as opposed to
+the principles of human rights and liberties.</p>
+
+<p>Chateaubriand's famous book, "Le Génie du Christianisme,"
+devoid of real feeling, attempts to vindicate
+authority by means of an appeal to sentiment, as if taking
+for granted that a reasoned faith was now impossible.
+His point of view is romantic, and therefore, religiously,
+false; his reasoning is of the "how beautiful!" style.</p>
+
+<p>But the principle was enthroned by Count Joseph de
+Maistre, a very different man. The minister of the King
+of Sardinia at the court of Russia, he gained the emperor's
+confidence by his strong and pure character, his
+royalist principles, and his talents. His more important
+works, "Du Pape," "De l'Eglise Gallicane," and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span>
+"Soirées de St. Pétersbourg," are the most uncompromising
+defence of political and religious autocracy. The
+fundamental idea of his works is that "there is no human
+society without government, no government without sovereignty,
+and no sovereignty without infallibility." Beside
+De Maistre stands Bonald, a man of the same views, but
+without the other's daring and versatile wit. Chateaubriand's
+prose epic "Les Martyrs," the mystically sensual
+writings of Madame Krüdener, and the lyric poetry of
+Lamartine and Victor Hugo further popularised the reaction,
+which reached its breaking point in Lamennais.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this moment, April, 1824, that the news
+came of Byron's death in Greece. The illusion dissolved;
+the reaction came to an end. The principle of authority
+fell, never to rise again; and the Immanuelistic school
+was succeeded by the Satanic.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Naturalism in England</i></h4>
+
+<p>The distinguishing character which our author discovers
+in the English poets is a love of Nature, of the
+country and the sea, of domestic animals and vegetation.
+This Naturalism, common to Wordsworth, Coleridge,
+Scott, Keats, Moore, Shelley and Byron, becomes, when
+transferred to social interests, revolutionary; the English
+poet is a Radical. Literary questions interest him not;
+he is at heart a politician.</p>
+
+<p>The political background of English intellectual life
+at this period is painted forcibly and in the darkest tones.
+It was "dark with terror produced in the middle classes
+by the excesses of the liberty movement in France, dark
+with the tyrannic lusts of proud Tories and the Church's
+oppressions, dark with the spilt blood of Irish Catholics
+and English artisans." In the midst of all this misery,
+Wordsworth and Coleridge recalled the English mind to
+the love of real Nature and to the love of liberty.
+Wordsworth's conviction was that in town life and its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>
+distractions men had forgotten Nature, and had been
+punished for it; constant social intercourse had dissipated
+their talents and impaired their susceptibility to simple
+and pure impressions. His naturalism is antagonistic
+to all official creeds; it is akin to the old Greek conception
+of Nature, and is impregnated with pantheism.</p>
+
+<p>The separate studies which follow, dealing with the
+natural Romanticism of Coleridge, Southey's Oriental
+Romanticism, the Lake school's conception of Liberty,
+the Historic Naturalism of Scott, the sensuous poetry of
+Keats, the poetry of Irish opposition and revolt, Thomas
+Campbell's poetry of freedom, the Republican Humanism
+of Landor, Shelley's Radical Naturalism, and like subjects,
+are of the highest importance to every English
+reader who would understand the time in which he lives.
+But Byron's is the heroic figure in this act. "Byron's
+genius takes possession of him, and makes him great
+and victorious in his argument, directing his aim with
+absolute certainty to the vital points." Byron's whole
+being burned with the profoundest compassion for the
+immeasurable sufferings of humanity. It was liberty
+that he worshipped, and he died for liberty.</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;The Romantic School in France</i></h4>
+
+<p>During the Revolution the national property had been
+divided into twenty times as many hands as before, and
+with the fall of Napoleon the industrial period begins.
+All restrictions had been removed from industry and
+commerce, and capital became the moving power of society
+and the object of individual desires. The pursuit
+of money helps to give to the literature of the day its
+romantic, idealistic stamp. Balzac alone, however, made
+money the hero of his epic. Other great writers of the
+period, Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, George Sand,
+Beyle, Mérimée, Théophile Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, kept
+as far as possible from the new reality.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span>
+The young Romanticists of 1830 burned with a passion
+for art and a detestation of drab bourgeoisie. A break
+with tradition was demanded in all the arts; the original,
+the unconscious, the popular, were what they aimed at.
+It was now, as in Hugo's dramas, that the passionate
+plebeian appeared on the scene as hero; Mérimée, as in
+"Carmen," painted savage emotions; Nodier's children
+spoke like real children; George Sand depicted, in woman,
+not conscious virtue and vice, but the innate nobility
+and natural goodness of a noble woman's heart. The
+poet was no longer looked on as a courtier, but as the
+despised high-priest of humanity.</p>
+
+<p>The French Romantic school is the greatest literary
+school of the nineteenth century. It displayed three
+main tendencies&mdash;the endeavour to reproduce faithfully
+some real piece of past history or some phase of modern
+life; the endeavour after perfection of form; and enthusiasm
+for great religious or social reformatory ideas.
+These three tendencies are traced out in the ideals and
+work of the brilliant authors of the period; in George
+Sand, for instance, who proclaimed that the mission of
+art is a mission of sentiment and love; and in Balzac, who
+views society as the scientist investigates Nature&mdash;"he
+never moralises and condemns; he never allows himself
+to be led by disgust or enthusiasm to describe otherwise
+than truthfully; nothing is too small, nothing is too great
+to be examined and explained."</p>
+
+<p>The impressions which our author gives of Sainte-Beuve,
+Gautier, George Sand, Balzac and Mérimée are
+vivid and concrete; they are high achievements in literary
+portraiture, set in a real historic background.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;Young Germany</i></h4>
+
+<p>The personality, writings, and actions of Byron had
+an extraordinary influence upon "Young Germany," a
+movement initiated by Heine and Börne, and characterised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>
+by a strong craving for liberty. "Byron, with his
+contempt for the real negation of liberty that lay concealed
+beneath the 'wars of liberty' against Napoleon,
+with his championship of the oppressed, his revolt against
+social custom, his sensuality and spleen, his passionate
+love of liberty in every domain, seemed to the men of
+that day to be an embodiment of all that they understood
+by the modern spirit, modern poetry."</p>
+
+<p>The literary group known as Young Germany has no
+creative minds of the highest, and only one of very high
+rank, namely, Heine. "It denied, it emancipated, it
+cleared up, it let in fresh air. It is strong through its
+doubt, its hatred of thraldom, its individualism." The
+Germany of those days has been succeeded by a quite
+new Germany, organised to build up and to put forth
+material strength, and the writers of the first half of the
+nineteenth century, who were always praising France and
+condemning the sluggishness of their own country, are
+but little read.</p>
+
+<p>The literary figures of this period who are painted by
+our author, are Börne, Heine, Immermann, Menzel,
+Gutzkow, Laube, Mundt, Rahel Varnhagen von Ense,
+Bettina von Arnim, Charlotte Stieglitz, and many others,
+to whose writings, in conjunction with those of the
+French Romanticists, Brandes ascribes the general revolt
+of the oppressed peoples of Europe in 1848. Of the men
+of that date he says: "They had a faith that could remove
+mountains, and a hope that could shake the earth.
+Liberty, parliament, national unity, liberty of the Press,
+republic, were to them magic words, at the very sound
+of which their hearts leaped like the heart of a youth
+who suddenly sees his beloved."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_41"><a name="ROBERT_BURTON" id="ROBERT_BURTON">ROBERT BURTON</a></h2>
+
+<h3>The Anatomy of Melancholy</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Robert Burton was born on February 8, 1576, of an old family,
+at Lindley, Leicestershire, England; was educated at the free
+school of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, and at Brasenose College,
+Oxford, and in 1599 was elected student of Christ Church.
+In 1616 he was presented with the vicarage of St. Thomas, Oxford,
+and in 1636 with the rectory of Segrave, in Leicestershire,
+and kept both these livings until his death. But he lived chiefly
+in his rooms at Christ Church, Oxford, where, burrowing in the
+treasures of the Bodleian Library, he elaborated his learned and
+whimsical book. He died on January 25, 1639, and was buried
+in Christ Church Cathedral. The "Anatomy of Melancholy" is
+an enormous compendium of sound sense, sly humour, universal
+erudition, mediæval science, fantastic conceits, and noble sentiments,
+arranged in the form of a most methodical treatise,
+divided, and subdivided again, into sections dealing with every
+conceivable aspect of this fell disorder. It is an intricate tissue
+of quotations and allusions, and its interest lies as much in its
+texture as in its argument. The "Anatomy" consists of an introduction,
+"Democritus Junior to the Reader," and then of
+three "Partitions," of which the first treats of the Causes of
+Melancholy, the second of its Cure, and the third of Love-Melancholy,
+wherewith is included the Melancholy of Superstition.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Democritus Junior to the Reader</i></h4>
+
+<p>Gentle reader, I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive
+to know what antic or personate actor this is that
+so insolently intrudes upon this common theatre to the
+world's view, arrogating another man's name; whence
+he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say. Seek
+not after that which is hid; if the contents please thee,
+suppose the man in the moon, or whom thou wilt, to be
+the author; I would not willingly be known.</p>
+
+<p>I have masked myself under this visard because, like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span>
+Democritus, I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary,
+private life in the university, penned up most part in my
+study. Though by my profession a divine, yet, out of
+a running wit, an unconstant, unsettled mind, I had a
+great desire to have some smattering in all subjects;
+which Plato commends as fit to be imprinted in all
+curious wits, not to be a slave of one science, as most
+do, but to rove abroad, to have an oar in every man's
+boat, to taste of every dish, and to sip of every cup;
+which, saith Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle.</p>
+
+<p>I have little, I want nothing; all my treasure is in
+Minerva's tower. Though I lead a monastic life, myself
+my own theatre, I hear and see what is done abroad,
+how others run, ride, turmoil, in court and country.
+Amid the gallantry and misery of the world, jollity,
+pride, perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy,
+subtlety, knavery, candour, and integrity, I rub on in
+private, left to a solitary life and mine own domestic
+discontents.</p>
+
+<p>So I call myself Democritus, to assume a little more
+liberty of speech, or, if you will needs know, for that
+reason which Hippocrates relates, how, coming to visit
+him one day, he found Democritus in his garden at Abdera,
+under a shady bower, with a book on his knees,
+busy at his study, sometimes writing, sometimes walking.
+The subject of his book was melancholy and madness.
+About him lay the carcasses of many several
+beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomised; not that
+he did contemn God's creatures, but to find out the seat
+of this black bile, or melancholy, and how it is engendered
+in men's bodies, to the intent he might better cure
+it in himself, and by his writings teach others how to
+avoid it; which good intent of his Democritus Junior is
+bold to imitate, and because he left it imperfect and it is
+now lost, to revive again, prosecute, and finish in this
+treatise. I seek not applause; I fear good men's censures,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span>
+and to their favourable acceptance I submit my
+labours. But as the barking of a dog I contemn those
+malicious and scurrile obloquies, flouts, calumnies of
+railers and detractors.</p>
+
+<p>Of the necessity of what I have said, if any man doubt
+of it, I shall desire him to make a brief survey of the
+world, as Cyprian adviseth Donate; supposing himself
+to be transported to the top of some high mountain, and
+thence to behold the tumults and chances of this wavering
+world, he cannot choose but either laugh at, or pity
+it. St. Hierom, out of a strong imagination, being in
+the wilderness, conceived that he saw them dancing in
+Rome; and if thou shalt climb to see, thou shalt soon
+perceive that all the world is mad, that it is melancholy,
+dotes; that it is a common prison of gulls, cheats, flatterers,
+etc., and needs to be reformed. Kingdoms and
+provinces are melancholy; cities and families, all
+creatures vegetal, sensible and rational, all sorts, sects,
+ages, conditions, are out of tune; from the highest to
+the lowest have need of physic. Who is not brain-sick?
+Oh, giddy-headed age! Mad endeavours! Mad actions!</p>
+
+<p>If Democritus were alive now, and should but see the
+superstition of our age, our religious madness, so many
+professed Christians, yet so few imitators of Christ, so
+much talk and so little conscience, so many preachers
+and such little practice, such variety of sects&mdash;how dost
+thou think he might have been affected? What would
+he have said to see, hear, and read so many bloody battles,
+such streams of blood able to turn mills, to make
+sport for princes, without any just cause? Men well
+proportioned, carefully brought up, able in body and
+mind, led like so many beasts to the slaughter in the
+flower of their years, without remorse and pity, killed
+for devils' food, 40,000 at once! At once? That were
+tolerable; but these wars last always; and for many ages,
+nothing so familiar as this hacking and hewing, massacres,
+murders, desolations! Who made creatures, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span>
+peaceable, born to love, mercy, meekness, so to rave
+like beasts and run to their own destruction?</p>
+
+<p>How would our Democritus have been affected to see
+so many lawyers, advocates, so many tribunals, so little
+justice; so many laws, yet never more disorders; the
+tribunal a labyrinth; to see a lamb executed, a wolf pronounce
+sentence? What's the market but a place wherein
+they cozen one another, a trap? Nay, what's the
+world itself but a vast chaos, a theatre of hypocrisy, a
+shop of knavery, a scene of babbling, the academy of
+vice? A warfare, in which you must kill or be killed,
+wherein every man is for himself; no charity, love,
+friendship, fear of God, alliance, affinity, consanguinity,
+can contain them. Our goddess is Queen Money, to
+whom we daily offer sacrifice. It's not worth, virtue,
+wisdom, valour, learning, honesty, religion, for which
+we are respected, but money, greatness, office, honour.
+All these things are easy to be discerned, but how would
+Democritus have been moved had he seen the secrets
+of our hearts! All the world is mad, and every member
+of it, and I can but wish myself and them a good physician,
+and all of us a better mind.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Causes of Melancholy</i></h4>
+
+<p>The impulsive cause of these miseries in man was the
+sin of our first parent, Adam; and this, belike, is that
+which our poets have shadowed unto us in the tale of
+Pandora's Box, which, being opened through her curiosity,
+filled the world full of all manner of diseases. But
+as our sins are the principal cause, so the instrumental
+causes of our infirmities are as diverse as the infirmities
+themselves. Stars, heavens, elements, and all those
+creatures which God hath made, are armed against sinners.
+But the greatest enemy to man is man, his own
+executioner, a wolf, a devil to himself and others. Again,
+no man amongst us so sound that hath not some impediment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span>
+of body or mind. There are diseases acute
+and chronic, first and secondary, lethal, salutary, errant,
+fixed, simple, compound, etc. Melancholy is the most
+eminent of the diseases of the phantasy or imagination;
+and dotage, phrensy, madness, hydrophobia, lycanthropy,
+St. Vitus' dance, and ecstasy are forms of it.</p>
+
+<p>Melancholy is either in disposition or habit. In disposition
+it is that transitory melancholy which comes
+and goes upon every small occasion of sorrow; we call
+him melancholy that is dull, sad, sour, lumpish, ill-disposed,
+and solitary; and from these dispositions no man
+living is free; none so wise, patient, happy, generous, or
+godly, that can vindicate himself.</p>
+
+<p>Melancholy is a cold and dry, thick, black, and sour
+humour, purged from the spleen; it is a bridle to the
+other two hot humours, blood and choler, preserving
+them in the blood and nourishing the bones. Such as
+have the Moon, Saturn, Mercury, misaffected in their
+genitures; such as live in over-cold or over-hot climates;
+such as are solitary by nature; great students, given to
+much contemplation; such as lead a life out of action;
+all are most subject to melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>Six things are much spoken of amongst physicians as
+principal causes of this disease; if a man be melancholy,
+he hath offended in one of the six. They are diet, air,
+exercise, sleeping, and walking, and perturbations of the
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>Idleness, the badge of gentry, or want of exercise,
+the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness,
+the chief author of all mischief, one of the seven deadly
+sins, and a sole cause of this and many other maladies,
+the devil's cushion and chief reposal, begets melancholy
+sooner than anything else. Such as live at ease, and
+have no ordinary employment to busy themselves about,
+cannot compose themselves to do aught; they cannot
+abide work, though it be necessary, easy, as to dress
+themselves, write a letter, or the like. He or she that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span>
+is idle, be they never so rich, fortunate, happy, let them
+have all that heart can desire, they shall never be pleased,
+never well in body and mind, but weary still, sickly still,
+vexed still, loathing still, weeping, sighing, grieving,
+suspecting, offended with the world, with every object,
+wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away
+with some foolish phantasy or other.</p>
+
+<p>Others, giving way to the passions and perturbations
+of fear, grief, shame, revenge, hatred, malice, etc., are
+torn in pieces, as Actæon was with his dogs, and crucify
+their own souls. Every society and private family is
+full of envy; it takes hold of all sorts of men, from prince
+to ploughman; scarce three in a company, but there is
+siding, faction, emulation, between two of them, some
+jar, private grudge, heart-burning in the midst. Scarce
+two great scholars in an age, but with bitter invectives
+they fall foul one on the other. Being that we are so
+peevish and perverse, insolent and proud, so factious
+and seditious, malicious and envious, we do maul and
+vex one another, torture, disquiet, and precipitate ourselves
+into that gulf of woes and cares, aggravate our
+misery and melancholy, and heap upon us hell and eternal
+damnation.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Cure of Melancholy</i></h4>
+
+<p>"It matters not," saith Paracelsus, "whether it be God
+or the devil, angels or unclean spirits, cure him, so that
+he be eased." Some have recourse to witches; but much
+better were it for patients that are troubled with melancholy
+to endure a little misery in this life than to hazard
+their souls' health for ever. All unlawful cures are to
+be refused, and it remains to treat of those that are admitted.</p>
+
+<p>These are such as God hath appointed, by virtue of
+stones, herbs, plants, meats, and the like, which are prepared
+and applied to our use by the art and industry of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>
+physicians, God's intermediate ministers. We must begin
+with prayer and then use physic; not one without
+the other, but both together.</p>
+
+<p>Diet must be rectified in substance and in quantity;
+air rectified; for there is much in choice of place and of
+chamber, in opportune opening and shutting of windows,
+and in walking abroad at convenient times. Exercise
+must be rectified of body and mind. Hawking,
+hunting, fishing are good, especially the last, which is
+still and quiet, and if so be the angler catch no fish, yet
+he hath a wholesome walk and pleasant shade by the
+sweet silver streams. But the most pleasant of all pastimes
+is to make a merry journey now and then with
+some good companions, to visit friends, see cities, castles,
+towns, to walk amongst orchards, gardens, bowers,
+to disport in some pleasant plain. St. Bernard, in the
+description of his monastery, is almost ravished with the
+pleasures of it. "Good God," saith he, "what a company
+of pleasures hast Thou made for man!" But what
+is so fit and proper to expel idleness and melancholy as
+study? What so full of content as to read, and see maps,
+pictures, statues, jewels, and marbles, so exquisite to be
+beheld that, as Chrysostom thinketh, "if any man be
+sickly or troubled in mind, and shall but stand over
+against one of Phidias's images, he will forget all care
+in an instant?"</p>
+
+<p>If thou receivest wrong, compose thyself with patience
+to bear it. Thou shalt find greatest ease to be quiet. I
+say the same of scoffs, slanders, detractions, which tend
+to our disgrace; 'tis but opinion; if we would neglect
+or contemn them, they would reflect disgrace on them
+that offered them. "Yea, but I am ashamed, disgraced,
+degraded, exploded; my notorious crimes and villainies
+are come to light!" Be content; 'tis but a nine days'
+wonder; 'tis heavy, ghastly, fearful news at first, but
+thine offence will be forgotten in an instant. Thou art
+not the first offender, nor shalt thou be the last. If he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>
+alone should accuse thee that were faultless, how many
+executioners, how many accusers, would thou have?
+Shall every man have his desert, thou wouldst peradventure
+be a saint in comparison. Be not dismayed; it
+is human to err. Be penitent, ask forgiveness, and vex
+thyself no more. Doth the moon care for the barking
+of a dog?</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Love-Melancholy</i></h4>
+
+<p>There will not be wanting those who will much discommend
+this treatise of love-melancholy, and object
+that it is too light for a divine, too phantastical, and fit
+only for a wanton poet. So that they may be admired
+for grave philosophers, and staid carriage, they cannot
+abide to hear talk of love-toys; in all their outward actions
+they are averse; and yet, in their cogitations, they
+are all but as bad, if not worse than others. I am almost
+afraid to relate the passions which this tyrant love
+causeth among men; it hath wrought such stupendous
+and prodigious effects, such foul offences.</p>
+
+<p>As there be divers causes of this heroical love, so
+there be many good remedies, among which good counsel
+and persuasion are of great moment, especially if it
+proceed from a wise, fatherly, discreet person. They
+will lament and howl for a while; but let him proceed,
+by foreshewing the miserable dangers that will surely
+happen, the pains of hell, joys of paradise, and the like;
+and this is a very good means, for love is learned of
+itself, but hardly left without a tutor.</p>
+
+<p>In sober sadness, marriage is a bondage, a thraldom,
+a hindrance to all good enterprises; "he hath married
+a wife, and therefore cannot come"; a rock on which
+many are saved, many are cast away. Not that the
+thing is evil in itself, or troublesome, but full of happiness,
+and a thing which pleases God; but to indiscreet,
+sensual persons, it is a feral plague, many times an hell
+itself. If thy wife be froward, all is in an uproar; if wise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span>
+and learned, she will be insolent and peevish; if poor,
+she brings beggary; if young, she is wanton and untaught.
+Say the best, she is a commanding servant;
+thou hadst better have taken a good housewifely maid
+in her smock. Since, then, there is such hazard, keep
+thyself as thou art; 'tis good to match, much better to
+be free. Consider withal how free, how happy, how secure,
+how heavenly, in respect, a single man is.</p>
+
+<p>But when all is said, since some be good, some bad,
+let's put it to the venture. Marry while thou mayest,
+and take thy fortune as it falls. Be not so covetous, so
+distrustful, so curious and nice, but let's all marry; to-morrow
+is St. Valentine's Day. Since, then, marriage
+is the last and best cure of heroical love, all doubts are
+cured and impediments removed; God send us all good
+wives!</p>
+
+<p>Take this for a corollory and conclusion; as thou tenderest
+thine own welfare in love-melancholy, in the melancholy
+of religion, and in all other melancholy; observe
+this short precept&mdash;Be not solitary; be not idle.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_50"><a name="THOMAS_CARLYLE" id="THOMAS_CARLYLE">THOMAS CARLYLE</a></h2>
+
+<h3>On Heroes and Hero-Worship</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>This is the last of four series of lectures which Carlyle (see
+Vol. IX, p. 99) delivered in London in successive years, and is the
+only series which was published. The "Lectures on Heroes"
+were given in May, 1840, and were published, with emendations
+and additions, from the reporter's notes in 1841. The preceding
+series were on "German Literature," 1837; "The Successive
+Periods of European Culture," 1838; and "The Revolutions of
+Modern Europe," 1839. Carlyle's profound and impassioned belief
+in the quasi-divine inspiration of great men, in the authoritative
+nature of their "message," and in their historical effectiveness,
+was a reaction against a way of writing history which finds
+the origin of events in "movements," "currents," and "tendencies"
+neglecting or minimising the power of personality.
+For Carlyle, biography was the essential element in history; his
+view of events was the dramatic view, as opposed to the scientific
+view. It is idle to inquire which is the better or truer
+view, where both are necessary. But Carlyle is here specially
+tilting against a prejudice which has so utterly passed away
+that it is difficult even to imagine it. This was to the effect
+that eminent historical figures have been in some sense impostors.
+This work suffers a good deal from its origin, but,
+like others of Carlyle's writings, it has had great effect in discrediting
+a barren and flippant rationalism.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;The Hero as Divinity</i></h4>
+
+<p>We have undertaken to discourse on great men, their
+manner of appearance in our world's business, how they
+shaped themselves in the world's history, what ideas
+men formed of them, and what work they did. We are
+to treat of hero-worship and the heroic in human affairs.
+The topic is as wide as universal history itself,
+for the history of what man has accomplished in this
+world is, at bottom, the history of the great men who
+have worked here.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span>
+It is well said that a man's religion is the chief fact
+with regard to him. I do not mean the Church creed
+which he professes, but the thing that he does practically
+believe, the manner in which he feels himself to
+be spiritually related to the unseen world. Was it
+heathenism, a plurality of gods, a mere sensuous representation
+of the mystery of life, and for chief recognised
+element therein physical force? Was it Christianism;
+faith in an Invisible as the only reality; time ever resting
+on eternity; pagan empire of force displaced by the
+nobler supremacy of holiness? Was it scepticism, uncertainty,
+and inquiry whether there was an unseen
+world at all, or perhaps unbelief and flat denial? The
+answer to these questions gives us the soul of the history
+of the man or nation.</p>
+
+<p>Odin, the central figure of Scandinavian paganism,
+shall be our emblem of the hero as divinity. And in the
+first place I protest against the theory that this paganism
+or any other religion has consisted of mere quackery,
+priestcraft, and dupery. Quackery gives birth to
+nothing; gives death to all. Man everywhere is the born
+enemy of lies, and paganism, to its followers, was at one
+time earnestly true. Nor can we admit that other theory,
+which attributed these mythologies to allegory, or
+to the play of poetic minds. Pagan religion, like every
+other, is indeed a symbol of what men felt about the
+universe, but a practical guiding knowledge of this mysterious
+life of theirs, and not a perfect poetic symbol of
+it, has been the want of men. The "Pilgrim's Progress"
+is a just and beautiful allegory, but it could never
+have preceded the faith which it symbolises. Men never
+risked their soul's life on allegories; there was a kind of
+fact at the heart of paganism.</p>
+
+<p>To the primitive pagan thinker, who was simple as a
+child, yet had a man's depth and strength, nature had
+as yet no name. It stood naked, flashing in on him,
+beautiful, awful, unspeakable; nature was preternatural.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span>
+The world, which is now divine only to the gifted, was
+then divine to whosoever would turn his eye upon it.
+Still more was the body of man, and the mystery of his
+consciousness, an emblem to them of God, and truly
+worshipful.</p>
+
+<p>How much more, then, was the worship of a hero
+reasonable&mdash;the transcendent admiration of a great man!
+For great men are still admirable. At bottom there is
+nothing else admirable. Admiration for one higher
+than himself is to this hour the vivifying influence in
+man's life, and is the germ of Christianity itself. The
+greatest of all heroes is One whom we do not name
+here.</p>
+
+<p>Without doubt there was a first teacher and captain
+of these northern peoples, an Odin palpable to the sense,
+a real hero of flesh and blood. Tradition calls him inventor
+of the Runes, or Scandinavian alphabet, and
+again of poetry. To the wild Norse souls this noble-hearted
+man was hero, prophet, god. That the man
+Odin, speaking with a hero's voice and heart, as with
+an impressiveness out of Heaven, told his people the
+infinite importance of valour, how man thereby became
+a god; and that his people believed this message of his,
+and thought it a message out of Heaven, and believed
+him a divinity for telling it to them&mdash;this seems to me
+the primary seed-grain of the Norse religion. For
+that religion was a sternly impressive consecration of
+valour.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Hero as Prophet</i></h4>
+
+<p>We turn now to Mohammedanism among the Arabs
+for the second phase of hero-worship, wherein the hero
+is not now regarded as a god, but as one God-inspired,
+a prophet. Mohammed is not the most eminent
+prophet, but is the one of whom we are freest to speak.
+Nor is he the truest of prophets but I do esteem him a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span>
+true one. Let us try to understand what he meant with
+the world; what the world meant and means with him
+will then be more answerable.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly he was no scheming impostor, no falsehood
+incarnate; theories of that kind are the product of an
+age of scepticism, and indicate the saddest spiritual
+paralysis. A false man found a religion? Why, a false
+man cannot build a brick house! No Mirabeau, Napoleon,
+Burns, Cromwell, no man adequate to do anything,
+but is first of all in right earnest about it. Sincerity
+is the great characteristic of all men in any way
+heroic.</p>
+
+<p>The Arabs are a notable people; their country itself is
+notable. Consider that wide, waste horizon of sand,
+empty, silent like a sea; you are all alone there, left
+alone with the universe; by day a fierce sun blazing
+down with intolerable radiance; by night the great deep
+heaven, with its stars&mdash;a fit country for a swift-handed,
+deep-hearted race of men. The Arab character is agile,
+active, yet most meditative, enthusiastic. Hospitable,
+taciturn, earnest, truthful, deeply religious, the Arabs
+were a people of great qualities, waiting for the day
+when they should become notable to all the world.</p>
+
+<p>Here, in the year 570 of our era, the man Mohammed
+was born, and grew up in the bosom of the wilderness,
+alone with Nature and his own thoughts. From an early
+age he had been remarked as a thoughtful man, and his
+companions named him "The Faithful." He was forty
+before he talked of any mission from Heaven. All this
+time living a peaceful life, he was looking through the
+shows of things into things themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Then, having withdrawn to a cavern near Mecca for
+a month of prayer and meditation, he told his wife
+Kadijah that, by the unspeakable favour of Heaven, he
+was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all.
+That all these idols and formulas were nothing; that
+there was one God in and over all; that God is great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span>
+and is the reality. <i xml:lang="ar" lang="ar">Allah akbar</i>, "God is great"; and
+then <i xml:lang="ar" lang="ar">Islam</i>, "we must submit to Him."</p>
+
+<p>This is yet the only true morality known. A man is
+right and invincible, while he joins himself to the great
+deep law of the world, in spite of all superficial laws,
+temporary appearances, profit-and-loss calculations.
+This is the soul of Islam, and is properly also the soul
+of Christianity. We are to receive whatever befalls us
+as sent from God above. Islam means in its way the
+denial of self, annihilation of self. This is yet the highest
+wisdom that Heaven has revealed to our earth. In
+Mohammed, and in his Koran, I find first of all sincerity,
+the total freedom from cant. For these twelve
+centuries his religion has been the guidance of a fifth
+part of mankind, and, above all, it has been a religion
+heartily believed.</p>
+
+<p>The Arab nation was a poor shepherd people; a hero-prophet
+was sent down to them; within one century afterwards
+Arabia is at Grenada on this hand, at Delhi on
+that!</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Hero as Poet</i></h4>
+
+<p>The hero as divinity and as prophet are productions
+of old ages, not to be repeated in the new. We are now
+to see our hero in the less ambitious, but also less questionable,
+character of poet. For the hero can be poet,
+prophet, king, priest, or what you will, according to the
+kind of world he finds himself born into. I have no notion
+of a truly great man that could not be all sorts of
+men.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, the poet and prophet, participators in the open
+secret of the universe, are one; though the prophet has
+seized the sacred mystery rather on its moral side, and
+the poet on the æsthetic side. Poetry is essentially a
+song; its thoughts are musical not in word only, but in
+heart and in substance.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare and Dante are our two canonised poets;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span>
+they dwell apart, none equal, none second to them.
+Dante's book was written, in banishment, with his
+heart's blood. His great soul, homeless on earth, made
+its home more and more in that awful other world. The
+three kingdoms&mdash;<i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Inferno</i>, <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Purgatorio</i>, <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Paradiso</i>&mdash;are like
+compartments of a great supernatural world-cathedral,
+piled up there, stern, solemn, awful; Dante's world of
+souls. It is the sincerest of all poems. Sincerity here,
+too, we find to be the measure of worth. Intensity is
+the prevailing character of his genius; his greatness lies
+in fiery emphasis and depth; it is seen even in the
+graphic vividness of his painting. Dante burns as a pure
+star, fixed in the firmament, at which the great and high
+of all ages kindle themselves.</p>
+
+<p>As Dante embodies musically the inner life of the Middle
+Ages, so Shakespeare embodies for us its outer life,
+its chivalries, courtesies, humours, ambitions. Dante
+gave us the soul of Europe; Shakespeare gave us its
+body. Of this Shakespeare of ours, the best judgment
+of Europe is slowly pointing to the conclusion that he
+is the chief of all poets, the greatest intellect who has
+left record of himself in the way of literature.</p>
+
+<p>It is in portrait-painting, the delineation of men, that
+the greatness of Shakespeare comes out most decisively.
+His calm, creative perspicacity is unexampled. The
+word that will describe the thing follows of itself from
+such clear intense sight of the thing. He takes in all
+kinds of men&mdash;a Falstaff, Othello, Juliet, Coriolanus;
+sets them all forth to us in their rounded completeness,
+loving, just, the equal brother of all.</p>
+
+<p>The degree of vision that dwells in a man is a correct
+measure of the man, and Shakespeare's is the greatest
+of intellects. Novalis beautifully remarks of him that
+those dramas of his are products of nature, too, deep as
+nature herself. Shakespeare's art is not artifice; the
+noblest worth of it is not there by plan or pre-contrivance.
+The latest generations of men will find new meanings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span>
+in Shakespeare, new elucidations of their own human
+being.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare, too, was a prophet, in his way, of an
+insight analogous to the prophetic, though he took it
+up in another strain. Nature seemed to this man also
+divine, unspeakable, deep as Tophet, high as heaven.
+"We are such stuff as dreams are made of." There
+rises a kind of universal psalm out of Shakespeare, not
+unfit to make itself heard among the still more sacred
+psalms.</p>
+
+<p>England, before long, this island of ours, will hold
+but a small fraction of the English; east and west to the
+antipodes there will be a Saxondom covering great
+spaces of the globe. What is it that can keep all these
+together into virtually one nation, so that they do not
+fall out and fight, but live at peace? Here, I say, is an
+English king whom no time or chance can dethrone!
+King Shakespeare shines over us all, as the noblest,
+gentlest, yet strongest of rallying-signs; we can fancy
+him as radiant aloft over all the nations of Englishmen,
+a thousand years hence. Truly it is a great thing for
+a nation that it gets an articulate voice.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;The Hero as Priest</i></h4>
+
+<p>The priest, too, is a kind of prophet. In him, also,
+there is required to be a light of inspiration. He presides
+over the worship of the people, and is the uniter
+of them with the unseen Holy. He is their spiritual
+captain, as the prophet is their spiritual king with many
+captains.</p>
+
+<p>Luther and Knox were by express vocation priests,
+yet it will suit us better here to consider them chiefly
+in their historical character as reformers. The battling
+reformer is from time to time a needful and inevitable
+phenomenon. Obstructions are never wanting; the very
+things that were once indispensable furtherances become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>
+obstructions, and need to be shaken off and left behind
+us&mdash;a business often of enormous difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>We are to consider Luther as an idol-breaker, a
+bringer back of men to reality, for that is the function
+of great men and teachers. Thus it was that Luther
+said to the Pope, "This thing of yours that you call a
+pardon of sins, is a bit of rag-paper with ink. It, and
+so much like it, is nothing else. God alone can pardon
+sins. God's Church is not a semblance, Heaven and
+Hell are not semblances. Standing on this, I, a poor
+German monk, am stronger than you all."</p>
+
+<p>The most interesting phase which the Reformation
+anywhere assumes is that of Puritanism, which even got
+itself established as a Presbyterianism and National
+Church among the Scotch, and has produced in the
+world very notable fruit. Knox was the chief priest and
+founder of that faith which became the faith of Scotland,
+of New England, of Oliver Cromwell; and that which
+Knox did for his nation we may really call a resurrection
+as from death. The people began to live. Scotch
+literature and thought, Scotch industry, James Watt,
+David Hume, Walter Scott, Robert Burns&mdash;I find Knox
+and the Reformation acting in the heart's core of every
+one of these persons and phenomena; I find that without
+the Reformation they would not have been.</p>
+
+<p>Knox could not live but by fact. He is an instance
+to us how a man, by sincerity itself, becomes heroic.
+We find in Knox a good, honest, intellectual talent, no
+transcendent one; he was a narrow, inconsiderable man
+as compared with Luther; but in heartfelt, instinctive
+adherence to truth, in real sincerity, he has no superior.
+His heart is of the true prophet cast. "He lies there,"
+said the Earl of Morton, at his grave, "who never
+feared the face of man."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;The Hero as Man of Letters</i></h4>
+
+<p>The hero as man of letters is a new and singular
+phenomenon. Living in his squalid garret and rusty
+coat; ruling from his grave after death whole nations
+and generations; he must be regarded as our most important
+modern person. Such as he may be, he is the
+soul of all. Intrinsically it is the same function which
+the old generations named a prophet, priest, or divinity
+for doing.</p>
+
+<p>The three great prophets of the eighteenth century,
+that singular age of scepticism, were Johnson, Rousseau,
+and Burns; they were not, indeed, heroic bringers
+of the light, but heroic seekers of it, struggling under
+mountains of impediment.</p>
+
+<p>As for Johnson, I have always considered him to be,
+by nature, one of our great English souls. It was in
+virtue of his sincerity, of his speaking still in some sort
+from the heart of nature, though in the current artificial
+dialect, that Johnson was a prophet. The highest gospel
+he preached was a kind of moral prudence, coupled
+with this other great gospel, "Clear your mind of
+cant!" These two things, joined together, were, perhaps,
+the greatest gospel that was possible at that time.</p>
+
+<p>Of Rousseau and his heroism I cannot say so much.
+He was not a strong man; but a morbid, excitable, spasmodic
+man; at best, intense rather than strong. Yet, at
+least he was heartily in earnest, if ever man was; his
+ideas possessed him like demons.</p>
+
+<p>The fault and misery of Rousseau was egoism, which
+is the source and summary of all faults and miseries
+whatsoever. He had not perfected himself into victory
+over mere desire; a mean hunger was still his motive
+principle. He was a very vain man, hungry for the
+praises of men. The whole nature of the man was poisoned;
+there was nothing but suspicion, self-isolation,
+and fierce, moody ways.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span>
+And yet this Rousseau, with his celebrations of nature,
+even of savage life in nature, did once more touch upon
+reality and struggle towards reality. Strangely through
+all that defacement, degradation, and almost madness,
+there is in the inmost heart of poor Rousseau a spark
+of real heavenly fire. Out of all that withered, mocking
+philosophism, scepticism, and persiflage of his day there
+has arisen in this man the ineradicable feeling and knowledge
+that this life of ours is true, not a theorem, but a
+fact.</p>
+
+<p>The French Revolution found its evangelist in Rousseau.
+His semi-delirious speculations on the miseries
+of civilised life, and such like, helped to produce a delirium
+in France generally. It is difficult to say what
+the governors of the world could do with such a man.
+What he could do with them is clear enough&mdash;guillotine
+a great many of them.</p>
+
+<p>The tragedy of Burns's life is known to all. The largest
+soul of all the British lands appeared under every
+disadvantage; uninstructed, poor, born only to hard
+manual toil; and writing, when it came to that, in a
+rustic special dialect, known only to a small province of
+the country he lived in.</p>
+
+<p>We find in Burns a noble, rough genuineness, the
+true simplicity of strength, and a deep and earnest element
+of sunshine and joyfulness; yet the chief quality,
+both of his poetry and of his life, is sincerity&mdash;a wild
+wrestling with the truth of things.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;The Hero as King</i></h4>
+
+<p>The commander over men, to whose will our wills are
+to be subordinated and loyally surrender themselves,
+and find their welfare in doing so, may be reckoned the
+most important of great men. He is called <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Rex</i>, "Regulator";
+our own name is still better&mdash;king, which
+means "can-ning," "able-man."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>
+In rebellious ages, when kingship itself seems dead
+and abolished, Cromwell and Napoleon step forth again
+as kings. The old ages are brought back to us; the
+manner in which kings were made, and kingship itself
+first took rise, is again exhibited in the history of these
+two.</p>
+
+<p>The war of the Puritans was a section of that universal
+war which alone makes up the true history of the
+world&mdash;the war of Belief against Unbelief; the struggle
+of men intent on the real essence of things, against men
+intent on the semblances and forms of things. And
+among these Puritans Cromwell stood supreme, grappling
+like a giant, face to face, heart to heart, with the
+naked truth of things. Yet Cromwell alone finds no
+hearty apologist anywhere. Selfish ambition, dishonesty,
+duplicity; a fierce, coarse, hypocritical Tartuffe;
+turning all that noble struggle for constitutional liberty
+into a sorry farce played for his own benefit. This, and
+worse, is the character they give him.</p>
+
+<p>From of old, this theory of Cromwell's falsity has been
+incredible to me. All that we know of him betokens an
+earnest, hearty sincerity. Everywhere we have to note
+his decisive, practical eye, how he drives towards the
+practicable, and has a genuine insight into what is fact.
+Such an intellect does not belong to a false man; the
+false man sees false shows, plausibilities, expediences;
+the true man is needed to discern even practical truth.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon by no means seems to me so great a man
+as Cromwell. His enormous victories which reached
+over all Europe, while Cromwell abode mainly in our
+little England, are but as the high stilts on which the
+man is seen standing; the stature of the man is not altered
+thereby. I find in him no such sincerity as in
+Cromwell; only a far inferior sort.</p>
+
+<p>"False as a bulletin," became a proverb in Napoleon's
+time. Yet he had a sincerity, a certain instinctive, ineradicable
+feeling for reality; and did base himself upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span>
+fact, so long as he had any basis. He had an instinct
+of Nature better than his culture was. His companions,
+we are told, were one evening busily occupied arguing
+that there could be no God; they had proved it by all
+manner of logic. Napoleon, looking up into the stars,
+answers, "Very ingenious, Messieurs; but who made
+all that?" The atheistic logic runs off from him like
+water; the great fact stares him in the face. So, too, in
+practice; he, as every man that can be great, sees,
+through all entanglements, the practical heart of the
+matter, and drives straight towards that.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, there was a faith in him, genuine so far
+as it went. That this new, enormous democracy is an
+insuppressible fact, which the whole world cannot put
+down&mdash;this was a true insight of his, and took his conscience
+and enthusiasm along with it. And did he not
+interpret the dim purport of it well? <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">La carrière ouverte
+aux talents</i>&mdash;"the implements to him who can handle
+them"&mdash;this actually is the truth, and even the whole
+truth; it includes whatever the French Revolution or
+any revolution could mean. It is a great, true message
+from our last great man.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3 id="ch_61"><a name="Sartor_Resartus" id="Sartor_Resartus">Sartor Resartus</a></h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"Sartor Resartus," first published in "Frazer's Magazine" in
+1833&ndash;34, is Thomas Carlyle's most popular work, and is largely
+autobiographical.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h3><i>I.&mdash;The Philosophy of Clothes</i></h3>
+
+<p>Considering our present advanced state of culture,
+and how the torch of science has now been brandished
+and borne about, with more or less effect, for five thousand
+years and upwards, it is surprising that hitherto
+little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether in
+the way of philosophy or history, has been written on
+the subject of clothes. Every other tissue has been dissected,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span>
+but the vestural tissue of woollen or other cloth,
+which man's soul wears as its outmost wrappage, has
+been quite overlooked. All speculation has tacitly figured
+man as a clothed animal, whereas he is by nature
+a naked animal, and only in certain circumstances, by
+purpose and device, masks himself in clothes.</p>
+
+<p>But here, as in so many other cases, learned, indefatigable,
+deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid.
+The editor of these sheets has lately received a new
+book from Professor Teufelsdröckh, of Weissnichtwo,
+treating expressly of "Clothes, their Origin and Influence"
+(1831). This extensive volume, a very sea of
+thought, discloses to us not only a new branch of philosophy,
+but also the strange personal character of Professor
+Teufelsdröckh, which is scarcely less interesting.
+We were just considering how the extraordinary doctrines
+of this book might best be imparted to our own
+English nation, when we received a letter from Herr
+Hofrath Heuschrecke, our professor's chief associate,
+offering us the requisite documents for a biography of
+Teufelsdröckh. This was the origin of our "Sartor Resartus,"
+now presented in the vehicle of "Frazer's
+Magazine."</p>
+
+<p>Professor Teufelsdröckh, when we knew him at
+Weissnichtwo, lived a still and self-contained life, devoted
+to the higher philosophies and to a certain speculative
+radicalism. The last words that he spoke in our
+hearing were to propose a toast in the coffee-house&mdash;"The
+cause of the poor, in heaven's name and the devil's."
+But we looked for nothing moral from him, still
+less anything didactico-religious.</p>
+
+<p>Brave Teufelsdröckh, who could tell what lurked in
+thee? In thine eyes, deep under thy shaggy brows, and
+looking out so still and dreamy, have we not noticed
+gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire? Our
+friend's title was that of Professor of Things in General,
+but he never delivered any course. We used to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span>
+sit with him in his attic, overlooking the town; he would
+contemplate that wasp-nest or bee-hive spread out below
+him, and utter the strangest thoughts. "That living
+flood, pouring through these streets, is coming from
+eternity, going onward to eternity. These are apparitions.
+What else?" Thus he lived and meditated with
+Heuschrecke as Boswell for his Johnson.</p>
+
+<p>"As Montesquieu wrote a 'Spirit of Laws,'" observes
+our professor, "so could I write a 'Spirit of Clothes,'
+for neither in tailoring nor in legislating does man proceed
+by mere accident, but the hand is ever guided by
+the mysterious operations of the mind." And so he
+deals with Paradise and fig-leaves, and proceeds to view
+the costumes of all mankind, in all countries, in all
+times.</p>
+
+<p>The first purpose of clothes, he imagines, was not
+warmth or decency, but ornament. "Yet what have
+they not become? Increased security and pleasurable
+heat soon followed; divine shame or modesty, as yet a
+stranger to the anthropophagous bosom, arose there
+mysteriously under clothes, a mystic shrine for the holy
+in man. Clothes gave us individuality, distinctions, social
+polity; clothes have made men of us; they are threatening
+to make clothes-screens of us."</p>
+
+<p>Teufelsdröckh dwells chiefly on the seams, tatters, and
+unsightly wrong-side of clothes, but he has also a superlative
+transcendentalism. To him, man is a soul, a
+spirit, and divine apparition, whose flesh and senses are
+but a garment. He deals much in the feeling of wonder,
+insisting that wonder is the only reasonable temper
+for the denizen of our planet. "Wonder," he says, "is
+the basis of worship," and that progress of science,
+which is to destroy wonder and substitute mensuration
+and numeration, finds small favour with him. "Clothes,
+despicable as we think them, are unspeakably significant."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Biography of Teufelsdröckh</i></h4>
+
+<p>So far as we can gather from the disordered papers
+which have been placed in our hands, the genesis of
+Diogenes Teufelsdröckh is obscure. We see nothing
+but an exodus out of invisibility into visibility. In the
+village of Entepfuhl we find a childless couple, verging
+on old age. Andreas Futteral, who has been a grenadier
+sergeant under Frederick the Great, is now cultivating
+a little orchard. To him and Gretchen his wife there
+entered one evening a stranger of reverend aspect, who
+deposited a silk-covered basket, saying, "Good people,
+here is an invaluable loan; take all heed thereof; with
+high recompense, or else with heavy penalty, will it one
+day be required back." Therein they found, as soon as
+he had departed, a little infant in the softest sleep. Our
+philosopher tells us that this story, told him in his twelfth
+year, produced a quite indelible impression. Who was
+his unknown father, whom he was never able to meet?</p>
+
+<p>We receive glimpses of his childhood, schooldays, and
+university life, and then meet with him in that difficulty,
+common to young men, of "getting under way." "Not
+what I have," he says, "but what I do, is my kingdom;
+and we should grope throughout our lives from one expectation
+and disappointment to another were we not
+saved by one thing&mdash;our hunger." He had thrown up
+his legal profession, and found himself without landmark
+of outward guidance; whereby his previous want
+of decided belief, or inward guidance, is frightfully aggravated.
+So he sets out over an unknown sea; but a
+certain Calypso Island at the very outset falsifies his
+whole reckoning.</p>
+
+<p>"Nowhere," he says, "does Heaven so immediately
+reveal itself to the young man as in the young maiden.
+The feeling of our young forlorn towards the queens of
+this earth was, and indeed is, altogether unspeakable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span>
+A visible divinity dwelt in them; to our young friend
+all women were holy, were heavenly. And if, on a soul
+so circumstanced, some actual air-maiden should cast
+kind eyes, saying thereby, 'Thou too mayest love and
+be loved,' and so kindle him&mdash;good Heaven, what an
+all-consuming fire were probably kindled!"</p>
+
+<p>Such a fire of romance did actually burst forth in Herr
+Diogenes. We know not who "Blumine" was, nor how
+they met. She was young, hazel-eyed, beautiful, high-born,
+and of high spirit, but unhappily dependent and
+insolvent, living perhaps on the bounty of moneyed relatives.
+"To our friend the hours seemed moments; holy
+was he and happy; the words from those sweetest lips
+came over him like dew on thirsty grass. At parting,
+the Blumine's hand was in his; in the balmy twilight,
+with the kind stars above them, he spoke something of
+meeting again, which was not contradicted; he pressed
+gently those soft, small fingers, and it seemed as if they
+were not hastily, not angrily withdrawn."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Teufelsdröckh, it is clear to demonstration thou
+art smit! Flame-clad, thou art scaling the upper
+Heaven, and verging towards insanity, for prize of a
+high-souled brunette, as if the earth held but one and
+not several of these! "One morning, he found his
+morning-star all dimmed and dusky-red; doomsday had
+dawned; they were to meet no more!" Their lips were
+joined for the first time and the last, and Teufelsdröckh
+was made immortal by a kiss. And then&mdash;"thick curtains
+of night rushed over his soul, and he fell, through
+the ruins as of a shivered universe, towards the abyss."</p>
+
+<p>He quietly lifts his pilgrim-staff, and begins a perambulation
+and circumambulation of the terraqueous globe.
+We find him in Paris, in Vienna, in Tartary, in the Sahara,
+flying with hunger always parallel to him, and a
+whole infernal chase in his rear. He traverses mountains
+and valleys with aimless speed, writing with footprints
+his sorrows, that his spirit may free herself, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>
+he become a man. Vain truly is the hope of your swiftest
+runner to escape from his own shadow! We behold
+him, through these dim years, in a state of crisis, of
+transition; his aimless pilgrimings are but a mad fermentation,
+wherefrom, the fiercer it is, the clearer
+product will one day evolve itself.</p>
+
+<p>Man has no other possession but hope; this world of
+his is emphatically the "Place of Hope"; yet our professor,
+for the present, is quite shut out from hope. As
+he wanders wearisomely through this world he has now
+lost all tidings of another and higher. "Doubt," says
+he, "had darkened into unbelief." It is all a grim desert,
+this once fair world of his; and no pillar of cloud
+by day, and no pillar of fire by night, any longer guides
+the pilgrim. "Invisible yet impenetrable walls, as of
+enchantment, divided me from all living; was there, in
+the wide world, any true bosom I could press trustfully
+to mine? O Heaven, no, there was none! To me the
+universe was all void of life, of purpose, of volition, even
+of hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable steam-engine,
+rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me
+limb from limb. O, the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha,
+and mill of death!</p>
+
+<p>"Full of such humour, and perhaps the miserablest
+man in the whole French capital or suburbs, was I, one
+sultry dog-day, after much perambulation, toiling along
+the dirty little Rue Saint Thomas de l'Enfer, among
+civic rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over
+pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar's furnace; whereby
+doubtless my spirits were a little cheered; when, all at
+once, there rose a thought in me, and I asked myself,
+'What <em>art</em> thou afraid of? Wherefore, like a coward,
+dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering
+and trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total
+of the worst that lies before thee? Death? Well, death;
+and say the pangs of Tophet too, and all that the devil
+and man may, will, or can do against thee! Hast thou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>
+not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatever it be; and,
+as a child of freedom, though outcast, trample Tophet
+itself under thy feet, while it consumes thee? Let it
+come, then; I will meet it and defy it!' And, as I so
+thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole
+soul; and I shook base fear away from me for ever. Ever
+from that time, the temper of my misery was changed;
+not fear or whining sorrow was it, but indignation and
+grim fire-eyed defiance.</p>
+
+<p>"Thus had the <em>Everlasting No</em> pealed authoritatively
+through all the recesses of my being, of my <em>Me</em>; and
+then was it that my whole <em>Me</em> stood up, in native God-created
+majesty, and with emphasis recorded its protest.
+The Everlasting No had said, 'Behold, thou art fatherless,
+outcast, and the universe is mine, the devil's'; to
+which my whole <em>Me</em> now made answer, 'I am not thine,
+but free, and for ever hate thee!'</p>
+
+<p>"It is from this hour that I incline to date my spiritual
+new-birth, or Baphometic Fire-baptism; perhaps
+I directly thereupon began to be a man."</p>
+
+<p>Our wanderer's unrest was for a time but increased.
+"Indignation and defiance are not the most peaceable
+inmates," yet it was no longer a quite hopeless unrest.
+He looked away from his own sorrows, over the many-coloured
+world, and few periods of his life were richer
+in spiritual culture than this. He had reached the Centre
+of Indifference wherein he had accepted his own nothingness.
+"I renounced utterly, I would hope no more
+and fear no more. To die or to live was to me alike
+insignificant. Here, then, as I lay in that Centre of Indifference,
+cast by benignant upper influence into a healing
+sleep, the heavy dreams rolled gradually away, and
+I awoke to a new heaven and a new earth. I saw that
+man can do without happiness and instead thereof find
+blessedness. Love not pleasure; love God. This is the
+<em>Everlasting Yea</em>, wherein all contradiction is solved;
+wherein whoso walks and works, it is well with him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span>
+In this poor, miserable, hampered, despicable Actual,
+wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere is thy
+Ideal; work it out therefrom; and working, believe, live,
+be free! Produce! produce! Work while it is called
+to-day."</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Volume on Clothes</i></h4>
+
+<p>In so capricious a work as this of the professor's, our
+course cannot be straightforward, but only leap by leap,
+noting significant indications here and there. Thus,
+"perhaps the most remarkable incident in modern history,"
+he says, "is George Fox's making to himself a
+suit of leather, when, desiring meditation and devout
+prayer to God, he took to the woods, chose the hollow
+of a tree for his lodging and wild berries for his food,
+and for clothes stitched himself one perennial suit of
+leather. Then was there in broad Europe one free man,
+and Fox was he!"</p>
+
+<p>Under the title "Church-Clothes," by which Teufelsdröckh
+signifies the forms, the vestures, under which
+men have at various periods embodied and represented
+for themselves the religious principle, he says, "These
+are unspeakably the most important of all the vestures
+and garnitures of human existence. Church-clothes are
+first spun and woven by society; outward religion originates
+by society; society becomes possible by religion."</p>
+
+<p>Of "symbols," as means of concealment and yet of
+revelation, thus uniting in themselves the efficacies at
+once of speech and of silence, our professor writes, "In
+the symbol proper there is ever, more or less distinctly
+and directly, some embodiment and revelation of the
+Infinite; the Infinite is made to blend itself with the
+finite; to stand visible, and, as it were, attainable there.
+Of this sort are all true works of art; in them, if thou
+know a work of art from a daub of artifice, wilt thou
+discern eternity looking through time; the God-like rendered
+visible. But nobler than all in this kind are the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>
+lives of heroic God-inspired men, for what other work
+of art is so divine?" And again, "Of this be certain,
+wouldst thou plant for eternity, then plant into the deep
+infinite faculties of man, his fantasy and heart; wouldst
+thou plant for year and day, then plant into his shallow
+superficial faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding."</p>
+
+<p>As for Helotage, or that lot of the poor wherein no
+ray of heavenly nor even of earthly knowledge visits him,
+Teufelsdröckh says, "That there should one man die
+ignorant who had capacity for knowledge, this I call a
+tragedy, were it to happen more than twenty times in
+the minute."</p>
+
+<p>In another place, our professor meditates upon the
+awful procession of mankind. "Like a God-created,
+fire-breathing spirit-host, we emerge from the inane;
+haste stormfully across the astonished earth; then
+plunge again into the inane. But whence?&mdash;O Heaven,
+whither? Sense knows not; Faith knows not; only
+that it is through mystery to mystery, from God and to
+God.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="iq">"We are such stuff<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As dreams are made of, and our little life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is rounded with a sleep!"<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2 id="ch_70"><a name="MARCUS_TULLIUS_CICERO" id="MARCUS_TULLIUS_CICERO">MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Concerning Friendship</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>The dialogue "Concerning Friendship" was composed immediately
+after the assassination of Julius Cæsar, and was suggested
+by the conduct of certain friends of the mighty dead,
+who were trying, in the name of friendship, to inflame the
+populace against the cause of the conspirators. (Cicero biography,
+see Vol. IX, p. 155, and also p. <a href="#Page_274">274</a> of the present volume.)</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>A Dialogue</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fannius</span>: I agree with you, Lælius; never was man
+better known for justice or for glory than Scipio Africanus.
+That is why everyone in Rome is looking to you;
+everyone is asking me, and Scævola here, how the wise
+Lælius is bearing the loss of his dead friend. For they
+call you wise, you know, in the same sense as the oracle
+called Socrates wise, because you believe that your happiness
+depends on yourself alone, and that virtue can
+fortify the soul against every calamity. May we know,
+then, how you bear your sorrow?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scævola</span>: He says truly; many have asked me the
+same question. I tell them that you are composed and
+patient, though deeply touched by the death of your
+dearest friend, and one of the greatest of men.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lælius</span>: You have answered well. True it is that I
+sorrow for a friend whose like I shall never see again;
+but it is also true that I need no consolations, since I
+believe that no evil has befallen Scipio. Whatever misfortune
+there is, is my misfortune, and any immoderate
+distress would show self-love, not love for him. What
+a man he was! Well, he is in heaven; and I sometimes
+hope that the friendship of Scipio and Lælius may live
+in human memory.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Fannius</span>: Yes&mdash;your friendship: what do you believe
+about friendship?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scævola</span>: That's what we want to know.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lælius</span>: Who am I, to speak on such a subject all on
+a sudden? You should go to these Greek professionals,
+who can spin you a discourse on anything at a moment's
+notice. For my part, I can only advise this&mdash;prize
+friendship above all earthly things. We seem to be made
+for friendship; it is our great stand-by whether in weal
+or woe. Yet I can say this too: friendship cannot be
+except among the good. I don't mean a fantastical and
+unattainable pitch of goodness such as the philosophers
+prate about; I mean the genuine, commonplace goodness
+of flesh and blood, that actually exists. I mean such
+men as live in honour, justice, and liberality, and are
+consistent, and are neither covetous nor licentious, nor
+brazen-faced; such men are good enough for us, because
+they follow Nature as far as they can.</p>
+
+<p>Friendship consists of a perfect conformity of opinion
+upon all subjects, divine and human, together with a
+feeling of kindness and attachment. And though some
+prefer riches, health, power, honours, or even pleasure,
+no greater boon than friendship, with the single exception
+of wisdom, has been given by the gods to man. It
+is quite true that our highest good depends on virtue; but
+virtue inevitably begets and nourishes friendship. What
+a part, for instance, friendship has played in the lives of
+the good men we have known&mdash;the Catos, the Galli, the
+Scipios, and the like!</p>
+
+<p>How manifold, again, are its benefits! What greater
+delight is there than to have one with whom you may
+talk as if with yourself? One who will joy in your good
+fortune, and bear the heaviest end of your burdens!
+Other things are good for particular purposes, friendship
+for all; neither water nor fire has so many uses.
+But in one respect friendship transcends everything
+else: it throws a brilliant gleam of hope over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>
+future, and banishes despondency. Whoever has a true
+friend sees in him a reflection of himself; and each
+is strong in the strength and rich in the wealth of the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>If you consider that the principle of harmony and
+benevolence is necessary to the very existence of families
+and states, you will understand how high a thing is
+friendship, in which that harmony and benevolence reach
+their perfect flower. There was a philosopher of Agrigentum
+who explained the properties of matter and the
+movements of bodies in terms of affection and repulsion;
+and however that may be, everyone knows that these are
+the real forces in human life. Who does not applaud
+the friendship that shares in mortal dangers, whether in
+real life or in the play?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scævola</span>: You speak highly of friendship. What are
+its principles and duties?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lælius</span>: Do we desire a friend because of our own
+weakness and deficiency, in order that we may obtain from
+him what we lack ourselves, repaying him by reciprocal
+service? Or is all that only an incident of friendship,
+and does the bond derive from a remoter and more beautiful
+origin, in the heart of Nature herself? For my
+part, I take the latter view. Friendship is a natural
+emotion, and not an arrangement of convenience. Its
+character may be recognised even in the lower animals,
+and much more plainly in the love of human parents for
+their children, and, most of all, in our affection for a
+congenial friend, whom we see in an atmosphere of
+virtue and worth.</p>
+
+<p>The other is not an ignoble theory, but it leaves us in
+the difficulty that if it were true, the weakest, meanest,
+and poorest of humanity would be the most inclined to
+friendship. But it is the strong, rich, independent, and
+self-reliant man, deeply founded in wisdom and dignity,
+who makes great friendships. What did Africanus need
+of me, or I of him? Advantages followed, but they did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span>
+not lead. But there are people who will always be referring
+everything to the one principle of self-advantage;
+they have no eyes for anything great and god-like. Let
+us leave such theorists alone; the plain fact is, that whenever
+worth is seen, love for it is enkindled. Associations
+founded upon interest presently dissolve, because interest
+changes; but Nature never changes, and therefore true
+friendships are imperishable.</p>
+
+<p>Scipio used to say that it was exceedingly difficult to
+carry on a friendship to the end of life, because the paths
+of interest so often diverge. There may be competition
+for office, or a dishonorable request may be refused, or
+some other accident may be fatal to the bond. This
+refusal to join in a nefarious course of action is often
+the end of a friendship, and it is worth inquiring how
+far the claims of affection ought to extend. Tiberius
+Gracchus, when he troubled the state, was deserted by
+almost all his friends; one of them who had assisted him
+told me that he had such high regard for Gracchus that
+he could refuse him nothing. "But what," said I, "if
+he had asked you to set fire to the capitol?" "I would
+have done it!"</p>
+
+<p>What an infamous confession! No degree of friendship
+can justify a crime; and since virtue is the foundation
+of friendship, crime must inevitably undermine it.
+Let this, then, be the rule of friendship&mdash;never to make
+disgraceful requests, and never to grant them when they
+are made.</p>
+
+<p>Among the perverse, over-subtle ideas of certain
+Greek philosophers is the maxim that we should be very
+cool in the matter of friendship. They say that we have
+enough to do with our own affairs, without taking on
+other people's affairs too; and that our minds cannot be
+serenely at leisure if we are liable to be tortured by the
+sorrows of a friend. They advise, also, that friendships
+should be sought for the sake of protection, and not for
+the sake of kindliness. O noble philosophy! They put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span>
+out the sun in the heavens, and offer us instead a freedom
+from care that is worse than worthless. Virtue has
+not a heart of stone, but is gentle and compassionate,
+rejoicing with the joyful and weeping with those who
+mourn. True virtue is never unsocial, never haughty.</p>
+
+<p>With regard to the limits of friendship, I have heard
+three several maxims, but disapprove them all. First,
+that we ought to feel towards our friend exactly as we
+feel towards ourselves. That would never do; for we
+do many things for our friends that we should never
+think of doing for ourselves. We ask favours and reprehend
+injuries for a friend, where we would not solicit
+for, or defend, ourselves. Secondly, that our kindness
+to a friend should be meted out in precise equipoise to
+his kindness to us. This is too miserable a theory:
+friendship is opulent and generous. The third is, that
+we should take our friend's own estimate of himself, and
+act upon it. This is the worst principle of the three; for
+if our friend is over-humble, diffident or despondent, it
+is the very business of friendship to cheer him and urge
+him on. But Scipio used to condemn yet another principle
+that is worse still. Some one&mdash;he thought it must
+have been a bad man&mdash;once said that we ought to remember
+in friendship that some day the friend might be
+an enemy. How, in that state of mind, could one be a
+friend at all?</p>
+
+<p>A sound principle, I think, is this. In the friendship
+of upright men there ought to be an unrestricted communication
+of every interest, every purpose, every inclination.
+Then, in any matter of importance to the life
+or reputation of your friend, you may deviate a little
+from the strictest line of conduct so long as you do not
+do anything that is actually infamous. Then, with regard
+to the choice of friends, Scipio used to say that men
+were more careful about their sheep and goats than
+about their friends. Choose men of constancy, solidity,
+and firmness; and until their trustworthiness has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span>
+tested, be moderate in your affection and confidence.
+Seek first of all for sincerity. Your friend should also
+have an open, genial, and sociable temper, and his sympathies
+should be the same as yours. He must not be
+ready to believe accusations. Lastly, his talk and manner
+should be debonair; we don't want austerities and
+solemnities in friendship.</p>
+
+<p>I have heard it suggested that we ought perhaps to
+prefer new friends to old, as we prefer a young horse
+to an old one. Satiety should have no place in friendship.
+Old wines are the best, and so are the friends of
+many years. Do not despise the acquaintance that promises
+to ripen into something better; but do not sacrifice
+for it the deeply rooted intimacy. Even inanimate things
+take hold of our hearts by long custom; we love the
+mountains and forests of our youth.</p>
+
+<p>There is often a great disparity in respect of rank or
+talent between intimate friends. Whenever that is so,
+let the superior place himself on the level of the inferior;
+let him share all his advantages with his friend. The
+best way to reap the full harvest of genius, or of merit,
+or of any other excellence, is to encourage all one's kindred
+and associates to enjoy it too. But if the superior
+ought to condescend to the inferior, so the inferior ought
+to be free from envy. And let him not make a fuss
+about such services as he has been able to render.</p>
+
+<p>To pass from the noble friendships of the wise to more
+commonplace intimacies, we cannot leave out of account
+the necessity that sometimes arises of breaking off a
+friendship. A man falls into scandalous courses, his
+disgrace is reflected on his companions, and their relation
+must come to an end. Well, the end had best come
+gradually and gently, unless the offence is so detestable
+that an abrupt and final cutting of the acquaintance is
+absolutely inevitable. Disengage, if possible, rather than
+cut. And let the matter end with estrangement; let it
+not proceed to active animosity and hostility. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>
+very unbecoming to engage in public war with a man
+who has been known as one's friend. On two separate
+occasions Scipio thought it right to withdraw his confidence
+from certain friends. In each case he kept his
+dignity and self-command; he was grieved, but never
+bitter. Of course, the best way to guard against such
+unfortunate occurrences is to take the greatest care in
+forming friendships. All excellence is rare, and that
+moral excellence which makes fit objects for friendship
+is as rare as any.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, it would be unreasonable and presumptuous
+in anyone to expect to find a friend of a
+quality to which he himself can never hope to attain, or
+to demand from his friend an indulgence which he is not
+prepared himself to offer. Friendship was given us to
+be an incentive to virtue, and not as an indulgence to vice
+or to mediocrity; in order that, since a solitary virtue
+cannot scale the peaks, it may do so with the loyal help
+of a comrade. A comradeship of this kind includes within
+it all that men most desire.</p>
+
+<p>Think nobly of friendship, and conduct yourselves
+wisely in it, for in one way or another it enters into the
+life of every man. Even Timon of Athens, whose one
+impulse was a brutal misanthropy, must needs seek a
+confidant into whose mind he may instil his detestable
+venom. I have heard, and I agree with it, that though a
+man should contemplate from the heavens the universal
+beauty of creation, he would soon weary of it without a
+companion for his admiration.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, there are rubs in friendship which a sensible
+man will learn to avoid, or to ignore, or to bear
+them cheerfully. Admonitions and reproofs must have
+their part in true amity, and it is as difficult to utter them
+tactfully as it is to receive them in good part. Complaisance
+seems more propitious to friendship than are these
+naked truths. But though truth may be painful, complaisance
+is more likely in the long run to prove disastrous.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span>
+It is no kindness to allow a friend to rush headlong
+to ruin. Let your remonstrances be free from bitterness
+and from insult; let your complaisance be affable,
+but never servile. As for adulation, there are no words
+bad enough for it. Even the populace have only contempt
+for the politician who flatters them. Despise the
+insinuations of the sycophant, for what is more shameful
+than to be made a fool of?</p>
+
+<p>I tell you, sirs, that it is virtue that lasts; that begets
+real friendships and maintains them. Lay, therefore,
+while you are young, the foundations of a virtuous life.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_78"><a name="WILLIAM_COBBETT" id="WILLIAM_COBBETT">WILLIAM COBBETT</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Advice to Young Men</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>William Cobbett, the celebrated English political writer, was
+born in March, 1762, at Farnham in Surrey. He took a dislike
+to rural occupations, and at an early age went to London, where
+he was employed for a few months as a copying clerk. This
+work was distasteful to him, and he enlisted in the army, and
+went with his regiment to Nova Scotia. On returning to England
+in 1791, he obtained his discharge, married, and went to
+America. In Philadelphia he commenced his career as a political
+writer. Cobbett's "Advice to Young Men" was published in
+1830. It has always been the most popular of his books, partly
+because of its subject, and partly because it illustrates so well
+the bold and forceful directness of his style. An intensely
+egotistical and confident man, Cobbett believed that his own
+strangely inconsistent life was a model for all men. Yet, contrary
+to what might have been expected, he was a delightful
+man in the domestic circle, and the story of his marriage&mdash;which
+has been narrated in his "Rural Rides"&mdash;is one of the
+romances of literary life. The original introduction to the
+"Advice" contained personal reference incredible in anyone
+except Cobbett. Said he, "Few will be disposed to question
+my fitness for the task. If such a man be not qualified to give
+advice, no man is qualified." And he went on to claim for
+himself "genius and something more." He certainly had a remarkable
+fund of commonsense, except when his subject was
+himself. Cobbett died June 18, 1835.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;To a Youth</i></h4>
+
+<p>You are arrived, let us suppose, at the age of from
+fourteen to nearly twenty, and I here offer you my
+advice towards making you a happy man, useful to all
+about you, and an honour to those from whom you
+sprang. Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly
+fixed in your mind that you have no right to live in
+this world without doing work of some sort or other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span>
+To wish to live on the labour of others is to contemplate
+a fraud.</p>
+
+<p>Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is
+to be found only in independence. Turn your back
+on what is called interest. Write it on your heart that
+you will depend solely on your own merit and your
+own exertions, for that which a man owes to favour
+or to partiality, that same favour or partiality is constantly
+liable to take from him.</p>
+
+<p>The great source of independence the French express
+in three words, "<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Vivre de peu</i>." "To live upon
+little" is the great security against slavery; and this
+precept extends to dress and other things besides food
+and drink. Extravagance in dress arises from the notion
+that all the people in the street will be looking at you
+as you walk out; but all the sensible people that happen
+to see you will think nothing at all about you. Natural
+beauty of person always will and must have some weight,
+even with men, and great weight with women; but this
+does not want to be set off by expensive clothes.</p>
+
+<p>A love of what is called "good eating and drinking,"
+if very unamiable in a grown-up person, is perfectly
+hateful in a youth. I have never known such a man
+worthy of respect.</p>
+
+<p>Next, as to amusements. Dancing is at once rational
+and healthful; it is the natural amusement of
+young people, and none but the most grovelling and
+hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and despicable
+fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. As to
+gaming, it is always criminal, either in itself or in its
+tendency. The basis of it is covetousness; a desire
+to take from others something for which you have
+given, and intend to give, no equivalent.</p>
+
+<p>Be careful in choosing your companions; and lay
+down as a rule never to be departed from that no youth
+or man ought to be called your friend who is addicted
+to indecent talk.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span>
+In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt, but
+even these are preferable to simpering and crawling.
+Be obedient where obedience is due; for it is no act
+of meanness to yield implicit and ready obedience to
+those who have a right to demand it at your hands.
+None are so saucy and disobedient as slaves; and,
+when you come to read history, you will find that in
+proportion as nations have been free has been their
+reverence for the laws.</p>
+
+<p>Let me now turn to the things which you ought
+to do. And, first of all, the husbanding of your time.
+Young people require more sleep than those that are
+grown up, and the number of hours cannot well be, on
+an average, less than eight. An hour in bed is better
+than an hours spent over the fire in an idle gossip.</p>
+
+<p>Money is said to be power; but superior sobriety,
+industry, and activity are still a more certain source
+of power. Booklearning is not only proper, but highly
+commendable; and portions of it are absolutely necessary
+in every case of trade or profession. One of these
+portions is distinct reading, plain and neat writing, and
+arithmetic. The next thing is the grammar of your
+own language, for grammar is the foundation of all
+literature. Excellence in your own calling is the first
+thing to be aimed at. After this may come general
+knowledge. Geography naturally follows grammar;
+and you should begin with that of this kingdom.
+When you come to history, begin also with that of
+your own country; and here it is my bounded duty to
+put you well on your guard. The works of our historians
+are, as far as they relate to former times, masses
+of lies unmatched by any others that the world has
+ever seen.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;To a Young Man</i></h4>
+
+<p>To be poor and independent is very nearly an impossibility;
+though poverty is, except where there is an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>
+actual want of food and raiment, a thing much more
+imaginary than real. Resolve to set this false shame
+of being poor at defiance. Nevertheless, men ought
+to take care of their names, ought to use them prudently
+and sparingly, and to keep their expenses always
+within the bounds of their income, be it what it may.</p>
+
+<p>One of the effectual means of doing this is to purchase
+with ready money. Innumerable things are not
+bought at all with ready money which would be bought
+in case of trust; it is so much easier to order a thing
+than to pay for it. I believe that, generally speaking,
+you pay for the same article a fourth part more in the
+case of trust than you do in the case of ready money.
+The purchasing with ready money really means that
+you have more money to purchase with.</p>
+
+<p>A great evil arising from the desire not to be thought
+poor is the destructive thing honoured by the name of
+"speculation," but which ought to be called gambling.
+It is a purchasing of something to be sold again with
+a great profit at a considerable hazard. Your life,
+while you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester:
+a life of general gloom, enlivened now and then by
+a gleam of hope or of success.</p>
+
+<p>In all situations of life avoid the trammels of the
+law. If you win your suit and are poorer than you
+were before, what do you accomplish? Better to put
+up with the loss of one pound than with two, with
+all the loss of time and all the mortification and anxiety
+attending a law suit.</p>
+
+<p>Unless your business or your profession be duly attended
+to there can be no real pleasure in any other
+employment of a portion of your time. Men, however,
+must have some leisure, some relaxation from business;
+and in the choice of this relaxation much of your happiness
+will depend.</p>
+
+<p>Where fields and gardens are at hand, they present
+the most rational scenes for leisure. Nothing can be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span>
+more stupid than sitting, sotting over a pot and a glass,
+sending out smoke from the head, and articulating, at
+intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things.</p>
+
+<p>Another mode of spending the leisure time is that
+of books. To come at the true history of a country
+you must read its laws; you must read books treating
+of its usages and customs in former times; and you
+must particularly inform yourselves as to prices of labour
+and of food. But there is one thing always to be
+guarded against, and that is not to admire and applaud
+anything you read merely because it is the fashion to
+admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what you
+read, form your own judgments, and stand by that
+judgment until fact or argument be offered to convince
+you of your error.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;To a Lover</i></h4>
+
+<p>There are two descriptions of lovers on whom all
+advice would be wasted, namely, those in whose minds
+passion so wholly overpowers reason as to deprive the
+party of his sober senses, and those who love according
+to the rules of arithmetic, or measure their matrimonial
+expectations by the claim of the land-surveyor.</p>
+
+<p>I address myself to the reader whom I suppose to
+be a real lover, but not so smitten as to be bereft of
+reason. You should never forget that marriage is a
+thing to last for life, and that, generally speaking, it is
+to make life happy or miserable.</p>
+
+<p>The things which you ought to desire in a wife are
+chastity, sobriety, industry, frugality, cleanliness,
+knowledge of domestic affairs, good temper and beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even
+thought, is so essential that without it no female is fit
+to be a wife. If prudery mean false modesty, it is to
+be despised; but if it mean modesty pushed to the utmost
+extent, I confess that I like it. The very elements<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span>
+of jealousy ought to be avoided, and the only
+safeguard is to begin well and so render infidelity and
+jealousy next to impossible.</p>
+
+<p>By sobriety I mean sobriety of conduct. When
+girls arrive at that age which turns their thoughts towards
+the command of a house it is time for them to
+cast away the levity of a child. Sobriety is a title to
+trustworthiness, and that is a treasure to prize above
+all others. But in order to possess this precious trustworthiness
+you must exercise your reason in the choice
+of a partner. If she be vain, fond of flattery, given to
+gadding about, coquettish, she will never be trustworthy,
+and you will be unjust if you expect it at her
+hands. But if you find in her that innate sobriety of
+which I have been speaking, there requires on your
+part confidence and trust without any limit.</p>
+
+<p>An ardent-minded young man may fear that sobriety
+of conduct in a young woman argues a want of
+warmth; but my observation and experience tell me
+that levity, not sobriety, is, ninety-nine times out of a
+hundred, the companion of a want of ardent feeling.</p>
+
+<p>There is no state in life in which industry in the
+wife is not necessary to the happiness and prosperity
+of the family. If she be lazy there will always be a
+heavy arrear of things unperformed, and this, even
+among the wealthy, is a great curse. But who is to
+tell whether a girl will make an industrious woman?
+There are certain outward signs, which, if attended to
+with care, will serve as pretty sure guides.</p>
+
+<p>If you find the tongue lazy you may be nearly certain
+that the hands and feet are the same. The pronunciation
+of an industrious person is generally quick,
+distinct, and firm. Another mark of industry is a quick
+step and a tread showing that the foot comes down
+with a hearty good will.</p>
+
+<p>Early rising is another mark of industry. It is, I
+should imagine, pretty difficult to keep love alive towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>
+a woman who never sees the dew, never beholds
+the rising sun.</p>
+
+<p>Frugality. This means the contrary of extravagance.
+It does not mean stinginess; it means an abstaining
+from all unnecessary expenditure. The outward and
+vulgar signs of extravagance are all the hardware
+which women put upon their persons. The girl who
+has not the sense to perceive that her person is disfigured,
+and not beautified by parcels of brass, tin, and
+other hardware stuck about her body, is too great a
+fool to be trusted with the purse of any man.</p>
+
+<p>Cleanliness is a capital ingredient. Occasional cleanliness
+is not the thing that an English or American
+husband wants; he wants it always. A sloven in one
+thing is a sloven in all things. Make up your mind to
+a rope rather than to live with a slip-shod wife.</p>
+
+<p>Knowledge of domestic affairs is so necessary in
+every wife that the lover ought to have it continually
+in his eye. A wife must not only know how things
+ought to be done, but how to do them. I cannot form
+an idea of a more unfortunate being than a girl with
+a mere boarding-school education and without a future
+to enable her to keep a servant when married. Of
+what use are her accomplishments?</p>
+
+<p>Good temper is a very difficult thing to ascertain
+beforehand&mdash;smiles are so cheap. By "good temper"
+I do not mean easy temper&mdash;a serenity which nothing
+disturbs is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, querulousness,
+cold indifference, pertinacity in having the last
+word, are bad things in a young woman, but of all the
+faults of temper your melancholy ladies are the worst.
+Most wives are at times misery-makers, but the melancholy
+carry it on as a regular trade.</p>
+
+<p>The great use of female beauty is that it naturally
+tends to keep the husband in good humour with himself,
+to make him pleased with his bargain.</p>
+
+<p>As to constancy in lovers, even when marriage has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span>
+been promised, and that, too, in the most solemn
+manner, it is better for both parties to break off than to
+be coupled together with the reluctant assent of either.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;To a Husband</i></h4>
+
+<p>It is as a husband that your conduct will have the
+greatest effect on your happiness. All in a wife, beyond
+her own natural disposition and education, is,
+nine times out of ten, the work of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>First convince her of the necessity of moderation in
+expense; make her clearly see the justice of beginning
+to act upon the presumption that there are children
+coming. The great danger of all is beginning with a
+servant. The wife is young, and why is she not to
+work as well as her husband? If the wife be not able
+to do all the work to be done in the house, she ought
+not to have been able to marry.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing to be attended to is your demeanour
+towards a young wife. The first frown that she receives
+from you is a dagger to her heart. Let nothing
+put you out of humour with her.</p>
+
+<p>Every husband who spends his leisure time in company
+other than that of his wife and family tells her
+and them that he takes more delight in other company
+than in theirs. Resolve from the very first never
+to spend an hour from home unless business or some
+necessary and rational purpose demand it. If you
+are called away your wife ought to be fully apprised
+of the probable duration of the absence and of the time
+of return. When we consider what a young woman
+gives up on her wedding day, how can a just man think
+anything a trifle that affects her happiness?</p>
+
+<p>Though these considerations may demand from us
+the kindest possible treatment of a wife, the husband is
+to expect dutiful deportment at her hands. A husband
+under command is the most contemptible of God's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span>
+creatures. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recommending
+disregard of the wife's opinions and wishes?
+By no means. But the very nature of things prescribes
+that there must be a head of every house, and
+an undivided authority. The wife ought to be heard,
+and patiently heard; she ought to be reasoned with,
+and, if possible, convinced; but if she remain opposed
+to the husband's opinion, his will must be
+obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>I now come to that great bane of families&mdash;jealousy.
+One thing every husband can do in the way of prevention,
+and that is to give no ground for it. Few characters
+are more despicable than that of a jealous-headed
+husband, and that, not because he has grounds,
+but because he has not grounds.</p>
+
+<p>If to be happy in the married state requires these
+precautions, you may ask: Is it not better to remain
+single? The cares and troubles of the married life are
+many, but are those of the single life few? Without
+wives men are poor, helpless mortals.</p>
+
+<p>As to the expense, I firmly believe that a farmer
+married at twenty-five, and having ten children during
+the first ten years, would be able to save more money
+during these years than a bachelor of the same age
+would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like
+space of time. The bachelor has no one on whom he
+can in all cases rely. To me, no being in this world
+appears so wretched as he.</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;To a Father</i></h4>
+
+<p>It is yourself that you see in your children. They
+are the great and unspeakable delight of your youth,
+the pride of your prime of life, and the props of your
+old age. From the very beginning ensure in them, if
+possible, an ardent love for their mother. Your first
+duty towards them is resolutely to prevent their drawing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span>
+the means of life from any breast but hers. That
+is their own; it is their birthright.</p>
+
+<p>The man who is to gain a living by his labour must
+be drawn away from home; but this will not, if he be
+made of good stuff, prevent him from doing his share
+of the duty due to his children. There ought to be no
+toils, no watchings, no breakings of rest, imposed by
+this duty, of which he ought not to perform his full
+share, and that, too, without grudging. The working
+man, in whatever line, and whether in town or country,
+who spends his day of rest away from his wife and
+children is not worthy of the name of father.</p>
+
+<p>The first thing in the rearing of children who have
+passed from the baby state is, as to the body, plenty
+of good food; and, as to the mind, constant good example
+in the parents. There is no other reason for the
+people in the American states being generally so much
+taller and stronger than the people in England are, but
+that, from their birth, they have an abundance of good
+food; not only of food, but of rich food. Nor is this,
+in any point of view, an unimportant matter, for a tall
+man is worth more than a short man. Good food, and
+plenty of it, is not more necessary to the forming of a
+stout and able body than to the forming of an active
+and enterprising spirit. Children should eat often, and
+as much as they like at a time. They will never take,
+of plain food, more than it is good for them to take.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing after good and plentiful and plain
+food is good air. Besides sweet air, children want exercise.
+Even when they are babies in arms they want
+tossing and pulling about, and talking and singing to.
+They will, when they begin, take, if you let them alone,
+just as much exercise as nature bids them, and no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>I am of opinion that it is injurious to the mind to
+press book-learning upon a child at an early age. I
+must impress my opinion upon every father that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span>
+children's happiness ought to be his first object; that
+book-learning, if it tend to militate against this, ought
+to be disregarded. A man may read books for ever
+and be an ignorant creature at last, and even the more
+ignorant for his reading.</p>
+
+<p>And with regard to young women, everlasting book-reading
+is absolutely a vice. When they once get into
+the habit they neglect all other matters, and, in some
+cases, even their very dress. Attending to the affairs
+of the house&mdash;to the washing, the baking, the brewing,
+the cooking of victuals, the management of the poultry
+and the garden, these are their proper occupations.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;To the Citizen</i></h4>
+
+<p>Having now given my advice to the youth, the man,
+the lover, the husband, and the father, I shall tender
+it to the citizen. To act well our part as citizens we
+ought clearly to understand what our rights are; for
+on our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights
+going before duties, as value received goes before payments.
+The great right of all is the right of taking
+a part in the making of the laws by which we are governed.</p>
+
+<p>It is the duty of every man to defend his country
+against an enemy, a duty imposed by the law of nature
+as well as by that of civil society. Yet how are you to
+maintain that this is the duty of every man if you deny
+to some men the enjoyment of a share in making the
+laws? The poor man has a body and a soul as well
+as the rich man; like the latter, he has parents, wife,
+and children; a bullet or a sword is as deadly to him
+as to the rich man; yet, notwithstanding this equality,
+he is to risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied
+an equality of rights! Why are the poor to risk
+their lives? To uphold the laws and to protect property&mdash;property
+of which they are said to possess none?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span>
+What! compel men to come forth and risk their lives
+for the protection of property, and then in the same
+breath tell them that they are not allowed to share in
+the making of the laws, because, and only because,
+they have no property!</p>
+
+<p>Here, young man of sense and of spirit, here is the
+point on which you are to take your stand. There are
+always men enough to plead the cause of the rich, and
+to echo the woes of the fallen great; but be it your part
+to show compassion for those who labour, and to maintain
+their rights.</p>
+
+<p>If the right to have a share in making the laws were
+merely a feather, if it were a fanciful thing, if it were
+only a speculative theory, if it were but an abstract
+principle, it might be considered as of little importance.
+But it is none of these; it is a practical matter. Who
+lets another man put his hand into his purse when he
+pleases? It is the first duty of every man to do all in
+his power to maintain this right of self-government
+where it exists, and to restore it where it has been lost.
+Men are in such a case labouring, not for the present
+day only, but for ages to come. If life should not allow
+them time to see their endeavours crowned, their
+children will see it.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_90"><a name="DANIEL_DEFOE" id="DANIEL_DEFOE">DANIEL DEFOE</a></h2>
+
+<h3>A Journal of the Plague Year</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"A Journal of the Plague Year" appeared in 1722. In its
+second edition it received the title of "A History of the
+Plague." This book was suggested by the public anxiety caused
+by a fearful visitation of the plague at Marseilles in the two
+preceding years. As an account of the epidemic in London, it
+has all the vividness of Defoe's fiction, while it is acknowledged
+to be historically accurate. (Defoe biography, see Vol. III, p. 26.)</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;A Stricken City</i></h4>
+
+<p>It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I,
+among the rest of my neighbours, heard that the plague
+was returned again in Holland. We had no such thing
+as printed newspapers in those days to spread rumours
+and reports of things; but such things as these were
+gathered from the letters of merchants, and from them
+were handed about by word of mouth only. In December,
+two Frenchmen died of the plague in Long Acre, or,
+rather, at the upper end of Drury Lane. The secretaries
+of state got knowledge of it, and two physicians and a
+surgeon were ordered to go to the house and make inspection.
+This they did, and, finding evident tokens of
+the sickness upon both the bodies, they gave their opinions
+publicly, that they died of the plague; whereupon it was
+given in to the parish clerk, and he also returned them
+to the Hall; and it was printed in the weekly bill of
+mortality in the usual manner, thus:</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+Plague, 2; Parishes infected, 1.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The distemper spread slowly, and in the beginning of
+May, the city being healthy, we began to hope that as the
+infection was chiefly among the people at the other end
+of the town, it might go no further. We continued in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span>
+these hopes for a few days, but it was only for a few, for
+the people were no more to be deceived thus; they
+searched the houses, and found that the plague was really
+spread every way, and that many died of it every day;
+and accordingly, in the weekly bill for the next week, the
+thing began to show itself. There was, indeed, but fourteen
+set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and
+collusion.</p>
+
+<p>Now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in
+June the infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the
+bills rose high. Yet all that could conceal their distempers
+did it to prevent their neighbours shunning them,
+and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses.</p>
+
+<p>I lived without Aldgate, midway between Aldgate
+church and Whitechapel Bars, and our neighbourhood
+continued very easy. But at the other end of the town
+their consternation was very great, and the richer sort of
+people, especially the nobility and gentry, from the west
+part of the city, thronged out of town with their families
+and servants. In Whitechapel, where I lived, nothing
+was to be seen but waggons and carts, with goods, women,
+servants, children, etc., all hurrying away. This was a
+very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and it filled me
+with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming
+upon the city.</p>
+
+<p>I now began to consider seriously how I should dispose
+of myself, whether I should resolve to stay in London, or
+shut up my house and flee. I had two important things
+before me: the carrying on of my business and shop, and
+the preservation of my life in so dismal a calamity. My
+trade was a saddler, and though a single man, I had a
+family of servants and a house and warehouses filled with
+goods, and to leave them all without any overseer had
+been to hazard the loss of all I had in the world.</p>
+
+<p>I had resolved to go; but, one way or other, I always
+found that to appoint to go away was always crossed by
+some accident or other, so as to disappoint and put it off<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span>
+again; and I advise every person, in such a case, to keep
+his eye upon the particular providences which occur at
+that time, and take them as intimations from Heaven of
+what is his unquestioned duty to do in such a case. Add
+to this, that, turning over the Bible which lay before me,
+I cried out, "Well, I know not what to do; Lord, direct
+me!" and at that juncture, casting my eye down, I read:
+"Thou shalt not be afraid for the pestilence that walketh
+in darkness.... A thousand shall fall at thy side,
+and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come
+nigh thee." I scarce need tell the reader that from that
+moment I resolved that I would stay in the town, casting
+myself entirely upon the protection of the Almighty.</p>
+
+<p>The court removed in the month of June, and went to
+Oxford, where it pleased God to preserve them; for
+which I cannot say they showed any great token of thankfulness,
+and hardly anything of reformation, though they
+did not want being told that their crying voices might,
+without breach of charity, have gone far in bringing that
+terrible judgment upon the whole nation.</p>
+
+<p>A blazing star or comet had appeared for several
+months before the plague, and there had been universal
+melancholy apprehensions of some dreadful calamity.
+The people were at this time more addicted to prophecies,
+dreams, and old wives' fables, than ever they were before
+or since. Some ran about the streets with oral predictions,
+one crying, "Yet forty days, and London shall be
+destroyed!" Another poor naked creature cried, "Oh,
+the great and dreadful God!" repeating these words continually,
+with voice and countenance full of horror, and
+a swift pace, and nobody could ever find him to stop.
+Some saw a flaming sword in a hand coming out of a
+cloud; others, hearses and coffins in the air; others, heaps
+of dead bodies unburied. But those who were really
+serious and religious applied themselves in a truly Christian
+manner to the proper work of repentance and humiliation.
+Many consciences were awakened, many hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>
+hearts melted into tears. People might be heard in the
+streets as we passed along, calling upon God for mercy,
+and saying, "I have been a thief," or "a murderer," and
+the like; and none dared stop to make the least inquiry
+into such things, or to comfort the poor creatures that
+thus cried out. The face of London was now strangely
+altered; it was all in tears; the shrieks of women and
+children at the windows and doors, where their dearest
+relations were dead, were enough to pierce the stoutest
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>About June, the lord mayor and aldermen began more
+particularly to concern themselves for the regulation of
+the city, by the shutting up of houses. Examiners were
+appointed in every parish to order the house to be shut
+up wherever any person sick of the infection was found.
+A night watchman and a day watchman were appointed
+to each infected house to prevent any person from coming
+out or going into the same. Women searchers were
+appointed in each parish to examine the bodies of such
+as were dead, to see if they had died of the infection, and
+over these were appointed physicians and chirurgeons.
+Other orders were made with regard to giving notice of
+sickness, sequestration of the sick, airing the goods and
+bedding of the infected, burial of the dead, cleansing of
+the streets, forbidding wandering beggars, loose persons,
+and idle assemblages, and the like. One of these orders
+was&mdash;"That every house visited be marked with a red
+cross of a foot long, in the middle of the door, with these
+words, '<span class="smcap">Lord have mercy upon us</span>,' to be set close over
+the same cross." Many got out of their houses by
+stratagem after they were shut up, and thus spread the
+plague; in one place they blowed up their watchman with
+gunpowder and burnt the poor fellow dreadfully, and
+while he made hideous cries, the whole family got out
+at the windows; others got out by bribing the watchman,
+and I have seen three watchmen publicly whipped through
+the streets for suffering people to go out.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;How the Dead Were Buried</i></h4>
+
+<p>I went all the first part of the time freely about the
+streets, and when they dug the great pit in the churchyard
+of Aldgate I could not resist going to see it. A terrible
+pit it was, forty feet long, about sixteen wide, and in one
+part they dug it to near twenty feet deep, until they could
+go no deeper for the water. It was filled in just two
+weeks, when they had thrown into it 1,114 bodies from
+our own parish.</p>
+
+<p>I got admittance into the churchyard by the sexton,
+who at first refused me, but at last said: "Name of God,
+go in; depend upon it, 'twill be a sermon to you, it may
+be the best that ever you heard. It is a speaking sight,"
+says he; and with that he opened the door and said,
+"Go, if you will." I stood wavering for a good while,
+but just at that interval I saw two links come over from
+the end of the Minories, and heard the bellman, and
+then appeared a dead-cart coming over the streets, so I
+went in.</p>
+
+<p>The scene was awful and full of terror. The cart had
+in it sixteen or seventeen bodies; some were wrapped in
+sheets or rugs, some little other than naked, or so loose
+that what covering they had fell from them in the shooting
+out of the cart, and they fell quite naked among the
+rest. But the matter was not much to them, seeing they
+were all dead, and were to be huddled together into the
+common grave of mankind, as we may call it; for here
+was no difference made, but poor and rich went together.
+The cart was turned round, and the bodies shot into the
+pit promiscuously.</p>
+
+<p>There was following the cart a poor unhappy gentleman
+who fell down in a swoon when the bodies were shot
+into the pit. The buriers ran to him and took him up,
+and after he had come to himself, they led him away to
+the Pye tavern, over against the end of Houndsditch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>
+His case lay so heavy on my mind that after I had gone
+home I must go out again into the street and go to the
+Pye tavern, to inquire what became of him.</p>
+
+<p>It was by this time one in the morning, and yet the
+poor gentleman was there. The people of the house were
+civil and obliging, but there was a dreadful set of fellows
+that used their house, and who, in the middle of all this
+horror, met there every night, and behaved with revelling
+and roaring extravagances, so that the master and mistress
+of the house were terrified at them. They sat in a
+room next the street, and as often as the dead-cart came
+along, they would open the windows and make impudent
+mocks and jeers at the sad lamentations of the people,
+especially if they heard the poor people call upon God
+to have mercy upon them.</p>
+
+<p>They were at this vile work when I came to the house,
+ridiculing the unfortunate man, and his sorrow for his
+wife and children, taunting him with want of courage to
+leap into the pit and go to Heaven with them, and adding
+profane and blasphemous expressions.</p>
+
+<p>I gently reproved them, being not unknown to two of
+them. But I cannot call to mind the abominable raillery
+which they returned to me, making a jest of my calling
+the plague the Hand of God. They continued this
+wretched course three or four days; but they were, every
+one of them, carried into the great pit before it was quite
+filled up.</p>
+
+<p>In my walks I had daily many dismal scenes before my
+eyes, as of persons falling dead in the streets, terrible
+shrieks and screechings of women, and the like. Passing
+through Tokenhouse Yard, in Lothbury, of a sudden a
+casement violently opened just over my head, and a
+woman gave three frightful screeches, and then cried:
+"Oh Death! Death! Death!" in a most inimitable tone,
+which struck me with horror and a chillness in my very
+blood. There was nobody to be seen in the whole street,
+neither did any other window open; for people had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span>
+curiosity now, nor could anybody help another. I went
+on into Bell Alley.</p>
+
+<p>Just in Bell Alley, at the right hand of the passage,
+there was a more terrible cry than that, and I could hear
+women and children run screaming about the rooms distracted.
+A garret window opened, and somebody from
+a window on the other side of the alley called and asked,
+"What is the matter?" upon which, from the first window
+it was answered: "O Lord, my old master has
+hanged himself!" The other asked again: "Is he quite
+dead?" And the first answered, "Ay, ay, quite dead&mdash;quite
+dead and cold."</p>
+
+<p>It is scarce credible what dreadful things happened
+every day, people in the rage of the distemper, or in the
+torment of their swellings, which was indeed intolerable,
+oftentimes laying violent hands on themselves, throwing
+themselves out at their windows, etc.; mothers murdering
+their own children in their lunacy; some dying of mere
+fright, without any infection; others frightened into despair,
+idiocy, or madness.</p>
+
+<p>There were a great many robberies and wicked practices
+committed even in this dreadful time. The power of
+avarice was so strong in some that they would run any
+hazard to steal and to plunder; and in houses where all
+the inhabitants had died and been carried out, they
+would break in without regard to the danger of infection,
+and take even the bedclothes.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Universal Desolation</i></h4>
+
+<p>For about a month together, I believe there did not die
+less than 1,500 or 1,700 a day, one day with another; and
+in the beginning of September good people began to think
+that God was resolved to make a full end of the people in
+this miserable city. Whole families, and, indeed, whole
+streets of families were swept away together, and the
+infection was so increased that at length they shut up no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span>
+houses at all. People gave themselves up to their fears,
+and thought that nothing was to be hoped for but an
+universal desolation. It was even in the height of this
+despair that it pleased God to stay His hand, and to
+slacken the fury of the contagion.</p>
+
+<p>When the people despaired of life and abandoned themselves,
+it had a very strange effect for three or four
+weeks; it made them bold and venturous; they were no
+more shy of one another, nor restrained within doors, but
+went anywhere and everywhere, and ran desperately into
+any company. It brought them to crowd into the
+churches; looking on themselves as all so many dead
+corpses, they behaved as if their lives were of no consequence,
+compared to the work which they came about
+there.</p>
+
+<p>The conduct of the lord mayor and magistrates was all
+the time admirable, so that bread was always to be had in
+plenty, and cheap as usual; provisions were never wanting
+in the markets; the streets were kept free from all manner
+of frightful objects&mdash;dead bodies, or anything unpleasant;
+and for a time fires were kept burning in the streets to
+cleanse the air of infection.</p>
+
+<p>Many remedies were tried; but it is my opinion, and I
+must leave it as a prescription, that the best physic against
+the plague is to run away from it. I know people encourage
+themselves by saying, "God is able to keep us in
+the midst of danger," and this kept thousands in the town,
+whose carcasses went into the great pits by cart-loads.
+Yet of the pious ladies who went about distributing alms
+to the poor, and visiting infected families, though I will
+not undertake to say that none of those charitable people
+were suffered to fall under the calamity, yet I may say
+this, that I never knew any of them to fall under it.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the precipitant disposition of our people, that
+no sooner had they observed that the distemper was not
+so catching as formerly, and that if it was catched it was
+not so mortal, and that abundance of people who really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span>
+fell sick recovered again daily, than they made no more
+of the plague than of an ordinary fever, nor indeed so
+much. They went into the very chambers where others
+lay sick. This rash conduct cost a great many their
+lives, who had been preserved all through the heat of the
+infection, and the bills of mortality increased again four
+hundred in the first week of November.</p>
+
+<p>But it pleased God, by the continuing of wintry weather,
+so to restore the health of the city that by February following
+we reckoned the distemper quite ceased. The
+time was not far off when the city was to be purged with
+fire, for within nine months more I saw it all lying in
+ashes.</p>
+
+<p>I shall conclude the account of this calamitous year
+with a stanza of my own:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span></p>
+<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A dreadful plague in London was<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the year sixty-five,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which swept an hundred thousand souls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Away; yet I alive!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2 id="ch_99"><a name="DEMOSTHENES" id="DEMOSTHENES">DEMOSTHENES</a></h2>
+
+<h3>The Philippics</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Demosthenes, by universal consensus of opinion the greatest orator
+the world has known, was born at Athens 385 <span class="smcap smaller">B.C.</span> and died
+322 <span class="smcap smaller">B.C.</span> His birth took place just nineteen years after the conclusion
+of the Peloponnesian War. Losing his father when he was
+yet a child, his wealth was frittered away by three faithless guardians,
+whom he prosecuted when he came of age. This dispute,
+and some other struggles, led him into public life, and by indomitable
+perseverance he overcame the difficulty constituted by
+certain physical disqualifications. Identifying himself for life
+entirely with the interests of Athens, he became the foremost
+administrator in the state, as well as its most eloquent orator.
+His stainless character, his matchless powers of advocacy, his
+fervent patriotism, and his fine diplomacy, render him altogether
+one of the noblest figures of antiquity. His fame rests mainly
+on "The Philippics"; those magnificent orations delivered during
+a series of several years against the aggressions of Philip of
+Macedon; though the three "Olynthiacs," and the oration "De
+Coronâ," and several other speeches are monumental of the
+genius of Demosthenes, more especially the "De Coronâ." He
+continued to resist the Macedonian domination during the career
+of Alexander the Great, and was exiled, dying, it is supposed,
+by poison administered by himself, at Calauria. (Cf. also p. <a href="#Page_273">273</a>
+of this volume.) This epitome has been prepared from the
+original Greek.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;"Men of Athens, Arouse Yourselves!"</i></h4>
+
+<p>The subject under discussion on this occasion, men of
+Athens, is not new, and there would be no need to speak
+further on it if other orators deliberated wisely. First,
+I advise you not to regard the present aspect of affairs,
+miserable though it truly is, as entirely hopeless. For
+the primary cause of the failure is your own mismanagement.
+If any consider it difficult to overcome Philip
+because of the power that he has attained, and because
+of our disastrous loss of many fortresses, they should
+remember how much he has gained by achieving alliances.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span>
+If, now, you will emulate his policy, if every citizen
+will devote himself assiduously to the service of his
+country, you will assuredly recover all that has been lost,
+and punish Philip. For he has his enemies, even among
+his pretended friends. All dread him because your inertia
+has prevented you from providing any refuge for them.
+Hence the height of arrogance which he now displays
+and the constantly expanding area of his conquests.</p>
+
+<p>When, men of Athens, will you realise that your attitude
+is the cause of this situation? For you idle about,
+indulging in gossip over circumstances, instead of grappling
+with the actualities. Were this antagonist to pass
+away, another enemy like him would speedily be produced
+by your policy, for Philip is what he is not so
+much through his own prowess as through your own
+indifference.</p>
+
+<p>As to the plan of action to be initiated, I say that we
+must inaugurate it by providing fifty triremes, also the
+cavalry and transports and boats needed for the fleet.
+Thus we should be fully prepared to cope with the sudden
+excursions of Philip to Thermopylæ or any other
+point. Besides this naval force, you should equip an
+army of 2,000 foot soldiers, of whom 500 should be
+Athenians, the remainder mercenaries, together with 250
+cavalry, including 50 Athenians. Lastly, we should have
+an auxiliary naval contingent of ten swift galleys.</p>
+
+<p>We are now conducting affairs farcically. For we act
+neither as if we were at peace, nor as if we had entered
+on a war. You enlist your soldiers not for warfare, but
+for religious pageants, and for parades and processions
+in the market-place. We must consolidate our resources,
+embody permanent forces, not temporary levies hastily
+enlisted, and we must secure winter quarters for our
+troops in those islands which possess harbours and granaries
+for the corn.</p>
+
+<p>No longer, men of Athens, must you continue the mere
+discussion of measures without ever executing any of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span>
+your projects. Remember that Philip sustains his
+power by drawing on the resources of your own allies.</p>
+
+<p>But by adopting my plan you will at one and the same
+time deprive him of his chief sources of supply, and
+place yourselves out of the reach of danger. The policy
+he has hitherto pursued will be effectually thwarted. No
+longer will he be able to capture your citizens, as he did
+by attacking Lemnos and Imbros, or to seize your Paralus,
+as he did on his descent at Marathon.</p>
+
+<p>But, men of Athens, you spend far larger sums of
+money on the splendid Panathenaic and Dionysian festivals
+than on your naval and military armaments. Moreover,
+those festivals are always punctually celebrated,
+while your preparations for war are always behindhand.
+Then, when a critical juncture arrives, we find our forces
+are totally inadequate to the emergency.</p>
+
+<p>Having larger resources than any other state, you,
+Athenians, have never adequately availed yourselves of
+them. You never anticipate the movements of Philip,
+but simply drift after him, sending forces to Thermopylæ
+if you hear he is there, or to any other quarter
+where he may happen to be. Such policy might formerly
+be excused, but now it is as disgraceful as it is intolerable.
+Are we to wait for Philip's aggressiveness to
+cease? It never will do so unless we resist it. Shall we
+not assume the offensive and descend on his coast with
+some of our forces?</p>
+
+<p>Nothing will result from mere oratory and from
+mutual recrimination among ourselves. My own conviction
+is that Philip is encouraged by our inertia, and
+that he is carried away by his own successes, but that he
+has no fixed plan of action that can be guessed by foolish
+chatterers. Men of Athens, let us for the future abandon
+such an attitude, and let us bear in mind that we must
+depend not on the help of others, but on ourselves alone.
+Unless we go to attack Philip where he is, Philip will
+come to attack us where we are.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Beware the Guile of Philip</i></h4>
+
+<p>Nothing, men of Athens, is done as a sequel to the
+speeches which are delivered and approved concerning
+the outrageous proceedings of Philip. You are earnest
+in discussion; he is earnest in action. If we are to be
+complacently content because we employ the better arguments,
+well and good; but if we are successfully to resist
+this formidable and increasing power, we must be prepared
+to entertain advice that is salutary, however unpalatable,
+rather than counsel which is easy and pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>If you give me any credit for clear perception, I beg
+you to attend to what I plead. After subduing Thermopylæ
+and the Phocians, Philip quickly apprehended
+that you could not be induced by any selfish considerations
+to abandon other Greek states to him. The Thebans,
+Messenians, and Argives he lured by bribes. But
+he knew how, in the past, your predecessors scorned the
+overtures of his ancestor, Alexander of Macedon, sent
+by Mardonius the Persian to induce the Athenians to
+betray the rest of the Greeks. It was not so with the
+Argives and the Thebans, and thus Philip calculates that
+their successors will care nothing for the interests of the
+Greeks generally. So he favours them, but not you.</p>
+
+<p>Everything demonstrates Philip's animosity against
+Athens. He is instinctively aware that you are conscious
+of his plots against you, and ascribes to you a feeling of
+hatred against him. Eager to be beforehand with us, he
+continues to negotiate with Thebans and Peloponnesians,
+assuming that they may be beguiled with ease.</p>
+
+<p>I call to mind how I addressed the Messenians and the
+Argives, reminding them how Philip had dishonourably
+given certain of their territories to the Olynthians.
+Would the Olynthians then have listened to any disparagements
+of Philip? Assuredly not. Yet they were
+soon shamefully betrayed and cheated by him. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span>
+unsafe for commonwealths to place confidence in despots.
+In like manner were the Thessalians deceived
+when he had ejected their tyrants and had restored to
+them Nicasa and Magnesia, for he instituted the new
+tyranny of the Decemvirate. Philip is equally ready
+with gifts and promises on the one hand, and with fraud
+and deceit on the other.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jupiter," said I to those auditors, "the only infallible
+defence of democracies against despots is the
+absolute refusal of all confidence in them. Always to
+mistrust them is the only safeguard. What is it that you
+seek to secure? Liberty? Then do you not perceive
+that the very titles worn by Philip prove him to be adverse
+to this? For every king and tyrant is an enemy to
+freedom and an opponent to laws."</p>
+
+<p>But though my speeches and those of other emissaries
+were received with vociferous applause, all the same
+those who thus manifested profound approbation will
+never be able to resist the blandishments and overtures
+of Philip. It may well be so with those other Greeks.
+But you, O Athenians, surely should understand your
+own interests better. For otherwise irreparable disaster
+must ensue.</p>
+
+<p>In justice, men of Athens, you should summon the
+men who communicated to you the promises which induced
+you to consent to peace. Their statements misled
+us; otherwise, neither would I have gone as ambassador,
+nor would you have ceased hostilities. Also, you should
+call those who, after my return from my second embassy,
+contradicted my report. I then protested against the
+abandonment of Thermopylæ and of the Phocians.</p>
+
+<p>They ridiculed me as a water-drinker, and they persuaded
+you that Philip would cede to you Oropus and
+Eubœa in exchange for Amphipolis, and also that he
+would humble the Thebans and at his own charges cut
+through the Chersonese. Your anger will be excited in
+due time when you realise what you have hitherto disregarded,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span>
+namely, that these projects on the part of
+Philip are devised against Athens.</p>
+
+<p>Though all know it only too well, let me remind you
+who it was, even Æschines himself, who induced you by
+his persuasion to abandon Thermopylæ and Phocis. By
+possessing control over these, Philip now commands also
+the road to Attica and Peloponnesus.</p>
+
+<p>Hence the present situation is this, that you must now
+consider, not distant affairs, but the means of defending
+your homes and of conducting a war in Attica, that war
+having become inevitable through those events, grievous
+though it will be to every citizen when it begins. May
+the gods grant that the worst fears be not fully confirmed!</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Athens Must Head the War</i></h4>
+
+<p>Various circumstances, men of Athens, have reduced
+our affairs to the worst possible state, this lamentable
+crisis being due mainly to the specious orators who seek
+rather to please you than wisely to guide you. Flattery
+has generated perilous complacency, and now the position
+is one of extreme danger. I am willing either to
+preserve silence, or to speak frankly, according to your
+disposition. Yet all may be repaired if you awaken to
+your duty, for Philip has not conquered you; you have
+simply made no real effort against him.</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, while Philip is actually seizing cities
+and appropriating various portions of our territory, some
+among us affirm that there is really no war. Thus, caution
+is needed in speech, for those who suggest defensive
+measures may afterwards be indicted for causing
+hostilities. Now, let those who maintain that we are at
+peace propose a resolution for suitable plans. But if you
+are invaded by an armed aggressor, who pretends to be
+at peace with you, what can you do but initiate measures
+of defence?</p>
+
+<p>Both sides may profess to be at peace, and I do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span>
+demur; but it is madness to style that a condition of
+peace which allows Philip to subjugate all other states
+and then to assail you last of all. His method of proceeding
+is to prepare to attack you, while securing immunity
+from the danger of being attacked by you.</p>
+
+<p>If we wait for him to declare war, we wait in vain.
+For he will treat us as he did the Olynthians and the
+Phocians. Professing to be their ally, he appropriated
+territories belonging to them. Do you imagine he would
+declare war against you before commencing operations
+of encroachment? Never, so long as he knows that you
+are willing to be deceived.</p>
+
+<p>By a series of operations he has been infringing the
+peace: by his attempt to seize Megara, by his intervention
+in Eubœa, by his excursion into Thrace. I reckon
+that the virtual beginnings of hostilities must be dated
+from the day that he completed the subjugation of the
+Thracians. From your other orators I differ in deeming
+any discussion irrelevant respecting the Chersonese or
+Byzantium. Aid these, indeed; but let the safety of all
+Greece alike be the subject of your deliberations.</p>
+
+<p>What I would emphasise is that to Philip have been
+conceded liberties of encroachment and aggression, by
+you first of all, such as in former days were always contested
+by war. He has attacked and enslaved city after
+city of the Greeks. You Athenians were for seventy-three
+years the supreme leaders in Hellas, as were the
+Spartans for twenty-nine years. Then after the battle
+of Leuctra the Thebans acquired paramount influence.
+But neither you nor these others ever arrogated the right
+to act according to your pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>If you appeared to act superciliously towards any
+state, all the other states sided with that one which was
+aggrieved. Yet all the errors committed by our predecessors
+and by those of the Spartans during the whole of
+that century were trivial compared with the wrongs perpetrated
+by Philip during these thirteen years. Cruel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span>
+has been his destruction of Olynthus, of Methone, of
+Apollonia, and of thirty-two cities on the borders of
+Thrace, and also the extermination of the Phocians.
+And now he domineers ruthlessly over Thessaly and
+Eubœa. Yet all we Greeks of various nationalities are
+in so abjectly miserable a condition that, instead of arranging
+embassies and declaring our indignation, we
+entrench ourselves in isolation in our several cities.</p>
+
+<p>It must be reflected that when wrongs were inflicted
+by other states, by us or the Spartans, these faults were
+at any rate committed by genuine sons of Greece. How
+much more hateful is the offence when perpetrated
+against a household by a slave or an alien than by a son
+or other member of the family! But Philip is not only
+no son of Hellas; he is not even a reputable barbarian,
+but only a vile fellow of Macedon, a country from which
+formerly even a respectable slave could not be purchased!</p>
+
+<p>What is lacking to his unspeakable arrogance? Does
+he not assemble the Pythian games, command Thermopylæ,
+garrison the passes, secure prior access to the
+oracle at Delphi, and dictate the form of government for
+Thessaly? All this the Greeks look upon with toleration;
+they seem to regard it as they would some tempest,
+each hoping it will fall on someone else. We are all
+passive and despondent, mutually distrusting each other
+instead of the common foe.</p>
+
+<p>How different the noble spirit of former days! How
+different that old passion for liberty which is now superseded
+by the love of servitude! Then corruption was so
+deeply detested that there was no pardon for the guilt
+of bribery. Now venality is laughed at and bribery goes
+unpunished. In ships, men, equipment, and revenues our
+resources are larger than ever before, but corruption
+neutralises them all.</p>
+
+<p>But preparations for war are not sufficient. You must
+not only be ready to encounter the foes without, but must
+punish those who among you are the creatures of Philip,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span>
+like those who caused the ruin of Olynthus by betraying
+the cavalry and by securing the banishment of Apollonides.
+Similar treachery brought about the downfall of
+other cities. The same fate may befall us. What, then,
+must be done?</p>
+
+<p>When we have done all that is needful for our own
+defence, let us next send our emissaries to all the other
+states with the intelligence that we are ready. If you
+imagine that others will save Greece while you avoid the
+conflict, you cherish a fatal delusion. This enterprise
+devolves on you; you inherit it from your ancestors.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Exterminate the Traitors!</i></h4>
+
+<p>Men of Athens, your chief misfortune is that, though
+for the passing moment you heed important news, you
+speedily scatter and forget what you have just heard.
+You have become fully acquainted with the doings of
+Philip, and you well know how great is his ambition; and
+yet, so profound has been our indifference that we have
+earned the contempt of several other states, which now
+prefer to undertake their defence separately rather than
+in alliance with us.</p>
+
+<p>You must become more deeply convinced than you
+have been hitherto that our destruction is the supreme
+anxiety of Philip. The special object of his hatred is
+your democratic constitution. Our mode of procedure
+is a mockery, for we are always behind in the execution
+of our schemes. You must form a permanent army with
+a regular organisation, and with funds sufficient for its
+maintenance.</p>
+
+<p>Most of all, money is needed to meet coming requirements.
+There was a time when money was forthcoming
+and everything necessary was performed. Why do we
+now decline to do our duty? In a time of peril to the commonwealth
+the affluent should freely contribute of their
+possessions for the welfare of the country; but each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span>
+class has its obligations to the state and should observe
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Many and inveterate are the causes of our present
+difficulties. You, O Athenians, have surrendered the
+august position which your predecessors bequeathed you,
+and have indolently permitted a stranger to usurp it.
+The present crisis involves peril for all the states, but
+to Athens most of all; and that not so much on account
+of Philip's schemes of conquest, as of your neglect.</p>
+
+<p>How is it, Athenians, that none affirm concerning
+Philip that he is guilty of aggression, even while he is
+seizing cities, while those who advise resistance are indicated
+as inciting to war? The reason is that those who
+have been corrupted believe that if you do resist him you
+will overcome him, and they can no longer secure the
+reward of treachery.</p>
+
+<p>Remember what you have at stake. Should you fall
+under the dominion of Philip, he will show you no pity,
+for his desire is not merely to subdue Athens, but to
+destroy it. The struggle will be to the death; therefore,
+those who would sell the country to him you must exterminate
+without scruple. This is the only city where
+such treacherous citizens can dare to speak in his favour.
+Only here may a man safely accept a bribe and openly
+address the people.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_109"><a name="RALPH_WALDO_EMERSON" id="RALPH_WALDO_EMERSON">RALPH WALDO EMERSON</a></h2>
+
+<h3>English Traits</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>In 1847 Emerson (see Vol. XIII, p. 339) made his second visit
+to England, this time on a lecturing tour. An outcome of the
+visit was "English Traits," which was first published in 1856.
+"I leave England," he wrote on his return home, "with an increased
+respect for the Englishman. His stuff or substance
+seems to be the best in the world." "English Traits" deals
+with a series of definite subjects which do not admit of much
+philosophic digression, and there is, therefore, an absence of
+the flashes of spiritual and poetic insight which gave Emerson
+his charm.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;The Anchorage of Britain</i></h4>
+
+<p>I did not go very willingly to England. I am not a
+good traveller, nor have I found that long journeys yield
+a fair share of reasonable hours. I find a sea-life an
+acquired taste, like that for tomatoes and olives. The
+sea is masculine, the type of active strength. Look what
+egg-shells are drifting all over it, each one filled with men
+in ecstasies of terror alternating with cockney conceit, as
+it is rough or smooth. But to the geologist the sea is the
+only firmament; it is the land that is in perpetual flux and
+change. It has been said that the King of England would
+consult his dignity by giving audience to foreign ambassadors
+in the cabin of a man-of-war; and I think the
+white path of an Atlantic ship is the right avenue to the
+palace-front of this seafaring people.</p>
+
+<p>England is a garden. Under an ash-coloured sky, the
+fields have been combed and rolled till they appear to have
+been finished with a pencil instead of a plough. Rivers,
+hills, valleys, the sea itself, feel the hand of a master.
+The problem of the traveller landing in Liverpool is, Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span>
+England is England? What are the elements of that
+power which the English hold over other nations? If
+there be one test of national genius universally accepted,
+it is success; and if there be one successful country in the
+universe that country is England.</p>
+
+<p>The culture of the day, the thoughts and aims of men,
+are English thoughts and aims. A nation considerable
+for a thousand years has in the last centuries obtained
+the ascendant, and stamped the knowledge, activity, and
+power of mankind with its impress.</p>
+
+<p>The territory has a singular perfection. Neither hot
+nor cold, there is no hour in the whole year when one
+cannot work. The only drawback to industrial conveniency
+is the darkness of the sky. The night and day
+are too nearly of a colour.</p>
+
+<p>England resembles a ship in shape, and, if it were one,
+its best admiral could not have anchored it in a more
+judicious or effective position. The shop-keeping nation,
+to use a shop word, has a good stand. It is anchored at
+the side of Europe, and right in the heart of the modern
+world.</p>
+
+<p>In variety of surface Britain is a miniature of Europe,
+as if Nature had given it an artificial completeness. It is
+as if Nature had held counsel with herself and said: "My
+Romans are gone. To build my new empire I will choose
+a rude race, all masculine, with brutish strength. Sharp
+and temperate northern breezes shall blow to keep them
+alive and alert. The sea shall disjoin the people from
+others and knit them by a fierce nationality. Long time
+will I keep them on their feet, by poverty, border-wars,
+seafaring, sea-risks, and stimulus of gain." A singular
+coincidence to this geographic centrality is the spiritual
+centrality which Emanuel Swedenborg ascribes to the
+people: "The English nation are in the centre of all
+Christians, because they have an interior intellectual light.
+This light they derive from the liberty of speaking and
+writing, and thereby of thinking."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Racial Characteristics</i></h4>
+
+<p>The British Empire is reckoned to contain a fifth of
+the population of the globe; but what makes the British
+census proper important is the quality of the units that
+compose it. They are free, forcible men in a country
+where life has reached the greatest value. They have
+sound bodies and supreme endurance in war and in
+labour. They have assimilating force, since they are
+imitated by their foreign subjects; and they are still aggressive
+and propagandist, enlarging the dominion of
+their arts and liberty.</p>
+
+<p>The English composite character betrays a mixed
+origin. Everything English is a fusion of distant and
+antagonistic elements. The language is mixed; the currents
+of thought are counter; contemplation and practical
+skill; active intellect and dead conservatism; world-wide
+enterprise and devoted use and wont; a country of extremes&mdash;nothing
+in it can be praised without damning
+exceptions, and nothing denounced without salvos of
+cordial praise.</p>
+
+<p>The sources from which tradition derives its stock are
+mainly three: First, the Celtic&mdash;a people of hidden and
+precarious genius; second, the Germans, a people about
+whom, in the old empire, the rumour ran there was never
+any that meddled with them that repented it not; and,
+third, the Norsemen and the children out of France.
+Twenty thousand thieves landed at Hastings. These
+founders of the House of Lords were greedy and
+ferocious dragoons, sons of greedy and ferocious pirates.
+Such, however, is the illusion of antiquity and wealth that
+decent and dignified men now existing actually boast their
+descent from these filthy thieves.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as this land, thus geographically posted, got a
+hardy people into it, they could not help becoming the
+sailors and factors of the world. The English, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span>
+present day, have great vigour of body. They are round,
+ruddy, and handsome, with a tendency to stout and
+powerful frames. It is the fault of their forms that they
+grow stocky, but in all ages they are a handsome race,
+and please by an expression blending good nature, valour,
+refinement, and an uncorrupt youth in the face of manhood.</p>
+
+<p>The English are rather manly than warlike. They delight
+in the antagonism which combines in one person the
+extremes of courage and tenderness. Nelson, dying at
+Trafalgar, says, "Kiss me, Hardy," and turns to sleep.
+Even for their highwaymen this virtue is claimed, and
+Robin Hood is the gentlest thief. But they know where
+their war-dogs lie, and Cromwell, Blake, Marlborough,
+Nelson, and Wellington are not to be trifled with.</p>
+
+<p>They have vigorous health and last well into middle
+and old age. They have more constitutional energy than
+any other people. They box, run, shoot, ride, row, and
+sail from Pole to Pole. They are the most voracious
+people of prey that have ever existed, and they have written
+the game-books of all countries.</p>
+
+<p>These Saxons are the hands of mankind&mdash;the world's
+wealth-makers. They have that temperament which resists
+every means employed to make its possessor subservient
+to others. The English game is main force to main
+force, the planting of foot to foot, fair play and an open
+field&mdash;a rough tug without trick or dodging till one or
+both comes to pieces. They hate craft and subtlety; and
+when they have pounded each other to a poultice they will
+shake hands and be friends for the remainder of their
+lives.</p>
+
+<p>Their realistic logic of coupling means to ends has
+given them the leadership of the modern world. Montesquieu
+said: "No people have true commonsense but
+those who are born in England." This commonsense is
+a perception of laws that cannot be stated, or that are
+learned only by practice, with allowance for friction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span>
+The bias of the nation is a passion for utility. They are
+heavy at the fine arts, but adroit at the coarse. The
+Frenchman invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the
+shirt. They think him the best-dressed man whose dress
+is so fit for his use that you cannot notice or remember
+to describe it.</p>
+
+<p>In war the Englishman looks to his means; but, conscious
+that no better race of men exists, they rely most
+on the simplest means. They fundamentally believe that
+the best stratagem in naval war is to bring your ship
+alongside of the enemy's ship, and bring all your guns to
+bear on him until you or he go to the bottom. This is the
+old fashion which never goes out of fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Tacitus said of the Germans: "Powerful only in sudden
+efforts, they are impatient of toil and labour." This
+highly destined race, if it had not somewhere added the
+chamber of patience to its brain, would not have built
+London. I know not from which of the tribes and temperaments
+that went to the composition of the people this
+tenacity was supplied, but they clinch every nail they
+drive. "To show capacity," a Frenchman described as
+the end of speech in a debate. "No," said an Englishman,
+"but to advance the business."</p>
+
+<p>The nation sits in the immense city they have builded&mdash;a
+London extended into every man's mind. The
+modern world is theirs. They have made and make it
+day by day. In every path of practical ability they have
+gone even with the best. There is no department of
+literature, of science, or of useful art in which they have
+not produced a first-rate book. It is England whose
+opinion is waited for. English trade exists to make well
+everything which is ill-made elsewhere. Steam is almost
+an Englishman.</p>
+
+<p>One secret of the power of this people is their mutual
+good understanding. Not only good minds are born
+among them, but all the people have good minds. An
+electric touch by any of their national ideas melts them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span>
+into one family. The chancellor carries England on his
+mace, the midshipman at the point of his dirk, the smith
+on his hammer, the cook in the bowl of his spoon, and
+the sailor times his oars to "God save the King!"</p>
+
+<p>I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands
+firmest in his shoes. The one thing the English value is
+pluck. The word is not beautiful, but on the quality
+they signify by it the nation is unanimous. The cabmen
+have it, the merchants have it, the bishops have it, the
+women have it, the journals have it. They require you
+to dare to be of your own opinion, and they hate the
+practical cowards who cannot answer directly Yes or No.</p>
+
+<p>Their vigour appears in the incuriosity and stony neglect
+each of the other. Each man walks, eats, drinks,
+shaves, dresses, gesticulates, and in every manner acts and
+suffers, without reference to the bystanders&mdash;he is really
+occupied with his own affairs, and does not think of them.
+In short, every one of these islanders is an island himself,
+safe, tranquil, incommunicable.</p>
+
+<p>Born in a harsh and wet climate, which keeps him indoors
+whenever he is at rest, and, being of an affectionate
+and loyal temper, the Englishman dearly loves his home.
+If he is rich he builds a hall, and brings to it trophies of
+the adventures and exploits of the family, till it becomes
+a museum of heirlooms. England produces, under
+favourable conditions of ease and culture, the finest
+women in the world. Nothing can be more delicate without
+being fantastical, than the courtship and mutual carriage
+of the sexes. Domesticity is the taproot which
+enables the nation to branch wide and high. In an aristocratical
+country like England, not the trial by jury, but
+the dinner is the capital institution. It is the mode of
+doing honour to a stranger to ask him to eat.</p>
+
+<p>The practical power of the English rests on their sincerity.
+Alfred, whom the affection of the nation makes
+the type of their race, is called by a writer at the Norman
+Conquest, the "truth-speaker." The phrase of the lowest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span>
+of the people is "honour-bright," and their praise,
+"his word is as good as his bond." They confide in each
+other&mdash;English believes in English. Madame de Staël
+says that the English irritated Napoleon mainly because
+they have found out how to unite success with honesty.
+The ruling passion of an Englishman is a terror of
+humbug.</p>
+
+<p>The English race are reputed morose. They have enjoyed
+a reputation for taciturnity for six or seven hundred
+years. Cold, repressive manners prevail, and there is a
+wooden deadness in certain Englishmen which surpasses
+all other countrymen. In the power of saying rude truth
+no men rival them. They are proud and private, and even
+if disposed to recreation will avoid an open garden. They
+are full of coarse strength, butcher's meat, and sound
+sleep. They are good lovers, good haters, slow but obstinate
+admirers, and very much steeped in their temperament,
+like men hardly awaked from deep sleep which
+they enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>The English have a mild aspect, and ringing, cheerful
+voice. Of absolute stoutness of spirit, no nation has
+more or better examples. They are good at storming redoubts,
+at boarding frigates, at dying in the last ditch, or
+any desperate service which has daylight and honour in
+it. They stoutly carry into every nook and corner of
+the earth their turbulent sense of inquiry, leaving no lie
+uncontradicted, no pretension unexamined.</p>
+
+<p>They are very conscious of their advantageous position
+in history. I suppose that all men of English blood in
+America, Europe, or Asia, have a secret feeling of joy
+that they are not Frenchmen. They only are not foreigners.
+In short, I am afraid that the English nature is so
+rank and aggressive as to be a little incompatible with any
+other. The world is not wide enough for two. More
+intellectual than other races, when they live with other
+races they do not take their language, but bestow their
+own. They subsidise other nations, and are not subsidised.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span>
+They proselytise and are not proselytised. They
+assimilate other nations to themselves and are not assimilated.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Wealth, Aristocracy, and Religion</i></h4>
+
+<p>There is no country in which so absolute a homage is
+paid to wealth. There is a mixture of religion in it. The
+Englishman esteems wealth a final certificate. He believes
+that every man has himself to thank if he does not
+mend his condition. To pay their debts is their national
+point of honour. The British armies are solvent, and pay
+for what they take. The British empire is solvent. It is
+their maxim that the weight of taxes must be calculated
+not by what is taken but by what is left. They say without
+shame: "I cannot afford it." Such is their enterprise,
+that there is enough wealth in England to support the
+entire population in idleness one year. The proudest result
+of this creation of wealth is that great and refined
+forces are put at the disposal of the private citizen, and
+in the social world the Englishman to-day has the best
+lot. I much prefer the condition of an English gentleman
+of the better class to that of any potentate in
+Europe.</p>
+
+<p>The feudal character of the English state, now that it
+is getting obsolete, glares a little in contrast with democratic
+tendencies. But the frame of society is aristocratic.
+Every man who becomes rich buys land, and does what
+he can to fortify the nobility, into which he hopes to rise.
+The taste of the people is conservative. They are proud
+of the castles, language, and symbols of chivalry. English
+history is aristocracy with the doors open. Who has
+courage and faculty, let him come in.</p>
+
+<p>All nobility in its beginnings was somebody's natural
+superiority. The things these English have done were
+not done without peril of life, nor without wisdom of
+conduct, and the first hands, it may be presumed, were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span>
+often challenged to show their right to their honours, or
+yield them to better men.</p>
+
+<p>Comity, social talent, and fine manners no doubt have
+had their part also. The lawyer, the farmer, the silk
+mercer lies <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">perdu</i> under the coronet, and winks to the
+antiquary to say nothing. They were nobody's sons who
+did some piece of work at a nice moment.</p>
+
+<p>The English names are excellent&mdash;they spread an atmosphere
+of legendary melody over the land. Older than
+epics and histories, which clothe a nation, this undershirt
+sits close to the body. What stores of primitive and
+savage observation it infolds! Cambridge is the bridge
+of the Cam; Sheffield the field of the river Sheaf; Leicester
+the camp of Lear; Waltham is Strong Town; Radcliffe
+is Red Cliff, and so on&mdash;a sincerity and use in
+naming very striking to an American, whose country is
+whitewashed all over with unmeaning names, the cast-off
+clothes of the country from which the emigrants came,
+or named at a pinch from a psalm tune.</p>
+
+<p>In seeing old castles and cathedrals I sometimes say:
+"This was built by another and a better race than any
+that now look on it." Their architecture still glows with
+faith in immortality. Good churches are not built by bad
+men; at least, there must be probity and enthusiasm somewhere
+in society.</p>
+
+<p>England felt the full heat of the Christianity which
+fermented Europe, and, like the chemistry of fire, drew
+a firm line between barbarism and culture. When the
+Saxon instinct had secured a service in the vernacular
+tongue the Church was the tutor and university of the
+people.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Anglican Church is marked by the grace and
+good sense of its forms; by the manly grace of its clergy.
+The gospel it preaches is "By taste are ye saved." The
+religion of England is part of good breeding. When you
+see on the Continent the well-dressed Englishman come
+into his ambassador's chapel and put his face for silent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span>
+prayer into his well-brushed hat, you cannot help feeling
+how much national pride prays with him, and the religion
+of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the Church is much to be pitied. If a
+bishop meets an intelligent gentleman and reads fatal interrogation
+in his eyes, he has no resource but to take
+wine with him.</p>
+
+<p>But the religion of England&mdash;is it the Established
+Church? No. Is it the sects? No. Where dwells the
+religion? Tell me first where dwells electricity, or motion,
+or thought? They do not dwell or stay at all. Electricity
+is passing, glancing, gesticular; it is a traveller, a
+newness, a secret. Yet, if religion be the doing of all
+good, and for its sake the suffering of all evil, that divine
+secret has existed in England from the days of Alfred to
+the days of Florence Nightingale, and in thousands who
+have no fame.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3 id="ch_118"><a name="Representative_Men" id="Representative_Men">Representative Men</a></h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Some of the lectures delivered by Emerson during his lecturing
+tour in England were published in 1850 under the title
+of "Representative Men," and the main trend of their thought
+and opinion is here followed in Emerson's own words. It will
+be noted that the use of the term "sceptic," as applied to Montaigne,
+is not the ordinary use of the word, but signifies a person
+spontaneously given to free inquiry rather than aggressive
+disbelief. The estimate of Napoleon is original. In "Representative
+Men" Emerson is much more consecutive in his
+thought than is customary with him. His pearls are as plentiful
+here as elsewhere, but they are not scattered disconnectedly.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>Plato</i></h4>
+
+<p>Among secular books, Plato only is entitled to Omar's
+fanatical compliment to the Koran: "Burn all books,
+for their value is in this book." Out of Plato come all
+things that are still written and debated among men of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span>
+thought. Plato is philosophy, and philosophy Plato. No
+wife, no children had he, but the thinkers of all civilised
+nations are his posterity, and are tinged with his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Great geniuses have the shortest biographies. They
+lived in their writings, and so their house and street life
+is commonplace. Their cousins can tell you nothing about
+them. Plato, especially, has no external biography.</p>
+
+<p>Plato stands between the truth and every man's mind,
+and has almost impressed language and the primary
+forms of thought with his name and seal.</p>
+
+<p>The first period of a nation, as of an individual, is the
+period of unconscious strength. Children cry, scream,
+and stamp with fury, unable to express their desires. As
+soon as they can speak and tell their wants they become
+gentle. With nations he is as a god to them who can
+rightly divide and define. This defining is philosophy.
+Philosophy is the account which the human mind gives to
+itself of the constitution of the world.</p>
+
+<p>Two cardinal facts lie ever at the base of thought:
+Unity and Variety&mdash;oneness and otherness.</p>
+
+<p>To this partiality the history of nations corresponds.
+The country of unity, faithful to the idea of a deaf, unimplorable,
+immense fate, is Asia; on the other side, the
+genius of Europe is active and creative. If the East loves
+infinity, the West delights in boundaries. Plato came to
+join and enhance the energy of each. The excellence of
+Europe and Asia is in his brain. No man ever more fully
+acknowledged the Ineffable; but having paid his homage,
+as for the human race, to the illimitable, he then stood
+erect, and for the human race affirmed: "And yet things
+are knowable!" Full of the genius of Europe, he said
+"Culture," he said "Nature," but he failed not to add,
+"There is also the divine."</p>
+
+<p>This leads us to the central figure which he has established
+in his academy. Socrates and Plato are the double-star
+which the most powerful instrument will not entirely
+separate. Socrates, in his traits and genius, is the best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span>
+example of that synthesis which constitutes Plato's extraordinary
+power.</p>
+
+<p>Socrates, a man of humble stem, and a personal homeliness
+so remarkable as to be a cause of wit in others, was
+a cool fellow, with a knowledge of his man, be he whom
+he might whom he talked with, which laid the companion
+open to certain defeat in debate; and in debate he immoderately
+delighted. He was what in our country people
+call "an old one." This hard-headed humorist, whose
+drollery diverted the young patricians, turns out in the
+sequel to have a probity as invincible as his logic, and to
+be, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his religion.
+When accused before the judges, he affirmed the immortality
+of the soul and a future reward and punishment,
+and, refusing to recant, was condemned to die; he entered
+the prison and took away all ignominy from the place. The
+fame of this prison, the fame of the discourses there,
+and the drinking of the hemlock, are one of the most
+precious passages in the history of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The rare coincidence in one ugly body of the droll
+and the martyr, the keen street debater with the sweetest
+saint known to any history at that time, had forcibly
+struck the mind of Plato, and the figure of Socrates
+placed itself in the foreground of the scene as the fittest
+dispenser of the intellectual treasures he had to communicate.</p>
+
+<p>It remains to say that the defect of Plato is that he is
+literary, and never otherwise. His writings have not the
+vital authority which the screams of prophets and the
+sermons of unlettered Arabs and Jews possess.</p>
+
+<p>And he had not a system. The acutest German, the
+lovingest disciple could never tell what Platonism was.
+No power of genius has ever yet had the smallest success
+in explaining existence. The perfect enigma remains.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>Montaigne</i></h4>
+
+<p>The philosophers affirm disdainfully the superiority
+of ideas. To men of this world the man of ideas appears
+out of his reason. The abstractionist and the materialist
+thus mutually exasperating each other, there arises
+a third party to occupy the middle ground between the
+two, the sceptic. He labours to be the beam of the balance.
+There is so much to say on all sides. This is the
+position occupied by Montaigne.</p>
+
+<p>In 1571, on the death of his father, he retired from the
+practice of the law, at Bordeaux, and settled himself
+on his estate. Downright and plain dealing, and abhorring
+to be deceived or to deceive, he was esteemed
+in the country for his sense and probity. In the civil
+wars of the League, which converted every house into
+a fort, Montaigne kept his gates open, and his house
+without defence. All parties freely came and went, his
+courage and honor being universally esteemed.</p>
+
+<p>Montaigne is the frankest and honestest of all writers.
+The essays are an entertaining soliloquy on every random
+topic that comes into his head, treating everything
+without ceremony, yet with masculine sense. I know
+not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is
+the language of conversation transferred to a book.
+Montaigne talks with shrewdness, knows the world, and
+books, and himself; never shrieks, or protests, or prays.
+He keeps the plain; he rarely mounts or sinks; he likes
+to feel solid ground and the stones underneath.</p>
+
+<p>We are natural believers. We are persuaded that a
+thread runs through all things, and all worlds are strung
+on it as beads. But though we reject a sour, dumpish
+unbelief, to the sceptical class, which Montaigne represents,
+every man at some time belongs. The ground occupied
+by the sceptic is the vestibule of the temple. The
+interrogation of custom at all points is an inevitable stage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span>
+in the growth of every superior mind. It stands in the
+mind of the wise sceptic that our life in this world is not
+quite so easy of interpretation as churches and school
+books say. He does not wish to take ground against these
+benevolences, but he says: "There are doubts. Shall
+we, because good nature inclines us to virtue's side, say,
+'There are no doubts&mdash;and lie for the right?' Is not the
+satisfaction of the doubts essential to all manliness?"</p>
+
+<p>I may play with the miscellany of facts, and take
+those superficial views which we call scepticism; but
+I know they will presently appear to me in that order
+which makes scepticism impossible. For the world is
+saturated with deity and law. Things seem to tend
+downward, to justify despondency, to promote rogues,
+to defeat the just; but by knaves as by martyrs the just
+cause is carried forward, and general ends are somewhat
+answered. The world-spirit is a good swimmer,
+and storms and waves cannot drown him. Through the
+years and the centuries, through evil agents, through
+toys and atoms, a great and beneficent tendency irresistibly
+streams. So let a man learn to look for the permanent
+in the mutable and fleeting; let him learn to
+bear the disappearance of things he was wont to reverence
+without losing his reverence.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Shakespeare</i></h4>
+
+<p>Shakespeare is the only biographer of Shakespeare.
+So far from Shakespeare being the least known, he is
+the one person in all modern history known to us. What
+point of morals, of manners, of economy, of philosophy,
+of taste, of conduct of life has he not settled? What
+district of man's work has he not remembered? What
+king has he not taught statecraft? What maiden has not
+found him finer than her delicacy? What lover has he
+not outloved?</p>
+
+<p>Some able and appreciating critics think no criticism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span>
+on Shakespeare valuable that does not rest purely on
+the dramatic merit; that he is falsely judged as poet
+and philosopher. I think as highly as these critics of his
+dramatic merit, but still think it secondary. He was a full
+man who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and images,
+which, seeking vent, found the drama next at hand.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare is as much out of the category of
+eminent authors as he is out of the crowd. He is inconceivably
+wise; the others, conceivably. With this
+wisdom of life is the equal endowment of imaginative
+and lyric power. An omnipresent humanity co-ordinates
+all his faculties. He has no peculiarity, no importunate
+topic, but all is duly given. No mannerist is he; he
+has no discoverable egotism&mdash;the great he tells greatly,
+the small subordinately. He is wise without emphasis
+or assertion; he is strong as Nature is strong, who
+lifts the land into mountain slopes without effort, and
+by the same rule as she floats a bubble in the air, and
+likes as well to do the one as the other. This power of
+transferring the inmost truth of things into music and
+verse makes him the type of the poet.</p>
+
+<p>One royal trait that belongs to Shakespeare is his
+cheerfulness. He delights in the world, in man, in
+woman, for the lovely light that sparkles from them.
+Beauty, the spirit of joy, he sheds over the universe. If
+he appeared in any company of human souls, who would
+not march in his troop? He touches nothing that does
+not borrow health and longevity from his festal style.
+He was master of the revels to mankind.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Napoleon</i></h4>
+
+<p>Among the eminent persons of the nineteenth century,
+Bonaparte owes his predominance to the fidelity with
+which he expresses the aim of the masses of active and
+cultivated men. If Napoleon was Europe, it was because
+the people whom he swayed were little Napoleons.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span>
+He is the representative of the class of industry and
+skill. "God has granted," says the Koran, "to every
+people a prophet in its own tongue." Paris, London,
+and New York, the spirit of commerce, of money, of
+material power, were also to have their prophet&mdash;and
+Bonaparte was qualified and sent. He was the idol of
+common men because he, in transcendent degree, had
+the qualities and powers of common men. He came
+to his own and they received him.</p>
+
+<p>An Italian proverb declares that if you would succeed
+you must not be too good. Napoleon renounced,
+once for all, sentiments and affections, and helped himself
+with his hands and his head. The art of war was
+the game in which he exerted his arithmetic. He had a
+directness of action never before combined with so much
+comprehension. History is full of the imbecility of
+kings and governors. They are a class of persons to
+be much pitied, for they know not what they should do.
+But Napoleon understood his business. He knew what
+to do, and he flew to his mark. He put out all his
+strength; he risked everything; he spared nothing; he
+went to the edge of his possibilities.</p>
+
+<p>This vigour was guarded and tempered by the coldest
+prudence and punctuality. His very attack was never
+the inspiration of courage, but the result of calculation.
+The necessity of his position required a hospitality to
+every sort of talent, and his feeling went along with
+this policy. In fact, every species of merit was sought
+and advanced under his government. Seventeen men
+in his time were raised from common soldiers to the rank
+of king, marshal, duke, or general. I call Napoleon the
+agent or attorney of the middle class of modern society.</p>
+
+<p>His life was an experiment, under the most favourable
+conditions, of the powers of intellect without conscience.
+All passed away, like the smoke of his artillery,
+and left no trace. He did all that in him lay to
+live and thrive without moral principle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>Goethe</i></h4>
+
+<p>I find a provision in the constitution of the world for
+the writer or secretary who is to report the doings of
+the miraculous spirit of life that everywhere throbs and
+works. Nature will be reported. All things are engaged
+in writing their history. The planet goes attended
+by its shadow. The air is full of sounds, the sky of
+tokens; the ground is all memoranda and signatures.</p>
+
+<p>Society has really no graver interest than the well-being
+of the literary class. Still, the writer does not
+stand with us on any commanding ground. I think this
+to be his own fault. There have been times when he was
+a sacred person; he wrote Bibles; the first hymns; the
+codes; the epics; tragic songs; Sibylline verses; Chaldæan
+oracles. Every word was true, and woke the nations to
+new life. How can he be honoured when he is a sycophant
+ducking to the giddy opinion of a reckless public?</p>
+
+<p>Goethe was the philosopher of the nineteenth century
+multitude, hundred-handed, Argus-eyed, able and happy
+to cope with the century's rolling miscellany of facts and
+sciences, and by his own versatility dispose of them with
+ease; and what he says of religion, of passion, of marriage,
+of manners, of property, of paper-money, of
+periods of belief, of omens, of luck, of whatever else,
+refuses to be forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>What distinguishes Goethe, for French and English
+readers, is an habitual reference to interior truth. But
+I dare not say that Goethe ascended to the highest
+grounds from which genius has spoken. He is incapable
+of self-surrender to the moral sentiment. Goethe
+can never be dear to men. His is a devotion to truth
+for the sake of culture. But the idea of absolute eternal
+truth, without reference to my own enlargement by it is
+higher; and the surrender to the torrent of poetic inspiration
+is higher.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_126"><a name="ERASMUS" id="ERASMUS">ERASMUS</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Familiar Colloquies</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Desiderius Erasmus, the most learned ecclesiastic of the fifteenth
+century, and the friend of Luther and other reformers,
+was born at Rotterdam on October 28, 1466, and died at Basel
+on July 12, 1536. He was the son of a Dutchman named Gerard,
+and, according to the fashion of the age, changed his family
+name into its respective Latin and Greek equivalents, Desiderius
+and Erasmus, meaning "desired," or "loved." Entering the
+priesthood in 1492, he pursued his studies at Paris, and became
+so renowned a scholar that he was, on visiting England, received
+with distinction, not only at the universities, but also by the
+king. For some time Erasmus settled in Italy, brilliant prospects
+being held out to him at Rome; but his restless temperament
+impelled him to wander again, and he came again to
+England, where he associated with the most distinguished
+scholars, including Dean Colet and Sir Thomas More. Perhaps
+nothing in the whole range of mediæval literature made
+a greater sensation immediately on its appearance, in 1521,
+than the "Colloquia," or "Familiar Colloquies Concerning Men,
+Manners, and Things," of Erasmus. As its title indicates, it
+consists of dialogues, and its author intended it to make youths
+more proficient in Latin, that language being the chief vehicle
+of intercommunication in the Middle Ages. But Erasmus
+claims, in his preface, that another purpose of the book is to
+make better men as well as better Latinists, for he says: "If
+the ancient teachers of children are commended who allured
+the young with wafers, I think it ought not to be charged on
+me that by the like reward I allure youths either to the elegancy
+of the Latin tongue or to piety." This selection is made from
+the Latin text.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>Concerning Men, Manners and Things</i></h4>
+
+<p>Erasmus issued his first edition of the "Colloquies"
+in 1521. Successive editions appeared with great rapidity.
+Its popularity wherever Latin was read was immense,
+but it was condemned by the Sarbonne, prohibited
+in France, and devoted to the flames publicly in
+Spain. The reader of its extraordinary chapters will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span>
+not fail to comprehend that such a fate was inevitable
+in the case of such a production in those times. For, as
+the friend of the reformers who were "turning the world
+upside down," Erasmus in this treatise penned the most
+audacious, sardonic, and withering onslaught ever delivered
+by any writer on ecclesiastical corruption of religion.
+He never attacks religion itself, but extols and defends
+it; his aim is to launch a series of terrific innuendoes
+on ecclesiasticism as it had developed and as he saw
+it. He satirically, and even virulently, attacks monks
+and many of their habits, the whole system of cloister-life,
+the festivals and pilgrimages which formed one of
+the chief features of religious activity, and the grotesque
+superstitions which his peculiar genius for eloquent irony
+so well qualified him to caricature.</p>
+
+<p>This great work, one of the epoch-making books of the
+world, consists of sixty-two "Colloquies," of very varying
+length. They treat of the most curiously diverse
+topics, as may be imagined from such titles of the chapters
+as "The Youth's Piety," "The Lover and the
+Maiden," "The Shipwreck," "The Epithalamium of
+Peter Egidius," "The Alchemist," "The Horse Cheat,"
+"The Cyclops, or the Gospel Carrier," "The Assembly
+or Parliament of Women," "Concerning Early Rising."</p>
+
+<p>A sample of the style of the "Colloquies" in the more
+serious sections may be taken from the one entitled "The
+Religious Banquet."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nephew</span>: How unwillingly have I seen many Christians
+die. Some put their trust in things not to be confided
+in; others breathe out their souls in desperation,
+either out of a consciousness of their lewd lives, or by
+reason of scruples that have been injected into their
+minds, even in their dying hours, by some indiscreet men,
+die almost in despair.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chrysoglottus</span>: It is no wonder to find them die so,
+who have spent their lives in philosophising all their lives
+about ceremonies.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Nephew</span>: What do you mean by ceremonies?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chrysoglottus</span>: I will tell you, but with protestation
+beforehand, over and over, that I do not find fault with
+the rites and sacraments of the Church, but rather highly
+approve of them; but I blame a wicked and superstitious
+sort of people who teach people to put their confidence
+in these things, omitting those things that make them
+truly Christians. If you look into Christians in common,
+do they not live as if the whole sum of religion
+consisted in ceremonies? With how much pomp are the
+ancient rites of the Church set forth in baptism? The
+infant waits without the church door, the exorcism is
+performed, the catechism is performed, vows are made,
+Satan is abjured with all his pomps and pleasures; then
+the child is anointed, signed, seasoned with salt, dipped,
+a charge given to its sureties to see it well brought up;
+and the oblation money being paid, they are discharged,
+and by this time the child passes for a Christian, and in
+some sense is so. A little time after it is anointed again,
+and in time learns to confess, receive the sacrament, is
+accustomed to rest on holy days, to hear divine service,
+to fast sometimes, to abstain from flesh; and if he observes
+all these he passes for an absolute Christian. He
+marries a wife, and then comes on another sacrament;
+he enters into holy orders, is anointed again and consecrated,
+his habit is changed, and then to prayers.</p>
+
+<p>Now, I approve of the doing of all this well enough,
+but the doing of them more out of custom than conscience
+I do not approve. But to think that nothing
+else is requisite for the making of a Christian I absolutely
+disapprove. For the greater part of the men in
+the world trust to these things, and think they have nothing
+else to do but get wealth by right or wrong, to
+gratify their passions of lust, rage, malice, ambition.
+And this they do till they come on their death-bed. And
+then follow more ceremonies&mdash;confession upon confession
+more unction still, the eucharists are administered;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span>
+tapers, the cross, the holy water are brought in; indulgences
+are procured, if they are to be had for love or
+money; and orders are given for a magnificent funeral.
+Now, although these things may be well enough, as they
+are done in conformity to ecclesiastical customs, yet there
+are some more internal impressions which have an efficacy
+to fortify us against the assaults of death by filling
+our hearts with joy, and helping us to go out of the world
+with a Christian assurance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Eusebius</span>: When I was in England I saw St. Thomas'
+tomb all over bedecked with a vast number of jewels of
+an immense price, besides other rich furniture, even to
+admiration. I had rather that these superfluities should
+be applied to charitable uses than to be reserved for
+princes that shall one time or other make a booty of
+them. The holy man, I am confident, would have been
+better pleased to have had his tomb adorned with leaves
+and flowers.... Rich men, nowadays, will have
+their monuments in churches, whereas in time past they
+could hardly get room for their saints there. If I were
+a priest or a bishop, I would put it into the head of these
+thick-skulled courtiers or merchants that if they would
+atone for their sins to Almighty God they should privately
+bestow their liberality on the relief of the poor.</p>
+
+<div class="tb">*<span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span></div>
+
+<p>A wonderful plea for peace, in shape of an exquisite
+satire, is the "Colloquy" entitled "Charon." It is a
+dialogue between Charon, the ghostly boatman on the
+River Styx, and Genius Alastor. Its style may be gathered
+from the following excerpt.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: Whither are you going so brisk, and in such
+haste, Alastor?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: O Charon, you come in the nick of time; I
+was coming to you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: Well, what news do you bring?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: I bring a message to you and Prosperine
+that you will be glad to hear. All the Furies have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span>
+no less diligent than they have been successful in gaining
+their point. There is not one foot of ground upon earth
+that they have not infected with their hellish calamities,
+seditions, wars, robberies, and plagues. Do you get your
+boat and your oars ready; you will have such a vast multitude
+of ghosts come to you anon that I am afraid you
+will not be able to carry them all over yourself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: I could have told you that.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: How came you to know it?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: Ossa brought me that news about two days
+ago!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: Nothing is more swift than that goddess.
+But what makes you loitering here, having left your boat?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: My business brought me hither. I came
+hither to provide myself with a good strong three-oared
+boat, for my boat is so rotten and leaky with age that it
+will not carry such a burden, if Ossa told me true.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: What was it that Ossa told you?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: That the three monarchs of the world were
+bent upon each other's destruction with a mortal hatred,
+and that no part of Christendom was free from the rage
+of war; for these three have drawn in all the rest to be
+engaged in the war with them. They are all so haughty
+that not one of them will in the least submit to the other.
+Nor are the Danes, the Poles, the Scots, nor the Turks
+at quiet, but are preparing to make dreadful havoc.
+The plague rages everywhere: in Spain, Britain, Italy,
+France; and, more than all, there is a new fire sprung
+out of the variety of opinions, which has so corrupted
+the minds of all men that there is no such thing as sincere
+friendship anywhere; but brother is at enmity with
+brother, and husband and wife cannot agree. And it is
+to be hoped that this distraction will be a glorious destruction
+of mankind, if these controversies, that are
+now managed by the tongue and pen, come once to be
+decided by arms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: All that fame has told you is true; for I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span>
+myself, having been a constant companion of the Furies,
+have with these eyes seen more than all this, and that
+they never at any time have approved themselves more
+worthy of their name than now.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Charon</span>: But there is danger lest some good spirit
+should start up and of a sudden exhort them to peace.
+And men's minds are variable, for I have heard that
+among the living there is one Polygraphus who is continually,
+by his writing, inveighing against wars, and exhorting
+to peace.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alastor</span>: Ay, ay, but he has a long time been talking
+to the deaf. He once wrote a sort of hue and cry after
+peace, that was banished or driven away; after that an
+epitaph upon peace defunct. But then, on the other
+hand, there are others that advance our cause no less
+than do the Furies themselves. They are a sort of animals
+in black and white vestments, ash-coloured coats,
+and various other dresses, that are always hovering about
+the courts of the princes, and are continually instilling
+into their ears the love of war, and exhorting the nobility
+and common people to it, haranguing them in their sermons
+that it is a just, holy, and religious war. And
+that which would make you stand in admiration at the
+confidence of these men is the cry of both parties. In
+France they preach it up that God is on the French side,
+and that they can never be overcome that has God for
+their protector. In England and Spain the cry is, "The
+war is not the king's, but God's"; therefore, if they do
+but fight like men, they depend on getting the victory,
+and if anyone should chance to fall in the battle, he will
+not die, but fly directly up into heaven, arms and all.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 id="ch_132"><a name="In_Praise_of_Folly" id="In_Praise_of_Folly">In Praise of Folly</a></h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"The Praise of Folly" was written in Latin, and the title, "Encomium
+Moriæ," is a pun on the name of his friend, the Greek
+word <i xml:lang="grc" lang="grc">moria</i> (folly) curiously corresponding with his host's family
+name. The purpose of this inimitable satire is to cover every
+species of foolish men and women with ridicule. Yet through
+all the biting sarcasm runs an unbroken vein of religious seriousness,
+the contrast greatly enhancing the impression produced
+by this masterpiece.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Stultitia's Declamation</i></h4>
+
+<p>In whatever manner I, the Goddess of Folly, may be
+generally spoken of by mortals, yet I assert it emphatically
+that it is from me, Stultitia, and from my influence
+only, that gods and men derive all mirth and cheerfulness.
+You laugh, I see. Well, even that is a telling
+argument in my favour. Actually now, in this most
+numerous assembly, as soon as ever I have opened my
+mouth, the countenances of all have instantly brightened
+up with fresh and unwonted hilarity, whereas but a few
+moments ago you were all looking demure and woebegone.</p>
+
+<p>On my very brow my name is written. No one would
+take me, Stultitia, for Minerva. No one would contend
+that I am the Goddess of Wisdom. The mere expression
+of my countenance tells its own tale. Not only am
+I incapable of deceit, but even those who are under my
+sway are incapable of deceit likewise. From my illustrious
+sire, Plutus [Wealth], I glory to be sprung, for
+he, and no other, was the great progenitor of gods and
+men, and I care not what Hesiod, or Homer, or even
+Jupiter himself may maintain to the contrary. Everything,
+I affirm, is subjected to the control of Plutus.
+War, peace, empires, designs, judicial decisions, weddings,
+treaties, alliances, laws, arts, things ludicrous and
+things serious, are all administered in obedience to his
+sovereign will.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span>
+Now notice the admirable foresight which nature exercises,
+in order to ensure that men shall never be destitute
+of folly as the principal ingredient in their constitution.
+Wisdom, as your divines and moralists put it,
+consists in men being guided by their reason; and folly,
+in their being actuated by their passions. See then here
+what Jupiter has done. In order to prevent the life of
+man from being utterly intolerable, he has endowed him
+with reason in singularly small proportion to his passions&mdash;only,
+so to speak, as a half-ounce is to a pound.
+And whereas he has dispersed his passions over every
+portion of his body, he has confined his reason to a narrow
+little crevice in his skull.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, of these silly human beings, the male sex is
+born under the necessity of transacting the business of
+the world. When Jupiter was taking counsel with me I
+advised him to add a woman to the man&mdash;a creature
+foolish and frivolous, but full of laughter and sweetness,
+who would season and sweeten by her folly the sadness
+of his manly intelligence.</p>
+
+<p>When Plato doubted whether or not he should place
+women in the class of rational animals, he really only
+wished to indicate the remarkable silliness of that sex.
+Yet women will not be so absolutely senseless as to be
+offended if I, a woman myself, the goddess Stultitia, tell
+them thus plainly that they are fools. They will, if they
+look at the matter aright, be flattered by it. For they
+are by many degrees more favoured creatures than men.
+They have beauty&mdash;and oh, what a gift is that! By its
+power they rule the rulers of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The supreme wish of women is to win the admiration
+of men, and they have no more effectual means to this
+end than folly. Men, no doubt, will contend that it is
+the pleasure they have in women's society, and not their
+folly, that attracts them. I answer that their pleasure
+is folly, and nothing but folly, in which they delight.
+You see, then, from what fountain is derived the highest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span>
+and most exquisite enjoyment that falls to man's lot
+in life. But there are some men (waning old crones,
+most of them) who love their glasses better than the
+lasses, and place their chief delight in tippling. Others
+love to make fools of themselves to raise a laugh at a
+feast, and I beg to say that of laughter, fun, and pleasantry,
+I&mdash;Folly&mdash;am the sole purveyor.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Mockery of Wisdom</i></h4>
+
+<p>So much for the notion that wisdom is of any use in
+the pleasures of life. Well, the next thing that our gods
+of wisdom will assert is that wisdom is necessary for
+affairs of state. Says Plato, "Those states will prosper
+whose rulers are guided by the spirit of philosophy."
+With this opinion I totally disagree. Consult history,
+and it will tell you that the two Catos, Brutus, Cassius,
+the Gracchi, Cicero, and Marcus Antoninus all disturbed
+the tranquillity of the state and brought down on them
+by their philosophy the disgust and disfavour of the citizens.
+And who are the men who are most prone, from
+weariness of life, to seek to put an end to it? Why, men
+of reputed wisdom. Not to mention Diogenes, the
+Catos, the Cassii, and the Bruti, there is the remarkable
+case of Chiron, who, though he actually had immortality
+conferred on him, voluntarily preferred death.</p>
+
+<p>You see, then, that if men were universally wise, the
+world would be depopulated, and there would be need
+of a new creation. But, since the world generally is under
+the influence of folly and not of wisdom, the case is,
+happily, different. I, Folly, by inspiring men with hopes
+of good things they will never get, so charm away their
+woes that they are far from wishing to die. Nay, the
+less cause there is for them to desire to live, the more,
+nevertheless, do they love life. It is of my bounty that
+you see everywhere men of Nestorean longevity, mumbling,
+without brains, without teeth, whose hair is white,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span>
+whose heads are bald, so enamoured of life, so eager to
+look youthful, that they use dyes, wigs, and other disguises,
+and take to wife some frisky heifer of a creature;
+while aged and cadaverous-looking women are seen
+caterwauling, and, as the Greeks express it, behaving
+goatishly, in order to induce some beauteous Phaon to
+pay court to them.</p>
+
+<p>As to the wisdom of the learned professions, the more
+empty-headed and the more reckless any member of any
+one of them is, the more he will be thought of. The
+physician is always in request, and yet medicine, as it is
+now frequently practised, is nothing but a system of
+pure humbug. Next in repute to the physicians stand
+the pettifogging lawyers, who are, according to the philosophers,
+a set of asses. And asses, I grant you that, they
+are. Nevertheless, it is by the will and pleasure of these
+asses that the business of the world is transacted, and
+they make fortunes while the poor theologians starve.</p>
+
+<p>By the immortal gods, I solemnly swear to you that
+the happiest men are those whom the world calls fools,
+simpletons, and blockheads. For they are entirely devoid
+of the fear of death. They have no accusing consciences
+to make them fear it. They are, happily, without
+the experience of the thousands of cares that lacerate
+the minds of other men. They feel no shame, no solicitude,
+no ambition, no envy, no love. And, according to
+the theologians, they are free from any imputation of
+the guilt of sin! Ah, ye besotted men of wisdom, you
+need no further evidence than the ills you have gone
+through to convince you from what a mass of calamities
+I have delivered my idiotic favourites.</p>
+
+<p>To be deceived, people say, is wretched. But I hold
+that what is most wretched is not to be deceived. They
+are in great error who imagine that a man's happiness
+consists in things as they are. No; it consists entirely
+in his opinion of what they are. Man is so constituted
+that falsehood is far more agreeable to him than truth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>
+Does anyone need proof of this? Let him visit the
+churches, and assuredly he will find it. If solemn truth
+is dwelt on, the listeners at once become weary, yawn,
+and sleep; but if the orator begins some silly tale, they
+are all attention. And the saints they prefer to appeal
+to are those whose histories are most made up of fable
+and romance. Though to be deceived adds much more
+to your happiness than not to be deceived, it yet costs
+you much less trouble.</p>
+
+<p>And now to pass to another argument in my favour.
+Among all the praises of Bacchus this is the chief, that
+he drives away care; but he does it only for a short time,
+and then all your care comes again. How much more
+complete are the benefits mankind derive from me! I
+also afford them intoxication, but an intoxication whose
+influence is perennial, and all, too, without cost to them.
+And my favours I deny to nobody. Mars, Apollo, Saturn,
+Phœbus, and Neptune are more chary of their bounties
+and dole them out to their favourites only but I
+confine my favours to none.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Classification of Fools</i></h4>
+
+<p>Of all the men whose doings I have witnessed, the
+most sordid are men of trade, and appropriately so, for
+they handle money, a very sordid thing indeed. Yet,
+though they lie, pilfer, cheat, and impose on everybody,
+as soon as they grow rich they are looked up to as
+princes. But as I look round among the various classes
+of men, I specially note those who are esteemed to possess
+more than ordinary sagacity. Among these a foremost
+place is occupied by the schoolmasters. How
+miserable would these be were it not that I, Folly, of
+my benevolence, ameliorate their wretchedness and render
+them insanely happy in the midst of their drudgery!
+Their lot is one of semi-starvation and of debasing slavery.
+In the schools, those bridewells of uproar and confusion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span>
+they grow prematurely old and broken down,
+Yet, thanks to my good services, they know not their
+own misery. For in their own estimation they are
+mighty fine fellows, strutting about and striking terror
+into the hearts of trembling urchins, half scarifying the
+little wretches with straps, canes, and birches. They
+are, apparently, quite unconscious of the dust and dirt
+with which their schoolrooms are polluted. In fact, their
+own most wretched servitude is to them a kingdom of
+felicity.</p>
+
+<p>The poets owe less to me. Yet they, too, are enthusiastic
+devotees of mine, for their entire business consists
+in tickling the ears of fools with silly ditties and ridiculously
+romantic tales. Of the services of my attendants,
+Philautia [Self-approbation] and Kolakia [Flattery],
+they never fail to avail themselves, and really I
+do not know that there is any other class of men in the
+world amongst whom I should find more devoted and
+constant followers.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, there are the rhetoricians. Quintilian, the
+prince of them all, has written an immense chapter on
+no more serious subject than how to excite a laugh.
+Those, again, who hunt after immortal fame in the domain
+of literature unquestionably belong to my fraternity.
+Poor fellows! They pass a wretched existence
+poring over their manuscripts, and for what reward?
+For the praise of the very, very limited few who are
+capable of appreciating their erudition.</p>
+
+<p>Very naturally, the barristers merit our attention next.
+Talk of female garrulity! Why, I would back any one
+of them to win a prize for chattering against any twenty
+of the most talkative women that you could pick out.
+And well indeed would it be if they had no worse fault
+than that. I am bound to say that they are not only
+loquacious, but pugnacious. Their quarrelsomeness is
+astounding.</p>
+
+<p>After these come the bearded and gowned philosophers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span>
+Their insane self-deception as to their sagacity
+and learning is very delightful. They beguile their time
+with computing the magnitude of the sun, moon, and
+stars, and they assign causes for all the phenomena of
+the universe, as if nature had initiated them into all her
+secrets. In reality they know nothing, but profess to
+know everything.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;On Princes and Pontiffs</i></h4>
+
+<p>It is high time that I should say a few words to you
+about kings and the royal princes belonging to their
+courts. Very different are they from those whom I have
+just been describing, who pretend to be wise when they
+are the reverse, for these high personages frankly and
+openly live a life of folly, and it is just that I should give
+them their due, and frankly and openly tell them so.
+They seem to regard it to be the duty of a king to
+addict himself to the chase; to keep up a grand stud of
+horses; to extract as much money as possible from the
+people; to caress by every means in his power the vulgar
+populace, in order to win their good graces, and so
+make them the subservient tools of his tyrannical behests.</p>
+
+<p>As for the grandees of the court, a more servile, insipid,
+empty-headed set than the generality of them you
+will fail to find anywhere. Yet they wish to be regarded
+as the greatest personalities on earth. Not a very modest
+wish, and yet, in one respect, they are modest
+enough. For instance, they wish to be bedecked with
+gold and gems and purple, and other external symbols
+of worth and wisdom, but nothing further do they require.</p>
+
+<p>These courtiers, however, are superlatively happy in
+the belief that they are perfectly virtuous. They lie in
+bed till noon. Then they summon their chaplain to their
+bedside to offer up the sacrifice of the mass, and as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span>
+hireling priest goes through his solemn farce with perfunctory
+rapidity, they, meanwhile, have all but dropped
+off again into a comfortable condition of slumber. After
+this they betake themselves to breakfast; and that is
+scarcely over when dinner supervenes. And then come
+their pastimes&mdash;their dice, their cards, and their gambling&mdash;their
+merriment with jesters and buffoons, and
+their gallantries with court favourites.</p>
+
+<p>Next let us turn our attention to popes, cardinals, and
+bishops, who have long rivalled, if they do not surpass,
+the state and magnificence of princes. If bishops did
+but bear in mind that a pastoral staff is an emblem of
+pastoral duties, and that the cross solemnly carried before
+them is a reminder of the earnestness with which
+they should strive to crucify the flesh, their lot would
+be one replete with sadness and solicitude. As things
+are, a right bonny time do they spend, providing abundant
+pasturage for themselves, and leaving their flocks
+to the negligent charge of so-called friars and vicars.</p>
+
+<p>Fortune favours the fool. We colloquially speak of
+him and such as him as "lucky birds," while, when we
+speak of a wise man, we proverbially describe him as
+one who has been "born under an evil star," and as one
+whose "horse will never carry him to the front." If you
+wish to get a wife, mind, above all things, that you beware
+of wisdom; for the girls, without exception, are
+heart and soul so devoted to fools, that you may rely
+on it a man who has any wisdom in him they will shun
+as they would a vampire.</p>
+
+<p>And now, to sum up much in a few words, go among
+what classes of men you will, go among popes, princes,
+cardinals, judges, magistrates, friends, foes, great men,
+little men, and you will not fail to find that a man with
+plenty of money at his command has it in his power to
+obtain everything that he sets his heart upon. A wise
+man, however, despises money. And what is the consequence?
+Everyone despises him!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_140"><a name="GESTA_ROMANORUM" id="GESTA_ROMANORUM">GESTA ROMANORUM</a></h2>
+
+<h3>A Story-Book of the Middle Ages</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>The "Gesta Romanorum," or "Deeds of the Romans," a
+quaint collection of moral tales compiled by the monks, was
+used in the Middle Ages for pulpit instruction. Hence the curious
+"Applications" to the stories, two of which are here given
+as examples. Wynkyn de Worde was the first to print the
+"Gesta" in English, about 1510. His version is based on Latin
+manuscripts of English origin, and differs from the first edition,
+and from the Latin text printed abroad about 1473. The
+stories have little to do with authentic Roman history, and
+abound in amusing confusions, contradictions, and anachronisms.
+But their interest is undeniable, and they form the source
+of many famous pieces of English literature. In the English
+"Gesta" occur the originals of the bond and casket incidents in
+"The Merchant of Venice."</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Of Love</i></h4>
+
+<p>Pompey was a wise and powerful king. He had one
+well-beloved daughter, who was very beautiful. Her
+he committed to the care of five soldiers, who were to
+guard her night and day. Before the door of the princess's
+chamber they hung a burning lamp, and, moreover,
+they kept a loud-barking dog to rouse them from sleep.
+But the lady panted for the pleasures of the world, and
+one day, looking abroad, she was espied by a certain
+amorous duke, who made her many fair promises.</p>
+
+<p>Hoping much from these, the princess slew the dog,
+put out the light, and fled by night with the duke. Now,
+there was in the palace a certain doughty champion, who
+pursued the fugitives and beheaded the duke. He
+brought the lady home again; but her father would not
+see her, and thenceforward she passed her time bewailing
+her misdeeds.</p>
+
+<p>Now, at court there was a wise and skilful mediator,
+who, being moved with compassion, reconciled the lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>
+with her father and betrothed her to a powerful nobleman.
+The king then gave his daughter diverse gifts.
+These were a rich, flowing tunic inscribed with the
+words, "Forgiven. Sin no more"; and a golden coronet
+with the legend, "Thy dignity is from me." Her
+champion gave her a ring, engraved, "I have loved
+thee; learn thou to love." Likewise the mediator bestowed
+a ring, saying, "What have I done? How much?
+Why?" A third ring was given by the king's son, with
+the words: "Despise not thy nobility." A fourth ring,
+from her brother, bore the motto: "Approach! Fear
+not. I am thy brother." Her husband gave a golden
+coronet, confirming his wife in the inheritance of his
+possessions, and superscribed: "Now thou are espoused,
+sin no more."</p>
+
+<p>The lady kept these gifts as long as she lived. She
+regained the affections of those whom her folly had
+estranged, and closed her days in peace.</p>
+
+<h5>APPLICATION</h5>
+
+<p>My beloved, the king is our Heavenly Father; the
+daughter is the soul; the guardian soldiers are the five
+senses; the lamp is the will; the dog is conscience; the
+duke is the Evil One. The mediator is Christ. The
+cloak is our Lord's wounded body. The champion and
+the brother are likewise Christ; the coronet is His crown
+of thorns; the rings are the wounds in His hands and
+feet. He is also the Spouse. Let us study to keep these
+gifts uninjured.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Of Fidelity</i></h4>
+
+<p>The subject of a certain king, being captured by
+pirates, wrote to his father for ransom; but the father
+refused, and the youth was left wasting in prison. Now,
+his captor had a beautiful and virtuous daughter, who
+came to comfort the prisoner. At first he was too disconsolate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span>
+to listen to her, but at length he begged her
+to try to set him free. The lady feared her father's
+wrath, but at last, on promise of marriage, she freed the
+young man, and fled with him to his own country. His
+father said, "Son, I am overjoyed at thy return, but
+who is the lady under thy escort?"</p>
+
+<p>When his son told him, he charged him, on pain of
+losing his inheritance, not to marry her.</p>
+
+<p>"But she released me from deadly peril," said the
+youth.</p>
+
+<p>The father answered, "Son, thou mayest not confide
+in her, for she hath deceived her own father; and, furthermore,
+although she indeed set thee free, it was but
+to oblige thee to marry her. And since it was an unworthy
+passion that was the source of thy liberty, I
+think that she ought not to be thy wife."</p>
+
+<p>When the lady heard these reasons, she answered
+thus, "I have not deceived my parent. He that deceives
+diminishes a certain good. But my father is so rich that
+he needs not any addition. Wherefore, your son's ransom
+would have left him but little richer, while you it
+would have utterly impoverished. I have thus served
+you, and done my father no injury. As for unworthy
+passion, that arises from wealth, honours, or a handsome
+appearance, none of which your son possessed, for
+he had not even enough to procure his ransom, and imprisonment
+had destroyed his beauty. Therefore, I
+freed him out of compassion."</p>
+
+<p>When the father heard this, he could object nothing
+more. So the son married the lady with great pomp,
+and closed his life in peace.</p>
+
+<h5>APPLICATION</h5>
+
+<p>My beloved, the son is the human race, led captive by
+the devil. The father is the world, that will not redeem
+the sinner, but loves to detain him. The daughter is
+Christ.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;O Venial Sin</i></h4>
+
+<p>Julian, a noble soldier, fond of the chase, was one day
+pursuing a stag, which turned and addressed him thus,
+"Thou who pursuest me so fiercely shalt one day destroy
+thy parents."</p>
+
+<p>In great alarm, Julian sought a far country, where he
+enlisted with a certain chieftain. For his renowned
+services in war and peace he was made a knight, and
+wedded to the widow of a castellan, with her castle as a
+dowry.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, his parents sought him sorrowing, and
+coming at length to Julian's castle in his absence, they
+told his wife their story. The lady, for the love she
+bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and early
+in the morning went forth to her devotions. Julian returned,
+and softly entering his wife's apartment, saw two
+persons therein, and was filled with terrible alarm for
+his lady's fealty.</p>
+
+<p>Without pause, he slew both, and hurried out. Meeting
+his wife in the church porch, he fell into amazement,
+and asked who they might be. Hearing the truth, he
+was shaken with an agony of tears, and cried, "Accursed
+that I am! Dearest wife, forgive, and receive my last
+farewell!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," she replied. "Wilt thou abandon me, beloved,
+and leave me widowed? I, that have shared thy
+happiness will now share thy grief!"</p>
+
+<p>Together they departed to a great and dangerous
+river, where many had perished. There they built a
+hospital, where they abode in contrition, ferrying over
+such as wished to cross the river, and cherishing the
+poor. After many years, Julian was aroused at midnight
+by a dolorous voice calling his name. He found
+and ferried over a leper, perishing with cold. Failing
+to warm the wretch by other means, Julian placed him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>
+in his own bed, and strove by the heat of his own body
+to restore him. After a while he who seemed sick and
+cold and leprous appeared robed in immortal splendour,
+and, waving his light wings, seemed ready to mount up
+into heaven. Turning upon his wondering host a look
+of the utmost benignity, the visitant exclaimed, "Julian,
+the Lord hath sent me to thee to announce the acceptance
+of thy contrition. Ere long thou and thy partner will
+sleep in Him."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, the angelic messenger disappeared, and
+Julian and his wife, after a short time occupied in good
+works, died in peace.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Of the End of Sinners</i></h4>
+
+<p>Dionysius records that Perillus, wishing to become the
+artificer of Phalaris, the cruel tyrant of Agrigentum,
+presented him with a brazen bull. In its side was a
+secret door, for the entry of those who should be burned
+to death within. The idea was that the agonised cries
+of the victim, resembling the roaring of a bull and nothing
+human, should arouse no feeling of mercy. The
+king, highly applauding the invention, said, "Friend, the
+value of thy industry is still untried; more cruel even
+than the people account me, thou thyself shalt be the
+first victim."</p>
+
+<p>There is no law more equitable than that "the artificer
+of death should perish by his own devices," as Ovid hath
+observed.</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;Of Too Much Pride</i></h4>
+
+<p>As the Emperor Jovinian lay abed, reflecting on his
+power and possessions, he impiously asked, "Is there
+any other god than I?"</p>
+
+<p>Amid such thoughts he fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Now, on the morrow, as he followed the chase, he separated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span>
+himself from his followers in order to bathe in
+a stream. And as he bathed, one like him in all respects
+took the emperor's dress, and arraying himself
+in them, mounted the monarch's horse, and joined the
+royal retinue, who knew him not from their master.
+Jovinian, horseless and naked, was vexed beyond
+measure.</p>
+
+<p>"Miserable that I am," he exclaimed, "I will to a
+knight who lives hard by. Him have I promoted; haply
+he will befriend me." But when he declared himself
+to be Jovinian, the knight ordered him to be flogged.
+"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the emperor, "is it possible
+that one whom I have loaded with honours should use
+me thus?"</p>
+
+<p>Next he sought out a certain duke, one of his privy
+counsellors, and told his tale.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor, mad wretch," said the duke. "I am but
+newly returned from the palace, where I left the
+emperor."</p>
+
+<p>He therefore had Jovinian flogged, and imprisoned.
+Contriving to escape, he went to the palace. "Surely,"
+he reflected, "my servants will know me." But his own
+porter denied him. Nevertheless, he persuaded the man
+to take a secret sign to the empress, and to demand his
+imperial robes. The empress, sitting at table with the
+feigned emperor, was much disturbed, and said, "Oh,
+my lord, there is a vile fellow at the gate who declares
+the most hidden passages of our life, and says he is my
+husband."</p>
+
+<p>Being condemned to be dragged by a horse's tail,
+Jovinian, in despair, sought his confessor's cell. But
+the holy man would not open to him, although at last,
+being adjured by the name of the Crucified, he gave him
+shrift at the window. Thereupon he knew the emperor,
+and giving him some clothes, bade him show himself
+again at the palace. This he did, and was received with
+due obeisance. Still, none knew which was the emperor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span>
+and which the impostor, until the feigned emperor
+spake.</p>
+
+<p>"I," said he, "am the guardian angel of the king's
+soul. He has now purged his pride by penance; let
+your obedience wait on him."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he disappeared. The emperor gave thanks
+to God, lived happily after, and finished his days in
+peace.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;Of Avarice</i></h4>
+
+<p>A covetous and wicked carpenter placed all his riches
+in a log, which he hid by his fireside. Now, the sea
+swept away that part of his house, and drifted the log
+to a city where lived a generous man. He found the
+log, cleft it, and laid the gold in a secure place until he
+should discover the owner.</p>
+
+<p>Now, the carpenter, seeking his wealth with lamentations,
+came by chance to the house of him that had found
+it. Mentioning his loss, his host said to himself, "I will
+prove if God will that I return his money to him." He
+then made three cakes, one filled with earth, the second
+with dead men's bones, and the third with some of the
+lost gold. The carpenter, being invited to choose,
+weighed the cakes in his hand, and finding that with
+earth heaviest, took it.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I want more, my worthy host," said he, "I
+will choose that," laying his hand on the cake containing
+the bones. "The third you may keep for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou miserable varlet," cried the host. "It is thine
+own gold, which plainly the Lord wills not that I return
+to thee."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he distributed all the treasure among the
+poor, and drove the carpenter away from his house in
+great tribulation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>VII.&mdash;Of Temporary Tribulation</i></h4>
+
+<p>Antiochus, king of Antioch, had one lovely daughter,
+who was much courted. But her father, seeking to
+withhold her from marriage, proposed a riddle to every
+suitor, and each one who failed to guess the answer was
+put to death. Among the suitors came Apollonius, the
+young Prince of Tyre, who guessed the riddle, the
+answer to which revealed a shameful secret of the king's
+life. Antiochus, loudly denying that the young man had
+hit upon the truth, sent him away for thirty days, and
+bade him try again, on pain of death. So Apollonius
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Antiochus sent his steward, Taliarchus, to Tyre,
+with orders to destroy Apollonius; but by the time the
+steward arrived the prince had put to sea in a fleet laden
+with treasure, corn, and many changes of raiment.
+Hearing this, Antiochus set a price on the head of Apollonius,
+and pursued him with a great armament. The
+prince, arriving at Tharsus, saved that city from famine
+by the supplies he brought, and a statue was raised in
+his honour. Then, by the advice of one Stranguilio and
+his wife, Dionysias, he sailed to Pentapolis. On the way
+he suffered shipwreck, and reached that city on a plank.
+There, by his skill in athletics and music, he won the
+favour of Altistrates, the king, who gave him his daughter
+to wife.</p>
+
+<p>Some time after, hearing that the wicked Antiochus
+and his daughter had been killed by lightning, Apollonius
+and his wife set sail to take up the sovereignty of
+Antioch, which had fallen to him. On the way the lady
+died, leaving a new-born daughter. The prince placed
+his wife's body in a coffin smeared with pitch, and committed
+it to the deep. In the coffin he put money and a
+tablet, instructing anyone who found the body to bury
+it sumptuously. Apollonius returned to Pentapolis and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span>
+gave his infant daughter into the care of Stranguilio and
+Dionysias. Then he himself sailed away and wandered
+the world in deep grief. In the meantime, his wife's
+body was cast up at Ephesus, and was found by the
+physician Cerimon, one of whose pupils revived the lady,
+who became a vestal of Diana.</p>
+
+<p>Years passed, and the child, who was called Tharsia,
+incurred the jealousy of Dionysias, because she was
+fairer than her own child Philomatia. Dionysias
+sought to kill Tharsia, who, at the critical moment, was
+carried away by pirates, and sold into slavery at Machylena.
+There her beauty and goodness protected her, so
+that none who came to her master's evil house would do
+her wrong. She persuaded her owner to let her earn
+her bread by her accomplishments in music and the unravelling
+of hard sayings. Thus she won the love of the
+prince of that place, Athanagoras, who protected her.</p>
+
+<p>Some time afterwards a strange fleet came to Machylena.
+Athanagoras, struck by the beauty of one of the
+ships, went on board, and asked to see the owner. He
+found a rugged and melancholy man, who was none
+other than Apollonius. In due time that prince was
+joyfully reunited with his child, who was given in marriage
+to her perserver. Speedy vengeance overtook
+Tharsia's cruel owner, and later Stranguilio and Dionysias
+suffered for their misdeeds. Being warned by a
+dream to return to Ephesus, Apollonius found his wife
+in the precinct of the vestals, and, together with her, he
+reigned long and happily over Antioch and Tyre. After
+death he went into everlasting life. To which may God,
+of His infinite mercy, lead us all.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_149"><a name="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH" id="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH">OLIVER GOLDSMITH</a></h2>
+
+<h3>The Citizen of the World</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"The Citizen of the World," after appearing in the "Public
+Ledger" newspaper in 1760&ndash;61, was published in two volumes
+in 1762, with the sub-title, "Letters from a Chinese Philosopher,
+Residing in London, to his Friends in the East." It
+established Goldsmith's literary reputation (see Vol. IV, p. 275).
+The author's main purpose was to indulge in a keen, but not ill-natured,
+satire upon Western, and especially upon English, civilisation;
+but sometimes the satiric manner yields place to the
+philosophical.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>The Troubles of the Great</i><br />
+
+<span class="subhead">FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM, FIRST PRESIDENT
+OF THE CEREMONIAL ACADEMY AT PEKIN</span></h4>
+
+<p>The princes of Europe have found out a manner of
+rewarding their subjects who have behaved well, by presenting
+them with about two yards of blue ribbon, which
+is worn over the shoulder. They who are honoured with
+this mark of distinction are called knights, and the king
+himself is always the head of the order. This is a very
+frugal method of recompensing the most important services,
+and it is very fortunate for kings that their subjects
+are satisfied with such trifling rewards. Should a
+nobleman happen to lose his leg in battle, the king presents
+him with two yards of ribbon, and he is paid for
+the loss of his limb. Should an ambassador spend all
+his paternal fortunes in supporting the honour of his
+country abroad, the king presents him with two yards of
+ribbon, which is to be considered as an equivalent to his
+estate. In short, while a European king has a yard of
+blue or green ribbon left, he need be under no apprehension
+of wanting statesmen, generals, and soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot sufficiently admire those kingdoms in which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span>
+men with large patrimonial estates are willing thus to
+undergo real hardships for empty favours. A person,
+already possessed of a competent fortune, who undertakes
+to enter the career of ambition feels many real
+inconveniences from his station, while it procures him
+no real happiness that he was not possessed of before.
+He could eat, drink, and sleep before he became a
+courtier, as well, perhaps better, than when invested with
+his authority.</p>
+
+<p>What real good, then, does an addition to a fortune
+already sufficient procure? Not any. Could the great
+man, by having his fortune increased, increase also his
+appetite, then precedence might be attended with real
+amusement. But, on the contrary, he finds his desire for
+pleasure often lessen as he takes pains to be able to improve
+it; and his capacity of enjoyment diminishes as his
+fortune happens to increase.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, therefore, of regarding the great with envy,
+I generally consider them with some share of compassion.
+I look upon them as a set of good-natured, misguided
+people, who are indebted to us, and not to themselves,
+for all the happiness they enjoy. For our pleasure,
+and not their own, they sweat under a cumbrous
+heap of finery; for our pleasure, the hackneyed train, the
+slow-parading pageant, with all the gravity of grandeur,
+moves in review; a single coat, or a single footman,
+answers all the purposes of the most indolent refinement
+as well; and those who have twenty may be said to keep
+one for their own pleasure, and the other nineteen for
+ours. So true is the observation of Confucius, "That
+we take greater pains to persuade others that we are
+happy than in endeavouring to think so ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>But though this desire of being seen, of being made
+the subject of discourse, and of supporting the dignities
+of an exalted station, be troublesome to the ambitious,
+yet it is well that there are men thus willing to exchange
+ease and safety for danger and a ribbon. We lose nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span>
+by their vanity, and it would be unkind to endeavour
+to deprive a child of its rattle.... Adieu.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Folly of the Recluse</i><br />
+
+<span class="subhead">FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO HINGPO, HIS SON</span></h4>
+
+<p>Books, my son, while they teach us to respect the interests
+of others, often make us unmindful of our own;
+while they instruct the youthful reader to grasp at social
+happiness, he grows miserable in detail. I dislike, therefore,
+the philosopher, who describes the inconveniences
+of life in such pleasing colours that the pupil grows
+enamoured of distress, longs to try the charms of poverty,
+meets it without dread, nor fears its inconveniences
+till he severely feels them.</p>
+
+<p>A youth who has thus spent his life among books, new
+to the world, and unacquainted with man but by philosophic
+information, may be considered as a being whose
+mind is filled with the vulgar errors of the wise. He
+first has learned from books, and then lays it down as a
+maxim that all mankind are virtuous or vicious in excess;
+warm, therefore, in attachments, and steadfast in enmity,
+he treats every creature as a friend or foe. Upon a
+closer inspection of human nature he perceives that he
+should have moderated his friendship, and softened his
+severity; he finds no character so sanctified that has not
+its failings, none so infamous but has somewhat to
+attract our esteem; he beholds impiety in lawn, and fidelity
+in fetters.</p>
+
+<p>He now, therefore, but too late, perceives that his
+regards should have been more cool, and his hatred less
+violent; that the truly wise seldom court romantic friendships
+with the good, and avoid, if possible, the resentment
+even of the wicked; every movement gives him
+fresh instances that the bonds of friendship are broken
+if drawn too closely, and that those whom he has treated
+with disrespect more than retaliate the injury; at length,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span>
+therefore, he is obliged to confess that he has declared
+war upon the vicious half of mankind, without being
+able to form an alliance among the virtuous to espouse
+his quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>Our book-taught philosopher, however, is now too far
+advanced to recede; and though poverty be the just consequence
+of the many enemies his conduct has created,
+yet he is resolved to meet it without shrinking. "Come,
+then, O Poverty! for what is there in thee dreadful to
+the Wise? Temperance, Health, and Frugality walk in
+thy train; Cheerfulness and Liberty are ever thy companions.
+Come, then, O Poverty, while kings stand by, and
+gaze with admiration at the true philosopher's resignation!"</p>
+
+<p>The goddess appears, for Poverty ever comes at the
+call; but, alas! he finds her by no means the charming
+figure books and his warm imagination had painted. All
+the fabric of enthusiasm is at once demolished, and a
+thousand miseries rise upon its ruins, while Contempt,
+with pointing finger, is foremost in the hideous procession.</p>
+
+<p>The poor man now finds that he can get no kings to
+look at him while he is eating; he finds that, in proportion
+as he grows poor, the world turns its back upon him,
+and gives him leave to act the philosopher in all the
+majesty of solitude. Spleen now begins to take up the
+man; not distinguishing in his resentments, he regards all
+mankind with detestation, and commencing man-hater,
+seeks solitude to be at liberty to rail.</p>
+
+<p>It has been said that he who retires to solitude is
+either a beast or an angel. The censure is too severe,
+and the praise unmerited; the discontented being who
+retires from society is generally some good-natured man,
+who has begun life without experience, and knew not
+how to gain it in his intercourse with mankind. Adieu.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>On Mad Dogs</i><br />
+
+<span class="subhead">FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM</span></h4>
+
+<p>Indulgent Nature seems to have exempted this island
+from many of those epidemic evils which are so fatal in
+other parts of the world. But though the nation be
+exempt from real evils, think not, my friend, that it is
+more happy on this account than others. They are
+afflicted, it is true, with neither famine nor pestilence,
+but then there is a disorder peculiar to the country, which
+every season makes strange ravages among them; it
+spreads with pestilential rapidity, and infects almost
+every rank of people; what is still more strange, the
+natives have no name for this peculiar malady, though
+well enough known to foreign physicians by the name of
+epidemic terror.</p>
+
+<p>A season is never known to pass in which the people
+are not visited by this cruel calamity in one shape or
+another, seemingly different, though ever the same. The
+people, when once infected, lose their relish for happiness,
+saunter about with looks of despondence, ask after
+the calamities of the day, and receive no comfort but in
+heightening each other's distress. A dread of mad dogs
+is the epidemic terror which now prevails, and the whole
+nation is at present actually groaning under the malignity
+of its influence.</p>
+
+<p>It is pleasant enough for a neutral being like me, who
+have no share in these ideal calamities, to mark the
+stages of this national disease. The terror at first feebly
+enters with a little dog that had gone through a neighbouring
+village, that was thought to be mad by several
+who had seen him. The next account comes that a mastiff
+ran through a certain town, and had bit five geese,
+which immediately ran mad, foamed at the bill, and died
+in great agonies soon after. Then comes an affecting
+history of a little boy bit in the leg, and gone down to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span>
+dipped in the salt water; when the people have sufficiently
+shuddered at that, they are next congealed with a
+frightful account of a man who was said lately to have
+died from a bite he had received some years before.</p>
+
+<p>My landlady, a good-natured woman, but a little credulous,
+waked me some mornings ago, before the usual
+hour, with horror and astonishment in her looks; she
+desired me, if I had any regard for my safety, to keep
+within, for a few days ago so dismal an accident had
+happened as to put all the world upon their guard. A
+mad dog down in the country, she assured me, had bit a
+farmer who, soon becoming mad, ran into his own yard,
+and bit a fine brindled cow; the cow quickly became as
+mad as the man, began to foam at the mouth, and raising
+herself up, walked about on her hind legs, sometimes
+barking like a dog, and sometimes attempting to talk like
+the farmer.</p>
+
+<p>Were most stories of this nature thoroughly examined,
+it would be found that numbers of such as have been
+said to suffer were in no way injured; and that of those
+who have been actually bitten, not one in a hundred was
+bit by a mad dog. Such accounts in general, therefore,
+only serve to make the people miserable by false terrors.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the beasts that graze the lawn or hunt the forest,
+a dog is the only animal that, leaving his fellows,
+attempts to cultivate the friendship of man; no injuries
+can abate his fidelity; no distress induce him to forsake
+his benefactor; studious to please and fearing to offend,
+he is still an humble, steadfast dependent, and in him
+alone fawning is not flattery. How unkind, then, to
+torture this faithful creature who has left the forest to
+claim the protection of man! How ungrateful a return
+to the trusty animal for all his services! Adieu.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>On Elections</i><br />
+
+<span class="subhead">FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM</span></h4>
+
+<p>The English are at present employed in celebrating a
+feast, which becomes general every seventh year: the
+parliament of the nation being then dissolved, and another
+appointed to be chosen. This solemnity falls infinitely
+short of our Feast of the Lanterns in magnificence and
+splendour; it is also surpassed by others of the East in
+unanimity and pure devotion; but no festival in the world
+can compare with it for eating.</p>
+
+<p>To say the truth, eating seems to make a grand ingredient
+in all English parties of zeal, business, or amusement.
+When a church is to be built, or an hospital endowed,
+the directors assemble, and instead of consulting upon it,
+they eat upon it, by which means the business goes forward
+with success. When the poor are to be relieved,
+the officers appointed to dole out public charity assemble
+and eat upon it. Nor has it ever been known that they
+filled the bellies of the poor till they had satisfied their
+own. But in the election of magistrates the people seem
+to exceed all bounds.</p>
+
+<p>What amazes me is that all this good living no way
+contributes to improve their good humour. On the contrary,
+they seem to lose their temper as they lose their
+appetites; every morsel they swallow, and every glass
+they pour down, serves to increase their animosity.
+Upon one of these occasions I have actually seen a
+bloody-minded man-milliner sally forth at the head of a
+mob, to face a desperate pastrycook, who was general of
+the opposite party.</p>
+
+<p>I lately made an excursion to a neighbouring village,
+in order to be a spectator of the ceremonies practised.
+Mixing with the crowd, I was conducted to the hall
+where the magistrates are chosen; but what tongue can
+describe this scene of confusion! The whole crowd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span>
+seemed equally inspired with anger, jealousy, politics,
+patriotism, and punch. I remarked one figure that was
+carried up by two men upon this occasion. I at first
+began to pity his infirmities as natural, but soon found
+the fellow so drunk that he could not stand; another
+made his appearance to give his vote, but though he could
+stand, he actually lost the use of his tongue, and remained
+silent; a third, who, though excessively drunk, could both
+stand and speak, being asked the candidate's name for
+whom he voted, could be prevailed upon to make no
+other answer but "Tobacco and brandy!" In short, an
+election-hall seems to be a theatre, where every passion
+is seen without disguise; a school where fools may readily
+become worse, and where philosophers may gather wisdom.
+Adieu.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Opinions and Anecdotes</i></h4>
+
+<p>The most ignorant nations have always been found to
+think most highly of themselves.</p>
+
+<p>It may sound fine in the mouth of a declaimer, when
+he talks of subduing our appetites, of teaching every
+sense to be content with a bare sufficiency, and of supplying
+only the wants of nature; but is there not more satisfaction
+in indulging these appetites, if with innocence and
+safety, than in restraining them? Am I not better pleased
+in enjoyment, than in the sullen satisfaction of thinking
+that I can live without enjoyment?</p>
+
+<p>When five brethren had set upon the great Emperor
+Guisong, alone with his sabre he slew four of them;
+he was struggling with the fifth, when his guards, coming
+up, were going to cut the conspirator into a thousand
+pieces. "No, no!" cried the emperor, with a placid
+countenance. "Of all his brothers he is the only one
+remaining; at least let one of the family be suffered to
+live, that his aged parents may have somebody left to
+feed and comfort them."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span>
+It was a fine saying of Nangfu the emperor, who,
+being told that his enemies had raised an insurrection in
+one of the distant provinces, said: "Come, then, my
+friends, follow me, and I promise you that we shall
+quickly destroy them." He marched forward, and the
+rebels submitted upon his approach. All now thought
+that he would take the most signal revenge, but were
+surprised to see the captives treated with mildness and
+humanity. "How!" cries his first minister, "is this the
+manner in which you fulfil your promise? Your royal
+word was given that your enemies should be destroyed,
+and behold, you have pardoned all, and even caressed
+some!" "I promised," replied the emperor, with a generous
+air, "to destroy my <em>enemies</em>; I have fulfilled my
+word, for see, they are enemies no longer; I have made
+<em>friends</em> of them."</p>
+
+<p>Well it were if rewards and mercy alone could regulate
+the commonwealth; but since punishments are sometimes
+necessary, let them at least be rendered terrible, by
+being executed but seldom; and let justice lift her sword
+rather to terrify than revenge.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_158"><a name="HENRY_HALLAM" id="HENRY_HALLAM">HENRY HALLAM</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Introduction to the Literature of Europe</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>The full volume of this work, "Introduction to the Literature
+of Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries,"
+was published about 1837, and is a vast accumulation of
+facts, but is lacking in organic unity, in vigour, and vitality.
+Hallam's spelling of proper names has been followed throughout
+this epitome. (Henry Hallam, biography; see Vol. XI, p. 255.)</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Before the Fifteenth Century</i></h4>
+
+<p>The establishment of the barbarian nations on the
+ruins of the Roman Empire in the West was followed
+by an almost universal loss of classical learning. The
+last of the ancients, and one who forms a link with the
+Middle Ages, is Boëthius, whose "Consolation of
+Philosophy" mingles a Christian sanctity with the lessons
+of Greek and Roman sages. But after his death,
+in 524, the downfall of learning and eloquence was inconceivably
+rapid, and a state of general ignorance, except
+here and there within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, lasted
+for five centuries.</p>
+
+<p>The British islands led the way in the slow restoration
+of knowledge. The Irish monasteries, in the seventh
+century, were the first to send out men of comparative
+eminence, and the Venerable Bede, in the eighth century,
+was probably superior to any other man whom the world
+at that time possessed. Then came the days when
+Charlemagne laid in his vast dominions the foundations
+of learning.</p>
+
+<p>In the tenth century, when England and Italy alike
+were in the most deplorable darkness, France enjoyed an
+age of illumination, and a generation or two later we
+find many learned and virtuous churchmen in Germany.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>
+But it is not until the twelfth century that we enter on
+a new epoch in European literary history, when universities
+were founded, modern languages were cultivated,
+the study of Roman law was systematically taken up,
+and a return was made to a purer Latinity.</p>
+
+<p>Next, we observe the rise of the scholastic theology
+and philosophy, with their strenuous attempt at an alliance
+between faith and reason. The dry and technical style
+of these enquiries, their minute subdivisions of questions,
+and their imposing parade of accuracy, served indeed to
+stimulate subtlety of mind, but also hindered the revival
+of polite literature and the free expansion of the intellect.</p>
+
+<p>Dante and Petrarch are the morning stars of the modern
+age. They lie outside our period, and we must pass
+them over with a word. It is sufficient to notice that,
+largely by their influence, we find, in the year 1400, a
+national literature existing in no less than seven European
+languages&mdash;three in the Spanish peninsula, the
+French, the Italian, the German, and the English.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Fifteenth Century</i></h4>
+
+<p>We now come to a very important event&mdash;the resuscitation
+of the study of Greek in Italy. In 1423, Giovanni
+Aurispa, of Sicily, brought over two hundred manuscripts
+from Greece, including Plato, Plotinus, Diodorus, Pindar,
+and many other classics. Manuel Chrysoloras, teacher of
+Greek in Florence, had trained a school of Hellenists;
+and copyists, translators, and commentators set to work
+upon the masterpieces of the ancient world. We have
+good reason to doubt whether, without the Italians of
+those times, the revival of classical learning would ever
+have occurred. The movement was powerfully aided
+by Nicolas V., pope in 1447, who founded the Vatican
+library, supported scholars, and encouraged authors.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after 1450, the art of printing began to be applied
+to the purposes of useful learning, and Bibles, classical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span>
+texts, collections of fables; and other works were rapidly
+given to the world. The accession to power of Lorenzo
+de Medici in 1464 marks the revival of native Italian
+genius in poetry, and under his influence the Platonic
+academy, founded by his grandfather Cosmo, promoted a
+variety of studies. But we still look in vain to England
+for either learning or native genius. The reign of Edward
+IV. is one of the lowest points in our literary annals.</p>
+
+<p>In France, the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," 1486, and
+the poems of Villon, 1489, show a marked advance in
+style. Many French "mysteries," or religious dramas,
+belong to this period, and this early form of the dramatic
+art had also much popularity in Germany and in Italy.
+Literary activity, in France and in Germany, had become
+regularly progressive by the end of the century.</p>
+
+<p>Two men, Erasmus and Budæus, were now devoting
+incessant labour, in Paris, to the study of Greek; and a
+gleam of light broke out even in England, where William
+Grocyn began, in 1491, to teach that language in Oxford.
+On his visit to England, in 1497, Erasmus was delighted
+with everything he found, and gave unbounded praise to
+the scholarship of Grocyn, Colet, Linacre, and the young
+Thomas More.</p>
+
+<p>The fifteenth century was a period of awakening and
+of strenuous effort. But if we ask what monuments of
+its genius and erudition still receive homage, we can give
+no very triumphant answer. Of the books then written,
+how few are read now!</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Sixteenth Century (1500&ndash;1550)</i></h4>
+
+<p>In the early years of this century the press of Aldus
+Manutius, who had settled in Venice in 1489, was publishing
+many texts of the classics, Greek as well as Latin.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this time that the regular drama was first
+introduced into Europe. "Calandra," the earliest modern
+comedy, was presented at Venice in 1508, and about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span>
+same time the Spanish tragi-comedy of "Calisto and
+Melibœa" was printed. The pastoral romance, also,
+made its appearance in Portugal; and the "Arcadia,"
+1502, by the Italian Sannazaro, a work of this class, did
+much to restore the correctness and elegance of Italian
+prose. Peter Bembo's "Asolani," 1505, a dialogue on
+love, has also been thought to mark an epoch in Italian
+literature. At the same time, William Dunbar, with his
+"Thistle and Rose," 1503, and his allegorical "Golden
+Targe," was leading the van of British poetry.</p>
+
+<p>The records of voyages of discovery begin to take a
+prominent place. The old travels of Marco Polo, as well
+as those of Sir John Mandeville, and the "Cosmography"
+of Ptolemy, had been printed in the previous century;
+but the stupendous discoveries of the close of that age
+now fell to be told. The voyages of Cadamosto, a Venetian,
+in Western Africa, appeared in 1507; and those of
+Amerigo Vespucci, entitled "Mondo Nuovo," in the same
+year. An epistle of Columbus himself had been printed
+in Germany about 1493.</p>
+
+<p>Leo X., who became pope in 1513, placed men of letters
+in the most honourable stations of his court, and was
+the munificent patron of poets, scholars, and printers.
+Rucellai's "Rosmunda," a tragedy played before Leo in
+1515, was the earliest known trial of blank verse. The
+"Sophonisba" of Trissino, published in 1524, a play
+written strictly on the Greek model, had been acted some
+years before. Two comedies by Ariosto were presented
+about 1512.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the printing press became very active in
+Paris, Basle, and Germany, chiefly in preparing works
+for the use of students in universities. But in respect of
+learning, we have the testimony of Erasmus that neither
+France, nor Germany, stood so high as England. In
+Scotland, boys were being taught Latin in school; and
+the translation of the Æneid by Gawin Douglas, completed
+about 1513, shows, by its spirit and fidelity, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span>
+degree of scholarship in the north. The only work of
+real genius which England can claim in this age is the
+"Utopia" of Sir Thomas More, first printed in 1516.</p>
+
+<p>Erasmus diffuses a lustre over his age, which no other
+name among the learned supplies. About 1517, he published
+an enlarged edition of his "Adages," which displays
+a surprising intimacy with Greek and Roman literature.
+The most remarkable of them, in every sense, are
+those which reflect with excessive bitterness on kings
+and priests. Erasmus knew that the regular clergy were
+not to be conciliated, and resolved to throw away the
+scabbard; and his invectives against kings proceeded
+from a just sense of the oppression of Europe in that
+age by ambitious and selfish rulers.</p>
+
+<p>We are now brought by necessary steps to the great
+religious revolution known as the Reformation, with
+which we are only concerned in so far as it modified
+the history of literature. In all his dispute, Luther was
+sustained by a prodigious force of popular opinion; and
+the German nation was so fully awakened to the abuses
+of the Church that, if neither Luther nor Zwingli had
+ever been born, a great religious schism was still at hand.
+Erasmus, who had so manifestly prepared the way for
+the new reformers, continued, beyond the year 1520,
+favourable to their cause. But some of Luther's tenets
+he did not and could not approve; and he was already
+disgusted by that intemperance of language which soon
+led him to secede entirely from the Protestant side.</p>
+
+<p>The laws of synchronism bring strange partners
+together, and we may pass at once from Luther to
+Ariosto, whose "Orlando Furioso" was printed at
+Ferrara in 1516. Ariosto has been, after Homer, the
+favourite poet of Europe. His grace and facility, his
+clear and rapid stream of language, his variety of invention,
+left him no rival.</p>
+
+<p>No edition of "Amadis de Gaul" has been proved to
+exist before that printed at Seville in 1519. This famous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>
+romance was translated into French between 1540 and
+1557, and into English by Munday in 1619.</p>
+
+<p>A curious dramatic performance was represented in
+Paris in 1511, and published in 1516. It is entitled
+"Le Prince des Sots et la Mère sotte," by Peter Gringore;
+its chief aim was to ridicule the Pope and the
+court of Rome. Hans Sachs, a shoemaker of Nuremberg,
+produced his first carnival play in 1517. The English
+poets Hawes and Skelton fall within this period.</p>
+
+<p>From 1520 to 1550, Italy, where the literature of
+antiquity had been first cultivated, still retained her superiority
+in the fine perception of its beauties, but the study
+was proceeding also elsewhere in Europe. Few books of
+that age give us more insight into its literary history and
+the public taste than the "Circeronianus" of Erasmus,
+against which Scaliger wrote with unmannerly invective.
+The same period of thirty years is rich with poets, among
+whom are the Spanish Mendoza, the Portuguese Ribero,
+Marot in France, many hymn-writers in Germany; and
+in England, Wyatt and Surrey. At this time also, Spain
+was forming its national theatre, chiefly under the influence
+of Lope de Rueda and of Torres Naharro, the
+inventor of Spanish comedy. The most celebrated writer
+of fiction in this age is Rabelais, than whom few have
+greater fertility of language and imagination.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;The Sixteenth Century (1550&ndash;1600)</i></h4>
+
+<p>Montaigne's "Essays," which first appeared at Bordeaux
+in 1580, make an epoch in literature, being the
+first appeal from the academy to the haunts of busy and
+idle men; and this delightful writer had a vast influence
+on English and French literature in the succeeding age.</p>
+
+<p>Turning now to the Italian poets of our period, we
+find that most of them are feeble copyists of Petrarch,
+whose style Bembo had rendered so popular. Casa, Costanzo,
+Baldi, Celio Magno, Bernardino Rota, Gaspara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span>
+Stampa, Bernado Tasso, father of the great Tasso, Peter
+Aretin, and Firenzuola, flourished at this time. The
+"Jerusalem" of Torquato Tasso is the great epic of
+modern times; it is read with pleasure in almost every
+canto, though the native melancholy of Tasso tinges all
+his poem. It was no sooner published than it was
+weighed against the "Orlando Furioso," and Europe has
+not yet agreed which scale inclines.</p>
+
+<p>Spanish poetry is adorned by Luis Ponce de Leon,
+born in 1527, a religious and mystical lyric poet. The
+odes of Herrera have a lyric elevation and richness of
+phrase, derived from the study of Pindar and of the
+Old Testament. Castillejo, playful and witty, attempted
+to revive the popular poetry, and ridiculed the imitators
+of Petrarch.</p>
+
+<p>The great Camoens had now arisen in Portugal; his
+"Lusiad," written in praise of the Lusitanian people, is
+the mirror of his loving, courageous, generous, and patriotic
+heart. Camoens is the chief Portuguese poet in this
+age, and possibly in every other.</p>
+
+<p>This was an age of verse in France. Pierre Ronsard,
+Amadis Jamyn his pupil, Du Bartas, Pibrac, Desportes,
+and many others, were gradually establishing the rules of
+metre, and the Alexandrine was displacing the old verse
+of ten syllables.</p>
+
+<p>Of German poetry there is little to say; but England
+had Lord Vaux's short pieces in "The Paradise of
+Dainty Devices"; Sackville, with his "Induction" to the
+"Mirrour of Magistrates," 1559; George Gascoyne,
+whose "Steel Glass," 1576, is the earliest English satire;
+and, above all, Spenser, whose "Shepherd's Kalendar"
+appeared in 1579. This work was far more natural and
+more pleasing than the other pastorals of the age.
+Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," and his "Rape of
+Lucrece," were published in 1593&ndash;94. Sir Philip Sidney,
+Raleigh, Lodge, Breton, Marlowe, Green, Watson, Davison,
+Daniel, and Michael Drayton were now writing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span>
+poems, and Drake has a list of more than two hundred
+English poets of this time.</p>
+
+<p>The great work of the period is, however, the "Faëry
+Queen," the first three books of which were published in
+1590, and the last three in 1596. Spenser excels Ariosto
+in originality, force, and variety of character, and in
+depth of reflection, but especially in the poetical cast of
+feeling.</p>
+
+<p>Of dramatic literature, between 1550 and 1600, we have
+many Italian plays by Groto, Decio da Orto, and Tasso.
+The pastoral drama originating with Agostino Beccari
+in 1554, reached its highest perfection in Tasso's "Aminta,"
+which was followed by Guarini's "Pastor Fido."</p>
+
+<p>Lope de Vega is the great Spanish dramatist of this
+time. His astonishing facility produced over two thousand
+original dramas, of which three hundred have been
+preserved. Jodelle, the father of the French theatre,
+presented his "Cléopatre" in 1552. In 1598 the foundations
+were laid of the Comédie Française.</p>
+
+<p>In England, Sackville led the way with his tragedy of
+"Gorboduc," played at Whitehall before Elizabeth in
+1562. In 1576, the first public theatre was erected in
+Blackfriars. Several young men of talent appeared,
+Marlowe, Peele, Greene, Kyd, and Nash, as the precursors
+of Shakespeare; and in 1587, being then twenty-three
+years old, the greatest of dramatists settled in
+London, and several of his plays had been acted before
+the close of the century.</p>
+
+<p>Among English prose writings of this time may be
+mentioned Ascham's "Schoolmaster," 1570, Puttenham's
+"Art of English Poesie," 1586, and, as a curiosity of
+affectation, Lilly's "Euphues." But the first good prose-writer
+is Sir Philip Sidney, whose "Arcadia" appeared
+in 1590; and the finest master of prose in the Elizabethan
+period is Hooker. The first book of the "Ecclesiastical
+Polity" is one of the masterpieces of English
+eloquence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;The Seventeenth Century (1600&ndash;1650)</i></h4>
+
+<p>The two great figures in philosophy of this period are
+Bacon and Descartes. At its beginning the higher
+philosophy had been little benefited by the labours of
+any modern enquirer. It was become, indeed, no strange
+thing to question the authority of Aristotle, but his disciples
+could point with scorn at the endeavours made to
+supplant it.</p>
+
+<p>In the great field of natural jurisprudence, the most
+eminent name in this period is that of Hugo Grotius,
+whose famous work "De Jure Belli et Pacis" was published
+in Paris in 1625. This treatise made an epoch in
+the philosophical, and, we might almost say, in the political
+history of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>In the history of poetry, between 1600 and 1650, we
+have the Italians Marini, Tassoni, and Chiabrera, the
+last being the founder of a school of lyric poetry known
+as "Pindaric." Among Spanish poets are Villegas and
+Gongora; in France, Malherbe, Regnier, Racan, Maynard,
+Voiture, and Sarrazin; Opitz, in Germany, was
+the founder of German poetic literature; and this, the
+golden age of Dutch literature, included the poets
+Spiegel, Hooft, Cats, and Vondel. The English poets
+of these fifty years are very numerous, but for the most
+part not well known. Spenser was imitated by Phineas
+and Giles Fletcher. Sir John Denham, Donne, Crashaw,
+Cowley, Daniel, Michael Drayton, William Browne, and
+Sir William Davenant wrote at this time, to which also
+belong the sonnets of Shakespeare. Drummond of Hawthornden,
+Carew, Ben Jonson, Wither, Habington, Suckling,
+and Herrick, were all in the first half of the seventeenth
+century. John Milton was born in 1609, and in
+1634 wrote "Comus," which was published in 1637;
+"Lycidas," the "Allegro" and "Penseroso," the "Ode
+on the Nativity," and Milton's sonnets followed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span>
+The Italian drama was weak at this period, but in
+Spain Lope de Vega and Calderon were at the height of
+their glory. In France, Corneille's "Mélite," his first
+play, was produced in 1629, and was followed by
+"Clitandre," "La Veuve," "Medea," "Cid," and others.
+The English drama was exceedingly popular, and the
+reigns of James and Charles were the glory of our
+theatre. Shakespeare&mdash;the greatest name in all literature&mdash;Ben
+Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger,
+Shirley, Heywood, Webster, and many other dramatists
+contributed to its fame.</p>
+
+<p>In prose writings, Italian and Spanish works of this
+time show a great decline in taste; but in France, the
+letters of the moralist Balzac and of Voiture, from 1625,
+have ingenuity and sprightliness. English prose writings
+of the period include the works of Knolles, Raleigh,
+Daniel, Bacon, Milton, Clarendon; Burton's "Anatomy
+of Melancholy," Earle's "Microcosmographia" and
+Overbury's "Characters."</p>
+
+<p>Fiction was represented by "Don Quixote," of which
+the first part was published in 1605&mdash;almost the only
+Spanish book which is popularly read in every country;
+by the French heroic romance, and by the English
+Godwin's "Man in the Moon."</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;The Seventeenth Century (1650&ndash;1700)</i></h4>
+
+<p>Among the greatest writers of this period are Bossuet
+and Pascal, in theology; Gassendi, Malebranche, Spinoza,
+and Locke, in philosophy; and Cumberland, Puffendorf,
+La Rochefoucauld, and La Bruyère, in morals. Leibnitz
+wrote on jurisprudence before he passed on to philosophy,
+and the same subject was treated also by Godefroy,
+Domat, and Noodt.</p>
+
+<p>Italian poetry had now improved in tone. Filicaja, a
+man of serious and noble spirit, wrote odes of deep patriotic
+and religious feeling. Guidi, a native of Pavia,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>
+raised himself to the highest point that any lyric poet of
+Italy has attained. Spain and Portugal were destitute of
+poets; but in France La Fontaine, Boileau, Benserade,
+Chaulieu, Segrais, Deshoulières, and Fontenelle, were
+famous. In England at this time there were Waller,
+Milton, Butler, and Dryden, as well as Marvell and other
+minor poets.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Italy nor Spain was now producing dramatic
+works of any importance, but it was very different in
+France. Corneille continued to write for the stage, and
+Racine's first play, the "Andromaque," was presented in
+1667. This was followed by "Britannicus," "Bérénice,"
+"Mithridate," "Iphigénie," and others. Racine's style is
+exquisite; he is second only to Virgil among all poets.
+Molière, the French writer whom his country has most
+uniformly admired, began with "L'Étourdi" in 1653, and
+his pieces followed rapidly until his death, in 1673. The
+English Restoration stage was held by Dryden, Otway,
+Southern, Lee, Congreve, Wycherley, Farquhar, and
+Vanbrugh.</p>
+
+<p>In prose literature Italy is deficient; but this period
+includes the most distinguished portion of the great age
+in France, the reign of Louis XIV. Bossuet, Malebranche,
+Arnauld, and Pascal are among the greatest of
+French writers.</p>
+
+<p>English writing now became easier and more idiomatic,
+sometimes even to the point of vulgarity. The best masters
+of prose were Cowley, Evelyn, Dryden, and Walton
+in the "Complete Angler."</p>
+
+<p>Among novels of the period may be named those of
+Quevedo in Spain; of Scarron, Bergerac, Perrault, and
+Hamilton, in France; and the "Pilgrim's Progress"&mdash;for
+John Bunyan may pass for the father of our novelists&mdash;in
+England. Swift's "Tale of a Tub," than which
+Rabelais has nothing superior, was indeed not published
+till 1704, but was written within the seventeenth century.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_169"><a name="WILLIAM_HAZLITT" id="WILLIAM_HAZLITT">WILLIAM HAZLITT</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Lectures on the English Poets</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>William Hazlitt, critic and essayist, was born on April 10,
+1778, and was educated in London for the Unitarian ministry.
+But his talents for painting and for writing diverted him from
+that career, and soon, though he showed great promise as a
+painter, he devoted himself to authorship, contributing largely
+to the "Morning Chronicle," the "Examiner," and the "Edinburgh
+Review." His wide, genial interests, his ardent temperament,
+and his admirable style, have given Hazlitt a high place
+among English critics. He is no pedant or bookworm; he is
+always human, always a man of the world. His "Characters
+of Shakespeare's Plays," 1817, gave him a reputation which was
+confirmed by his "Lectures on the English Poets," delivered
+next year at the Surrey Institute. Further lectures, on the English
+comic writers and on the Elizabethan dramatists, followed.
+His essays, on all kinds of subjects, are collected in volumes
+under various titles. All are the best of reading. Hazlitt's later
+works include "Liber Amoris," 1823; "Spirit of the Age," 1825,
+consisting of character studies; and the "Life of Napoleon"
+(Hazlitt's hero), 1828&ndash;30. The essayist was twice married, and
+died on September 18, 1830.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>What Is Poetry?</i></h4>
+
+<p>The best general notion which I can give of poetry is
+that it is the natural impression of any object or event
+by its vividness exciting an involuntary movement of
+imagination and passion, and producing, by sympathy, a
+certain modulation of the voice or sounds expressing it.
+Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds
+with Nature and itself. He who has a contempt for
+poetry cannot have much respect for himself or for
+anything else. It is not a mere frivolous accomplishment;
+it has been the study and delight of mankind in
+all ages.</p>
+
+<p>Nor is it found only in books; wherever there is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span>
+sense of beauty, or power, or harmony, as in a wave of
+the sea, or in the growth of a flower, there is poetry in its
+birth. It is not a branch of authorship; it is the "stuff
+of which our life is made." The rest is "mere oblivion,"
+for all that is worth remembering in life is the poetry
+of it. If poetry is a dream, the business of life is much
+the same. If it is a fiction, made up of what we wish
+things to be, and fancy that they are because we wish
+them so, there is no other or better reality.</p>
+
+<p>The light of poetry is not only a direct, but also a
+reflected light, that, while it shows us the object, throws
+a sparkling radiance on all around it; the flame of the
+passions communicated to the imagination reveals to
+us, as with a flash of lightning, the inmost recesses of
+thought, and penetrates our whole being. Poetry represents
+forms chiefly as they suggest other forms; feelings,
+as they suggest forms, or other feelings. Poetry puts a
+spirit of life and motion into the universe. It describes
+the flowing, not the fixed. The poetical impression of
+any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or
+power that cannot be contained within itself, that is impatient
+of all limit; that&mdash;as flame bends to flame&mdash;strives
+to link itself to some other image of kindred beauty or
+grandeur, to enshrine itself, as it were, in the highest
+forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense of pleasure
+by expressing it in the boldest manner, and by the
+most striking examples of the same quality in other
+instances.</p>
+
+<p>As in describing natural objects poetry impregnates
+sensible impressions with the forms of fancy, so it
+describes the feelings of pleasure or pain by blending
+them with the strongest movements of passion and the
+most striking forms of Nature. Tragic poetry, which is
+the most impassioned species of it, strives to carry on
+the feeling to the utmost point of sublimity or pathos
+by all the force of comparison or contrast, loses the sense
+of present suffering in the imaginary exaggeration of it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span>
+exhausts the terror or pity by an unlimited indulgence
+of it, and lifts us from the depths of woe to the highest
+contemplations of human life.</p>
+
+<p>The use and end of poetry, "both at the first and now,
+was and is to hold the mirror up to Nature," seen
+through the medium of passion and imagination, not
+divested of that medium by means of literal truth or
+abstract reason. Those who would dispel the illusions of
+imagination, to give us their drab-coloured creation in
+their stead, are not very wise. It cannot be concealed,
+however, that the progress of knowledge and refinement
+has a tendency to clip the wings of poetry. The province
+of the imagination is principally visionary, the unknown
+and undefined; we can only fancy what we do not know.
+There can never be another Jacob's dream. Since that
+time the heavens have gone farther off, and grown astronomical.</p>
+
+<p>Poetry combines the ordinary use of language with
+musical expression. As there are certain sounds that
+excite certain movements, and the song and dance go
+together, so there are, no doubt, certain thoughts that
+lead to certain tones of voice, or modulations of sound.
+The jerks, the breaks, the inequalities and harshnesses of
+prose are fatal to the flow of a poetical imagination, as
+a jolting road disturbs the reverie of an absent-minded
+man. But poetry makes these odds all even. The musical
+in sound is the sustained and continuous; the musical
+in thought is the sustained and continuous also. An
+excuse may be made for rhyme in the same manner.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Chaucer and Spenser</i></h4>
+
+<p>These are two out of the four greatest English poets;
+but they were both much indebted to the early poets of
+Italy, and may be considered as belonging, in some
+degree, to that school. Spenser delighted in luxurious
+enjoyment; Chaucer in severe activity of mind. Spenser<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span>
+was the most romantic and visionary of all great poets;
+Chaucer the most practical, the most a man of business
+and the world.</p>
+
+<p>Chaucer does not affect to show his power over the
+reader's mind, but the power which his subject has over
+his own. The readers of Chaucer's poetry feel more
+nearly what the persons he describes must have felt, than
+perhaps those of any other poet. There is no artificial,
+pompous display; but a strict parsimony of the poet's
+materials, like the rude simplicity of the age in which
+he lived. His words point as an index to the objects,
+like the eye or finger. There were none of the commonplaces
+of poetic diction in his time, no reflected lights of
+fancy, no borrowed roseate tints; he was obliged to
+inspect things narrowly for himself, so that his descriptions
+produce the effect of sculpture.</p>
+
+<p>His descriptions of natural scenery possess a characteristic
+excellence which may be termed gusto. They
+have a local truth and freshness which give the very
+feeling of the air, the coolness or moisture of the ground.
+Inanimate objects are thus made to have a fellow-feeling
+in the interest of the story, and render the sentiment of
+the speaker's mind.</p>
+
+<p>It was the same trust in Nature and reliance on his
+subject which enabled Chaucer to describe the grief and
+patience of Griselda and the faith of Constance. Chaucer
+has more of this deep, internal, sustained sentiment than
+any other writer, except Boccaccio. In depth of simple
+pathos and intensity of conception, never swerving from
+his subject, I think no other writer comes near him, not
+even the Greek tragedians.</p>
+
+<p>The poetry of Chaucer has a religious sanctity about
+it, connected with the manners and superstitions of the
+age. It has all the spirit of martyrdom. It has also all
+the extravagance and the utmost licentiousness of comic
+humour, equally arising out of the manners of the time.
+He excelled in both styles, and could pass at will from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span>
+the one to the other; but he never confounded the two
+styles together.</p>
+
+<p>Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical. There
+is an originality, richness, and variety in his allegorical
+personages and fictions which almost vie with the splendours
+of the ancient mythology. His poetry is all fairyland;
+he paints Nature not as we find it, but as we
+expected to find it, and fulfils the delightful promise of
+our youth. His ideas, indeed, seem more distinct than
+his perceptions. The love of beauty, however, and not
+of truth, is the moving principle of his mind; and he is
+guided in his fantastic delineations by no rule but the
+impulse of an inexhaustible imagination.</p>
+
+<p>Some people will say that Spenser's poetry may be
+very fine, but that they cannot understand it, on account
+of the allegory. They are afraid of the allegory. This is
+very idle. If they do not meddle with the allegory, the
+allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it
+at all, the whole is as plain as a pikestaff.</p>
+
+<p>Spenser is the poet of our waking dreams, and he has
+invented not only a language, but a music of his own for
+them. The undulations are infinite, like those of the
+waves of the sea; but the effect is still the same, lulling
+the senses into a deep oblivion of the jarring noises of
+the world, from which we have no wish ever to be
+recalled.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Shakespeare and Milton</i></h4>
+
+<p>Those arts which depend on individual genius and
+incommunicable power have always leaped at once from
+infancy to manhood, from the first rude dawn of invention
+to their meridian height and dazzling lustre, and
+have in general declined ever after. Homer, Chaucer,
+Spenser, Shakespeare, Dante, and Ariosto&mdash;Milton alone
+was of a later age, and not the worse for it&mdash;Raphael,
+Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio, Cervantes, and Boccaccio,
+the Greek sculptors and tragedians, all lived near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span>
+the beginning of their arts, perfected, and all but created
+them. They rose by clusters, never so to rise again.</p>
+
+<p>The four greatest names in English poetry are almost
+the four first we come to&mdash;Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare,
+and Milton. There are no others that can really
+be put into competition with these. Of these four,
+Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life;
+Spenser as the poet of romance; Shakespeare as the poet
+of Nature, in the largest use of the term; and Milton as
+the poet of morality. Chaucer describes things as they
+are; Spenser, as we wish them to be; Shakespeare, as
+they would be; and Milton, as they ought to be. The
+characteristic of Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser, remoteness;
+of Milton, elevation; of Shakespeare, everything.</p>
+
+<p>The peculiarity of Shakespeare's mind was its generic
+quality; its power of communication with all other minds,
+so that it contained a universe of thought and feeling
+within itself. He was just like any other man, but
+he was like all other men. He was the least of an egotist
+that it was possible to be. He was nothing in himself;
+but he was all that others were, or that they could become.
+His genius shone equally on the evil and on the good, on
+the wise and the foolish, the monarch and the beggar.
+The world of spirits lay open to him, like the world of
+real men and women; and there is the same truth in his
+delineations of the one as of the other. Each of his
+characters is as much itself, and as absolutely independent
+of the rest, as well as of the author, as if they were
+living persons, not fictions of the mind. His plays alone
+are properly expressions of the passions, not descriptions
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>Chaucer's characters are narrative; Shakespeare's,
+dramatic; Milton's, epic. In Chaucer we perceive a fixed
+essence of character. In Shakespeare there is a continual
+composition and decomposition of its elements, a
+fermentation of every particle in the whole mass, by its
+alternate affinity or antipathy to other principles which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span>
+are brought in contact with it. Milton took only a few
+simple principles of character, and raised them to the
+utmost conceivable grandeur.</p>
+
+<p>The passion in Shakespeare is full of dramatic fluctuation.
+In Chaucer it is like the course of a river&mdash;strong,
+full, and increasing; but in Shakespeare it is like the sea,
+agitated this way and that, and loud-lashed by furious
+storms. Milton, on the other hand, takes only the imaginative
+part of passion, that which remains after the event,
+and abstracts it from the world of action to that of contemplation.</p>
+
+<p>The great fault of a modern school of poetry [the
+Lake poets] is that it would reduce poetry to a mere
+effusion of natural sensibility; or, what is worse, would
+divest it both of imaginary splendour and human passion,
+to surround the meanest objects with the morbid feelings
+and devouring egotism of the writers' own minds. Milton
+and Shakespeare did not so understand poetry. They
+gave a more liberal interpretation both to Nature and art.
+They did not do all they could to get rid of the one and
+the other, to fill up the dreary void with the moods of
+their own minds.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare's imagination is of the same plastic kind
+as his conception of character or passion. Its movement
+is rapid and devious, and unites the most opposite
+extremes. He seems always hurrying from his subject,
+even while describing it; but the stroke, like the lightning's,
+is as sure as it is sudden. His language and versification
+are like the rest of him. He has a magic power
+over words; they come winged at his bidding, and seem
+to know their places. His language is hieroglyphical. It
+translates thoughts into visible images. He had an equal
+genius for comedy and tragedy; and his tragedies are
+better than his comedies, because tragedy is better than
+comedy. His female characters are the finest in the
+world. Lastly, Shakespeare was the least of a coxcomb
+of anyone that ever lived, and much of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span>
+Shakespeare discovers in his writings little religious
+enthusiasm, and an indifference to personal reputation;
+in these respects, as in every other, he formed a direct
+contrast to Milton. Milton's works are a perpetual invocation
+to the muses, a hymn to Fame. He had his
+thoughts constantly fixed on the contemplation of the
+Hebrew theocracy, and of a perfect commonwealth; and
+he seized the pen with a hand warm from the touch of
+the ark of faith. The spirit of the poet, the patriot, and
+the prophet vied with each other in his breast. He
+thought of nobler forms and nobler things than those he
+found about him. He strives hard to say the finest
+things in the world, and he does say them. In Milton
+there is always an appearance of effort; in Shakespeare,
+scarcely any.</p>
+
+<p>Milton has borrowed more than any other writer, and
+exhausted every source of imitation; yet he is perfectly
+distinct from every other writer. The power of his mind
+is stamped on every line. He describes objects of which
+he could only have read in books with the vividness of
+actual observation.</p>
+
+<p>Milton's blank verse is the only blank verse in the language,
+except Shakespeare's, that deserves the name of
+verse. The sound of his lines is moulded into the expression
+of the sentiment, almost of the very image.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Dryden and Pope</i></h4>
+
+<p>These are the great masters of the artificial style of
+poetry, as the four poets of whom I have already treated
+were of the natural, and they have produced a kind and
+degree of excellence which existed equally nowhere else.</p>
+
+<p>Pope was a man of exquisite faculties and of the most
+refined taste; he was a wit and critic, a man of sense,
+of observation, and the world. He was the poet not of
+Nature, but of art. He saw Nature only dressed by art;
+he judged of beauty by fashion; he sought for truth in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span>
+the opinions of the world; he judged of the feelings of
+others by his own. His muse never wandered with safety
+but from his library to his grotto, or from his grotto into
+his library back again. That which was the nearest to
+him was the greatest; the fashion of the day bore sway
+in his mind over the immutable laws of Nature. He had
+none of the enthusiasm of poetry; he was in poetry what
+the sceptic is in religion. Yet within this narrow circle
+how much, and that how exquisite, was contained! The
+wrong end of the magnifier is held to everything, but still
+the exhibition is highly curious. If I had to choose, there
+are one or two persons&mdash;and but one or two&mdash;that I
+should like to have been better than Pope!</p>
+
+<p>Dryden was a bolder and more various versifier than
+Pope; he had greater strength of mind, but he had not
+the same delicacy of feeling. Pope describes the thing,
+and goes on describing his own descriptions, till he loses
+himself in verbal repetitions; Dryden recurs to the object
+often, and gives us new strokes of character as well as of
+his pencil.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Thomson and Cowper</i></h4>
+
+<p>Thomson is the best of our descriptive poets; the
+colours with which he paints still seem wet. Nature in
+his descriptions is seen growing around us, fresh and
+lusty as in itself. He puts his heart into his subject, and
+it is for this reason that he is the most popular of all
+our poets. But his verse is heavy and monotonous; it
+seems always labouring uphill.</p>
+
+<p>Cowper had some advantages over Thomson, particularly
+in simplicity of style, in a certain precision of
+graphical description, and in a more careful choice of
+topics. But there is an effeminacy about him which
+shrinks from and repels common and hearty sympathy.
+He shakes hands with Nature with a pair of fashionable
+gloves on; he is delicate to fastidiousness, and glad to
+get back to the drawing-room and the ladies, the sofa,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span>
+and the tea-urn. He was a nervous man; but to be a
+coward is not the way to succeed either in poetry, in war,
+or in love. Still, he is a genuine poet, and deserves his
+reputation.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Robert Burns</i></h4>
+
+<p>Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his
+genius; but there is something of the same magnanimity,
+directness, and unaffected character about him. He was
+as much of a man, not a twentieth part as much of a
+poet, as Shakespeare. He had an eye to see, a heart to
+feel&mdash;no more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social
+glee, of quaint humour, are equal to anything; they come
+up to Nature, and they cannot go beyond it. His strength
+is not greater than his weakness; his virtues were greater
+than his vices. His virtues belonged to his genius; his
+vices to his situation.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could surpass Burns's love-songs in beauty of
+expression and in true pathos, except some of the old
+Scottish ballads themselves. There is in these a still
+more original cast of thought, a more romantic imagery;
+a closer intimacy with Nature, a more infantine simplicity
+of manners, a greater strength of affection, "thoughts
+that often lie too deep for tears." The old English ballads
+are of a gayer turn. They are adventurous and
+romantic; but they relate chiefly to good living and good
+fellowship, to drinking and hunting scenes.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Some Contemporary Poets</i></h4>
+
+<p>Tom Moore is heedless, gay, and prodigal of his poetical
+wealth. Everything lives, moves, and sparkles in his
+poetry, while, over all, love waves his purple light. His
+levity at last oppresses; his variety cloys, his rapidity
+dazzles and distracts the sight.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Byron's poetry is as morbid as Moore's is careless
+and dissipated. His passion is always of the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span>
+unaccountable character, at once violent and sullen, fierce
+and gloomy. It is the passion of a mind preying upon
+itself, and disgusted with, or indifferent to, all other
+things. There is nothing less poetical or more repulsive.
+But still there is power; and power forces admiration.
+In vigour of style and force of conception he surpasses
+every writer of the present day.</p>
+
+<p>Walter Scott is deservedly the most popular of living
+poets. He differs from his readers only in a greater
+range of knowledge and facility of expression. The
+force of his mind is picturesque rather than moral. He
+is to the great poet what an excellent mimic is to a
+great actor.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wordsworth is the most original poet now living.
+His poetry is not external, but internal; he furnishes it
+from his own mind, and is his own subject. He is the
+poet of mere sentiment. Many of the "Lyrical Ballads"
+are of inconceivable beauty, of perfect originality and
+pathos. But his powers have been mistaken by the age.
+He cannot form a whole. He has not the constructive
+faculty. His "Excursion" is a proof of this; the line
+labours, the sentiment moves slowly, but the poem stands
+stock-still.</p>
+
+<p>The Lake school of poetry had its origin in the French
+Revolution, or rather in the sentiments and opinions
+which produced that event. The world was to be turned
+topsy-turvy, and poetry was to share its fate. The paradox
+they set out with was that all things are by Nature
+equally fit subjects for poetry, or rather, that the meanest
+and most unpromising are best. They aimed at exciting
+attention by reversing the established standards of
+estimation in the world. An adept in this school of
+poetry is jealous of all excellence but his own. He is
+slow to admire anything admirable, feels no interest in
+what is most interesting to others, no grandeur in anything
+grand. He sees nothing but himself and the universe.
+His egotism is, in some respects, a madness. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>
+effect of this has been perceived as something odd; but
+the cause or principle has never been traced to its source
+before. The proofs are to be found throughout many
+of the poems of Mr. Southey, Mr. Coleridge, and
+Mr. Wordsworth.</p>
+
+<p>I may say of Mr. Coleridge that he is the only person
+I ever knew who answered to the idea of a man of genius.
+But his "Ancient Mariner" is the only work that
+gives an adequate idea of his natural powers. In it,
+however, he seems to "conceive of poetry but as a
+drunken dream, reckless, careless, and heedless of past,
+present, and to come."</p>
+
+<p>I have thus gone through my task. I have felt my
+subject sinking from under me as I advanced, and have
+been afraid of ending in nothing. The interest has
+unavoidably decreased at almost every step of the progress,
+like a play that has its catastrophe in the first or
+second act. This, however, I could not help.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_181"><a name="OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES" id="OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES">OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</a></h2>
+
+<h3>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>In 1857 Oliver Wendell Holmes (see Vol. V, p. 87) leapt into
+fame by his "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" papers in the
+"Atlantic Monthly," then edited by Lowell. His "Professor"
+and "Poet" series of papers followed, with hardly less success.
+In these writings a robust idealism, humour, fancy, and tenderness
+are so gently mixed as to amount to genius.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>Every Man His Own Boswell</i></h4>
+
+<p>"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly
+called 'facts.' They are the brute beasts of the
+intellectual domain. Who does not know fellows that
+always have an ill-conditioned fact or two that they lead
+after them into decent company like so many bulldogs,
+ready to let them slip at every ingenious suggestion, or
+convenient generalisation, or pleasant fancy? I allow
+no 'facts' at this table."</p>
+
+<p>I continued, for I was in the talking vein, "This business
+of conversation is a very serious matter. There are
+men that it weakens one to talk with an hour more than
+a day's fasting would do. They are the talkers that have
+what may be called jerky minds. After a jolting half-hour
+with one of these jerky companions talking with a
+dull friend affords great relief. It is like taking the cat
+in your lap after holding a squirrel."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not dull people bore you?" said one of the lady
+boarders.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam," said I, "all men are bores except when
+we want them. Talking is like playing on the harp; there
+is as much in laying the hand on the strings to stop the
+vibrations as in twanging them to bring out the music.
+There is this, too, about talking," I continued; "it shapes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span>
+our thoughts for us; the waves of conversation roll them
+as the surf rolls the pebbles on the shore. Writing or
+printing is like shooting with a rifle; you may hit your
+reader's mind, or miss it, but talking is like playing at a
+mark with the pipe of an engine&mdash;if it is within reach,
+and you have time enough, you can't help hitting it."</p>
+
+<p>The company agreed that this last illustration was of
+superior excellence.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Ageing of Ideas</i></h4>
+
+<p>"I want to make a literary confession now, which I
+believe nobody has made before me. I never wrote a
+'good' line in my life, but the moment after it was written
+it seemed a hundred years old. The rapidity with
+which ideas grow old in our memories is in a direct ratio
+to the squares of their importance. A great calamity,
+for instance, is as old as the trilobites an hour after it
+has happened. It stains backward through all the leaves
+we have turned over in the book of life, before its blot
+of tears or of blood is dry on the page we are turning."</p>
+
+<p>I wish I had not said all this then and there. The pale
+schoolmistress, in her mourning dress, was looking at me
+with a wild sort of expression; and all at once she melted
+away from her seat like an image of snow; a sling shot
+could not have brought her down better. God forgive
+me!</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Confusion of Personality</i></h4>
+
+<p>"We must remember that talking is one of the fine
+arts&mdash;the noblest, the most important, and the most difficult.
+It is not easy at the best for two persons talking
+together to make the most of each other's thoughts, there
+are so many of them."</p>
+
+<p>The company looked as if they wanted an explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"When John and Thomas, for instance, are talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span>
+together," I continued, "it is natural that among the six
+there should be more or less confusion and misapprehension."</p>
+
+<p>Our landlady turned pale. No doubt she thought there
+was a screw loose in my intellect, and that it involved the
+probable loss of a boarder. Everybody looked up, and
+the old gentleman opposite slid the carving-knife to one
+side, as it were, carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," I said, "I can make it plain that there are
+at least six personalities distinctly to be recognised as
+taking part in that dialogue between John and Thomas.</p>
+
+<h5>THREE JOHNS</h5>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>1. The real John; known only to his Maker.</p>
+
+<p>2. John's ideal John; never the real one, and often
+very unlike him.</p>
+
+<p>3. Thomas's ideal John; never the real John, nor John's
+John, but often very unlike either.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h5>THREE THOMASES</h5>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>1. The real Thomas.</p>
+
+<p>2. Thomas's ideal Thomas.</p>
+
+<p>3. John's ideal Thomas.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"It follows that until a man can be found who knows
+himself as his Maker knows him, or who sees himself
+as others see him, there must be at least six persons engaged
+in every dialogue between two. No wonder two
+disputants often get angry when there are six of them
+talking and listening all at the same time."</p>
+
+<p>A very unphilosophical application of the above remarks
+was made by a young fellow, answering to the
+name of John, who sits near me at table. A certain
+basket of peaches, a rare vegetable, little known to
+boarding-houses, was on its way to me <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">viâ</i> this unlettered
+Johannes. He appropriated the three that remained in
+the basket, remarking that there was just one apiece for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>
+him. I convinced him that his practical inference was
+hasty and illogical&mdash;but in the meantime he had eaten the
+peaches.</p>
+
+<h4><i>More on Books</i></h4>
+
+<p>"Some of you boarders ask me why I don't write a
+novel, or something of that kind. Well, there are several
+reasons against it. In the first place I should tell all my
+secrets, and I maintain that verse is the proper medium
+for such revelations. Again, I am terribly afraid I
+should show up all my friends, and I am afraid all my
+friends would not bear showing up very well. And
+sometimes I have thought I might be too dull to write
+such a story as I should wish to write. And, finally, I
+think it is very likely I <em>shall</em> write a story one of these
+days.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw you smiled when I spoke about the possibility
+of my being too dull to write a good story. When one
+arrives at the full and final conclusion that he or she is
+really dull, it is one of the most tranquillising and blessed
+convictions that can enter a mortal's mind.</p>
+
+<p>"How sweetly and honestly one said to me the other
+day, 'I hate books!' I did not recognise in him inferiority
+of literary taste half so distinctly as I did simplicity
+of character, and fearless acknowledgment of his
+inaptitude for scholarship. In fact, I think there are a
+great many who read, with a mark to keep their place,
+that really 'hate books,' but never had the wit to find it
+out, or the manliness to own it."</p>
+
+<h4><i>Dual Consciousness</i></h4>
+
+<p>I am so pleased with my boarding-house that I intend
+to remain here, perhaps for years.</p>
+
+<p>"Do thoughts have regular cycles? Take this: All at
+once a conviction flashes through us that we have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span>
+in the same precise circumstances as at the present instant
+once or many times before."</p>
+
+<p>When I mentioned this the Schoolmistress said she
+knew the feeling well, and didn't like to experience it;
+it made her think she was a ghost, sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>The young fellow whom they call John said he knew
+all about it. He had just lighted a cheroot the other day
+when a tremendous conviction came over him that he
+had done just that same thing ever so many times
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"How do I account for it? Well, some think that one
+of the hemispheres of the brain hangs fire, and the small
+interval between the perceptions of the nimble and the
+sluggish half seems an indefinitely long period, and
+therefore the second perception appears to be the copy
+of another, ever so old."</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Race of Life</i></h4>
+
+<p>"Nothing strikes one more in the race of life than to
+see how many give out in the first half of the course.
+'Commencement day' always reminds me of the start
+of the 'Derby.' Here we are at Cambridge and a class
+is first 'graduating.' Poor Harry! he was to have been
+there, but he has paid forfeit.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ten years gone.</i> First turn in the race. A few
+broken down; two or three bolted. 'Cassock,' a black
+colt, seems to be ahead of the rest. 'Meteor' has pulled
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Twenty years.</i> Second corner turned. 'Cassock'
+has dropped from the front, and 'Judex,' an iron-grey,
+has the lead. But look! how they have thinned out!
+Down flat&mdash;five&mdash;six&mdash;how many? They will not get up
+again in this race be very sure!</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Thirty years.</i> Third corner turned. 'Dives,' bright
+sorrel, ridden by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to
+make play fast&mdash;is getting to be the favourite with many.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span>
+But who is that other one that now shows close up to
+the front? Don't you remember the quiet brown colt
+'Asteroid,' with the star in his forehead? That is he;
+he is one of the sort that lasts. 'Cassock' is now taking
+it easily in a gentle trot.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Forty years.</i> More dropping off, but places much as
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Fifty years.</i> Race over. All that are on the course
+are coming in at a walk; no more running. Who is
+ahead? Ahead? What! and the winning-post a slab of
+white or gray stone standing out from that turf where
+there is no more jockeying, or straining for victory!
+Well, the world marks their places in its betting-book;
+but be sure that these matter very little, if they have
+run as well as they knew how!</p>
+
+<p>"I will read you a few lines, if you do not object,
+suggested by looking at a section of one of those chambered
+shells to which is given the name of Pearly
+Nautilus.</p>
+
+<h5 class="p2">THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS</h5>
+
+<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sails the unshadowed main&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The venturous bark that flings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And coral reefs lie bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wrecked is the ship of pearl!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And every chambered cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Before thee lies revealed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Year after year beheld the silent toil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a><br /></span></span>
+<span class="i4">That spread his lustrous coil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Still, as the spiral grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He left the past year's dwelling for the new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stole with soft step its shining archway through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Built up its idle door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretched in his last found home, and knew the old no more.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Child of the wandering sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cast from her lap forlorn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From thy dead lips a clearer note is born<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">While on mine ear it rings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As the swift seasons roll!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Leave thy low-vaulted past!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let each new temple, nobler than the last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Till thou at length art free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<h4><i>Sensibility and Scholarship</i></h4>
+
+<p>"Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door
+by which they may be entered. The front-door is
+on the street. The side-door opens at once into the
+sacred chambers. There is almost always at least one
+key to this side-door. This is carried for years hidden
+in a mother's bosom. Be very careful to whom you
+entrust one of these keys of the side-door. Some of
+those who come in at the side-door have a scale of your
+whole nervous system, and can play on all the gamut of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span>
+your sensibilities in semi-tones. Married life is the
+school in which the most accomplished artists in this
+department are found. Be very careful to whom you
+give the side-door key.</p>
+
+<p>"The world's great men have not commonly been
+great scholars, nor its great scholars great men. The
+Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries, if any; yet they
+represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of
+manhood, and I think if we could ask Abraham to dine
+with us men of letters next Saturday we should feel
+honoured by his company."</p>
+
+<h4><i>A Growing Romance</i></h4>
+
+<p>"I should like to make a few intimate revelations relating
+especially to my early life, if I thought you would
+like to hear them."</p>
+
+<p>The schoolmistress turned in her chair and said, "If
+we should <em>like</em> to hear them&mdash;we should <em>love</em> to."</p>
+
+<p>So I drew my chair a shade nearer her, and went on
+to speak of voices that had bewitched me.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you could hear my sister's voice," said the
+schoolmistress.</p>
+
+<p>"If it is like yours it must be a pleasant one," said I.</p>
+
+<p>Lately she has been walking early and has brought
+back roses in her cheeks. I love the damask rose best
+of all flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Our talk had been of trees, and I had been comparing
+the American and the English elms in the walk we call
+the Mall. "Will you walk out and look at those elms with
+me after breakfast?" I said to the schoolmistress.</p>
+
+<p>I am not going to tell lies about it, and say that she
+blushed. On the contrary, she turned a little bit pale,
+but smiled brightly, and said, "Yes, with pleasure." So
+she went to fetch her bonnet, and the old gentleman
+opposite followed her with his eyes, and said he wished
+he was a young fellow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span>
+"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to the
+corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we won't take it," said I.</p>
+
+<p>When we reached the school-room door the damask
+roses were so much heightened in colour by exercise that
+I felt sure it would be useful to her to take a stroll like
+this every morning.</p>
+
+<p>I have been low-spirited and listless lately. It is coffee,
+I think. I notice that I tell my secrets too easily when
+I am downhearted. There are inscriptions on our hearts
+never seen except at dead low-tide. And there is a
+woman's footstep on the sand at the side of my deepest
+ocean-buried inscription.</p>
+
+<p>I am not going to say which I like best, the seashore
+or the mountains. The one where your place is, is the
+best for you; but this difference there is&mdash;you can
+domesticate mountains. The sea is feline. It licks your
+feet, its huge flanks purr very pleasantly for you; but it
+will crack your bones and eat you for all that, and wipe
+the crimsoned foam from its jaws as if nothing had
+happened. The mountains have a grand, stupid, lovable
+tranquillity; the sea has a fascinating, treacherous intelligence.</p>
+
+<p>"If I thought I should ever see the Alps!" said the
+schoolmistress.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you might some time or other," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not very likely," she answered.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tableau.</i> Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures
+in the foreground, two of them standing apart; one
+of them a gentleman&mdash;oh&mdash;ah&mdash;yes!&mdash;the other a lady,
+leaning on his shoulder. (The reader will understand
+this was an internal, private, subjective diorama, seen for
+one instant on the background of my own consciousness.)</p>
+
+<div class="tb">*<span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span><span class="in2">*</span></div>
+
+<p>I can't say just how many walks she and I had taken
+together. I found the effect of going out every morning
+was decidedly favourable on her health. I am afraid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span>
+I did the greater part of the talking. Better too few
+words from the woman we love than too many; while
+she is silent, Nature is working for her; while she talks
+she works for herself. Love is sparingly soluble in the
+words of men, therefore they speak much of it; but one
+syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than
+a man's heart can hold.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Nature's Patient Advance</i></h4>
+
+<p>I don't know anything sweeter than the leaking in of
+Nature through all the cracks in the walls and floors of
+cities. You heap a million tons of hewn rocks on a
+square mile or so of earth which was green once. The
+trees look down from the hill-tops and ask each other,
+as they stand on tiptoe, "What are these people about?"
+And the small herbs look up and whisper back, "We
+will go and see." So the small herbs pack themselves
+up in the least possible bundles, and wait until the night
+wind steals to them and whispers, "Come with me."
+Then they go softly with it into the great city&mdash;one to a
+cleft in the pavement, one to a spout on the roof, one to
+a seam in the marble over a rich gentleman's bones, and
+one to the grave without a stone, where nothing but a
+man is buried&mdash;and there they grow, looking down on
+the generations of men from mouldy roofs, looking up
+from between the less-trodden pavements, looking out
+through iron cemetery railings.</p>
+
+<p>Listen to them when there is only a light breath stirring,
+and you will hear them saying to each other, "Wait
+awhile." The words run along the telegraph of those
+narrow green lines that border the roads leading from
+the city, until they reach the slope of the hills, and the
+trees repeat in low murmurs, "Wait awhile." By and
+by the flow of life in the streets ebbs, and the old leafy
+inhabitants&mdash;the smaller tribes always in front&mdash;saunter
+in, one by one, very careless seemingly, but very tenacious,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span>
+until they swarm so that the great stones gape
+from each other with the crowding of their roots, and
+the feldspar begins to be picked out of the granite to find
+them food. At last the trees take up their solemn line
+of march, and never rest until they have camped in the
+market-place. Wait long enough, and you will find an
+old doting oak hugging in its yellow underground arms
+a huge worn block that was the cornerstone of the State-house.
+Oh, so patient she is, this imperturbable Nature!</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Long Path</i></h4>
+
+<p>It was in talking of life that the schoolmistress and I
+came nearest together. I thought I knew something
+about that. The schoolmistress had tried life, too. Once
+in a while one meets with a single soul greater than all
+the living pageant that passes before it. This was one
+of them. Fortune had left her, sorrow had baptised her.
+Yet as I looked upon her tranquil face, gradually regaining
+a cheerfulness that was often sprightly, as she became
+interested in the various matters we talked about
+and places we visited, I saw that eye and lip and every
+shifting lineament were made for love.</p>
+
+<p>I never addressed a word of love to the schoolmistress
+in the course of these pleasant walks. It seemed as if we
+talked of everything but love on that particular morning.
+There was, perhaps, a little more timidity and hesitancy
+on my part than I have commonly shown among our
+people at the boarding-house. In fact, I considered myself
+the master at the breakfast-table; but somehow I
+could not command myself just then so well as usual.
+The truth is, I had secured a passage to Liverpool in the
+steamer which was to leave at noon&mdash;with the condition
+of being released if circumstances occurred to detain me.
+The schoolmistress knew nothing about this, of course,
+as yet.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the Common that we were walking. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span>
+boulevard of the Common, you know, has various
+branches leading from it in different directions. One of
+these runs across the whole length of the Common. We
+called it the "long path," and were fond of it.</p>
+
+<p>I felt very weak indeed&mdash;though of a tolerably robust
+habit&mdash;as we came opposite to the head of this path on
+that morning. I think I tried to speak twice, without
+making myself distinctly audible. At last I got out the
+question, "Will you take the long path with me?"
+"Certainly," said the schoolmistress, "with much pleasure."
+"Think," I said, "before you answer. If you
+take the long path with me now, I shall interpret it that
+we are to part no more."</p>
+
+<p>The schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement,
+as if an arrow had struck her. One of the long
+granite blocks used as seats was hard by&mdash;the one you
+may still see close by the gingko-tree. "Pray sit down,"
+I said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she answered softly; "I will walk the <em>long
+path</em> with you!"</p>
+
+<p>The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking,
+arm-in-arm, about the middle of the long path, and said
+very charmingly to us, "Good-morning, my dears!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_193"><a name="LA_BRUYERE" id="LA_BRUYERE">LA BRUYÈRE</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Characters</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Jean de la Bruyère was born in Paris, in August, 1645. He
+studied law and became a barrister, but at the age of twenty-eight
+gave up that profession, which did not agree with his
+tendencies to meditation and his scrupulous mind. In 1673, he
+bought the office of Treasurer of the Finances, and led an independent
+and studious life. In 1684, he became a tutor to the
+Duc de Bourbon, grandson of the great Condé, and continued
+to reside in the Condé household until his death in 1696. In
+the "Caractères," which first appeared in 1688, La Bruyère
+has recorded his impressions of men. In 1687 the manuscript
+was handed to Michallet, a publisher in whose shop La Bruyère
+spent many hours every week. "Will you print this?" asked
+the author. "I don't know whether it will be to your advantage;
+but should it prove a success, the money will be for my dear
+friend, your little daughter." The sale of the book produced
+over $40,000. When La Bruyère was elected a member of the
+French Academy, his enemies declared that the "Characters"
+consisted of satirical portraits of leading personalities, and
+"keys" to the portraits were widely circulated. The pen
+sketches, however, are not only applicable to that period, but to
+every age.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;On Men and Books</i></h4>
+
+<p>All has been said, and one comes too late after the
+seven thousand years during which men have existed&mdash;and
+thought. All that one can do is to think and speak
+rightly, without attempting to force one's tastes and feelings
+upon others.</p>
+
+<p>Mediocrity in poetry, music, painting, and oratory is
+unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>There is in art a certain degree of perfection, as there
+is in Nature an ideal point of matureness. To go beyond,
+or to remain below that degree is faulty.</p>
+
+<p>The ability of a writer consists mainly in giving good
+definitions and apt descriptions. The superiority of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span>
+Moses, Homer, Plato, Virgil, and Horace resides in the
+beauty of their expressions and images. One has to express
+the truth to write in a natural, powerful, and refined
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>It has taken centuries for men to return to the ideal of
+the ancients and to all that is simple and natural.</p>
+
+<p>We feed on the classics and the able, modern authors.
+Then, when we become authors ourselves, we ill-use our
+masters, like those children who, strengthened by the
+milk they have suckled, beat their nurses.</p>
+
+<p>Read your works to those who are able to criticise and
+appreciate them. A good and careful writer often finds
+that the expression he had so long looked for was most
+simple and natural, and one which ought to have occurred
+to him at once and without effort.</p>
+
+<p>The pleasure there is in criticising takes from us the
+joy of being moved by that which is really beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>Arsène, from the top of his mind, looks down upon
+humanity; and, owing to the distance from which he sees
+men, is almost frightened at their smallness. He is so
+filled with his own sublime thoughts that he hardly finds
+time to deliver a few precious oracles.</p>
+
+<p>Théocrine knows things which are rather useless; his
+ideas are always strange, his memory always at work.
+He is a supercilious dreamer, and always seems to laugh
+at those whom he considers as his inferiors. I read my
+book to him; he listens. Afterwards, he speaks to me
+about his own book. What does he think of mine? I
+told you so before: he speaks to me of his own work!</p>
+
+<p>What an amazing difference there is between a beautiful
+book and a perfect book!</p>
+
+<p>When a book elevates your mind, and inspires you with
+noble thoughts, you require nothing else to judge it; it is
+a good and masterly work.</p>
+
+<p>The fools do not understand what they read. The
+mediocre think they understand thoroughly. Great
+minds do not always understand every page of a book;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span>
+they think obscure that which is obscure, and clear that
+which is clear. The pedantic find obscure that which is
+not, and refuse to understand that which is perfectly
+clear.</p>
+
+<p>Molière would have been a perfect writer had he only
+avoided jargon and barbarisms, and written more purely.</p>
+
+<p>Ronsard had in him enough good and bad to form
+great disciples in prose and verse.</p>
+
+<p>Corneille, at his best, is original and inimitable, but he
+is uneven. He had a sublime mind, and has written a
+few verses which are among the best ever written.</p>
+
+<p>Racine is more human. He has imitated the Greek
+classics, and in his tragedies there is simplicity, clearness,
+and pathos.</p>
+
+<p>Corneille paints men as they ought to be; Racine paints
+them as they are. Corneille is more moral; Racine is
+more natural. The former, it seems, owes much to Sophocles;
+the latter, to Euripides.</p>
+
+<p>How is it that people at the theatre laugh so freely, and
+yet are ashamed to weep? Is it less natural to be moved
+by all that is worthy of pity than to burst out laughing
+at all that is ridiculous? Is it that we consider it weak
+to cry, especially when the cause of our emotion is an
+artificial one? But the cause of our laughter at the
+theatre is also artificial. Some persons think it is as
+childish to laugh excessively as to sob.</p>
+
+<p>Not only should plays not be immoral; they should be
+elevating.</p>
+
+<p>Logic is the art of convincing oneself of some truth.
+Eloquence is a gift of the soul which makes one capable
+of conquering the hearts and minds of the listeners and
+of making them believe anything one pleases.</p>
+
+<p>He who pays attention only to the taste of his own
+century thinks more of himself than of his writings.
+One should always aim at perfection. If our contemporaries
+fail to do us justice, posterity may do so.</p>
+
+<p>Horace and Boileau have said all this before. I take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span>
+your word for it; but may I not, after them, "think a
+true thought," which others will think after me?</p>
+
+<p>There are more tools than workers, and among the
+latter, more bad than good ones.</p>
+
+<p>There is, in this world, no task more painful than that
+of making a name for oneself; we die before having even
+sketched our work. It takes, in France, much firmness
+of purpose and much broadmindedness to be indifferent
+to public functions and offices, and to consent to remain
+at home and do nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly anyone has enough merit to assume that part
+in a dignified manner, or enough brains to fill the gap of
+time without what is generally called business.</p>
+
+<p>All that is required is a better name for idleness; and
+that meditation, conversation, reading, and repose should
+be called work.</p>
+
+<p>You tell me that there is gold sparkling on Philémon's
+clothes. So there is on the clothes at the draper's. He
+is covered with the most gorgeous fabrics. I can see
+those fabrics in the shops. But the embroidery and
+ornaments on Philémon's clothes further increase their
+magnificence. If so, I praise the embroiderer's workmanship.
+If someone asks him the time, he takes from
+his pocket a jewelled watch; the hilt of his sword is made
+of onyx; he displays a dazzling diamond on his finger
+and wears all the curious and pretty trifles of fashion and
+vanity. You arouse my interest at last. I ought to see
+those precious things. Send me the clothes and jewels
+of Philémon; I don't require to see <em>him</em>.</p>
+
+<p>It is difficult to tell the hero from the great man at
+war. Both have military virtues. However, the former
+is generally young, enterprising, gifted, self-controlled
+even in danger, and courageous; the latter has much judgment,
+foresees events, and is endowed with much ability
+and experience. Perhaps one might say that Alexander
+was only a hero and that Cæsar was a great man.</p>
+
+<p>Ménippe is a bird adorned with feathers which are not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span>
+his own. He has nothing to say; he has no feelings, no
+thoughts. He repeats what others have said, and uses
+their ideas so instinctively that he deceives himself, and
+is his first victim. He often believes that he is expressing
+his own thoughts, while he is only an echo of someone
+whom he has just left. He believes childishly that
+the amount of wit he possesses is all that man ever possessed.
+He therefore looks like a man who has nothing
+to desire.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;On Women and Wealth</i></h4>
+
+<p>From the age of thirteen to the age of twenty-one, a
+girl wishes she were beautiful; afterwards she wishes
+she were a man.</p>
+
+<p>An unfaithful woman is a woman who has ceased to
+love.</p>
+
+<p>A light-hearted woman is a woman who already loves
+another.</p>
+
+<p>A fickle woman is a woman who does not know
+whether she loves or not, and who does not know what
+or whom she loves.</p>
+
+<p>An indifferent woman is a woman who loves nothing.</p>
+
+<p>There is a false modesty which is vanity; a false glory
+which is light-mindedness; a false greatness which is
+smallness; a false virtue which is hypocrisy; a false
+wisdom which is prudishness.</p>
+
+<p>Why make men responsible for the fact that women
+are ignorant? Have any laws or decrees been issued
+forbidding them to open their eyes, to read, to remember
+what they have read, and to show that they understood
+it in their conversations and their works? Have they
+not themselves decided to know little or nothing, because
+of their physical weakness, or the sluggishness of their
+minds; because of the time their beauty requires; because
+of their light-mindedness which prevents them from
+studying; because they have only talent and genius for
+needlework or house-managing; or because they instinctively<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span>
+dislike all that is earnest and demands some
+effort?</p>
+
+<p>Women go to extremes. They are better or worse
+than men.</p>
+
+<p>Women go farther than men in love; but men make
+better friends.</p>
+
+<p>It is because of men that women dislike one another.</p>
+
+<p>It is nothing for a woman to say what she does not
+mean; it is easier still for a man to say all what he thinks.</p>
+
+<p>Time strengthens the ties of friendship and loosens
+those of love.</p>
+
+<p>There is less distance between hatred and love than
+between dislike and love.</p>
+
+<p>One can no more decide to love for ever than decide
+never to love at all.</p>
+
+<p>One comes across men who irritate one by their
+ridiculous expressions, the strangeness and unfitness of
+the words they use. Their weird jargon becomes to them
+a natural language. They are delighted with themselves
+and their wit. True, they have some wit, but one pities
+them for having so little of it; and, what is more, one
+suffers from it.</p>
+
+<p>Arrias has read and seen everything, and he wants
+people to know it. He is a universal man; he prefers to
+lie rather than keep silent or appear ignorant about something.
+The subject of the conversation is the court of a
+certain northern country. He at once starts talking, and
+speaks of it as if he had been born in that country; he
+gives details on the manners and customs, the women
+and the laws: he tells anecdotes and laughs loudly at his
+own wit. Someone ventures to contradict him and
+proves to him that he is not accurate in his statements.
+Arrias turns to the interrupter: "I am telling nothing
+that is not exact," he says. "I heard all those details
+from Sethon, ambassador of France to that court.
+Sethon returned recently; I know him well, and had a
+long conversation with him on this matter." Arrias was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span>
+resuming his story with more confidence than ever, when
+one of the guests said to him: "I am Sethon, and have
+just returned from my mission."</p>
+
+<p>Cléante is a most honest man. His wife is the most
+reasonable person in the world. Both make everybody
+happy wherever they go, and it were impossible to find
+a more delightful and refined couple. Yet they separate
+to-morrow!</p>
+
+<p>At thirty you think about making your fortune; at
+fifty you have not made it; when you are old, you start
+building, and you die while the painters are still at work.</p>
+
+<p>Numberless persons ruin themselves by gambling, and
+tell you coolly they cannot live without gambling. What
+nonsense! Would it be allowed to say that one cannot
+live without stealing, murdering, or leading a riotous
+existence?</p>
+
+<p>Giton has a fresh complexion, and an aggressive expression.
+He is broad-shouldered and corpulent. He
+speaks with confidence. He blows his nose noisily, spits
+to a great distance, and sneezes loudly. He sleeps a
+great deal, and snores whenever he pleases. When he
+takes a walk with his equals he occupies the centre; when
+he stops, they stop; when he advances again, they do the
+same. No one ever interrupts him. He is jovial, impatient,
+haughty, irritable, independent. He believes
+himself witty and gifted. He is rich.</p>
+
+<p>Phédon has sunken eyes. He is thin, and his cheeks
+are hollow. He sleeps very little. He is a dreamer, and,
+although witty, looks stupid. He forgets to say what he
+knows, and when he does speak, speaks badly. He
+shares the opinion of others; he runs, he flies to oblige
+anyone; he is kind and flattering. He is superstitious,
+scrupulous, and bashful. He walks stealthily, speaks in
+a low voice, and takes no room. He can glide through
+the densest crowd without effort. He coughs, and blows
+his nose inside his hat, and waits to sneeze until he is
+alone. He is poor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;On Men and Manners</i></h4>
+
+<p>Paris is divided into a number of small societies which
+are like so many republics. They have their own customs,
+laws, language, and even their own jokes.</p>
+
+<p>One grows up, in towns, in a gross ignorance of all
+that concerns the country. City-bred men are unable to
+tell hemp from flax, and wheat from rye. We are satisfied
+as long as we can feed and dress.</p>
+
+<p>When we speak well of a man at court, we invariably
+do so for two reasons: firstly, in order that he may hear
+that we spoke well of him; secondly, in order that he
+may speak well of us in his turn.</p>
+
+<p>To be successful and to secure high offices there are
+two ways: the high-road, on which most people pass;
+and the cross-road, which is the shorter.</p>
+
+<p>The youth of a prince is the origin of many fortunes.</p>
+
+<p>Court is where joys are evident, but artificial; where
+sorrows are concealed, but real.</p>
+
+<p>A slave has one master; an ambitious man has as many
+as there are persons who may be useful to him in his
+career.</p>
+
+<p>With five or six art terms, people give themselves out
+as experts in music, painting, and architecture.</p>
+
+<p>The high opinions people have of the great and mighty
+is so blind, and their interest in their gestures, features,
+and manners so general, that if the mighty were only
+good, the devotion of the people to them would amount
+to worship.</p>
+
+<p>Lucile prefers to waste his life as the protégé of a
+few aristocrats than to live on familiar terms with his
+peers.</p>
+
+<p>It is advisable to say nothing of the mighty. If you
+speak well of them, it is flattery. It is dangerous to
+speak ill of them during their lifetime, and it is cowardly
+to do so after they are dead.</p>
+
+<p>Life is short and annoying. We spend life wishing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span>
+When life is wretched, it is hard to bear; when it is
+happy, it is dreadful to lose it. The one alternative is as
+bad as the other.</p>
+
+<p>Death occurs only once, but makes itself felt at every
+moment of our life. It is more painful to fear it than
+to suffer it.</p>
+
+<p>There are but three events for man: birth, life, and
+death. He does not realise his birth, he suffers when he
+dies, and he forgets to live.</p>
+
+<p>We seek our happiness outside ourselves. We seek it
+in the opinions of men whom we know are flatterers, and
+who lack sincerity. What folly! Most men spend half
+their lives making the other half miserable.</p>
+
+<p>It is easier for many men to acquire one thousand
+virtues than to get rid of one defect.</p>
+
+<p>It is as difficult to find a conceited man who believes
+himself really happy as to discover a modest man who
+thinks himself too unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>The birch is necessary to children. Grown-up men
+need a crown, a sceptre, velvet caps and fur-lined robes.
+Reason and justice devoid of ornaments would not be
+imposing or convincing. Man, who is a mind, is led by
+his eyes and his ears!</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;On Customs and Religion</i></h4>
+
+<p>Fashion in matters of food, health, taste and conscience
+is utterly foolish. Game is at present out of fashion, and
+condemned as a food. It is to-day a sin against fashion
+to be cured of the ague by blood-letting.</p>
+
+<p>The conceited man thinks every day of the way in
+which he will be able to attract attention on the following
+day. The philosopher leaves the matter of his clothes
+to his tailor. It is just as childish to avoid fashion as to
+follow its decrees too closely.</p>
+
+<p>Fashion exists in the domain of religion.</p>
+
+<p>There have been young ladies who were virtuous,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span>
+healthy and pious, who wished to enter a convent, but
+who were not rich enough to take in a wealthy abbey the
+vows of poverty.</p>
+
+<p>How many men one sees who are strong and righteous,
+who would never listen to the entreaties of their friends,
+but who are easily influenced and corrupted by women.</p>
+
+<p>I would like to hear a sober, moderate, chaste, righteous
+man declare that there is no God. At least he would be
+speaking in a disinterested manner. But there is no
+such man to be found.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that I am unable to prove that God does not
+exist establishes for me the fact that God does exist.</p>
+
+<p>Atheism does not exist. If there were real atheists,
+it would merely prove that there are monsters in this
+world.</p>
+
+<p>Forty years ago I didn't exist, and it was not within
+my power to be born. It does not depend upon me who
+now exist to be no more. Consequently, I began being
+and am going on being, thanks to something which is
+beyond me, which will last after me, which is mightier
+than I am. If that something is not God, pray tell me
+what it is.</p>
+
+<p>Everything is great and worthy of admiration in
+Nature.</p>
+
+<p>O you vain and conceited man, make one of these
+worms which you despise! You loathe toads; make a
+toad if you can!</p>
+
+<p>Kings, monarchs, potentates, sacred majesties, have I
+given you all your supreme names? We, mere men, require
+some rain for our crops or even some dew; make
+some dew, send to the earth a drop of water!</p>
+
+<p>A certain inequality in the destinies of men, which
+maintains order and obedience, is the work of God. It
+suggests a divine law.</p>
+
+<p>If the reader does not care for these "characters," it
+will surprise me; if he does care for them, it will also
+surprise me.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_203"><a name="WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR" id="WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR">WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Imaginary Conversations</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Walter Savage Landor, writer, scholar, poet, and, it might almost
+be said, quarreller, said of his own fame, "I shall dine late,
+but the dining-room will be well lighted, the guests few and
+select." A powerful, turbulent spirit, he attracted great men.
+Emerson, Browning, Dickens, and Swinburne travelled to sit at
+his feet, and he knew Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Lamb, and
+Southey. Born at Warwick, on January 30, 1775, he was dismissed
+from Rugby School at the age of fifteen, and from Oxford
+at the age of nineteen; was estranged from his father;
+several times left the wife whom he had married for her golden
+hair, and spent the last years of his life, lonely but lionised, at
+Florence. To the last&mdash;which came on September 17, 1864&mdash;he
+wrote both prose and verse. Landor appears, to the average
+appreciator of English literature, an interesting personality
+rather than a great writer, though his epic, "Gebir" (1798), and
+his tragedy, "Count Julian" (1812), like some of his minor
+verse, contain passages of great beauty. But it was in the
+"Imaginary Conversations," written between 1821 and 1829, and
+first sampled by the public in review form in 1823, that he endowed
+the English language with his most permanent achievement.
+Nearly 150 of these "Conversations" were written in all,
+and we epitomise here five of the best-known.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Peter the Great and Alexis</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: And so, after flying from thy father's house,
+thou hast returned again from Vienna. After this affront
+in the face of Europe, thou darest to appear before me?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: My emperor and father! I am brought before
+your majesty not at my own desire.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: I believe it well. What hope hast thou, rebel,
+in thy flight to Vienna?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: The hope of peace and privacy; the hope of
+security, and, above all things, of never more offending
+you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Didst thou take money?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: A few gold pieces. Hitherto your liberality,
+my father, hath supplied my wants of every kind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Not of wisdom, not of duty, not of spirit, not
+of courage, not of ambition. I have educated thee among
+my guards and horses, among my drums and trumpets,
+among my flags and masts. I have rolled cannon balls
+before thee over iron plates; I have shown thee bright
+new arms, bayonets, and sabres. I have myself led thee
+forth to the window when fellows were hanged and shot;
+and I have made thee, in spite of thee, look steadfastly
+upon them, incorrigible coward! Thy intention, I know,
+is to subvert the institutions it has been the labour of my
+lifetime to establish. Thou hast never rejoiced at my
+victories.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: I have rejoiced at your happiness and your
+safety.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Liar! Coward! Traitor! When the Polanders
+and the Swedes fell before me, didst thou congratulate
+me? Didst thou praise the Lord of Hosts? Wert
+thou not silent and civil and low-spirited?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: I lamented the irretrievable loss of human
+life, I lamented that the bravest and noblest were swept
+away the first, that order was succeeded by confusion,
+and that your majesty was destroying the glorious plans
+you alone were capable of devising.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Of what plans art thou speaking?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: Of civilising the Muscovites. The Polanders
+in parts were civilised; the Swedes more than any other
+nation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Civilised, forsooth? Why the robes of the
+metropolitan, him at Upsal, are not worth three ducats.
+But I am wasting my words. Thine are tenets that strike
+at the root of politeness and sound government.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span>: When I hear the God of Mercy invoked to
+massacres, and thanked for furthering what He reprobates
+and condemns&mdash;I look back in vain on any barbarous
+people for worse barbarism.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Malignant atheist! Am I Czar of Muscovy,
+and hear discourse on reason and religion&mdash;from my own
+son, too? No, by the Holy Trinity! thou art no son of
+mine. Unnatural brute, I have no more to do with thee.
+Ho there! Chancellor! What! Come at last! Wert
+napping, or counting thy ducats?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: Your majesty's will, and pleasure!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Is the senate assembled?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: Every member, sire.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Conduct this youth with thee, and let them
+judge him; thou understandest?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: Your majesty's commands are the breath
+of our nostrils.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: If these rascals are amiss, I will try my new
+cargo of Livonian hemp upon 'em.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span> (<i>returning</i>): Sire! Sire!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Speak, fellow! Surely they have not condemned
+him to death without giving themselves time to
+read the accusation, that thou comest back so quickly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: No, sire! Nor has either been done.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Then thy head quits thy shoulders.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: O sire! he fell.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Tie him up to thy chair, then. Cowardly beast!
+What made him fall?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: The hand of death.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Prythee speak plainlier.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Chancellor</span>: He said calmly, but not without sighing
+twice or thrice, "Lead me to the scaffold; I am weary of
+life. My father says, too truly, I am not courageous, but
+the death that leads me to my God shall never terrify me."
+When he heard your majesty's name accusing him of
+treason and attempts at parricide, he fell speechless. We
+raised him up: he was dead!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span>: Inconsiderate and barbarous varlet as thou art,
+dost thou recite this ill accident to a father&mdash;and to one
+who has not dined? Bring me a glass of brandy. Away
+and bring it: scamper! Hark ye! bring the bottle with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span>
+it: and&mdash;hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some
+pickled sturgeon, and some krout and caviar.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Joseph Scaliger and Montaigne</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: What could have brought you, M. de
+l'Escale, other than a good heart? You rise early, I see;
+you must have risen with the sun, to be here at this hour.
+I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in Auvergne.
+Pierre, thou hast done well; set it upon the table, and tell
+Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil
+them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: This, I perceive, is the ante-chamber to your
+library; here are your every-day books.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: Faith! I have no other. These are
+plenty, methinks.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: You have great resources within yourself,
+and therefore can do with fewer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: Why, how many now do you think here
+may be?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: I did not believe at first that there could be
+above fourscore.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: Well! are fourscore few? Are we talking
+of peas and beans?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: I and my father (put together) have written
+well-nigh as many.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: Ah! to write them is quite another thing.
+How do you like my wine? If you prefer your own country
+wine, only say it. I have several bottles in my cellar.
+I do not know, M. de l'Escale, whether you are particular
+in these matters?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: I know three things&mdash;wine, poetry, and the
+world.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: You know one too many, then. I hardly
+know whether I know anything about poetry; for I like
+Clem Marot better than Ronsard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: It pleases me greatly that you like Marot.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span>
+His version of the Psalms is lately set to music, and added
+to the New Testament of Geneva.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: It is putting a slice of honeycomb into a
+barrel of vinegar, which will never grow the sweeter for it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: Surely, you do not think in this fashion of
+the New Testament?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: Who supposes it? Whatever is mild and
+kindly is there. But Jack Calvin has thrown bird-lime
+and vitriol upon it, and whoever but touches the cover
+dirties his fingers or burns them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: Calvin is a very great man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: I do not like your great men who beckon
+me to them, call me their begotten, their dear child, and
+their entrails; and, if I happen to say on any occasion,
+"I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little from you," stamp and
+cry, "The devil you do!" and whistle to the executioner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: John Calvin is a grave man, orderly, and
+reasonable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: In my opinion he has not the order nor
+the reason of my cook. Mat never twitched God by the
+sleeve and swore He should not have his own way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: M. de Montaigne, have you ever studied the
+doctrine of predestination?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: I should not understand it if I had; and
+I would not break through an old fence merely to get into
+a cavern. Would it make me honester or happier, or, in
+other things, wiser?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: I do not know whether it would materially.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: I should be an egregious fool, then, to
+care about it. Come, walk about with me; after a ride
+you can do nothing better to take off fatigue. I can show
+you nothing but my house and my dairy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scaliger</span>: Permit me to look a little at those banners.
+They remind me of my own family, we being descended
+from the great Cane della Scala, Prince of Verona, and
+from the House of Hapsburg, as you must have heard
+from my father.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Montaigne</span>: What signifies it to the world whether
+the great Cane was tied to his grandmother or not? As
+for the House of Hapsburg, if you could put together as
+many such houses as would make up a city larger than
+Cairo, they would not be worth his study, or a sheet of
+paper on the table of it.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Bossuet and the Duchesse de Fontanges</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Mademoiselle, it is the king's desire that I
+compliment you on the elevation you have attained.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: O monseigneur, I know very well what
+you mean. His majesty is kind and polite to everybody.
+The last thing he said to me was, "Angélique! do not
+forget to compliment monseigneur the bishop on the dignity
+I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the dauphiness.
+I desired the appointment for him only that he
+might be of rank sufficient to confess you, now you are
+duchess." You are so agreeable a man, monseigneur, I
+will confess to you, directly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Have you brought yourself to a proper frame
+of mind, young lady?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: What is that?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Do you hate sin?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: Very much.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Do you hate the world?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: A good deal of it; all Picardy, for example,
+and all Sologne; nothing is uglier&mdash;and, oh my life!
+what frightful men and women!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: I would say in plain language, do you hate
+the flesh and the devil?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: Who does not hate the devil? If you will
+hold my hand the while, I will tell him so&mdash;"I hate you,
+beast!" There now. As for flesh, I never could bear a
+fat man. Such people can neither dance nor hunt, nor do
+anything that I know of.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Mademoiselle Marie Angélique de Scoraille<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span>
+de Rousille, Duchesse de Fontanges! Do you hate titles,
+and dignities, and yourself?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: Myself! Does anyone hate me? Why
+should I be the first? Hatred is the worst thing in the
+world; it makes one so very ugly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: We must detest our bodies if we would save
+our souls.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: That is hard. How can I do it? I see
+nothing so detestable in mine. Do you? As God hath
+not hated me, why should I? As for titles and dignities,
+I am glad to be a duchess. Would not you rather be a
+duchess than a waiting-maid if the king gave you your
+choice?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am confounded
+at the levity of your question. If you really have anything
+to confess, and desire that I should have the honour of
+absolving you, it would be better to proceed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: You must first direct me, monseigneur.
+I have nothing particular. What was it that dropped on
+the floor as you were speaking?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Leave it there!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: Your ring fell from your hand, my lord
+bishop! How quick you are! Could not you have trusted
+me to pick it up?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bossuet</span>: Madame is too condescending. My hand is
+shrivelled; the ring has ceased to fit it. A pebble has
+moved you more than my words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fontanges</span>: It pleases me vastly. I admire rubies. I
+will ask the king for one exactly like it. This is the time
+he usually comes from the chase. I am sorry you cannot
+be present to hear how prettily I shall ask him. I am sure
+he will order the ring for me, and I will confess to you
+with it upon my finger. But, first, I must be cautious and
+particular to know of him how much it is his royal will
+that I should say.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;The Empress Catharine and Princess Dashkof</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Catharine</span>: Into his heart! Into his heart! If he
+escapes, we perish! Do you think, Dashkof, they can
+hear me through the double door? Yes, hark! they heard
+me. They have done it! What bubbling and gurgling!
+He groaned but once. Listen! His blood is busier now
+than it ever was before. I should not have thought it
+could have splashed so loud upon the floor. Put you ear
+against the lock.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dashkof</span>: I hear nothing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Catharine</span>: My ears are quicker than yours, and know
+these notes better. Let me come. There! There again!
+The drops are now like lead. How now? Which of
+these fools has brought his dog with him? What trampling
+and lapping! The creature will carry the marks all
+about the palace with his feet! You turn pale, and tremble.
+You should have supported me, in case I had required
+it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dashkof</span>: I thought only of the tyrant. Neither in
+life nor in death could any one of these miscreants make
+me tremble. But the husband slain by his wife! What
+will Russia&mdash;what will Europe say?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Catharine</span>: Russia has no more voice than a whale.
+She may toss about in her turbulence, but my artillery
+(for now, indeed, I can safely call it mine) shall stun and
+quiet her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dashkof</span>: I fear for your renown.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Catharine</span>: Europe shall be informed of my reasons,
+if she should ever find out that I countenanced the conspiracy.
+She shall be persuaded that her repose made the
+step necessary; that my own life was in danger; that I
+fell upon my knees to soften the conspirators; that only
+when I had fainted, the horrible deed was done.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dashkof</span>: Europe may be more easily subjugated than
+duped.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Catharine</span>: She shall be both, God willing! Is the
+rouge off my face?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dashkof</span>: It is rather in streaks and mottles, excepting
+just under the eyes, where it sits as it should do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Catharine</span>: I am heated and thirsty. I cannot imagine
+how. I think we have not yet taken our coffee. I
+could eat only a slice of melon at breakfast&mdash;my duty
+urged me <em>then</em>&mdash;and dinner is yet to come. Remember, I
+am to faint at the midst of it, when the intelligence comes
+in, or, rather, when, in despite of every effort to conceal it
+from me, the awful truth has flashed upon my mind.
+Remember, too, you are to catch me, and to cry for help,
+and to tear those fine flaxen hairs which we laid up
+together on the toilet; and we are both to be as inconsolable
+as we can be for the life of us.</p>
+
+<p>Come, sing. I know not how to fill up the interval.
+Two long hours yet! How stupid and tiresome! I wish
+all things of the sort could be done and be over in a day.
+They are mightily disagreeable when by nature one is not
+cruel. People little know my character. I have the tenderest
+heart upon earth. Ivan must follow next; he is
+heir to the throne. But not now. Another time. Two
+such scenes together, and without some interlude, would
+perplex people.</p>
+
+<p>I thought we spoke of singing. Do not make me wait.
+Cannot you sing as usual, without smoothing your dove's
+throat with your handkerchief, and taking off your necklace?
+Sing, sing! I am quite impatient!</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;Bacon and Richard Hooker</i></h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: Hearing much of your worthiness and wisdom,
+Master Richard Hooker, I have besought your comfort
+and consolation in this my too heavy affliction, for we
+often do stand in need of hearing what we know full well,
+and our own balsams must be poured into our breasts by
+another's hand. Withdrawn, as you live, from court and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span>
+courtly men, and having ears occupied by better reports
+than such as are flying about me, yet haply so hard a case
+as mine, befalling a man heretofore not averse from the
+studies in which you take delight, may have touched you
+with some concern.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: I do think, my lord of Verulam, that the day
+which in his wisdom he appointed for your trial was the
+very day on which the king's majesty gave unto your
+ward and custody the great seal of his English realm.
+And&mdash;let me utter it without offence&mdash;your features and
+stature were from that day forward no longer what they
+were before. Such an effect do rank and power and
+office produce even on prudent and religious men. You,
+my lord, as befits you, are smitten and contrite; but I
+know that there is always a balm which lies uppermost in
+these afflictions.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: Master Richard, it is surely no small matter to
+lose the respect of those who looked up to us for countenance;
+and the favour of a right learned king, and, O
+Master Hooker, such a power of money! But money is
+mere dross. I should always hold it so, if it possessed not
+two qualities&mdash;that of making men treat us reverently,
+and that of enabling us to help the needy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: The respect, I think, of those who respect
+us for what a fool can give and a rogue can take away,
+may easily be dispensed with; but it is indeed a high prerogative
+to help the needy, and when it pleases the Almighty
+to deprive us of it, he hath removed a most fearful
+responsibility.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: Methinks it beginneth to rain, Master Richard.
+What if we comfort our bodies with a small cup of wine,
+against the ill-temper of the air. Pledge me; hither
+comes our wine.(<i>To the servant</i>) Dolt! Is not this
+the beverage I reserve for myself?</p>
+
+<p>Bear with me, good Master Hooker, but verily I have
+little of this wine, and I keep it as a medicine for my many
+and growing infirmities. You are healthy at present:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span>
+God, in His infinite mercy, long maintain you so!
+Weaker drink is more wholesome for you. But this
+Malmsey, this Malmsey, flies from centre to circumference,
+and makes youthful blood boil.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Of a truth, my knowledge in such matters is
+but sparse. My lord of Canterbury once ordered part of
+a goblet, containing some strong Spanish wine, to be
+taken to me from his table when I dined by sufferance
+with his chaplains, and, although a most discreet, prudent
+man, as befitteth his high station, was not so chary of my
+health as your lordship. Wine is little to be trifled with;
+physic less. The Cretans, the brewers of this Malmsey,
+have many aromatic and powerful herbs among them.
+On their mountains, and notably on Ida, grows that dittany
+which works such marvels, and which perhaps may
+give activity to this hot medicinal drink of theirs. I
+would not touch it knowingly; an unregarded leaf dropped
+into it above the ordinary might add such puissance to the
+concoction as almost to break the buckles in my shoes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: When I read of such things I doubt them:
+but if I could procure a plant of dittany I would persuade
+my apothecary and my gamekeeper to make experiments.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: I dare not distrust what grave writers have
+declared in matters beyond my knowledge.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: Good Master Hooker, I have read many of
+your reasonings, and they are admirably well sustained.
+Yet forgive me, in God's name my worthy master, if you
+descried in me some expression of wonder at your simplicity.
+You would define to a hair's breadth the qualities,
+states, and dependencies of principalities, dominations,
+and powers; you would be unerring about the apostles
+and the churches, and 'tis marvellous how you wander
+about a pot-herb!</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: I know my poor, weak intellects, most noble
+lord, and how scantily they have profited by my hard
+painstaking. Wisdom consisteth not in knowing many
+things, nor even in knowing them thoroughly, but in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span>
+choosing and in following what conduces the most certainly
+to our lasting happiness and true glory.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: I have observed among the well-informed and
+the ill-informed nearly the same quantity of infirmities
+and follies; those who are rather the wiser keep them
+separate, and those who are wisest of all keep them better
+out of sight. I have persuaded men, and shall persuade
+them for ages, that I possess a wide range of thought unexplored
+by others, and first thrown open by me, with
+many fair enclosures of choice and abstruse knowledge.
+One subject, however, hath almost escaped me, and surely
+one worth the trouble.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hooker</span>: Pray, my lord, if I am guilty of no indiscretion,
+what may it be?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bacon</span>: Francis Bacon.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_215"><a name="LA_ROCHEFOUCAULD" id="LA_ROCHEFOUCAULD">LA ROCHEFOUCAULD</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Reflections and Moral Maxims</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Rochefoucauld's "Reflections, or Sentences and Moral Maxims,"
+were published in 1665. In them his philosophy of life
+is expressed with a perfection of form which still remains
+unrivalled and unequalled. The original work contains only
+314 short sentences; the last edition he published contains 541;
+but when one examines the exquisite workmanship of his style,
+one does not wonder that it represents the labour of twenty
+years. La Rochefoucauld (see Vol. X, p. 203) is one of the
+greatest masters of French prose, as well as one of the great
+masters of cynicism. He has exerted a deep influence both on
+English and French literature, and Swift and Byron were among
+his disciples.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Of Love and of Women</i></h4>
+
+<p>To judge love by most of its effects, it seems more like
+hatred than kindness.</p>
+
+<p>In love we often doubt of what we most believe.</p>
+
+<p>As long as we love, we forgive.</p>
+
+<p>Love is like fire, it cannot be without continual motion;
+as soon as it ceases to hope or fear it ceases to exist.</p>
+
+<p>Many persons would never have been in love had they
+never heard talk of it.</p>
+
+<p>Agreeable and pleasant as love is, it pleases more by
+the manners in which it shows itself than by itself alone.</p>
+
+<p>We pass on from love to ambition; we seldom return
+from ambition to love.</p>
+
+<p>Those who have had a great love affair find themselves
+all their life happy and unhappy at being cured of it.</p>
+
+<p>In love the one who is first cured is best cured.</p>
+
+<p>The reason why lovers are never weary of talking of
+each other is that they are always talking of themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Constancy in love is a perpetual inconstancy which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span>
+makes our heart attach itself in succession to all the
+qualities of our beloved, and prefer, now this trait and
+now that; so that this constancy is only a kind of inconstancy
+fixed and enclosed in a single object.</p>
+
+<p>If there is a love pure and exempt from all mixture
+with our other passions, it is that which is hidden in the
+depth of our heart and unknown to ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>The pleasure of love consists in loving, and our own
+passion gives us more happiness than the feelings which
+our beloved has for us.</p>
+
+<p>The grace of novelty is to love like the fine bloom on
+fruit; it gives it a lustre which is easily effaced and never
+recovered.</p>
+
+<p>We are nearer loving those who hate us than those
+who love us more than we desire.</p>
+
+<p>Women often fancy themselves to be in love when they
+are not. Their natural passion for being beloved, their
+unwillingness to give a denial, the excitement of mind
+produced by an affair of gallantry, all these make them
+imagine they are in love when they are in fact only
+coquetting.</p>
+
+<p>All women are flirts. Some are restrained by timidity
+and some by reason.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest miracle of love is the reformation of a
+coquette.</p>
+
+<p>A coquette pretends to be jealous of her lover, in order
+to conceal her envy of other women.</p>
+
+<p>Most women yield more from weakness than from passion,
+hence an enterprising man usually succeeds with
+them better than an amiable man.</p>
+
+<p>It is harder for women to overcome their coquetry
+than their love. No woman knows how much of a
+coquette she is.</p>
+
+<p>Women who are in love more readily forgive great
+indiscretions than small infidelities.</p>
+
+<p>Some people are so full of themselves that even when
+they become lovers they find a way of being occupied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span>
+with their passion without being interested in the person
+whom they love.</p>
+
+<p>It is useless to be young without being beautiful, or
+beautiful without being young.</p>
+
+<p>In their first love affairs women love their lover; in all
+others they love love.</p>
+
+<p>In the old age of love, as in the old age of life, we
+continue to live to pain long after we have ceased to live
+to pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>There is no passion in which self-love reigns so powerfully
+as in love; we are always more ready to sacrifice
+the repose of a person we love than to lose our own.</p>
+
+<p>There is a certain kind of love which, as it grows excessive,
+leaves no room for jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>Jealousy is born with love, but it does not always die
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>Jealousy is the greatest of all afflictions, and that
+which least excites pity in the persons that cause it.</p>
+
+<p>In love and in friendship we are often happier by
+reason of the things that we do not know than by those
+that we do.</p>
+
+<p>There are few women whose merit lasts longer than
+their beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The reason why most women are little touched by
+friendship is that friendship is insipid to those who have
+felt what love is.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Friendship</i></h4>
+
+<p>In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find
+something that does not displease us.</p>
+
+<p>Rare as true love is, it is less rare than true friendship.</p>
+
+<p>What makes us so changing in our friendships is that
+it is difficult to discern the qualities of the soul, and easy
+to recognize the qualities of the mind.</p>
+
+<p>It is equally difficult to have a friendship for those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>
+whom we do not esteem as for those we esteem more
+than ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>We love those who admire us, not those whom we
+admire.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the friendships of the world ill deserve the
+name of friendship; still, a man may make occasional
+use of them, as in a business where the profits are uncertain
+and it is usual to be cheated.</p>
+
+<p>It is more dishonourable to mistrust a friend than to
+be deceived by him.</p>
+
+<p>We are fond of exaggerating the love our friends bear
+us, but it is less from a feeling of gratitude than from
+a desire to advertise our own merits.</p>
+
+<p>What usually hinders us from revealing the depths of
+our hearts to our friends is not so much the distrust
+which we have of them as the distrust that we have of
+ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>We confess our little defects merely to persuade our
+friends that we have no great failings.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest effort of friendship is not to show our
+defects to a friend, but to make him see his own.</p>
+
+<p>Sincerity is an opening of the heart. It is found in
+exceedingly few people, and what passes for it is only
+a subtle dissimulation used to attract confidence.</p>
+
+<p>We can love nothing except in relation to ourselves,
+and we merely follow our own bent and pleasure when
+we prefer our friends to ourselves; yet it is only by
+this preference that friendship can be made true and
+perfect.</p>
+
+<p>It seems as if self-love is the dupe of kindness and
+that it is forgotten while we are working for the benefit
+of other men. In this case, however, our self-love is
+merely taking the safest road to arrive at its ends; it is
+lending at usury under the pretext of giving, it is aiming
+at winning all the world by subtle and delicate means.</p>
+
+<p>The first impulses of joy excited in us by the good
+fortune of our friends proceed neither from our good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span>
+nature nor from the friendship we have for them; it is
+an effect of self-love that flatters us with the hope either
+of being fortunate in our turn or of drawing some advantage
+from their prosperity.</p>
+
+<p>What makes us so eager to form new acquaintances is
+not the mere pleasure of change or a weariness of old
+friendships, so much as a disgust at not being enough
+admired by those who know us too well, and a hope of
+winning more admiration from persons who do not know
+much about us.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Things of the Mind</i></h4>
+
+<p>The mind is always the dupe of the heart. Those who
+are acquainted with their own mind are not acquainted
+with their own heart.</p>
+
+<p>The mind is more indolent than the body.</p>
+
+<p>It is the mark of fine intellects to explain many things
+in a few words; little minds have the gift of speaking
+much and saying nothing.</p>
+
+<p>We speak but little when vanity does not make us
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>A spirit of confidence helps on conversation more than
+brilliance of mind does.</p>
+
+<p>True eloquence consists of saying all that is necessary,
+and nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>A man may be witty and still be a fool; judgment is
+the source of wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>A man does not please for very long when he has but
+one kind of wit.</p>
+
+<p>It is a mistake to imagine that wit and judgment are
+two distinct things; judgment is only the perfection of
+wit, which pierces into the recesses of things and there
+perceives what from the outside seems to be imperceptible.</p>
+
+<p>A man of intelligence would often be at a loss were it
+not for the company of fools.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span>
+It is not so much fertility of mind that leads us to
+discover many expedients in regard to a single matter, as
+a defect of intelligence, that makes us stop at everything
+presented to our imagination, and hinders us from discerning
+at once which is the best course.</p>
+
+<p>Some old men like to give good advice to console
+themselves for being no longer in a state to give a bad
+example.</p>
+
+<p>No man of sound good sense strikes us as such unless
+he is of our way of thinking.</p>
+
+<p>Stiffness of opinion comes from pettiness of mind;
+we do not easily believe in anything that is beyond our
+range of vision.</p>
+
+<p>Good taste is based on judgment rather than on intelligence.</p>
+
+<p>It is more often through pride than through any want
+of enlightenment that men set themselves stubbornly to
+oppose the most current opinions; finding all the best
+places taken on the popular side, they do not want those
+in the rear.</p>
+
+<p>In order to understand things well one must know the
+detail of them; and as this is almost infinite, our knowledge
+is always superficial and imperfect.</p>
+
+<p>It is never so difficult to talk well as when we are
+ashamed of our silence.</p>
+
+<p>The excessive pleasure we feel in talking about ourselves
+ought to make us apprehensive that we afford
+little to our listeners.</p>
+
+<p>Truth has not done so much good in the world as the
+false appearances of it have done harm.</p>
+
+<p>Man's chief wisdom consists in being sensible of his
+follies.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Human Life and Human Nature</i></h4>
+
+<p>Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of
+reason.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>
+The passions of youth are scarcely more opposed to
+salvation than the lukewarmness of old persons.</p>
+
+<p>There is not enough material in a fool to make a good
+man out of him.</p>
+
+<p>We have more strength than will, and it is often to
+excuse ourselves to ourselves that we imagine things are
+impossible.</p>
+
+<p>There are few things impossible in themselves; it is
+the application to achieve them that we lack more than
+the means.</p>
+
+<p>It is a mistake to imagine that only the more violent
+passions, such as ambition and love, can triumph over
+the rest. Idleness often masters them all. It indeed
+influences all our designs and actions, and insensibly
+destroys both our vices and our virtues.</p>
+
+<p>Idleness is of all our passions that which is most unknown
+to ourselves. It is the most ardent and the most
+malign of all, though we do not feel its working, and the
+harm which it does is hidden. If we consider its
+power attentively, we shall see that in every struggle it
+triumphs over our feelings, our interests, and our pleasures.
+To give a true idea of this passion it is necessary
+to add that idleness is like a beatitude of the soul which
+consoles it for all its losses and serves in place of all its
+wealth.</p>
+
+<p>The gratitude of most men is only a secret desire to
+receive greater favours.</p>
+
+<p>We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits
+than those from whom we receive them.</p>
+
+<p>It is less dangerous to do harm to most men than to do
+them too much good.</p>
+
+<p>If we had no defects ourselves we should not take so
+much pleasure in observing the failings of others.</p>
+
+<p>One man may be more cunning than another man, but
+he cannot be more cunning than all the world.</p>
+
+<p>Mankind has made a virtue of moderation in order
+to limit the ambition of great men and to console mediocre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>
+people for their scanty fortune and their scanty
+merit.</p>
+
+<p>We should often be ashamed of our finest actions if
+the world saw all the motives that produced them.</p>
+
+<p>Our desire to speak of ourselves, and to reveal our
+defects in the best light in which we can show them,
+constitutes a great part of our sincerity.</p>
+
+<p>The shame that arises from undeserved praise often
+leads us to do things which we should not otherwise
+have attempted.</p>
+
+<p>The labours of the body free us from the pains of the
+mind. It is this that constitutes the happiness of the
+poor.</p>
+
+<p>It is more necessary to study men than to study books.</p>
+
+<p>The truly honest man is he who sets no value on himself.</p>
+
+<p>Censorious as the world is, it is oftener favourable to
+false merit than unjust to true.</p>
+
+<p>It is not enough to possess great qualities; we must
+know how to use them.</p>
+
+<p>He who lives without folly is not so wise as he fancies.</p>
+
+<p>Good manners are the least of all laws and the most
+strictly observed.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody complains of a lack of memory, nobody
+of a lack of judgment.</p>
+
+<p>The love of justice is nothing more than a fear of
+injustice.</p>
+
+<p>Passion often makes a fool of a man of sense, and
+sometimes it makes a fool a man of sense.</p>
+
+<p>Nature seems to have hidden in the depth of our
+minds a skill and a talent of which we are ignorant; only
+our passions are able to bring them out and to give us
+sometimes surer and more complete views than we could
+arrive at by thought and study.</p>
+
+<p>Our passions are the only orators with an unfailing
+power of persuasion. They are an art of nature with
+infallible rules, and the simplest man who is possessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span>
+by passion is far more persuasive than the most eloquent
+speaker who is not moved by feeling.</p>
+
+<p>As we grow old we grow foolish as well as wise.</p>
+
+<p>Few people know how to grow old.</p>
+
+<p>Death and the sun are things one cannot look at
+steadily.</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;Virtues and Vices</i></h4>
+
+<p>Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue.</p>
+
+<p>Our vices are commonly disguised virtues.</p>
+
+<p>Virtue would not go far if vanity did not go with her.</p>
+
+<p>Prosperity is a stronger test of virtue than misfortune
+is.</p>
+
+<p>Men blame vice and praise virtue only through self-interest.</p>
+
+<p>Great souls are not those which have less passions and
+more virtues than common souls, but those which have
+larger ambitions.</p>
+
+<p>Of all our virtues one might say what an Italian poet
+has said of the honesty of women, "that it is often
+nothing but an art of pretending to be honest."</p>
+
+<p>Virtues are lost in self-interest, as rivers are in the
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>To the honour of virtue it must be acknowledged that
+the greatest misfortunes befall men from their vices.</p>
+
+<p>When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we
+have left them.</p>
+
+<p>Feebleness is more opposed to vice than virtue is.</p>
+
+<p>What makes the pangs of shame and jealousy so
+sharp is that our vanity cannot help us to support them.</p>
+
+<p>What makes the vanity of other persons so intolerable
+is that it hurts our own.</p>
+
+<p>We have not the courage to say in general that we
+have no defects, and that our enemies have no good
+qualities; but in matters of detail we are not very far
+from believing it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span>
+If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others
+Would not injure us.</p>
+
+<p>We sometimes think we dislike flattery; we only dislike
+the way in which we are flattered.</p>
+
+<p>Flattery is a kind of bad money to which our vanity
+gives currency.</p>
+
+<p>Self-love, as it happens to be well or ill-conducted,
+constitutes virtue and vice.</p>
+
+<p>We are so prepossessed in our own favour that we
+often mistake for virtues those vices that bear some
+resemblance to them, and are artfully disguised by self-love.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing is so capable of lessening our self-love as the
+observation that we disapprove at one time what we
+approve at another.</p>
+
+<p>Self-love is the love of self, and of everything for the
+sake of self. When fortune gives the means, self-love
+makes men idolise themselves and tyrannise over others.
+It never rests or fixes itself anywhere outside its home.
+If it settle on external things, it is only as the bee does
+on flowers, to extract what may be serviceable. Nothing
+is so impetuous as its desires, nothing so secret as its
+designs, nothing so adroit as its conduct. We can neither
+fathom the depth, nor penetrate the obscurity of its
+abyss. There, concealed from the most piercing eye,
+it makes numberless turnings and windings; there is it
+often invisible even to itself; there it conceives, breeds,
+and cherishes, without being aware of it, an infinity of
+likings and hatreds; some of which are so monstrous
+that, having given birth to them, self-love either does not
+recognize them, or cannot bear to own them. From the
+darkness which covers self-love spring the ridiculous
+notions which it entertains of itself; thence its errors,
+ignorance, and silly mistakes; thence it imagines that its
+feelings are dead when they are but asleep; and thinks
+that it has lost all appetite when it is for the moment
+sated.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span>
+But the thick mist which hides it from itself does not
+hinder it from seeing perfectly whatever is without; and
+thus it resembles the eye, that sees all things except
+itself. In great concerns and important affairs, where
+the violence of its desire excites its whole attention, it
+sees, perceives, understands, invents, suspects, penetrates,
+and divines all things; so that one is tempted to
+believe that each of its passions has its peculiar magic.</p>
+
+<p>Its desires are inflamed by itself rather than by the
+beauty and merit of the objects; its own taste heightens
+and embellishes them; itself is the game it pursues, and
+its own inclination is what is followed rather than the
+things which seem to be the objects of its inclination.
+Composed of contrarieties, it is imperious and obedient,
+sincere and hypocritical, merciful and cruel, timid and
+bold. Its desires tend, according to the diverse moods
+that direct it, sometimes to glory, sometimes to wealth,
+sometimes to pleasure. These are changed as age and
+experience alter; and whether it has many inclinations
+or only one is a matter of indifference, because it can
+split itself into many or collect itself into one just as is
+convenient or agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>It is inconstant; and numberless are the changes, besides
+those which happen from external causes, which
+proceed from its own nature. Inconstant through
+levity, through love, through novelty, through satiety,
+through disgust, through inconstancy itself. Capricious;
+and sometimes labouring with eagerness and incredible
+pains to obtain things that are in no way advantageous,
+nay, even hurtful, but which are pursued merely as a
+passion. Whimsical, and often exerting intense application
+in the most trifling employments; taking delight in
+the most insipid things, and preserving all its haughtiness
+in the most contemptible pursuits. Attendant on all
+ages and conditions; living everywhere; living on everything;
+living on nothing. Easy in either the enjoyment,
+or privation of things. Going over to those who are at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span>
+variance with it; even entering into their schemes; and,
+wonderful! joining with them, it hates itself; conspires
+its own destruction; labours to be undone; desires only
+to exist; and, that granted, consents to be its own enemy.</p>
+
+<p>We are not therefore to be surprised if sometimes,
+uniting with the most rigid austerity, it enters boldly
+into a combination against itself; because what is lost
+in one respect is regained in another. When we think
+it relinquishes pleasures, it only suspends or changes
+them; and even when discomforted, and we seem to be
+rid of it, we find it triumphant in its own defeat. Such
+is self-love!&mdash;of which man's whole life is only a strong,
+a continued agitation. The sea is a striking image of it,
+and in the flux and reflux of the waves, self-love may
+find a lively expression of the turbulent succession of its
+thoughts, and of its eternal agitation.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_227"><a name="LEONARDO_DA_VINCI" id="LEONARDO_DA_VINCI">LEONARDO DA VINCI</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Treatise on Painting</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Leonardo Da Vinci was born in 1452 at Anchiano, near Vinci,
+in Tuscany, the son of a Florentine notary. Trained in the
+workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, he became one of the greatest
+and most versatile artists of the Renaissance. Indeed, he must
+be considered one of the master-minds of all times, for there
+was scarcely a sphere of human knowledge in which he did not
+excel and surpass his contemporaries. He was not only preeminent
+as painter, sculptor, and architect, but was an accomplished
+musician, poet, and improvisatore, an engineer&mdash;able to
+construct canals, roads, fortifications, ships, and war-engines of
+every description&mdash;an inventor of rare musical instruments, and
+a great organiser of fêtes and pageants. Few of his artistic
+creations have come down to us; but his profound knowledge
+of art and science, and the wide range of his intellect are fully
+revealed in the scattered leaves of his notebooks, which are now
+preserved in the British Museum, the Bibliothèque Nationale in
+Paris, the Ambrosiani in Milan, and other collections. The first
+edition of the "Treatise on Painting" was a compilation from
+these original notes, published at Paris in 1651. Leonardo died
+at Cloux on May 2, 1519.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>From Da Vinci's Notebooks</i></h4>
+
+<p>The eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the
+principal means whereby our intelligence may most fully
+and splendidly comprehend the infinite works of nature;
+and the ear comes next, by gaining importance through
+hearing the things that have been perceived by the eye.
+If you historians or poets, or mathematicians, had not
+seen things with your eyes, badly would you describe
+them in your writings. If you, O poet, call painting
+dumb poetry, the painter might say of the poet's writing
+blind painting. Now consider, which taunt is more
+mordant&mdash;to be called blind or dumb?</p>
+
+<p>If the poet is as free in invention as the painter, yet
+his fiction is not as satisfying to mankind as is painting,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span>
+for whereas poetry endeavours with words to represent
+forms, actions, and scenes, the painter's business is to
+imitate forms with the images of these very forms.
+Take the case of a poet, describing the beauties of a
+woman to her lover, and that of a painter depicting her;
+you will soon see whither nature will attract the enamoured
+judge. And should not the proof of things be
+the verdict of experience?</p>
+
+<p>If you say that poetry is more enduring, I may reply
+that the works of a coppersmith are more enduring still,
+since time has preserved them longer than your works
+or ours; yet they are less imaginative, and painting, if
+done with enamels on copper, can be made far more enduring.
+We, in our art, may be said to be grandsons
+unto God. If you despise painting, which is the sole
+imitator of all the visible works of nature, then you certainly
+despise a subtle invention which, with philosophical
+and ingenious reflection, considers all the properties
+of forms, airs, and scenes, trees, animals, grasses and
+flowers, which are surrounded by light and shade.</p>
+
+<p>And this is a science and the true-born daughter of
+nature, since painting is born of this self-same nature.
+But, in order to speak more correctly, let us call it the
+grandchild of nature, because all visible things are produced
+by nature, and from these same things is born
+painting. Wherefore we may rightly call it the grandchild
+of nature, related to God Himself.</p>
+
+<h4><i>How Sculpture is Less Intellectual</i></h4>
+
+<p>Being sculptor no less than painter, and practising both
+arts in the same degree, it seems to me that I may without
+arrogance pronounce how one of them is more intellectual,
+difficult, and perfect than the other.</p>
+
+<p>Firstly, sculpture is subject to a certain light&mdash;namely,
+from above&mdash;and painting carries everywhere with it light
+and shade. Light and shade are, therefore, the essentials<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span>
+in sculpture. In this respect the sculptor is aided
+by the nature of the relief, which produces these of its
+own accord; the painter introduces them by his art
+where nature would reasonably place them. The sculptor
+cannot reproduce the varying nature of the colours
+of objects; painting lacks nothing in this respect. The
+sculptor's perspectives never seem true, but the painter's
+lead the eye hundreds of miles into the work. Aerial
+perspective is alien to their work. They can neither
+represent transparent nor luminous bodies, neither reflected
+rays nor shiny surfaces like mirrors and similar
+glittering bodies; no mist, no dull sky, nor countless
+other things, which I refrain from mentioning to avoid
+getting wearisome. It has the advantage that it offers
+greater resistance to time, although enamels on copper
+fused in fire have equal power of resistance. Thus
+painting surpasses sculpture even in durability.</p>
+
+<p>Were you to speak only of painting on panels, I should
+be content to give the verdict against sculpture by saying:
+Whilst painting is more beautiful, more imaginative,
+and more resourceful, sculpture is more durable;
+and this is all that can be said for it. It reveals with
+little effort what it is. Painting seems a miraculous
+thing, making things intangible appear tangible, presenting
+flat objects in relief, and distant near at hand. Indeed,
+painting is adorned with endless possibilities that
+are not used by sculpture.</p>
+
+<p>Painters fight and compete with nature.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Of the Ten Offices of the Eye</i></h4>
+
+<p>Painting extends over all the ten offices of the eye&mdash;namely,
+darkness, light, body and colour, figure and
+scenery, distance and nearness, movement and repose&mdash;all
+of which offices will be woven through this little work
+of mine. For I will remind the painter by what rule
+and in what manner he shall use his art to imitate all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span>
+these things, the work of nature and the ornament of
+the world.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Rule for Beginners in Painting</i></h4>
+
+<p>We know clearly that sight is one of the swiftest
+actions in existence, perceiving in one moment countless
+forms. Nevertheless, it cannot comprehend more than
+one thing at a time. Suppose, for instance, you, reader,
+were to cast a single glance upon this entire written
+page and were to decide at once that it is full of different
+letters; but you will not be able to recognize in this
+space of time either what letters they are or what they
+purport to say. Therefore, you must take word by word,
+verse by verse, in order to gain knowledge from these letters.
+Again, if you want to reach the summit of a building,
+you must submit to climbing step by step, else it
+would be impossible for you to reach the top. And so I
+say to you, whom nature inclines to this art, if you would
+have a true knowledge of the form of things, begin with
+their details, and don't pass on to the second before the
+first is well fixed in your memory, else you will waste
+your time.</p>
+
+<p>Perspective is the rein and rudder of painting.</p>
+
+<p>I say whatever is forced within a border is more
+difficult than what is free. Shadows have in certain
+degrees their borders, and he who ignores them cannot
+obtain roundness, which roundness is the essence and soul
+of painting. Drawing is free, since, if you see countless
+faces, they will all be different&mdash;the one has a long, the
+other a short nose. Thus the painter may take this
+liberty, and where is liberty, is no rule.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Precepts for Painting</i></h4>
+
+<p>The painter should endeavour to be universal, because
+he is lacking in dignity if he do one thing well and another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span>
+thing badly, like so many who only study the well-proportionate
+nude and not its variations, because a man
+may be proportionate and yet be short and stout, or long
+and thin. And he who does not bear in mind these
+variations will get his figures stereotyped, so that they
+all seem to be brothers and sisters, which deserves to be
+censured severely.</p>
+
+<p>Let the sketching of histories be swift and the articulation
+not too perfect. Be satisfied with suggesting the
+position of the limbs, which you may afterwards carry
+to completion at your leisure and as you please.</p>
+
+<p>Methinks it is no small grace in a painter if he give
+a pleasing air to his figures, a grace which, if it be not
+one's own by nature, may be acquired by study, as follows.
+Try to take the best parts from many beautiful
+faces, whose beauty is affirmed by public fame rather
+than by your own judgment, for you may deceive yourself
+by taking faces which resemble your own. For it
+would often seem that such similarities please us; and
+if you were ugly you would not select beautiful faces,
+and you would make ugly ones, like many painters whose
+types often resemble their master. Therefore, take
+beautiful features, as I tell you, and commit them to your
+memory.</p>
+
+<p>Monstrous is he who has a very large head and short
+legs, and monstrous he who with rich garments has great
+poverty; therefore we shall call him well proportioned
+whose every part corresponds with his whole.</p>
+
+<h4><i>On the Choice of Light</i></h4>
+
+<p>If you had a courtyard, which you could cover at will
+with a canvas awning, this light would be good; or when
+you wish to paint somebody, paint him in bad weather,
+or at the hour of dusk, placing the sitter with his back
+to one of the walls of this courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>Observe in the streets at the fall of the evening the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span>
+faces of men and women when it is bad weather, what
+grace and sweetness then appear to be theirs.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, you should have a courtyard, prepared
+with walls painted in black, and with the roof projecting
+a little over the said wall. And it should be ten <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">braccia</i>
+[ten fathoms] in width, and twenty in length and ten in
+height; and when the sun shines you should cover it
+over with the awning, or you should paint an hour before
+evening, when it is cloudy or misty. For this is the most
+perfect light.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Of the Gesture of Figures</i></h4>
+
+<p>You should give your figures such movement as will
+suffice to show what is passing in the mind of the figure;
+else your art would not be praiseworthy. A figure is
+not worthy of praise if it do not express by some gesture
+the passion of the soul. That figure is most worthy of
+praise which best expresses by its gesture the passion of
+its nature.</p>
+
+<p>If you have to represent an honest man talking, see
+that his action be companion to his good words; and
+again, if you have to depict a bestial man, give him wild
+movements&mdash;his arms thrown towards the spectator, and
+his head pressed towards his chest, his legs apart.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Judgment of Painting</i></h4>
+
+<p>We know well that mistakes are more easily detected
+in the works of others than in one's own, and often,
+while censuring the small faults of others, you do not
+recognise your own great faults. In order to escape
+such ignorance, have a care that you be, above all,
+sure of your perspective; then acquire full knowledge
+of the proportions of man and other animals. And,
+moreover, be a good architect; that is, in so far as it
+is necessary for the form of the buildings and other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span>
+things that are upon the earth, and that are infinitely
+varied in form.</p>
+
+<p>The more knowledge you have of these, the more
+worthy of praise will be your work. And for those
+things in which you have no practice, do not disdain to
+copy from nature. When you are painting, you should
+take a flat mirror and often look at your work within
+it. It will be seen in reverse, and will appear to be by
+some other master, and you will be better able to judge
+of its faults than in any other way. It is also a good
+plan every now and then to go away and have a little
+relaxation, for then, when you come back to the work,
+your judgment will be surer, since to remain constantly
+at work will cause you to lose the power of judgment.</p>
+
+<p>Surely, while one paints one should not reject any
+man's judgment; for we know very well that a man,
+even if he be no painter, has knowledge of the forms of
+another man, and will judge aright whether he is hump-backed,
+or has one shoulder too high or too low, or
+whether he has too large a mouth or nose, or other
+faults; and if we are able rightly to judge the work of
+nature in men, how much more is it fit to admit that they
+are able to judge our mistakes.</p>
+
+<p>You know how much man may be deceived about his
+own works, and if you do not know it of yourself, observe
+it in others, and you will derive benefit from other
+people's mistakes. Therefore, you should be eager to
+listen patiently to the views of other men and consider
+and reflect carefully whether he who finds fault is right
+or not in blaming you. If you find that he is right, correct
+your work; but if not, pretend not to have understood
+him; or show him, if he be a man whom you respect,
+by sound argument, why it is that he is mistaken
+in finding fault.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>Do Not Disdain to Work from Nature</i></h4>
+
+<p>A master who let it be understood that his mind could
+retain all the forms and effects of nature, I should certainly
+hold to be endowed with great ignorance, since
+the said effects are infinite, and our memory is not of
+such capacity as to suffice thereto. Therefore, O painter,
+see that the greed for gain do not outweigh within you
+the honour of art, for to gain in honour is a far greater
+thing than to be honoured for wealth.</p>
+
+<p>For these and other reasons that might be adduced,
+you should endeavour first to demonstrate to the eye,
+by means of drawing, a suggestion of the intention and
+of the invention originated first by your imagination.
+Then proceed, taking from it or adding to it, until you
+are satisfied with it. Then have men arranged as models,
+draped or nude, in the manner in which they are disposed
+in your work, and make the proportions and size
+in accordance with perspective, so that no part of the
+work remains that is not counselled by reason as well
+as by nature.</p>
+
+<p>And this will be the way to make you honoured
+through your art. First of all, copy drawings by a
+good master made by his art from nature, and not as
+exercises; then from a relief, keeping by you a drawing
+done from the same relief; then from a good model, and
+of this you ought to make a general practice.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Of the Painter's Life in His Study</i></h4>
+
+<p>The painter or draughtsman should be solitary, so that
+physical comfort may not injure the thriving of the
+mind, especially when he is occupied with the observations
+and considerations which ever offer themselves to
+his eye and provide material to be treasured up by the
+memory. If you are alone, you belong wholly to yourself;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span>
+and if you are accompanied even by one companion,
+you belong only half to yourself; and if you are
+with several of them, you will be even more subject to
+such inconveniences.</p>
+
+<p>And if you should say, "I shall take my own course,
+I shall keep apart, so that I may be the better able to
+contemplate the forms of natural objects," then I reply,
+this cannot well be, because you cannot help frequently
+lending your ear to their gossip; and since nobody can
+serve two masters at once, you will badly fulfil your
+duties as companion, and you will have worse success in
+artistic contemplation. And if you should say, "I shall
+keep so far apart that their words cannot reach me or
+disturb me," then I reply in this case that you will be
+looked upon as mad. And do you not perceive that,
+in acting thus, you would really be solitary?</p>
+
+<h4><i>Of Ways to Represent Various Scenes</i></h4>
+
+<p>A man in despair you should make turning his knife
+against himself. He should have rent his garments, and
+he should be in the act of tearing open his wound with
+one hand. And you should make him with his feet apart
+and his legs somewhat bent, and the whole figure likewise
+bending to the ground, with dishevelled and untidy hair.</p>
+
+<p>As a rule, he whom you wish to represent talking to
+many people will consider the subject of which he has
+to treat, and will fit his gestures to this subject&mdash;that is
+to say, if the subject is persuasion, the gestures should
+serve this intention; if the subject is explanation by
+various reasons, he who speaks should take a finger of
+his left hand between two fingers of his right, keeping
+the two smaller ones pressed together; his face should
+be animated and turned towards the people, his mouth
+slightly opened, so that he seems to be talking. And
+if he is seated, let him seem to be in the act of slightly
+raising himself, with his head forward; and if he is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span>
+standing, make him lean forward a little, with his head
+towards the people, whom you should represent silent and
+attentive, all watching, with gestures of admiration, the
+orator's face. Some old men should have their mouths
+drawn down at the corners in astonishment at what they
+hear, drawing back the cheeks in many furrows, and
+raising their eyebrows where they meet, so as to produce
+many wrinkles on their foreheads. Some who are seated
+should hold their tired knees between the interlaced
+fingers of their hands, and others should cross one knee
+over the other, and place upon it one hand, so that its
+hollow supports the other elbow, whose hand again supports
+the bearded chin.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever is wholly deprived of light is complete darkness.
+Night being in this condition, if you wish to represent
+a scene therein, you must contrive to have a great
+fire in this night, and everything that is in closer proximity
+to this fire will assume more of its colour, because
+the nearer a thing is to another object, the more it partakes
+of its nature. And since you will make the fire
+incline towards a red colour, you will have to give a reddish
+tinge to all things lighted by it, and those which are
+farther away from the fire will have to hold more of the
+black colour of night. The figures which are between
+you and the fire appear dark against the brightness of
+the flame, for that part of the object which you perceive
+is coloured by the darkness of night, and not by the brightness
+of the fire; and those which flank the fire will be
+half dark and half reddish. Those which are behind
+the flames will be altogether illuminated by a reddish
+light against the black background.</p>
+
+<p>If you wish to represent a tempest properly, observe
+and set down the effects of the wind blowing over the face
+of the sea and of the land, raising and carrying away
+everything that is not firmly rooted in the general mass.
+And in order properly to represent this tempest, you
+should first of all show the riven and torn clouds swept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span>
+along by the wind, together with the sandy dust blown
+up from the seashore, and with branches and leaves
+caught up and scattered through the air, together with
+many other light objects, by the power of the furious
+wind. The trees and shrubs, bent to the ground, seem to
+desire to follow the direction of the wind, with branches
+twisted out of their natural growth, and their foliage
+tossed and inverted.</p>
+
+<p>Of the men who are present, some who are thrown
+down and entangled with their garments and covered
+with dust should be almost unrecognisable; and those
+who are left standing may be behind some tree which
+they embrace, so that the storm should not carry them
+off. Others, bent down, their garments and hair streaming
+in the wind, should hold their hands before their
+eyes because of the dust.</p>
+
+<p>Let the turbulent and tempestuous sea be covered with
+eddying foam between the rising waves, and let the wind
+carry fine spray into the stormy air to resemble a thick
+and all-enveloping mist. Of the ships that are there,
+show some with rent sails, whose shreds should flap in
+the air, together with some broken halyards; masts
+splintered, tumbled, with the ship itself broken by the
+fury of the waves; some human beings, shrieking, and
+clinging to the wreckage of the vessel. You should show
+the clouds, chased by the impetuous wind, hurled against
+the high tops of the mountains, wreathing and eddying
+like waves that beat against the cliffs. The air should
+strike terror through the murky darkness caused by the
+dust, the mist, and the heavy clouds.</p>
+
+<h4><i>To Learn to Work from Memory</i></h4>
+
+<p>If you want properly to commit to your memory something
+that you have learnt, proceed in this manner&mdash;namely,
+when you have drawn one object so often that
+you believe you can remember it, try to draw it without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span>
+the model, after having traced your model on a thin sheet
+of glass. This glass you will then lay upon the drawing
+which you have made without model. Observe well
+where the tracing does not tally with your drawing, and
+wherever you find that you have gone wrong, you must
+remember not to go wrong again. You should even
+return to the model, in order again to draw the wrong
+passage until it shall be fixed in your memory. And if
+you have no level sheet of glass for tracing, take a very
+thin sheet of goat-parchment, well oiled, and then dried.
+And after the tracing has done service for your drawing,
+you can efface it with a sponge and use it again for
+another tracing.</p>
+
+<h4><i>On Studying in Bed</i></h4>
+
+<p>I have experienced upon myself that it is of no small
+benefit if, when you are in bed, you apply your imagination
+to repeating the superficial lines of the forms which
+you have been studying, or to other remarkable things
+which are comprehensible to a fine intellect. This is a
+praiseworthy and useful action which will help you to
+fix things in your memory.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_239"><a name="GOTTHOLD_EPHRAIM_LESSING" id="GOTTHOLD_EPHRAIM_LESSING">GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Laocoon</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>In 1766, while acting as secretary to the governor of Breslau,
+Lessing wrote his celebrated "Laocoon," a critical treatise defining
+the limits of poetry and the plastic arts. The epitome
+given here has been prepared from the German text. A short
+biographical sketch of Lessing appears in the introduction to
+his play, "Nathan the Wise," appearing in Volume XVII of <span class="smcap">The
+World's Greatest Books</span>.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;On the Limits of Painting and Poetry</i></h4>
+
+<p>Winkelman has pronounced a noble simplicity and
+quiet grandeur, displayed in the posture no less than in
+the expression, to be the characteristic feature common to
+all the Greek masterpieces of painting and sculpture.
+"As," says he, "the depths of the sea always remain
+calm, however violently the surface may rage, so the expression
+in the figures of the Greeks, under every form
+of passion, shows a great and self-collected soul.</p>
+
+<p>"This spirit is portrayed in the countenance of Laocoon,
+but not in the countenance alone. Even under
+the most violent suffering the pain discovers itself in
+every muscle and sinew of his body, and the beholder,
+while looking at the agonised conditions of the stomach,
+without viewing the face and other parts, believes that
+he almost feels the pain himself. The pain expresses
+itself without any violence, both in the features and in
+the whole posture. Laocoon suffers, but he suffers as
+the Philoctetes of Sophocles. His misery pierces us to
+the very soul, but inspires us with a wish that we could
+endure misery like that great man.</p>
+
+<p>"The expressing of so great a soul is far higher than
+the painting of beautiful nature. The artist must feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span>
+within himself that strength of spirit which he would
+imprint on his marble. Greece had philosophers and
+artists in one person. Philosophy gave her hand to art,
+and inspired its figures with no ordinary souls."</p>
+
+<p>The above remarks are founded on the argument that
+"the pain in the face of Laocoon does not show itself
+with that force which its intensity would have led us to
+expect." This is correct. But I confess I differ from
+Winkelman as to what, in his opinion, is the basis of this
+wisdom, and as to the universality of the rule which he
+deduces from it. I acknowledge I was startled, first by
+the glances of disapproval which he casts on Virgil, and,
+secondly, by the comparison with Philoctetes. From
+this point I shall begin, writing down my thoughts as
+they were developed in me.</p>
+
+<p>"Laocoon suffers as does the Philoctetes of
+Sophocles." But how does this last suffer? It is curious
+that his sufferings should leave such a different impression
+behind them. The cries and mild imprecations
+with which he filled the camp and interrupted the sacrifices
+echoed through the desolate island. The same
+sounds of despair fill the theatre in the poet's imitation.</p>
+
+<p>A cry is the natural expression of bodily pain.
+Homer's wounded heroes frequently fall to the ground
+with cries. They are in their actions beings of higher
+order; in their feelings, true men.</p>
+
+<p>We more civilised and refined Europeans of a wiser
+and later age are forbidden to cry and weep, and even
+our ancestors were taught to suppress lamentation at
+loss, and to die laughing under the bites of adders. Not
+so the Greeks. They felt and feared, and gave utterance
+to pain and sorrow, only nothing must hold them
+back from duty.</p>
+
+<p>Now for my inference. If it be true that, a cry at the
+sensation of bodily pain, according to the old Greek
+way of thinking, is quite compatible with greatness of
+soul, it cannot have been for the sake of expressing such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span>
+greatness that the artist avoided imitating his shriek in
+marble. Another reason must be found for his deviation
+from his rival, the poet, who has expressed it with
+the happiest results.</p>
+
+<p>Be it fable or history, it is love that made the first
+essay in the plastic arts, and never wearied of guiding
+the hands of the masters of old. Painting now may be
+defined generally as "the imitation of bodies of matter on
+a level surface"; but the wise Greek allotted for it narrower
+limits, and confined it to imitations of the beautiful
+only; his artists painted nothing else. It was the perfection
+of their work that absorbed them. Among the ancients
+beauty was the highest law of the plastic arts. To
+beauty everything was subordinated. There are passions
+by which all beautiful physical lines are lost
+through the distortion of the body, but from all such
+emotions the ancient masters abstained entirely. Rage
+and despair disgrace none of their productions, and I
+dare maintain that they never painted a fury.</p>
+
+<p>Indignation was softened down to seriousness. Grief
+was lessened into mournfulness. All know how Timanthes
+in his painting of the sacrifice of Iphigenia shows
+the sorrow of the bystanders, but has concealed the face
+of the father, who should show it more than all. He
+left to conjecture what he might not paint. This concealment
+is a sacrifice to beauty by the artist, and it
+shows how art's first law is the law of beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Now apply this to Laocoon. The master aimed at the
+highest beauty compatible with the adopted circumstances
+of bodily pain. He must soften shrieks into sighs. For
+only imagine the mouth of Laocoon to be forced open,
+and then judge.</p>
+
+<p>But art in modern times has been allowed a far wider
+sphere. It has been affirmed that its limitations extend
+over the whole of visible nature, of which the beautiful
+is but a small part. And as nature is ever ready to
+sacrifice beauty to higher aims, so should the artist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>
+render it subordinate to his general design. But are
+there not other considerations which compel the artist
+to put certain limits to expression, and prevent him
+from ever drawing it at its highest intensity?</p>
+
+<p>I believe that the fact that it is to a single moment that
+the material limits of art confine all its limitations, will
+lead us to similar views.</p>
+
+<p>If the artist out of ever-varying nature can only make
+use of a single moment, while his works are meant to
+stand the test not only of a passing glance, but of a long
+and repeated contemplation, it is clear that this moment
+cannot be chosen too happily. Now that only is a happy
+choice which allows the imagination free scope. In
+the whole course of a feeling there is no moment which
+possesses this advantage so little as its highest stage.
+There is nothing beyond this, and the presentation of extremes
+to the eye clips the wings of fancy, prevents her
+from soaring beyond the impression of the senses, and
+compels her to occupy herself with weaker images. Thus
+if Laocoon sighs, the imagination can hear him shriek;
+but if he shrieks, it can neither rise above nor descend
+below this representation without seeing him in a condition
+which, as it will be more endurable, becomes less
+interesting. It either hears him merely moaning, or
+sees him already dead.</p>
+
+<p>Of the frenzied Ajax of Timomachus we can form
+some judgment from the account of Philoctetes. Ajax
+does not appear raging among herds and slaughtering
+cattle instead of men; but the master exhibits him sitting
+wearied with these deeds of insanity, and that is really
+the raging Ajax. We can form the most lively idea of
+the extremity of his frenzy from the shame and despair
+which he himself feels at the thought of it. We see
+the storm in the wrecks and corpses which it had strewn
+on the beach.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The Poet</i></h4>
+
+<p>Perhaps hardly any of the above remarks concerning
+the necessary limits of the artist would be found equally
+applicable to poetry. It is undeniable that the whole
+realm of the perfectly excellent lies open to the imitation
+of the poet, that excellence of outward form which we
+call beauty being only one of the least of the means
+by which he can interest us in his characters.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, the poet is not compelled to concentrate his
+picture into a single moment. He can take up every
+action of his hero at its source, and pursue it to its issue
+through all possible variations. Each of these, which
+would cost the artist a separate work, costs the poet but
+a single trait. What wonderful skill has Sophocles
+shown in strengthening and enlarging, in his tragedy of
+Philoctetes, the idea of bodily pain! He chose a wound,
+and not an internal malady, because the former admits
+of a more lively representation than the latter. This
+wound was, moreover, a punishment divinely decreed.
+But to the Greeks a wound from a poisoned arrow was
+but an ordinary incident. Why, then, in the case of
+Philoctetes only was it followed by such dreadful consequences?</p>
+
+<p>Sophocles felt full well that, however great he made
+the bodily pain to his hero, it would not have sufficed of
+itself to excite any remarkable degree of sympathy. He
+therefore combined it with other evils&mdash;the complete
+lack of society, hunger, and all the hardships to which
+such a man under terrible privations is exposed when
+cast on a wild, deserted isle of the Cyclades.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine, now, a man in these conditions, but give him
+health and strength and industry, and he becomes a
+Crusoe, whose lot, though not indifferent to us, has no
+great claim on our sympathy. On the other hand, imagine
+a man afflicted by a painful and incurable disease,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span>
+but at the same time surrounded by kind friends. For
+him we should feel sympathy, yet this would not endure
+throughout. Only when both cases are combined do we
+see nothing but despair, which excites our amazement
+and horror. Typical beauty arises from the harmonious
+effect of numerous parts, all of which the sight is capable
+of comprehending at the same time. It requires, therefore,
+that these parts should lie near each other; and
+since things whose parts lie near each other are the
+peculiar objects of plastic beauty, these it is, and these
+only, which can imitate typical beauty. The poet, since
+he can only exhibit in succession its component parts,
+entirely abstains from the description of typical beauty.
+He feels that these parts, ranged one after the other,
+cannot possibly have the effect they produce when closely
+arranged together.</p>
+
+<p>In this respect Homer is a pattern of patterns. He
+says Nireus was beautiful, Achilles still more so, Helen
+was endowed with divine beauty. But nowhere does
+he enter on a detailed sketch of these beauties, and yet
+the whole Iliad is based on the loveliness of Helen.</p>
+
+<p>In this point, in which he can imitate Homer by merely
+doing nothing, Virgil is also tolerably happy. His
+heroine Dido, too, is never anything more than <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">pulcherrima</i>
+Dido (loveliest Dido). When he wishes to be more
+circumstantial, he is so in the description of her rich dress
+and apparel.</p>
+
+<p>Lucian, also, was too acute to convey any idea of the
+body of Panthea otherwise than by reference to the
+most lovely female statues of the old artists.</p>
+
+<p>Yet what is this but the acknowledgment that language
+by itself is here without power; that poetry falters
+and eloquence grows speechless unless art in some
+measure serve them as an interpreter?</p>
+
+<p>But, it will be said, does not poetry lose too much if we
+deprive her of all objects of typical beauty? Who
+would deprive her of them? Because we would debar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>
+her from wandering among the footsteps of her sister
+art, without ever reaching the same goal as she, do we
+exclude her from every other, where art in her turn must
+gaze after her steps with fruitless longings?</p>
+
+<p>Even Homer, who so pointedly abstains from all
+detailed descriptions of typical beauties, from whom we
+but just learn that Helen had white arms and lovely
+hair, even he, with all this, knew how to convey to us
+an idea of her beauty which far exceeds anything that
+art is able to accomplish.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Beauty and Charm</i></h4>
+
+<p>Again, another means which poetry possesses of rivalling
+art in the description of typical beauty is the change
+of beauty into charm. Charm is beauty in motion, and is
+for this very reason less suitable to the painter than to
+the poet. The painter can only leave motion to conjecture,
+while in fact his figures are motionless. Consequently,
+with him charm becomes grimace.</p>
+
+<p>But in poetry it remains what it is, a transitory beauty
+which we would gladly see repeated. It comes and goes,
+and since we can generally recall to our minds a movement
+more easily and vividly than forms or colours,
+charm necessarily in the same circumstances produces a
+stronger effect than beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Zeuxis painted a Helen, and had the courage to write
+below the picture those renowned lines of Homer in
+which the enraptured elders confess their sensations.
+Never had painting and poetry been engaged in such
+contest. The contest remained undecided, and both deserved
+the crown.</p>
+
+<p>For just as a wise poet showed us the beauty which
+he felt he could not paint according to its constituent
+parts, but merely in its effect, so the no less wise painter
+showed us that beauty by nothing but those parts, deeming
+it unbecoming for his art to resort to any other means<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span>
+for aid. His picture consisted of a single figure, undraped,
+of Helen, probably the one painted for the people
+of Crotona.</p>
+
+<p>In beauty a single unbecoming part may disturb the
+harmonious effect of many, without the object necessarily
+becoming ugly. For ugliness, too, requires several unbecoming
+parts, all of which we must be able to comprehend
+at the same view before we experience sensations
+the opposite of those which beauty produces.</p>
+
+<p>According to this, therefore, ugliness in its essence
+could be no subject of poetry; yet Homer has painted
+extreme ugliness in Thersites, and this ugliness is described
+according to its parts near each other. Why in
+the case of ugliness did he allow himself the license from
+which he had abstained in that of beauty? A successive
+enumeration of the elements of beauty will annihilate
+its effects. Will not a similar cause produce a similar
+effect in the case of ugliness?</p>
+
+<p>Undoubtedly it will; but it is in this very fact that the
+justification of Homer lies. The poet can only take
+advantage of ugliness so far as it is reduced in his description
+into the less repugnant appearance of bodily
+imperfection, and ceases, as it were, in point of effect, to
+be ugliness. Thus, what he cannot make use of by itself
+he can use as the ingredient for the purpose of producing
+and strengthening certain mixed sensations.</p>
+
+<p>These mixed feelings are the ridiculous and the horrible.
+Homer makes Thersites ugly in order to make
+him ridiculous. He is not made so, however, merely by
+his ugliness, for ugliness is an imperfection, and the contrast
+of perfection with imperfections is required to
+produce the ridiculous. To this I may add that the contrast
+must not be too sharp and glaring, and that the
+contrasts must blend into each other.</p>
+
+<p>The wise and virtuous Æsop does not become ridiculous
+because of ugliness attributed to him. For his
+misshapen body and beautiful mind are as oil and vinegar;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span>
+however much you shake them together, they always
+remain distinct to the taste. They will not amalgamate
+to produce a third quality. The body produces annoyance;
+the soul, pleasure; each has its own effect.</p>
+
+<p>It is only when the deformed body is also fragile and,
+sickly, when it impedes the soul, that the annoyance and
+pleasure melt into each other.</p>
+
+<p>For, let us suppose that the instigations of the malicious
+and snarling Thersites had resulted in mutiny, that the
+people had forsaken their leaders and departed in the
+ships, and that these leaders had been massacred by a
+revengeful foe. How would the ugliness of Thersites
+appear then? If ugliness, when harmless, may be ridiculous,
+when hurtful it is always horrible. In Shakespeare's
+"King Lear," Edmund, the bastard Count of
+Gloucester, is no less a villain than Richard, Duke of
+Gloucester, in "King Richard III." How is it, then, that
+the first excites our loathing so much less than the second?
+It is because when I hear the former, I listen to
+a devil, but see him as an angel of light; but in listening
+to Richard I hear a devil and see a devil.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_248"><a name="JOHN_STUART_MILL" id="JOHN_STUART_MILL">JOHN STUART MILL</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Essay on Liberty</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Ten years elapsed between the publication of "Political Economy"
+(see Vol. XIV, p. 294) and the "Essay on Liberty," Mill
+in the meantime (1851) having married Mrs. John Taylor, a lady
+who exercised no small influence on his philosophical position.
+The seven years of his married life saw little or nothing from
+his pen. The "Essay on Liberty," in many respects the most
+carefully prepared of all his books, appeared in 1859, the year
+following the death of his wife, in collaboration with whom it
+was thought out and partly written. The treatise goes naturally
+with that on "Utilitarianism." Both are succinct and incisive in
+their reasoning, and both are grounded on similar sociological
+principles. Perhaps the primary problem of politics in all ages
+has been the reconciliation of individual and social interests; and
+at the present day, when the problem appears to be particularly
+troublesome, Mill's view of the situation is of especial value.
+In recent time, legislation has certainly tended to become more
+socialistic, and the doctrine of individual liberty promulgated
+in this "Essay" has a most interesting relevancy to modern
+social movements.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Liberty of Thought and Discussion</i></h4>
+
+<p>Protection against popular government is as indispensable
+as protection against political despotism. The
+people may desire to oppress a part of their number, and
+precautions are needed against this as against any other
+abuse of power. So much will be readily granted by
+most, and yet no attempt has been made to find the fitting
+adjustment between individual independence and social
+control.</p>
+
+<p>The object of this essay is to assert the simple principle
+that the sole end for which mankind are warranted,
+individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty
+of action of any of their number is self-protection&mdash;that
+the only purpose for which power can be rightfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span>
+exercised over any member of a civilised community,
+against his will, is to prevent harm to others, either by
+his action or inaction. The only part of the conduct of
+anyone for which he is amenable to society is that which
+concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself,
+his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself,
+over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>This principle requires, firstly, liberty of conscience in
+the most comprehensive sense, liberty of thought and
+feeling; absolute freedom of opinion and sentiment on
+all subjects, practical or speculative, scientific, moral, or
+theological&mdash;the liberty even of publishing and expressing
+opinions. Secondly, the principle requires liberty of
+tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to
+suit our own character; of doing as we like, so long as we
+do not harm our fellow-creatures. Thirdly, the principle
+requires liberty of combination among individuals
+for any purpose not involving harm to others, provided
+the persons are of full age and not forced or deceived.</p>
+
+<p>The only freedom which deserves the name is that
+of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we
+do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede
+their efforts to obtain it. Mankind gains more by suffering
+each other to live as seems good to themselves
+than by compelling each to live as seems good to the
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>Coercion in matters of thought and discussion must
+always be illegitimate. If all mankind save one were of
+one opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing
+the solitary individual than he, if he had the power,
+would be justified in silencing mankind. The peculiar
+evil of silencing the expression of opinion is that it is
+robbing the whole human race, present and future&mdash;those
+who dissent from the opinion even more than those who
+hold it. For if the opinion is right, they are deprived
+of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span>
+if wrong, they lose the clear and livelier impression of
+truth produced by its collision with error.</p>
+
+<p>All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility,
+and, as all history teaches, neither communities
+nor individuals are infallible. Men cannot be too often
+reminded of the condemnation of Socrates and of Christ,
+and of the persecution of the Christians by the noble-minded
+Marcus Aurelius.</p>
+
+<p>Enemies of religious freedom maintain that persecution
+is a good thing, for, even though it makes mistakes,
+it will root out error while it cannot extirpate truth. But
+history shows that even if truth cannot be finally extirpated,
+it may at least be put back centuries.</p>
+
+<p>We no longer put heretics to death; but we punish
+heresies with a social stigma almost as effective, since
+it may debar men from earning their bread. Social intolerance
+does not actually eradicate heresies, but it induces
+men to hide unpopular opinions. The result is
+that new and heretical opinions smoulder in the narrow
+circles of thinking and studious persons who originate
+them, and never light up the general affairs of mankind
+with either a true or deceptive light. The price paid for
+intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral
+courage of the human race. Who can compute what the
+world loses in the multitude of promising intellects too
+timid to follow out any bold, independent train of
+thought lest it might be considered irreligious or immoral?
+No one can be a great thinker who does not follow
+his intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. In
+a general atmosphere of mental slavery a few great
+thinkers may survive, but in such an atmosphere there
+never has been, and never will be, an intellectually active
+people; and all progress in the human mind and in human
+institutions may be traced to periods of mental
+emancipation.</p>
+
+<p>Even if an opinion be indubitably true and undoubtingly
+believed, it will be a dead dogma, and not a living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span>
+truth, if it be not fully, frequently, and fearlessly discussed.
+If the cultivation of the understanding consists
+of one thing more than another, it is surely in learning
+the grounds of one's own opinions, and these can
+only be fully learned by facing the arguments that favour
+the opposite opinions. He who knows only his own
+side of the case knows little of that. Unless he knows
+the difficulties which his truth has to encounter and
+conquer, he knows little of the force of his truth. Not
+only are the grounds of an opinion unformed or forgotten
+in the absence of discussion, but too often the very
+meaning of the opinion. When the mind is not compelled
+to exercise its powers on the questions which its
+belief presents to it, there is a progressive tendency to
+forget all of the belief except the formularies, until it
+almost ceases to connect itself at all with the inner life
+of the human being. In such cases a creed merely stands
+sentinel at the entrance of the mind and heart to keep
+them empty, as is so often seen in the case of the Christian
+creed as at present professed.</p>
+
+<p>So far we have considered only two possibilities&mdash;that
+the received opinion may be false and some other opinion
+consequently true, or that, the received opinion being
+true, a conflict with the opposite error is essential to a
+clear apprehension and deep feeling of the truth. But
+there is a commoner case still, when conflicting doctrines
+share the truth, and when the heretical doctrine completes
+the orthodox. Every opinion which embodies
+somewhat of the portion of the truth which the common
+opinion omits, ought to be considered precious with whatever
+amount of error and confusion it may be conjoined.
+In politics, again, it is almost a commonplace that a party
+of order or stability, and a party of progress or reform,
+are both necessary factors in a healthy political life.
+Unless opinions favourable to democracy and to aristocracy,
+to property, and to equality, to co-operation and to
+competition, to sociality and to individuality, to liberty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span>
+and to discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms
+of practical life are expressed with equal freedom, and
+enforced and defended with equal talent and energy,
+there is no chance of both elements obtaining their due.
+Truth is usually reached only by the rough process of
+a struggle between combatants fighting under hostile
+banners.</p>
+
+<p>It may be objected, "But <em>some</em> received principles,
+especially on the highest and most vital subjects, are
+more than half-truths." This objection is not sound.
+Even the Christian morality is, in many important points,
+incomplete and one-sided, and unless ideas and feelings
+not sanctioned by it had constituted to the formation of
+European life and character, human affairs would have
+been in a worse condition than they now are.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Individuality as One of the Elements of Well-Being</i></h4>
+
+<p>We have seen that opinions should be freely formed
+and freely expressed. How about <em>actions</em>? If a man
+refrains from molesting others in what concerns him,
+and merely acts according to his own inclination and
+judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons
+which show that opinion should be free prove also
+that he should be allowed to carry his opinions into
+action. As it is useful that while mankind are imperfect
+there should be different opinions, so it is useful
+that there should be different experiments of living, that
+free scope should be given to varieties of character short
+of injury to others, and that the worth of different
+modes of life should be proved practically. It is desirable,
+in short, that in things which do not primarily concern
+others, individuality should assert itself. When,
+not the person's own character, but the traditions or customs
+of other people are the rule of conduct, there is
+wanting one of the principal ingredients of human happiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span>
+and quite the chief ingredient of individual and
+social progress.</p>
+
+<p>No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people
+should do absolutely nothing but copy one another. On
+the other hand, it would be absurd to pretend that people
+ought to live as if experience had as yet done nothing
+towards showing that one mode of existence or of conduct
+is preferable to another. No one denies that people
+should be so taught and trained in youth as to know and
+benefit by the results of human experience. But it is the
+privilege of a mature man to use and interpret experience
+in his own way. He who lets the world, or his own
+portion of it, choose his plan of life for him has no
+need of any other faculty than the ape-like one of imitation.
+He, on the other hand, who chooses his plan for
+himself, employs all his faculties&mdash;reasoning, foresight,
+activity, discrimination, resolution, self-control. We
+wish not automatons, but living, originating men and
+women.</p>
+
+<p>So much will be readily conceded, but nevertheless it
+may be maintained that strong desires and passions are
+a peril and a snare. Yet it is desires and impulses which
+constitute character, and one with no desires and impulses
+of his own has no more character than a steam-engine.
+An energetic character implies strong, spontaneous
+impulses under the control of a strong will; and
+such characters are desirable, since the danger which
+threatens modern society is not excess but deficiency of
+personal impulses and preferences. Everyone nowadays
+asks: what is usually done by persons of my station and
+pecuniary circumstances, or (worse still) what is usually
+done by persons of a station and circumstances superior
+to mine? The consequence is that, through failure
+to follow their own nature, they have no nature to follow;
+their human capacities are withered and starved,
+and are incapable of any strong pleasures or opinions
+properly their own.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span>
+It is not by pruning away the individual but by cultivating
+it wisely that human beings become valuable to
+themselves and to others, and that human life becomes
+rich, diversified, and interesting. Individuality is equivalent
+to development, and in proportion to the latitude
+given to individuality an age becomes noteworthy or the
+reverse.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, the general tendency of things is to
+render mediocrity the ascendant power. At present, individuals
+are lost in the crowd, and it is almost a triviality
+to say that public opinion now rules the world. And
+public opinion is the opinion of collective mediocrity, and
+is expressed by mediocre men. The initiation of all wise
+and noble opinions must come from individuals, and the
+individuality of those who stand on the higher eminences
+of thought is necessary to correct the tendency that
+makes mankind acquiesce in customary and popular
+opinions.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Limits of the Authority of Society Over the
+Individual</i></h4>
+
+<p>Where, then, does the authority of society begin? How
+much of human life should be assigned to individuality,
+and how much to society?</p>
+
+<p>To individuality should belong that part of life in
+which it is chiefly the individual that is interested; to
+society, the part which chiefly interests society.</p>
+
+<p>Society, in return for the protection it affords its
+members, and as a condition of its existence, demands,
+firstly, that its members respect the rights of one another;
+and, secondly, that each person bear his share
+of the labours and sacrifices incurred in defending society
+for its members. Further, society may punish acts
+of an individual hurtful to others, even if not a violation
+of rights, by the force of public opinion.</p>
+
+<p>But in all cases where a person's conduct affects or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span>
+need only affect himself, society may not interfere. Society
+may help individuals in their personal affairs, but
+neither one person, nor any number of persons, is warranted
+in saying to any human creature that he may
+not use his own life, so far as it concerns himself, as he
+pleases. He himself is the final judge of his own concerns,
+and the inconveniences which are strictly inseparable
+from the unfavourable judgment of others are
+the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected
+for that portion of his conduct and character which affects
+his own good, but which does not affect the interests
+of others.</p>
+
+<p>But how, it may be asked, can any part of the conduct
+of a member of society be a matter of indifference
+to the other members?</p>
+
+<p>I fully confess that the mischief which a person does
+to himself may seriously affect those nearly connected
+with him, and even society at large. But such contingent
+and indirect injury should be endured by society
+for the sake of the greater good of human freedom, and
+because any attempt at coercion in private conduct will
+merely produce rebellion on the part of the individual
+coerced. Moreover, when society interferes with purely
+personal conduct, the odds are that it interferes wrongly,
+and in the wrong places, as the pages of history and the
+records of legislation abundantly demonstrate.</p>
+
+<p>Closely connected with the question of the limitations
+of the authority of society over the individual is the
+question of government participation in industrial and
+other enterprises generally undertaken by individuals.</p>
+
+<p>There are three main objections to the interference of
+the state in such matters. In the first place, the matter
+may be better managed by individuals than by the government.
+In the second place, though individuals may
+not do it so well as government might, yet it is desirable
+that they should do it, as a means of their own mental
+education. In the third place, it is undesirable to add<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span>
+to the power of the government. If roads, railways,
+banks, insurance offices, great joint-stock companies,
+universities, public charities, municipal corporations, and
+local boards were all in the government service, and if
+the employees in these look to the government for promotion,
+not all the freedom of the Press and the popular constitution
+of the legislature would make this or any other
+country free otherwise than in name. And, for various
+reasons, the better qualified the heads and hands of the
+government officials, the more detrimental would the rule
+of the government be. Such a government would inevitably
+degenerate into a pedantocracy monopolising all the
+occupations which form and cultivate the faculties required
+for the government of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>To find the best compromise between individuals and
+the state is difficult, but I believe the ideal must combine
+the greatest possible dissemination of power consistent
+with efficiency, and the greatest possible centralisation
+and diffusion of information.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_257"><a name="JOHN_MILTON" id="JOHN_MILTON">JOHN MILTON</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Areopagitica</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>It has been said of "Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton
+for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament
+of England," that it is "the piece that lies more surely than any
+other at the very heart of our prose literature." In 1637 the Star
+Chamber issued a decree regulating the printing, circulation, and
+importation of books, and on June 14, 1643, the Long Parliament
+published an order in the same spirit. Milton (see Vol. XVII)
+felt that what had been done in the days of repression and tyranny
+was being continued under the reign of liberty, and that the time
+for protest had arrived. Liberty was the central principle of
+Milton's faith. He regarded it as the most potent, beneficent,
+and sacred factor in human progress; and he applied it all
+round&mdash;to literature, religion, marriage, and civic life. His
+"Areopagitica," published in November, 1644, was an application
+of the principle to literature that has remained unanswered.
+The word "Areopagitica" is derived from Areopagus, the celebrated
+open-air court in Athens, whose decision in matters of
+public importance was regarded as final.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;The Right of Appeal</i></h4>
+
+<p>It is not a liberty which we can hope, that no grievance
+ever should arise in the Commonwealth&mdash;that let no man
+in this world expect; but when complaints are freely
+heard, deeply considered, and speedily reformed, then is
+the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise men
+look for. To which we are already in good part arrived;
+and this will be attributed first to the strong assistance of
+God our Deliverer, next to your faithful guidance and
+undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons of England.</p>
+
+<p>If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour
+of your civil and gentle greatness, Lords and Commons,
+as to gainsay what your published Order hath directly
+said, I might defend myself with ease out of those ages
+to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span>
+not yet Goths and Jutlanders. Such honour was done in
+those days to men who professed the study of wisdom
+and eloquence that cities and signiories heard them gladly,
+and with great respect, if they had aught in public to
+admonish the state.</p>
+
+<p>When your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the
+voice of reason from what quarter soever it be heard
+speaking, I know not what should withhold me from
+presenting ye with a fit instance wherein to show, both
+that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and that
+uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be
+partial to yourselves, by judging over again that Order
+which ye have ordained to regulate printing: that no
+book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth printed unless
+the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at
+least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed.</p>
+
+<p>I shall lay before ye, first, that the inventors of licensing
+books be those whom ye will be loth to own; next, what
+is to be thought in general of reading, whatever sort the
+books be; last, that it will be primely to the discouragement
+of all learning and the stop of truth. I deny not
+that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and
+commonwealth to have a vigilant eye how books demean
+themselves, as well as men. For books are not
+absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life
+in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny
+they are.</p>
+
+<p>Nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy
+and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I
+know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as
+those fabulous dragon's teeth; and, being sown up and
+down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet,
+on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost
+kill a man as kill a good book. Many a man lives
+a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious
+life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up
+on purpose to life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span>
+restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great loss;
+and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a
+rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare
+the worse.</p>
+
+<p>We should be wary, therefore, how we spill that
+seasoned life of man, preserved and stored up in books,
+since we see a kind of homicide may be thus committed,
+that strikes at that ethereal essence, the breath of reason
+itself, and slays an immortality rather than a life.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;The History of Repression</i></h4>
+
+<p>In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than
+in any other part of Greece, I find but only two sorts of
+writings which the magistrate cared to take notice of&mdash;those
+either blasphemous and atheistical, or libellous.
+The Romans, for many ages trained up only to a military
+roughness, knew of learning little. There libellous
+authors were quickly cast into prison, and the like severity
+was used if aught were impiously written. Except in
+these two points, how the world went in books the
+magistrate kept no reckoning.</p>
+
+<p>By the time the emperors were become Christians, the
+books of those whom they took to be grand heretics were
+examined, refuted, and condemned in the general councils,
+and not till then were prohibited.</p>
+
+<p>As for the writings of heathen authors, unless they
+were plain invectives against Christianity, they met with
+no interdict that can be cited till about the year 400. The
+primitive councils and bishops were wont only to declare
+what books were not commendable, passing no further
+till after the year 800, after which time the popes of
+Rome extended their dominion over men's eyes, as they
+had before over their judgments, burning and prohibiting
+to be read what they fancied not, till Martin V. by
+his Bull not only prohibited, but was the first that excommunicated
+the reading of heretical books; for about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span>
+that time Wickliffe and Huss, growing terrible, drove
+the papal court to a stricter policy of prohibiting. To
+fill up the measure of encroachment, their last invention
+was to ordain that no book, pamphlet, or paper should
+be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them the
+keys of the press also out of Paradise), unless it were
+approved and licensed under the hands of two or three
+glutton friars.</p>
+
+<p>Not from any ancient state or polity or church, nor by
+any statute left us by our ancestors, but from the most
+tyrannous Inquisition have ye this book-licensing. Till
+then books were as freely admitted into the world as
+any other birth. No envious Juno sat cross-legged over
+the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring. That ye
+like not now these most certain authors of this licensing
+Order, all men who know the integrity of your actions
+will clear ye readily.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;The Futility of Prohibition</i></h4>
+
+<p>But some will say, "What though the inventors were
+bad, the thing, for all that, may be good?" It may be
+so, yet I am of those who believe it will be a harder
+alchemy than Lullius ever knew to sublimate any good
+use out of such an invention.</p>
+
+<p>Good and evil in the field of this world grow up together
+almost inseparably. As the state of man now is,
+what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to
+forbear, without the knowledge of evil? I cannot praise
+a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed,
+that never sallies out and sees her adversary,
+but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland
+is to be run for, not without dust and heat. That which
+purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. And
+how can we more safely, and with less danger scout into
+the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner
+of tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span>
+this is the benefit which may be had of books promiscuously
+read.</p>
+
+<p>'Tis next alleged we must not expose ourselves to
+temptations without necessity, and next to that, not employ
+our time in vain things. To both these objections
+one answer will serve&mdash;that to all men such books are not
+temptations, nor vanities, but useful drugs and materials
+wherewith to temper and compose effective and strong
+medicines. The rest, as children and childish men, who
+have not the art to qualify and prepare these working
+minerals, well may be exhorted to forbear, but hindered
+forcibly they cannot be by all the licensing that sainted
+Inquisition could ever yet contrive.</p>
+
+<p>This Order of licensing conduces nothing to the end
+for which it was framed. If we think to regulate printing,
+thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all recreations
+and pastimes, all that is delightful to man. No
+music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is
+grave and Doric. There must be licensing dancers, that
+no gesture, motion, or deportment be taught our youth
+but what by their allowance shall be thought honest.
+Our garments, also, should be referred to the licensing
+of some more sober workmasters to see them cut into a
+less wanton garb. Who shall regulate all the mixed
+conversation of our youth? Who shall still appoint what
+shall be discoursed, what presumed, and no further?
+Lastly, who shall forbid and separate all idle resort, all
+evil company? If every action which is good or evil in
+man at ripe years were to be under pittance and prescription
+and compulsion, what were virtue but a name?</p>
+
+<p>When God gave Adam reason, he gave him reason to
+choose, for reason is but choosing. Wherefore did he
+create passions within us, pleasures round about us, but
+that these rightly tempered are the very ingredients of
+virtue?</p>
+
+<p>Why should we then affect a rigour contrary to the
+manner of God and of nature, by abridging or scanting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span>
+those means which books freely permitted are both to the
+trial of virtue and the exercise of truth?</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;An Indignity to Learning</i></h4>
+
+<p>I lastly proceed from the no good it can do to the
+manifest hurt it causes in being, first, the greatest discouragement
+and affront that can be offered to learning
+and to learned men. If ye be loth to dishearten utterly
+and discontent the free and ingenuous sort of such as were
+born to study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre
+or any other end but the service of God and of truth, and
+perhaps that lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which
+God and good men have consented shall be the reward of
+those whose published labours advance the good of mankind,
+then know that so far to distrust the judgment and
+the honesty of one who hath but a common repute in
+learning, and never yet offended, as not to count him fit
+to print his mind without a tutor and examiner, is the
+greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and knowing
+spirit that can be put upon him.</p>
+
+<p>When a man writes to the world he summons up all his
+reason and deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates,
+is industrious, and likely consults and confers with
+his judicious friends. If in this, the most consummate
+act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no industry, no
+former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state
+of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected,
+unless he carry all his considerate diligence to the hasty
+view of an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his younger,
+perhaps far his inferior in judgment, perhaps one who
+never knew the labour of book-writing, and if he be not
+repulsed or slighted, must appear in print with his
+censor's hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and
+surety that he is no idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a
+dishonour and derogation to the author, to the book, to
+the privilege and dignity of learning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span>
+And, further, to me it seems an undervaluing and
+vilifying of the whole nation. I cannot set so light by
+all the invention, the art, the wit, the grave and solid
+judgment which is in England, as that it can be comprehended
+in any twenty capacities how good soever, much
+less that it should not pass except their superintendence
+be over it, except it be sifted and strained with their
+strainers, that it should be uncurrent without their manual
+stamp. Truth and understanding are not such wares as
+to be monopolised and traded in by tickets and statutes
+and standards.</p>
+
+<p>Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation
+it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors&mdash;a
+nation not slow and dull, but of a quick, ingenious and
+piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and sinewy to discourse,
+not beneath the reach of any point the highest
+that human capacity can soar to. Is it for nothing that
+the grave and frugal Transylvanian sends out yearly
+from as far as the mountainous borders of Russia, and
+beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their youth, but
+their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic
+arts? By all concurrence of signs, and by the general
+instinct of holy and devout men, God is decreeing to begin
+some new and great period in His Church, even to the
+reforming of Reformation itself. What does He, then,
+but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner
+is, first to His Englishmen?</p>
+
+<p>Behold now this vast city&mdash;a city of refuge, the mansion
+house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with
+His protection. The shop of war hath not there more
+anvils and hammers waking to fashion out the plates and
+instruments of armed justice in defence of beleaguered
+truth than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their
+studious lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions
+and ideas wherewith to present, as with their homage
+and their fealty, the approaching Reformation; others
+as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to the force<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>
+of reason and convincement. What could a man require
+more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after
+knowledge? Where there is much desire to learn, there,
+of necessity, will be much arguing, much writing, many
+opinions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in
+the making. A little generous prudence, a little forbearance
+of one another, and some grain of charity might win
+all these diligencies to join and unite in one general search
+after truth, could we but forego this prelatical tradition
+of crowding free consciences and Christian liberties into
+canons and precepts of men.</p>
+
+<p>Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation
+rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking
+her invincible locks. Methinks I see her as an eagle
+mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled
+eyes at the full midday beam; purging and unsealing her
+long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly
+radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking
+birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about,
+amazed at what she means, and in their envious gabble
+would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.</p>
+
+<p>What should ye do then? Should ye suppress all this
+flowery crop of knowledge and new light? Should ye
+set an oligarchy of twenty engrossers over it, to bring a
+famine upon our minds again, when we shall know nothing
+but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe
+it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to
+such a suppressing do as good as bid ye suppress yourselves.
+If it be desired to know the immediate cause of
+all this free writing and free speaking, there cannot be
+assigned a truer than your own mild, and free, and
+humane government. It is the liberty, Lords and Commons,
+which our own valorous and happy counsels have
+purchased us, liberty, which is the nurse of all great wits.
+Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely
+according to conscience above all liberties. And though
+all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span>
+earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by
+licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let
+her and Falsehood grapple. Whoever knew Truth put
+to the worse in a free and open encounter? For who
+knows not that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty?
+She needs no policies, nor stratagems, nor licensing to
+make her victorious. Those are the shifts and defences
+that error uses against her power. Give her but room,
+and do not bind her when she sleeps.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_266"><a name="PLUTARCH" id="PLUTARCH">PLUTARCH</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Parallel Lives</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Little is known of the life of Plutarch, greatest of biographers.
+He was born about 50 <span class="smcap smaller">A.D.</span>, at Chæronea, in Bœotia,
+Greece, the son of a learned and virtuous father. He studied
+philosophy under Ammonius at Delphi, and on his return to his
+native city became a priest of Apollo, and archon, or chief
+magistrate. Plutarch wrote many philosophical works, which
+are enumerated by his son Lamprias, but are no longer extant.
+We have about fifty biographies, which are called "parallel"
+because of the method by which Plutarch, after giving separately
+the lives of two or more people, proceeds to compare them
+with one another. The "Lives" were translated into French
+in Henry II.'s reign, and into English in the time of Elizabeth.
+They have been exceedingly popular at every period, and many
+authors, including Shakespeare, have owed much to them. Plutarch
+died about 120 <span class="smcap smaller">A.D.</span></p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Lycurgus and Numa</i></h4>
+
+<p>According to the best authors, Lycurgus, the law-giver,
+reigned only for eight months as king of Sparta,
+until the widow of the late king, his brother, had given
+birth to a son, whom he named Charilaus. He then
+travelled for some years in Crete, Asia, and possibly also
+in Egypt, Libya, Spain, and India, studying governments
+and manners; and returning to Sparta, he set himself to
+alter the whole constitution of that kingdom, with the encouragement
+of the oracles and the favour of Charilaus.</p>
+
+<p>The first institution was a senate of twenty-eight members,
+whose place it was to strengthen the throne when
+the people encroached too far, and to support the people
+when the king should attempt to become absolute. Occasional
+popular assemblies, in the open air, were to be
+called, not to propose any subject of debate, but only to
+ratify or reject the proposals of the senate and the two
+kings.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span>
+His second political enterprise was a new division of
+the lands, for he found a prodigious inequality, wealth
+being centred in the hands of a few; and by this reform
+Laconia became like an estate newly divided among many
+brothers. Each plot of land was sufficient to maintain a
+family in health, and they wanted nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>Then, desiring also to equalise property in movable
+objects, he resorted to the device of doing away with gold
+and silver currency, and establishing an iron coinage, of
+which great bulk and weight went to but little value. He
+excluded all unprofitable and superfluous arts; and the
+Spartans soon had no means of purchasing foreign
+wares, nor did any merchant ship unlade in their harbours.
+Luxury died away of itself, and the workmanship
+of their necessary and useful furniture rose to great
+excellence.</p>
+
+<p>Public tables were now established, where all must eat
+in common of the same frugal meal; whereby hardiness
+and health of body and mutual benevolence of mind were
+alike promoted. There were about fifteen to a table, to
+which each contributed in provisions or in money; the
+conversation was liberal and well-informed, and salted
+with pleasant raillery.</p>
+
+<p>Lycurgus left no law in writing; he depended on principles
+pervading the customs of the people; and he reduced
+the whole business of legislation into the bringing
+up of the young. And in this matter he began truly at
+the beginning, by regulating marriages. The man unmarried
+after the prescribed age was prosecuted and
+disgraced; and the father of four children was immune
+from taxation.</p>
+
+<p>Lycurgus considered the children as the property of
+the state rather than of the parents, and derided the
+vanity of other nations, who studied to have horses of
+the finest breed, yet had their children begotten by ordinary
+persons rather than by the best and healthiest men.
+At birth, the children were carried to be examined by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>
+the oldest men in council, who had the weaklings thrown
+away into a cavern, and gave orders for the education of
+the sturdy.</p>
+
+<p>As for learning, they had just what was necessary
+and no more, their education being directed chiefly to
+making them obedient, laborious, and warlike. They
+went barefoot, and for the most part naked. They were
+trained to steal with astuteness, to suffer pain and hunger,
+and to express themselves without an unnecessary
+word. Dignified poetry and music were encouraged. To
+the end of his life, the Spartan was kept ever in mind
+that he was born, not for himself, but for his country;
+the city was like one great camp, where each had his
+stated allowance and his stated public charge.</p>
+
+<p>Let us turn now to Numa Pompilius, the great law-giver
+of the Romans. A Sabine of illustrious virtue and
+great simplicity of life, he was elected to be king after
+the interregnum which followed on the disappearance of
+Romulus. He had spent much time in solitary wanderings
+in the sacred groves and other retired places; and
+there, it is reported, the goddess Egeria communicated
+to him a happiness and knowledge more than mortal.</p>
+
+<p>Numa was in his fortieth year, and was not easily persuaded
+to undertake the Roman kingdom. But his disinclination
+was overcome, and he was received with loud
+acclamations as the most pious of men and most beloved
+of the gods. His first act was to discharge the body-guard
+provided for him, and to appoint a priest for the cult of
+Romulus. But his great task was to soften the Romans,
+as iron is softened by fire, and to bring them from a violent
+and warlike disposition to a juster and more gentle
+temper. For Rome was composed at first of most hardy
+and resolute men, inveterate warriors.</p>
+
+<p>To reduce this people to mildness and peace, he called
+in the assistance of religion. By sacrifices, solemn
+dances, and processions, wherein he himself officiated,
+he mixed the charms of festal pleasure with holy ritual.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span>
+He founded the hierarchy of priests, the vestal virgins,
+and several other sacred orders; and passed most of his
+time in performing some religious function or in conversing
+with the priests on some divine subject. And by
+all this discipline the people became so tractable, and were
+so impressed with Numa's power, that they would believe
+the most fabulous tales, and thought nothing impossible
+which he undertook. Numa further introduced agriculture,
+and fostered it as an incentive to peace; he distributed
+the citizens of Rome into guilds, or companies,
+according to their several arts and trades; he reformed
+the calendar, and did many other services to his people.</p>
+
+<p>Comparing, now, Lycurgus and Numa, we find that
+their resemblances are obvious&mdash;their wisdom, piety,
+talent for government, and their deriving their laws from
+a divine source. Of their distinctions, the chief is that
+Numa accepted, but Lycurgus relinquished, a crown;
+and as it was an honour to the former to attain royal
+dignity by his justice, so it was an honour to the latter
+to prefer justice to that dignity. Again, Lycurgus tuned
+up the strings of Sparta, which he found relaxed with
+luxury, to a keener pitch; Numa, on the contrary, softened
+the high and harsh tone of Rome. Both were equally
+studious to lead their people to sobriety, but Lycurgus
+was more attached to fortitude and Numa to justice.</p>
+
+<p>Though Numa put an end to the gain of rapine, he
+made no provision against the accumulation of great
+fortunes, nor against poverty, which then began to
+spread within the city. He ought rather to have watched
+against these dangers, for they gave birth to the many
+troubles that befell the Roman state.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Aristides and Cato</i></h4>
+
+<p>Aristides had a close friendship with Clisthenes, who
+established popular government in Athens after the expulsion
+of the tyrants; yet he had at the same time a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>
+great veneration for Lycurgus of Sparta, whom he regarded
+as supreme among law-givers; and this led him to
+be a supporter of aristocracy, in which he was always
+opposed by Themistocles, the democrat. The latter was
+insinuating, daring, artful, and impetuous, but Aristides
+was solid and steady, inflexibly just, and incapable of
+flattery or deceit.</p>
+
+<p>Neither elated by honour nor disheartened by ill success,
+Aristides became deeply founded in the estimation
+of the best citizens. He was appointed public treasurer,
+and showed up the peculations of Themistocles and of
+others who had preceded him. When the fleet of Darius
+was at Marathon, with a view to subjugating Greece,
+Miltiades and Aristides were the Greek generals, who by
+custom were to command by turns, day about; and
+Aristides freely gave up his command to the other, to
+promote unity of discipline, and to give example of military
+obedience. The next year he became archon.
+Though a poor man and a commoner, Aristides won the
+royal and divine title of "the Just." At first loved and
+respected for his surname "the Just," Aristides came to
+be envied and dreaded for so extraordinary an honour,
+and the citizens assembled from all the towns in Attica
+and banished him by ostracism, cloaking their envy of his
+character under the pretence of guarding against tyranny.
+Three years later they reversed this decree, fearing lest
+Aristides should join the cause of Xerxes. They little
+knew the man; even before his recall he had been inciting
+the Greeks to defend their liberty.</p>
+
+<p>In the great battle of Platæa, Aristides was in command
+of the Athenians; Pausanias, commander-in-chief
+of all the confederates, joined him there with the Spartans.
+The opposing Persian army covered an immense
+area. In the engagements which took place the Greeks
+behaved with the utmost firmness, and at last stormed
+the Persian camp, with a prodigious slaughter of the
+enemy. When, later, Aristides was entrusted with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span>
+task of assessing the cities of the allies for a tax towards
+the war, and was thus clothed with an authority which
+made him master of Greece, though he set out poor he
+returned yet poorer, having arranged the burden with
+equal justice and humanity. In fact, he esteemed his
+poverty no less a glory than all the laurels he had won.</p>
+
+<p>The Roman counterpart of Aristides was Cato; which
+name he received for his wisdom, for Romans call wise
+men Catos. Marcus Cato, the censor, came of an obscure
+family, yet his father and grandfather were excellent
+soldiers. He lived on an estate which his father left him
+near the Sabine country. With red hair and grey eyes,
+his appearance was such, says an epigram, as to scare
+the spirits of the departed. Inured to labour and temperance,
+he had the sound constitution of one brought up
+in camps; and he had practised eloquence as a necessary
+instrument for one who would mix with affairs. While
+still a lad he had fought in so many battles that his breast
+was covered with scars; and all who spoke with him
+noted a gravity of behaviour and a dignity of sentiment
+such as to fit him for high responsibilities.</p>
+
+<p>A powerful nobleman, Valerius Flaccus, whose estate
+was near Cato's home, heard his servants praise their
+neighbour's laborious life. He sent for Cato, and,
+charmed with his sweet temper and ready wit, persuaded
+him to go to Rome and apply himself to political affairs.
+His rise was rapid; he became tribune of the soldiers,
+then quæstor, and at last was the colleague of Valerius
+both as consul and as censor.</p>
+
+<p>Cato's eloquence brought him the epithet of the Roman
+Demosthenes, but he was even more celebrated for his
+manner of living. Few were willing to imitate him in
+the ancient custom of tilling the ground with his own
+hands, in eating a dinner prepared without fire, and a
+spare, frugal supper; few thought it more honourable
+not to want superfluities than to possess them. By reason
+of its vast dominions, the commonwealth had lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span>
+its pristine purity and integrity; the citizens were frightened
+at labour and enervated by pleasure. But Cato
+never wore a costly garment nor partook of an elaborate
+meal; even when consul he drank the same wine as his
+servants. He thought nothing cheap that is superfluous.
+Some called him mean and narrow, others thought that
+he was setting an object-lesson to the growing luxury of
+the age. For my part, I think that his custom of using
+his servants like beasts of burden, and of turning them off
+or selling them when grown old, was the mark of an ungenerous
+spirit, which thinks that the sole tie between
+man and man is interest or necessity. For my own part,
+I would not sell even an old ox that had laboured for me.</p>
+
+<p>However that may be, his temperance was wonderful.
+When governor of Sardinia, where his predecessors had
+put the province to great expense, he did not even use a
+carriage, but walked from town to town with one attendant.
+He was inexorable in everything that concerned
+public justice. He proved himself a brave general in
+the field; and when he became censor, which was the
+highest dignity of the republic, he waged an uncompromising
+campaign against luxury, by means of an almost
+prohibitive tax on the expenditure of ostentatious superfluity.
+His style in speaking was at once humorous,
+familiar, and forcible, and many of his wise and pregnant
+sayings are remembered.</p>
+
+<p>When we compare Aristides and Cato, we are at once
+struck by many resemblances; and examining the several
+parts of their lives distinctly, as we examine a poem
+or a picture, we find that they both rose to great honour
+without the help of family connections, and merely by
+their own virtue and abilities. Both of them were
+equally victorious in war; but in politics Aristides was less
+successful, being banished by the faction of Themistocles;
+while Cato, though his antagonists were the most powerful
+men in Rome, kept his footing to the end like a skilled wrestler.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>
+Again, Cato was no less attentive to the management
+of his domestic affairs than he was to affairs of state,
+and not only increased his own fortune, but became a
+guide to others in finance and in agriculture. But Aristides,
+by his indigence, brought disgrace upon justice
+itself, as if it were the ruin and impoverishment of families;
+it is even said that he left not enough for the
+portions of his daughters nor for the expenses of his
+own funeral. So Cato's family produced prætors and
+consuls to the fourth generation; but of the descendants
+of Aristides some were conjurors and paupers, and not
+one of them had a sentiment worthy of his illustrious
+ancestor.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Demosthenes and Cicero</i></h4>
+
+<p>That these two great orators were originally formed
+by nature in the same mould is shown by the similarity
+of their dispositions. They had the same ambition, the
+same love of liberty, and the same timidity in war and
+danger. Their fortunes also were similar; both raised
+themselves from obscure beginnings to authority and
+power; both opposed kings and tyrants; both of them
+were banished, then returned with honour, were forced
+to fly again, and were taken by their enemies; and with
+both of them expired the liberties of their countries.</p>
+
+<p>Demosthenes, while a weakly child of seven years,
+lost his father, and his fortune was dissipated by unworthy
+guardians. But his ambition was fired in early
+years by hearing the pleadings of the orator Callistratus,
+and by noting the honours which attended success in that
+profession. He at once applied himself to the practice of
+declamation, and studied rhetoric under Isæus; and as
+soon as he came of age he appeared at the Bar in the
+prosecution of his guardians for their embezzlements.
+Though successful in this claim, Demosthenes had much
+to learn, and his earlier speeches provoked the amusement
+of his audience. His manner was at once violent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span>
+and confused, his voice weak and stammering, and his
+delivery breathless; but these faults were overcome by
+an arduous and protracted course of exercise in the
+subterraneous study which he had built, where he would
+remain for two or three months together. He corrected
+the stammering by speaking with pebbles in his mouth;
+strengthened his voice by running uphill and declaiming
+while still unbreathed; and his attitude and gestures were
+studied before a mirror.</p>
+
+<p>Demosthenes was rarely heard to speak extempore,
+and though the people called upon him in the assembly,
+he would sit silent unless he had come prepared. He wrote
+a great part, if not the whole, of each oration beforehand,
+so that it was objected that his arguments "smelled of the
+lamp"; yet, on exceptional occasions, he would speak unprepared,
+and then as if from a supernatural impulse.</p>
+
+<p>His nature was vindictive and his resentment implacable.
+He was never a time-server in word or in action,
+and he maintained to the end the political standpoint with
+which he had begun. The glorious object of his ambition
+was the defence of the cause of Greece against Philip;
+and most of his orations, including these Philippics, are
+written upon the principle that the right and worthy
+course is to be chosen for its own sake. He does not
+exhort his countrymen to that which is most agreeable,
+or easy, or advantageous, but to that which is most honourable.
+If, besides this noble ambition of his and the
+lofty tone of his orations, he had been gifted also with
+warlike courage and had kept his hands clean from
+bribes, Demosthenes would have deserved to be numbered
+with Cimon, Thucydides, and Pericles.</p>
+
+<p>Cicero's wonderful genius came to light even in his
+school-days; he had the capacity and inclination to learn
+all the arts, but was most inclined to poetry, and the time
+came when he was reputed the best poet as well as the
+greatest orator in Rome. After a training in law and
+some experience of the wars, he retired to a life of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span>
+philosophic study, but being persuaded to appear in the
+courts for Roscius, who was unjustly charged with the
+murder of his father, Cicero immediately made his reputation
+as an orator.</p>
+
+<p>His health was weak; he could eat but little, and that
+only late in the day; his voice was harsh, loud, and ill
+regulated; but, like Demosthenes, he was able by assiduous
+practice to modulate his enunciation to a full, sonorous,
+and sweet tone, and his studies under the leading
+rhetoricians of Greece and Asia perfected his eloquence.</p>
+
+<p>His diligence, justice, and moderation were evidenced
+by his conduct in public offices, as quæstor, prætor, and
+then as consul. In his attack on Catiline's conspiracy, he
+showed the Romans what charms eloquence can add to
+truth, and that justice is invincible when properly supported.
+But his immoderate love of praise interrupted
+his best designs, and he made himself obnoxious to many
+by continually magnifying himself.</p>
+
+<p>Demosthenes, by concentrating all his powers on the
+single art of speaking, became unrivalled in the power,
+grandeur, and accuracy of his eloquence. Cicero's studies
+had a wider range; he strove to excel not only as an
+orator, but as a philosopher and a scholar also. Their
+difference of temperament is reflected in their styles.
+Demosthenes is always grave and serious, an austere man
+of thought; Cicero, on the other hand, loves his jest, and
+is sometimes playful to the point of buffoonery. The
+Greek orator never touches upon his own praise except
+with some great point in view, and then does it modestly
+and without offence; the Roman does not seek to hide his
+intemperate vanity.</p>
+
+<p>Both of these men had high political abilities; but
+while the former held no public office, and lies under the
+suspicion of having at times sold his talent to the highest
+bidder, the latter ruled provinces as a pro-consul at a
+time when avarice reigned unbridled, and became known
+only for his humanity and his contempt of money.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_276"><a name="MADAME_DE_STAEL" id="MADAME_DE_STAEL">MADAME DE STAËL</a></h2>
+
+<h3>On Germany</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Madame de Staël's book "On Germany" (De l'Allemagne)
+was finished in 1810. The manuscript was passed by the censor,
+and partly printed, when the whole impression was seized by the
+order of the Emperor and destroyed. Madame de Staël herself
+escaped secretly, and came eventually to London, where, in 1813,
+the work was published. She did not long survive the fall of her
+tremendous enemy, Napoleon, but died in her beloved Paris on
+July 14, 1817. When it is considered that "On Germany" was
+written by other than an inhabitant of the country, and that
+Madame de Staël did not travel far beyond her own residences
+at Mainz, Frankfort, Berlin, and Vienna, the work may be reckoned
+the most remarkable performance of its kind in literature
+or biography (Mme. de Staël, biography: see Vol. VIII, p. 89).</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Germany, Its People and Customs</i></h4>
+
+<p>The multitude and extent of the forests indicate a still
+new civilisation. Germany still shows traces of uninhabited
+nature. It is a sad country, and time is needed to discover
+what there is to love in it. The ruined castles on
+the hills, the narrow windows of the houses, the long
+stretches of snow in winter, the silence of nature and men,
+all contribute towards the sadness. Yet the country and
+its inhabitants are interesting and poetical. You feel that
+human souls and imagination have embellished this land.</p>
+
+<p>The only remarkable monuments in Germany are the
+Gothic ones which recall the age of chivalry. Modern
+German architecture is not worth mentioning, but the
+towns are well built, and the people try to make their
+houses look as cheerful and pleasing as possible. The
+gardens in some parts of Germany are almost as beautiful
+as in England, which denotes love of nature. Often,
+in the midst of the superb gardens of the German princes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span>
+æolian harps are placed; the breezes waft sound and scent
+at once. Thus northern imagination tries to construct
+Italian nature.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans are generally sincere and faithful; they
+scarcely ever break their word and are strangers to deception.
+Power of work and thought is another of their
+national traits. They are naturally literary and philosophical,
+but their pride of class affects in some ways
+their <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i> adversely. The nobles are lacking in ideas,
+and the men of letters know too little about business.
+The Germans have imagination rather than <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The town dwellers and the country folk, the soldiers
+and the workmen, nearly all have some knowledge of
+music. I have been to some poor houses, blackened with
+tobacco smoke, and not only the mistress, but also the
+master of the house, improvise on the piano, just as the
+Italians improvise in verse. Instrumental music is as
+generally fostered in Germany as vocal music is in Italy.
+Italy has the advantage, because instrumental music
+requires work, whilst the southern sky suffices to produce
+beautiful voices.</p>
+
+<p>Peasant women and servants, who are too poor to put
+on finery, decorate their hair with a few flowers, so that
+imagination may at least enter into their attire.</p>
+
+<p>One is constantly struck in Germany with the contrast
+between sentiment and custom, between talent and taste;
+civilisation and nature do not seem to have properly amalgamated
+yet. Enthusiasm for art and poetry goes with
+very vulgar habits in social life. Nothing could be more
+bizarre than the combination of the warlike aspect of
+Germany, where soldiers are met at every step, with the
+indoor life led by the people. There is a dread of fatigue
+and change of air, as if the nation were composed only of
+shopkeepers and men of letters; and yet all the institutions
+tend towards giving the nation military habits.</p>
+
+<p>Stoves, beer, and tobacco-smoke crate around the German
+people a kind of heavy and hot atmosphere which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span>
+they do not like to leave. This atmosphere is injurious
+to activity, which is at least as necessary in war as in
+courage; resolutions are slow, discouragement is easy,
+because a generally sad existence does not engender
+much confidence in fortune.</p>
+
+<p>Three motive powers lead men to fight: love of the
+fatherland and of liberty, love of glory, and religious
+fanaticism. There is not much love of the fatherland in
+an Empire that has been divided for centuries, where
+Germans fought against Germans; love of glory is not
+very lively where there is no centre, no capital, no society.
+The Germans are much more apt to get roused by abstract
+ideas than by the interests of life.</p>
+
+<p>The love of liberty is not developed with the Germans;
+they have learnt neither by enjoyment, nor by privation,
+the prize that may be attached to it. The very independence
+enjoyed by Germany in all respects made the
+Germans indifferent to liberty; independence is a possession,
+liberty a guarantee, and just because nobody was
+crossed in Germany either in his rights or in his pleasures,
+nobody felt the need for an order of things that
+would maintain this happiness.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans, with few exceptions, are scarcely capable
+of succeeding in anything that requires cleverness
+and skill; everything troubles them, makes them nervous,
+and they need method in action as well as independence
+in thought.</p>
+
+<p>German women have a charm of their own, a touching
+quality of voice, fair hair, and brilliant complexion;
+they are modest, but not as shy as the English. One can
+see that they have often met men who were superior to
+them, and that they have less cause to fear the severity
+of public judgment. They try to please by their sensibility,
+and to arouse interest by the imagination. The
+language of poetry and of the fine arts is known to them;
+they flirt with enthusiasm, just as one flirts in France
+with <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i> and wit.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span>
+Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetic religion,
+which willingly tolerates all that may be excused by sensibility.
+The facility of divorce in the Protestant provinces
+certainly affects the sanctity of marriage. Husbands
+are changed as peacefully as if it were merely a
+question of arranging the incidents of a play. The good-nature
+of men and women prevents any bitterness entering
+these easy ruptures.</p>
+
+<p>Some German women are ever in a state of exaltation
+that amounts to affectation, and the sweet expressions
+of which efface whatever there may be piquant or pronounced
+in their mind and character. They are not frank,
+and yet not false either; but they see and judge nothing
+with truth, and the real events pass before their eyes like
+phantasmagoria.</p>
+
+<p>But these women are the exception. Many German
+women have true sentiment and simple manners. Their
+careful education and natural purity of soul renders their
+dominion gentle and moderate; every day they inspire
+you with increased interest for all that is great and noble,
+with increased confidence in every kind of hope. What
+is rare among German women is real <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i> and quick
+repartee. Conversation, as a talent, exists only in France;
+in other countries it only serves for polite intercourse, for
+discussion and for friendship; in France it is an art.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;On Southern Germany and Austria</i></h4>
+
+<p>Franconia, Suabia, and Bavaria were, before the
+foundation of the Munich Academy, strangely heavy and
+monotonous countries; no arts except music, little literature;
+an accent that did not lend itself well to the pronunciation
+of the Latin languages, no society; great
+parties that resembled ceremonies rather than amusement;
+obsequious politeness towards an unelegant aristocracy;
+kindness and loyalty in all classes, but a certain
+smiling stiffness which is neither ease nor dignity. In a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span>
+country where society counts for nothing, and nature for
+little, only the literary towns can be really interesting.</p>
+
+<p>A temperate climate is not favourable for poetry.
+Where the climate is neither severe nor beautiful, one
+lives without fearing or hoping anything from heaven,
+and one only takes interest in the positive facts of existence.
+Southern Germany, temperate in every respect,
+keeps up a state of monotonous well-being which is as
+bad for business activity as it is for the activity of the
+mind. The keenest wish of the inhabitants of that peaceful
+and fertile country is to continue the same existence.
+And what can one do with that one desire? It is not
+even enough to preserve that with which one is contented.</p>
+
+<p>There are many excellent things in Austria, but few
+really superior men, because in that country it is not
+much use to excel one's neighbour; one is not envied for
+it, but forgotten, which is still more discouraging. Ambition
+turns in the direction of obtaining good posts.</p>
+
+<p>Austria, embracing so many different peoples, Bohemians,
+Hungarians, etc., has not the unity necessary for a
+monarchy. Yet the great moderation of the heads of
+the state has for a long time constituted a strong link.</p>
+
+<p>Industry, good living and domestic pleasures are
+Austria's principal interests. In spite of the glory she
+gained by the perseverance and valour of her troops, the
+military spirit has really never got hold of all classes of
+the nation.</p>
+
+<p>In a country where every movement is difficult, and
+where everything inspires tranquility, the slightest obstacle
+is an excuse for complete idleness of action and
+thought. One might say that this is real happiness; but
+does happiness consist of the faculties which one develops,
+or of those which one chokes?</p>
+
+<p>Vienna is situated in a plain amid picturesque hills.
+It is an old town, very small, but surrounded by very
+spacious suburbs. It is said that the city proper within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span>
+the fortifications is no larger than it was when Richard
+Cœur-de-Lion was put into prison not far from its gates.
+The streets are as narrow as in Italy; the palaces recall
+a little those of Florence; in fine, nothing here resembles
+the rest of Germany except a few Gothic buildings, which
+bring back the Middle Ages to the imagination. First
+among these is the tower of St. Stephen's, around which
+somehow centres the whole history of Austria. No
+building can be as patriotic as a church&mdash;the only one
+in which all classes of the population meet, the only one
+which recalls not only the public events, but also the
+secret thoughts, the intimate affections which the rulers
+and the citizens have brought within its precincts.</p>
+
+<p>Every great city has some building, or promenade,
+some work of art or nature, to which the recollections
+of childhood are attached. It seems to me that the
+<i>Prater</i> should have this charm for the Viennese. No
+other city can match this splendid promenade through
+woods and deer-stocked meadows. The daily promenade
+at a fixed hour is an Italian custom. Such regularity
+would be impossible in a country where the pleasures
+are as varied as in Paris; but the Viennese could never
+do without it. Society folk in their carriages and the
+people on their feet assemble here every evening. It is
+in the Prater that one is most struck with the easy life
+and the prosperity of the Viennese. Vienna has the
+uncontested reputation of consuming more food than
+any other equally populous city. You can see whole
+families of citizens and artisans starting for the Prater
+at five o'clock for a rustic meal as substantial as dinner
+in any other country, and the money they are able to
+spend on it proves their industry and kindly rule.</p>
+
+<p>At night thousands of people return, without disorder,
+without quarrel. You can scarcely hear a voice, so
+silently do they take their pleasures. It is not due to
+sadness, but to laziness and physical well-being. Society
+is here with magnificent horses and carriages. Their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span>
+whole amusement is to recognise in a Prater avenue
+the friends they have just left in a drawing-room. The
+emperor and his brothers take their place in the long
+row of carriages, and prefer to be considered just as
+ordinary private people. They only use their rights when
+they are performing their duties. You never see a beggar:
+the charity institutions are admirably managed.
+And there are very few mortal crimes in Austria. Everything
+in this country bears the impress of a paternal,
+wise, and religious government.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;On the German Language</i></h4>
+
+<p>Germany is better suited for prose than for poetry,
+and the prose is better written than spoken; it is an
+excellent instrument if you wish to describe or to say
+everything; but you cannot playfully pass from subject
+to subject as you can in French. If you would adapt the
+German words to the French style of conversation you
+would rob them altogether of grace and dignity. The
+merit of the Germans is to fill their time well; the talent
+of the French is to make us forget time.</p>
+
+<p>Although the sense of German sentences is frequently
+only revealed at the very end, the construction does not
+always permit to close a phrase with the most piquant
+expression, which is one of the great means to make
+conversation effective. You rarely hear among the Germans
+what is known as a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bon-mot</i>; you have to admire
+the thought and not the brilliant way in which it is expressed.</p>
+
+<p>Brilliant expression is considered a kind of charlatanism
+by the Germans, who take to abstract expression
+because it is more conscientious and approaches more
+closely to the very essence of truth. But conversation
+ought not to cause any trouble either to the listener or
+to the speaker. As soon as conversation in Germany
+departs from the ordinary interests of life it becomes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span>
+too metaphysical; there is nothing between the common
+and the sublime; and it is just this intermediate region
+that is the proper sphere for the art of conversation.</p>
+
+<h5>WEIMAR</h5>
+
+<p>Of all the German principalities, Weimar makes one
+best realise the advantages of a small country, if the
+ruler is a man of fine intellect who may try to please his
+subjects without losing their obedience. The Duchess
+Louise of Saxe-Weimar is the true model of a woman
+destined for high rank. The duke's military talents are
+highly esteemed; his conversation is pointed and well
+considered; his intellect and his mother's have attracted
+the most distinguished men of letters to Weimar. Germany
+had for the first time a literary capital.</p>
+
+<p>Herder had just died when I arrived at Weimar, but
+Wieland, Goethe, and Schiller were still there. They
+can be judged from their works, for their books bear a
+striking resemblance to their character and conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Life in small towns has never appealed to me. Man's
+intellect seems to become narrow and woman's heart
+cold. One feels oppressed by the close proximity of
+one's equals. All the actions of your life are minutely
+examined in detail, until the ensemble of your character
+is no longer understood. And the more your spirit is
+independent and elevated, the less you can breathe within
+the narrow confines. This disagreeable discomfort did
+not exist at Weimar, which was not a little town, but a
+large castle. A chosen circle took a lively interest in
+every new art production. Imagination, constantly stimulated
+by the conversation of the poets, felt less need
+for those outside distractions which lighten the burden
+of existence but often dissipates its forces. Weimar has
+been called the Athens of Germany, and rightly so. It
+was the only place where interest in the fine arts was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span>
+so to speak, rational and served as fraternal link between
+the different ranks.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Prussia</i></h4>
+
+<p>To know Prussia, one has to study the character of
+Frederick II. A man has created this empire which had
+not been favoured by nature, and which has only become
+a power because a soldier has been its master. There are
+two distinct men in Frederick II.: a German by nature,
+and a Frenchman by education. All that the German did
+in a German kingdom has left lasting traces; all that the
+Frenchman tried has been fruitless.</p>
+
+<p>Frederick's great misfortune was that he had not
+enough respect for religion and customs. His tastes
+were cynical. Frederick, in liberating his subjects of
+what he called prejudices, stifled in them their patriotism,
+for in order to get attached to a naturally sombre
+and sterile country one must be ruled by very stern
+opinions and principles. Frederick's predilection for war
+may be excused on political grounds. His realm, as he
+took it over from his father, could not exist, and aggrandisement
+was necessary for its preservation. He
+had two and a half million subjects when he ascended
+the throne, and he left six millions on his death.</p>
+
+<p>One of his greatest wrongs was his share in the
+division of Poland. Silesia was acquired by force of
+arms. Poland by Macchiavellian conquest, "and one
+could never hope that subjects thus robbed should be
+faithful to the juggler who called himself their sovereign."</p>
+
+<p>Frederick II. wanted French literature to rule alone
+in his country, and had no consideration for German
+literature, which, no doubt, was then not as remarkable
+as it is to-day; but a German prince should encourage
+all that is German. Frederick wanted to make Berlin
+resemble Paris, and he flattered himself to have found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>
+among the French refugees some writers of sufficient
+distinction to have a French literature. Such hope was
+bound to be deceptive. Artificial culture never prospers;
+a few individuals may fight against the natural difficulties,
+but the masses will always follow their natural
+leaning. Frederick did a real wrong to his country when
+he professed to despise German genius.</p>
+
+<h5>BERLIN</h5>
+
+<p>Berlin is a large town, with wide, long, straight streets,
+beautiful houses, and an orderly aspect; but as it has
+only recently been rebuilt, it contains nothing to recall
+the past. No Gothic monument exists among the modern
+dwellings, and this newly-formed country is in no way
+interfered with by the past. But modern Berlin, with
+all its beauty, does not impress me seriously. It tells
+nothing of the history of the country or the character of
+its inhabitants; and these beautiful new houses seem to
+be destined only for the comfortable gatherings of business
+or industry. The most beautiful palaces of Berlin
+are built of brick. Prussia's capital resembles Prussia
+herself; its buildings and institutions have the age of one
+generation, and no more, because one man alone is their
+creator.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_286"><a name="THE_GERMANIA_OF_TACITUS" id="THE_GERMANIA_OF_TACITUS">THE "GERMANIA" OF TACITUS</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Customs and Peoples of Germany</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"Germania," the full title of which is "Concerning the
+Geography, the Manners and Customs, and the Peoples of
+Germany," consists of forty-six sections, the first twenty-seven
+describing the characteristics of the peoples, their customs, beliefs,
+and institutions; the remaining nineteen dealing with the
+individual peculiarities of each separate tribe. As a record of
+the Teutonic tribes, written purely from an ethical and rhetorical
+standpoint, the work is of the utmost importance, and, on the
+whole, is regarded as trustworthy. Its weak point is its geography,
+details of which Tacitus (see Vol. XI, p. 156) no doubt
+gathered from hearsay. The main object of the work was not
+so much to compose a history of Germany, as to draw a comparison
+between the independence of the Northern peoples and
+the corrupt civilisation of contemporary Roman life. Possibly,
+also, Tacitus intended to sound a note of alarm.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Germany and the German Tribes</i></h4>
+
+<p>The whole of Germany is thus bounded. It is separated
+from Gaul, Rhætia, and Pannonia by the rivers
+Rhine and Danube; from Sarmatia and Dacia by mutual
+fear, or by high mountains; the rest is encompassed by
+the ocean, which forms vast bays and contains many large
+islands. The Rhine, rising from a rocky summit in the
+Rhætian Alps, winds westward, and is lost in the northern
+ocean. The Danube, issuing from Mount Abnoba,
+traverses several countries and finally falls into the
+Euxine.</p>
+
+<p>I believe that the population is indigenous to Germany,
+and that the nation is free from foreign admixture. They
+affirm Germany to be a recent word, lately bestowed on
+those who first passed the Rhine and repulsed the Gauls.
+From one tribe the whole nation has thus been named.
+They cherish a tradition that Hercules had been in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span>
+their country, and him they extol in their battle songs.
+Some are of opinion that Ulysses also, during his long
+wanderings, was carried into this ocean and entered
+Germany, and that he founded the city Asciburgium,
+which stands at this day upon the bank of the Rhine.
+Such traditions I purpose myself neither to confirm nor
+to refute; but I agree with those who maintain that the
+Germans have never intermingled by marriages with
+other nations, but have remained a pure, independent
+people, resembling none but themselves.</p>
+
+<p>With whatever differences in various districts, their
+territory mainly consists of gloomy forests or insalubrious
+marshes, lower and more humid towards Gaul,
+more hilly and bleak towards Noricum and Pannonia.
+The soil is suited to the production of grain, but less so
+for the cultivation of fruits. Flocks and herds abound,
+but the cattle are somewhat small. Their herds are their
+most valued possessions. Silver and gold the gods have
+denied them, whether in mercy or in wrath I cannot determine.
+Nor is iron plentiful with them, as may be
+judged from their weapons. Swords or long spears they
+rarely use, for they fight chiefly with javelins and shields.
+Their strength lies mainly in their foot, and such is
+the swiftness of the infantry that it can suit and match
+the motions and engagements of the cavalry.</p>
+
+<p>Generals are chosen for their courage, kings are elected
+through distinction of race. The power of the rulers is
+not unlimited or arbitrary, and the generals secure obedience
+mainly by force of the example of their own
+enterprise and bravery.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, when going on a campaign, they carry with
+them sacred images taken from the sacred groves. It is
+their custom also to flock to the field of war not merely
+in battalions, but with whole families and tribes of relations.
+Thus, close to the scene of conflict are lodged
+the most cherished pledges of nature, and the cries of
+wives and infants are heard mingling with the echoes of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span>
+battle. Their wounds and injuries they carry to their
+mothers and wives, and the women administer food and
+encouragement to their husbands and sons even while
+these are engaged in fighting.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Customs of Government and War</i></h4>
+
+<p>Mercury is the god most generally worshipped. To
+him at certain times it is lawful to offer even human sacrifices.
+Hercules, Mars, and Isis are also recognised as
+deities. From the majesty of celestial beings, the Germans
+judge it to be unsuitable to hold their shrines within
+walls, or to represent them under any human likeness.
+They therefore consecrate whole woods and groves, and
+on these sylvan retreats they bestow the names of the
+deities, thus beholding the divinities only in contemplation
+and mental reverence.</p>
+
+<p>Although the chiefs regulate affairs of minor import,
+the whole nation deliberates concerning matters of higher
+consequence, the chiefs afterwards discussing the public
+decision. The assemblies gather leisurely, for sometimes
+many do not arrive for two or three days. The priests
+enjoin silence, and on them is devolved the prerogative
+of correction. The chiefs are heard according to precedence,
+or age, or nobility, or warlike celebrity, or
+eloquence. Ability to persuade has more influence than
+authority to command. Inarticulate murmurs express
+displeasure at a proposition, pleasure is indicated by the
+brandishing of javelins and the clashing of arms.</p>
+
+<p>Punishments vary with the character of crime. Traitors
+and deserters are hanged on trees; cowards, sluggards,
+and vicious women are smothered in bogs. Fines,
+to be paid in horses or cattle, are exacted for lighter
+offences, part of the mulct being awarded to the party
+wronged, part to the chief.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans transact no business without carrying
+arms, but no man thus bears weapons till the community<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span>
+has tested his capacity to wield them. When the public
+approval has been signified, the youth is invested in the
+midst of the assembly by his father or other relative with
+a shield and javelin.</p>
+
+<p>Their chief distinction is to be constantly surrounded
+by a great band of select young men, for their honour
+in peace and their help in warfare.</p>
+
+<p>In battle it is disgraceful to a chief to be surpassed in
+feats of bravery, and it is an indelible reproach to his
+followers to return alive from a conflict in which their
+prince has been slain. The chief fights for victory, his
+followers fight for him. The Germans are so restless
+that they cannot endure repose, and thus many of the
+young men of rank, if their own tribe is tranquil, quit it
+for a community which happens to be engaged in war.
+In place of pay the retainers are supplied with daily repasts,
+grossly prepared, but always profuse.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Domestic Customs of the Germans</i></h4>
+
+<p>Intervals of peace are not much devoted to the chase
+by the Germans, but rather to indolence, to sleep, and to
+feasting. Many surrender themselves entirely to sloth
+and gluttony, the cares of house, lands, and possessions
+being left to the wives. It is an astonishing paradox that
+in the same men should co-exist so much delight in idleness
+and so great a repugnance to tranquil life.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans do not dwell in cities, and endure no
+contiguity in their abodes, inhabiting spots distinct and
+apart, just as they fancy, a fountain, a grove, or a field.
+Their villages consist of houses arranged in opposite
+rows, not joined together as are ours. Each is detached,
+with space around, and mortar and tiles are unknown.
+Many, in winter, retreat to holes dug in the ground, to
+which they convey their grain.</p>
+
+<p>The laws of matrimony are strictly observed, and polygamy
+is rarely practised among the Germans. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>
+dowry is not brought by the wife, but by the husband.
+Conjugal infidelity is exceedingly rare, and is instantly
+punished. In all families the children are reared without
+clothing, and thus grow into those physical proportions
+which are so wonderful to look upon. They are invariably
+suckled by their mothers, never being entrusted to
+nursemaids. The young people do not hasten to marry,
+and thus the robust vigour of the parents is inherited by
+their offspring.</p>
+
+<p>No nation was ever more noted for hospitality. It is
+esteemed inhuman to refuse to admit to the home any
+stranger whatever. Every comer is willingly received
+and generously feasted. Hosts and guests delight in
+exchanging gifts. To continue drinking night and day is
+no reproach to any man. Quarrels through inebriety are
+very frequent, and these often result in injuries and in
+fatalities. But likewise, in these convivial feasts they
+usually deliberate about effecting reconciliation between
+those who are at enmity, and also about forming affinities,
+the election of chiefs, and peace and war.</p>
+
+<p>Slaves gained in gambling with dice are exchanged in
+commerce to remove the shame of such victories. Of
+their other slaves each has a dwelling of his own, his
+lord treating him like a tenant, exacting from him an
+amount of grain, or cattle, or cloth. Thus their slaves
+are not subservient as are ours. For they do not perform
+services in the households of their masters, these
+duties falling to the wives and children of the family.
+Slaves are rarely seen in chains or punished with stripes,
+though in the heat of passion they may sometimes be
+killed.</p>
+
+<p>Usury and borrowing at interest are unknown. The
+families every year shift on the spacious plains, cultivating
+fresh allotments of the soil. Only corn is grown, for
+there is no inclination to expend toil proportionate to the
+capacity of the lands by planting orchards, or enclosing
+meadows, or watering gardens.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>
+Their funerals are not ostentatious, neither apparel
+nor perfumes being accumulated on the pile, though the
+arms of the deceased are thrown into the fire. Little
+demonstration is made in weeping or wailing, but the
+grief endures long. So much concerning the customs of
+the whole German nation.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Tribes of the West and North</i></h4>
+
+<p>I shall now describe the institutions of the several
+tribes, as they differ from one another, giving also an
+account of those who from thence removed, migrating to
+Gaul. That the Gauls were more powerful in former
+times is shown by that prince of authors, the deified
+Julius Cæsar. Hence it is probable that they have passed
+into Germany.</p>
+
+<p>The region between the Hercynian forest and the
+rivers Maine and Rhine was occupied by the Helvetians,
+as was that beyond it by the Boians, both Gallic tribes.
+The Treveri and Nervii fervently aspire to the reputation
+of descent from the Germans, and the Vangiones,
+Triboci, and Nemetes, all dwelling by the Rhine, are certainly
+all Germans. The Ubii are ashamed of their origin
+and delight to be called Agrippinenses, after the name
+of the founder of the Roman colony which they were
+judged worthy of being constituted.</p>
+
+<p>The Batavi are the bravest of all these nations. They
+inhabit a little territory by the Rhine, but possess an
+island on it. Becoming willingly part of the Roman
+empire, they are free from all impositions and pay no
+tribute, but are reserved wholly for wars, precisely like
+a magazine of weapons and armour. In the same position
+are the Mattiaci, living on the opposite banks and enjoying
+a settlement and limits of their own, while they
+are in spirit and inclination attached to us.</p>
+
+<p>Beginning at the Hercynian forest are the Catti, a
+robust and vigorous people, possessed also of much sense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>
+and ability. They are not only singularly brave, but are
+more skilled in the true art of war than other Germans.</p>
+
+<p>Near the Catti were formerly dwelling the Bructeri,
+in whose stead are now settled the Chamani and the
+Angrivarii, by whom the Bructeri were expelled and
+almost exterminated, to the benefit of us Romans. May
+the gods perpetuate among these nations their mutual
+hatred, since fortune befriends our empire by sowing
+strife amongst our foes!</p>
+
+<p>The country of the Frisii, facing that of the Angrivarii
+and the Chamani, is divided into two sections, called the
+greater and the lesser, which both extend along the Rhine
+to the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto I have been describing Germany towards the
+west. Northward it stretches with an immense compass.
+The great tribe of the Chauci occupy the whole region
+between the districts of the Frisii and of the Catti. These
+Chauci are the noblest people of all the Germans. They
+prefer to maintain their greatness by justice rather than
+by violence, seeking to live in tranquillity, and to avoid
+quarrels with others.</p>
+
+<p>By the side of the Chauci and the Catti dwell the
+Cherusci, a people who have degenerated in both influence
+and character. Finding no enemy to stimulate them,
+they were enfeebled by too lasting a peace, and whereas
+they were formerly styled good and upright, they are
+now called cowards and fools, having been subdued by
+the Catti. In the same winding tract live the Cimbri, close
+to the sea, a tribe now small in numbers but great in fame
+for many monuments of their old renown. It was in the
+610th year of Rome, Cæcilius Metellus and Papirius
+Carbo being consuls, that the first mention was made of
+the arms of the Cimbri. From that date to the second
+consulship of the Emperor Trajan comprehends an interval
+of nearly 210 years; so long a period has our conquest
+of Germany occupied. In so great an interval many have
+been the disasters on both sides.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>
+Indeed, not from the Samnites, or from the Carthaginians,
+or from the people of Spain, or from all the tribes
+of Gaul, or even from the Parthians, have we received
+more checks or encountered more alarms. For the
+passion of the Germans for liberty is more indomitable
+than that of the Arsacidæ. What has the power of the
+East to lay to our dishonour? But the overthrow and
+abasement of Crassus, and the loss by the Romans of
+five great armies, all commanded by consuls, have to be
+laid to the account of the Germans. By the Germans,
+also, even the Emperor Augustus was deprived of Varus
+and three legions.</p>
+
+<p>Only with great difficulty and the loss of many men
+were the Germans defeated by Caius Marius in Italy, or
+by the deified Julius Cæsar in Gaul, or by Drusus, or
+Tiberius, or Germanicus in their native territories. And
+next, the strenuous menaces of Caligula against these
+foes ended in mockery and ridicule. Afterwards, for a
+season they were quiet, till, tempted to take advantage
+of our domestic schisms and civil wars, they stormed and
+seized the winter entrenchments of our legions, and
+attempted the conquest of Gaul. Though they were once
+more repulsed, our success was rather a triumph than
+an overwhelming victory.</p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;The Great Nation of the Suevi</i></h4>
+
+<p>Next I must refer to the Suevi, who are not, like the
+Catti, a homogeneous people, but are divided into several
+tribes, all bearing distinct names, although they likewise
+are called by the generic title of Suevi. They occupy the
+larger part of Germany. From other Germans they are
+distinguished by their peculiar fashion of twisting their
+hair into a knot, this also marking the difference between
+the freemen and their slaves. Of all the tribes of the
+Suevi, the Semnones esteem themselves to be the most
+ancient and the noblest, their faith in their antiquity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>
+being confirmed by the mysteries of their religion. Annually
+in a sacred grove the deputies of each family clan
+assemble to repeat the rites practised by their ancestors.
+The horrible ceremonies commence with the sacrifice of
+a man. Their tradition is that at this spot the nation
+originated, and that here the supreme deity resides.
+The Semnones inhabit a hundred towns, and by their
+superior numbers and authority dominate the rest of the
+Suevi.</p>
+
+<p>On the contrary, the Langobardi are ennobled by the
+paucity of their number, for, though surrounded by
+powerful tribes, they assert their superiority by their
+valour and skill instead of displaying obsequiousness.
+Next come the Reudigni, the Aviones, the Angli, the
+Varini, the Eudoses, the Suardones and the Nuithones,
+all defended by rivers or forests.</p>
+
+<p>These are marked by no special characteristics, excepting
+the common worship of the goddess Nerthum, or
+Mother Earth, of whom they believe that she not only
+intervenes in human affairs, but also visits the nations.
+In a certain island of the sea is a wood called Castum.
+Here is kept a chariot sacred to the goddess, covered with
+a curtain, and permitted to be touched only by her priest,
+who perceives her whenever she enters the holy vehicle,
+and with deepest veneration attends the motion of the
+chariot, which is always drawn by yoked cows. Till the
+same priests re-conducts the goddess to her shrine, after
+she has grown weary of intercourse with mortals, feasts
+and games are held with great rejoicings, no arms are
+touched, and none go to war. Slaves wash the chariot
+and curtains in a sacred lake, and, if you will believe it,
+the goddess herself; and forthwith these unfortunate
+beings are doomed to be swallowed up in the same lake.</p>
+
+<p>This portion of the Suevian territory stretches to the
+centre of Germany. Next adjoining is the district of
+the Hermunduri (I am now following the course of the
+Danube as I previously did that of the Rhine), a tribe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>
+faithful to the Romans. To them, accordingly, alone of
+all the Germans, is commerce permitted. They travel
+everywhere at their own discretion. When to others we
+show nothing more than our arms and our encampments,
+to this people we open our houses, as to men who are not
+longing to possess them. The Elbe rises in the territory
+of the Hermunduri.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;The Tribes of the Frontier</i></h4>
+
+<p>Near the Hermunduri reside the Narisci, and next the
+Marcomanni and the Quadi, the former being the more
+famed for strength and bravery, for it was by force
+that they acquired their location, expelling from it the
+Boii. Now, here is, as it were, the frontier of Germany,
+as far as it is washed by the Danube. Not less powerful
+are several tribes whose territories enclose the lands of
+those just named&mdash;the Marsigni, the Gothini, the Osi,
+and the Burii. The Marsigni in speech and dress resemble
+the Suevi; but as the Gothini speak Gallic, and
+the Osi the Pannonian language, and as they endure the
+imposition of tribute, it is manifest that neither of these
+peoples are Germans.</p>
+
+<p>Upon them, as aliens, tribute is imposed, partly by the
+Sarmatæ, partly by the Quadi, and, to deepen their disgrace,
+the Gothini are forced to labour in the iron mines.
+Little level country is possessed by all these several
+tribes, for they are located among mountainous forest
+regions, Suevia being parted by a continuous range of
+mountains, beyond which live many nations. Of these,
+the most numerous and widely spread are the Lygii.
+Among others, the most powerful are the Arii, the Helveconæ,
+the Manimi, the Elysii, and the Naharvali.</p>
+
+<p>The Arii are the most numerous, and also the fiercest
+of the tribes just enumerated. They carry black shields,
+paint their bodies black, and choose dark nights for engaging
+in battle. The ghastly aspect of their army strikes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>
+terror into their foes, for in all battles the eyes are
+vanquished first. Beyond the Lygii dwell the Gothones,
+ruled by a king, and thus held in stricter subjection than
+the other German tribes, yet not so that their liberties
+are extinguished. Immediately adjacent are the Rugii
+and the Lemovii, dwelling by the coast. The characteristic
+of both is the use of a round shield and a short
+sword.</p>
+
+<p>Next are the Suiones, a seafaring community with
+very powerful fleets. The ships differ in form from ours
+in possessing prows at each end, so as to be always
+ready to row to shore without turning. They are not
+propelled by sails, and have no benches of oars at the
+sides. The rowers ply in all parts of the ship alike, and
+change their oars from place to place according as the
+course is shifted hither and thither. Great homage is
+paid among them to wealth; they are governed by a
+single chief, who exacts implicit obedience. Arms are
+not used by these people indiscriminately, as by other
+German tribes. Weapons are shut up under the care
+of a slave. The reason is that the ocean always protects
+the Suiones from their foes, and also that armed bands,
+when not employed, grow easily demoralised.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond the Suiones is another sea, dense and calm.
+It is thought that by this the whole globe is bounded,
+for the reflection of the sun, after his setting, continues
+till he rises, and that so radiantly as to obscure the stars.
+Popular opinion even adds that the tumult is heard of
+his emerging from the ocean, and that at sunrise forms
+divine are seen, and also the rays about his head. Only
+thus far extend the limits of Nature, if what fame
+reports be true.</p>
+
+<p>The Æstii reside on the right of the Suevian Sea.
+Their dress and customs resemble those of the Suevi,
+but the language is akin to that of Britain. They worship
+the Mother of gods, and wear images of boars,
+without any weapons, superstitiously trusting the goddess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span>
+and the images to safeguard them. But they cultivate
+the soil with much greater zeal than is usual
+with Germans, and they even search the ocean, and are
+the only people who gather amber, which they find in
+the shallows and along the shore. It lay long neglected
+till it gained value from our luxury.</p>
+
+<p>Bordering on the Suiones are the Sitones, agreeing
+with them in all things excepting that they are governed
+by a woman. So emphatically have they degenerated,
+not merely from liberty, but even below a condition of
+bondage. Here end the territories of the Suevi.
+Whether I ought to include the Peucini, the Venedi, and
+the Fenni among the Sarmatæ or the Germani I cannot
+determine, although the Peucini speak the same language
+with the Germani, dress, build, and live like them,
+and resemble them in dirt and sloth.</p>
+
+<p>What further accounts we have are fabulous, and
+these I leave untouched.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_298"><a name="HIPPOLYTE_ADOLPHE_TAINE" id="HIPPOLYTE_ADOLPHE_TAINE">HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE</a></h2>
+
+<h3>History of English Literature</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Two years before the appearance of his "Histoire de la Littérature
+Anglaise" Taine had aroused a lively interest in England
+by his "Notes sur l'Angleterre," a work showing much
+wayward sympathy for the English character, and an irregular
+understanding of English institutions. The same mixed impression
+was produced by the laboriously conceived and brilliantly
+written "History of English Literature." Taine (see Vol. XXIV,
+p. 177) wrote to a theory that often worked out into curious contradictions.
+His method was to show how men have been shaped
+by the environments and tendencies of their age. Unfortunately,
+having formed an idea of the kind of literature our age should
+produce according to his theory, he had eyes for nothing except
+what he expected to find. He went to literature for his confirmations
+of his reading of history. Taine's criticism, in consequence,
+is often incomplete, and more piquant than trustworthy. The
+failure to appreciate some of the great English writers&mdash;notably
+Shakespeare and Milton&mdash;is patent. Still, the critic always had
+the will to be just, and no foreigner has devoted such complimentary
+labour to the formation of a complete estimate of English
+literature. The book was published in 1863&ndash;4.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>Saxon and Norman</i></h4>
+
+<p>History has been revolutionised by the study of
+literatures. A work of literature is now perceived, not
+to be a solitary caprice, but a transcript of contemporary
+manners, from which we may read the style of man's
+feelings for centuries back. By the study of a literature,
+one may construct a moral history, the psychology of a
+people. To find a complete literature is rare. Only
+ancient Greece, and modern France and England offer
+a complete series of great literary monuments. I have
+chosen England because it is alive, and one can see it
+with more detachment than one can see France.</p>
+
+<p>Huge white bodies, cool-blooded, with fierce blue eyes,
+reddish flaxen hair; ravenous stomachs filled with meat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span>
+and cheese and heated by strong drinks; a cold temperament,
+slow to love, home-staying, prone to drunkenness&mdash;these
+are to this day the features which descent and
+climate preserve to the English race. The heavy human
+brute gluts himself with sensations and noise, and this
+appetite finds a grazing-ground in blows and battle.
+Strife for strife's sake such is their pleasure. A race so
+constituted was predisposed to Christianity by its gloom,
+and beyond Christianity foreign culture could not graft
+any fruitful branch on this barbarous stock. The Norman
+conquerors of France had by intermarriage become
+a Latin race, and nimbly educated themselves from the
+Gauls, who boasted of "talking with ease." When they
+crossed to England, they introduced new manners and a
+new spirit. They taught the Saxon how ideas fall in
+order, and which ideas are agreeable; they taught him
+how to be clear, amusing, and pungent. At length, after
+long impotence of Norman literature, which was content
+to copy, and of Saxon literature, which bore no fruit,
+a definite language was attained, and there was room for
+a great writer.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Chaucer</i></h4>
+
+<p>Then Geoffrey Chaucer appeared, inventive though a
+disciple, original though a translator, and by his genius,
+education, and life was enabled to know and depict a
+whole world, but above all to satisfy the chivalric world
+and the splendid courts which shone upon the heights.
+He belonged to it, and took such part in it that his life
+from end to end was that of a man of the world and a
+man of action.</p>
+
+<p>Two motives raised the middle age above the chaos of
+barbarism, one religious, which fashioned the gigantic
+cathedrals, the other secular, which built the feudal fortresses.
+The one produced the adventurous hero, the
+other the mystical monk. These master-passions gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span>
+way at last to monotony of habit and taste for worldliness.
+Something was then needed to make the evening
+hours flow sweetly. The lords at table have finished
+dinner; the poet arrives; they ask him for his subject,
+and he answers "Love."</p>
+
+<p>There is something more pleasant than a fine narrative,
+and that is a collection of fine narratives, especially
+when the narratives are all of different colouring. This
+collection Chaucer gave us, and more. If over-excited,
+he is always graceful, polished, full of light banter, half-mockeries,
+somewhat gossipy. An elegant speaker, facile,
+every ready to smile, he makes of love not a passion
+but a gay feast. But if he was romantic and gay after
+the fashion of his age, he also had a fashion of his own.
+He observes characters, notes their differences, studies
+the coherence of their parts, brings forward living and
+distinct persons&mdash;a thing unheard of in his time. It is
+the English positive good sense and aptitude for seeing
+the inside of things beginning to appear. Chaucer ceases
+to gossip, and thinks. Each tale is suited to the teller.
+Instead of surrendering himself to the facility of glowing
+improvisation, he plans. All his tales are bound together
+by veritable incidents which spring from the characters
+of the personages, and are such as we light upon in our
+travels. He advanced beyond the threshold of his art,
+but he paused in the vestibule. He half-opens the door
+of the temple, but does not take his seat there; at most
+he sat down at intervals. His voice is like that of a boy
+breaking into manhood. He sets out as if to quit the
+middle ages; but in the end he is still there.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Renaissance</i></h4>
+
+<p>For seventeen centuries a deep and sad thought had
+weighed upon the spirit of man&mdash;the idea of his impotence
+and decadence. Greek corruption, Roman oppression,
+and the dissolution of the old world had given it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span>
+birth; it, in its turn, had produced a stoical resignation,
+an epicurean indifference, Alexandrian mysticism, and
+the Christian hope in the Kingdom of God. At last
+invention makes another start. All was renewed, America
+and the Indies were added to the map. The system
+of the universe was propounded, the experimental sciences
+were set on foot, art and literature shot forth like
+a harvest, and religion was transformed. It seems as
+though men had suddenly opened their eyes and seen.
+They attained a new and superior kind of intelligence
+which produced extraordinary warmth of soul, a super-abundant
+and splendid imagination, reveries, visions,
+artists, believers, founders, creators. This was Europe's
+grand age, and the most notable epoch of human growth.
+To this day we live from its sap. To vent the feelings,
+to set free boldly on all the roads of existence the pack
+of appetites and instincts, this was the craving which the
+manners of the time betrayed. It was "merry England,"
+as they called it then. It was not yet stern and constrained.
+It extended widely, freely, and rejoiced to find
+itself so expanded. A few sectarians, chiefly in the
+towns, clung gloomily to the Bible; but the Court, and
+the men of the world sought their teachers and their
+heroes from Pagan Greece and Rome. Nearer still was
+another Paganism, that of Italy, and civilisation was
+drawn thence as from a spring. Transplanted into different
+races and climates, this paganism received from
+each a distinct character&mdash;in England it becomes English.
+Here Surrey&mdash;the English Petrarch&mdash;introduced a new
+style, a manly style, which marks a great transformation
+of the mind. He looks forward to the last line while
+writing the first, and keeps the strongest word for the
+last. He collects his phrases in harmonious periods, and
+by his inversions adds force to his ideas. Every epithet
+contains an idea, every metaphor a sentiment. Those
+who have ideas now possess in the new-born art an instrument
+capable of expressing them. In half a century<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span>
+English writers had introduced every artifice of language,
+period, and style.</p>
+
+<p>Luxuriance and irregularity were the two features of
+the new literature. Sir Philip Sydney may be selected
+as exhibiting the greatness and the folly of the prevailing
+taste. How can his pastoral epic, "The Arcadia," be
+described? It is but a recreation, a poetical romance
+written in the country for the amusement of a sister, a
+work of fashion, a relic, but it shows the best of the
+general spirit, the jargon of the world of culture, fantastic
+imagination, excessive sentiment, a medley of events
+which suited men scarcely recovered from barbarism.
+At his period men's heads were full of tragical images,
+and Sydney's "Arcadia" contains enough of them to
+supply half a dozen epics. And Sydney was only a soldier
+in an army; there is a multitude about him, a multitude
+of poets. How happens it that when this generation
+was exhausted true poetry ended in England as true
+painting in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch
+of the mind came and passed away. These men had
+new ideas and no theories in their heads. Their emotions
+were not the same as ours. For them all things had a
+soul, and though they had no more beauty then than
+now, men found them more beautiful.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Spenser</i></h4>
+
+<p>Among all the poems of this time there is one truly
+divine&mdash;Spenser's "Faërie Queene." Everything in his
+life was calculated to lead Spenser to ideal poetry; but
+the heart within is the true poet. Before all, his was a
+soul captivated by sublime and chaste beauty. Philosophy
+and landscapes, ceremonies and ornaments, splendours of
+the country and the court, on all which he painted or
+thought he impressed his inward nobleness. Spenser
+remains calm in the fervour of invention. He is epic,
+that is, a narrator. No modern is more like Homer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span>
+Like Homer, he is always simple and clear; he makes
+no leap, he omits no argument, he preserves the natural
+sequence of ideas while presenting noble classical images.
+Like Homer, again, he is redundant, ingenuous: even
+childish. He says everything, and repeats without limit
+his ornamental epithets.</p>
+
+<p>To expand in epic faculties in the region where his
+soul is naturally borne, he requires an ideal stage, situated
+beyond the bounds of reality, in a world which
+could never be. His most genuine sentiments are fairy-like.
+Magic is the mould of his mind. He carries everything
+that he looks upon into an enchanted land. Only
+the world of chivalry could have furnished materials for
+so elevated a fancy. It is the beauty in the poet's heart
+which his whole works try to express, a noble yet laughing
+beauty, English in sentiment, Italian in externals,
+chivalric in subject, representing a unique epoch, the
+appearance of Paganism in a Christian race, and the
+worship of form by an imagination of the North.</p>
+
+<p>Among the prose writers of the Pagan renaissance, two
+may be singled out as characteristic, namely, Robert
+Burton&mdash;an ecclesiastic and university recluse who dabbled
+in all the sciences, was gifted with enthusiasm and
+spasmodically gay, but as a rule sad and morose, and
+according to circumstances a poet, an eccentric, a humorist,
+a madman, or a Puritan&mdash;and Francis Bacon, the
+most comprehensive, sensible, originative mind of the
+age; a great and luminous intellect. After more than
+two centuries it is still to Bacon that we go to discover
+the theory of what we are attempting and doing.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Theatre</i></h4>
+
+<p>The theatre was a special product of the English
+Renaissance. If ever there was a living and natural
+work, it is here. There were already seven theatres in
+Shakespeare's time, so great and universal was the taste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span>
+for representations. The inborn instincts of the people
+had not been tamed, nor muzzled, nor diminished. We
+hear from the stage as from the history of the times,
+the fierce murmur of all the passions. Not one of them
+was lacking. The poets who established the drama, carried
+in themselves the sentiments which the drama represents.
+Greene, Marlowe, and the rest, were ill-regulated,
+passionate, outrageously vehement and audacious. The
+drama is found in Marlowe as the plant in the seed, and
+Marlowe was a primitive man, the slave of his passions,
+the sport of his dreams. Shakespeare, Beaumont,
+Fletcher, Jonson, Webster, Massinger, Ford, appear
+close upon each other, a new and favoured generation,
+flourishing in the soil fertilised by the efforts of the
+generation which preceded them. The characters they
+produced were such as either excite terror by their violence,
+or pity by their grace. Passion ravages all around
+when their tragic figures are on the stage; and contrasted
+with them is a troop of sweet and timid figures, tender
+before everything, and the most loveworthy it has been
+given to man to depict. The men are warlike, imperious,
+unpolished; the women have sweetness, devotion,
+patience, inextinguishable affection&mdash;a thing unknown in
+distant lands, and in France especially. With these
+women love becomes almost a holy thing. They aim not
+at pleasure but at devotion. When a new civilisation
+brings a new art to light there are about a dozen men
+of talent who express the general idea surrounding one
+or two men of genius who express it thoroughly. The
+first constitute the chorus, the others the leaders. The
+leaders in this movement are Shakespeare and Ben
+Jonson.</p>
+
+<p>Ben Jonson was a genuine Englishman, big and
+coarsely framed, combative, proud, often morose, prone
+to strain splenitic imaginations. His knowledge was vast.
+In an age of great scholars he is one of the best classics
+of his time. Other poets for the most part are visionaries;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span>
+Jonson is all but a logician. Whatever he undertakes,
+whatever be his faults, haughtiness, rough-handling,
+predilection for morality and the past, he is never
+little or commonplace. Nearly all his work consists of
+comedies, not sentimental and fanciful as Shakespeare's,
+but satirical, written to represent and correct follies and
+vices. Even when he grew old his imagination remained
+abundant and fresh. He is the brother of Shakespeare.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Shakespeare</i></h4>
+
+<p>Only this great age could have cradled such a child as
+Shakespeare. What soul! What extent of action, and
+what sovereignty of an unique faculty! What diverse
+creations, and what persistence of the same impress!
+Look now. Do you not see the poet behind the crowd
+of his creations? They have all shown somewhat of
+him. Ready, impetuous, impassioned, delicate, his genius
+is pure imagination, touched more vividly and by slighter
+things than ours. Hence, his style, blooming with exuberant
+images, loaded with exaggerated metaphors. An
+extraordinary species of mind, all-powerful, excessive,
+equally master of the sublime and the base, the most
+creative that ever engaged in the exact copy of the
+details of actual existence, in the dazzling caprice of
+fancy, in the profound complications of superhuman
+passions; a nature inspired, superior to reason, extreme
+in joy and pain, abrupt of gait, stormy and impetuous
+in its transports!</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare images with copiousness and excess; he
+spreads metaphors profusely over all he writes; it is a
+series of painting which is unfolded in his mind, picture
+on picture, image on image, he is forever copying the
+strange and splendid visions which are heaped up within
+him. Such an imagination must needs be vehement.
+Every metaphor is a convulsion. Shakespeare's style is
+a compound of curious impressions. He never sees<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span>
+things tranquilly. Like a fiery and powerful horse, he
+bounds but cannot run. He flies, we creep. He is
+obscure and original beyond all the poets of his or any
+other age&mdash;the most immoderate of all violaters of language,
+the most marvellous of all creators of souls. The
+critic is lost in Shakespeare as in an immense town. He
+can only describe a few monuments and entreat the
+reader to imagine the city.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Christian Renaissance</i></h4>
+
+<p>Following the pagan came the Christian Renaissance
+born of the Reformation, a new birth in harmony with
+the genius of the Germanic peoples. It must be admitted
+that the Reformation entered England by a side door.
+It was established when Henry VIII. permitted the English
+Bible to be published. England had her book.
+Hence have sprung much of the English language and
+half of the English manners; to this day the country is
+Biblical. After the Bible the book most widely-read in
+England is the Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan.
+It is a manual of devotion for the use of simple folk.
+In it we hear a man of the people speaking to the people,
+who would render intelligible to all the terrible doctrine
+of damnation and salvation. Allegory is natural to Bunyan.
+He employs it from necessity. He only grasps
+truth when it is made simple by images. His work is
+allegorical, that it may be intelligible. Bunyan is a poet
+because he is a child. He has the freedom, the tone,
+the ease, the clearness of Homer; he is as close to Homer
+as an Anabaptist tinker could be to a heroic singer.
+He and Milton survived as the two last poets of the
+Reformation, oppressed and insulted, but their work continues
+without noise, for the ideal they raised was, after
+all, that which the time suggested and the race demanded.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>Milton</i></h4>
+
+<p>John Milton was not one of those fevered souls whose
+rapture takes them by fits, and whose inquietude condemns
+them to paint the contradictions of passion. His
+mind was lucid, his imagination limited. He does not
+create souls but constructs arguments. Emotions and
+arguments are arranged beneath a unique sentiment, that
+of the sublime, and the broad river of lyric poetry
+streams from him with even flow, splendid as a cloth
+of gold.</p>
+
+<p>Against external fluctuations he found a refuge in himself;
+and the ideal city which he had built in his soul
+endured impregnable to all assaults. He believed in the
+sublime with the whole force of his nature, and the whole
+authority of his logic. When after a generous education
+he returned from his travels he threw himself into the
+strife of the times heartily, armed with logic, indignation
+and learning, and protected by conviction and conscience.
+I have before me the formidable volume in which his
+prose works were collected. What a book! The chairs
+creak when you place it upon them. How we cannot fix
+our attention on the same point for a page at a time.
+We require manageable ideas; we have disused the big
+two-handed sword of our forefathers. If Michael
+Angelo's prophets could speak, it would be in Milton's
+style. Overloaded with ornaments, infinitely prolonged,
+these periods are triumphant choruses of angelic
+Alleluias sung by deep voices to the accompaniment of
+ten thousand harps of gold. But is he truly a prose-writer?
+Entangled dialectics, a heavy and awkward mind,
+fanatical and ferocious provincialism, the blast and
+temerities of implacable passion, the sublimity of religious
+and lyric exaltation&mdash;we do not recognize in these
+features a man born to explain, persuade, and prove.</p>
+
+<p>As a poet Milton wrote not by impulse but like a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span>
+of letters with the assistance of books, seeing objects as
+much through previous writings as in themselves, adding
+to his images the images of others, borrowing and recasting
+their inventions. He made thus for himself a composite
+and brilliant style, less natural than that of his
+precursors, less fit for effusions, less akin to the lively
+first glow of sensation, but more solid, more regular,
+more capable of concentrating in one large patch of light
+all their sparklings and splendours. He compacted and
+ennobled the poets' domain.</p>
+
+<p>When, however, after seventeen years of fighting and
+misfortune had steeped his soul in religious ideas, mythology
+yielded to theology, the habit of discussion subdued
+the lyric light. The poet no longer sings sublime
+verse, he harangues in grave verse, he gives us correct
+solemn discourses. Adam and Eve the first pair! I
+listen and hear two reasoners of the period&mdash;Colonel
+Hutchinson and his wife. Heavens! dress them at once.
+Folks so cultivated should have invented before all a
+pair of trousers and modesty. This Adam enters Paradise
+via England. There he learnt respectability and
+moral speechifying. Adam was your true <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">pater familias</i>
+with a vote, an old Oxford man, consulted at need by
+his wife, and dealing out to her with prudent measure
+the scientific explanations which she requires. The flow
+of dissertations never pauses. From Paradise it gets into
+Heaven. Milton's Jehovah is a grave king who maintains
+a suitable state something like Charles I. The finest
+thing in connection with Paradise is Hell; and in this
+history of God, the chief part is taken by the devil. No
+poetic creation equals in horror and grandeur the spectacle
+that greeted Satan on leaving his dungeon.</p>
+
+<p>But what a heaven! One would rather enter Charles I's
+troops of lackeys, or Cromwell's Ironsides. What a gap
+between this monarchical frippery and the visions of
+Dante! To the poet of the Apocalypse the voice of the
+deity was "as the sound of many waters; and he had in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span>
+his right hand seven stars; and his countenance was as
+the sun shining in his strength; and when I saw him I
+fell at his feet as dead." When Milton arranged his
+celestial show, he did not fall at his feet as dead.</p>
+
+<p>When we take in, in one view, the vast literary region
+of England, extending from the restoration of the Stuarts
+to the French Revolution, we perceive that all the productions
+bear a classical impress, such as is met with
+neither in the preceding nor in the succeeding time. This
+classical art finds its centre in the labours of Pope, and
+above all in Pope, whose favourite author is Dryden, of
+all English poets the least inspired and the most classical.
+Pope gave himself up to versification. He did not write
+because he thought, but he thought in order to write. I
+wish I could admire his works of imagination, but I cannot.
+I know the machinery. There is, however, a poet
+in Pope, and to discover him we have only to read him
+in fragments. Each verse in Pope is a masterpiece if
+taken alone. There is a classical architecture of ideas,
+and of all the masters who have practised it in England
+Pope is the most skilled.</p>
+
+<h4><i>The Modern Spirit</i></h4>
+
+<p>The spirit of the modern revolution broke out first in
+a Scotch peasant, Robert Burns. Scarcely ever was seen
+together more of misery and talent. Burns cries out in
+favour of instinct and joy. Love was his main business.
+In him for the first time a poet spoke as men speak, or,
+rather, as they think, without premeditation, with a mixture
+of all styles. Burns was much in advance of his
+age, and the life of men in advance of their age is not
+wholesome. He died worn out at 37. In him old narrow
+moralities give place to the wide sympathy of the modern
+man.</p>
+
+<p>Now appeared the English romantic school. Among
+the multitude of its writers we may distinguish Southey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span>
+a clever man, a producer of decorative poems to suit the
+fashion; Coleridge, a poor fellow who had steeped himself
+in mystical theories; Thomas More, a witty railer;
+and Walter Scott, the favourite of his age, who was read
+over the whole of Europe, was almost equal to Shakespeare,
+had more popularity than Voltaire, earned about
+£200,000, and taught us all history. Scott gave to Scotland
+a citizenship of literature. Scott loves men from
+the bottom of his heart. By his fundamental honesty and
+wide humanity he was the Homer of modern life.</p>
+
+<p>When the philosophical spirit passed from Germany
+to England, transformed itself and became Anglican,
+deformed itself and became revolutionary, it produced
+a Wordsworth, a Byron, a Shelley. Wordsworth, a
+new Cowper, with less talent and more ideas, was essentially
+an interior man, engrossed by the concerns of the
+soul. To such men life becomes a grave business on
+which we must incessantly and scrupulously reflect.
+Wordsworth was a wise and happy man, a thinker and
+dreamer, who read and walked and listened in deep calm
+to his own thoughts. The peace was so great within
+him and around him that he could perceive the imperceptible.
+He saw grandeur and beauty in the trivial events
+which weave the woof of our most commonplace days.
+His "Excursion" is like a Protestant temple&mdash;august
+though bare and monstrous.</p>
+
+<p>Shelley, one of the greatest poets of the age, beautiful
+as an angel, of extraordinary precocity, sweet, generous,
+tender, overflowing with gifts of heart, mind, birth, and
+fortune, marred his life by introducing into his conduct
+the enthusiastic imagination he should have kept for his
+verse. His world is beyond our own. We move in it
+between heaven and earth, in abstraction, dreamland,
+symbolism. Shelley loved desert and solitary places,
+where man enjoys the pleasure of believing infinite what
+he sees&mdash;infinite as his soul. Verily there is a soul in
+everything; in the universe is a soul; even beyond the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span>
+sensible form shines a secret essence and something
+divine which we catch sight of by sublime illuminations,
+never reaching or penetrating it. The poets hear the
+great heart of nature beat; they would reach it. One
+alone, Byron, succeeds.</p>
+
+<p>I have reserved for the last the greatest and most English
+artist, from whom we may learn more truths of his
+country and of his age than from all the rest. All styles
+appear dull, and all souls sluggish by the side of Byron's.
+No such great poet has had so narrow an imagination.
+They are his own sorrows, his own revolts, his own travels,
+which, hardly transformed and modified, he introduces
+into his verses. He never could make a poem save
+of his own heart. If Goethe was the poet of the universe,
+Byron was the poet of the individual; and if the
+German genius found its interpretation in the one, the
+English genius found its interpretation in the other.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_312"><a name="HENRY_DAVID_THOREAU" id="HENRY_DAVID_THOREAU">HENRY DAVID THOREAU</a></h2>
+
+<h3>"Walden"</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Henry David Thoreau, America's poet-naturalist, as he might
+be called, was born at Concord, Mass., on July 12, 1817. His
+great-grandparents were natives of the Channel Islands, whence
+his grandfather emigrated. Thoreau was educated at Hartford,
+and began work as a teacher, but under the influence of Emerson,
+in whose house he lived at intervals, made writing his hobby
+and a study of the outdoor world his occupation. In 1845, as related
+in "Walden," he built himself a shanty near Walden Pond,
+on land belonging to Emerson. There he busied himself with
+writing his "Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers," and
+in recording his observations in the woods. After the Walden
+experiment he mingled the pursuit of literature and the doing
+of odd jobs for a living. His books, "The Maine Woods," "A
+Yankee in Canada," "Excursions in Field and Wood," were
+mostly published after his death. He died on May 6, 1862, from
+consumption. Emerson, Hawthorne, and Alcott were his warm
+friends in life, and helped the world to appreciate his genius.
+A poet in heart, Thoreau was only successful in giving his
+poetry a prose setting, but that setting is harmonised with the
+utmost delicacy. No one has produced more beautiful effects in
+English prose with simpler words.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>The Simple Life</i></h4>
+
+<p>When I wrote the following pages, I lived alone, in
+the woods, a mile from any neighbour, in a house I had
+built for myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord,
+Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labour
+of my hands only. I lived there two years and two
+months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Men labour under a mistake. By a seeming fate,
+commonly called necessity, they are employed laying up
+treasures which moth and rust will corrupt. It is a fool's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span>
+life, as they will find when they get to the end of it if
+not before.</p>
+
+<p>But it is never too late to give up our prejudices.
+What old people say you cannot do, you try and find
+that you can. I have lived some thirty years and I have
+yet to hear the first syllable of valuable advice from my
+seniors.</p>
+
+<p>To many creatures, there is but one necessity of life&mdash;food.
+None of the brute creation require more than
+food and shelter. The necessaries of life for man in
+this climate may be distributed under the several heads
+of food, shelter, clothing, and fuel. I find by my own
+experience a few implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a
+wheelbarrow, etc., and for the studious, lamplight, stationery,
+and access to a few books, rank next to necessaries,
+and can all be obtained at a trifling cost. Most
+of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of
+life, are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.
+None can be an impartial or wise observer of human life
+but from the vantage ground of voluntary poverty.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Ideals</i></h4>
+
+<p>If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend
+my life in years past it would probably astonish those
+who know nothing about it.</p>
+
+<p>I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle dove,
+and am still on their trail. Many are the travellers I
+have spoken, concerning them, describing their tracks
+and what calls they answered to. I have met one or two
+who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse,
+and even seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and
+they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they had
+lost them themselves.</p>
+
+<p>How many mornings, summer and winter, before any
+neighbour was stirring about his business, have I been
+about mine! So many autumn, aye, and winter days,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span>
+spent outside the town trying to hear what was in the
+wind, to hear and carry it. At other times waiting at
+evening on the hill-tops for the sky to fall that I might
+catch something, though I never caught much, and that,
+manna-wise, would dissolve again in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>For many years I was self-appointed inspector of
+snow storms and rain storms, and did my duty faithfully;
+surveyor, if not of highways, then of forest paths.
+I looked after the wild stock of the town. I have
+watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the
+nettle tree, the red pine and the black ash, the white
+grape and the yellow violet, which might have withered
+else in dry seasons.</p>
+
+<p>My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not to live
+cheaply nor to live dearly there, but to transact some
+private business with the fewest obstacles.</p>
+
+<h4><i>House Building</i></h4>
+
+<p>When I consider my neighbours, the farmers of Concord,
+I find that for the most part they have been toiling
+twenty, thirty, or forty years, that they may become the
+real owners of their farms; and we may regard one-third
+of that toil as the cost of their houses. And when the
+farmer has got his house he may not be the richer but
+the poorer for it, and it be the house that has got him.
+The very simplicity and nakedness of men's life in the
+primitive ages imply that they left him still a sojourner
+in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep
+he contemplated his journey again. He dwelt as it were
+in the tent of this world. We now no longer camp as
+for a night, but have settled down on earth and forgotten
+Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and
+went down to the woods by Walden Pond, nearest to
+where I intended to build my house, and began to cut
+down some tall, arrowy, white pines, still in their youth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span>
+for timber. It was a pleasant hillside where I worked,
+covered with pine woods, through which I looked out on
+the pond, and a small open field in the woods where pines
+and hickories were springing up. Before I had done I
+was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree,
+having become better acquainted with it.</p>
+
+<p>By the middle of April my house was framed and
+ready for raising. At length, in the beginning of May,
+with the help of some of my acquaintances, rather to
+improve so good an occasion for neighbourliness than
+from any necessity, I set up the frame of my house. I
+began to occupy it on the 4th of July, as soon as it was
+boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully
+feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious
+to rain, but before boarding I laid the foundation
+of a chimney. I built the chimney after my hoeing
+in the fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth,
+doing my cooking in the meantime out of doors on the
+ground, early in the morning. When it stormed before
+my bread was baked I fixed a few boards over the fire,
+and sat under them to watch my loaf, and passed some
+pleasant hours in that way.</p>
+
+<p>The exact cost of my house, not counting the work, all
+of which was done by myself, was just over twenty-eight
+dollars. I thus found that the student who wishes for a
+shelter can obtain one for a lifetime at an expense not
+greater than the rent which he now pays annually.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Farming</i></h4>
+
+<p>Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or
+twelve dollars by some honest and agreeable method, in
+order to meet my unusual expenses, I planted about two
+acres and a half of light and sandy soil near it, chiefly
+with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn,
+peas, and turnips. I was obliged to hire a team and a
+man for the ploughing, though I held the plough myself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span>
+My farm outgoes for the first season were, for employment,
+seed, work, etc., 14 dollars 72½ cents. I got twelve
+bushels of beans and eighteen bushels of potatoes, besides
+some peas and sweet corn. My whole income from
+the farm was 23 dollars 43 cents, a profit of 8 dollars
+71½ cents, besides produce consumed.</p>
+
+<p>The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the
+land that I required, about a third of an acre, and I
+learned from the experience of both years, not being in
+the least awed by many celebrated works on husbandry,
+that if one would live simply and eat only the crop which
+he raised, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of
+ground, and that it would be cheaper to spade up that
+than to use oxen to plough it, and he could do all his
+necessary farm work, as it were, with his left hand at
+odd hours in the summer.</p>
+
+<p>My food for nearly two years was rye and Indian
+meal without yeast, potatoes, rice, a very little salt pork,
+molasses and salt, and my drink water. I learned from
+my two years' experience that it would cost incredibly
+little trouble to obtain one's necessary food even in this
+latitude, and that a man may use as simple a diet as the
+animals and yet retain health and strength.</p>
+
+<p>Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt,
+genuine hoe-cakes, which I baked before my fire out of
+doors, but at last I found a mixture of rye and Indian
+meal most convenient and agreeable. I made a study of
+the ancient and indispensable art of bread-making, going
+back to the primitive days. Leaven, which some
+deem to be the soul of bread, I discovered was not indispensable.</p>
+
+<p>Thus I found I could avoid all trade and barter, so
+far as my food was concerned, and having a shelter
+already, it would only remain to get clothing and fuel.
+My furniture, part of which I made myself, consisted of
+a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a looking-glass, three
+inches in diameter, a pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span>
+a skillet, and a frying pan, a dipper, a wash bowl, two
+knives and forks, three plates, one cup, one spoon, a jug
+for oil, a jug for molasses, and a japanned lamp. When
+I have met an immigrant tottering under a bundle which
+contained his all, I have pitied him, not because it was
+his all, but because he had all that to carry.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Earning a Living</i></h4>
+
+<p>For more than five years I maintained myself solely
+by the labour of my hands, and I found that by working
+for about six weeks in the year I could meet all the expenses
+of living. The whole of my winters, as well as
+most of my summers, I had free and clear for study.
+I have thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that
+my expenses were out of proportion to my income, for I
+was obliged to dress and train, not to say think and believe
+accordingly; and I lost my time into the bargain.
+I have tried trade; but I have learned that trade curses
+everything it handles; and though you trade in messages
+from Heaven, the whole curse of trade attaches to the
+business. I found that the occupation of day-labourer
+was the most independent of any, especially as it required
+only thirty or forty days in the year to support me. The
+labourer's day ends with the going down of the sun,
+and he is then free to devote himself to his chosen pursuit,
+independent of his labour; but his employer, who
+speculates from month to month, has no respite from one
+end of the year to the other.</p>
+
+<p>But all this is very selfish, I have heard some of my
+townsmen say. I confess that I have hitherto indulged
+very little in philanthropic enterprises. However, when
+I thought to indulge myself in this respect by maintaining
+certain poor persons as comfortably as I maintain
+myself, and even ventured so far as to make them the
+offer, they one and all unhesitatingly preferred to remain
+poor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>The Life with Nature</i></h4>
+
+<p>When I took up my abode in the woods I found myself
+suddenly neighbour to the birds, not by having imprisoned
+one, but having caged myself near them. I was
+not only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent
+the garden and orchard, but to those wilder and
+more thrilling songsters of the forest which never, or
+rarely, serenade a villager.</p>
+
+<p>Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my
+life of equal simplicity, and I may say, innocence, with
+Nature herself. I have been as sincere a worshipper of
+Aurora as the Greeks. Morning brings back the heroic
+ages. Then, for an hour at least, some part of us awakes
+which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.</p>
+
+<p>Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life?
+As for work, we haven't any of any consequence. We
+have the Saint Vitus' dance, and cannot possibly keep
+our heads still. Hardly a man takes a half hour's nap
+after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head
+and asks: "What's the news?" as if the rest of mankind
+had stood his sentinels. "Pray tell me anything
+new that has happened to a man anywhere on this globe."
+And he reads over his coffee and rolls that a man has
+had his eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito
+River, never dreaming the while that he lives in the
+dark, unfathomed mammoth cave of this world, and has
+but the rudiment of an eye himself.</p>
+
+<p>Let us spend our day as deliberately as Nature. Let
+us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without
+perturbation. Let us not be upset and overwhelmed in
+that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner situated
+in the meridian shadows.</p>
+
+<p>Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it,
+but while I drink I see the sandy bottom, and detect how
+shallow it is. Its thin current glides away, but eternity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span>
+remains. I would drink deeper, fish in the sky, whose
+bottom is pebbly with stars.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Reading</i></h4>
+
+<p>My residence was more favourable, not only to thought
+but to serious reading, than a university; and though I
+was beyond the range of the morning circulating library
+I had more than ever come within the influence of those
+books which circulate round the world. I kept Homer's
+"Iliad" on my table through the summer, though I looked
+at his pages only now and then. To read well&mdash;that is
+to read true books in a true spirit&mdash;is a noble exercise
+and one that will task the reader more than any exercise
+which the customs of the day esteem. Books must be
+read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.
+No wonder that Alexander carried the "Iliad" with
+him on his expeditions in a precious casket. A written
+word is the choicest of relics.</p>
+
+<h4><i>In the Sun</i></h4>
+
+<p>I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans.
+Nay, I often did better than this. There were times
+when I could not afford to sacrifice the bloom of the
+present moment to any work, whether of the head or
+hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes
+on a summer morning, having taken my accustomed
+bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon,
+rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and
+sumachs in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the
+birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house,
+until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the
+noise of some traveller's waggon on the distant highway,
+I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those
+seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better
+than any work of the hands would have been. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span>
+were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over
+and above my usual allowance. I realised what the
+Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of
+works. Instead of singing like the birds I silently
+smiled at my incessant good fortune. This was sheer
+idleness to my fellow townsmen, no doubt, but if the
+birds and flowers had tried me by their standard I should
+not have been found wanting.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Night Sounds</i></h4>
+
+<p>Regularly at half past seven, in one part of the summer,
+the whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half
+an hour, sitting on a stump by my door, or upon the
+ridge pole of the house. When other birds were still the
+screech owls took up the strain, like mourning women
+their ancient u-lu-lu. Wise midnight hags! I love to
+hear their wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along
+the woodside. They give me a new sense of the variety
+and capacity of that nature which is our common dwelling.
+<em>Oh-o-o-o-o that I had never been bor-r-r-r-n</em>! sighs
+one on this side of the pond, and circles, with the restlessness
+of despair to some new perch on the gray oaks.
+Then: <em>That I had never been bor-r-r-r-n</em>! echoes another
+on the further side with tremulous sincerity, and
+<em>bor-r-r-r-n</em>! comes faintly from far in the Lincoln woods.
+I require that there are owls. They represent the stark
+twilight and unsatisfied thoughts which all have.</p>
+
+<p>I am not sure that ever I heard the sound of cock
+crowing from my clearing, and I thought that it might
+be worth the while to keep a cockerel for his music
+merely, as a singing bird. The note of this once wild
+Indian pheasant is certainly the most remarkable of any
+bird's, and if they could be naturalised without being
+domesticated it would soon become the most famous
+sound in our woods.</p>
+
+<p>I kept neither dog, cat, cow, pig, nor hens, so that you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span>
+would have said there was a deficiency of domestic
+sounds, neither the churn nor the spinning wheel, nor
+even the singing of the kettle, nor the hissing of the urn,
+nor children crying, to comfort me; only squirrels on the
+roof, a whip-poor-will on the ridge pole, a bluejay
+screaming beneath the window, a woodchuck under the
+house, a laughing loon on the pond, and a fox to bark in
+the night.</p>
+
+<p>This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is
+one sense and imbibes delight through every pore. I go
+and come with a strange liberty in Nature, a part of
+herself. Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar
+leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the lake,
+my serenity is rippled, but not ruffled. Though it is now
+dark the wind still blows and roars in the woods, the
+waves still dash, and some creatures lull the rest with
+their notes. The repose is never complete. The wildest
+animals do not repose but seek their prey now. They are
+Nature's watchmen&mdash;links which connect the days of
+animated life.</p>
+
+<p>I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the
+time. I never found the companion that was never so
+companionable as solitude. A man thinking or working
+is always alone, let him be where he will. I am no more
+lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud. God
+is alone, but the devil, he is far from being alone; he
+sees a great deal of company; he is legion. I am no
+more lonely than a single dandelion in a pasture, or a
+humble bee, or the North Star, or the first spider in a
+new house.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Visitors</i></h4>
+
+<p>In my house I have three chairs: one for solitude, two
+for friendship, three for society. My best room, however&mdash;my
+withdrawing room&mdash;always ready for company,
+was the pine wood behind my house. Thither in
+Summer days, when distinguished guests came, I took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span>
+them, and a priceless domestic swept the floor and kept
+the things in order.</p>
+
+<p>I could not but notice some of the peculiarities of my
+visitors. Girls and boys, and young women generally,
+seemed glad to be in the woods. They looked in the
+pond and at the flowers, and improved their time. Men
+of business, even farmers, thought only of solitude and
+employment, and of the great distance at which I dwelt
+from something or other; and though they said that they
+loved a ramble in the woods occasionally, it was obvious
+that they did not. Restless, committed men, whose time
+was all taken up in getting a living, or keeping it, ministers,
+who spoke of God as if they enjoyed a monopoly
+of the subject, and who could not bear all kinds of
+opinions, doctors, lawyers, and uneasy housekeepers, who
+pried into my cupboard and bed when I was out, young
+men who had ceased to be young, and had concluded
+that it was safest to follow the beaten track of the professions&mdash;all
+these generally said that it was not possible
+to do as much good in my position.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Interference</i></h4>
+
+<p>After hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing in the
+forenoon, I usually bathed again in the pond, washed the
+dust of labour from my person, and for the afternoon
+was absolutely free. Every day or two I strolled to the
+village. As I walked in the woods to see the birds and
+the squirrels, so I walked in the village to see the men
+and the boys. Instead of the wind among the pines I
+heard the carts rattle.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon near the end of the first summer, when
+I went to the village to get a shoe from the cobbler's, I
+was seized and put into jail, because I did not pay a tax
+to, or recognise the authority of, the State. I had gone
+down to the woods for other purposes. But wherever
+a man goes men will pursue and paw him with their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span>
+dirty institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong
+to their desperate Odd Fellows society. However,
+I was released the next day, obtained my mended shoe,
+and returned to the woods in season to get my dinner of
+huckleberries on Fair Haven Hill. I was never molested
+by any person but those who represented the State. I
+had no lock nor bolt but for the desk which held my
+papers, not even a nail to put over my latch or window.
+I never fastened my door night or day, and though I was
+absent several days my house was more respected than
+if it had been surrounded by a file of soldiers.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Exhausted Experience</i></h4>
+
+<p>I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there.
+Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives
+to live and could not spare any more time for that one.
+It is remarkable how easily and insensibly we fall into
+a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.
+I had not lived there a week before my feet wore
+a path from my door to the pond side, and though it is
+five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct.
+So with the paths which the mind travels. How worn
+and dusty then must be the highways of the world&mdash;how
+deep the ruts of tradition and conformity. I learned
+this, at least by my experiment, that if one advances confidently
+in the direction of his dreams, and endeavours to
+live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a
+success unexpected in common hours. In proportion as
+he simplifies his life the laws of the Universe will appear
+less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty
+poverty, nor weakness weakness.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_324"><a name="ALEXIS_DE_TOCQUEVILLE" id="ALEXIS_DE_TOCQUEVILLE">ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE</a></h2>
+
+<h3>Democracy in America</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Alexis de Tocqueville (see Vol. XII, p. 117), being commissioned
+at the age of twenty-six to investigate and report
+on American prisons, made use of his residence in the United
+States to gain a thorough insight into the political institutions
+and social conditions of the great Republic. The results
+of his observations and reflections were given to the world
+in 1835, in the two famous volumes <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">De la Démocratie en
+Amérique</i>, which were followed in 1840 by a third and fourth
+volume under the same title. As an analysis of American
+political institutions De Tocqueville's work has been superseded
+by Mr. Bryce's admirable study of the same subject; but as
+one of the great classics of political philosophy it can never
+be superseded, and has rarely been rivalled. With all a Frenchman's
+simplicity and lucidity he traces the manifold results of
+the democratic spirit; though sometimes an excessive ingenuity,
+which is also French, leads him to over-speculative conclusions.
+The work was received with universal applause.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>I.&mdash;Equality</i></h4>
+
+<p>The most striking impression which I received during
+my residence in the United States was that of the equality
+which reigns there. This equality gives a peculiar character
+to public opinion and to the laws of that country,
+and influences the entire structure of society in the most
+profound degree. Realising that equality, or democracy,
+was rapidly advancing in the Old World also, I determined
+to make a thorough study of democratic principles
+and of their consequences, as they are revealed in the
+western continent.</p>
+
+<p>We have only to review the history of European countries
+from the days of feudalism, to understand that the
+development of equality is one of the great designs of
+Providence; inasmuch as it is universal, inevitable, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span>
+lasting, and that every event and every individual contributes
+to its advancement.</p>
+
+<p>It is impossible to believe that a social movement which
+has proceeded so far as this movement towards equality
+has done, can be arrested by human efforts, or that the
+democracy which has bearded kings and barons can be
+successfully resisted by a wealthy bourgeoisie. We know
+not whither we are moving; we only know that greater
+equality is found to-day among Christian populations
+than has been known before in any age or in any country.</p>
+
+<p>I confess to a kind of religious terror in the presence
+of this irresistible revolution, which has defied every
+obstacle for the last ten centuries. A new political science
+is awaited by a world which is wholly new; but the most
+immediate duties of the statesman are to instruct the
+democracy, if possible to revive its beliefs, to purify its
+morals, to enlighten its inexperience by some knowledge
+of political principles, and to substitute for the blind
+instincts which sway it, the consciousness of its true
+interests.</p>
+
+<p>In the Old World, and in France especially, the more
+powerful, intelligent, and moralised classes have held
+themselves apart from democracy, and the latter has,
+therefore, been abandoned to its own savage instincts.
+The democratic revolution has permeated the whole
+substance of society, without those concomitant changes
+in laws, ideas, habits, and manners which ought to have
+embodied and clothed it. So it is that we indeed have
+democracy, but without those features which should
+have mitigated its vices and liberated its advantages.
+The prestige of royal power is gone, without being replaced
+by the majesty of law, and our people despise
+authority as much as they fear it. Our poor have the
+prejudices of their fathers without their beliefs, their
+ignorance, without their virtues; they have taken self-interest
+for a principle without knowing what their interests
+are. Our society is tranquil, not in the consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span>
+of strength and of well-being, but a sense of
+decrepitude and despair. That is why I have studied
+America, in order that we may ourselves profit by her
+example. I have no intention of writing a panegyric on
+the United States. I have seen more in America than
+America herself; I have sought a revelation of Democracy,
+with all its characters and tendencies, its prejudices
+and its passions.</p>
+
+<h4><i>II.&mdash;Religion and Liberty</i></h4>
+
+<p>Our first consideration is of great importance, and
+must never be lost sight of. The Anglo-American civilisation
+which we find in the United States is the product
+of two perfectly distinct elements, which elsewhere are
+often at war with one another, but have here been
+merged and combined in the most wonderful way; I
+mean the spirit of religion and the spirit of liberty. The
+founders of New England were at the same time ardent
+secretaries and enthusiastic radicals; they were bound
+by the narrowest religious beliefs, but were free from
+all political prejudice.</p>
+
+<p>Thus arose two tendencies which we may trace everywhere
+in American manners, as well as in their lives.
+All political principles, laws, and human institutions
+seem to have become plastic in the hands of the early
+colonists. The bonds which fettered the society in which
+they had been born fell from their limbs; ancient opinions
+which had dominated the world for ages simply disappeared;
+a new career opened for the human race; a
+world without horizons was before them, and they exulted
+in liberty. But outside the limits of the political
+world, they made no ventures of this kind. They abjured
+doubt, renounced their desire for innovation, left untouched
+the veil of the sanctuary, and knelt with awe
+before the truths of religion.</p>
+
+<p>So, in their world of morals, everything was already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span>
+classed, arranged, foreseen, and determined; but in their
+world of politics, everything was agitated, debated, and
+uncertain. In the former they were ruled by a voluntary
+obedience, but in all political affairs they were inspired
+by independence, contempt for experience, and jealous
+of every authority.</p>
+
+<p>Far from impeding one another, these two tendencies,
+which appear so radically opposed, actually harmonise
+and seem even to support each other. Religion sees in
+civil liberty a noble field for the exercise of human
+faculties. Free and powerful in her own sphere, and
+satisfied with the part reserved for her, she knows that
+her sovereignty is all the more securely established when
+she depends only on her own strength and is founded in
+the hearts of men. And liberty, on the other hand,
+recognises in religion the comrade of its struggles and
+triumphs, the cradle of its rights. It knows that religion
+is the safeguard of morals, and that morals are the safeguard
+of the laws, and the judge of the continuance of
+liberty itself.</p>
+
+<h4><i>III.&mdash;Omnipotence of the Majority</i></h4>
+
+<p>The greatest danger to liberty in America lies in the
+omnipotence of the majority. A democratic power is
+never likely to perish for lack of strength or of resources,
+but it may very well fall because of the misdirection of
+its strength and the abuse of its resources. If ever liberty
+is lost in America, it will be due to an oppression of
+minorities which may drive them to an appeal to arms.
+The anarchy which must then result will be due only to
+despotism.</p>
+
+<p>This danger has not escaped the notice of American
+statesmen. Thus, President James Madison said, "It
+is of great importance to republics, not only that society
+should be defended from the oppression of those who
+govern it, but also that one section of society should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span>
+protected against the injustice of another section; for
+justice is the end towards which all government must be
+directed." Again, Jefferson said that "The tyranny of
+legislators is at present, and will be for many years, our
+most formidable danger. The tyranny of the executive
+will arise in its turn, but at a more distant period."
+Jefferson's words are of great importance, for I consider
+him to have been the most powerful apostle that
+democracy has ever had.</p>
+
+<p>But there are certain factors in the United States
+which moderate this tyranny of the majority. Chief
+among these is the absence of any administrative centralisation;
+so that the majority, which has often the tastes
+and instincts of a despot, lacks the instruments and the
+means of tyranny. The local administrative bodies constitute
+so many reefs and breakwaters to retard or divide
+the stream of the popular will.</p>
+
+<p>Not less important, as a counterpoise to the danger
+of democracy, is the strong legal spirit which pervades
+the United States. Lawyers have great influence and
+authority in matters of government. But lawyers are
+strongly imbued with the tasks and habits of mind which
+are most characteristic of aristocracy; they have an instinctive
+liking for forms and for order, a native distaste
+for the will of the multitude, and a secret contempt for
+popular government. Of course, their own personal
+interest may and often does over-ride this professional
+bias. But lawyers will always be, on the whole, friends
+of order and of precedent, and enemies of change. And
+in America, where there are neither nobles nor able
+political writers, and where the people are suspicious of
+the wealthy, the lawyers do, in fact, form the most powerful
+order in politics, and the most intellectual class of
+society. They therefore stand to lose by any innovation,
+and their conservative tendency is reinforced by their
+interests as a class.</p>
+
+<p>A third safeguard against the tyranny of the majority<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span>
+is to be found in the institution of a jury. Almost
+everyone is called at one time or another to sit on a jury,
+and thus learns at least something of the judicial spirit.
+The civil jury has saved English freedom in past times,
+and may be expected to maintain American liberties also.
+It is true that there are many cases, and those often the
+most important, in which the American judge pronounces
+sentence without a jury. Under those circumstances, his
+position is similar to that of a French judge, but his
+moral power is far greater; for the memory and the
+influence of juries are all about him, and he speaks with
+the authority of one who habitually rests upon the jury
+system. In no other countries are the judges so powerful
+as in those where the people are called in to share
+judicial privileges and responsibilities.</p>
+
+<h4><i>IV.&mdash;Equality of Men and Women</i></h4>
+
+<p>Inasmuch as democracy destroys or modifies the various
+inequalities which social traditions have made, it is
+natural to ask whether it has had any effect on that great
+inequality between men and women which is elsewhere
+so conspicuous. We are driven to the conclusion that
+the social movement which places son and father, servant
+and master, and in general, the inferior and superior,
+more nearly on the same level, must raise woman more
+and more to an equality with man.</p>
+
+<p>Let us guard, however, against misconceptions. There
+are people in Europe who confuse the natural qualities
+of the two sexes, and desire that men and women should
+be, not only equal, but also similar to one another.
+That would give them both the same functions, the same
+duties and the same rights, and would have them mingle
+in everything, in work, in pleasures, and in business.
+But the attempt to secure this kind of equality between
+the two sexes, only degrades them both, and must result
+in unmanly men, and unwomanly women.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span>
+The Americans have not thus mistaken the kind of
+democratic equality which ought to hold between man
+and woman. They know that progress does not consist
+in forcing these dissimilar temperaments and faculties
+into the same mould, but in securing that each shall
+fulfil his or her task in the best possible way. They
+have most carefully separated the functions of man and
+woman, in order that the great work of social life may be
+most prosperously carried on.</p>
+
+<p>In America, far more than elsewhere, the lines of
+action of the two sexes have been clearly divided. You
+do not find American women directing the external
+affairs of the family, or entering into business or into
+politics; but neither do you find them obliged to undertake
+the rough labours of the field, or any other work
+requiring physical strength. There are no families so
+poor as to form an exception to this rule.</p>
+
+<p>So it is that American women often unite a masculine
+intelligence and a virile energy with an appearance of
+great refinement and altogether womanly manners.</p>
+
+<p>One has often noticed in Europe a certain tinge of contempt
+even in the flatteries which men lavish on women;
+and although the European often makes himself a slave
+of a woman, it is easy to see that he never really regards
+her as his equal. But in the United States men rarely
+praise women, though they show their esteem for them
+every day.</p>
+
+<p>Americans show, in fact, a full confidence in woman's
+reason, and a profound respect for her liberty. They
+realise that her mind is just as capable as that of man to
+discover truth, and that her heart is just as courageous
+in following it; and they have never tried to shelter or
+to guide her by means of prejudice, ignorance, or fear.</p>
+
+<p>For my part I do not hesitate to say that the singular
+prosperity and the evergrowing power of the American
+people is due to the superiority of American women.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>V.&mdash;The Perfectibility of Man</i></h4>
+
+<p>Equality suggests many ideas which would never have
+arisen without it, and among others the notion that humanity
+can reach perfection&mdash;a theory which has
+practical consequences of great interest.</p>
+
+<p>In countries where the population is classed according
+to rank, profession, and birth, and everyone has to follow
+the career to which he happens to be born, each is conscious
+of limits to his power, and does not attempt to
+struggle against an inevitable destiny. Aristocratic
+peoples do not deny that man may be improved, but they
+think of this as an amelioration of the individual, and not
+as a change in social circumstances, and while they admit
+that humanity has made great progress, they believe in
+certain limits which it cannot pass. They do not think,
+for instance, that we shall arrive at sovereign good or at
+absolute truth.</p>
+
+<p>But in proportion as caste and class-distinction disappear,
+the vision of an ideal perfection arises before the
+human mind. Continual changes are ever taking place,
+some of them to his disadvantage, but the majority to his
+advantage, and the democrat concludes that man in general
+is capable of arriving at perfection. His reverses
+teach him that no one has yet discovered absolute good,
+and his frequent successes excite him to pursue it. Always
+seeking, falling, and rising again, often deceived,
+but never discouraged, he hastens towards an immense
+grandeur which he dimly conceives as the goal of humanity.
+This theory of perfectibility exercises prodigious
+influence even on those who have never thought of it.
+For instance, I ask an American sailor why the ships of
+his country are built to last only a few years; and he tells
+me without hesitation that the art of shipbuilding makes
+such rapid progress every day, that the finest ship constructed
+to-day must be useless after a very short time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span>
+From these words, spoken at random by an uneducated
+man, I can perceive the general and systematic idea
+which guides this great people in every matter.</p>
+
+<h4><i>VI.&mdash;American Vanity</i></h4>
+
+<p>All free people are proud of themselves, but national
+pride takes different forms. The Americans, in their relations
+with strangers, are impatient of the least criticism,
+and absolutely insatiable for praise. The slightest
+congratulation pleases them, but the most extravagant
+eulogium is not enough to satisfy them; they are all the
+time touting for your praise, and if you are slow to give
+it they begin praising themselves. It is as if they were
+doubtful of their own merit. Their vanity is not only
+hungry, but anxious and envious. It gives nothing, and
+asks insistently. It is both supplicant and pugnacious.
+If I tell an American that his country is a fine one, he
+replies, "It is the finest in the world." If I admire the
+liberty which it enjoys, he answers, "There are few
+people worthy of such liberty." I remark on the purity
+of manners in the United States, and he says, "Yes, a
+stranger who knows the corruption of other nations
+must indeed be astonished at us." At length I leave him
+to the contemplation of his country and of himself, but
+he presently runs after me, and will not go away until I
+have repeated it all over again. It is a kind of patriotism
+that worries even those who honour it.</p>
+
+<p>The Englishman, on the contrary, tranquilly enjoys
+the real or imaginary advantages which his country
+affords. He cares nothing for the blame nor for the
+praise of strangers. His attitude towards the whole
+world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve. His
+pride seeks no nourishment; it lives on itself. It is very
+remarkable that the two people who have arisen from
+the same stock should differ so radically in their way
+of feeling and speaking.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span>
+In aristocratic countries, great families possess enormous
+privileges, on which their pride rests. They
+consider these privileges as a natural right inherent in
+their person, and their feeling of superiority is therefore
+a peaceful one. They have no reason to boast of the prerogatives
+which everyone concedes to them without question.
+So, when public affairs are directed by an aristocracy,
+the national pride tends to take this reserved,
+haughty, and independent form.</p>
+
+<p>Under democratic conditions, on the contrary, the
+least advantage which anyone gains has great importance
+in his eyes; for everyone is surrounded by millions very
+nearly his equal. His pride therefore becomes anxious
+and insatiable; he founds it on miserable trifles and
+defends it obstinately. Again, most Americans have
+recently acquired the advantages which they possess,
+and therefore have inordinate pleasure in contemplating
+these advantages, and in showing them to others; and as
+these advantages may escape at any moment, they are
+always uneasy about them, and look at them again and
+again to see that they still have them. Men who live in
+democracies love their country as they love themselves,
+and model their national vanity upon their private vanity.
+The close dependence of this anxious and insatiable
+vanity of democratic peoples upon the equality and fragility
+of their conditions is seen from the fact that the
+members of the proudest nobility show exactly the same
+passionate jealousy for the most trifling circumstances
+of their life when these become unstable or are contested.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="ch_334"><a name="IZAAK_WALTON" id="IZAAK_WALTON">IZAAK WALTON</a></h2>
+
+<h3>The Compleat Angler</h3>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>Izaak Walton, English author and angler, was born at Stafford
+on August 9, 1593, and until about his fiftieth year lived as a
+linen-draper in London. He then retired from business and
+lived at Stafford for a few years; but returned to London in
+1650, and spent his closing years at Winchester, where he died
+on December 15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral there.
+Walton was thrice married, his second wife being sister of the
+future Bishop Ken. He had a large acquaintance with eminent
+clergymen, and among his literary friends were Ben Jonson and
+Michael Drayton. He was author of several charming biographies,
+including those of the poet Donne, 1640, of Sir Henry
+Wotton, 1651, of Richard Hooker, 1652, and of George Herbert,
+1670. But by far his most famous work is "The Compleat
+Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's Recreation," published in
+1653. There were earlier books on the subject in English, such
+as Dame Juliana Berner's "Treatise pertaining to Hawking,
+Hunting, and Fishing with an Angle," 1486; the "Book of
+Fishing with Hook and Line," 1590; a poem, "The Secrets of
+Angling," by John Denny, 1613; and several others. The new
+thing in Walton's book, and the secret of its unfading popularity,
+is the charm of temperament. Charles Lamb well said that it
+"breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and simplicity of
+heart." A sequel to the book, entitled the "Second Part of the
+Compleat Angler," was written by Charles Cotton, and published
+in 1676.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4><i>The Virtues of Angling</i></h4>
+
+<h5>PISCATOR, VENATOR, AND AUCEPS</h5>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> You are well overtaken, gentlemen! A
+good morning to you both! I have stretched my legs
+up Tottenham Hill to overtake you, hoping your business
+may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going
+this fine fresh May morning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your
+hopes, for my purpose is to drink my morning's draught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span>
+at the Thatched House. And, sir, as we are all so happy
+to have a fine morning, I hope we shall each be the happier
+in each other's company.</p>
+
+<p><i>Auceps.</i> Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company
+as far as Theobald's, for then I turn up to a friend's
+house, who mews a hawk for me. And as the Italians
+say, good company in a journey maketh the way to seem
+the shorter, I, for my part, promise you that I shall be
+as free and open-hearted as discretion will allow with
+strangers.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> I am right glad to hear your answers. I
+shall put on a boldness to ask you, sir, whether business
+or pleasure caused you to be up so early, for this other
+gentleman hath declared he is going to see a hawk that a
+friend mews for him.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Sir, I intend to go hunting the otter.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Those villainous vermin, for I hate them
+perfectly, because they love fish so well, or rather destroy
+so much. For I, sir, am a brother of the angle.</p>
+
+<p><i>Auceps.</i> And I profess myself a falconer, and have
+heard many grave, serious men scoff at anglers and pity
+them, as it is a heavy, contemptible, dull recreation.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing
+to scoff at any art or recreation; a little wit mixed with
+all nature, confidence, and malice will do it; but though
+they often venture boldly, yet they are often caught, even
+in their own trap.</p>
+
+<p>There be many men that are by others taken to be
+serious, and grave men, which we contemn and pity: men
+that are taken to be grave because nature hath made
+them of a sour complexion&mdash;money-getting men, men
+that are condemned to be rich; for these poor, rich men,
+we anglers pity them most perfectly. No, sir! We
+enjoy a contentedness above the reach of such dispositions.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Sir, you have almost amazed me; for
+though I am no scoffer, yet I have&mdash;I pray let me speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span>
+it without offence&mdash;always looked upon anglers as more
+patient and simple men than, I fear, I shall find you to
+be.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness
+to be impatience! As for my simplicity, if by that
+you mean a harmlessness which was usually found in
+the primitive Christians, who were, as most anglers are,
+followers of peace&mdash;then myself and men of my profession
+will be glad to be so understood. But if, by simplicity,
+you mean to express a general defect, I hope in
+time to disabuse you.</p>
+
+<p>But, gentlemen, I am not so unmannerly as to engross
+all the discourse to myself; I shall be most glad to hear
+what you can say in the commendation of your several
+recreations.</p>
+
+<p><i>Auceps.</i> The element I use to trade in, the air, is an
+element of more worth than weight; an element that
+doubtless exceeds both the earth and water; in it my
+noble falcon ascends to such a height as the dull eye of
+man is not able to reach to; my troop of hawks soars
+up on high, so that they converse with the gods.</p>
+
+<p>And more, the worth of this element of air is such
+that all creatures whatsoever stand in need of it. The
+waters cannot preserve their fish without air; witness
+the not breaking of ice and the result thereof.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Well, sir, I will now take my turn. The
+earth, that solid, settled element, is the one on which I
+drive my pleasant, wholesome, hungry trade. What pleasure
+doth man take in hunting the stately stag, the cunning
+otter! The earth breeds and nourishes the mighty elephant,
+and also the least of creatures! It puts limits to
+the proud and raging seas, and so preserves both man
+and beast; daily we see those that are shipwrecked and
+left to feed haddocks; but, Mr. Piscator, I will not be so
+uncivil as not to allow you time for the commendation
+of angling; I doubt we shall hear a watery discourse&mdash;and
+I hope not a long one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span>
+<i>Piscator.</i> Gentlemen, my discourse is likely to prove
+suitable to my recreation&mdash;calm and quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element
+upon which the spirit of God did first move. There
+be those that profess to believe that all bodies are water,
+and may be reduced back into water only.</p>
+
+<p>The water is more productive than the earth. The
+increase of creatures that are bred in the water is not
+only more miraculous, but more advantageous to man for
+the preventing of sickness. It is observed that the casting
+of Lent and other fish days hath doubtless been the
+cause of these many putrid, shaking agues, to which this
+country of ours is now more subject.</p>
+
+<p>To pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths
+the Romans have made fish the mistress of all their
+entertainments; and have had music to usher in their
+sturgeons, lampreys, and mullets.</p>
+
+<p><i>Auceps.</i> Sir, it is with such sadness that I must part
+with you here, for I see Theobald's house. And so I
+part full of good thoughts. God keep you both.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Sir, you said angling was of great antiquity,
+and a perfect art, not easily attained to. I am
+desirous to hear further concerning those particulars.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an
+artificial fly? A trout! more sharp-sighted than any
+hawk! Doubt not, angling is an art worth your learning.
+The question is rather, whether you be capable of learning
+it? Angling is like poetry&mdash;men are to be born
+so. Some say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood, and
+Moses makes mention of fish-hooks, which must imply
+anglers.</p>
+
+<p>But as I would rather prove myself a gentleman by
+being learned, and humble, valiant, and inoffensive, virtuous,
+and communicable, than by any fond ostentation
+of riches, or, wanting those virtues, boast these were in
+my ancestors, so if this antiquity of angling shall be an
+honour to this art, I shall be glad I made mention of it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span>
+I shall tell you that in ancient times a debate hath
+arisen, whether the happiness of man doth consist more
+in contemplation or action?</p>
+
+<p>Some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of
+the first by saying that the nearer we mortals approach
+to God by way of imitation, the more happy we are.
+And they say God enjoys Himself only by a contemplation
+of His own infiniteness, eternity, power, goodness
+and the like.</p>
+
+<p>On the contrary, there want not men of equal authority
+that prefer action to be the more excellent, such as
+experiments in physics for the ease and prolongation of
+man's life. Concerning which two opinions I shall
+forbear to add a third, and tell you, my worthy friend,
+that both these meet together and do most properly
+belong to the most honest, quiet, and harmless art of
+angling.</p>
+
+<p>An ingenious Spaniard says that "rivers and the inhabitants
+thereof were made for wise men to contemplate,
+and fools to pass by without consideration."</p>
+
+<p>There be many wonders reported of rivers, as of a
+river in Epirus, that puts out any lighted torch, and
+kindles any torch that was not lighted; the river Selarus,
+that in a few hours turns a rod to stone, and mention is
+made of the like in England, and many others on historical
+faith.</p>
+
+<p>But to tell you something of the monsters, or fish, call
+them what you will, Pliny says the fish called the Balæna
+is so long and so broad as to take up more length
+and breadth than two acres of ground; and in the river
+Ganges there be eels thirty feet long.</p>
+
+<p>I know we islanders are averse to the belief of these
+wonders, but there are many strange creatures to be now
+seen. Did not the Prophet David say, "They that occupy
+themselves in deep water see the wonderful works
+of God"; and the apostles of our Saviour, were not they
+four simple fishermen; He found that the hearts of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span>
+men, by nature, were fitted for contemplation and quietness&mdash;men
+of sweet and peaceable spirits, as indeed most
+anglers are.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Sir, you have angled me on with much
+pleasure to the Thatched House, for I thought we had
+three miles of it. Let us drink a civil cup to all lovers of
+angling, of which number I am now willing to count
+myself, and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the
+time and place appointed, we two will do nothing but
+talk of fish and fishing.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> 'Tis a match, sir; I will not fail you, God
+willing, to be at Amwell Hill to-morrow before sun-rising.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Master and Pupil</i></h4>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Sir, I am right glad to meet you. Come,
+honest Venator, let us be gone; I long to be doing.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Well, let's to your sport of angling.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> With all my heart. But we are not yet
+come to a likely place. Let us walk on. But let us first
+to an honest alehouse, where my hostess can give us a
+cup of her best drink.</p>
+
+<p>Seneca says that the ancients were so curious in the
+newness of their fish, that they usually did keep them
+living in glass-bottles in their dining-rooms, and did
+glory much in the entertaining of their friends, to have
+the fish taken from under their tables alive that was
+instantly to be fed upon. Our hostess shall dress us a
+trout, that we shall presently catch, and we, with brother
+Peter and Goridon, will sup on him here this same
+evening.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> And now to our sport.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> This is not a likely place for a trout; the
+sun is too high. But there lie upon the top of the water
+twenty Chub. Sir, here is a trial of my skill! I'll catch
+only one, and he shall be the big one, that has some
+bruise upon his tail.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span>
+<i>Venator.</i> I'll sit down and hope well; because you
+seem so confident.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Look you, sir! The very one! Oh, 'tis a
+great logger-headed Chub! I'll warrant he will make a
+good dish of meat.</p>
+
+<p>Under that broad beech tree yonder, I sat down when
+I was last a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove
+seemed to have a friendly contention with the echo that
+lives in a hollow near the brow of that primrose-hill.
+There I sat viewing the silver stream slide away, and
+the lambs sporting harmlessly. And as I sat, these sights
+so possessed my soul, that I thought as the poet hath it:</p>
+
+<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="iq">"I was for that time lifted above earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And possess'd joys not promised at my birth."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>But, let us further on; and we will try for a Trout.
+'Tis now past five of the clock.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> I have a bite! Oh me! He has broke all;
+and a good hook lost! But I have no fortune! Sure
+yours is a better rod and tackling.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Nay, then, take mine, and I will fish with
+yours. Look you, scholar, I have another. I pray, put
+that net under him, but touch not my line. Well done,
+scholar, I thank you.</p>
+
+<p>And now, having three brace of Trouts, I will tell
+you a tale as we walk back to our hostess.</p>
+
+<p>A preacher that was to procure the approbation of a
+parish got from a fellow preacher the copy of a sermon
+that was preached with great commendation by him that
+composed it; and though the borrower preached it, word
+for word, yet it was utterly disliked; and on complaining
+to the lender of it, was thus answered: "I lent you indeed
+my fiddle, but not my fiddlestick; for you are to
+know, everyone cannot make music with my words,
+which are fitted for my own mouth." And though I lend
+you my very rod and tacklings, yet you have not my
+fiddlestick, that is, the skill wherewith I guide it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span>
+<i>Venator.</i> Master, you spoke very true. Yonder
+comes mine hostess to call us to supper; and when we
+have supped we will sing songs which shall give some
+addition of mirth to the company.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> And so say I; for to-morrow we meet
+again up the water towards Waltham.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Fish of English Streams</i></h4>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of
+angling, as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless
+God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God
+never did"; and so, God never did make a more calm,
+quiet, innocent recreation than angling.</p>
+
+<p>And when I see how pleasantly that meadow looks;
+and the earth smells so sweetly too; I think of them
+as Charles the Emperor did of the City of Florence;
+"that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but on
+holidays."</p>
+
+<p>To speak of fishes; the Salmon is accounted the king
+of fresh-water fish. He breeds in the rivers in the month
+of August, and then hastes to the sea before winter;
+where he recovers his strength and comes the next summer
+to the same river; for like persons of riches, he has
+his summer and winter house, to spend his life in, which
+is, as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed, not above ten
+years.</p>
+
+<p>The Pike, the tyrant of the fresh-waters, is said to be
+the longest-lived of any fresh-water fish, but not usually
+above forty years. Gesner relates of a man watering
+his mule in a pond, where the Pike had devoured all the
+fish, had the Pike bite his mule's lips; to which he hung
+so fast, the mule did draw him out of the water. And
+this same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland washing
+clothes in a pond, had a Pike bite her by the foot.
+I have told you who relate these things; and shall conclude
+by telling you, what a wise-man hath observed:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span>
+"It is a hard thing to persuade the belly, because it has
+no ears."</p>
+
+<p>Besides being an eater of great voracity, the Pike is
+observed to be a solitary, melancholy and a bold fish.
+When he is dressed with a goodly, rich sauce, and oysters,
+this dish of meat is too good for any man, but an
+angler, or a very honest man.</p>
+
+<p>The Carp, that hath only lately been naturalised in
+England, is said to be the queen of rivers, and will grow
+to a very great bigness; I have heard, much above a
+yard long.</p>
+
+<p>The stately Bream, and the Tench, that physician of
+fishes, love best to live in ponds. In every Tench's head
+are two little stones which physicians make great use of.
+Rondeletius says, at his being in Rome, he saw a great
+cure done by applying a Tench to the feet of a sick man.</p>
+
+<p>But I will not meddle more with that; there are too
+many meddlers in physic and divinity that think fit to
+meddle with hidden secrets and so bring destruction to
+their followers.</p>
+
+<p>The Perch is a bold, biting fish, and carries his teeth
+in his mouth; and to affright the Pike and save himself
+he will set up his fins, like as a turkey-cock will set up
+his tail. If there be twenty or forty in a hole, they
+may be catched one after the other, at one standing; they
+being, like the wicked of this world, not afraid, though
+their fellows and companions perish in their sight.</p>
+
+<p>And now I think best to rest myself, for I have almost
+spent my spirits with talking.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Nay, good master, one fish more! For it
+rains yet; you know our angles are like money put to
+usury; they may thrive, though we sit still. Come, the
+other fish, good master!</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> But shall I nothing from you, that seem to
+have both a good memory and a cheerful spirit?</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Yes, master; I will speak you a copy of
+verses that allude to rivers and fishing:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come, live with me, and be my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we will some new pleasures prove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With silken lines, and silver hooks.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When thou wilt swim in that live bath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each fish, which every channel hath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most amorously to thee will swim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let others freeze with angling reeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cut their legs with shells and weeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or treacherously poor fish beget<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With trangling snare or windowy net;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou, thyself, art thine own bait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fish, that is not catched thereby<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is wiser far, alas, than I!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> I thank you for these choice verses. And I
+will now tell you of the Eel, which is a most dainty fish.
+The Romans have esteemed her the Helena of their
+feasts. Sir Francis Bacon will allow the Eel to live
+but ten years; but he mentions a Lamprey, belonging to
+the Roman Emperor, that was made tame and kept for
+three-score years; so that when she died, Crassus, the
+orator, lamented her death.</p>
+
+<p>I will tell you next how to make the Eel a most excellent
+dish of meat.</p>
+
+<p>First, wash him in water and salt, then pull off his
+skin and clean him; then give him three or four scotches
+with a knife; and then put into him sweet herbs, an
+anchovy and a little nutmeg. Then pull his skin over
+him, and tie him with pack-thread; and baste him with
+butter, and what he drips, be his sauce. And when I
+dress an Eel thus, I wish he were a yard and three-quarters
+long. But they are not so proper to be talked
+of by me because they make us anglers no sport.</p>
+
+<p>The Barbel, so called by reason of his barb or wattles,
+and the Gudgeon, are both fine fish of excellent
+shape.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span>
+My further purpose was to give you directions concerning
+Roach and Dace, but I will forbear. I see yonder,
+brother Peter. But I promise you, to-morrow as
+we walk towards London, if I have forgotten anything
+now I will not then keep it from you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Come, we will all join together and drink a
+cup to our jovial host, and so to bed. I say good-night
+to everybody.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> And so say I.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Walking Homewards</i></h4>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> I will tell you, my honest scholar, I once
+heard one say, "I envy not him that eats better meat,
+or wears better clothes than I do; I envy him only that
+catches more fish than I do."</p>
+
+<p>And there be other little fish that I had almost forgot,
+such as the Minnow or Penk; the dainty Loach; the
+Miller's-Thumb, of no pleasing shape; the Stickle-bag,
+good only to make sport for boys and women anglers.</p>
+
+<p>Well, scholar, I could tell you many things of the rivers
+of this nation, the chief of which is the Thamisis;
+of fish-ponds, and how to breed fish within them, and
+how to order your lines and baits for the several fishes;
+but, I will tell you some of the thoughts that have possessed
+my soul since we met together. And you shall
+join with me in thankfulness to the Giver of every good
+and perfect gift for our happiness; which may appear
+the greater when we consider how many, even at this
+very time, lie under the torment, and the stone, the gout,
+and tooth-ache; and all these we are free from.</p>
+
+<p>Since we met, others have met disasters, some have
+been blasted, and we have been free from these. What
+is a far greater mercy, we are free from the insupportable
+burden of an accusing conscience.</p>
+
+<p>Let me tell you, there be many that have forty times
+our estates, that would give the greatest part of it to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span>
+healthful and cheerful like us; who have eat, and drank,
+and laughed, and angled, and sung, and slept; and rose
+next day, and cast away care, and sung, and laughed, and
+angled again.</p>
+
+<p>I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy that
+he has no leisure to laugh. He says that Solomon says,
+"The diligent man makest rich"; but, he considers not
+what was wisely said by a man of great observation,
+"That there be as many miseries beyond riches, as on
+this side them."</p>
+
+<p>Let me tell you, scholar, Diogenes walked one day
+through a country fair, where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses,
+and nut-crackers, and fiddles, and many other
+gimcracks; and said to his friend, "Lord, how many
+things are there in this world Diogenes hath no need!"</p>
+
+<p>All this is told you to incline you to thankfulness:
+though the prophet David was guilty of murder and
+many other of the most deadly sins, yet he was said to be
+a man after God's own heart, because he abounded with
+thankfulness.</p>
+
+<p>Well, scholar, I have almost tired myself, and I fear,
+more than tired you.</p>
+
+<p>But, I now see Tottenham High Cross, which puts a
+period to our too long discourse, in which my meaning
+was to plant that in your mind with which I labour to
+possess my own soul&mdash;that is, a meek and thankful heart.
+And, to that end, I have showed you that riches without
+them do not make a man happy. But riches with them
+remove many fears and cares. Therefore, my advice is,
+that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or contentedly
+poor; but be sure your riches be justly got; for it is well
+said by Caussin, "He that loses his conscience, has
+nothing left that is worth the keeping." So look to that.
+And in the next place, look to your health, for health is
+a blessing that money cannot buy. As for money, neglect
+it not, and, if you have a competence, enjoy it with a
+cheerful, thankful heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span>
+<i>Venator.</i> Well, master, I thank you for all your good
+directions, and especially for this last, of thankfulness.
+And now being at Tottenham High Cross, I will requite
+a part of your courtesies with a drink composed of sack,
+milk, oranges, and sugar, which, all put together, make a
+drink like nectar indeed; and too good for anybody, but
+us anglers. So, here is a full glass to you.</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> And I to you, sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Venator.</i> Sir, your company and discourse have been
+so pleasant that I truly say, that I have only lived since
+I enjoyed it an turned angler, and not before.</p>
+
+<p>I will not forget the doctrines Socrates taught his
+scholars, that they should not think to be honoured for
+being philosophers, so much as to honour philosophy by
+the virtue of their lives. You advised me to the like
+concerning angling, and to live like those same worthy
+men. And this is my firm resolution.</p>
+
+<p>And when I would beget content, I will walk the meadows,
+by some gliding stream, and there contemplate the
+lilies that take no care. That is my purpose; and so,
+"let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be with mine."</p>
+
+<p><i>Piscator.</i> And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and
+be quiet, and go a-angling.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="p4 index">
+<h2><a name="Index" id="Index"><i>Index</i></a></h2>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p class="center">In the following Index the Roman Numerals refer to the <i>Volumes</i>, and the Arabic
+Numerals to <i>Pages</i>. The numerals in heavy, or <b>black-faced</b> type,
+indicate the place where the <i>biographical</i> notice will be found.</p></blockquote>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Abbé Constantine, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 38<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Abélard and Héloïse</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">About, Edmond</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Adam Bede &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 33<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Addison, Joseph</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 1; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /></li>
+<li>Advancement of Learning, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 321<br /></li>
+<li>Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 41<br /></li>
+<li>Advice to Young Men &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Æschylus</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 16 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Æsop</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /></li>
+<li>Africa: see Vol. &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a><br /></li>
+<li>Agamemnon, The&nbsp; XVI 16<br /></li>
+<li>Age of Reason, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 196<br /></li>
+<li>Aids to Reflection &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 84<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ainsworth, Harrison</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 17<br /></li>
+<li>Albert N'Yanza, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Alcestis&nbsp; XVI 336<br /></li>
+<li>Alice's Adventures in Wonderland &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 176<br /></li>
+<li>All for Love&nbsp; XVI 322<br /></li>
+<li>Alton Locke &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 236<br /></li>
+<li>Ambrosio, or the Monk &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 51<br /></li>
+<li>Amelia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 122<br /></li>
+<li id="america">America, History of:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>Mexico &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 19;</li>
+  <li>Peru &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 30;</li>
+  <li>United States &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 1;</li>
+  <li>see also <span class="smcap"><a href="#wash">Washington</a>, <a href="#frank">Franklin</a></span>, etc.</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Democracy in &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Wanderings in South &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 313<br /></li>
+<li>Anabasis, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 110<br /></li>
+<li>Anatomy of Melancholy, The &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Vertebrates &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 280<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Andersen, Hans Christian</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 30<br /></li>
+<li>Angler, The Complete &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /></li>
+<li>Animal Chemistry &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 203<br /></li>
+<li>Anna Karenina &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 205<br /></li>
+<li>Annals of the Parish &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 204<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Tacitus &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 156<br /></li>
+<li>Antigone&nbsp; XVIII 237<br /></li>
+<li>Antiquary, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Antiquities of the Jews &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 43<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Apocrypha, The</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Apologia Pro Vita Sua &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 185<br /></li>
+<li>Apology, or Defence of Socrates &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 75<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Apuleius</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 45<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Arabian Nights</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 61<br /></li>
+<li>Arcadia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 54<br /></li>
+<li>Areopagitica &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ariosto, Ludovico</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 51<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Aristophanes</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 64 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Aristotle</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 291<br /></li>
+<li>Arne &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 274<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Arnold, Matthew</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /></li>
+<li id="arnold">Arnold, Life of Thomas &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 260<br /></li>
+<li>Astronomy, Outlines of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 146<br /></li>
+<li>Atala &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 224<br /></li>
+<li>Atta Troll &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 50<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Aucassin and Nicolette</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 79<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Auerbach, Berthold</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 93<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Augustine, Saint</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 24; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 29<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Aurelius (Marcus Aurelius Antoninus)</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 307<br /></li>
+<li>Aurora Leigh&nbsp; XVI 144<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Austen, Jane</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 109 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Authority of Scripture, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 129<br /></li>
+<li>Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 91<br /></li>
+<li>Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 120<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Benjamin Franklin &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 247<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Flavius Josephus &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 61<br /></li>
+<li>Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Bacon, Francis</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 321<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bagehot, Walter</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 88<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bailey, Philip James</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 86<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Baker, Sir Samuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Balzac, Honoré de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 188 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Barber of Seville, The&nbsp; XVI 101<br /></li>
+<li>Barchester Towers &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 233<br /></li>
+<li>Barnaby Rudge &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 53<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Baxter, Richard</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 37<br /></li>
+<li>Beaconsfield, Earl of: see <a href="#disraeli"><span class="smcap">Disraeli, Benjamin</span></a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Beaumarchais, P.A. Caron de</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 101 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li id="beaumont"><span class="smcap">Beaumont and Fletcher</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 133<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Beckford, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 244<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Behn, Aphra</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 255<br /></li>
+<li>Belinda &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bellamy, Edward</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 173<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bentham, Jeremy</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 186<br /></li>
+<li>Bérénice&nbsp; XVIII 106<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bergerac, Cyrano de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 265<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Berkeley, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 329<br /></li>
+<li>Bernard, Life of Saint &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 135<br /></li>
+<li>Betrothed, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 169<br /></li>
+<li>Beyle, Henri: see <a href="#stendhal"><span class="smcap">Stendhal</span></a><br /></li>
+<li>Bible in Spain, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 22<br /></li>
+<li>Biographia Literaria &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 166<br /></li>
+<li>Biology, Principles of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 133<br /></li>
+<li>Birds, The&nbsp; XVI 64<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Björnson, Björnstjerne</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 274 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Black, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 300<br /></li>
+<li>Black Prophet, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 164<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Tulip, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 281<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Blackmore, R. D.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 313<br /></li>
+<li>Bleak House &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 66<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bloch, Jean</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 199<br /></li>
+<li>Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A&nbsp; XVI 154<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Boccaccio, Giovanni</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 327<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Book of the Dead</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 47<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Borrow, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 1 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 13 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Boswell, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 37; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 37<br /></li>
+<li>Bothwell &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 301<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Braddon</span>, M. E. &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 27<br /></li>
+<li id="bradley"><span class="smcap">Bradley, Edward</span> ("Cuthbert Bede") &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 41<br /></li>
+<li id="brahman"><span class="smcap">Brahmanism, Books of</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 59<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bramwell, John Milne</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Brandes, George</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Brewster, Sir Davis</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 66<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Brontë, Charlotte</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 54 <i>seq.</i>;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>"Life of" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 259</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Brontë, Emily</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 97<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Browne, Sir Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 66<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Browning, Elizabeth Barrett</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 144<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Browning, Robert</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 154 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bruce, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 47<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Buchanan, Robert</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 111<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Buckle, Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 76<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Buffon, Comte de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 12<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Bunyan, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 124 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 79<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Burckhardt, John Lewis</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 57<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Burke, Edmund</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 212<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Burney, Fanny</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 150<br /></li>
+<li>Burns, Life of Robert &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 86<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Burton, Robert</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Burton, Sir Richard</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 67<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Butler, Samuel</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 177<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Butler, Sir William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a>79 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Byron, Lord</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 188 <i>seq.</i>;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>"Life of" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 122</li>
+  </ul></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Cæsar, Julius</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 144<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Calderon de la Barca</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 206<br /></li>
+<li>Caleb Williams &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Caliph Vathek, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 244<br /></li>
+<li>Called Back &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 274<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Calvin, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 75<br /></li>
+<li>Canterbury Tales, The&nbsp; XVI 226<br /></li>
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span>Capital: A Critical Analysis &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 282<br /></li>
+<li>Captain's Daughter, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 42<br /></li>
+<li>Captain Singleton &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 41<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Carleton, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 164<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Carlyle, Alexander</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 91<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Carlyle, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 99; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 147; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 188; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_50">50</a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Carmen &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 239<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Carroll, Lewis</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 176<br /></li>
+<li>Castle of Otranto &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 303<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Rackrent &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 21<br /></li>
+<li>Catiline, Conspiracy of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 168<br /></li>
+<li>Cato: A Tragedy&nbsp; XVI 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Catullus, Gaius Valerius</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 219<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cellini, Benvenuto</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 120<br /></li>
+<li>Cellular Pathology &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 292<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cervantes, Miguel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 198<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Chambers, Robert</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 22<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Chamisso, Adalbert Von</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 212<br /></li>
+<li>Characters &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /></li>
+<li>Charles XII, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 280<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; O'Malley &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 26<br /></li>
+<li>Chartreuse of Parma, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 103<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Chateaubriand, François René Vicomte de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 224; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 124<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Chaucer, Geoffrey</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 226<br /></li>
+<li>Chemical History of a Candle, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 85<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Philosophy, Elements of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 64<br /></li>
+<li>Chemistry, Animal &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 203<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cherbuliez, Charles Victor</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 235<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Chesterfield, Earl of</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 144<br /></li>
+<li>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage&nbsp; XVI 188<br /></li>
+<li>Childhood, Boyhood, Youth &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 291<br /></li>
+<li>China's Four Books: see <a href="#conf"><span class="smcap">Confucianism</span></a><br /></li>
+<li>Christ, Imitation of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 160<br /></li>
+<li>Christian Religion, Institution of the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 75<br /></li>
+<li>Christianity, History of Latin: see <a href="#papacy">Papacy</a><br /></li>
+<li>Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 286<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cicero, Marcus Tullius</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 155; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /></li>
+<li>Cid, The&nbsp; XVI 267<br /></li>
+<li>Citizen of the World, The &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /></li>
+<li>City of Dreadful Night, The&nbsp; XVIII 293<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of God, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 29<br /></li>
+<li>Civilisation in Europe, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Clarendon, Earl of: see <a href="#hyde"><span class="smcap">Hyde, Edward</span></a><br /></li>
+<li>Clarissa Harlowe &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 118<br /></li>
+<li>Cloister and the Hearth, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 92<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cobbett, William</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /></li>
+<li>Cobden, Life of Richard &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 144<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Coleridge, Samuel Taylor</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 166; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 84<br /></li>
+<li>Collegians, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Collins, Wilkie</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 249 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Columbus, Life of Christopher &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 41<br /></li>
+<li>Commentaries on the Gallic War &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 144<br /></li>
+<li>Complete Angler, The &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Comte, Auguste</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 244<br /></li>
+<li>Concerning Friendship &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the Human Understanding &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 56<br /></li>
+<li>Confessions, My (Count Tolstoy) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 301<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Augustine &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 24<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of an English Opium Eater &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 189<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Jean Jacques Rousseau &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 190<br /></li>
+<li id="conf"><span class="smcap">Confucianism</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 93<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Congreve, William</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 246 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Coningsby &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 227<br /></li>
+<li>Conspiracy of Catiline, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 168<br /></li>
+<li>Consuelo &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 205<br /></li>
+<li>Conversations with Eckerman &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 303<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Imaginary &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Conway, Hugh</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 274<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cook, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 100<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cooper, Fenimore</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 285 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span>Corinne &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 89<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Corneille, Pierre</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 267 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Corsican Brothers, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 292<br /></li>
+<li>Cosmos, A Sketch of the Universe &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 158<br /></li>
+<li>Count of Monte Cristo, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 304<br /></li>
+<li>Courtships of (Queen) Elizabeth, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cowper, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 177;&nbsp; XVI 290<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Craik, Mrs.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 312<br /></li>
+<li>Cranford &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 215<br /></li>
+<li>Creation, Vestiges of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 22<br /></li>
+<li>Crescent and the Cross, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 299<br /></li>
+<li>Critique of Practical Reason &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 34<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Pure Reason &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 24<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Croly, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 324<br /></li>
+<li>Cromwell, Letters and Speeches of Oliver &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 99<br /></li>
+<li>Cuthbert Bede: see <a href="#bradley"><span class="smcap">Bradley, Edward</span></a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Cuvier, Georges</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 33<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Dampier, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 112<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Dana, Richard Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 335<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Dante Alighieri</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 300 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Darwin, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 43; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 124<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Daudet, Alphonse</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Daughter of Heth, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 300<br /></li>
+<li>David Copperfield &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 79<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Da Vinci, Leonardo</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Davy, Sir Humphry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 64<br /></li>
+<li>Dawn of Civilisation, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Day, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 14<br /></li>
+<li>Dead Man's Diary, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 224<br /></li>
+<li>Death of the Gods, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 227<br /></li>
+<li>Decameron, The, or Ten Days' Entertainment &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 327<br /></li>
+<li>Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 174 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 229<br /></li>
+<li>Deeds and Words &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Defoe, Daniel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 26 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /></li>
+<li>Democracy in America &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Demosthenes</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">De Quincey, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 189<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Descartes, René</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 337<br /></li>
+<li>Desert, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 201<br /></li>
+<li>Dialogues on the System of the World &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 105<br /></li>
+<li>Diary of John Evelyn &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 213<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Samuel Pepys &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 154<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Dickens, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 53 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Discourse on Method &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 337<br /></li>
+<li>Discourses and Encheiridion (Epictetus) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 358<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; with Himself (M. Aurelius) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 307<br /></li>
+<li>Discovery of the Source of the Nile &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 251<br /></li>
+<li id="disraeli"><span class="smcap">Disraeli, Benjamin</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 227 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Divine Comedy, The&nbsp; XVI 300 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Doctor in Spite of Himself, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 362<br /></li>
+<li>Dombey and Son &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 94<br /></li>
+<li>Don Juan&nbsp; XVI 197<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Quixote, Life and Adventures of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 198<br /></li>
+<li>Drink &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 318<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Dryden, John</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 322<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Dubois, Félix</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 136<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Dumas, Alexandre</span> (<i>père</i>) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 269 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 201 (Memoirs)<br /></li>
+<li id="dutch">Dutch Republic, Rise of the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 220<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Earth, Theory of the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 170<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ebers, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Eckerman, Goethe's Conversations with &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 303<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Edgeworth, Maria</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 13 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Education &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 120<br /></li>
+<li>Egypt:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>Ancient History &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 1 <i>seq.</i>;</li>
+  <li>Mediæval History &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 272;</li>
+  <li>Religion &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 47</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>Egyptian Princess, An &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Electricity, Experimental Researches in &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 75<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; and Magnetism, Treatise on &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 227<br /></li>
+<li>Elements of Chemical Philosophy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 64<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Eliot, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 33 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Eliot, Samuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Elizabeth, Queen:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>Courtships &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 13;</li>
+  <li>"Life" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 270<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">353</a></span></li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Elphinstone, Mountstuart</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 246<br /></li>
+<li>Elsie Venner &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 87<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Emerson, Ralph Waldo</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 349; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_109">109</a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Emma &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 162<br /></li>
+<li>England, History of:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>Buckle &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 76;</li>
+  <li>Freeman &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 298;</li>
+  <li>Froude &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 315;</li>
+  <li>Holinshed &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 286;</li>
+  <li>Macaulay &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 55;</li>
+  <li>Rebellion (1642) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 41</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>English Constitution, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 88<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Letters on the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 275<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Literature, History of &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Poets, Lectures on the &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Traits &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /></li>
+<li>Eothen &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 159<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Epictetus</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 358<br /></li>
+<li>Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems of Martial &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 295<br /></li>
+<li id="eras"><span class="smcap">Erasmus, Desiderius</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_126">126</a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Erckmann-Chatrian</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 97<br /></li>
+<li>Essay on Liberty &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; on Man&nbsp; XVIII 94<br /></li>
+<li>Essays in Criticism &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; in Eugenics &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 111<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Montaigne &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 64<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Moral and Political &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li>Ethics of Aristotle &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 291<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Spinoza &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 160<br /></li>
+<li>Eugene Aram &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 87<br /></li>
+<li>Eugénie Grandet &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 188<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Euripides</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 336<br /></li>
+<li>Europe:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>History of Civilisation in &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 241;</li>
+  <li>in Middle Ages &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 255;</li>
+  <li>Literature of &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Evelina &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 150<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Evelyn, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 213<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Everyman</span>&nbsp; <b>XVI</b> 348<br /></li>
+<li>Every Man in His Humour &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 195<br /></li>
+<li>Evolution of Man, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 123<br /></li>
+<li>Existence of God, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 117<br /></li>
+<li>Experimental Researches in Electricity &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 75<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Fables of Æsop &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /></li>
+<li>Familiar Colloquies &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Faraday, Michael</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 75 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Fathers and Sons &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 245<br /></li>
+<li>Faust&nbsp; XVI 362<br /></li>
+<li>Faustus, Tragical History of Dr. &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 282<br /></li>
+<li>Felix Holt, The Radical &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 45<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Fénelon, de la Mothe</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 117<br /></li>
+<li>Ferdinand and Isabella, Reign of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 271<br /></li>
+<li>Festus: A Poem&nbsp; XVI 86<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Feuillet, Octave</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 100<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Fielding, Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 122 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Figaro, The Marriage of XVI<br /></li>
+<li>File No. 113 &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 192<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Finlay, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 206<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Flammarion, Camille</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 168<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Fletcher</span>; See <a href="#beaumont"><span class="smcap">Beaumont and Fletcher</span></a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Forel, Auguste</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 95<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Forster, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 225<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Fouqué, de la Motte</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 180<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Fox, George</span>, &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>Fragments of an Intimate Diary &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li>France, History of:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>Girondists &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 165;</li>
+  <li>Louis XIV, &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 101;</li>
+  <li>Modern Régime &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 177;</li>
+  <li>Old Régime &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 117;</li>
+  <li>Revolution (Burke) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 212, (Carlyle) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 147, (Mignet) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 129;</li>
+  <li>see also (Memoirs, etc.) <a href="#roch">La Rochefoucauld</a>, <a href="#mir">Mirabeau</a>, <a href="#staal">de Staal</a>, <a href="#sev">de Sévigné</a>, etc.</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Travels in &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 327<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; and Italy, Sentimental Journey Through &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 263<br /></li>
+<li>Frankenstein &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 41<br /></li>
+<li id="frank"><span class="smcap">Franklin, Benjamin</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 247<br /></li>
+<li>Frederick the Great &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 188<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Freeman, Edward A.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 298<br /></li>
+<li>Friendship, Concerning &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /></li>
+<li>Frogs, The&nbsp; XVI 72<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Froude, James Anthony</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 315<br /></li>
+<li>Future of War, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 199<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Gaboriau, Émile</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 192<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">354</a></span><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Galileo Galilei</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 129; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 105<br /></li>
+<li>Gallic War, Cæsar's Commentaries on the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 144<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Galt, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 204<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Galton, Sir Francis</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 111<br /></li>
+<li>Garden of Allah, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 73<br /></li>
+<li>Gargantua and Pantagruel &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 54<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Gaskell, Mrs.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 215 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 259<br /></li>
+<li>Geoffry Hamlyn &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 306<br /></li>
+<li>Geology, Principles of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">George, Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>Germania &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_286">286</a><br /></li>
+<li>Germany, On &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Gibbon, Edward</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 272 (Memoirs); &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 174 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 229<br /></li>
+<li>Gil Blas &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 14<br /></li>
+<li>Girondists, History of the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 165<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Godwin, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 241<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Goethe, Johann Wolfgang Von</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 253 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 283 <i>seq.</i>;&nbsp; XVI 362; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 1 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Goetz von Berlichingen &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Gogol, Nicolai</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 30<br /></li>
+<li>Golden Ass, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 45<br /></li>
+<li id="gold"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith, Oliver</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 275 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 39; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Goncourt, Edmond</span> and <span class="smcap">Jules de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 289<br /></li>
+<li>Götterdämmerung&nbsp; XVIII 336<br /></li>
+<li>Grace Abounding &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 79<br /></li>
+<li>Grammont, Memoirs of the Count de &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 324<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Grant, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 301<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Gray, Maxwell</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Gray, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 315<br /></li>
+<li>Great Expectations &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 106<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Lone Land, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 79<br /></li>
+<li>Greece, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 81 <i>seq.</i>;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>(modern) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 206</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Griffin, Gerald</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 13<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Grote, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 122<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Guizot, François Pierre Guillame</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Gulliver's Travels &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 157<br /></li>
+<li>Guy Mannering &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 255<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Habberton, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 26<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Haeckel, Ernst</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 123<br /></li>
+<li>Hajji Baba of Ispahan, The Adventures of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 276<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hakluyt, Richard</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 148<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Halevy, Ludovic</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 38<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hallam, Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 255; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hamilton, Anthony</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 324<br /></li>
+<li>Hamlet&nbsp; XVIII 170<br /></li>
+<li>Handy Andy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 75<br /></li>
+<li>Hard Cash &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 68<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Times &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 118<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Harvey, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 136<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hawthorne, Nathaniel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 50 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 336<br /></li>
+<li id="hazlitt"><span class="smcap">Hazlitt, William</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li>
+<li>Headlong Hall &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Heart of Midlothian, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 267<br /></li>
+<li>Heaven and Hell &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 249<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 138; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Heine, Heinrich</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 50<br /></li>
+<li>Helen's Babies &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 26<br /></li>
+<li>Henry Masterton &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 187<br /></li>
+<li>Hereward the Wake &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 248<br /></li>
+<li>Hernani &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 110<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Herodotus</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 81<br /></li>
+<li>Heroes and Hero Worship, On &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Herschel, Sir John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 146<br /></li>
+<li>Hesperus &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 143<br /></li>
+<li>Hiawatha, The Song of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 250<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hichens, Robert</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 73<br /></li>
+<li id="hindu"><span class="smcap">Hinduism, Books of</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 150<br /></li>
+<li>History, Philosophy of, &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Philosophy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 45<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Caliph Vathek &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 244<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hobbes, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 249<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Holinshed, Raphael</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 286<br /></li>
+<li>Holland: See <a href="#dutch">Dutch Republic and United Netherlands</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Holmes, Oliver Wendell</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 87; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /></li>
+<li id="holy">Holy Roman Empire, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 229;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>see also <a href="#papacy">Papacy</a></li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; War, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 124<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Homer</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 66 <i>seq.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">355</a></span><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Horace</span> (<span class="smcap">Q. Horatius Flaccus</span>) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 91<br /></li>
+<li>House of the Seven Gables, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 60<br /></li>
+<li>Household of Sir Thomas More, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 155<br /></li>
+<li>Hudibras&nbsp; XVI 177<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hughes, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 99 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Hugo, Victor &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 122 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 1; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 110 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Humboldt, Alexander Von</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 158<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hume, David</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 13<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hume, Martin</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 13<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Hutton, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 170<br /></li>
+<li id="hyde"><span class="smcap">Hyde, Edward</span> (Earl of Clarendon) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 41<br /></li>
+<li>Hypatia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 260<br /></li>
+<li>Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 1<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Ibsen, Henrik</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 171 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Idylls of the King&nbsp; XVIII 261<br /></li>
+<li>Iliad, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 66<br /></li>
+<li>Imaginary Conversations &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /></li>
+<li>Imitation of Christ, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 160<br /></li>
+<li>Improvisatore, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 30<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Inchbald, Mrs.</span> (<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 174<br /></li>
+<li>India, History of: &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 246;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>Religion: see <a href="#brahman"><span class="smcap">Brahmanism</span></a>, <a href="#hindu"><span class="smcap">Hinduism</span></a></li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>In God's Way &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 287<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Memoriam&nbsp; XVIII 277<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Praise of Folly &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /></li>
+<li>Insects, Senses of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 95<br /></li>
+<li>Inspector General, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 30<br /></li>
+<li>Institution of the Christian Religion &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 75<br /></li>
+<li>Introduction to the Literature of Europe &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /></li>
+<li>Iphigenia in Tauris &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 18<br /></li>
+<li>Ironmaster, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 314<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Irving, Washington</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 41<br /></li>
+<li>It Is Never Too Late To Mend &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 79<br /></li>
+<li>Ivanhoe &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 280<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">James, G. P. R.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 187<br /></li>
+<li>Jane Eyre &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 54<br /></li>
+<li>Jerusalem Delivered&nbsp; XVIII 250<br /></li>
+<li>Jesus, Life of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 231<br /></li>
+<li>Jews:<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>History and Antiquities of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 43 <i>seq.</i>;</li>
+  <li>Religion (<span class="smcap">Talmud</span>) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 259</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>John Halifax, Gentleman &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 312<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Johnson, Samuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 199;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>"Life of" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 37</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Jokai, Maurice</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 212<br /></li>
+<li>Jonathan Wild &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 133<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Jonson, Ben</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 195<br /></li>
+<li>Joseph Andrews &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 143<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Josephus, Flavius</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 61; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 43<br /></li>
+<li>Joshua Davidson &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 63<br /></li>
+<li>Journal of George Fox &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Plague Year, A &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; to Stella &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 282<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of a Tour to the Hebrides &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 37<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of John Wesley &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 327<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of John Woolman &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 341<br /></li>
+<li>Journey Round My Room, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 136<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Juvenal</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 207<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Kant, Immanuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 24 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Kempis, Thomas à</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 160<br /></li>
+<li>Kenilworth &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 293<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Kernahan, Coulson</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 224<br /></li>
+<li>King Amuses Himself, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 145<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Mountains, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Kinglake, A. W.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 159<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Kingsley, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 236 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Henry &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 306<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 217<br /></li>
+<li>Knights, The&nbsp; XVI 79<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Koran, The</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 169<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">La Bruyère</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /></li>
+<li>Lady Audley's Secret &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 27<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Lake, The&nbsp; XVIII 160<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lamarck, Jean Baptiste</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 179<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lamartine, A. M. L. de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 165<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">356</a></span><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lamb, Charles</span> and <span class="smcap">Mary</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 170<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Landor, Walter Savage</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lane-Poole, Stanley</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 272<br /></li>
+<li id="laoc">Laocoon &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br /></li>
+<li id="roch"><span class="smcap">La Rochefoucauld, François Duc de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 203 (Memoirs); &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /></li>
+<li>Last of the Barons, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 113<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Mohicans, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 285<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Days of Pompeii, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 99<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lavater, Johann</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 191<br /></li>
+<li>Lavengro &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Laws, The Spirit of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 306<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Layard, Austen Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 171<br /></li>
+<li>Lazarillo de Tormes &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 217<br /></li>
+<li>Lectures on the English Poets &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Le Fanu, Sheridan</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Legend of the Ages, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 159<br /></li>
+<li>Legislation, Principles of Morals and &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 186<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Leonardo da Vinci</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Le Sage, René</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 14<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 226; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br /></li>
+<li>Letters of Abélard and Héloïse &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Cicero &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 155<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; on the English &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 275<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Thomas Gray &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 315<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; to His Son, Lord Chesterfield's &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 144<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Pliny the Younger &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 166<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; to a Provincial &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 209<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Mme. de Sévigné &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 216<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Written in the Years 1782&ndash;86 &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 177<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; to Zelter &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 283<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Carlyle's &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 99<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lever, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 26 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Leviathan, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 249<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lewes, George Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 45<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lewes, M. G.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 51<br /></li>
+<li>Liar, The&nbsp; XVI 279<br /></li>
+<li>Liberty, Essay on &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Liebig, Justus Von</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 203<br /></li>
+<li>Life, Prolongation of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 246<br /></li>
+<li>Life of Thomas Arnold &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 260<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Saint Bernard &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 135<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Robert Burns &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 86<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Charlotte Brontë &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 259<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Lord Byron &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 122<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Cobden &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 144<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Christopher Columbus &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 41<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Queen Elizabeth &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 270<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Goldsmith &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 225<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Jesus &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 231<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Dr. Johnson &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 37<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Nelson &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 226<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Sir Isaac Newton &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 66<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Pitt &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 248<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Girolamo Savonarola &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 312<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Schiller &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 111<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Sir Walter Scott &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 70<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of George Washington &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 51<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Linnaeus, Carolus</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 181<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Linton, Mrs. Lynn</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 63<br /></li>
+<li id="lit">Literature, History of English &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Main Currents of 19th Century &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Europe, Introduction to the &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;: see also <a href="#arnold"><span class="smcap">M. Arnold</span></a>, <a href="#hazlitt"><span class="smcap">Hazlitt</span></a>, etc.<br /></li>
+<li>Little Dorrit &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 131<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Livingstone, David</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 191<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Locke, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 56<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lockhart, John Gibson</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 70<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 241 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Looking Backward &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 173<br /></li>
+<li>Lorna Doone &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 313<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lorris</span> and <span class="smcap">de Meun</span>, <span class="smcap">de</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 117<br /></li>
+<li>Lost Sir Massingberd &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 336<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Loti, Pierre</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 201<br /></li>
+<li>Louis XIV, The Age of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 101<br /></li>
+<li>Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 27<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">357</a></span><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Letters of Abélard and Héloïse &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lover, Samuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 75<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lucretius</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 261<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Luther, Martin</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 102<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lyell, Sir Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 215<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Lytton, Edward Bulwer</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 87 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Macaulay, Lord</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 55<br /></li>
+<li>Macbeth&nbsp; XVIII 180<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Machiavelli, Niccolo</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 261<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mackenzie, Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 124<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Macpherson, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 272<br /></li>
+<li>Magic Skin, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 213<br /></li>
+<li>Magnetism, Treatise on Electricity and &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 227<br /></li>
+<li>Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Maistre, Xavier De</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 136<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Malory, Sir Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 145<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Malthus, T. R.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 270<br /></li>
+<li>Man, Essay on&nbsp; XVIII 94<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Evolution of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 123<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, Nature of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, The Rights of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 324<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Feeling, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 124<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Who Laughs, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 162<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mandeville, Sir John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 210<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Manning, Anne</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 155<br /></li>
+<li>Mansfield Park &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 150<br /></li>
+<li>Mansie Wauch &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 262<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Manzoni, Alessandro</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 169<br /></li>
+<li>Marguerite de Valois &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 269<br /></li>
+<li>Marion de Lorme &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 123<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Marlowe, Christopher</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 282<br /></li>
+<li>Marmion&nbsp; XVIII 147<br /></li>
+<li>Marriage of Figaro, The&nbsp; XVI 116<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Marryat, Captain</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 181 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Martial</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 295<br /></li>
+<li>Martin Chuzzlewit &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 143<br /></li>
+<li>Mary Barton &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 228<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Queen of Scots, Love Affairs of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 27<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Marx, Karl</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 282<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Maspero, Gaston</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 1 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Massinger, Philip</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 305<br /></li>
+<li>Master Builder, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 171<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Maturin, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 205<br /></li>
+<li>Mauprat &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 217<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Maxwell, James Clerk</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 227<br /></li>
+<li>Mayor of Zalamea, The&nbsp; XVI 206<br /></li>
+<li>Melancholy, Anatomy of XX<br /></li>
+<li>Melmoth the Wanderer &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 205<br /></li>
+<li>Memoirs of Alexander Dumas &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 201<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; from Beyond the Grave &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 134<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Count de Grammont &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 324<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of the Duc De La Rochefoucauld &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 203<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Edward Gibbon &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 272<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Mirabeau &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 111<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Mme. de Staal &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>Men, Representative &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>see also <a href="#plutarch1"><span class="smcap">Plutarch</span></a>, etc.</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mendoza, Diego de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 217<br /></li>
+<li>Merchant of Venice&nbsp; XVIII 186<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Merejkowski, Dmitri</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 227<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mérimée, Prosper</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 239<br /></li>
+<li>Messiah, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 217<br /></li>
+<li>Metamorphoses&nbsp; XVIII 64<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Metchnikoff, Elie</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 238 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Mexico, History of the Conquest of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 19<br /></li>
+<li>Middle Ages: History, see Vol <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;, <span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span>: A Story-book of the &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /></li>
+<li>Midshipman Easy, Mr. &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 181<br /></li>
+<li>Midsummer Night's Dream, A&nbsp; XVIII 196<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mignet, François</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 129<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mill, John Stuart</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 294; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /></li>
+<li>Mill on the Floss, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 85<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Miller, Hugh</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 255<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Milman, Henry</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 68; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 289<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Milton, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 319; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /></li>
+<li id="mir"><span class="smcap">Mirabeau, Honoré Gabriel Comte de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 111<br /></li>
+<li>Misanthrope, The&nbsp; XVIII 1<br /></li>
+<li>Misérables, Les &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 122<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">358</a></span><br /></li>
+<li>Missionary Travels and Researches &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 191<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mitford, Mary Russell</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 251<br /></li>
+<li>Modern Régime &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 177<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Moir, David</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 262<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Molière</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 362;&nbsp; XVIII 1 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Mommsen, Theodor</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 215<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 64<br /></li>
+<li>Monte Cristo, The Count of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 304<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Montesquieu</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 306<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Moore, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 122<br /></li>
+<li>Moral Maxims, Reflections and &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /></li>
+<li>Morals and Legislation, Principles of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 186<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">More, Sir Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 315;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>"Household of" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 155</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Morier, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 276<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Morison, J. A. C.</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 135<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Morley, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 144<br /></li>
+<li>Morte D'Arthur &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 145<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Motley, John Lothrop</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 220 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Mourning Bride, The&nbsp; XVI 246<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Murray, David Christie</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 288<br /></li>
+<li>My Confession (Tolstoy) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 301<br /></li>
+<li>Mysteries of Paris, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 143<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Nathan the Wise &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 226<br /></li>
+<li>Natural History &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 12<br /></li>
+<li>Nature &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 349<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Man &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Things, On the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 261<br /></li>
+<li>Nelson, Life of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 226<br /></li>
+<li>Nest of Nobles, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 259<br /></li>
+<li>Never Too Late to Mend &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 79<br /></li>
+<li>New Héloïse, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 176<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Voyage Around the World, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 112<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Way to Pay Old Debts, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 305<br /></li>
+<li>Newcomes, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 169<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Newman, Cardinal</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 185<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Newton, Sir Isaac</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 267<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Nibelungenlied</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 38;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>see also <a href="#wagner"><span class="smcap">Wagner</span></a> (Nibelungen Ring)</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>Nicholas Nickleby &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 154<br /></li>
+<li>Nightmare Abbey &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 15<br /></li>
+<li>Nineveh and Its Remains &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 171<br /></li>
+<li>No Name &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 249<br /></li>
+<li>Norman Conquest of England. The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 298<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Norris, Frank</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 301<br /></li>
+<li>Northanger Abbey &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 138<br /></li>
+<li>Notre Dame de Paris &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 133<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Odes of Horace&nbsp; XVI 102<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Pindar&nbsp; XVIII 75<br /></li>
+<li>Odyssey, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 78<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ohnet, Georges</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 314<br /></li>
+<li>Old Curiosity Shop, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 179<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Goriot &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 200<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Mortality &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 306<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Red Sandstone, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 255<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Régime &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 117<br /></li>
+<li>Oliver Twist &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 166<br /></li>
+<li>On Benefits &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 109<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Germany &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Heroes and Hero Worship &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the Height 193<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the Motion of the Heart and Blood &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 136<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the Nature of Things &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 261<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; the Principle of Population &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 270<br /></li>
+<li>Origin of Species, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 43<br /></li>
+<li>Orlando Furioso&nbsp; XVI 51<br /></li>
+<li>Oroonoko: The Royal Slave &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 255<br /></li>
+<li>Ossian &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 272<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Otway, Thomas</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 48<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ouida</span> (<span class="smcap">Louise de la Ramée</span>) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 326<br /></li>
+<li>Our Mutual Friend &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 190<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Old Home &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 336<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Village &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 251<br /></li>
+<li>Outlines of Astronomy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 146<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ovid</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 64<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Owen, Sir Richard</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 280<br /></li>
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Paine, Thomas</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 196; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 324<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">359</a></span><br /></li>
+<li>Painting, Treatise on &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li>
+<li>Pamela &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 106<br /></li>
+<li id="papacy">Papacy, History of: &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 289 <i>seq.</i>;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>see also <a href="#holy">Holy Roman Empire</a></li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>Papers of the Forest School-Master &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 165<br /></li>
+<li>Paradise Lost &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 319<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Regained &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 342<br /></li>
+<li>Paradiso&nbsp; XVI 314<br /></li>
+<li>Parallel Lives &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_266">266</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Park, Mungo</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 219<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Pascal, Blaise</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 209<br /></li>
+<li>Passing of the Empire, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 30<br /></li>
+<li>Paul and Virginia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 192<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Payn, James</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 336<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Peacock, Thomas Love</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Peloponnesian War &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 95<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Penn, William</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 222<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Pepys, Samuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 154<br /></li>
+<li>Peregrine Pickle &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 76<br /></li>
+<li>Persians, The&nbsp; XVI 28<br /></li>
+<li>Persuasion &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 174<br /></li>
+<li>Peru, History of the Conquest of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 30<br /></li>
+<li>Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 212<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Simple &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 193<br /></li>
+<li>Peveril of the Peak &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 318<br /></li>
+<li>Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding&nbsp; XVI 133<br /></li>
+<li>Philippics, The &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /></li>
+<li>Philosophy, A History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 45<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of History, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Religion, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 138<br /></li>
+<li>Physiognomical Fragments &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 191<br /></li>
+<li>Pickwick Papers &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 201<br /></li>
+<li>Pilgrim's Progress, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 136<br /></li>
+<li>Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 67<br /></li>
+<li>Pillars of Society, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 186<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Pindar</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 75<br /></li>
+<li>Pit, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 301<br /></li>
+<li>Pitt, Life of William &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 248<br /></li>
+<li>Plague Year, Journal of the &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Plato</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 75 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Pliny, The Younger</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 166<br /></li>
+<li id="plutarch1"><span class="smcap">Plutarch</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_266">266</a><br /></li>
+<li>Poems of Catullus&nbsp; XVI 219<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Horace &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 91<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Martial &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 295<br /></li>
+<li>Poetry and Truth from my Own Life &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 291<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;: see also <a href="#laoc">Laocoon</a>, <a href="#lit">Literature</a>, etc.<br /></li>
+<li>Poets, Lectures on the English &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li>
+<li>Political Testament of Cardinal Richelieu &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 178<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Economy, Principles of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 294<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Polo, Marco</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 229<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Pope, Alexander</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 94<br /></li>
+<li>Popes, History of the: See <a href="#papacy">Papacy</a><br /></li>
+<li>Population, On the Principle of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 270<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Porter, Jane</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 28<br /></li>
+<li>Positive Philosophy, A Course of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 224<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Prescott, William Hickling</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 19 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 271<br /></li>
+<li>Pride and Prejudice &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 123<br /></li>
+<li>Prince, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 261<br /></li>
+<li>Principall Navigations, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 148<br /></li>
+<li>Principia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 267<br /></li>
+<li>Principles of Biology &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 133<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Geology, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 215<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Human Knowledge &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 329<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Morals and Legislation &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 186<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Political Economy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 294<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Sociology &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 145<br /></li>
+<li>Progress and Poverty &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 238<br /></li>
+<li>Prolongation of Life &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 246<br /></li>
+<li>Prometheus Bound&nbsp; XVI 38<br /></li>
+<li>Purgatorio&nbsp; XVI 307<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Pushkin, Alexander Sergeyvitch</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 42<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Quentin Durward &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">360</a></span>Quest of the Absolute, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 227<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Rabelais, François</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 54<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Racine, Jean</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 106<br /></li>
+<li id="ranke"><span class="smcap">Ranke, Leopold Von</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 301<br /></li>
+<li>Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 199<br /></li>
+<li>Ravenshoe &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 319<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Reade, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 68 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Reflections and Moral Maxims &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; on the Revolution in France &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 212<br /></li>
+<li>Religio Medici &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 66<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Renan, Ernest</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 231<br /></li>
+<li>Renée Mauperin &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 289<br /></li>
+<li>Representative Men &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_118">118</a><br /></li>
+<li>Republic, Plato's &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 84<br /></li>
+<li>Revolt of Islam, The&nbsp; XVIII 214<br /></li>
+<li>Rheingold&nbsp; XVIII 305<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Richardson, Samuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 106 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Richelieu, Cardinal</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 178<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Richter, Jean Paul Friedrich</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 143 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Rights of Man, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 324<br /></li>
+<li>Robinson Crusoe &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 26<br /></li>
+<li>Rob Roy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li>Rochefoucauld: See <a href="#roch"><span class="smcap">La Rochefoucauld</span></a><br /></li>
+<li>Roderick Random &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 64<br /></li>
+<li>Romance of a Poor Young Man &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 110<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Romance of the Rose</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 117<br /></li>
+<li>Romany Rye, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li>Rome, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 144 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Romeo and Juliet&nbsp; XVIII 203<br /></li>
+<li>Romola &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 58<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Rossegger, Peter</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 165<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Rousseau, Jean Jacques</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 176; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 190 (Confessions); &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 337<br /></li>
+<li>Russia Under Peter the Great &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 259<br /></li>
+<li>Ruy Blas &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 134<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Saint Pierre, Bernardin de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 192; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Saints' Everlasting Rest, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 37<br /></li>
+<li>Salathiel, or Tarry Thou Till I Come &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 324<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sallust, Caius Crispus</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 168<br /></li>
+<li>Samson Agonistes &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 349<br /></li>
+<li>Samuel Brohl and Company &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 235<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sand, George</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 205 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Sandford and Merton &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 14<br /></li>
+<li>Sartor Resartus &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_61">61</a><br /></li>
+<li>Satires of Juvenal &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 207<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Horace&nbsp; XVI 91<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash;: see also <a href="#eras"><span class="smcap">Erasmus</span></a>, <a href="#gold"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith</span></a>, etc.<br /></li>
+<li>Savonarola, Life of Girolamo &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 312<br /></li>
+<li>Scarlet Letter, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 50<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Schiller, Friedrich Von</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 129;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>"Life of" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 111</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Schliemann, Heinrich</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 132<br /></li>
+<li>School for Scandal, The&nbsp; XVIII 226<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; for Wives, The&nbsp; XVIII 14<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Schopenhauer, Arthur</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 99<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Scott, Michael</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 229<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Scott, Sir Walter</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 241 <i>seq.</i>; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 1 <i>seq.</i>;&nbsp; XVIII 147 <i>seq.</i>;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>"Life of" &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 70</li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>Scottish Chiefs, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 28<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Seneca, L. Annaeus</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 109<br /></li>
+<li>Sense and Sensibility &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 109<br /></li>
+<li>Senses of Insects, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 95<br /></li>
+<li>Sentimental Journey through France and Italy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 263<br /></li>
+<li id="sev"><span class="smcap">Sévigné</span>, Mme. <span class="smcap">de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 216<br /></li>
+<li>Shadow of the Sword, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 111<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Shakespeare, William</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 170 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 41<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Shelley, Percy Bysshe</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 214<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sheridan, Richard Brinsley</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 226<br /></li>
+<li>She Stoops to Conquer &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 39<br /></li>
+<li>Shirley &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 71<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sidney, Sir Philip</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 54<br /></li>
+<li>Siegfried&nbsp; XVIII 327<br /></li>
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">361</a></span>Silas Marner &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 73<br /></li>
+<li>Silence of Dean Maitland, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Simple Story, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 174<br /></li>
+<li>Sir Charles Grandison &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 130<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Smith, Adam</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 350<br /></li>
+<li>Smoke &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 272<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Smollett, Tobias</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 64 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Social Contract, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 337<br /></li>
+<li>Sociology, Principles of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 145<br /></li>
+<li>Socrates, Apology or Defence of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 75<br /></li>
+<li>Some Fruits of Solitude &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 222<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sophocles</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 237<br /></li>
+<li>Sorrows of Young Werther &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 253<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Southey, Robert</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 226<br /></li>
+<li>Spain: (Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 271<br /></li>
+<li>Spectator, The &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Speke, John Hanning</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 251<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Spencer, Herbert</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 120 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Spinoza, Benedict de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 160<br /></li>
+<li>Spirit of Laws, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 306<br /></li>
+<li>Spy, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 297<br /></li>
+<li id="staal"><span class="smcap">Staal</span>, Mme. <span class="smcap">de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 238<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Staël</span>, Mme. <span class="smcap">de</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 89; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Stanhope, Earl</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 248<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 260<br /></li>
+<li id="stendhal"><span class="smcap">Stendhal</span> (<span class="smcap">Henri Beyle</span>) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 103<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sterne, Laurence</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 117; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 263<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Stowe, Harriet Beecher</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 130<br /></li>
+<li>Stafford&nbsp; XVI 165<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Strickland, Agnes</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 270<br /></li>
+<li>Struggle of the Nations, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 20<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Sue, Eugène</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 143<br /></li>
+<li>Surface of the Globe, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 33<br /></li>
+<li>Sweden (History of Charles XII) &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 280<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Swedenborg, Emanuel</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 249<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Swift, Jonathan</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 157; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 282<br /></li>
+<li>Sybil, or The Two Nations &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 243<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Table Talk by Martin Luther &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 102<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Tacitus, Publius Cornelius</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 156; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_286">286</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Taine, Hippolyte Adolphe</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 177; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /></li>
+<li>Tale of Two Cities &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 213<br /></li>
+<li>Tales from Shakespeare&nbsp; XVIII 170<br /></li>
+<li>Talisman, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 25<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Talmud, The</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 259<br /></li>
+<li>Tancred &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 256<br /></li>
+<li>Tartarin of Tarascon &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>Tartuffe&nbsp; XVIII 29<br /></li>
+<li>Task, The&nbsp; XVI 290<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Tasso, Torquato</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 250<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Tennyson, Alfred Lord</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 261 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Thackeray, William Makepeace</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 169 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Theory of the Earth &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 170<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Thomson, James</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 293<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Thoreau, Henry David</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /></li>
+<li>Three Musketeers, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 316<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Thucydides</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 95<br /></li>
+<li>Timar's Two Worlds &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 212<br /></li>
+<li>Timbuctoo the Mysterious &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 136<br /></li>
+<li>Titan &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 152<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Tocqueville, De</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 117; &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /></li>
+<li>Toilers of the Sea, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 146<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Tolstoy, Count</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 205; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 291 <i>seq.</i> (Confession, etc.)<br /></li>
+<li>Tom Brown's Schooldays &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 99<br /></li>
+<li>Tom Brown at Oxford &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 110<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Burke of Ours &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 39<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Cringle's Log &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 229<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Jones &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 155<br /></li>
+<li>Tour in Lapland, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 181<br /></li>
+<li>Tower of London &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 17<br /></li>
+<li>Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a><br /></li>
+<li>Travels on the Amazon &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 285<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; to Discover the Source of the Nile &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 47<br /></li>
+<li>Travels in France &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 327<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">362</a></span><br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; in the Interior of Africa &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 219<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; of Marco Polo &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 229<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; in Nubia &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 57<br /></li>
+<li>Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 227<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; on Painting &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li>
+<li>Tristram Shandy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 117<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Trollope, Anthony</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 221 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Troy and Its Remains &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 32<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Turgenev, Ivan</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 245 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 287<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Years After &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 331<br /></li>
+<li>Two Years Ago &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 270<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; before the Mast &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 335<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Uncle Silas &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 1<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Tom's Cabin &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 130<br /></li>
+<li>Under Two Flags &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 326<br /></li>
+<li>Undine &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 180<br /></li>
+<li>United Netherlands, History of the &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 234<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; States, History of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 1;<br />
+  <ul>
+  <li>see also <a href="#america">America</a></li>
+  </ul></li>
+<li>Urania &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 168<br /></li>
+<li>Utopia: Nowhereland &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 315<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Valkyrie&nbsp; XVIII 316<br /></li>
+<li>Vanity Fair &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 192<br /></li>
+<li>Venice Preserved&nbsp; XVIII 48<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Verne, Jules</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 287<br /></li>
+<li>Vertebrates, Anatomy of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 280<br /></li>
+<li>Vestiges of Creation &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 22<br /></li>
+<li>Vicar of Wakefield, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 175<br /></li>
+<li>View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 155<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Villari, Pasquale</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 312<br /></li>
+<li>Villette &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 83<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Vinci, Leonardo da</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Virchow, Rudolf</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 292<br /></li>
+<li>Virginians, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 181<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Voltaire</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 101; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 259; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 280; &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 275<br /></li>
+<li>Von Ranke: see <a href="#ranke"><span class="smcap">Ranke, Von</span></a><br /></li>
+<li>Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 124<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; to the Isle of France &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 241<br /></li>
+<li>Voyage to the Moon, A &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 265<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; and Travel &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 210<br /></li>
+<li>Voyages Round the World &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 100<br /></li>
+
+<li id="wagner" class="p1"><span class="smcap">Wagner, Wilhelm Richard</span>&nbsp; <b>XVIII</b> 305 <i>seq.</i><br /></li>
+<li>Walden &nbsp; XX <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Wallace, Alfred Russell</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 285<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Walpole, Horace</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 303<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Walton, Isaak</span> &nbsp; <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /></li>
+<li>Wanderings in South America &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 313<br /></li>
+<li>War, The Future of &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 199<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Warburton, Eliot</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 299<br /></li>
+<li>Warden, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 221<br /></li>
+<li>Wars of the Jews &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 55<br /></li>
+<li id="wash">Washington, Life of George &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 51<br /></li>
+<li>Water-Babies &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 282<br /></li>
+<li>Waterloo &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 97<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Waterton, Charles</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 313<br /></li>
+<li>Way of the World, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 288<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, The&nbsp; XVI 253<br /></li>
+<li>Wealth of Nations, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 350<br /></li>
+<li>Werther, Sorrows of Young &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 253<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Wesley, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 327<br /></li>
+<li>Westward Ho! &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 294<br /></li>
+<li>Wild North Land, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 89<br /></li>
+<li>&mdash;&mdash; Wales &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 13<br /></li>
+<li>Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 263<br /></li>
+<li>William Tell&nbsp; XVIII 129<br /></li>
+<li>Woman in White, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 262<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Woolman, John</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 341<br /></li>
+<li>World as Will and Idea, The &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 99<br /></li>
+<li>Wuthering Heights &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 97<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Xenophon</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 110<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Young, Arthur</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 327<br /></li>
+
+<li class="p1">Zelter, Goethe's Letters to &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 283<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Zola, Émile</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 318<br /></li>
+<li>Zoological Philosophy &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 179<br /></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Zoroastrianism</span> &nbsp; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 76<br /></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<h2><a name="Transcribers_Notes" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber's Notes</a></h2>
+
+<p>The Index in this eBook uses Roman numerals to reference all twenty
+volumes of this series. Most of those volumes are available at no charge
+from Project Gutenberg:</p>
+
+<div class="p1 center">
+<table summary="Links to other volumes">
+  <tr><th class="tdr top">VOL.</th><th class="tdl">PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK</th></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">I:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">II:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">III:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">IV:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">V:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">VI:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">VII:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">VIII:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">IX:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">X:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XI:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XII:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XIII:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XIV:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XV:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XVI:</td>
+    <td class="tdl">not available when this eBook was produced</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XVII:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XVIII:</td>
+    <td class="tdl">not available when this eBook was produced</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XIX:</td>
+    <td class="tdl"><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998</a></td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr top">XX:</td>
+    <td class="tdl">this volume</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Links to those volumes have been included for use on devices that
+support them. The links are to the volumes, not to the specific pages.
+However, references to this volume (XX) are linked to the pages. No
+links are given for volumes XVI and XVIII, as they were not available
+at Project Gutenberg when this eBook was produced.</p>
+
+<p>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
+preference was found for the same author in this book; otherwise
+they were not changed.</p>
+
+<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
+quotation marks corrected in simple situations, otherwise unchanged.</p>
+
+<p>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</p>
+
+<p>Editor's comments at the beginning of each Chapter originally were
+printed at the bottom of the page, but have been repositioned here
+to appear just below the Chapter titles.</p>
+
+<p>This eBook contains references to other volumes in this series, most of
+which are available at no charge from Project Gutenberg:</p>
+
+<p>Page &nbsp; <a href="#Page_49">49</a>: "corollory" was printed that way.</p>
+
+<p>Page &nbsp; <a href="#Page_80">80</a>: "than an hours spent" was printed that way.</p>
+
+<p>Page &nbsp; <a href="#Page_148">148</a>: "perserver" may be a misprint for "preserver".</p>
+
+<p>Page &nbsp; <a href="#Page_163">163</a>: "Circeronianus" was printed that way.</p>
+
+<p>Page &nbsp; <a href="#Page_346">346</a>: "I enjoyed it an turned" probably is a misprint for "and".</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX
+-- Miscellaneous Literature and Inde, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+***** This file should be named 44704-h.htm or 44704-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/7/0/44704/
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/old/44704-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/44704-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..830b84e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-h/images/cover.jpg
diff --git a/old/44704-h/images/frontis.jpg b/old/44704-h/images/frontis.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..189a2b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-h/images/frontis.jpg
diff --git a/old/44704-h/images/ititle.jpg b/old/44704-h/images/ititle.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a95d3da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704-h/images/ititle.jpg
diff --git a/old/44704.txt b/old/44704.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45092d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,14462 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX --
+Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX -- Miscellaneous Literature and Index
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Arthur Mee
+        J. A. Hammerton
+
+Release Date: January 18, 2014 [EBook #44704]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note: Italics are indicated by _underscores_ and boldface
+by =equals signs=. A complete Index of all 20 volumes of THE WORLD'S
+GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of this volume.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (signed) Matthew Arnold]
+
+
+
+
+    THE WORLD'S
+    GREATEST
+    BOOKS
+
+
+    JOINT EDITORS
+
+    ARTHUR MEE
+    Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
+
+    J. A. HAMMERTON
+    Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
+
+
+    VOL. XX
+
+    MISCELLANEOUS
+    LITERATURE
+
+    INDEX
+
+
+    WM. H. WISE & CO.
+
+
+
+
+_Table of Contents_
+
+
+  PORTRAIT OF MATTHEW ARNOLD                    _Frontispiece_
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH                                         PAGE
+      Spectator                                              1
+
+  AESOP
+      Fables                                                10
+
+  ARNOLD, MATTHEW
+      Essays in Criticism                                   18
+
+  BRANDES, GEORGE
+      Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature        31
+
+  BURTON, ROBERT
+      Anatomy of Melancholy                                 41
+
+  CARLYLE, THOMAS
+      On Heroes and Hero Worship                            50
+      Sartor Resartus                                       61
+
+  CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS
+      Concerning Friendship                                 70
+
+  COBBETT, WILLIAM
+      Advice to Young Men                                   78
+
+  DEFOE, DANIEL
+      Journal of the Plague Year                            90
+
+  DESMOSTHENES
+      Philippics                                            99
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO
+      English Traits                                       109
+      Representative Men                                   118
+
+  ERASMUS
+      Familiar Colloquies                                  126
+      In Praise of Folly                                   132
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM                                          140
+
+  GOLDSMITH, OLIVER
+      Citizen of the World                                 149
+
+  HALLAM, HENRY
+      Introduction to the Literature of Europe             158
+
+  HAZLITT, WILLIAM
+      Lectures on the English Poets                        169
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL
+      Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table                      181
+
+  LA BRUYERE
+      Characters                                           193
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE
+      Imaginary Conversations                              203
+
+  LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+      Reflections and Moral Maxims                         215
+
+  LEONARDO DA VINCI
+      Treatise on Painting                                 227
+
+  LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM
+      Laocoon                                              239
+
+  MILL, JOHN STUART
+      Essay on Liberty                                     248
+
+  MILTON, JOHN
+      Areopagitica                                         257
+
+  PLUTARCH
+      Parallel Lives                                       266
+
+  STAEL, MME. DE
+      On Germany                                           276
+
+  TACITUS
+      Germania                                             286
+
+  TAINE
+      History of English Literature                        298
+
+  THOREAU, HENRY DAVID
+      Walden                                               312
+
+  TOCQUEVILLE, DE
+      Democracy in America                                 324
+
+  WALTON, IZAAK
+      Complete Angler                                      334
+
+  INDEX                                                    349
+
+
+
+
+Miscellaneous
+
+
+
+
+JOSEPH ADDISON
+
+The Spectator
+
+  "The Spectator," the most popular and elegant miscellany of
+  English literature, appeared on the 1st of March, 1711. With an
+  interruption of two years--1712 to 1714--during part of which
+  time "The Guardian," a similar periodical, took its place, "The
+  Spectator" was continued to the 20th of December, 1714. Addison's
+  fame is inseparably associated with this periodical. He was the
+  animating spirit of the magazine, and by far the most exquisite
+  essays which appear in it are by him. Richard Steele, Addison's
+  friend and coadjutor in "The Spectator," was born in Dublin
+  in March, 1672, and died at Carmarthen on September 1, 1729.
+  (Addison biography, see Vol. XVI, p. 1.)
+
+
+_The Essays and the Essayist_
+
+Addison's "Spectator" is one of the most interesting books in the
+English language. When Dr. Johnson praised Addison's prose, it was
+specially of "The Spectator" that he was speaking. "His page," he
+says, "is always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendour.
+His sentences have neither studied amplitude nor affected brevity; his
+periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever
+wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant
+but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to Addison."
+
+Johnson's verdict has been upheld, for it is chiefly by "The Spectator"
+that Addison lives. None but scholars know his Latin verse and
+his voluminous translations now. His "Cato" survives only in some
+half-dozen occasional quotations. Two or three hymns of his, including
+"The spacious firmament on high," and "When all Thy mercies, O my God,"
+find a place in church collections; and his simile of the angel who
+rides upon the whirlwind and directs the storm is used now and again
+by pressmen and public speakers. But, in the main, when we think of
+Addison, it is of "The Spectator" that we think.
+
+Recall the time when it was founded. It was in the days of Queen Anne,
+the Augustan age of the essay. There were no newspapers then, no
+magazines or reviews, no Parliamentary reports, nothing corresponding
+to the so-called "light literature" of later days. The only centres of
+society that existed were the court, with the aristocracy that revolved
+about it, and the clubs and coffee-houses, in which the commercial
+and professional classes met to discuss matters of general interest,
+to crack their jokes, and to exchange small talk about this, that and
+the other person, man or woman, who might happen to figure, publicly
+or privately, at the time. "The Spectator" was one of the first organs
+to give form and consistency to the opinion, the humour and the gossip
+engendered by this social contact.
+
+One of the first, but not quite the first; for the less famous, though
+still remembered, "Tatler" preceded it. And these two, "The Tatler" and
+"The Spectator," have an intimate connection from the circumstance that
+Richard Steele, who started "The Tatler" in April, 1709, got Addison to
+write for it, and then joined with Addison in "The Spectator" when his
+own paper stopped in January, 1711. Addison and Steele had been friends
+since boyhood. They were contemporaries at the Charterhouse, and Steele
+often spent his holidays in the parsonage of Addison's father.
+
+The two friends were a little under forty years of age when "The
+Spectator" began in March, 1711. It was a penny paper, and was
+published daily, its predecessor having been published three times a
+week. It began with a circulation of 3,000 copies, and ran up to about
+10,000 before it stopped its daily issue in December, 1712. Macaulay,
+writing in 1843, insists upon the sale as "indicating a popularity
+quite as great as that of the most successful works of Scott and
+Dickens in our time." The 555 numbers of the daily issue formed seven
+volumes; and then there was a final eighth volume, made up of triweekly
+issues: a total of 635 numbers, of which Addison wrote 274, and Steele
+236.
+
+To summarise the contents of these 635 numbers would require a volume.
+They are so versatile and so varied. As one of Addison's biographers
+puts it, to-day you have a beautiful meditation, brilliant in imagery
+and serious as a sermon, or a pious discourse on death, or perhaps
+an eloquent and scathing protest against the duel; while to-morrow
+the whole number is perhaps concerned with the wigs, ruffles, and
+shoe-buckles of the _macaroni_, or the hoops, patches, farthingales
+and tuckers of the ladies. If you wish to see the plays and actors of
+the time, "The Spectator" will always show them to you; and, moreover,
+point out the dress, manners, and mannerisms, affectations, indecorums,
+plaudits, or otherwise of the frequenters of the theatre.
+
+For here is no newspaper, as we understand the term. "The Spectator"
+from the first indulged his humours at the expense of the quidnuncs.
+Says he:
+
+"There is another set of men that I must likewise lay a claim to
+as being altogether unfurnished with ideas till the business and
+conversation of the day has supplied them. I have often considered
+these poor souls with an eye of great commiseration when I have heard
+them asking the first man they have met with whether there was any news
+stirring, and by that means gathering together materials for thinking.
+These needy persons do not know what to talk of till about twelve
+o'clock in the morning; for by that time they are pretty good judges
+of the weather, know which way the wind sets, and whether the Dutch
+mail be come in. As they lie at the mercy of the first man they meet,
+and are grave or impertinent all the day long, according to the notions
+which they have imbibed in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them
+not to stir out of their chambers till they have read this paper; and
+do promise them that I will daily instil into them such sound and
+wholesome sentiments as shall have a good effect on their conversation
+for the ensuing twelve hours."
+
+Now, the essential, or at least the leading feature of "The Spectator"
+is this: that the entertainment is provided by an imaginary set of
+characters forming a Spectator Club. The club represents various
+classes or sections of the community, so that through its members a
+corresponding variety of interests and opinions is set before the
+reader, the Spectator himself acting as a sort of final censor or
+referee. Chief among the Club members is Sir Roger de Coverley, a
+simple, kindly, honourable, old-world country gentleman. Here is the
+description of this celebrated character:
+
+"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of
+ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His
+great-grandfather was inventor of that famous country dance which is
+called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted
+with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very
+singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good
+sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world only as he
+thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humour creates him
+no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his
+being unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the readier and more
+capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he
+lives in Soho Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor by reason
+he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county
+to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a
+fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George
+Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully
+Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being
+ill-used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year
+and a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last
+got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards.
+He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in
+fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he
+tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. It
+is said Sir Roger grew humble in his desires after he had forgot this
+cruel beauty, insomuch that it is reported he was frequently offended
+with beggars and gipsies; but this is looked upon by his friends rather
+as matter of raillery than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year,
+cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country;
+a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthful cast in his
+behaviour that he is rather beloved than esteemed."
+
+Then there is Sir Andrew Freeport, "a merchant of great eminence in the
+City of London; a person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and
+great experience." He is "acquainted with commerce in all its parts;
+and will tell you it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion
+by arms; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will
+often argue that, if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we
+should gain from one nation; and if another, from another."
+
+There is Captain Sentry, too, "a gentleman of great courage and
+understanding, but invincible modesty," who in the club speaks for the
+army, as the templar does for taste and learning, and the clergyman for
+theology and philosophy.
+
+And then, that the club may not seem to be unacquainted with "the
+gallantries and pleasures of the age," there is Will Honeycomb, the
+elderly man of fashion, who is "very ready at that sort of discourse
+with which men usually entertain women." Will "knows the history of
+every mode, and can inform you from which of the French king's wenches
+our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that
+way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort
+of petticoat; and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the
+dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and
+knowledge have been in the female world. As other men of his age will
+take notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an
+occasion, he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court,
+such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head
+of his troop in the park. This way of talking of his very much enlivens
+the conversation among us of a more sedate turn; and I find there is
+not one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks
+of him as that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred fine
+gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concerned, he
+is an honest, worthy man."
+
+Nor must we forget Will Wimble, though he is really an outsider. Will
+is the younger son of a baronet: a man of no profession, looking after
+his father's game, training his dogs, shooting, fishing, hunting,
+making whiplashes for his neighbors, knitting garters for the ladies,
+and afterwards slyly inquiring how they wear: a welcome guest at every
+house in the county; beloved by all the lads and the children.
+
+Besides these, and others, there is a fine little gallery of portraits
+in Sir Roger's country neighbours and tenants. We have, for instance,
+the yeoman who "knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a
+week, and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not
+so good an estate as himself"; and we have Moll White, the reputed
+witch, who, if she made a mistake at church and cried "Amen!" in a
+wrong place, "they never failed to conclude that she was saying her
+prayers backwards." We have the diverting captain, "young, sound,
+and impudent"; we have a demure Quaker; we have Tom Touchy, a fellow
+famous for "taking the law" of everybody; and we have the inn-keeper,
+who, out of compliment to Sir Roger, "put him up in a sign-post before
+the door," and then, when Sir Roger objected, changed the figure into
+the Saracen's Head by "a little aggravation of the features" and the
+addition of a pair of whiskers!
+
+Best of all is the old chaplain. Sir Roger was "afraid of being
+insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table"; so he got a university
+friend to "find him out a clergyman, rather of plain sense than much
+learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if
+possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon." The genial
+knight "made him a present of all the good sermons printed in English,
+and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of
+them in the pulpit." Thus, if Sir Roger happened to meet his chaplain
+on a Saturday evening, and asked who was to preach to-morrow, he would
+perhaps be answered: "The Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and
+Dr. South in the afternoon." About which arrangement "The Spectator"
+boldly observes: "I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy
+would follow this example; and, instead of wasting their spirits in
+laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome
+elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce what
+has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to
+themselves, but more edifying to the people."
+
+There is no end to the subjects discussed by "The Spectator." They
+range from dreams to dress and duelling; from ghosts to gardening and
+goats' milk; from wigs to wine and widows; from religion to riches
+and riding; from servants to sign-posts and snuff-boxes; from love
+to lodgings and lying; from beards to bankruptcy and blank verse; and
+hundreds of other interesting themes. Correspondents often wrote to
+emphasise this variety, for letters from the outside public were always
+welcome. Thus one "Thomas Trusty":
+
+"The variety of your subjects surprises me as much as a box of
+pictures did formerly, in which there was only one face, that by
+pulling some pieces of isinglass over it was changed into a senator or
+a merry-andrew, a polished lady or a nun, a beau or a blackamoor, a
+prude or a coquette, a country squire or a conjurer, with many other
+different representations very entertaining, though still the same at
+the bottom."
+
+But perhaps, on the whole, woman and her little ways have the
+predominant attention. Indeed, Addison expressly avowed this object of
+engaging the special interests of the sex when he started. He says:
+
+"There are none to whom this paper will be more useful than to the
+female world. I have often thought that there has not been sufficient
+pains taken in finding out proper employments and diversions for the
+fair ones. Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as they
+are women than as they are reasonable creatures; and are more adapted
+to the sex than to the species. The toilet is their great scene
+of business, and the right adjustment of their hair the principal
+employment of their lives. The sorting of a suit of ribands is reckoned
+a very good morning's work; and if they make an excursion to a mercer's
+or a toy-shop, so great a fatigue makes them unfit for anything else
+all the day after. Their more serious occupations are sewing and
+embroidery, and their greatest drudgery the preparations of jellies and
+sweetmeats. This, I say, is the state of ordinary women; though I know
+there are multitudes of those of a more elevated life and conversation,
+that move in an exalted sphere of knowledge and virtue, that join all
+the beauties of the mind to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind
+of awe and respect, as well as of love, into their male beholders.
+I hope to increase the number of these by publishing this daily
+paper, which I shall always endeavour to make an innocent, if not an
+improving, entertainment, and by that means, at least, divert the minds
+of my female readers from greater trifles."
+
+These reflections on the manners of women did not quite please Swift,
+who wrote to Stella: "I will not meddle with 'The Spectator'; let him
+_fair sex_ it to the world's end." But they pleased most other people,
+as the main contents of "The Spectator" still please. Here is one
+typical acknowledgment, signed "Leonora":
+
+  Mr. Spectator,--Your paper is part of my tea-equipage; and my
+  servant knows my humour so well that, calling for my breakfast
+  this morning (it being past my usual hour), she answered, "'the
+  Spectator' was not yet come in, but the tea-kettle boiled, and
+  she expected it every moment."
+
+As an "abstract and brief chronicle of the time," this monumental work
+of Addison and Steele is without peer. In its pages may be traced the
+foundations of all that is noble and healthy in modern English thought;
+and its charming sketches may be made the open sesame to a period and a
+literature as rich as any our country has seen.
+
+
+
+
+AESOP
+
+Fables
+
+  It is in the fitness of things that the early biographies of
+  AEsop, the great fabulist, should be entirely fabulous. Macrobius
+  has distinguished between _fabula_ and _fabulosa narratio_:
+  "He would have a fable to be absolutely false, and a fabulous
+  narration to be a number of fictions built upon a foundation of
+  truth." The Lives of AEsop belong chiefly to the latter category.
+  In the following pages what is known of the life of AEsop is set
+  forth, together with condensed versions of some of his most
+  characteristic fables, which have long passed into the wisdom of
+  all nations, this being a subject that calls for treatment on
+  somewhat different lines from the majority of the works dealt
+  with in THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS.
+
+
+_Introductory_
+
+Pierre Bayle, in his judicious fashion, sums up what is said of AEsop in
+antiquity, resting chiefly upon Plutarch. "Plutarch affirms: (1) That
+Croesus sent AEsop to Periander, the Tyrant of Corinth, and to the Oracle
+of Delphi; (2) that Socrates found no other expedient to obey the God
+of Dreams, without injuring his profession, than to turn the Fables of
+AEsop into verse; (3) that AEsop and Solon were together at the Court of
+Croesus, King of Lydia; (4) that those of Delphi, having put AEsop to
+death cruelly and unjustly, and finding themselves exposed to several
+calamities on account of this injustice, made a public declaration that
+they were ready to make satisfaction to the memory of AEsop; (5) that
+having treated thereupon with a native of Samos, they were delivered
+from the evil that afflicted them."
+
+To this summary Bayle added a footnote concerning "The Life of
+AEsop, composed by Meziriac": "It is a little book printed at
+Bourg-en-Bress, in 1632. It contains only forty pages in 16. It is
+becoming exceedingly scarce.... This is what I extract from it. It
+is more probable that AEsop was born at Cotioeum, a town of Phrygia,
+than that he was born at Sardis, or in the island of Samos, or at
+Mesembria in Thrace. The first master that he served was one Zemarchus,
+or Demarchus, surnamed Carasius, a native and inhabitant of Athens.
+Thus it is probable that it was there he learned the purity of the
+Greek tongue, as in its spring, and acquired the knowledge of moral
+philosophy which was then in esteem....
+
+"In process of time he was sold to Xanthus, a native of the Isle of
+Samos, and afterwards to Idmon, or Iadmnon, the philosopher, who was
+a Samian also, and who enfranchised him. After he had recovered his
+liberty, he soon acquired a great reputation among the Greeks; so that
+the report of his singular wisdom having reached the ears of Croesus,
+he sent to inquire after him; and having conceived an affection for
+him, he obliged him by his favours to engage himself in his service to
+the end of his life. He travelled through Greece--whether for his own
+pleasure or for the private affairs of Croesus is uncertain--and passing
+by Athens, soon after Pisistratus had usurped the sovereign power there
+and had abolished the popular state, and seeing that the Athenians
+bore the yoke very impatiently, he told them the Fable of the Frogs
+that asked a King of Jupiter. Afterwards he met the Seven Wise Men in
+the City of Corinth at the Tyrant Periander's. Some relate that, in
+order to show that the life of man is full of miseries, and that one
+pleasure is attended with a thousand pains, AEsop used to say that when
+Prometheus took the clay to form man, he did not temper it with water,
+but with tears."
+
+Concerning the death of this extraordinary man we read that AEsop went
+to Delphi, with a great quantity of gold and silver, being ordered by
+Croesus to offer a great sacrifice to Apollo, and to give a considerable
+sum to each inhabitant. The quarrel which arose between the Delphians
+and him was the occasion, after his sending away the sacrifice, of his
+sending back the money to Croesus; for he thought that those for whom
+this prince designed it had rendered themselves unworthy of it. The
+inhabitants of Delphi contrived an accusation of sacrilege against him,
+and, pretending that they had convicted him, cast him down from the top
+of a rock.
+
+Bayle has a long line of centuries at his back when he says: "AEsop's
+lectures against the faults of men were the fullest of good sense and
+wit that can be imagined." He substantiates this affirmation in the
+following manner: "Can any inventions be more happy than the images
+AEsop made use of to instruct mankind? They are exceedingly fit for
+children, and no less proper for grown persons; they are all that is
+necessary to perfect a precept --I mean the mixture of the useful with
+the agreeable." He then quotes Aulus Gellius as saying: "AEsop the
+Phrygian fabulist was not without reason esteemed to be wise, since he
+did not, after the manner of the philosophers, severely and imperiously
+command such things as were fit to be advised and persuaded, but by
+feigning, diverting and entertaining apologues, he insinuates good
+and wholesome advice into the minds of men with a kind of willing
+attention."
+
+Bayle continues: "At all times these have been made to succeed the
+homespun stories of nurses. 'Let them learn to tell the Fables of
+AEscop, which succeed the stories of the nursery, in pure and easy
+style, and afterwards endeavour to write in the same familiar manner.'
+They have never fallen into contempt. Our age, notwithstanding its
+pride and delicacy, esteems and admires them, and shows them in a
+hundred different shapes. The inimitable La Fontaine has procured them
+in our time a great deal of honour and glory; and great commendations
+are given to the reflections of an English wit, Sir Roger L'Estrange,
+on these very fables."
+
+Since the period when Pierre Bayle composed his great biographical
+dictionary, the Fables of AEsop have perhaps suffered something of a
+relapse in the favour of grown persons; but if one may judge from the
+number of new editions illustrated for children, they are still the
+delight of modern nurseries. There is this, however, to be said of
+contemporary times--that the multitude of books in a nursery prevent
+children from acquiring the profound and affectionate acquaintance with
+AEsop which every child would naturally get when his fables were almost
+the only book provided by the Press for juvenile readers.
+
+It is questionable whether the fables will any longer produce the
+really deep effect which they certainly have had in the past. But we
+may be certain that some of them will always play a great part in the
+wisdom of the common people, and that these particularly true and
+striking apologues are secure of an eternal place in the literature
+of nations. As an example of what we mean, we will tell as simply as
+possible some of the most characteristic fables.
+
+
+_The Dog and the Shadow_
+
+A Dog, with a piece of stolen meat between his teeth, was one day
+crossing a river by means of a plank, when he caught sight of another
+dog in the water carrying a far larger piece of meat. He opened his
+jaws to snap at the greater morsel, when the meat dropped in the stream
+and was lost even in the reflection.
+
+
+_The Dying Lion_
+
+A Lion, brought to the extremity of weakness by old age and disease,
+lay dying in the sunlight. Those whom he had oppressed in his strength
+now came round about him to revenge themselves for past injuries. The
+Boar ripped the flank of the King of Beasts with his tusks. The Bull
+came and gored the Lion's sides with his horns. Finally, the Ass drew
+near, and after carefully seeing that there was no danger, let fly with
+his heels in the Lion's face. Then, with a dying groan, the mighty
+creature exclaimed: "How much worse it is than a thousand deaths to be
+spurned by so base a creature!"
+
+
+_The Mountain in Labour_
+
+A Mountain was heard to produce dreadful sounds, as though it were
+labouring to bring forth something enormous. The people came and stood
+about waiting to see what wonderful thing would be produced from this
+labour. After they had waited till they were tired, out crept a Mouse.
+
+
+_Hercules and the Waggoner_
+
+A Waggoner was driving his team through a muddy lane when the wheels
+stuck fast in the clay, and the Horses could get no farther. The Man
+immediately dropped on his knees, and, crying bitterly, besought
+Hercules to come and help him. "Get up and stir thyself, thou lazy
+fellow!" replied Hercules. "Whip thy Horses, and put thy shoulder to
+the wheel. If thou art in need of my help, when thou thyself hast
+laboured, then shalt thou have it."
+
+
+_The Frogs that Asked for a King_
+
+The Frogs, who lived an easy, happy life in the ponds, once prayed to
+Jupiter that he should give them a King. Jupiter was amused by this
+prayer, and cast a log into the water, saying: "There, then, is a King
+for you." The Frogs, frightened by the great splash, regarded their
+King with alarm, until at last, seeing that he did not stir, some of
+them jumped upon his back and began to be merry there, amused at such
+a foolish King. However, King Log did not satisfy their ideas for very
+long, and so once again they petitioned Jupiter to send them a King, a
+real King who would rule over them, and not lie helpless in the water.
+Then Jupiter sent the Frogs a Stork, who caught them by their legs,
+tossed them in the air, and gobbled them up whenever he was hungry.
+All in a hurry the Frogs besought Jupiter to take away King Stork
+and restore them to their former happy condition. "No, no," answered
+Jupiter; "a King that did you no hurt did not please you; make the best
+of him you now have, lest a worse come in his place!"
+
+
+_The Gnat and the Lion_
+
+A lively and insolent Gnat was bold enough to attack a Lion, which he
+so maddened by stinging the most sensitive parts of his nose, eyes
+and ears that the beast roared with anguish and tore himself with
+his claws. In vain were the Lion's efforts to rid himself of his
+insignificant tormentor; again and again the insect returned and stung
+the furious King of Beasts, till at last the Lion fell exhausted on the
+ground. The triumphant Gnat, sounding his tiny trumpet, hovered over
+the spot exulting in his victory. But it happened that in his circling
+flight he got himself caught in the web of a Spider, which, fine and
+delicate as it was, yet had power enough to hold the tiny insect a
+prisoner. All the Gnat's efforts to escape only held him the more
+tightly and firmly a prisoner, and he who had conquered the Lion became
+in his turn the prey of the Spider.
+
+
+_The Wolf and the Stork_
+
+A Wolf ate his food so greedily that a bone stuck in his throat. This
+caused him such great pain that he ran hither and thither, promising
+to reward handsomely anyone who would remove the cause of his torture.
+A Stork, moved with pity by the Wolf's cry of pain, and tempted also
+by the reward, undertook the dangerous operation. When he had removed
+the bone, the Wolf moved away, but the Stork called out and reminded
+him of the promised reward. "Reward!" exclaimed the Wolf. "Pray, you
+greedy fellow, what reward can you expect? You dared to put your head
+in my mouth, and instead of biting it off, I let you take it out again
+unharmed. Get away with you! And do not again place yourself in my
+power."
+
+
+_The Frog who Wanted to Be as Big as an Ox_
+
+A vain Frog, surrounded by her children, looked up and saw an Ox
+grazing near by. "I can be as big as the Ox," she said, and began to
+blow herself out. "Am I as big now?" she inquired. "Oh, no; not nearly
+so big!" said the little frogs. "Now?" she asked, blowing herself out
+still more. "No, not nearly so big!" answered her children. "But now?"
+she inquired eagerly, and blew herself out still more. "No, not even
+now," they said; "and if you try till you burst yourself you will never
+be so big." But the Frog would not listen, and attempting to make
+herself bigger still, burst her skin and died.
+
+
+_The Dog in the Manger_
+
+A Dog lay in a manger which was full of hay. An Ox, being hungry, came
+near, and was about to eat when the Dog started up, and, with angry
+snarls, would not let the Ox approach. "Surly brute," said the Ox; "you
+cannot eat the hay yourself, and you will let no one else have any."
+
+
+_The Bundle of Faggots_
+
+An honest Man had the unhappiness to have a quarrelsome family of
+children. One day he called them before him, and bade them try to break
+a bundle of faggots. All tried, and all failed. "Now," said he, "unbind
+the bundle and take every stick by itself, and see if you cannot break
+them." They did his bidding, and snapped all the sticks one by one with
+the greatest possible ease. "This, my children," said the Father at
+last, "is a true emblem of your condition. Keep together and you are
+safe, divide and you are undone."
+
+
+_The Fox Without a Tail_
+
+A Fox was once caught in a trap by his tail, and in order to get free
+was obliged to leave it behind. He knew that his fellows would make fun
+of his tailless condition, so he made up his mind to induce them all to
+part with their tails. At the next assemblage of Foxes he made a speech
+on the uselessness of tails in general, and the inconvenience of a
+Fox's tail in particular, declaring that never in his whole life had he
+felt so comfortable as now in his tailless freedom. When he sat down,
+a sly old Fox rose, and, waving his brush, said, with a sneer, that
+if he had lost his tail, he would be convinced by the last speaker's
+arguments, but until such an accident occurred he fully intended to
+vote in favour of tails.
+
+
+_The Blind Man and the Paralytic_
+
+A blind man finding himself stopped in a rough and difficult road,
+met with a paralytic and begged his assistance. "How can I help you,"
+replied the paralytic, "when I can scarcely move myself along?" But,
+regarding the blind man, he added: "However, you appear to have good
+legs and a broad back, and, if you will lift me and carry me, I will
+guide you safely through this difficulty, which is more than each one
+can surmount for himself. You shall walk for me, and I will see for
+you." "With all my heart," rejoined the blind man; and, taking the
+paralytic on his shoulders, the two went cheerfully forward in a wise
+partnership which triumphed over all difficulties.
+
+
+
+
+MATTHEW ARNOLD
+
+Essays in Criticism
+
+  Matthew Arnold, son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby (see Vol. X, p. 260),
+  was born on December 24, 1822, and died on April 15, 1888. He was
+  by everyday calling an inspector of schools and an educational
+  expert, but by nature and grace a poet, a philosopher, a man of
+  piety and of letters. Arnold almost ceased to write verse when
+  he was forty-five, though not without having already produced
+  some of the choicest poetry in the English language. Before
+  that he had developed his theories of literary criticism in his
+  "Essays in Criticism"; and about the time of his withdrawal
+  from Oxford he published "Culture and Anarchy," in which his
+  system of philosophy is broadly outlined. Later, in "St. Paul
+  and Protestantism," "Literature and Dogma" and "God and the
+  Bible," he tried to adjust Christianity according to the light of
+  modern knowledge. In his "Lectures on Translating Homer," he had
+  expressed views on criticism and its importance that were new to,
+  and so were somewhat adversely discussed by the Press. Whereupon,
+  in 1865, with a militant joy, he re-entered the fray and defined
+  the province of criticism in the first of a series of "Essays in
+  Criticism," showing the narrowness of the British conception.
+  "The Literary Influence of Academies" was a subject that enabled
+  him to make a further comparison between the literary genius of
+  the French and of the English people, and a number of individual
+  critiques that followed only enhanced his great and now
+  undisputed position both as a poet and as a critic. The argument
+  of the two general essays is given here.
+
+
+_I.--Creative Power and Critical Power_
+
+Many objections have been made to a proposition of mine about
+criticism: "Of the literature of France and Germany, as of the
+intellect of Europe in general, the main effort, for now many years,
+has been a critical effort--the endeavour, in all branches of
+knowledge, to see the object as in itself it really is." I added that
+"almost the last thing for which one would come to English literature
+was just that very thing which now Europe most desired--criticism,"
+and that the power and value of English literature were thereby
+impaired. More than one rejoinder declared that the importance here
+again assigned to criticism was excessive, and asserted the inherent
+superiority of the creative effort of the human spirit over its
+critical effort. A reporter of Wordsworth's conversation quotes a
+judgment to the same effect: "Wordsworth holds the critical power very
+low; indeed, infinitely lower than the inventive."
+
+The critical power is of lower rank than the inventive--true; but, in
+assenting to this proposition, we must keep in mind that men may have
+the sense of exercising a free creative activity in other ways than
+in producing great works of literature or art; and that the exercise
+of the creative power in the production of great works of literature
+or art is not at all epochs and under all conditions possible. This
+creative power works with elements, with materials--what if it has not
+those materials ready for its use? Now, in literature, the elements
+with which creative power works are ideas--the best ideas on every
+matter which literature touches, current at the time. The grand work of
+literary genius is a work of synthesis and exposition; its gift lies
+in the faculty of being happily inspired by a certain intellectual and
+spiritual atmosphere, by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself
+in them; of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in most
+effective and attractive combinations, making beautiful works with
+them, in short. But it must have the atmosphere, it must find itself
+amidst the order of the ideas, in order to work freely; and these it
+is not so easy to command. This is really why great creative epochs in
+literature are so rare--because, for the creation of a master-work of
+literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power
+of the moment; and the man is not enough without the moment.
+
+The creative power has for its happy exercise appointed elements, and
+those elements are not in its control. Nay, they are more within the
+control of the critical power. It is the business of the critical
+power in all branches of knowledge to see the object as in itself it
+really is. Thus it tends at last to make an intellectual situation of
+which the creative power can avail itself. It tends to establish an
+order of ideas, if not absolutely true, yet true by comparison with
+that which it displaces--to make the best ideas prevail. Presently
+these new ideas reach society; the touch of truth is the touch of life;
+and there is a stir and growth everywhere. Out of this stir and growth
+come the creative epochs of literature.
+
+
+_II.--The Literary "Atmosphere"_
+
+It has long seemed to me that the burst of creative activity in our
+literature through the first quarter of the nineteenth century had
+about it something premature, and for this cause its productions are
+doomed to prove hardly more lasting than the productions of far less
+splendid epochs. And this prematureness comes from its having proceeded
+without having its proper data, without sufficient materials to work
+with. In other words, the English poetry of the first quarter of the
+nineteenth century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force,
+did not know enough. This makes Byron so empty of matter, Shelley so
+incoherent, Wordsworth, profound as he is, so wanting in completeness
+and variety.
+
+It was not really books and reading that lacked to our poetry at this
+epoch. Shelley had plenty of reading, Coleridge had immense reading;
+Pindar and Sophocles had not many books; Shakespeare was no deep
+reader. True; but in the Greece of Pindar and Sophocles and the England
+of Shakespeare the poet lived in a current of ideas in the highest
+degree animating and nourishing to creative power.
+
+Such an atmosphere the many-sided learning and the long and widely
+combined critical effort of Germany formed for Goethe when he lived
+and worked. In the England of the first quarter of the nineteenth
+century there was neither a national glow of life and thought, such
+as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet a force of learning and
+criticism, such as was to be found in Germany. The creative power
+of poetry wanted, for success in the highest sense, materials and a
+basis--a thorough interpretation of the world was necessarily denied to
+it.
+
+At first it seems strange that out of the immense stir of the French
+Revolution and its age should not have come a crop of works of genius
+equal to that which came out of the stir of the great productive time
+of Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its powerful episode
+of the Reformation. But the truth is that the stir of the French
+Revolution took a character which essentially distinguished it from
+such movements as these. The French Revolution found, undoubtedly, its
+motive power in the intelligence of men, and not in their practical
+sense. It appeals to an order of ideas which are universal, certain,
+permanent. The year 1789 asked of a thing: Is it rational? That a
+whole nation should have been penetrated with an enthusiasm for pure
+reason is a very remarkable thing when we consider how little of mind,
+or anything so worthy or quickening as mind, comes into the motives
+which in general impel great masses of men. In spite of the crimes and
+follies in which it lost itself, the French Revolution derives, from
+the force, truth and universality of the ideas which it took for its
+law, a unique and still living power; and it is, and will probably long
+remain, the greatest, the most animating event in history.
+
+But the mania for giving an immediate political and practical
+application to all these fine ideas of the reason was fatal. Here
+an Englishman is in his element: on this theme we can all go on for
+hours. Ideas cannot be too much prized in and for themselves, cannot
+be too much lived with; but to transport them abruptly into the world
+of politics and practice, violently to revolutionise this world to
+their bidding--that is quite another thing. "Force and right are the
+governors of the world; force till right is ready" Joubert has said.
+The grand error of the French Revolution was that it set at naught
+the second great half of that maxim--force till right is ready--and,
+rushing furiously into the political sphere, created in opposition to
+itself what I may call an epoch of concentration.
+
+The great force of that epoch of concentration was England, and the
+great voice of that epoch of concentration was Burke. I will not
+deny that his writings are often disfigured by the violence and
+passion of the moment, and that in some directions Burke's view was
+bounded and his observations therefore at fault; but for those who
+can make the needful corrections what distinguishes these writings
+is their profound, permanent, fruitful, philosophical truth--they
+contain the true philosophy of an epoch of concentration. Now, an
+epoch of expansion seems to be opening in this country. In spite of
+the absorbing and brutalising influence of our passionate material
+progress, this progress is likely to lead in the end to an apparition
+of intellectual life. It is of the last importance that English
+criticism should discern what rule it ought to take, to avail itself
+of the field now opening to it. That rule may be summed up in one
+word--disinterestedness.
+
+
+_III.--The Virtue of Detachment_
+
+How is criticism to show disinterestedness? By keeping aloof from
+practice; by resolutely following the law of its own nature, which is
+to be a free play of the mind on all subjects which it touches. Its
+business is simply to know the best that is known and thought in the
+world, and by making this known to create a current of fresh and true
+ideas. What is at present the bane of criticism in this country? It
+is that our organs of criticism are organs of men and parties having
+practical ends to serve, and with them those practical ends are the
+first thing, and the play of the mind the second--so much play of mind
+as is compatible with the prosecution of these practical ends is all
+that is wanted.
+
+An organ like the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, existing as just an organ
+for a free play of mind, we have not; but we have the "Edinburgh
+Review," existing as an organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play
+of mind as may suit its being that; we have the "Quarterly Review,"
+existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as much play of mind as may
+suit its being that; we have the "British Quarterly Review," existing
+as an organ of the political Dissenters, and for as much play of mind
+as may suit its being that; we have "The Times," existing as an organ
+of the common, satisfied, well-to-do Englishman, and for as much play
+of mind as may suit its being that. And so on through all the various
+fractions, political and religious, of our society--every fraction
+has, as such, its organ of criticism, but the notion of combining all
+fractions in the common pleasure of a free, disinterested play of mind
+meets with no favour. Yet no other criticism will ever attain any real
+authority, or make any real way towards its end--the creating of a
+current of true and fresh ideas.
+
+It will be said that, by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue
+of detachment, criticism condemns itself to a slow and obscure work;
+but it is the only proper work of criticism. Whoever sets himself to
+see things as they are will find himself one of a very small circle;
+but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its work that
+adequate ideas will ever get current at all. For the practical man is
+not apt for fine distinctions, and yet in these distinctions truth and
+the highest culture greatly find their account. To act is so easy, as
+Goethe says, and to think is so hard. Criticism must maintain its
+independence of the practical spirit and its aims. Even with well meant
+efforts of the practical spirit it must express dissatisfaction if, in
+the sphere of the ideal, they seem impoverishing and limiting. It must
+be apt to study and praise elements that for the fulness of spiritual
+perfection are wanted, even though they belong to a power which, in
+the practical sphere, may be maleficent. It must be apt to discern the
+spiritual shortcomings of powers that in the practical sphere may be
+beneficent.
+
+By the very nature of things much of the best that is known and
+thought in the world cannot be of English growth--must be foreign;
+by the nature of things, again, it is just this that we are least
+likely to know, while English thought is streaming in upon us from all
+sides, and takes excellent care that we shall not be ignorant of its
+existence. The English critic must dwell much on foreign thought, and
+with particular heed on any part of it, which, while significant and
+fruitful in itself, is for any reason specially likely to escape him.
+
+Again, judging is often spoken of as the critic's business; and so in
+some sense it is. But the judgment which almost insensibly forms itself
+in a fair and clear mind, along with fresh knowledge, is the valuable
+one; and, therefore, knowledge, and ever fresh knowledge, must be the
+critic's great concern for himself. And it is by communicating fresh
+knowledge, and letting his own judgment pass along with it--as a sort
+of companion and clue--that he will generally do most good to his
+readers.
+
+To get near the standard of the best that is known and thought in the
+world, every critic should possess one great literature at least beside
+his own; and the more unlike his own the better. For the criticism I am
+concerned with regards Europe as being for intellectual and spiritual
+purposes one great confederation, bound to a joint action and working
+to a common result.
+
+I conclude with what I said at the beginning. To have the sense of
+creative activity is not denied to criticism; but then criticism must
+be sincere, simple, flexible, ardent, ever widening its knowledge. Then
+it may have, in no contemptible measure, a joyful sense of creative
+activity, a sense which a man of insight and conscience will prefer
+to that he might derive from a poor, starved, fragmentary, inadequate
+creation. And at some epochs no other creation is possible. Still, in
+full measure, the sense of creative activity belongs only to genuine
+creation; in literature we must never forget that. But what true man of
+letters ever can forget it? It is no such common matter for a gifted
+nature to come into possession of a current of true and living ideas,
+and to produce amidst the inspiration of them, that we are likely to
+underrate it. The glorious epochs of AEschylus and Shakespeare make us
+feel their pre-eminence. In an epoch like those is the true life of
+literature; there is the promised land towards which criticism can only
+beckon.
+
+
+_IV.--Should We Have an Academy?_
+
+It is impossible to put down a book like the history of the French
+Academy by Pellisson and D'Olivet without being led to reflect upon
+the absence in our own country of any institution like the French
+Academy, upon the probable causes of this absence, and upon its
+results. Improvement of the language was the declared grand aim for the
+operations of that academy. Its statutes of foundation say expressly
+that "the Academy's principal function shall be to work with all
+the care and all the diligence possible at giving sure rules to our
+language, and rendering it pure, eloquent and capable of treating
+the arts and sciences." It is said that Richelieu had it in his mind
+that French should succeed Latin in its general ascendancy, as Latin
+had succeeded Greek. If it were so, even this wish has to some extent
+been fulfilled. This was not all Richelieu had in his mind, however.
+The new academy was meant to be a literary tribunal, a high court of
+letters, and this is what it has really been.
+
+Such an effort, to set up a recognised authority, imposing on us a
+high standard in matters of intellect and taste, has many enemies in
+human nature. We all of us like to go our own way, and not to be forced
+out of the atmosphere of commonplace habitual to most of us. We like
+to be suffered to lie comfortably on the old straw of our habits,
+especially of our intellectual habits, even though this straw may not
+be very fine and clean. But if this effort to limit the freedom of our
+lower nature finds enemies in human nature, it also finds auxiliaries
+in it. Man alone of living creatures, says Cicero, goes feeling after
+the discovery of an order, a law of good taste; other creatures
+submissively fulfil the law of their nature.
+
+Now in France, says M. Sainte-Beuve, "the first consideration for us is
+not whether we are amused and pleased by a work of art or of mind, or
+is it whether we are touched by it. What we seek above all to learn is
+whether we were right in being amused with it, and in applauding it,
+and in being moved by it." A Frenchman has, to a considerable degree,
+what one may call a conscience in intellectual matters. Seeing this, we
+are on the road to see why the French have their Academy and we have
+nothing of the kind.
+
+What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of our nation?
+Our greatest admirers would not claim for us an open and clear mind,
+a quick and flexible intelligence. Rather would they allege as our
+chief spiritual characteristics energy and honesty--most important and
+fruitful qualities in the intellectual and spiritual, as in the moral
+sphere, for, of what we call genius, energy is the most essential
+part. Now, what that energy, which is the life of genius, above
+everything demands and insists upon, is freedom--entire independence of
+authority, prescription and routine, the fullest power to extend as
+it will. Therefore, a nation whose chief spiritual characteristic is
+energy will not be very apt to set up in intellectual matters a fixed
+standard, an authority like an academy. By this it certainly escapes
+real inconveniences and dangers, and it can, at the same time, reach
+undeniably splendid heights in poetry and science. We have Shakespeare,
+and we have Newton. In the intellectual sphere there can be no higher
+names.
+
+On the other hand, some of the requisites of intellectual work
+are specially the affair of quickness of mind and flexibility of
+intelligence. In prose literature they are of first-rate importance.
+These are elements that can, to a certain degree, be appropriated,
+while the free activity of genius cannot. Academies consecrate and
+maintain them, and therefore a nation with an eminent turn for them
+naturally establishes academies.
+
+
+_V.--Our Loss Through Provinciality_
+
+How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose! How much better do
+the productions of its spirit show in the qualities of genius than in
+the qualities of intelligence! But the question as to the utility of
+academies to the intellectual life of a nation is not settled when we
+say that we have never had an academy, yet we have, confessedly, a very
+great literature. It is by no means sure that either our literature
+or the general intellectual life of our nation has got already
+without academies all that academies can give. Our literature, in
+spite of the genius manifested in it, may fall short in form, method,
+precision, proportions, arrangement--all things where intelligence
+proper comes in. It may be weak in prose, full of haphazard, crudeness,
+provincialism, eccentricity, violence, blundering; and instead of
+always fixing our thoughts upon the points in which our literature is
+strong, we should, from time to time, fix them upon those in which
+it is weak. In France, the Academy serves as a sort of centre and
+rallying-point to educated opinion, and gives it a force which it has
+not got here. In the bulk of the intellectual work of a nation which
+has no centre, no intellectual metropolis like an academy, there is
+observable a note of provinciality. Great powers of mind will make a
+man think profoundly, but not even great powers of mind will keep his
+taste and style perfectly sound and sure if he is left too much to
+himself with no sovereign organ of opinion near him.
+
+Even men like Jeremy Taylor and Burke suffer here. Theirs is too often
+extravagant prose; prose too much suffered to indulge its caprices;
+prose at too great a distance from the centre of good taste; prose with
+the note of provinciality; Asiatic prose, somewhat barbarously rich and
+overloaded. The note of provinciality in Addison is to be found in the
+commonplace of his ideas, though his style is classical. Where there
+is no centre like an academy, if you have genius and powerful ideas,
+you are apt not to have the best style going; if you have precision of
+style and not genius, you are apt not to have the best ideas going.
+
+The provincial spirit exaggerates the value of its ideas for want of
+a high standard at hand by which to try them; it is hurried away by
+fancies; it likes and dislikes too passionately, too exclusively; its
+admiration weeps hysterical tears, and its disapprobation foams at the
+mouth. So we get the eruptive and aggressive manner in literature. Not
+having the lucidity of a large and centrally-placed intelligence, the
+provincial spirit has not its graciousness; it does not persuade, it
+makes war; it has not urbanity, the tone of the city, of the centre,
+the tone that always aims at a spiritual and intellectual effect. It
+loves hard-hitting rather than persuading. The newspaper, with its
+party spirit, its resolute avoidance of shades and distinctions, is
+its true literature. In England there needs a miracle of genius like
+Shakespeare to produce balance of mind, and a miracle of intellectual
+delicacy like Dr. Newman's to produce urbanity of style.
+
+The reader will ask for some practical conclusion about the
+establishment of an academy in this country, and perhaps I shall hardly
+give him the one he expects. Nations have their own modes of acting,
+and these modes are not easily changed; they are even consecrated when
+great things have been done in them. When a literature has produced
+a Shakespeare and a Milton, when it has even produced a Barrow and a
+Burke, it cannot well abandon its traditions; it can hardly begin at
+this late time of day with an institution like the French Academy. An
+academy quite like the French Academy, a sovereign organ of the highest
+literary opinion, a recognised authority in matters of intellectual
+tone and taste, we shall hardly have, and perhaps ought not to wish to
+have. But then every one amongst us with any turn for literature at all
+will do well to remember to what shortcomings and excesses, which such
+an academy tends to correct, we are liable, and the more liable, of
+course, for not having it. He will do well constantly to try himself in
+respect of these, steadily to widen his culture, and severely to check
+in himself the provincial spirit.
+
+
+_VI.--Some Illustrative Criticisms_
+
+To try and approach Truth on one side after another, not to strive or
+cry, not to persist in pressing forward on any one side with violence
+and self-will--it is only thus that mortals may hope to gain any vision
+of the mysterious goddess whom we shall never see except in outline.
+
+The grand power of poetry is the power of dealing with things so as to
+awaken in us a wonderfully full, new and intimate sense of them and
+of our relation with them, so that we feel ourselves to be in contact
+with the essential nature of those objects, to have their secret, and
+be in harmony with them, and this feeling calms and satisfies us as no
+other can. Maurice de Guerin manifested this magical power of poetry in
+singular eminence. His passion for perfection disdained all poetical
+work that was not perfectly adequate and felicitous.
+
+His sister Eugenie de Guerin has the same characteristic
+quality--distinction. Of this quality the world is impatient; it
+chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates it, but ends by
+receiving its influence and by undergoing its law. This quality at last
+inexorably corrects the world's blunders, and fixes the world's ideals.
+
+Heine claimed that he was "a brave soldier in the war of the liberation
+of humanity." That was his significance. He was, if not pre-eminently
+a brave, yet a brilliant soldier in the war of liberation of humanity.
+He was not an adequate interpreter of the modern world, but only a
+brilliant soldier.
+
+Born in 1754, and dying in 1824, Joseph Joubert chose to hide his life;
+but he was a man of extraordinary ardour in the search for truth and
+of extraordinary fineness in the perception of it. He was one of those
+wonderful lovers of light who, when they have an idea to put forth,
+brood long over it first, and wait patiently till it shines.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE BRANDES
+
+Main Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century
+
+  George Brandes was born in Copenhagen on February 4, 1842, and
+  was educated at the University of Copenhagen. The appearance
+  of his "AEsthetic Studies" in 1868 established his reputation
+  among men of letters of all lands. His criticism received a
+  philosophic bent from his study of John Stuart Mill, Comte, and
+  Renan. Complaint is often made of the bias exhibited by Brandes
+  in his works, which is somewhat of a blemish on the breadth
+  of his judgment. This bias finds its chief expression in his
+  anti-clericalism. His publications number thirty-three volumes,
+  and include works on history, literature, and criticism. He
+  has written studies of Shakespeare, of Lord Beaconsfield, of
+  Ibsen, and of Ferdinand Lassalle. His greatest work is the "Main
+  Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century." The field
+  covered is so vast that any attempted synopsis of the volume is
+  impossible here, so in this place we merely indicate the scope of
+  Brandes's monumental work, and state his general conclusions.
+
+
+_The Man and the Book_
+
+This remarkable essay in literary criticism is limited to the first
+half of the nineteenth century; it concludes with the historical
+turning-point of 1848. Within this period the author discovers, first,
+a reaction against the literature of the eighteenth century; and then,
+the vanquishment of that reaction. Or, in other words, there is first
+a fading away and disappearance of the ideas and feelings of the
+preceding century, and then a return of the ideas of progress in new
+and higher waves.
+
+"Literary history is, in its profoundest significance, psychology, the
+study, the history of the soul"; and literary criticism is, with our
+author, nothing less than the interior history of peoples. Whether we
+happen to agree or to disagree with his personal sympathies, which
+lie altogether with liberalism and whether his interpretation of these
+complex movements be accepted or rejected by future criticism, it is at
+least unquestionable that his estimate of his science is the right one,
+and that his method is the right one, and that no one stands beside
+Brandes as an exponent.
+
+The historical movement of the years 1800 to 1848 is here likened to a
+drama, of which six different literary groups represent the six acts.
+The first three acts incorporate the reaction against progress and
+liberty. They are, first, the French Emigrant Literature, inspired
+by Rousseau; secondly, the semi-Catholic Romantic school of Germany,
+wherein the reaction has separated itself more thoroughly from the
+contemporary struggle for liberty, and has gained considerably in
+depth and vigour; and, thirdly, the militant and triumphant reaction
+as shown in Joseph de Maistre, Lamennais, Lamartine and Victor Hugo,
+standing out for pope and monarch. The drama of reaction has here come
+to its climax; and the last three acts are to witness its fall, and the
+revival, in its place, of the ideas of liberty and of progress.
+
+"It is one man, Byron, who produces the revulsion in the great drama."
+And Byron and his English contemporaries, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott,
+Keats and Shelley, hold the stage in the fourth act, "Naturalism in
+England." The fifth act belongs to the Liberal movement in France, the
+"French Romantic School," including the names of Lamennais, Lamartine
+and Hugo in their second phase; and also those of De Musset and George
+Sand. The movement passes from France into "Young Germany," where the
+sixth act is played by Heine, Ruge, Feuerbach and others; and the
+ardent revolutionary writers of France and of Germany together prepare
+for the great political transformation of 1848.
+
+
+_I.--The Emigrant Literature_
+
+At the beginning of our period, France was subjected to two successive
+tyrannies: those, namely, of the Convention and of the Empire, both of
+which suppressed all independent thought and literature. Writers were,
+perforce, emigrants beyond the frontiers of French power, and were, one
+and all, in opposition to the Reign of Terror, or to the Napoleonic
+tyranny, or to both; one and all they were looking forward to the new
+age which should come.
+
+There was, therefore, a note of expectancy in this emigrant literature,
+which had also the advantage of real knowledge, gained in long exile,
+of foreign lands and peoples. Although it reacts against the dry and
+narrow rationalism of the eighteenth century, it is not as yet a
+complete reaction against the Liberalism of that period; the writers
+of the emigrant group are still ardent in the cause of Liberty. They
+are contrary to the spirit of Voltaire; but they are all profoundly
+influenced by Rousseau.
+
+Chateaubriand's romances, "Atala" and "Rene," Rousseau's "The New
+Heloise" and Goethe's "Werther" are the subjects of studies which lead
+our critic to a consideration of that new spiritual condition of which
+they are the indications. "All the spiritual maladies," he says, "which
+make their appearance at this time may be regarded as the products
+of two great events--the emancipation of the individual and the
+emancipation of thought."
+
+Every career now lies open, potentially, to the individual. His
+opportunities, and therefore his desires, but not his powers, have
+become boundless; and "inordinate desire is always accompanied by
+inordinate melancholy." His release from the old order, which limited
+his importance, has set him free for self-idolatry; the old laws
+have broken down, and everything now seems permissible. He no longer
+feels himself part of a whole; he feels himself to be a little world
+which reflects the great world. The belief in the saving power of
+enlightenment had been rudely shaken, and the minds of men were
+confused like an army which receives contradictory orders in the midst
+of a battle. Senancour, Nodier and Benjamin Constant have left us
+striking romances picturing the human spirit in this dilemma; they show
+also a new feeling for Nature, new revelations of subjectivity, and new
+ideas of womanhood and of passion.
+
+But of the emigrant literature Madame de Stael is the chief and
+central figure. The lawless savagery of the Revolution did not weaken
+her fidelity to personal and political freedom. "She wages war with
+absolutism in the state and hypocrisy in society. She teaches her
+countrymen to appreciate the characteristics and literature of the
+neighbouring nations; she breaks down with her own hands the wall of
+self-sufficiency with which victorious France had surrounded itself.
+Barante, with his perspective view of eighteenth-century France, only
+continues and completes her work."
+
+
+_II.--The Romantic School in Germany_
+
+German Romanticism continues the growing reaction against the
+eighteenth century; yet, though it is essentially reaction, it is not
+mere reaction, but contains the seeds of a new development. It is
+intellectual, poetical, philosophical and full of real life.
+
+This literary period, marked by the names of Hoelderlin, A. W. Schlegel,
+Tieck, Jean Paul Richter, Schleiermacher, Wackenroder, Novalis, Arnim,
+Brentano, resulted in little that has endured. It produced no typical
+forms; the character of its literature is musical rather than plastic;
+its impulse is not a clear perception or creation, but an infinite and
+ineffable aspiration.
+
+An intenser spiritual life was at once the impulse and the goal of
+the Romanticists, in whom wonder and infinite desire are born again.
+A sympathetic interest in the fairy tale and the legend, in the face
+of Nature and in her creatures, in history, institutions and law, and
+a keener emotional sensitiveness in poetry, were the result of this
+refreshed interior life. In religion, the movement was towards the
+richly-coloured mystery and child-like faith of Catholicism; and in
+respect of human love it was towards freedom, spontaneity, intensity,
+and against the hard bonds of social conventions.
+
+But its emotions became increasingly morbid, abnormal and ineffectual.
+Romanticism tended really, not to the spiritual emancipation that was
+its avowed aim, but to a refinement of sensuality; an indolent and
+passive enjoyment is its actual goal; and it repudiates industry and
+utility as the philistine barriers which exclude us from Paradise.
+Retrogression, the going back to a fancied Paradise or Golden Age, is
+the central idea of Romanticism, and is the secret of the practical
+ineffectiveness of the movement.
+
+Friedrich Schlegel's romance, "Lucinde," is a very typical work of
+this period. It is based on the Romantic idea that life and poetry are
+identical, and its aim is to counsel the transformation of our actual
+life into a poem or work of art. It is a manifesto of self-absorption
+and of subjectivity; the reasoned defence of idleness, of enjoyment, of
+lawlessness, of the arbitrary expression of the Self, supreme above all.
+
+The mysticism of Novalis, who preferred sickness to health, night to
+day, and invested death itself with sensual delights, is described by
+himself as voluptuousness. It is full of a feverish, morbid desire,
+which becomes at last the desire for nothingness. The "blue flower," in
+his story "Heinrich von Ofterdingen," is the ideal, personal happiness,
+sought for in all Romanticism, but by its very nature never attainable.
+
+
+_III.--The Reaction in France_
+
+Herein we have the culmination of the reactionary movement. Certain
+authors are grouped together as labouring for the re-establishment of
+the fallen power of authority; and by the principle of authority is to
+be understood "the principle which assumes the life of the individual
+and of the nation to be based upon reverence for inherited tradition."
+Further, "the principle of authority in general stood or fell with the
+authority of the Church. When that was undermined, it drew all other
+authorities with it in its fall."
+
+After a study of the Revolution in its quality as a religious movement,
+and the story of the Concordat, our author traces the genesis of
+this extreme phase of the reaction. Its promoters were all of noble
+birth and bound by close ties to the old royal families; their aim
+was political rather than religious; "they craved for religion as
+a panacea for lawlessness." Their ruling idea was the principle of
+externality, as opposed to that of inward, personal feeling and private
+investigation; it was the principle of theocracy, as opposed to the
+sovereignty of the people; it was the principle of power, as opposed to
+the principles of human rights and liberties.
+
+Chateaubriand's famous book, "Le Genie du Christianisme," devoid of
+real feeling, attempts to vindicate authority by means of an appeal
+to sentiment, as if taking for granted that a reasoned faith was now
+impossible. His point of view is romantic, and therefore, religiously,
+false; his reasoning is of the "how beautiful!" style.
+
+But the principle was enthroned by Count Joseph de Maistre, a very
+different man. The minister of the King of Sardinia at the court
+of Russia, he gained the emperor's confidence by his strong and
+pure character, his royalist principles, and his talents. His more
+important works, "Du Pape," "De l'Eglise Gallicane," and "Soirees de
+St. Petersbourg," are the most uncompromising defence of political
+and religious autocracy. The fundamental idea of his works is that
+"there is no human society without government, no government without
+sovereignty, and no sovereignty without infallibility." Beside De
+Maistre stands Bonald, a man of the same views, but without the other's
+daring and versatile wit. Chateaubriand's prose epic "Les Martyrs," the
+mystically sensual writings of Madame Kruedener, and the lyric poetry
+of Lamartine and Victor Hugo further popularised the reaction, which
+reached its breaking point in Lamennais.
+
+It was at this moment, April, 1824, that the news came of Byron's death
+in Greece. The illusion dissolved; the reaction came to an end. The
+principle of authority fell, never to rise again; and the Immanuelistic
+school was succeeded by the Satanic.
+
+
+_IV.--Naturalism in England_
+
+The distinguishing character which our author discovers in the English
+poets is a love of Nature, of the country and the sea, of domestic
+animals and vegetation. This Naturalism, common to Wordsworth,
+Coleridge, Scott, Keats, Moore, Shelley and Byron, becomes, when
+transferred to social interests, revolutionary; the English poet is
+a Radical. Literary questions interest him not; he is at heart a
+politician.
+
+The political background of English intellectual life at this period
+is painted forcibly and in the darkest tones. It was "dark with
+terror produced in the middle classes by the excesses of the liberty
+movement in France, dark with the tyrannic lusts of proud Tories and
+the Church's oppressions, dark with the spilt blood of Irish Catholics
+and English artisans." In the midst of all this misery, Wordsworth and
+Coleridge recalled the English mind to the love of real Nature and to
+the love of liberty. Wordsworth's conviction was that in town life
+and its distractions men had forgotten Nature, and had been punished
+for it; constant social intercourse had dissipated their talents and
+impaired their susceptibility to simple and pure impressions. His
+naturalism is antagonistic to all official creeds; it is akin to the
+old Greek conception of Nature, and is impregnated with pantheism.
+
+The separate studies which follow, dealing with the natural Romanticism
+of Coleridge, Southey's Oriental Romanticism, the Lake school's
+conception of Liberty, the Historic Naturalism of Scott, the sensuous
+poetry of Keats, the poetry of Irish opposition and revolt, Thomas
+Campbell's poetry of freedom, the Republican Humanism of Landor,
+Shelley's Radical Naturalism, and like subjects, are of the highest
+importance to every English reader who would understand the time in
+which he lives. But Byron's is the heroic figure in this act. "Byron's
+genius takes possession of him, and makes him great and victorious in
+his argument, directing his aim with absolute certainty to the vital
+points." Byron's whole being burned with the profoundest compassion
+for the immeasurable sufferings of humanity. It was liberty that he
+worshipped, and he died for liberty.
+
+
+_V.--The Romantic School in France_
+
+During the Revolution the national property had been divided into
+twenty times as many hands as before, and with the fall of Napoleon
+the industrial period begins. All restrictions had been removed
+from industry and commerce, and capital became the moving power of
+society and the object of individual desires. The pursuit of money
+helps to give to the literature of the day its romantic, idealistic
+stamp. Balzac alone, however, made money the hero of his epic. Other
+great writers of the period, Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, George
+Sand, Beyle, Merimee, Theophile Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, kept as far as
+possible from the new reality.
+
+The young Romanticists of 1830 burned with a passion for art and a
+detestation of drab bourgeoisie. A break with tradition was demanded
+in all the arts; the original, the unconscious, the popular, were what
+they aimed at. It was now, as in Hugo's dramas, that the passionate
+plebeian appeared on the scene as hero; Merimee, as in "Carmen,"
+painted savage emotions; Nodier's children spoke like real children;
+George Sand depicted, in woman, not conscious virtue and vice, but the
+innate nobility and natural goodness of a noble woman's heart. The poet
+was no longer looked on as a courtier, but as the despised high-priest
+of humanity.
+
+The French Romantic school is the greatest literary school of the
+nineteenth century. It displayed three main tendencies--the endeavour
+to reproduce faithfully some real piece of past history or some phase
+of modern life; the endeavour after perfection of form; and enthusiasm
+for great religious or social reformatory ideas. These three tendencies
+are traced out in the ideals and work of the brilliant authors of the
+period; in George Sand, for instance, who proclaimed that the mission
+of art is a mission of sentiment and love; and in Balzac, who views
+society as the scientist investigates Nature--"he never moralises and
+condemns; he never allows himself to be led by disgust or enthusiasm to
+describe otherwise than truthfully; nothing is too small, nothing is
+too great to be examined and explained."
+
+The impressions which our author gives of Sainte-Beuve, Gautier,
+George Sand, Balzac and Merimee are vivid and concrete; they are high
+achievements in literary portraiture, set in a real historic background.
+
+
+_VI.--Young Germany_
+
+The personality, writings, and actions of Byron had an extraordinary
+influence upon "Young Germany," a movement initiated by Heine and
+Boerne, and characterised by a strong craving for liberty. "Byron,
+with his contempt for the real negation of liberty that lay concealed
+beneath the 'wars of liberty' against Napoleon, with his championship
+of the oppressed, his revolt against social custom, his sensuality and
+spleen, his passionate love of liberty in every domain, seemed to the
+men of that day to be an embodiment of all that they understood by the
+modern spirit, modern poetry."
+
+The literary group known as Young Germany has no creative minds of the
+highest, and only one of very high rank, namely, Heine. "It denied, it
+emancipated, it cleared up, it let in fresh air. It is strong through
+its doubt, its hatred of thraldom, its individualism." The Germany of
+those days has been succeeded by a quite new Germany, organised to
+build up and to put forth material strength, and the writers of the
+first half of the nineteenth century, who were always praising France
+and condemning the sluggishness of their own country, are but little
+read.
+
+The literary figures of this period who are painted by our author, are
+Boerne, Heine, Immermann, Menzel, Gutzkow, Laube, Mundt, Rahel Varnhagen
+von Ense, Bettina von Arnim, Charlotte Stieglitz, and many others, to
+whose writings, in conjunction with those of the French Romanticists,
+Brandes ascribes the general revolt of the oppressed peoples of Europe
+in 1848. Of the men of that date he says: "They had a faith that could
+remove mountains, and a hope that could shake the earth. Liberty,
+parliament, national unity, liberty of the Press, republic, were to
+them magic words, at the very sound of which their hearts leaped like
+the heart of a youth who suddenly sees his beloved."
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT BURTON
+
+The Anatomy of Melancholy
+
+  Robert Burton was born on February 8, 1576, of an old family, at
+  Lindley, Leicestershire, England; was educated at the free school
+  of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, and at Brasenose College,
+  Oxford, and in 1599 was elected student of Christ Church. In
+  1616 he was presented with the vicarage of St. Thomas, Oxford,
+  and in 1636 with the rectory of Segrave, in Leicestershire, and
+  kept both these livings until his death. But he lived chiefly
+  in his rooms at Christ Church, Oxford, where, burrowing in the
+  treasures of the Bodleian Library, he elaborated his learned
+  and whimsical book. He died on January 25, 1639, and was buried
+  in Christ Church Cathedral. The "Anatomy of Melancholy" is
+  an enormous compendium of sound sense, sly humour, universal
+  erudition, mediaeval science, fantastic conceits, and noble
+  sentiments, arranged in the form of a most methodical treatise,
+  divided, and subdivided again, into sections dealing with every
+  conceivable aspect of this fell disorder. It is an intricate
+  tissue of quotations and allusions, and its interest lies as
+  much in its texture as in its argument. The "Anatomy" consists
+  of an introduction, "Democritus Junior to the Reader," and
+  then of three "Partitions," of which the first treats of the
+  Causes of Melancholy, the second of its Cure, and the third
+  of Love-Melancholy, wherewith is included the Melancholy of
+  Superstition.
+
+
+_I.--Democritus Junior to the Reader_
+
+Gentle reader, I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive to know what
+antic or personate actor this is that so insolently intrudes upon this
+common theatre to the world's view, arrogating another man's name;
+whence he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say. Seek not after
+that which is hid; if the contents please thee, suppose the man in the
+moon, or whom thou wilt, to be the author; I would not willingly be
+known.
+
+I have masked myself under this visard because, like Democritus,
+I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life in the
+university, penned up most part in my study. Though by my profession
+a divine, yet, out of a running wit, an unconstant, unsettled mind, I
+had a great desire to have some smattering in all subjects; which Plato
+commends as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a slave
+of one science, as most do, but to rove abroad, to have an oar in every
+man's boat, to taste of every dish, and to sip of every cup; which,
+saith Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle.
+
+I have little, I want nothing; all my treasure is in Minerva's tower.
+Though I lead a monastic life, myself my own theatre, I hear and see
+what is done abroad, how others run, ride, turmoil, in court and
+country. Amid the gallantry and misery of the world, jollity, pride,
+perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy, subtlety, knavery,
+candour, and integrity, I rub on in private, left to a solitary life
+and mine own domestic discontents.
+
+So I call myself Democritus, to assume a little more liberty of speech,
+or, if you will needs know, for that reason which Hippocrates relates,
+how, coming to visit him one day, he found Democritus in his garden
+at Abdera, under a shady bower, with a book on his knees, busy at
+his study, sometimes writing, sometimes walking. The subject of his
+book was melancholy and madness. About him lay the carcasses of many
+several beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomised; not that he did
+contemn God's creatures, but to find out the seat of this black bile,
+or melancholy, and how it is engendered in men's bodies, to the intent
+he might better cure it in himself, and by his writings teach others
+how to avoid it; which good intent of his Democritus Junior is bold to
+imitate, and because he left it imperfect and it is now lost, to revive
+again, prosecute, and finish in this treatise. I seek not applause; I
+fear good men's censures, and to their favourable acceptance I submit
+my labours. But as the barking of a dog I contemn those malicious and
+scurrile obloquies, flouts, calumnies of railers and detractors.
+
+Of the necessity of what I have said, if any man doubt of it, I shall
+desire him to make a brief survey of the world, as Cyprian adviseth
+Donate; supposing himself to be transported to the top of some high
+mountain, and thence to behold the tumults and chances of this wavering
+world, he cannot choose but either laugh at, or pity it. St. Hierom,
+out of a strong imagination, being in the wilderness, conceived that he
+saw them dancing in Rome; and if thou shalt climb to see, thou shalt
+soon perceive that all the world is mad, that it is melancholy, dotes;
+that it is a common prison of gulls, cheats, flatterers, etc., and
+needs to be reformed. Kingdoms and provinces are melancholy; cities
+and families, all creatures vegetal, sensible and rational, all sorts,
+sects, ages, conditions, are out of tune; from the highest to the
+lowest have need of physic. Who is not brain-sick? Oh, giddy-headed
+age! Mad endeavours! Mad actions!
+
+If Democritus were alive now, and should but see the superstition of
+our age, our religious madness, so many professed Christians, yet so
+few imitators of Christ, so much talk and so little conscience, so many
+preachers and such little practice, such variety of sects--how dost
+thou think he might have been affected? What would he have said to see,
+hear, and read so many bloody battles, such streams of blood able to
+turn mills, to make sport for princes, without any just cause? Men well
+proportioned, carefully brought up, able in body and mind, led like
+so many beasts to the slaughter in the flower of their years, without
+remorse and pity, killed for devils' food, 40,000 at once! At once?
+That were tolerable; but these wars last always; and for many ages,
+nothing so familiar as this hacking and hewing, massacres, murders,
+desolations! Who made creatures, so peaceable, born to love, mercy,
+meekness, so to rave like beasts and run to their own destruction?
+
+How would our Democritus have been affected to see so many lawyers,
+advocates, so many tribunals, so little justice; so many laws, yet
+never more disorders; the tribunal a labyrinth; to see a lamb executed,
+a wolf pronounce sentence? What's the market but a place wherein they
+cozen one another, a trap? Nay, what's the world itself but a vast
+chaos, a theatre of hypocrisy, a shop of knavery, a scene of babbling,
+the academy of vice? A warfare, in which you must kill or be killed,
+wherein every man is for himself; no charity, love, friendship, fear of
+God, alliance, affinity, consanguinity, can contain them. Our goddess
+is Queen Money, to whom we daily offer sacrifice. It's not worth,
+virtue, wisdom, valour, learning, honesty, religion, for which we are
+respected, but money, greatness, office, honour. All these things are
+easy to be discerned, but how would Democritus have been moved had he
+seen the secrets of our hearts! All the world is mad, and every member
+of it, and I can but wish myself and them a good physician, and all of
+us a better mind.
+
+
+_II.--The Causes of Melancholy_
+
+The impulsive cause of these miseries in man was the sin of our first
+parent, Adam; and this, belike, is that which our poets have shadowed
+unto us in the tale of Pandora's Box, which, being opened through
+her curiosity, filled the world full of all manner of diseases. But
+as our sins are the principal cause, so the instrumental causes of
+our infirmities are as diverse as the infirmities themselves. Stars,
+heavens, elements, and all those creatures which God hath made, are
+armed against sinners. But the greatest enemy to man is man, his own
+executioner, a wolf, a devil to himself and others. Again, no man
+amongst us so sound that hath not some impediment of body or mind.
+There are diseases acute and chronic, first and secondary, lethal,
+salutary, errant, fixed, simple, compound, etc. Melancholy is the most
+eminent of the diseases of the phantasy or imagination; and dotage,
+phrensy, madness, hydrophobia, lycanthropy, St. Vitus' dance, and
+ecstasy are forms of it.
+
+Melancholy is either in disposition or habit. In disposition it is that
+transitory melancholy which comes and goes upon every small occasion
+of sorrow; we call him melancholy that is dull, sad, sour, lumpish,
+ill-disposed, and solitary; and from these dispositions no man living
+is free; none so wise, patient, happy, generous, or godly, that can
+vindicate himself.
+
+Melancholy is a cold and dry, thick, black, and sour humour, purged
+from the spleen; it is a bridle to the other two hot humours, blood and
+choler, preserving them in the blood and nourishing the bones. Such as
+have the Moon, Saturn, Mercury, misaffected in their genitures; such as
+live in over-cold or over-hot climates; such as are solitary by nature;
+great students, given to much contemplation; such as lead a life out of
+action; all are most subject to melancholy.
+
+Six things are much spoken of amongst physicians as principal causes
+of this disease; if a man be melancholy, he hath offended in one of
+the six. They are diet, air, exercise, sleeping, and walking, and
+perturbations of the mind.
+
+Idleness, the badge of gentry, or want of exercise, the bane of body
+and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief author of all mischief,
+one of the seven deadly sins, and a sole cause of this and many other
+maladies, the devil's cushion and chief reposal, begets melancholy
+sooner than anything else. Such as live at ease, and have no ordinary
+employment to busy themselves about, cannot compose themselves to do
+aught; they cannot abide work, though it be necessary, easy, as to
+dress themselves, write a letter, or the like. He or she that is idle,
+be they never so rich, fortunate, happy, let them have all that heart
+can desire, they shall never be pleased, never well in body and mind,
+but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping,
+sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every
+object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away with some
+foolish phantasy or other.
+
+Others, giving way to the passions and perturbations of fear, grief,
+shame, revenge, hatred, malice, etc., are torn in pieces, as Actaeon was
+with his dogs, and crucify their own souls. Every society and private
+family is full of envy; it takes hold of all sorts of men, from prince
+to ploughman; scarce three in a company, but there is siding, faction,
+emulation, between two of them, some jar, private grudge, heart-burning
+in the midst. Scarce two great scholars in an age, but with bitter
+invectives they fall foul one on the other. Being that we are so
+peevish and perverse, insolent and proud, so factious and seditious,
+malicious and envious, we do maul and vex one another, torture,
+disquiet, and precipitate ourselves into that gulf of woes and cares,
+aggravate our misery and melancholy, and heap upon us hell and eternal
+damnation.
+
+
+_III.--The Cure of Melancholy_
+
+"It matters not," saith Paracelsus, "whether it be God or the devil,
+angels or unclean spirits, cure him, so that he be eased." Some have
+recourse to witches; but much better were it for patients that are
+troubled with melancholy to endure a little misery in this life than
+to hazard their souls' health for ever. All unlawful cures are to be
+refused, and it remains to treat of those that are admitted.
+
+These are such as God hath appointed, by virtue of stones, herbs,
+plants, meats, and the like, which are prepared and applied to our use
+by the art and industry of physicians, God's intermediate ministers.
+We must begin with prayer and then use physic; not one without the
+other, but both together.
+
+Diet must be rectified in substance and in quantity; air rectified;
+for there is much in choice of place and of chamber, in opportune
+opening and shutting of windows, and in walking abroad at convenient
+times. Exercise must be rectified of body and mind. Hawking, hunting,
+fishing are good, especially the last, which is still and quiet, and
+if so be the angler catch no fish, yet he hath a wholesome walk and
+pleasant shade by the sweet silver streams. But the most pleasant of
+all pastimes is to make a merry journey now and then with some good
+companions, to visit friends, see cities, castles, towns, to walk
+amongst orchards, gardens, bowers, to disport in some pleasant plain.
+St. Bernard, in the description of his monastery, is almost ravished
+with the pleasures of it. "Good God," saith he, "what a company of
+pleasures hast Thou made for man!" But what is so fit and proper to
+expel idleness and melancholy as study? What so full of content as
+to read, and see maps, pictures, statues, jewels, and marbles, so
+exquisite to be beheld that, as Chrysostom thinketh, "if any man be
+sickly or troubled in mind, and shall but stand over against one of
+Phidias's images, he will forget all care in an instant?"
+
+If thou receivest wrong, compose thyself with patience to bear it.
+Thou shalt find greatest ease to be quiet. I say the same of scoffs,
+slanders, detractions, which tend to our disgrace; 'tis but opinion;
+if we would neglect or contemn them, they would reflect disgrace on
+them that offered them. "Yea, but I am ashamed, disgraced, degraded,
+exploded; my notorious crimes and villainies are come to light!" Be
+content; 'tis but a nine days' wonder; 'tis heavy, ghastly, fearful
+news at first, but thine offence will be forgotten in an instant. Thou
+art not the first offender, nor shalt thou be the last. If he alone
+should accuse thee that were faultless, how many executioners, how
+many accusers, would thou have? Shall every man have his desert, thou
+wouldst peradventure be a saint in comparison. Be not dismayed; it is
+human to err. Be penitent, ask forgiveness, and vex thyself no more.
+Doth the moon care for the barking of a dog?
+
+
+_IV.--Love-Melancholy_
+
+There will not be wanting those who will much discommend this treatise
+of love-melancholy, and object that it is too light for a divine,
+too phantastical, and fit only for a wanton poet. So that they may
+be admired for grave philosophers, and staid carriage, they cannot
+abide to hear talk of love-toys; in all their outward actions they are
+averse; and yet, in their cogitations, they are all but as bad, if not
+worse than others. I am almost afraid to relate the passions which this
+tyrant love causeth among men; it hath wrought such stupendous and
+prodigious effects, such foul offences.
+
+As there be divers causes of this heroical love, so there be many good
+remedies, among which good counsel and persuasion are of great moment,
+especially if it proceed from a wise, fatherly, discreet person. They
+will lament and howl for a while; but let him proceed, by foreshewing
+the miserable dangers that will surely happen, the pains of hell, joys
+of paradise, and the like; and this is a very good means, for love is
+learned of itself, but hardly left without a tutor.
+
+In sober sadness, marriage is a bondage, a thraldom, a hindrance to all
+good enterprises; "he hath married a wife, and therefore cannot come";
+a rock on which many are saved, many are cast away. Not that the thing
+is evil in itself, or troublesome, but full of happiness, and a thing
+which pleases God; but to indiscreet, sensual persons, it is a feral
+plague, many times an hell itself. If thy wife be froward, all is in
+an uproar; if wise and learned, she will be insolent and peevish; if
+poor, she brings beggary; if young, she is wanton and untaught. Say
+the best, she is a commanding servant; thou hadst better have taken a
+good housewifely maid in her smock. Since, then, there is such hazard,
+keep thyself as thou art; 'tis good to match, much better to be free.
+Consider withal how free, how happy, how secure, how heavenly, in
+respect, a single man is.
+
+But when all is said, since some be good, some bad, let's put it to the
+venture. Marry while thou mayest, and take thy fortune as it falls.
+Be not so covetous, so distrustful, so curious and nice, but let's
+all marry; to-morrow is St. Valentine's Day. Since, then, marriage
+is the last and best cure of heroical love, all doubts are cured and
+impediments removed; God send us all good wives!
+
+Take this for a corollory and conclusion; as thou tenderest thine own
+welfare in love-melancholy, in the melancholy of religion, and in all
+other melancholy; observe this short precept--Be not solitary; be not
+idle.
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS CARLYLE
+
+On Heroes and Hero-Worship
+
+  This is the last of four series of lectures which Carlyle (see
+  Vol. IX, p. 99) delivered in London in successive years, and is
+  the only series which was published. The "Lectures on Heroes"
+  were given in May, 1840, and were published, with emendations
+  and additions, from the reporter's notes in 1841. The preceding
+  series were on "German Literature," 1837; "The Successive Periods
+  of European Culture," 1838; and "The Revolutions of Modern
+  Europe," 1839. Carlyle's profound and impassioned belief in the
+  quasi-divine inspiration of great men, in the authoritative
+  nature of their "message," and in their historical effectiveness,
+  was a reaction against a way of writing history which finds the
+  origin of events in "movements," "currents," and "tendencies"
+  neglecting or minimising the power of personality. For Carlyle,
+  biography was the essential element in history; his view of
+  events was the dramatic view, as opposed to the scientific
+  view. It is idle to inquire which is the better or truer view,
+  where both are necessary. But Carlyle is here specially tilting
+  against a prejudice which has so utterly passed away that it
+  is difficult even to imagine it. This was to the effect that
+  eminent historical figures have been in some sense impostors.
+  This work suffers a good deal from its origin, but, like others
+  of Carlyle's writings, it has had great effect in discrediting a
+  barren and flippant rationalism.
+
+
+_I.--The Hero as Divinity_
+
+We have undertaken to discourse on great men, their manner of
+appearance in our world's business, how they shaped themselves in the
+world's history, what ideas men formed of them, and what work they did.
+We are to treat of hero-worship and the heroic in human affairs. The
+topic is as wide as universal history itself, for the history of what
+man has accomplished in this world is, at bottom, the history of the
+great men who have worked here.
+
+It is well said that a man's religion is the chief fact with regard to
+him. I do not mean the Church creed which he professes, but the thing
+that he does practically believe, the manner in which he feels himself
+to be spiritually related to the unseen world. Was it heathenism, a
+plurality of gods, a mere sensuous representation of the mystery of
+life, and for chief recognised element therein physical force? Was it
+Christianism; faith in an Invisible as the only reality; time ever
+resting on eternity; pagan empire of force displaced by the nobler
+supremacy of holiness? Was it scepticism, uncertainty, and inquiry
+whether there was an unseen world at all, or perhaps unbelief and flat
+denial? The answer to these questions gives us the soul of the history
+of the man or nation.
+
+Odin, the central figure of Scandinavian paganism, shall be our emblem
+of the hero as divinity. And in the first place I protest against the
+theory that this paganism or any other religion has consisted of mere
+quackery, priestcraft, and dupery. Quackery gives birth to nothing;
+gives death to all. Man everywhere is the born enemy of lies, and
+paganism, to its followers, was at one time earnestly true. Nor can
+we admit that other theory, which attributed these mythologies to
+allegory, or to the play of poetic minds. Pagan religion, like every
+other, is indeed a symbol of what men felt about the universe, but a
+practical guiding knowledge of this mysterious life of theirs, and not
+a perfect poetic symbol of it, has been the want of men. The "Pilgrim's
+Progress" is a just and beautiful allegory, but it could never have
+preceded the faith which it symbolises. Men never risked their soul's
+life on allegories; there was a kind of fact at the heart of paganism.
+
+To the primitive pagan thinker, who was simple as a child, yet had
+a man's depth and strength, nature had as yet no name. It stood
+naked, flashing in on him, beautiful, awful, unspeakable; nature was
+preternatural. The world, which is now divine only to the gifted, was
+then divine to whosoever would turn his eye upon it. Still more was the
+body of man, and the mystery of his consciousness, an emblem to them of
+God, and truly worshipful.
+
+How much more, then, was the worship of a hero reasonable--the
+transcendent admiration of a great man! For great men are still
+admirable. At bottom there is nothing else admirable. Admiration for
+one higher than himself is to this hour the vivifying influence in
+man's life, and is the germ of Christianity itself. The greatest of all
+heroes is One whom we do not name here.
+
+Without doubt there was a first teacher and captain of these northern
+peoples, an Odin palpable to the sense, a real hero of flesh and blood.
+Tradition calls him inventor of the Runes, or Scandinavian alphabet,
+and again of poetry. To the wild Norse souls this noble-hearted man was
+hero, prophet, god. That the man Odin, speaking with a hero's voice and
+heart, as with an impressiveness out of Heaven, told his people the
+infinite importance of valour, how man thereby became a god; and that
+his people believed this message of his, and thought it a message out
+of Heaven, and believed him a divinity for telling it to them--this
+seems to me the primary seed-grain of the Norse religion. For that
+religion was a sternly impressive consecration of valour.
+
+
+_II.--The Hero as Prophet_
+
+We turn now to Mohammedanism among the Arabs for the second phase of
+hero-worship, wherein the hero is not now regarded as a god, but as
+one God-inspired, a prophet. Mohammed is not the most eminent prophet,
+but is the one of whom we are freest to speak. Nor is he the truest of
+prophets but I do esteem him a true one. Let us try to understand what
+he meant with the world; what the world meant and means with him will
+then be more answerable.
+
+Certainly he was no scheming impostor, no falsehood incarnate; theories
+of that kind are the product of an age of scepticism, and indicate the
+saddest spiritual paralysis. A false man found a religion? Why, a false
+man cannot build a brick house! No Mirabeau, Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell,
+no man adequate to do anything, but is first of all in right earnest
+about it. Sincerity is the great characteristic of all men in any way
+heroic.
+
+The Arabs are a notable people; their country itself is notable.
+Consider that wide, waste horizon of sand, empty, silent like a sea;
+you are all alone there, left alone with the universe; by day a fierce
+sun blazing down with intolerable radiance; by night the great deep
+heaven, with its stars--a fit country for a swift-handed, deep-hearted
+race of men. The Arab character is agile, active, yet most meditative,
+enthusiastic. Hospitable, taciturn, earnest, truthful, deeply
+religious, the Arabs were a people of great qualities, waiting for the
+day when they should become notable to all the world.
+
+Here, in the year 570 of our era, the man Mohammed was born, and grew
+up in the bosom of the wilderness, alone with Nature and his own
+thoughts. From an early age he had been remarked as a thoughtful man,
+and his companions named him "The Faithful." He was forty before he
+talked of any mission from Heaven. All this time living a peaceful
+life, he was looking through the shows of things into things themselves.
+
+Then, having withdrawn to a cavern near Mecca for a month of prayer and
+meditation, he told his wife Kadijah that, by the unspeakable favour of
+Heaven, he was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all. That
+all these idols and formulas were nothing; that there was one God in
+and over all; that God is great and is the reality. _Allah akbar_,
+"God is great"; and then _Islam_, "we must submit to Him."
+
+This is yet the only true morality known. A man is right and
+invincible, while he joins himself to the great deep law of the
+world, in spite of all superficial laws, temporary appearances,
+profit-and-loss calculations. This is the soul of Islam, and is
+properly also the soul of Christianity. We are to receive whatever
+befalls us as sent from God above. Islam means in its way the denial
+of self, annihilation of self. This is yet the highest wisdom that
+Heaven has revealed to our earth. In Mohammed, and in his Koran, I
+find first of all sincerity, the total freedom from cant. For these
+twelve centuries his religion has been the guidance of a fifth part of
+mankind, and, above all, it has been a religion heartily believed.
+
+The Arab nation was a poor shepherd people; a hero-prophet was sent
+down to them; within one century afterwards Arabia is at Grenada on
+this hand, at Delhi on that!
+
+
+_III.--The Hero as Poet_
+
+The hero as divinity and as prophet are productions of old ages, not
+to be repeated in the new. We are now to see our hero in the less
+ambitious, but also less questionable, character of poet. For the hero
+can be poet, prophet, king, priest, or what you will, according to the
+kind of world he finds himself born into. I have no notion of a truly
+great man that could not be all sorts of men.
+
+Indeed, the poet and prophet, participators in the open secret of the
+universe, are one; though the prophet has seized the sacred mystery
+rather on its moral side, and the poet on the aesthetic side. Poetry is
+essentially a song; its thoughts are musical not in word only, but in
+heart and in substance.
+
+Shakespeare and Dante are our two canonised poets; they dwell
+apart, none equal, none second to them. Dante's book was written, in
+banishment, with his heart's blood. His great soul, homeless on earth,
+made its home more and more in that awful other world. The three
+kingdoms--_Inferno_, _Purgatorio_, _Paradiso_--are like compartments of
+a great supernatural world-cathedral, piled up there, stern, solemn,
+awful; Dante's world of souls. It is the sincerest of all poems.
+Sincerity here, too, we find to be the measure of worth. Intensity is
+the prevailing character of his genius; his greatness lies in fiery
+emphasis and depth; it is seen even in the graphic vividness of his
+painting. Dante burns as a pure star, fixed in the firmament, at which
+the great and high of all ages kindle themselves.
+
+As Dante embodies musically the inner life of the Middle Ages, so
+Shakespeare embodies for us its outer life, its chivalries, courtesies,
+humours, ambitions. Dante gave us the soul of Europe; Shakespeare gave
+us its body. Of this Shakespeare of ours, the best judgment of Europe
+is slowly pointing to the conclusion that he is the chief of all poets,
+the greatest intellect who has left record of himself in the way of
+literature.
+
+It is in portrait-painting, the delineation of men, that the greatness
+of Shakespeare comes out most decisively. His calm, creative
+perspicacity is unexampled. The word that will describe the thing
+follows of itself from such clear intense sight of the thing. He takes
+in all kinds of men--a Falstaff, Othello, Juliet, Coriolanus; sets them
+all forth to us in their rounded completeness, loving, just, the equal
+brother of all.
+
+The degree of vision that dwells in a man is a correct measure of
+the man, and Shakespeare's is the greatest of intellects. Novalis
+beautifully remarks of him that those dramas of his are products of
+nature, too, deep as nature herself. Shakespeare's art is not artifice;
+the noblest worth of it is not there by plan or pre-contrivance. The
+latest generations of men will find new meanings in Shakespeare, new
+elucidations of their own human being.
+
+Shakespeare, too, was a prophet, in his way, of an insight analogous to
+the prophetic, though he took it up in another strain. Nature seemed to
+this man also divine, unspeakable, deep as Tophet, high as heaven. "We
+are such stuff as dreams are made of." There rises a kind of universal
+psalm out of Shakespeare, not unfit to make itself heard among the
+still more sacred psalms.
+
+England, before long, this island of ours, will hold but a small
+fraction of the English; east and west to the antipodes there will be a
+Saxondom covering great spaces of the globe. What is it that can keep
+all these together into virtually one nation, so that they do not fall
+out and fight, but live at peace? Here, I say, is an English king whom
+no time or chance can dethrone! King Shakespeare shines over us all, as
+the noblest, gentlest, yet strongest of rallying-signs; we can fancy
+him as radiant aloft over all the nations of Englishmen, a thousand
+years hence. Truly it is a great thing for a nation that it gets an
+articulate voice.
+
+
+_IV.--The Hero as Priest_
+
+The priest, too, is a kind of prophet. In him, also, there is required
+to be a light of inspiration. He presides over the worship of the
+people, and is the uniter of them with the unseen Holy. He is their
+spiritual captain, as the prophet is their spiritual king with many
+captains.
+
+Luther and Knox were by express vocation priests, yet it will suit us
+better here to consider them chiefly in their historical character as
+reformers. The battling reformer is from time to time a needful and
+inevitable phenomenon. Obstructions are never wanting; the very things
+that were once indispensable furtherances become obstructions, and
+need to be shaken off and left behind us--a business often of enormous
+difficulty.
+
+We are to consider Luther as an idol-breaker, a bringer back of men to
+reality, for that is the function of great men and teachers. Thus it
+was that Luther said to the Pope, "This thing of yours that you call a
+pardon of sins, is a bit of rag-paper with ink. It, and so much like
+it, is nothing else. God alone can pardon sins. God's Church is not a
+semblance, Heaven and Hell are not semblances. Standing on this, I, a
+poor German monk, am stronger than you all."
+
+The most interesting phase which the Reformation anywhere assumes
+is that of Puritanism, which even got itself established as a
+Presbyterianism and National Church among the Scotch, and has produced
+in the world very notable fruit. Knox was the chief priest and founder
+of that faith which became the faith of Scotland, of New England, of
+Oliver Cromwell; and that which Knox did for his nation we may really
+call a resurrection as from death. The people began to live. Scotch
+literature and thought, Scotch industry, James Watt, David Hume, Walter
+Scott, Robert Burns--I find Knox and the Reformation acting in the
+heart's core of every one of these persons and phenomena; I find that
+without the Reformation they would not have been.
+
+Knox could not live but by fact. He is an instance to us how a
+man, by sincerity itself, becomes heroic. We find in Knox a good,
+honest, intellectual talent, no transcendent one; he was a narrow,
+inconsiderable man as compared with Luther; but in heartfelt,
+instinctive adherence to truth, in real sincerity, he has no superior.
+His heart is of the true prophet cast. "He lies there," said the Earl
+of Morton, at his grave, "who never feared the face of man."
+
+
+_V.--The Hero as Man of Letters_
+
+The hero as man of letters is a new and singular phenomenon. Living
+in his squalid garret and rusty coat; ruling from his grave after
+death whole nations and generations; he must be regarded as our most
+important modern person. Such as he may be, he is the soul of all.
+Intrinsically it is the same function which the old generations named a
+prophet, priest, or divinity for doing.
+
+The three great prophets of the eighteenth century, that singular
+age of scepticism, were Johnson, Rousseau, and Burns; they were not,
+indeed, heroic bringers of the light, but heroic seekers of it,
+struggling under mountains of impediment.
+
+As for Johnson, I have always considered him to be, by nature, one of
+our great English souls. It was in virtue of his sincerity, of his
+speaking still in some sort from the heart of nature, though in the
+current artificial dialect, that Johnson was a prophet. The highest
+gospel he preached was a kind of moral prudence, coupled with this
+other great gospel, "Clear your mind of cant!" These two things, joined
+together, were, perhaps, the greatest gospel that was possible at that
+time.
+
+Of Rousseau and his heroism I cannot say so much. He was not a strong
+man; but a morbid, excitable, spasmodic man; at best, intense rather
+than strong. Yet, at least he was heartily in earnest, if ever man was;
+his ideas possessed him like demons.
+
+The fault and misery of Rousseau was egoism, which is the source and
+summary of all faults and miseries whatsoever. He had not perfected
+himself into victory over mere desire; a mean hunger was still his
+motive principle. He was a very vain man, hungry for the praises of
+men. The whole nature of the man was poisoned; there was nothing but
+suspicion, self-isolation, and fierce, moody ways.
+
+And yet this Rousseau, with his celebrations of nature, even of savage
+life in nature, did once more touch upon reality and struggle towards
+reality. Strangely through all that defacement, degradation, and almost
+madness, there is in the inmost heart of poor Rousseau a spark of
+real heavenly fire. Out of all that withered, mocking philosophism,
+scepticism, and persiflage of his day there has arisen in this man the
+ineradicable feeling and knowledge that this life of ours is true, not
+a theorem, but a fact.
+
+The French Revolution found its evangelist in Rousseau. His
+semi-delirious speculations on the miseries of civilised life, and such
+like, helped to produce a delirium in France generally. It is difficult
+to say what the governors of the world could do with such a man. What
+he could do with them is clear enough--guillotine a great many of them.
+
+The tragedy of Burns's life is known to all. The largest soul of all
+the British lands appeared under every disadvantage; uninstructed,
+poor, born only to hard manual toil; and writing, when it came to that,
+in a rustic special dialect, known only to a small province of the
+country he lived in.
+
+We find in Burns a noble, rough genuineness, the true simplicity of
+strength, and a deep and earnest element of sunshine and joyfulness;
+yet the chief quality, both of his poetry and of his life, is
+sincerity--a wild wrestling with the truth of things.
+
+
+_VI.--The Hero as King_
+
+The commander over men, to whose will our wills are to be subordinated
+and loyally surrender themselves, and find their welfare in doing
+so, may be reckoned the most important of great men. He is called
+_Rex_, "Regulator"; our own name is still better--king, which means
+"can-ning," "able-man."
+
+In rebellious ages, when kingship itself seems dead and abolished,
+Cromwell and Napoleon step forth again as kings. The old ages are
+brought back to us; the manner in which kings were made, and kingship
+itself first took rise, is again exhibited in the history of these two.
+
+The war of the Puritans was a section of that universal war which alone
+makes up the true history of the world--the war of Belief against
+Unbelief; the struggle of men intent on the real essence of things,
+against men intent on the semblances and forms of things. And among
+these Puritans Cromwell stood supreme, grappling like a giant, face
+to face, heart to heart, with the naked truth of things. Yet Cromwell
+alone finds no hearty apologist anywhere. Selfish ambition, dishonesty,
+duplicity; a fierce, coarse, hypocritical Tartuffe; turning all that
+noble struggle for constitutional liberty into a sorry farce played for
+his own benefit. This, and worse, is the character they give him.
+
+From of old, this theory of Cromwell's falsity has been incredible to
+me. All that we know of him betokens an earnest, hearty sincerity.
+Everywhere we have to note his decisive, practical eye, how he drives
+towards the practicable, and has a genuine insight into what is fact.
+Such an intellect does not belong to a false man; the false man sees
+false shows, plausibilities, expediences; the true man is needed to
+discern even practical truth.
+
+Napoleon by no means seems to me so great a man as Cromwell. His
+enormous victories which reached over all Europe, while Cromwell abode
+mainly in our little England, are but as the high stilts on which the
+man is seen standing; the stature of the man is not altered thereby. I
+find in him no such sincerity as in Cromwell; only a far inferior sort.
+
+"False as a bulletin," became a proverb in Napoleon's time. Yet he had
+a sincerity, a certain instinctive, ineradicable feeling for reality;
+and did base himself upon fact, so long as he had any basis. He had an
+instinct of Nature better than his culture was. His companions, we are
+told, were one evening busily occupied arguing that there could be no
+God; they had proved it by all manner of logic. Napoleon, looking up
+into the stars, answers, "Very ingenious, Messieurs; but who made all
+that?" The atheistic logic runs off from him like water; the great fact
+stares him in the face. So, too, in practice; he, as every man that can
+be great, sees, through all entanglements, the practical heart of the
+matter, and drives straight towards that.
+
+Accordingly, there was a faith in him, genuine so far as it went. That
+this new, enormous democracy is an insuppressible fact, which the
+whole world cannot put down--this was a true insight of his, and took
+his conscience and enthusiasm along with it. And did he not interpret
+the dim purport of it well? _La carriere ouverte aux talents_--"the
+implements to him who can handle them"--this actually is the truth, and
+even the whole truth; it includes whatever the French Revolution or any
+revolution could mean. It is a great, true message from our last great
+man.
+
+
+
+
+Sartor Resartus
+
+  "Sartor Resartus," first published in "Frazer's Magazine" in
+  1833-34, is Thomas Carlyle's most popular work, and is largely
+  autobiographical.
+
+
+I.--_The Philosophy of Clothes_
+
+Considering our present advanced state of culture, and how the torch
+of science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or
+less effect, for five thousand years and upwards, it is surprising
+that hitherto little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether
+in the way of philosophy or history, has been written on the subject
+of clothes. Every other tissue has been dissected, but the vestural
+tissue of woollen or other cloth, which man's soul wears as its outmost
+wrappage, has been quite overlooked. All speculation has tacitly
+figured man as a clothed animal, whereas he is by nature a naked
+animal, and only in certain circumstances, by purpose and device, masks
+himself in clothes.
+
+But here, as in so many other cases, learned, indefatigable,
+deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid. The editor of these sheets
+has lately received a new book from Professor Teufelsdroeckh, of
+Weissnichtwo, treating expressly of "Clothes, their Origin and
+Influence" (1831). This extensive volume, a very sea of thought,
+discloses to us not only a new branch of philosophy, but also
+the strange personal character of Professor Teufelsdroeckh, which
+is scarcely less interesting. We were just considering how the
+extraordinary doctrines of this book might best be imparted to our
+own English nation, when we received a letter from Herr Hofrath
+Heuschrecke, our professor's chief associate, offering us the requisite
+documents for a biography of Teufelsdroeckh. This was the origin of our
+"Sartor Resartus," now presented in the vehicle of "Frazer's Magazine."
+
+Professor Teufelsdroeckh, when we knew him at Weissnichtwo, lived a
+still and self-contained life, devoted to the higher philosophies and
+to a certain speculative radicalism. The last words that he spoke in
+our hearing were to propose a toast in the coffee-house--"The cause of
+the poor, in heaven's name and the devil's." But we looked for nothing
+moral from him, still less anything didactico-religious.
+
+Brave Teufelsdroeckh, who could tell what lurked in thee? In thine eyes,
+deep under thy shaggy brows, and looking out so still and dreamy,
+have we not noticed gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire?
+Our friend's title was that of Professor of Things in General, but he
+never delivered any course. We used to sit with him in his attic,
+overlooking the town; he would contemplate that wasp-nest or bee-hive
+spread out below him, and utter the strangest thoughts. "That living
+flood, pouring through these streets, is coming from eternity, going
+onward to eternity. These are apparitions. What else?" Thus he lived
+and meditated with Heuschrecke as Boswell for his Johnson.
+
+"As Montesquieu wrote a 'Spirit of Laws,'" observes our professor, "so
+could I write a 'Spirit of Clothes,' for neither in tailoring nor in
+legislating does man proceed by mere accident, but the hand is ever
+guided by the mysterious operations of the mind." And so he deals with
+Paradise and fig-leaves, and proceeds to view the costumes of all
+mankind, in all countries, in all times.
+
+The first purpose of clothes, he imagines, was not warmth or decency,
+but ornament. "Yet what have they not become? Increased security
+and pleasurable heat soon followed; divine shame or modesty, as yet
+a stranger to the anthropophagous bosom, arose there mysteriously
+under clothes, a mystic shrine for the holy in man. Clothes gave us
+individuality, distinctions, social polity; clothes have made men of
+us; they are threatening to make clothes-screens of us."
+
+Teufelsdroeckh dwells chiefly on the seams, tatters, and unsightly
+wrong-side of clothes, but he has also a superlative transcendentalism.
+To him, man is a soul, a spirit, and divine apparition, whose flesh
+and senses are but a garment. He deals much in the feeling of wonder,
+insisting that wonder is the only reasonable temper for the denizen
+of our planet. "Wonder," he says, "is the basis of worship," and
+that progress of science, which is to destroy wonder and substitute
+mensuration and numeration, finds small favour with him. "Clothes,
+despicable as we think them, are unspeakably significant."
+
+
+_II.--Biography of Teufelsdroeckh_
+
+So far as we can gather from the disordered papers which have been
+placed in our hands, the genesis of Diogenes Teufelsdroeckh is obscure.
+We see nothing but an exodus out of invisibility into visibility.
+In the village of Entepfuhl we find a childless couple, verging on
+old age. Andreas Futteral, who has been a grenadier sergeant under
+Frederick the Great, is now cultivating a little orchard. To him and
+Gretchen his wife there entered one evening a stranger of reverend
+aspect, who deposited a silk-covered basket, saying, "Good people, here
+is an invaluable loan; take all heed thereof; with high recompense, or
+else with heavy penalty, will it one day be required back." Therein
+they found, as soon as he had departed, a little infant in the softest
+sleep. Our philosopher tells us that this story, told him in his
+twelfth year, produced a quite indelible impression. Who was his
+unknown father, whom he was never able to meet?
+
+We receive glimpses of his childhood, schooldays, and university life,
+and then meet with him in that difficulty, common to young men, of
+"getting under way." "Not what I have," he says, "but what I do, is my
+kingdom; and we should grope throughout our lives from one expectation
+and disappointment to another were we not saved by one thing--our
+hunger." He had thrown up his legal profession, and found himself
+without landmark of outward guidance; whereby his previous want of
+decided belief, or inward guidance, is frightfully aggravated. So he
+sets out over an unknown sea; but a certain Calypso Island at the very
+outset falsifies his whole reckoning.
+
+"Nowhere," he says, "does Heaven so immediately reveal itself to the
+young man as in the young maiden. The feeling of our young forlorn
+towards the queens of this earth was, and indeed is, altogether
+unspeakable. A visible divinity dwelt in them; to our young friend all
+women were holy, were heavenly. And if, on a soul so circumstanced,
+some actual air-maiden should cast kind eyes, saying thereby, 'Thou
+too mayest love and be loved,' and so kindle him--good Heaven, what an
+all-consuming fire were probably kindled!"
+
+Such a fire of romance did actually burst forth in Herr Diogenes.
+We know not who "Blumine" was, nor how they met. She was young,
+hazel-eyed, beautiful, high-born, and of high spirit, but unhappily
+dependent and insolvent, living perhaps on the bounty of moneyed
+relatives. "To our friend the hours seemed moments; holy was he and
+happy; the words from those sweetest lips came over him like dew on
+thirsty grass. At parting, the Blumine's hand was in his; in the balmy
+twilight, with the kind stars above them, he spoke something of meeting
+again, which was not contradicted; he pressed gently those soft,
+small fingers, and it seemed as if they were not hastily, not angrily
+withdrawn."
+
+Poor Teufelsdroeckh, it is clear to demonstration thou art smit!
+Flame-clad, thou art scaling the upper Heaven, and verging towards
+insanity, for prize of a high-souled brunette, as if the earth held but
+one and not several of these! "One morning, he found his morning-star
+all dimmed and dusky-red; doomsday had dawned; they were to meet no
+more!" Their lips were joined for the first time and the last, and
+Teufelsdroeckh was made immortal by a kiss. And then--"thick curtains
+of night rushed over his soul, and he fell, through the ruins as of a
+shivered universe, towards the abyss."
+
+He quietly lifts his pilgrim-staff, and begins a perambulation and
+circumambulation of the terraqueous globe. We find him in Paris, in
+Vienna, in Tartary, in the Sahara, flying with hunger always parallel
+to him, and a whole infernal chase in his rear. He traverses mountains
+and valleys with aimless speed, writing with footprints his sorrows,
+that his spirit may free herself, and he become a man. Vain truly
+is the hope of your swiftest runner to escape from his own shadow!
+We behold him, through these dim years, in a state of crisis, of
+transition; his aimless pilgrimings are but a mad fermentation,
+wherefrom, the fiercer it is, the clearer product will one day evolve
+itself.
+
+Man has no other possession but hope; this world of his is emphatically
+the "Place of Hope"; yet our professor, for the present, is quite shut
+out from hope. As he wanders wearisomely through this world he has
+now lost all tidings of another and higher. "Doubt," says he, "had
+darkened into unbelief." It is all a grim desert, this once fair world
+of his; and no pillar of cloud by day, and no pillar of fire by night,
+any longer guides the pilgrim. "Invisible yet impenetrable walls, as
+of enchantment, divided me from all living; was there, in the wide
+world, any true bosom I could press trustfully to mine? O Heaven, no,
+there was none! To me the universe was all void of life, of purpose,
+of volition, even of hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable
+steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb
+from limb. O, the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and mill of death!
+
+"Full of such humour, and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole
+French capital or suburbs, was I, one sultry dog-day, after much
+perambulation, toiling along the dirty little Rue Saint Thomas de
+l'Enfer, among civic rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over
+pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar's furnace; whereby doubtless my spirits
+were a little cheered; when, all at once, there rose a thought in
+me, and I asked myself, 'What _art_ thou afraid of? Wherefore, like
+a coward, dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering and
+trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that
+lies before thee? Death? Well, death; and say the pangs of Tophet too,
+and all that the devil and man may, will, or can do against thee! Hast
+thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatever it be; and, as a
+child of freedom, though outcast, trample Tophet itself under thy feet,
+while it consumes thee? Let it come, then; I will meet it and defy it!'
+And, as I so thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole
+soul; and I shook base fear away from me for ever. Ever from that time,
+the temper of my misery was changed; not fear or whining sorrow was it,
+but indignation and grim fire-eyed defiance.
+
+"Thus had the _Everlasting No_ pealed authoritatively through all the
+recesses of my being, of my _Me_; and then was it that my whole _Me_
+stood up, in native God-created majesty, and with emphasis recorded its
+protest. The Everlasting No had said, 'Behold, thou art fatherless,
+outcast, and the universe is mine, the devil's'; to which my whole _Me_
+now made answer, 'I am not thine, but free, and for ever hate thee!'
+
+"It is from this hour that I incline to date my spiritual new-birth,
+or Baphometic Fire-baptism; perhaps I directly thereupon began to be a
+man."
+
+Our wanderer's unrest was for a time but increased. "Indignation and
+defiance are not the most peaceable inmates," yet it was no longer
+a quite hopeless unrest. He looked away from his own sorrows, over
+the many-coloured world, and few periods of his life were richer in
+spiritual culture than this. He had reached the Centre of Indifference
+wherein he had accepted his own nothingness. "I renounced utterly, I
+would hope no more and fear no more. To die or to live was to me alike
+insignificant. Here, then, as I lay in that Centre of Indifference,
+cast by benignant upper influence into a healing sleep, the heavy
+dreams rolled gradually away, and I awoke to a new heaven and a new
+earth. I saw that man can do without happiness and instead thereof find
+blessedness. Love not pleasure; love God. This is the _Everlasting
+Yea_, wherein all contradiction is solved; wherein whoso walks and
+works, it is well with him. In this poor, miserable, hampered,
+despicable Actual, wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere is
+thy Ideal; work it out therefrom; and working, believe, live, be free!
+Produce! produce! Work while it is called to-day."
+
+
+_III.--The Volume on Clothes_
+
+In so capricious a work as this of the professor's, our course
+cannot be straightforward, but only leap by leap, noting significant
+indications here and there. Thus, "perhaps the most remarkable incident
+in modern history," he says, "is George Fox's making to himself a suit
+of leather, when, desiring meditation and devout prayer to God, he
+took to the woods, chose the hollow of a tree for his lodging and wild
+berries for his food, and for clothes stitched himself one perennial
+suit of leather. Then was there in broad Europe one free man, and Fox
+was he!"
+
+Under the title "Church-Clothes," by which Teufelsdroeckh signifies the
+forms, the vestures, under which men have at various periods embodied
+and represented for themselves the religious principle, he says, "These
+are unspeakably the most important of all the vestures and garnitures
+of human existence. Church-clothes are first spun and woven by society;
+outward religion originates by society; society becomes possible by
+religion."
+
+Of "symbols," as means of concealment and yet of revelation, thus
+uniting in themselves the efficacies at once of speech and of silence,
+our professor writes, "In the symbol proper there is ever, more or
+less distinctly and directly, some embodiment and revelation of the
+Infinite; the Infinite is made to blend itself with the finite; to
+stand visible, and, as it were, attainable there. Of this sort are all
+true works of art; in them, if thou know a work of art from a daub of
+artifice, wilt thou discern eternity looking through time; the God-like
+rendered visible. But nobler than all in this kind are the lives of
+heroic God-inspired men, for what other work of art is so divine?" And
+again, "Of this be certain, wouldst thou plant for eternity, then plant
+into the deep infinite faculties of man, his fantasy and heart; wouldst
+thou plant for year and day, then plant into his shallow superficial
+faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding."
+
+As for Helotage, or that lot of the poor wherein no ray of heavenly nor
+even of earthly knowledge visits him, Teufelsdroeckh says, "That there
+should one man die ignorant who had capacity for knowledge, this I call
+a tragedy, were it to happen more than twenty times in the minute."
+
+In another place, our professor meditates upon the awful procession of
+mankind. "Like a God-created, fire-breathing spirit-host, we emerge
+from the inane; haste stormfully across the astonished earth; then
+plunge again into the inane. But whence?--O Heaven, whither? Sense
+knows not; Faith knows not; only that it is through mystery to mystery,
+from God and to God.
+
+   "We are such stuff
+    As dreams are made of, and our little life
+    Is rounded with a sleep!"
+
+
+
+
+MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO
+
+Concerning Friendship
+
+  The dialogue "Concerning Friendship" was composed immediately
+  after the assassination of Julius Caesar, and was suggested by the
+  conduct of certain friends of the mighty dead, who were trying,
+  in the name of friendship, to inflame the populace against the
+  cause of the conspirators. (Cicero biography, see Vol. IX, p.
+  155, and also p. 274 of the present volume.)
+
+
+_A Dialogue_
+
+FANNIUS: I agree with you, Laelius; never was man better known for
+justice or for glory than Scipio Africanus. That is why everyone in
+Rome is looking to you; everyone is asking me, and Scaevola here, how
+the wise Laelius is bearing the loss of his dead friend. For they call
+you wise, you know, in the same sense as the oracle called Socrates
+wise, because you believe that your happiness depends on yourself
+alone, and that virtue can fortify the soul against every calamity. May
+we know, then, how you bear your sorrow?
+
+SCAEVOLA: He says truly; many have asked me the same question. I tell
+them that you are composed and patient, though deeply touched by the
+death of your dearest friend, and one of the greatest of men.
+
+LAELIUS: You have answered well. True it is that I sorrow for a friend
+whose like I shall never see again; but it is also true that I need
+no consolations, since I believe that no evil has befallen Scipio.
+Whatever misfortune there is, is my misfortune, and any immoderate
+distress would show self-love, not love for him. What a man he was!
+Well, he is in heaven; and I sometimes hope that the friendship of
+Scipio and Laelius may live in human memory.
+
+FANNIUS: Yes--your friendship: what do you believe about friendship?
+
+SCAEVOLA: That's what we want to know.
+
+LAELIUS: Who am I, to speak on such a subject all on a sudden? You
+should go to these Greek professionals, who can spin you a discourse
+on anything at a moment's notice. For my part, I can only advise
+this--prize friendship above all earthly things. We seem to be made
+for friendship; it is our great stand-by whether in weal or woe. Yet
+I can say this too: friendship cannot be except among the good. I
+don't mean a fantastical and unattainable pitch of goodness such as
+the philosophers prate about; I mean the genuine, commonplace goodness
+of flesh and blood, that actually exists. I mean such men as live in
+honour, justice, and liberality, and are consistent, and are neither
+covetous nor licentious, nor brazen-faced; such men are good enough for
+us, because they follow Nature as far as they can.
+
+Friendship consists of a perfect conformity of opinion upon all
+subjects, divine and human, together with a feeling of kindness and
+attachment. And though some prefer riches, health, power, honours,
+or even pleasure, no greater boon than friendship, with the single
+exception of wisdom, has been given by the gods to man. It is quite
+true that our highest good depends on virtue; but virtue inevitably
+begets and nourishes friendship. What a part, for instance, friendship
+has played in the lives of the good men we have known--the Catos, the
+Galli, the Scipios, and the like!
+
+How manifold, again, are its benefits! What greater delight is there
+than to have one with whom you may talk as if with yourself? One who
+will joy in your good fortune, and bear the heaviest end of your
+burdens! Other things are good for particular purposes, friendship
+for all; neither water nor fire has so many uses. But in one respect
+friendship transcends everything else: it throws a brilliant gleam of
+hope over the future, and banishes despondency. Whoever has a true
+friend sees in him a reflection of himself; and each is strong in the
+strength and rich in the wealth of the other.
+
+If you consider that the principle of harmony and benevolence is
+necessary to the very existence of families and states, you will
+understand how high a thing is friendship, in which that harmony and
+benevolence reach their perfect flower. There was a philosopher of
+Agrigentum who explained the properties of matter and the movements of
+bodies in terms of affection and repulsion; and however that may be,
+everyone knows that these are the real forces in human life. Who does
+not applaud the friendship that shares in mortal dangers, whether in
+real life or in the play?
+
+SCAEVOLA: You speak highly of friendship. What are its principles and
+duties?
+
+LAELIUS: Do we desire a friend because of our own weakness and
+deficiency, in order that we may obtain from him what we lack
+ourselves, repaying him by reciprocal service? Or is all that only an
+incident of friendship, and does the bond derive from a remoter and
+more beautiful origin, in the heart of Nature herself? For my part,
+I take the latter view. Friendship is a natural emotion, and not an
+arrangement of convenience. Its character may be recognised even in
+the lower animals, and much more plainly in the love of human parents
+for their children, and, most of all, in our affection for a congenial
+friend, whom we see in an atmosphere of virtue and worth.
+
+The other is not an ignoble theory, but it leaves us in the difficulty
+that if it were true, the weakest, meanest, and poorest of humanity
+would be the most inclined to friendship. But it is the strong, rich,
+independent, and self-reliant man, deeply founded in wisdom and
+dignity, who makes great friendships. What did Africanus need of me, or
+I of him? Advantages followed, but they did not lead. But there are
+people who will always be referring everything to the one principle of
+self-advantage; they have no eyes for anything great and god-like. Let
+us leave such theorists alone; the plain fact is, that whenever worth
+is seen, love for it is enkindled. Associations founded upon interest
+presently dissolve, because interest changes; but Nature never changes,
+and therefore true friendships are imperishable.
+
+Scipio used to say that it was exceedingly difficult to carry on a
+friendship to the end of life, because the paths of interest so often
+diverge. There may be competition for office, or a dishonorable request
+may be refused, or some other accident may be fatal to the bond. This
+refusal to join in a nefarious course of action is often the end of a
+friendship, and it is worth inquiring how far the claims of affection
+ought to extend. Tiberius Gracchus, when he troubled the state, was
+deserted by almost all his friends; one of them who had assisted him
+told me that he had such high regard for Gracchus that he could refuse
+him nothing. "But what," said I, "if he had asked you to set fire to
+the capitol?" "I would have done it!"
+
+What an infamous confession! No degree of friendship can justify
+a crime; and since virtue is the foundation of friendship, crime
+must inevitably undermine it. Let this, then, be the rule of
+friendship--never to make disgraceful requests, and never to grant them
+when they are made.
+
+Among the perverse, over-subtle ideas of certain Greek philosophers is
+the maxim that we should be very cool in the matter of friendship. They
+say that we have enough to do with our own affairs, without taking on
+other people's affairs too; and that our minds cannot be serenely at
+leisure if we are liable to be tortured by the sorrows of a friend.
+They advise, also, that friendships should be sought for the sake of
+protection, and not for the sake of kindliness. O noble philosophy!
+They put out the sun in the heavens, and offer us instead a freedom
+from care that is worse than worthless. Virtue has not a heart of
+stone, but is gentle and compassionate, rejoicing with the joyful and
+weeping with those who mourn. True virtue is never unsocial, never
+haughty.
+
+With regard to the limits of friendship, I have heard three several
+maxims, but disapprove them all. First, that we ought to feel towards
+our friend exactly as we feel towards ourselves. That would never
+do; for we do many things for our friends that we should never think
+of doing for ourselves. We ask favours and reprehend injuries for a
+friend, where we would not solicit for, or defend, ourselves. Secondly,
+that our kindness to a friend should be meted out in precise equipoise
+to his kindness to us. This is too miserable a theory: friendship
+is opulent and generous. The third is, that we should take our
+friend's own estimate of himself, and act upon it. This is the worst
+principle of the three; for if our friend is over-humble, diffident or
+despondent, it is the very business of friendship to cheer him and urge
+him on. But Scipio used to condemn yet another principle that is worse
+still. Some one--he thought it must have been a bad man--once said that
+we ought to remember in friendship that some day the friend might be an
+enemy. How, in that state of mind, could one be a friend at all?
+
+A sound principle, I think, is this. In the friendship of upright men
+there ought to be an unrestricted communication of every interest,
+every purpose, every inclination. Then, in any matter of importance
+to the life or reputation of your friend, you may deviate a little
+from the strictest line of conduct so long as you do not do anything
+that is actually infamous. Then, with regard to the choice of friends,
+Scipio used to say that men were more careful about their sheep and
+goats than about their friends. Choose men of constancy, solidity, and
+firmness; and until their trustworthiness has been tested, be moderate
+in your affection and confidence. Seek first of all for sincerity. Your
+friend should also have an open, genial, and sociable temper, and his
+sympathies should be the same as yours. He must not be ready to believe
+accusations. Lastly, his talk and manner should be debonair; we don't
+want austerities and solemnities in friendship.
+
+I have heard it suggested that we ought perhaps to prefer new friends
+to old, as we prefer a young horse to an old one. Satiety should have
+no place in friendship. Old wines are the best, and so are the friends
+of many years. Do not despise the acquaintance that promises to ripen
+into something better; but do not sacrifice for it the deeply rooted
+intimacy. Even inanimate things take hold of our hearts by long custom;
+we love the mountains and forests of our youth.
+
+There is often a great disparity in respect of rank or talent between
+intimate friends. Whenever that is so, let the superior place himself
+on the level of the inferior; let him share all his advantages with his
+friend. The best way to reap the full harvest of genius, or of merit,
+or of any other excellence, is to encourage all one's kindred and
+associates to enjoy it too. But if the superior ought to condescend to
+the inferior, so the inferior ought to be free from envy. And let him
+not make a fuss about such services as he has been able to render.
+
+To pass from the noble friendships of the wise to more commonplace
+intimacies, we cannot leave out of account the necessity that sometimes
+arises of breaking off a friendship. A man falls into scandalous
+courses, his disgrace is reflected on his companions, and their
+relation must come to an end. Well, the end had best come gradually and
+gently, unless the offence is so detestable that an abrupt and final
+cutting of the acquaintance is absolutely inevitable. Disengage, if
+possible, rather than cut. And let the matter end with estrangement;
+let it not proceed to active animosity and hostility. It is very
+unbecoming to engage in public war with a man who has been known as
+one's friend. On two separate occasions Scipio thought it right to
+withdraw his confidence from certain friends. In each case he kept his
+dignity and self-command; he was grieved, but never bitter. Of course,
+the best way to guard against such unfortunate occurrences is to take
+the greatest care in forming friendships. All excellence is rare, and
+that moral excellence which makes fit objects for friendship is as rare
+as any.
+
+On the other hand, it would be unreasonable and presumptuous in anyone
+to expect to find a friend of a quality to which he himself can never
+hope to attain, or to demand from his friend an indulgence which he
+is not prepared himself to offer. Friendship was given us to be an
+incentive to virtue, and not as an indulgence to vice or to mediocrity;
+in order that, since a solitary virtue cannot scale the peaks, it may
+do so with the loyal help of a comrade. A comradeship of this kind
+includes within it all that men most desire.
+
+Think nobly of friendship, and conduct yourselves wisely in it, for in
+one way or another it enters into the life of every man. Even Timon of
+Athens, whose one impulse was a brutal misanthropy, must needs seek a
+confidant into whose mind he may instil his detestable venom. I have
+heard, and I agree with it, that though a man should contemplate from
+the heavens the universal beauty of creation, he would soon weary of it
+without a companion for his admiration.
+
+Of course, there are rubs in friendship which a sensible man will learn
+to avoid, or to ignore, or to bear them cheerfully. Admonitions and
+reproofs must have their part in true amity, and it is as difficult
+to utter them tactfully as it is to receive them in good part.
+Complaisance seems more propitious to friendship than are these naked
+truths. But though truth may be painful, complaisance is more likely
+in the long run to prove disastrous. It is no kindness to allow a
+friend to rush headlong to ruin. Let your remonstrances be free from
+bitterness and from insult; let your complaisance be affable, but never
+servile. As for adulation, there are no words bad enough for it. Even
+the populace have only contempt for the politician who flatters them.
+Despise the insinuations of the sycophant, for what is more shameful
+than to be made a fool of?
+
+I tell you, sirs, that it is virtue that lasts; that begets real
+friendships and maintains them. Lay, therefore, while you are young,
+the foundations of a virtuous life.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM COBBETT
+
+Advice to Young Men
+
+  William Cobbett, the celebrated English political writer, was
+  born in March, 1762, at Farnham in Surrey. He took a dislike to
+  rural occupations, and at an early age went to London, where
+  he was employed for a few months as a copying clerk. This work
+  was distasteful to him, and he enlisted in the army, and went
+  with his regiment to Nova Scotia. On returning to England in
+  1791, he obtained his discharge, married, and went to America.
+  In Philadelphia he commenced his career as a political writer.
+  Cobbett's "Advice to Young Men" was published in 1830. It has
+  always been the most popular of his books, partly because of
+  its subject, and partly because it illustrates so well the bold
+  and forceful directness of his style. An intensely egotistical
+  and confident man, Cobbett believed that his own strangely
+  inconsistent life was a model for all men. Yet, contrary to what
+  might have been expected, he was a delightful man in the domestic
+  circle, and the story of his marriage--which has been narrated
+  in his "Rural Rides"--is one of the romances of literary life.
+  The original introduction to the "Advice" contained personal
+  reference incredible in anyone except Cobbett. Said he, "Few will
+  be disposed to question my fitness for the task. If such a man be
+  not qualified to give advice, no man is qualified." And he went
+  on to claim for himself "genius and something more." He certainly
+  had a remarkable fund of commonsense, except when his subject was
+  himself. Cobbett died June 18, 1835.
+
+
+_I.--To a Youth_
+
+You are arrived, let us suppose, at the age of from fourteen to nearly
+twenty, and I here offer you my advice towards making you a happy man,
+useful to all about you, and an honour to those from whom you sprang.
+Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly fixed in your mind that
+you have no right to live in this world without doing work of some sort
+or other. To wish to live on the labour of others is to contemplate a
+fraud.
+
+Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is to be found only in
+independence. Turn your back on what is called interest. Write it on
+your heart that you will depend solely on your own merit and your own
+exertions, for that which a man owes to favour or to partiality, that
+same favour or partiality is constantly liable to take from him.
+
+The great source of independence the French express in three words,
+"_Vivre de peu_." "To live upon little" is the great security against
+slavery; and this precept extends to dress and other things besides
+food and drink. Extravagance in dress arises from the notion that all
+the people in the street will be looking at you as you walk out; but
+all the sensible people that happen to see you will think nothing at
+all about you. Natural beauty of person always will and must have some
+weight, even with men, and great weight with women; but this does not
+want to be set off by expensive clothes.
+
+A love of what is called "good eating and drinking," if very unamiable
+in a grown-up person, is perfectly hateful in a youth. I have never
+known such a man worthy of respect.
+
+Next, as to amusements. Dancing is at once rational and healthful;
+it is the natural amusement of young people, and none but the most
+grovelling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and despicable
+fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. As to gaming, it is
+always criminal, either in itself or in its tendency. The basis of it
+is covetousness; a desire to take from others something for which you
+have given, and intend to give, no equivalent.
+
+Be careful in choosing your companions; and lay down as a rule never to
+be departed from that no youth or man ought to be called your friend
+who is addicted to indecent talk.
+
+In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt, but even these are
+preferable to simpering and crawling. Be obedient where obedience is
+due; for it is no act of meanness to yield implicit and ready obedience
+to those who have a right to demand it at your hands. None are so saucy
+and disobedient as slaves; and, when you come to read history, you
+will find that in proportion as nations have been free has been their
+reverence for the laws.
+
+Let me now turn to the things which you ought to do. And, first of
+all, the husbanding of your time. Young people require more sleep than
+those that are grown up, and the number of hours cannot well be, on an
+average, less than eight. An hour in bed is better than an hours spent
+over the fire in an idle gossip.
+
+Money is said to be power; but superior sobriety, industry, and
+activity are still a more certain source of power. Booklearning is not
+only proper, but highly commendable; and portions of it are absolutely
+necessary in every case of trade or profession. One of these portions
+is distinct reading, plain and neat writing, and arithmetic. The
+next thing is the grammar of your own language, for grammar is the
+foundation of all literature. Excellence in your own calling is the
+first thing to be aimed at. After this may come general knowledge.
+Geography naturally follows grammar; and you should begin with that of
+this kingdom. When you come to history, begin also with that of your
+own country; and here it is my bounded duty to put you well on your
+guard. The works of our historians are, as far as they relate to former
+times, masses of lies unmatched by any others that the world has ever
+seen.
+
+
+_II.--To a Young Man_
+
+To be poor and independent is very nearly an impossibility; though
+poverty is, except where there is an actual want of food and raiment,
+a thing much more imaginary than real. Resolve to set this false shame
+of being poor at defiance. Nevertheless, men ought to take care of
+their names, ought to use them prudently and sparingly, and to keep
+their expenses always within the bounds of their income, be it what it
+may.
+
+One of the effectual means of doing this is to purchase with ready
+money. Innumerable things are not bought at all with ready money which
+would be bought in case of trust; it is so much easier to order a thing
+than to pay for it. I believe that, generally speaking, you pay for the
+same article a fourth part more in the case of trust than you do in the
+case of ready money. The purchasing with ready money really means that
+you have more money to purchase with.
+
+A great evil arising from the desire not to be thought poor is the
+destructive thing honoured by the name of "speculation," but which
+ought to be called gambling. It is a purchasing of something to be sold
+again with a great profit at a considerable hazard. Your life, while
+you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester: a life of general
+gloom, enlivened now and then by a gleam of hope or of success.
+
+In all situations of life avoid the trammels of the law. If you win
+your suit and are poorer than you were before, what do you accomplish?
+Better to put up with the loss of one pound than with two, with all the
+loss of time and all the mortification and anxiety attending a law suit.
+
+Unless your business or your profession be duly attended to there can
+be no real pleasure in any other employment of a portion of your time.
+Men, however, must have some leisure, some relaxation from business;
+and in the choice of this relaxation much of your happiness will depend.
+
+Where fields and gardens are at hand, they present the most rational
+scenes for leisure. Nothing can be more stupid than sitting,
+sotting over a pot and a glass, sending out smoke from the head, and
+articulating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things.
+
+Another mode of spending the leisure time is that of books. To come at
+the true history of a country you must read its laws; you must read
+books treating of its usages and customs in former times; and you must
+particularly inform yourselves as to prices of labour and of food. But
+there is one thing always to be guarded against, and that is not to
+admire and applaud anything you read merely because it is the fashion
+to admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what you read, form your
+own judgments, and stand by that judgment until fact or argument be
+offered to convince you of your error.
+
+
+_III.--To a Lover_
+
+There are two descriptions of lovers on whom all advice would be
+wasted, namely, those in whose minds passion so wholly overpowers
+reason as to deprive the party of his sober senses, and those who love
+according to the rules of arithmetic, or measure their matrimonial
+expectations by the claim of the land-surveyor.
+
+I address myself to the reader whom I suppose to be a real lover, but
+not so smitten as to be bereft of reason. You should never forget that
+marriage is a thing to last for life, and that, generally speaking, it
+is to make life happy or miserable.
+
+The things which you ought to desire in a wife are chastity, sobriety,
+industry, frugality, cleanliness, knowledge of domestic affairs, good
+temper and beauty.
+
+Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even thought, is so
+essential that without it no female is fit to be a wife. If prudery
+mean false modesty, it is to be despised; but if it mean modesty pushed
+to the utmost extent, I confess that I like it. The very elements of
+jealousy ought to be avoided, and the only safeguard is to begin well
+and so render infidelity and jealousy next to impossible.
+
+By sobriety I mean sobriety of conduct. When girls arrive at that
+age which turns their thoughts towards the command of a house it
+is time for them to cast away the levity of a child. Sobriety is a
+title to trustworthiness, and that is a treasure to prize above all
+others. But in order to possess this precious trustworthiness you must
+exercise your reason in the choice of a partner. If she be vain, fond
+of flattery, given to gadding about, coquettish, she will never be
+trustworthy, and you will be unjust if you expect it at her hands. But
+if you find in her that innate sobriety of which I have been speaking,
+there requires on your part confidence and trust without any limit.
+
+An ardent-minded young man may fear that sobriety of conduct in a young
+woman argues a want of warmth; but my observation and experience tell
+me that levity, not sobriety, is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred,
+the companion of a want of ardent feeling.
+
+There is no state in life in which industry in the wife is not
+necessary to the happiness and prosperity of the family. If she be lazy
+there will always be a heavy arrear of things unperformed, and this,
+even among the wealthy, is a great curse. But who is to tell whether a
+girl will make an industrious woman? There are certain outward signs,
+which, if attended to with care, will serve as pretty sure guides.
+
+If you find the tongue lazy you may be nearly certain that the hands
+and feet are the same. The pronunciation of an industrious person is
+generally quick, distinct, and firm. Another mark of industry is a
+quick step and a tread showing that the foot comes down with a hearty
+good will.
+
+Early rising is another mark of industry. It is, I should imagine,
+pretty difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the
+dew, never beholds the rising sun.
+
+Frugality. This means the contrary of extravagance. It does not mean
+stinginess; it means an abstaining from all unnecessary expenditure.
+The outward and vulgar signs of extravagance are all the hardware
+which women put upon their persons. The girl who has not the sense to
+perceive that her person is disfigured, and not beautified by parcels
+of brass, tin, and other hardware stuck about her body, is too great a
+fool to be trusted with the purse of any man.
+
+Cleanliness is a capital ingredient. Occasional cleanliness is not the
+thing that an English or American husband wants; he wants it always. A
+sloven in one thing is a sloven in all things. Make up your mind to a
+rope rather than to live with a slip-shod wife.
+
+Knowledge of domestic affairs is so necessary in every wife that
+the lover ought to have it continually in his eye. A wife must not
+only know how things ought to be done, but how to do them. I cannot
+form an idea of a more unfortunate being than a girl with a mere
+boarding-school education and without a future to enable her to keep a
+servant when married. Of what use are her accomplishments?
+
+Good temper is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand--smiles
+are so cheap. By "good temper" I do not mean easy temper--a serenity
+which nothing disturbs is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, querulousness,
+cold indifference, pertinacity in having the last word, are bad things
+in a young woman, but of all the faults of temper your melancholy
+ladies are the worst. Most wives are at times misery-makers, but the
+melancholy carry it on as a regular trade.
+
+The great use of female beauty is that it naturally tends to keep the
+husband in good humour with himself, to make him pleased with his
+bargain.
+
+As to constancy in lovers, even when marriage has been promised, and
+that, too, in the most solemn manner, it is better for both parties
+to break off than to be coupled together with the reluctant assent of
+either.
+
+
+_IV.--To a Husband_
+
+It is as a husband that your conduct will have the greatest effect on
+your happiness. All in a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and
+education, is, nine times out of ten, the work of her husband.
+
+First convince her of the necessity of moderation in expense; make her
+clearly see the justice of beginning to act upon the presumption that
+there are children coming. The great danger of all is beginning with a
+servant. The wife is young, and why is she not to work as well as her
+husband? If the wife be not able to do all the work to be done in the
+house, she ought not to have been able to marry.
+
+The next thing to be attended to is your demeanour towards a young
+wife. The first frown that she receives from you is a dagger to her
+heart. Let nothing put you out of humour with her.
+
+Every husband who spends his leisure time in company other than that
+of his wife and family tells her and them that he takes more delight
+in other company than in theirs. Resolve from the very first never to
+spend an hour from home unless business or some necessary and rational
+purpose demand it. If you are called away your wife ought to be fully
+apprised of the probable duration of the absence and of the time of
+return. When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding
+day, how can a just man think anything a trifle that affects her
+happiness?
+
+Though these considerations may demand from us the kindest possible
+treatment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful deportment at
+her hands. A husband under command is the most contemptible of God's
+creatures. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recommending disregard of
+the wife's opinions and wishes? By no means. But the very nature of
+things prescribes that there must be a head of every house, and an
+undivided authority. The wife ought to be heard, and patiently heard;
+she ought to be reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced; but if she
+remain opposed to the husband's opinion, his will must be obeyed.
+
+I now come to that great bane of families--jealousy. One thing every
+husband can do in the way of prevention, and that is to give no
+ground for it. Few characters are more despicable than that of a
+jealous-headed husband, and that, not because he has grounds, but
+because he has not grounds.
+
+If to be happy in the married state requires these precautions, you may
+ask: Is it not better to remain single? The cares and troubles of the
+married life are many, but are those of the single life few? Without
+wives men are poor, helpless mortals.
+
+As to the expense, I firmly believe that a farmer married at
+twenty-five, and having ten children during the first ten years, would
+be able to save more money during these years than a bachelor of the
+same age would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like space of
+time. The bachelor has no one on whom he can in all cases rely. To me,
+no being in this world appears so wretched as he.
+
+
+_V.--To a Father_
+
+It is yourself that you see in your children. They are the great and
+unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of your prime of life,
+and the props of your old age. From the very beginning ensure in them,
+if possible, an ardent love for their mother. Your first duty towards
+them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life from any
+breast but hers. That is their own; it is their birthright.
+
+The man who is to gain a living by his labour must be drawn away from
+home; but this will not, if he be made of good stuff, prevent him from
+doing his share of the duty due to his children. There ought to be no
+toils, no watchings, no breakings of rest, imposed by this duty, of
+which he ought not to perform his full share, and that, too, without
+grudging. The working man, in whatever line, and whether in town or
+country, who spends his day of rest away from his wife and children is
+not worthy of the name of father.
+
+The first thing in the rearing of children who have passed from the
+baby state is, as to the body, plenty of good food; and, as to the
+mind, constant good example in the parents. There is no other reason
+for the people in the American states being generally so much taller
+and stronger than the people in England are, but that, from their
+birth, they have an abundance of good food; not only of food, but of
+rich food. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unimportant matter,
+for a tall man is worth more than a short man. Good food, and plenty of
+it, is not more necessary to the forming of a stout and able body than
+to the forming of an active and enterprising spirit. Children should
+eat often, and as much as they like at a time. They will never take, of
+plain food, more than it is good for them to take.
+
+The next thing after good and plentiful and plain food is good air.
+Besides sweet air, children want exercise. Even when they are babies in
+arms they want tossing and pulling about, and talking and singing to.
+They will, when they begin, take, if you let them alone, just as much
+exercise as nature bids them, and no more.
+
+I am of opinion that it is injurious to the mind to press book-learning
+upon a child at an early age. I must impress my opinion upon every
+father that his children's happiness ought to be his first object;
+that book-learning, if it tend to militate against this, ought to be
+disregarded. A man may read books for ever and be an ignorant creature
+at last, and even the more ignorant for his reading.
+
+And with regard to young women, everlasting book-reading is absolutely
+a vice. When they once get into the habit they neglect all other
+matters, and, in some cases, even their very dress. Attending to the
+affairs of the house--to the washing, the baking, the brewing, the
+cooking of victuals, the management of the poultry and the garden,
+these are their proper occupations.
+
+
+_VI.--To the Citizen_
+
+Having now given my advice to the youth, the man, the lover, the
+husband, and the father, I shall tender it to the citizen. To act well
+our part as citizens we ought clearly to understand what our rights
+are; for on our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights going
+before duties, as value received goes before payments. The great right
+of all is the right of taking a part in the making of the laws by which
+we are governed.
+
+It is the duty of every man to defend his country against an enemy, a
+duty imposed by the law of nature as well as by that of civil society.
+Yet how are you to maintain that this is the duty of every man if you
+deny to some men the enjoyment of a share in making the laws? The poor
+man has a body and a soul as well as the rich man; like the latter, he
+has parents, wife, and children; a bullet or a sword is as deadly to
+him as to the rich man; yet, notwithstanding this equality, he is to
+risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of
+rights! Why are the poor to risk their lives? To uphold the laws and
+to protect property--property of which they are said to possess none?
+What! compel men to come forth and risk their lives for the protection
+of property, and then in the same breath tell them that they are not
+allowed to share in the making of the laws, because, and only because,
+they have no property!
+
+Here, young man of sense and of spirit, here is the point on which you
+are to take your stand. There are always men enough to plead the cause
+of the rich, and to echo the woes of the fallen great; but be it your
+part to show compassion for those who labour, and to maintain their
+rights.
+
+If the right to have a share in making the laws were merely a feather,
+if it were a fanciful thing, if it were only a speculative theory, if
+it were but an abstract principle, it might be considered as of little
+importance. But it is none of these; it is a practical matter. Who lets
+another man put his hand into his purse when he pleases? It is the
+first duty of every man to do all in his power to maintain this right
+of self-government where it exists, and to restore it where it has been
+lost. Men are in such a case labouring, not for the present day only,
+but for ages to come. If life should not allow them time to see their
+endeavours crowned, their children will see it.
+
+
+
+
+DANIEL DEFOE
+
+A Journal of the Plague Year
+
+  "A Journal of the Plague Year" appeared in 1722. In its second
+  edition it received the title of "A History of the Plague." This
+  book was suggested by the public anxiety caused by a fearful
+  visitation of the plague at Marseilles in the two preceding
+  years. As an account of the epidemic in London, it has all the
+  vividness of Defoe's fiction, while it is acknowledged to be
+  historically accurate. (Defoe biography, see Vol. III, p. 26.)
+
+
+_I.--A Stricken City_
+
+It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest
+of my neighbours, heard that the plague was returned again in Holland.
+We had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days to spread
+rumours and reports of things; but such things as these were gathered
+from the letters of merchants, and from them were handed about by word
+of mouth only. In December, two Frenchmen died of the plague in Long
+Acre, or, rather, at the upper end of Drury Lane. The secretaries
+of state got knowledge of it, and two physicians and a surgeon were
+ordered to go to the house and make inspection. This they did, and,
+finding evident tokens of the sickness upon both the bodies, they gave
+their opinions publicly, that they died of the plague; whereupon it was
+given in to the parish clerk, and he also returned them to the Hall;
+and it was printed in the weekly bill of mortality in the usual manner,
+thus:
+
+    Plague, 2; Parishes infected, 1.
+
+The distemper spread slowly, and in the beginning of May, the city
+being healthy, we began to hope that as the infection was chiefly among
+the people at the other end of the town, it might go no further. We
+continued in these hopes for a few days, but it was only for a few,
+for the people were no more to be deceived thus; they searched the
+houses, and found that the plague was really spread every way, and that
+many died of it every day; and accordingly, in the weekly bill for
+the next week, the thing began to show itself. There was, indeed, but
+fourteen set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and collusion.
+
+Now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in June the
+infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rose high. Yet all
+that could conceal their distempers did it to prevent their neighbours
+shunning them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses.
+
+I lived without Aldgate, midway between Aldgate church and Whitechapel
+Bars, and our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end
+of the town their consternation was very great, and the richer sort
+of people, especially the nobility and gentry, from the west part of
+the city, thronged out of town with their families and servants. In
+Whitechapel, where I lived, nothing was to be seen but waggons and
+carts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc., all hurrying away.
+This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and it filled me
+with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city.
+
+I now began to consider seriously how I should dispose of myself,
+whether I should resolve to stay in London, or shut up my house and
+flee. I had two important things before me: the carrying on of my
+business and shop, and the preservation of my life in so dismal a
+calamity. My trade was a saddler, and though a single man, I had a
+family of servants and a house and warehouses filled with goods, and to
+leave them all without any overseer had been to hazard the loss of all
+I had in the world.
+
+I had resolved to go; but, one way or other, I always found that to
+appoint to go away was always crossed by some accident or other, so as
+to disappoint and put it off again; and I advise every person, in such
+a case, to keep his eye upon the particular providences which occur
+at that time, and take them as intimations from Heaven of what is his
+unquestioned duty to do in such a case. Add to this, that, turning over
+the Bible which lay before me, I cried out, "Well, I know not what
+to do; Lord, direct me!" and at that juncture, casting my eye down,
+I read: "Thou shalt not be afraid for the pestilence that walketh in
+darkness.... A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy
+right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee." I scarce need tell the
+reader that from that moment I resolved that I would stay in the town,
+casting myself entirely upon the protection of the Almighty.
+
+The court removed in the month of June, and went to Oxford, where it
+pleased God to preserve them; for which I cannot say they showed any
+great token of thankfulness, and hardly anything of reformation, though
+they did not want being told that their crying voices might, without
+breach of charity, have gone far in bringing that terrible judgment
+upon the whole nation.
+
+A blazing star or comet had appeared for several months before the
+plague, and there had been universal melancholy apprehensions of some
+dreadful calamity. The people were at this time more addicted to
+prophecies, dreams, and old wives' fables, than ever they were before
+or since. Some ran about the streets with oral predictions, one crying,
+"Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed!" Another poor naked
+creature cried, "Oh, the great and dreadful God!" repeating these words
+continually, with voice and countenance full of horror, and a swift
+pace, and nobody could ever find him to stop. Some saw a flaming sword
+in a hand coming out of a cloud; others, hearses and coffins in the
+air; others, heaps of dead bodies unburied. But those who were really
+serious and religious applied themselves in a truly Christian manner to
+the proper work of repentance and humiliation. Many consciences were
+awakened, many hard hearts melted into tears. People might be heard in
+the streets as we passed along, calling upon God for mercy, and saying,
+"I have been a thief," or "a murderer," and the like; and none dared
+stop to make the least inquiry into such things, or to comfort the poor
+creatures that thus cried out. The face of London was now strangely
+altered; it was all in tears; the shrieks of women and children at the
+windows and doors, where their dearest relations were dead, were enough
+to pierce the stoutest heart.
+
+About June, the lord mayor and aldermen began more particularly to
+concern themselves for the regulation of the city, by the shutting up
+of houses. Examiners were appointed in every parish to order the house
+to be shut up wherever any person sick of the infection was found. A
+night watchman and a day watchman were appointed to each infected house
+to prevent any person from coming out or going into the same. Women
+searchers were appointed in each parish to examine the bodies of such
+as were dead, to see if they had died of the infection, and over these
+were appointed physicians and chirurgeons. Other orders were made with
+regard to giving notice of sickness, sequestration of the sick, airing
+the goods and bedding of the infected, burial of the dead, cleansing
+of the streets, forbidding wandering beggars, loose persons, and idle
+assemblages, and the like. One of these orders was--"That every house
+visited be marked with a red cross of a foot long, in the middle of the
+door, with these words, 'LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US,' to be set close over
+the same cross." Many got out of their houses by stratagem after they
+were shut up, and thus spread the plague; in one place they blowed up
+their watchman with gunpowder and burnt the poor fellow dreadfully, and
+while he made hideous cries, the whole family got out at the windows;
+others got out by bribing the watchman, and I have seen three watchmen
+publicly whipped through the streets for suffering people to go out.
+
+
+_II.--How the Dead Were Buried_
+
+I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, and
+when they dug the great pit in the churchyard of Aldgate I could not
+resist going to see it. A terrible pit it was, forty feet long, about
+sixteen wide, and in one part they dug it to near twenty feet deep,
+until they could go no deeper for the water. It was filled in just two
+weeks, when they had thrown into it 1,114 bodies from our own parish.
+
+I got admittance into the churchyard by the sexton, who at first
+refused me, but at last said: "Name of God, go in; depend upon it,
+'twill be a sermon to you, it may be the best that ever you heard. It
+is a speaking sight," says he; and with that he opened the door and
+said, "Go, if you will." I stood wavering for a good while, but just at
+that interval I saw two links come over from the end of the Minories,
+and heard the bellman, and then appeared a dead-cart coming over the
+streets, so I went in.
+
+The scene was awful and full of terror. The cart had in it sixteen or
+seventeen bodies; some were wrapped in sheets or rugs, some little
+other than naked, or so loose that what covering they had fell from
+them in the shooting out of the cart, and they fell quite naked among
+the rest. But the matter was not much to them, seeing they were all
+dead, and were to be huddled together into the common grave of mankind,
+as we may call it; for here was no difference made, but poor and rich
+went together. The cart was turned round, and the bodies shot into the
+pit promiscuously.
+
+There was following the cart a poor unhappy gentleman who fell down in
+a swoon when the bodies were shot into the pit. The buriers ran to him
+and took him up, and after he had come to himself, they led him away to
+the Pye tavern, over against the end of Houndsditch. His case lay so
+heavy on my mind that after I had gone home I must go out again into
+the street and go to the Pye tavern, to inquire what became of him.
+
+It was by this time one in the morning, and yet the poor gentleman was
+there. The people of the house were civil and obliging, but there was a
+dreadful set of fellows that used their house, and who, in the middle
+of all this horror, met there every night, and behaved with revelling
+and roaring extravagances, so that the master and mistress of the
+house were terrified at them. They sat in a room next the street, and
+as often as the dead-cart came along, they would open the windows and
+make impudent mocks and jeers at the sad lamentations of the people,
+especially if they heard the poor people call upon God to have mercy
+upon them.
+
+They were at this vile work when I came to the house, ridiculing the
+unfortunate man, and his sorrow for his wife and children, taunting him
+with want of courage to leap into the pit and go to Heaven with them,
+and adding profane and blasphemous expressions.
+
+I gently reproved them, being not unknown to two of them. But I cannot
+call to mind the abominable raillery which they returned to me, making
+a jest of my calling the plague the Hand of God. They continued this
+wretched course three or four days; but they were, every one of them,
+carried into the great pit before it was quite filled up.
+
+In my walks I had daily many dismal scenes before my eyes, as of
+persons falling dead in the streets, terrible shrieks and screechings
+of women, and the like. Passing through Tokenhouse Yard, in Lothbury,
+of a sudden a casement violently opened just over my head, and a woman
+gave three frightful screeches, and then cried: "Oh Death! Death!
+Death!" in a most inimitable tone, which struck me with horror and a
+chillness in my very blood. There was nobody to be seen in the whole
+street, neither did any other window open; for people had no curiosity
+now, nor could anybody help another. I went on into Bell Alley.
+
+Just in Bell Alley, at the right hand of the passage, there was a
+more terrible cry than that, and I could hear women and children run
+screaming about the rooms distracted. A garret window opened, and
+somebody from a window on the other side of the alley called and
+asked, "What is the matter?" upon which, from the first window it was
+answered: "O Lord, my old master has hanged himself!" The other asked
+again: "Is he quite dead?" And the first answered, "Ay, ay, quite
+dead--quite dead and cold."
+
+It is scarce credible what dreadful things happened every day, people
+in the rage of the distemper, or in the torment of their swellings,
+which was indeed intolerable, oftentimes laying violent hands on
+themselves, throwing themselves out at their windows, etc.; mothers
+murdering their own children in their lunacy; some dying of mere
+fright, without any infection; others frightened into despair, idiocy,
+or madness.
+
+There were a great many robberies and wicked practices committed even
+in this dreadful time. The power of avarice was so strong in some that
+they would run any hazard to steal and to plunder; and in houses where
+all the inhabitants had died and been carried out, they would break in
+without regard to the danger of infection, and take even the bedclothes.
+
+
+_III.--Universal Desolation_
+
+For about a month together, I believe there did not die less than 1,500
+or 1,700 a day, one day with another; and in the beginning of September
+good people began to think that God was resolved to make a full end of
+the people in this miserable city. Whole families, and, indeed, whole
+streets of families were swept away together, and the infection was so
+increased that at length they shut up no houses at all. People gave
+themselves up to their fears, and thought that nothing was to be hoped
+for but an universal desolation. It was even in the height of this
+despair that it pleased God to stay His hand, and to slacken the fury
+of the contagion.
+
+When the people despaired of life and abandoned themselves, it had a
+very strange effect for three or four weeks; it made them bold and
+venturous; they were no more shy of one another, nor restrained within
+doors, but went anywhere and everywhere, and ran desperately into
+any company. It brought them to crowd into the churches; looking on
+themselves as all so many dead corpses, they behaved as if their lives
+were of no consequence, compared to the work which they came about
+there.
+
+The conduct of the lord mayor and magistrates was all the time
+admirable, so that bread was always to be had in plenty, and cheap
+as usual; provisions were never wanting in the markets; the streets
+were kept free from all manner of frightful objects--dead bodies, or
+anything unpleasant; and for a time fires were kept burning in the
+streets to cleanse the air of infection.
+
+Many remedies were tried; but it is my opinion, and I must leave it as
+a prescription, that the best physic against the plague is to run away
+from it. I know people encourage themselves by saying, "God is able to
+keep us in the midst of danger," and this kept thousands in the town,
+whose carcasses went into the great pits by cart-loads. Yet of the
+pious ladies who went about distributing alms to the poor, and visiting
+infected families, though I will not undertake to say that none of
+those charitable people were suffered to fall under the calamity, yet I
+may say this, that I never knew any of them to fall under it.
+
+Such is the precipitant disposition of our people, that no sooner had
+they observed that the distemper was not so catching as formerly, and
+that if it was catched it was not so mortal, and that abundance of
+people who really fell sick recovered again daily, than they made no
+more of the plague than of an ordinary fever, nor indeed so much. They
+went into the very chambers where others lay sick. This rash conduct
+cost a great many their lives, who had been preserved all through the
+heat of the infection, and the bills of mortality increased again four
+hundred in the first week of November.
+
+But it pleased God, by the continuing of wintry weather, so to restore
+the health of the city that by February following we reckoned the
+distemper quite ceased. The time was not far off when the city was to
+be purged with fire, for within nine months more I saw it all lying in
+ashes.
+
+I shall conclude the account of this calamitous year with a stanza of
+my own:
+
+    A dreadful plague in London was
+      In the year sixty-five,
+    Which swept an hundred thousand souls
+      Away; yet I alive!
+
+
+
+
+DEMOSTHENES
+
+The Philippics
+
+  Demosthenes, by universal consensus of opinion the greatest
+  orator the world has known, was born at Athens 385 B.C. and
+  died 322 B.C. His birth took place just nineteen years after
+  the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War. Losing his father when
+  he was yet a child, his wealth was frittered away by three
+  faithless guardians, whom he prosecuted when he came of age.
+  This dispute, and some other struggles, led him into public
+  life, and by indomitable perseverance he overcame the difficulty
+  constituted by certain physical disqualifications. Identifying
+  himself for life entirely with the interests of Athens, he became
+  the foremost administrator in the state, as well as its most
+  eloquent orator. His stainless character, his matchless powers
+  of advocacy, his fervent patriotism, and his fine diplomacy,
+  render him altogether one of the noblest figures of antiquity.
+  His fame rests mainly on "The Philippics"; those magnificent
+  orations delivered during a series of several years against the
+  aggressions of Philip of Macedon; though the three "Olynthiacs,"
+  and the oration "De Corona," and several other speeches are
+  monumental of the genius of Demosthenes, more especially the "De
+  Corona." He continued to resist the Macedonian domination during
+  the career of Alexander the Great, and was exiled, dying, it is
+  supposed, by poison administered by himself, at Calauria. (Cf.
+  also p. 273 of this volume.) This epitome has been prepared from
+  the original Greek.
+
+
+_I.--"Men of Athens, Arouse Yourselves!"_
+
+The subject under discussion on this occasion, men of Athens, is not
+new, and there would be no need to speak further on it if other orators
+deliberated wisely. First, I advise you not to regard the present
+aspect of affairs, miserable though it truly is, as entirely hopeless.
+For the primary cause of the failure is your own mismanagement. If any
+consider it difficult to overcome Philip because of the power that he
+has attained, and because of our disastrous loss of many fortresses,
+they should remember how much he has gained by achieving alliances.
+
+If, now, you will emulate his policy, if every citizen will devote
+himself assiduously to the service of his country, you will assuredly
+recover all that has been lost, and punish Philip. For he has his
+enemies, even among his pretended friends. All dread him because your
+inertia has prevented you from providing any refuge for them. Hence the
+height of arrogance which he now displays and the constantly expanding
+area of his conquests.
+
+When, men of Athens, will you realise that your attitude is the cause
+of this situation? For you idle about, indulging in gossip over
+circumstances, instead of grappling with the actualities. Were this
+antagonist to pass away, another enemy like him would speedily be
+produced by your policy, for Philip is what he is not so much through
+his own prowess as through your own indifference.
+
+As to the plan of action to be initiated, I say that we must inaugurate
+it by providing fifty triremes, also the cavalry and transports and
+boats needed for the fleet. Thus we should be fully prepared to cope
+with the sudden excursions of Philip to Thermopylae or any other point.
+Besides this naval force, you should equip an army of 2,000 foot
+soldiers, of whom 500 should be Athenians, the remainder mercenaries,
+together with 250 cavalry, including 50 Athenians. Lastly, we should
+have an auxiliary naval contingent of ten swift galleys.
+
+We are now conducting affairs farcically. For we act neither as if
+we were at peace, nor as if we had entered on a war. You enlist your
+soldiers not for warfare, but for religious pageants, and for parades
+and processions in the market-place. We must consolidate our resources,
+embody permanent forces, not temporary levies hastily enlisted, and
+we must secure winter quarters for our troops in those islands which
+possess harbours and granaries for the corn.
+
+No longer, men of Athens, must you continue the mere discussion of
+measures without ever executing any of your projects. Remember that
+Philip sustains his power by drawing on the resources of your own
+allies.
+
+But by adopting my plan you will at one and the same time deprive him
+of his chief sources of supply, and place yourselves out of the reach
+of danger. The policy he has hitherto pursued will be effectually
+thwarted. No longer will he be able to capture your citizens, as he did
+by attacking Lemnos and Imbros, or to seize your Paralus, as he did on
+his descent at Marathon.
+
+But, men of Athens, you spend far larger sums of money on the splendid
+Panathenaic and Dionysian festivals than on your naval and military
+armaments. Moreover, those festivals are always punctually celebrated,
+while your preparations for war are always behindhand. Then, when a
+critical juncture arrives, we find our forces are totally inadequate to
+the emergency.
+
+Having larger resources than any other state, you, Athenians, have
+never adequately availed yourselves of them. You never anticipate the
+movements of Philip, but simply drift after him, sending forces to
+Thermopylae if you hear he is there, or to any other quarter where he
+may happen to be. Such policy might formerly be excused, but now it
+is as disgraceful as it is intolerable. Are we to wait for Philip's
+aggressiveness to cease? It never will do so unless we resist it. Shall
+we not assume the offensive and descend on his coast with some of our
+forces?
+
+Nothing will result from mere oratory and from mutual recrimination
+among ourselves. My own conviction is that Philip is encouraged by our
+inertia, and that he is carried away by his own successes, but that he
+has no fixed plan of action that can be guessed by foolish chatterers.
+Men of Athens, let us for the future abandon such an attitude, and let
+us bear in mind that we must depend not on the help of others, but on
+ourselves alone. Unless we go to attack Philip where he is, Philip will
+come to attack us where we are.
+
+
+_II.--Beware the Guile of Philip_
+
+Nothing, men of Athens, is done as a sequel to the speeches which
+are delivered and approved concerning the outrageous proceedings of
+Philip. You are earnest in discussion; he is earnest in action. If we
+are to be complacently content because we employ the better arguments,
+well and good; but if we are successfully to resist this formidable
+and increasing power, we must be prepared to entertain advice that is
+salutary, however unpalatable, rather than counsel which is easy and
+pleasant.
+
+If you give me any credit for clear perception, I beg you to attend
+to what I plead. After subduing Thermopylae and the Phocians, Philip
+quickly apprehended that you could not be induced by any selfish
+considerations to abandon other Greek states to him. The Thebans,
+Messenians, and Argives he lured by bribes. But he knew how, in
+the past, your predecessors scorned the overtures of his ancestor,
+Alexander of Macedon, sent by Mardonius the Persian to induce the
+Athenians to betray the rest of the Greeks. It was not so with the
+Argives and the Thebans, and thus Philip calculates that their
+successors will care nothing for the interests of the Greeks generally.
+So he favours them, but not you.
+
+Everything demonstrates Philip's animosity against Athens. He is
+instinctively aware that you are conscious of his plots against
+you, and ascribes to you a feeling of hatred against him. Eager to
+be beforehand with us, he continues to negotiate with Thebans and
+Peloponnesians, assuming that they may be beguiled with ease.
+
+I call to mind how I addressed the Messenians and the Argives,
+reminding them how Philip had dishonourably given certain of their
+territories to the Olynthians. Would the Olynthians then have listened
+to any disparagements of Philip? Assuredly not. Yet they were soon
+shamefully betrayed and cheated by him. It is unsafe for commonwealths
+to place confidence in despots. In like manner were the Thessalians
+deceived when he had ejected their tyrants and had restored to
+them Nicasa and Magnesia, for he instituted the new tyranny of the
+Decemvirate. Philip is equally ready with gifts and promises on the one
+hand, and with fraud and deceit on the other.
+
+"By Jupiter," said I to those auditors, "the only infallible defence of
+democracies against despots is the absolute refusal of all confidence
+in them. Always to mistrust them is the only safeguard. What is it that
+you seek to secure? Liberty? Then do you not perceive that the very
+titles worn by Philip prove him to be adverse to this? For every king
+and tyrant is an enemy to freedom and an opponent to laws."
+
+But though my speeches and those of other emissaries were received
+with vociferous applause, all the same those who thus manifested
+profound approbation will never be able to resist the blandishments and
+overtures of Philip. It may well be so with those other Greeks. But
+you, O Athenians, surely should understand your own interests better.
+For otherwise irreparable disaster must ensue.
+
+In justice, men of Athens, you should summon the men who communicated
+to you the promises which induced you to consent to peace. Their
+statements misled us; otherwise, neither would I have gone as
+ambassador, nor would you have ceased hostilities. Also, you should
+call those who, after my return from my second embassy, contradicted my
+report. I then protested against the abandonment of Thermopylae and of
+the Phocians.
+
+They ridiculed me as a water-drinker, and they persuaded you that
+Philip would cede to you Oropus and Euboea in exchange for Amphipolis,
+and also that he would humble the Thebans and at his own charges cut
+through the Chersonese. Your anger will be excited in due time when
+you realise what you have hitherto disregarded, namely, that these
+projects on the part of Philip are devised against Athens.
+
+Though all know it only too well, let me remind you who it was,
+even AEschines himself, who induced you by his persuasion to abandon
+Thermopylae and Phocis. By possessing control over these, Philip now
+commands also the road to Attica and Peloponnesus.
+
+Hence the present situation is this, that you must now consider,
+not distant affairs, but the means of defending your homes and of
+conducting a war in Attica, that war having become inevitable through
+those events, grievous though it will be to every citizen when it
+begins. May the gods grant that the worst fears be not fully confirmed!
+
+
+_III.--Athens Must Head the War_
+
+Various circumstances, men of Athens, have reduced our affairs to the
+worst possible state, this lamentable crisis being due mainly to the
+specious orators who seek rather to please you than wisely to guide
+you. Flattery has generated perilous complacency, and now the position
+is one of extreme danger. I am willing either to preserve silence,
+or to speak frankly, according to your disposition. Yet all may be
+repaired if you awaken to your duty, for Philip has not conquered you;
+you have simply made no real effort against him.
+
+Strange to say, while Philip is actually seizing cities and
+appropriating various portions of our territory, some among us affirm
+that there is really no war. Thus, caution is needed in speech, for
+those who suggest defensive measures may afterwards be indicted for
+causing hostilities. Now, let those who maintain that we are at peace
+propose a resolution for suitable plans. But if you are invaded by an
+armed aggressor, who pretends to be at peace with you, what can you do
+but initiate measures of defence?
+
+Both sides may profess to be at peace, and I do not demur; but it
+is madness to style that a condition of peace which allows Philip
+to subjugate all other states and then to assail you last of all.
+His method of proceeding is to prepare to attack you, while securing
+immunity from the danger of being attacked by you.
+
+If we wait for him to declare war, we wait in vain. For he will treat
+us as he did the Olynthians and the Phocians. Professing to be their
+ally, he appropriated territories belonging to them. Do you imagine
+he would declare war against you before commencing operations of
+encroachment? Never, so long as he knows that you are willing to be
+deceived.
+
+By a series of operations he has been infringing the peace: by his
+attempt to seize Megara, by his intervention in Euboea, by his excursion
+into Thrace. I reckon that the virtual beginnings of hostilities
+must be dated from the day that he completed the subjugation of the
+Thracians. From your other orators I differ in deeming any discussion
+irrelevant respecting the Chersonese or Byzantium. Aid these, indeed;
+but let the safety of all Greece alike be the subject of your
+deliberations.
+
+What I would emphasise is that to Philip have been conceded liberties
+of encroachment and aggression, by you first of all, such as in former
+days were always contested by war. He has attacked and enslaved city
+after city of the Greeks. You Athenians were for seventy-three years
+the supreme leaders in Hellas, as were the Spartans for twenty-nine
+years. Then after the battle of Leuctra the Thebans acquired paramount
+influence. But neither you nor these others ever arrogated the right to
+act according to your pleasure.
+
+If you appeared to act superciliously towards any state, all the other
+states sided with that one which was aggrieved. Yet all the errors
+committed by our predecessors and by those of the Spartans during the
+whole of that century were trivial compared with the wrongs perpetrated
+by Philip during these thirteen years. Cruel has been his destruction
+of Olynthus, of Methone, of Apollonia, and of thirty-two cities on the
+borders of Thrace, and also the extermination of the Phocians. And now
+he domineers ruthlessly over Thessaly and Euboea. Yet all we Greeks of
+various nationalities are in so abjectly miserable a condition that,
+instead of arranging embassies and declaring our indignation, we
+entrench ourselves in isolation in our several cities.
+
+It must be reflected that when wrongs were inflicted by other states,
+by us or the Spartans, these faults were at any rate committed by
+genuine sons of Greece. How much more hateful is the offence when
+perpetrated against a household by a slave or an alien than by a son or
+other member of the family! But Philip is not only no son of Hellas; he
+is not even a reputable barbarian, but only a vile fellow of Macedon,
+a country from which formerly even a respectable slave could not be
+purchased!
+
+What is lacking to his unspeakable arrogance? Does he not assemble the
+Pythian games, command Thermopylae, garrison the passes, secure prior
+access to the oracle at Delphi, and dictate the form of government for
+Thessaly? All this the Greeks look upon with toleration; they seem
+to regard it as they would some tempest, each hoping it will fall on
+someone else. We are all passive and despondent, mutually distrusting
+each other instead of the common foe.
+
+How different the noble spirit of former days! How different that old
+passion for liberty which is now superseded by the love of servitude!
+Then corruption was so deeply detested that there was no pardon for
+the guilt of bribery. Now venality is laughed at and bribery goes
+unpunished. In ships, men, equipment, and revenues our resources are
+larger than ever before, but corruption neutralises them all.
+
+But preparations for war are not sufficient. You must not only be ready
+to encounter the foes without, but must punish those who among you are
+the creatures of Philip, like those who caused the ruin of Olynthus by
+betraying the cavalry and by securing the banishment of Apollonides.
+Similar treachery brought about the downfall of other cities. The same
+fate may befall us. What, then, must be done?
+
+When we have done all that is needful for our own defence, let us next
+send our emissaries to all the other states with the intelligence
+that we are ready. If you imagine that others will save Greece while
+you avoid the conflict, you cherish a fatal delusion. This enterprise
+devolves on you; you inherit it from your ancestors.
+
+
+_IV.--Exterminate the Traitors!_
+
+Men of Athens, your chief misfortune is that, though for the passing
+moment you heed important news, you speedily scatter and forget what
+you have just heard. You have become fully acquainted with the doings
+of Philip, and you well know how great is his ambition; and yet, so
+profound has been our indifference that we have earned the contempt
+of several other states, which now prefer to undertake their defence
+separately rather than in alliance with us.
+
+You must become more deeply convinced than you have been hitherto that
+our destruction is the supreme anxiety of Philip. The special object of
+his hatred is your democratic constitution. Our mode of procedure is a
+mockery, for we are always behind in the execution of our schemes. You
+must form a permanent army with a regular organisation, and with funds
+sufficient for its maintenance.
+
+Most of all, money is needed to meet coming requirements. There was a
+time when money was forthcoming and everything necessary was performed.
+Why do we now decline to do our duty? In a time of peril to the
+commonwealth the affluent should freely contribute of their possessions
+for the welfare of the country; but each class has its obligations to
+the state and should observe them.
+
+Many and inveterate are the causes of our present difficulties. You, O
+Athenians, have surrendered the august position which your predecessors
+bequeathed you, and have indolently permitted a stranger to usurp it.
+The present crisis involves peril for all the states, but to Athens
+most of all; and that not so much on account of Philip's schemes of
+conquest, as of your neglect.
+
+How is it, Athenians, that none affirm concerning Philip that he is
+guilty of aggression, even while he is seizing cities, while those
+who advise resistance are indicated as inciting to war? The reason is
+that those who have been corrupted believe that if you do resist him
+you will overcome him, and they can no longer secure the reward of
+treachery.
+
+Remember what you have at stake. Should you fall under the dominion
+of Philip, he will show you no pity, for his desire is not merely to
+subdue Athens, but to destroy it. The struggle will be to the death;
+therefore, those who would sell the country to him you must exterminate
+without scruple. This is the only city where such treacherous citizens
+can dare to speak in his favour. Only here may a man safely accept a
+bribe and openly address the people.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH WALDO EMERSON
+
+English Traits
+
+  In 1847 Emerson (see Vol. XIII, p. 339) made his second visit to
+  England, this time on a lecturing tour. An outcome of the visit
+  was "English Traits," which was first published in 1856. "I leave
+  England," he wrote on his return home, "with an increased respect
+  for the Englishman. His stuff or substance seems to be the best
+  in the world." "English Traits" deals with a series of definite
+  subjects which do not admit of much philosophic digression, and
+  there is, therefore, an absence of the flashes of spiritual and
+  poetic insight which gave Emerson his charm.
+
+
+_I.--The Anchorage of Britain_
+
+I did not go very willingly to England. I am not a good traveller, nor
+have I found that long journeys yield a fair share of reasonable hours.
+I find a sea-life an acquired taste, like that for tomatoes and olives.
+The sea is masculine, the type of active strength. Look what egg-shells
+are drifting all over it, each one filled with men in ecstasies of
+terror alternating with cockney conceit, as it is rough or smooth. But
+to the geologist the sea is the only firmament; it is the land that is
+in perpetual flux and change. It has been said that the King of England
+would consult his dignity by giving audience to foreign ambassadors in
+the cabin of a man-of-war; and I think the white path of an Atlantic
+ship is the right avenue to the palace-front of this seafaring people.
+
+England is a garden. Under an ash-coloured sky, the fields have been
+combed and rolled till they appear to have been finished with a pencil
+instead of a plough. Rivers, hills, valleys, the sea itself, feel the
+hand of a master. The problem of the traveller landing in Liverpool
+is, Why England is England? What are the elements of that power which
+the English hold over other nations? If there be one test of national
+genius universally accepted, it is success; and if there be one
+successful country in the universe that country is England.
+
+The culture of the day, the thoughts and aims of men, are English
+thoughts and aims. A nation considerable for a thousand years has in
+the last centuries obtained the ascendant, and stamped the knowledge,
+activity, and power of mankind with its impress.
+
+The territory has a singular perfection. Neither hot nor cold, there is
+no hour in the whole year when one cannot work. The only drawback to
+industrial conveniency is the darkness of the sky. The night and day
+are too nearly of a colour.
+
+England resembles a ship in shape, and, if it were one, its best
+admiral could not have anchored it in a more judicious or effective
+position. The shop-keeping nation, to use a shop word, has a good
+stand. It is anchored at the side of Europe, and right in the heart of
+the modern world.
+
+In variety of surface Britain is a miniature of Europe, as if Nature
+had given it an artificial completeness. It is as if Nature had held
+counsel with herself and said: "My Romans are gone. To build my new
+empire I will choose a rude race, all masculine, with brutish strength.
+Sharp and temperate northern breezes shall blow to keep them alive
+and alert. The sea shall disjoin the people from others and knit them
+by a fierce nationality. Long time will I keep them on their feet, by
+poverty, border-wars, seafaring, sea-risks, and stimulus of gain." A
+singular coincidence to this geographic centrality is the spiritual
+centrality which Emanuel Swedenborg ascribes to the people: "The
+English nation are in the centre of all Christians, because they have
+an interior intellectual light. This light they derive from the liberty
+of speaking and writing, and thereby of thinking."
+
+
+_II.--Racial Characteristics_
+
+The British Empire is reckoned to contain a fifth of the population
+of the globe; but what makes the British census proper important is
+the quality of the units that compose it. They are free, forcible men
+in a country where life has reached the greatest value. They have
+sound bodies and supreme endurance in war and in labour. They have
+assimilating force, since they are imitated by their foreign subjects;
+and they are still aggressive and propagandist, enlarging the dominion
+of their arts and liberty.
+
+The English composite character betrays a mixed origin. Everything
+English is a fusion of distant and antagonistic elements. The language
+is mixed; the currents of thought are counter; contemplation and
+practical skill; active intellect and dead conservatism; world-wide
+enterprise and devoted use and wont; a country of extremes--nothing in
+it can be praised without damning exceptions, and nothing denounced
+without salvos of cordial praise.
+
+The sources from which tradition derives its stock are mainly three:
+First, the Celtic--a people of hidden and precarious genius; second,
+the Germans, a people about whom, in the old empire, the rumour ran
+there was never any that meddled with them that repented it not; and,
+third, the Norsemen and the children out of France. Twenty thousand
+thieves landed at Hastings. These founders of the House of Lords were
+greedy and ferocious dragoons, sons of greedy and ferocious pirates.
+Such, however, is the illusion of antiquity and wealth that decent and
+dignified men now existing actually boast their descent from these
+filthy thieves.
+
+As soon as this land, thus geographically posted, got a hardy people
+into it, they could not help becoming the sailors and factors of the
+world. The English, at the present day, have great vigour of body.
+They are round, ruddy, and handsome, with a tendency to stout and
+powerful frames. It is the fault of their forms that they grow stocky,
+but in all ages they are a handsome race, and please by an expression
+blending good nature, valour, refinement, and an uncorrupt youth in the
+face of manhood.
+
+The English are rather manly than warlike. They delight in the
+antagonism which combines in one person the extremes of courage and
+tenderness. Nelson, dying at Trafalgar, says, "Kiss me, Hardy," and
+turns to sleep. Even for their highwaymen this virtue is claimed, and
+Robin Hood is the gentlest thief. But they know where their war-dogs
+lie, and Cromwell, Blake, Marlborough, Nelson, and Wellington are not
+to be trifled with.
+
+They have vigorous health and last well into middle and old age. They
+have more constitutional energy than any other people. They box,
+run, shoot, ride, row, and sail from Pole to Pole. They are the most
+voracious people of prey that have ever existed, and they have written
+the game-books of all countries.
+
+These Saxons are the hands of mankind--the world's wealth-makers. They
+have that temperament which resists every means employed to make its
+possessor subservient to others. The English game is main force to main
+force, the planting of foot to foot, fair play and an open field--a
+rough tug without trick or dodging till one or both comes to pieces.
+They hate craft and subtlety; and when they have pounded each other to
+a poultice they will shake hands and be friends for the remainder of
+their lives.
+
+Their realistic logic of coupling means to ends has given them the
+leadership of the modern world. Montesquieu said: "No people have true
+commonsense but those who are born in England." This commonsense is
+a perception of laws that cannot be stated, or that are learned only
+by practice, with allowance for friction. The bias of the nation is
+a passion for utility. They are heavy at the fine arts, but adroit at
+the coarse. The Frenchman invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the
+shirt. They think him the best-dressed man whose dress is so fit for
+his use that you cannot notice or remember to describe it.
+
+In war the Englishman looks to his means; but, conscious that no
+better race of men exists, they rely most on the simplest means. They
+fundamentally believe that the best stratagem in naval war is to bring
+your ship alongside of the enemy's ship, and bring all your guns to
+bear on him until you or he go to the bottom. This is the old fashion
+which never goes out of fashion.
+
+Tacitus said of the Germans: "Powerful only in sudden efforts, they are
+impatient of toil and labour." This highly destined race, if it had
+not somewhere added the chamber of patience to its brain, would not
+have built London. I know not from which of the tribes and temperaments
+that went to the composition of the people this tenacity was supplied,
+but they clinch every nail they drive. "To show capacity," a Frenchman
+described as the end of speech in a debate. "No," said an Englishman,
+"but to advance the business."
+
+The nation sits in the immense city they have builded--a London
+extended into every man's mind. The modern world is theirs. They have
+made and make it day by day. In every path of practical ability they
+have gone even with the best. There is no department of literature, of
+science, or of useful art in which they have not produced a first-rate
+book. It is England whose opinion is waited for. English trade exists
+to make well everything which is ill-made elsewhere. Steam is almost an
+Englishman.
+
+One secret of the power of this people is their mutual good
+understanding. Not only good minds are born among them, but all the
+people have good minds. An electric touch by any of their national
+ideas melts them into one family. The chancellor carries England on
+his mace, the midshipman at the point of his dirk, the smith on his
+hammer, the cook in the bowl of his spoon, and the sailor times his
+oars to "God save the King!"
+
+I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in
+his shoes. The one thing the English value is pluck. The word is
+not beautiful, but on the quality they signify by it the nation is
+unanimous. The cabmen have it, the merchants have it, the bishops have
+it, the women have it, the journals have it. They require you to dare
+to be of your own opinion, and they hate the practical cowards who
+cannot answer directly Yes or No.
+
+Their vigour appears in the incuriosity and stony neglect each of the
+other. Each man walks, eats, drinks, shaves, dresses, gesticulates,
+and in every manner acts and suffers, without reference to the
+bystanders--he is really occupied with his own affairs, and does not
+think of them. In short, every one of these islanders is an island
+himself, safe, tranquil, incommunicable.
+
+Born in a harsh and wet climate, which keeps him indoors whenever he is
+at rest, and, being of an affectionate and loyal temper, the Englishman
+dearly loves his home. If he is rich he builds a hall, and brings to
+it trophies of the adventures and exploits of the family, till it
+becomes a museum of heirlooms. England produces, under favourable
+conditions of ease and culture, the finest women in the world. Nothing
+can be more delicate without being fantastical, than the courtship and
+mutual carriage of the sexes. Domesticity is the taproot which enables
+the nation to branch wide and high. In an aristocratical country
+like England, not the trial by jury, but the dinner is the capital
+institution. It is the mode of doing honour to a stranger to ask him to
+eat.
+
+The practical power of the English rests on their sincerity. Alfred,
+whom the affection of the nation makes the type of their race, is
+called by a writer at the Norman Conquest, the "truth-speaker." The
+phrase of the lowest of the people is "honour-bright," and their
+praise, "his word is as good as his bond." They confide in each
+other--English believes in English. Madame de Stael says that the
+English irritated Napoleon mainly because they have found out how to
+unite success with honesty. The ruling passion of an Englishman is a
+terror of humbug.
+
+The English race are reputed morose. They have enjoyed a reputation for
+taciturnity for six or seven hundred years. Cold, repressive manners
+prevail, and there is a wooden deadness in certain Englishmen which
+surpasses all other countrymen. In the power of saying rude truth
+no men rival them. They are proud and private, and even if disposed
+to recreation will avoid an open garden. They are full of coarse
+strength, butcher's meat, and sound sleep. They are good lovers, good
+haters, slow but obstinate admirers, and very much steeped in their
+temperament, like men hardly awaked from deep sleep which they enjoy.
+
+The English have a mild aspect, and ringing, cheerful voice. Of
+absolute stoutness of spirit, no nation has more or better examples.
+They are good at storming redoubts, at boarding frigates, at dying in
+the last ditch, or any desperate service which has daylight and honour
+in it. They stoutly carry into every nook and corner of the earth
+their turbulent sense of inquiry, leaving no lie uncontradicted, no
+pretension unexamined.
+
+They are very conscious of their advantageous position in history. I
+suppose that all men of English blood in America, Europe, or Asia, have
+a secret feeling of joy that they are not Frenchmen. They only are not
+foreigners. In short, I am afraid that the English nature is so rank
+and aggressive as to be a little incompatible with any other. The world
+is not wide enough for two. More intellectual than other races, when
+they live with other races they do not take their language, but bestow
+their own. They subsidise other nations, and are not subsidised. They
+proselytise and are not proselytised. They assimilate other nations to
+themselves and are not assimilated.
+
+
+_III.--Wealth, Aristocracy, and Religion_
+
+There is no country in which so absolute a homage is paid to wealth.
+There is a mixture of religion in it. The Englishman esteems wealth a
+final certificate. He believes that every man has himself to thank if
+he does not mend his condition. To pay their debts is their national
+point of honour. The British armies are solvent, and pay for what they
+take. The British empire is solvent. It is their maxim that the weight
+of taxes must be calculated not by what is taken but by what is left.
+They say without shame: "I cannot afford it." Such is their enterprise,
+that there is enough wealth in England to support the entire population
+in idleness one year. The proudest result of this creation of wealth is
+that great and refined forces are put at the disposal of the private
+citizen, and in the social world the Englishman to-day has the best
+lot. I much prefer the condition of an English gentleman of the better
+class to that of any potentate in Europe.
+
+The feudal character of the English state, now that it is getting
+obsolete, glares a little in contrast with democratic tendencies. But
+the frame of society is aristocratic. Every man who becomes rich buys
+land, and does what he can to fortify the nobility, into which he hopes
+to rise. The taste of the people is conservative. They are proud of
+the castles, language, and symbols of chivalry. English history is
+aristocracy with the doors open. Who has courage and faculty, let him
+come in.
+
+All nobility in its beginnings was somebody's natural superiority. The
+things these English have done were not done without peril of life, nor
+without wisdom of conduct, and the first hands, it may be presumed,
+were often challenged to show their right to their honours, or yield
+them to better men.
+
+Comity, social talent, and fine manners no doubt have had their part
+also. The lawyer, the farmer, the silk mercer lies _perdu_ under the
+coronet, and winks to the antiquary to say nothing. They were nobody's
+sons who did some piece of work at a nice moment.
+
+The English names are excellent--they spread an atmosphere of legendary
+melody over the land. Older than epics and histories, which clothe
+a nation, this undershirt sits close to the body. What stores of
+primitive and savage observation it infolds! Cambridge is the bridge
+of the Cam; Sheffield the field of the river Sheaf; Leicester the camp
+of Lear; Waltham is Strong Town; Radcliffe is Red Cliff, and so on--a
+sincerity and use in naming very striking to an American, whose country
+is whitewashed all over with unmeaning names, the cast-off clothes of
+the country from which the emigrants came, or named at a pinch from a
+psalm tune.
+
+In seeing old castles and cathedrals I sometimes say: "This was built
+by another and a better race than any that now look on it." Their
+architecture still glows with faith in immortality. Good churches are
+not built by bad men; at least, there must be probity and enthusiasm
+somewhere in society.
+
+England felt the full heat of the Christianity which fermented Europe,
+and, like the chemistry of fire, drew a firm line between barbarism
+and culture. When the Saxon instinct had secured a service in the
+vernacular tongue the Church was the tutor and university of the people.
+
+Now the Anglican Church is marked by the grace and good sense of its
+forms; by the manly grace of its clergy. The gospel it preaches is "By
+taste are ye saved." The religion of England is part of good breeding.
+When you see on the Continent the well-dressed Englishman come into
+his ambassador's chapel and put his face for silent prayer into his
+well-brushed hat, you cannot help feeling how much national pride prays
+with him, and the religion of a gentleman.
+
+At this moment the Church is much to be pitied. If a bishop meets an
+intelligent gentleman and reads fatal interrogation in his eyes, he has
+no resource but to take wine with him.
+
+But the religion of England--is it the Established Church? No. Is it
+the sects? No. Where dwells the religion? Tell me first where dwells
+electricity, or motion, or thought? They do not dwell or stay at all.
+Electricity is passing, glancing, gesticular; it is a traveller, a
+newness, a secret. Yet, if religion be the doing of all good, and for
+its sake the suffering of all evil, that divine secret has existed in
+England from the days of Alfred to the days of Florence Nightingale,
+and in thousands who have no fame.
+
+
+
+
+Representative Men
+
+  Some of the lectures delivered by Emerson during his lecturing
+  tour in England were published in 1850 under the title of
+  "Representative Men," and the main trend of their thought
+  and opinion is here followed in Emerson's own words. It will
+  be noted that the use of the term "sceptic," as applied to
+  Montaigne, is not the ordinary use of the word, but signifies
+  a person spontaneously given to free inquiry rather than
+  aggressive disbelief. The estimate of Napoleon is original. In
+  "Representative Men" Emerson is much more consecutive in his
+  thought than is customary with him. His pearls are as plentiful
+  here as elsewhere, but they are not scattered disconnectedly.
+
+
+_Plato_
+
+Among secular books, Plato only is entitled to Omar's fanatical
+compliment to the Koran: "Burn all books, for their value is in this
+book." Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated
+among men of thought. Plato is philosophy, and philosophy Plato. No
+wife, no children had he, but the thinkers of all civilised nations are
+his posterity, and are tinged with his mind.
+
+Great geniuses have the shortest biographies. They lived in their
+writings, and so their house and street life is commonplace. Their
+cousins can tell you nothing about them. Plato, especially, has no
+external biography.
+
+Plato stands between the truth and every man's mind, and has almost
+impressed language and the primary forms of thought with his name and
+seal.
+
+The first period of a nation, as of an individual, is the period of
+unconscious strength. Children cry, scream, and stamp with fury, unable
+to express their desires. As soon as they can speak and tell their
+wants they become gentle. With nations he is as a god to them who can
+rightly divide and define. This defining is philosophy. Philosophy is
+the account which the human mind gives to itself of the constitution of
+the world.
+
+Two cardinal facts lie ever at the base of thought: Unity and
+Variety--oneness and otherness.
+
+To this partiality the history of nations corresponds. The country of
+unity, faithful to the idea of a deaf, unimplorable, immense fate, is
+Asia; on the other side, the genius of Europe is active and creative.
+If the East loves infinity, the West delights in boundaries. Plato
+came to join and enhance the energy of each. The excellence of Europe
+and Asia is in his brain. No man ever more fully acknowledged the
+Ineffable; but having paid his homage, as for the human race, to the
+illimitable, he then stood erect, and for the human race affirmed:
+"And yet things are knowable!" Full of the genius of Europe, he said
+"Culture," he said "Nature," but he failed not to add, "There is also
+the divine."
+
+This leads us to the central figure which he has established in his
+academy. Socrates and Plato are the double-star which the most powerful
+instrument will not entirely separate. Socrates, in his traits and
+genius, is the best example of that synthesis which constitutes
+Plato's extraordinary power.
+
+Socrates, a man of humble stem, and a personal homeliness so remarkable
+as to be a cause of wit in others, was a cool fellow, with a knowledge
+of his man, be he whom he might whom he talked with, which laid
+the companion open to certain defeat in debate; and in debate he
+immoderately delighted. He was what in our country people call "an old
+one." This hard-headed humorist, whose drollery diverted the young
+patricians, turns out in the sequel to have a probity as invincible as
+his logic, and to be, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his
+religion. When accused before the judges, he affirmed the immortality
+of the soul and a future reward and punishment, and, refusing to
+recant, was condemned to die; he entered the prison and took away all
+ignominy from the place. The fame of this prison, the fame of the
+discourses there, and the drinking of the hemlock, are one of the most
+precious passages in the history of the world.
+
+The rare coincidence in one ugly body of the droll and the martyr, the
+keen street debater with the sweetest saint known to any history at
+that time, had forcibly struck the mind of Plato, and the figure of
+Socrates placed itself in the foreground of the scene as the fittest
+dispenser of the intellectual treasures he had to communicate.
+
+It remains to say that the defect of Plato is that he is literary,
+and never otherwise. His writings have not the vital authority which
+the screams of prophets and the sermons of unlettered Arabs and Jews
+possess.
+
+And he had not a system. The acutest German, the lovingest disciple
+could never tell what Platonism was. No power of genius has ever yet
+had the smallest success in explaining existence. The perfect enigma
+remains.
+
+
+_Montaigne_
+
+The philosophers affirm disdainfully the superiority of ideas. To
+men of this world the man of ideas appears out of his reason. The
+abstractionist and the materialist thus mutually exasperating each
+other, there arises a third party to occupy the middle ground between
+the two, the sceptic. He labours to be the beam of the balance. There
+is so much to say on all sides. This is the position occupied by
+Montaigne.
+
+In 1571, on the death of his father, he retired from the practice of
+the law, at Bordeaux, and settled himself on his estate. Downright
+and plain dealing, and abhorring to be deceived or to deceive, he was
+esteemed in the country for his sense and probity. In the civil wars of
+the League, which converted every house into a fort, Montaigne kept his
+gates open, and his house without defence. All parties freely came and
+went, his courage and honor being universally esteemed.
+
+Montaigne is the frankest and honestest of all writers. The essays are
+an entertaining soliloquy on every random topic that comes into his
+head, treating everything without ceremony, yet with masculine sense. I
+know not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is the language
+of conversation transferred to a book. Montaigne talks with shrewdness,
+knows the world, and books, and himself; never shrieks, or protests, or
+prays. He keeps the plain; he rarely mounts or sinks; he likes to feel
+solid ground and the stones underneath.
+
+We are natural believers. We are persuaded that a thread runs
+through all things, and all worlds are strung on it as beads. But
+though we reject a sour, dumpish unbelief, to the sceptical class,
+which Montaigne represents, every man at some time belongs. The
+ground occupied by the sceptic is the vestibule of the temple. The
+interrogation of custom at all points is an inevitable stage in
+the growth of every superior mind. It stands in the mind of the
+wise sceptic that our life in this world is not quite so easy of
+interpretation as churches and school books say. He does not wish to
+take ground against these benevolences, but he says: "There are doubts.
+Shall we, because good nature inclines us to virtue's side, say, 'There
+are no doubts--and lie for the right?' Is not the satisfaction of the
+doubts essential to all manliness?"
+
+I may play with the miscellany of facts, and take those superficial
+views which we call scepticism; but I know they will presently appear
+to me in that order which makes scepticism impossible. For the world is
+saturated with deity and law. Things seem to tend downward, to justify
+despondency, to promote rogues, to defeat the just; but by knaves as
+by martyrs the just cause is carried forward, and general ends are
+somewhat answered. The world-spirit is a good swimmer, and storms and
+waves cannot drown him. Through the years and the centuries, through
+evil agents, through toys and atoms, a great and beneficent tendency
+irresistibly streams. So let a man learn to look for the permanent in
+the mutable and fleeting; let him learn to bear the disappearance of
+things he was wont to reverence without losing his reverence.
+
+
+_Shakespeare_
+
+Shakespeare is the only biographer of Shakespeare. So far from
+Shakespeare being the least known, he is the one person in all modern
+history known to us. What point of morals, of manners, of economy,
+of philosophy, of taste, of conduct of life has he not settled?
+What district of man's work has he not remembered? What king has he
+not taught statecraft? What maiden has not found him finer than her
+delicacy? What lover has he not outloved?
+
+Some able and appreciating critics think no criticism on Shakespeare
+valuable that does not rest purely on the dramatic merit; that he is
+falsely judged as poet and philosopher. I think as highly as these
+critics of his dramatic merit, but still think it secondary. He was
+a full man who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and images,
+which, seeking vent, found the drama next at hand.
+
+Shakespeare is as much out of the category of eminent authors as he is
+out of the crowd. He is inconceivably wise; the others, conceivably.
+With this wisdom of life is the equal endowment of imaginative and
+lyric power. An omnipresent humanity co-ordinates all his faculties.
+He has no peculiarity, no importunate topic, but all is duly given. No
+mannerist is he; he has no discoverable egotism--the great he tells
+greatly, the small subordinately. He is wise without emphasis or
+assertion; he is strong as Nature is strong, who lifts the land into
+mountain slopes without effort, and by the same rule as she floats a
+bubble in the air, and likes as well to do the one as the other. This
+power of transferring the inmost truth of things into music and verse
+makes him the type of the poet.
+
+One royal trait that belongs to Shakespeare is his cheerfulness. He
+delights in the world, in man, in woman, for the lovely light that
+sparkles from them. Beauty, the spirit of joy, he sheds over the
+universe. If he appeared in any company of human souls, who would not
+march in his troop? He touches nothing that does not borrow health and
+longevity from his festal style. He was master of the revels to mankind.
+
+
+_Napoleon_
+
+Among the eminent persons of the nineteenth century, Bonaparte owes his
+predominance to the fidelity with which he expresses the aim of the
+masses of active and cultivated men. If Napoleon was Europe, it was
+because the people whom he swayed were little Napoleons. He is the
+representative of the class of industry and skill. "God has granted,"
+says the Koran, "to every people a prophet in its own tongue." Paris,
+London, and New York, the spirit of commerce, of money, of material
+power, were also to have their prophet--and Bonaparte was qualified and
+sent. He was the idol of common men because he, in transcendent degree,
+had the qualities and powers of common men. He came to his own and they
+received him.
+
+An Italian proverb declares that if you would succeed you must not be
+too good. Napoleon renounced, once for all, sentiments and affections,
+and helped himself with his hands and his head. The art of war was the
+game in which he exerted his arithmetic. He had a directness of action
+never before combined with so much comprehension. History is full of
+the imbecility of kings and governors. They are a class of persons to
+be much pitied, for they know not what they should do. But Napoleon
+understood his business. He knew what to do, and he flew to his mark.
+He put out all his strength; he risked everything; he spared nothing;
+he went to the edge of his possibilities.
+
+This vigour was guarded and tempered by the coldest prudence and
+punctuality. His very attack was never the inspiration of courage, but
+the result of calculation. The necessity of his position required a
+hospitality to every sort of talent, and his feeling went along with
+this policy. In fact, every species of merit was sought and advanced
+under his government. Seventeen men in his time were raised from
+common soldiers to the rank of king, marshal, duke, or general. I call
+Napoleon the agent or attorney of the middle class of modern society.
+
+His life was an experiment, under the most favourable conditions, of
+the powers of intellect without conscience. All passed away, like the
+smoke of his artillery, and left no trace. He did all that in him lay
+to live and thrive without moral principle.
+
+
+_Goethe_
+
+I find a provision in the constitution of the world for the writer or
+secretary who is to report the doings of the miraculous spirit of life
+that everywhere throbs and works. Nature will be reported. All things
+are engaged in writing their history. The planet goes attended by its
+shadow. The air is full of sounds, the sky of tokens; the ground is all
+memoranda and signatures.
+
+Society has really no graver interest than the well-being of the
+literary class. Still, the writer does not stand with us on any
+commanding ground. I think this to be his own fault. There have been
+times when he was a sacred person; he wrote Bibles; the first hymns;
+the codes; the epics; tragic songs; Sibylline verses; Chaldaean oracles.
+Every word was true, and woke the nations to new life. How can he be
+honoured when he is a sycophant ducking to the giddy opinion of a
+reckless public?
+
+Goethe was the philosopher of the nineteenth century multitude,
+hundred-handed, Argus-eyed, able and happy to cope with the century's
+rolling miscellany of facts and sciences, and by his own versatility
+dispose of them with ease; and what he says of religion, of passion,
+of marriage, of manners, of property, of paper-money, of periods of
+belief, of omens, of luck, of whatever else, refuses to be forgotten.
+
+What distinguishes Goethe, for French and English readers, is an
+habitual reference to interior truth. But I dare not say that Goethe
+ascended to the highest grounds from which genius has spoken. He is
+incapable of self-surrender to the moral sentiment. Goethe can never
+be dear to men. His is a devotion to truth for the sake of culture.
+But the idea of absolute eternal truth, without reference to my own
+enlargement by it is higher; and the surrender to the torrent of poetic
+inspiration is higher.
+
+
+
+
+ERASMUS
+
+Familiar Colloquies
+
+  Desiderius Erasmus, the most learned ecclesiastic of the
+  fifteenth century, and the friend of Luther and other reformers,
+  was born at Rotterdam on October 28, 1466, and died at Basel on
+  July 12, 1536. He was the son of a Dutchman named Gerard, and,
+  according to the fashion of the age, changed his family name
+  into its respective Latin and Greek equivalents, Desiderius and
+  Erasmus, meaning "desired," or "loved." Entering the priesthood
+  in 1492, he pursued his studies at Paris, and became so renowned
+  a scholar that he was, on visiting England, received with
+  distinction, not only at the universities, but also by the king.
+  For some time Erasmus settled in Italy, brilliant prospects being
+  held out to him at Rome; but his restless temperament impelled
+  him to wander again, and he came again to England, where he
+  associated with the most distinguished scholars, including Dean
+  Colet and Sir Thomas More. Perhaps nothing in the whole range
+  of mediaeval literature made a greater sensation immediately on
+  its appearance, in 1521, than the "Colloquia," or "Familiar
+  Colloquies Concerning Men, Manners, and Things," of Erasmus. As
+  its title indicates, it consists of dialogues, and its author
+  intended it to make youths more proficient in Latin, that
+  language being the chief vehicle of intercommunication in the
+  Middle Ages. But Erasmus claims, in his preface, that another
+  purpose of the book is to make better men as well as better
+  Latinists, for he says: "If the ancient teachers of children are
+  commended who allured the young with wafers, I think it ought
+  not to be charged on me that by the like reward I allure youths
+  either to the elegancy of the Latin tongue or to piety." This
+  selection is made from the Latin text.
+
+
+_Concerning Men, Manners and Things_
+
+Erasmus issued his first edition of the "Colloquies" in 1521.
+Successive editions appeared with great rapidity. Its popularity
+wherever Latin was read was immense, but it was condemned by the
+Sarbonne, prohibited in France, and devoted to the flames publicly
+in Spain. The reader of its extraordinary chapters will not fail
+to comprehend that such a fate was inevitable in the case of such a
+production in those times. For, as the friend of the reformers who were
+"turning the world upside down," Erasmus in this treatise penned the
+most audacious, sardonic, and withering onslaught ever delivered by
+any writer on ecclesiastical corruption of religion. He never attacks
+religion itself, but extols and defends it; his aim is to launch a
+series of terrific innuendoes on ecclesiasticism as it had developed
+and as he saw it. He satirically, and even virulently, attacks monks
+and many of their habits, the whole system of cloister-life, the
+festivals and pilgrimages which formed one of the chief features of
+religious activity, and the grotesque superstitions which his peculiar
+genius for eloquent irony so well qualified him to caricature.
+
+This great work, one of the epoch-making books of the world, consists
+of sixty-two "Colloquies," of very varying length. They treat of the
+most curiously diverse topics, as may be imagined from such titles of
+the chapters as "The Youth's Piety," "The Lover and the Maiden," "The
+Shipwreck," "The Epithalamium of Peter Egidius," "The Alchemist," "The
+Horse Cheat," "The Cyclops, or the Gospel Carrier," "The Assembly or
+Parliament of Women," "Concerning Early Rising."
+
+A sample of the style of the "Colloquies" in the more serious sections
+may be taken from the one entitled "The Religious Banquet."
+
+NEPHEW: How unwillingly have I seen many Christians die. Some put their
+trust in things not to be confided in; others breathe out their souls
+in desperation, either out of a consciousness of their lewd lives, or
+by reason of scruples that have been injected into their minds, even in
+their dying hours, by some indiscreet men, die almost in despair.
+
+CHRYSOGLOTTUS: It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent
+their lives in philosophising all their lives about ceremonies.
+
+NEPHEW: What do you mean by ceremonies?
+
+CHRYSOGLOTTUS: I will tell you, but with protestation beforehand,
+over and over, that I do not find fault with the rites and sacraments
+of the Church, but rather highly approve of them; but I blame a
+wicked and superstitious sort of people who teach people to put their
+confidence in these things, omitting those things that make them truly
+Christians. If you look into Christians in common, do they not live as
+if the whole sum of religion consisted in ceremonies? With how much
+pomp are the ancient rites of the Church set forth in baptism? The
+infant waits without the church door, the exorcism is performed, the
+catechism is performed, vows are made, Satan is abjured with all his
+pomps and pleasures; then the child is anointed, signed, seasoned with
+salt, dipped, a charge given to its sureties to see it well brought
+up; and the oblation money being paid, they are discharged, and by
+this time the child passes for a Christian, and in some sense is so. A
+little time after it is anointed again, and in time learns to confess,
+receive the sacrament, is accustomed to rest on holy days, to hear
+divine service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from flesh; and if he
+observes all these he passes for an absolute Christian. He marries a
+wife, and then comes on another sacrament; he enters into holy orders,
+is anointed again and consecrated, his habit is changed, and then to
+prayers.
+
+Now, I approve of the doing of all this well enough, but the doing
+of them more out of custom than conscience I do not approve. But to
+think that nothing else is requisite for the making of a Christian I
+absolutely disapprove. For the greater part of the men in the world
+trust to these things, and think they have nothing else to do but get
+wealth by right or wrong, to gratify their passions of lust, rage,
+malice, ambition. And this they do till they come on their death-bed.
+And then follow more ceremonies--confession upon confession more
+unction still, the eucharists are administered; tapers, the cross, the
+holy water are brought in; indulgences are procured, if they are to be
+had for love or money; and orders are given for a magnificent funeral.
+Now, although these things may be well enough, as they are done in
+conformity to ecclesiastical customs, yet there are some more internal
+impressions which have an efficacy to fortify us against the assaults
+of death by filling our hearts with joy, and helping us to go out of
+the world with a Christian assurance.
+
+EUSEBIUS: When I was in England I saw St. Thomas' tomb all over
+bedecked with a vast number of jewels of an immense price, besides
+other rich furniture, even to admiration. I had rather that these
+superfluities should be applied to charitable uses than to be reserved
+for princes that shall one time or other make a booty of them. The holy
+man, I am confident, would have been better pleased to have had his
+tomb adorned with leaves and flowers.... Rich men, nowadays, will have
+their monuments in churches, whereas in time past they could hardly get
+room for their saints there. If I were a priest or a bishop, I would
+put it into the head of these thick-skulled courtiers or merchants
+that if they would atone for their sins to Almighty God they should
+privately bestow their liberality on the relief of the poor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A wonderful plea for peace, in shape of an exquisite satire, is the
+"Colloquy" entitled "Charon." It is a dialogue between Charon, the
+ghostly boatman on the River Styx, and Genius Alastor. Its style may be
+gathered from the following excerpt.
+
+CHARON: Whither are you going so brisk, and in such haste, Alastor?
+
+ALASTOR: O Charon, you come in the nick of time; I was coming to you.
+
+CHARON: Well, what news do you bring?
+
+ALASTOR: I bring a message to you and Prosperine that you will be glad
+to hear. All the Furies have been no less diligent than they have been
+successful in gaining their point. There is not one foot of ground
+upon earth that they have not infected with their hellish calamities,
+seditions, wars, robberies, and plagues. Do you get your boat and your
+oars ready; you will have such a vast multitude of ghosts come to you
+anon that I am afraid you will not be able to carry them all over
+yourself.
+
+CHARON: I could have told you that.
+
+ALASTOR: How came you to know it?
+
+CHARON: Ossa brought me that news about two days ago!
+
+ALASTOR: Nothing is more swift than that goddess. But what makes you
+loitering here, having left your boat?
+
+CHARON: My business brought me hither. I came hither to provide myself
+with a good strong three-oared boat, for my boat is so rotten and leaky
+with age that it will not carry such a burden, if Ossa told me true.
+
+ALASTOR: What was it that Ossa told you?
+
+CHARON: That the three monarchs of the world were bent upon each
+other's destruction with a mortal hatred, and that no part of
+Christendom was free from the rage of war; for these three have drawn
+in all the rest to be engaged in the war with them. They are all so
+haughty that not one of them will in the least submit to the other.
+Nor are the Danes, the Poles, the Scots, nor the Turks at quiet, but
+are preparing to make dreadful havoc. The plague rages everywhere: in
+Spain, Britain, Italy, France; and, more than all, there is a new fire
+sprung out of the variety of opinions, which has so corrupted the minds
+of all men that there is no such thing as sincere friendship anywhere;
+but brother is at enmity with brother, and husband and wife cannot
+agree. And it is to be hoped that this distraction will be a glorious
+destruction of mankind, if these controversies, that are now managed by
+the tongue and pen, come once to be decided by arms.
+
+ALASTOR: All that fame has told you is true; for I myself, having been
+a constant companion of the Furies, have with these eyes seen more than
+all this, and that they never at any time have approved themselves more
+worthy of their name than now.
+
+CHARON: But there is danger lest some good spirit should start up and
+of a sudden exhort them to peace. And men's minds are variable, for
+I have heard that among the living there is one Polygraphus who is
+continually, by his writing, inveighing against wars, and exhorting to
+peace.
+
+ALASTOR: Ay, ay, but he has a long time been talking to the deaf. He
+once wrote a sort of hue and cry after peace, that was banished or
+driven away; after that an epitaph upon peace defunct. But then, on the
+other hand, there are others that advance our cause no less than do
+the Furies themselves. They are a sort of animals in black and white
+vestments, ash-coloured coats, and various other dresses, that are
+always hovering about the courts of the princes, and are continually
+instilling into their ears the love of war, and exhorting the nobility
+and common people to it, haranguing them in their sermons that it is a
+just, holy, and religious war. And that which would make you stand in
+admiration at the confidence of these men is the cry of both parties.
+In France they preach it up that God is on the French side, and that
+they can never be overcome that has God for their protector. In
+England and Spain the cry is, "The war is not the king's, but God's";
+therefore, if they do but fight like men, they depend on getting the
+victory, and if anyone should chance to fall in the battle, he will not
+die, but fly directly up into heaven, arms and all.
+
+
+
+
+In Praise of Folly
+
+  "The Praise of Folly" was written in Latin, and the title,
+  "Encomium Moriae," is a pun on the name of his friend, the Greek
+  word _moria_ (folly) curiously corresponding with his host's
+  family name. The purpose of this inimitable satire is to cover
+  every species of foolish men and women with ridicule. Yet through
+  all the biting sarcasm runs an unbroken vein of religious
+  seriousness, the contrast greatly enhancing the impression
+  produced by this masterpiece.
+
+
+_I.--Stultitia's Declamation_
+
+In whatever manner I, the Goddess of Folly, may be generally spoken of
+by mortals, yet I assert it emphatically that it is from me, Stultitia,
+and from my influence only, that gods and men derive all mirth and
+cheerfulness. You laugh, I see. Well, even that is a telling argument
+in my favour. Actually now, in this most numerous assembly, as soon as
+ever I have opened my mouth, the countenances of all have instantly
+brightened up with fresh and unwonted hilarity, whereas but a few
+moments ago you were all looking demure and woebegone.
+
+On my very brow my name is written. No one would take me, Stultitia,
+for Minerva. No one would contend that I am the Goddess of Wisdom. The
+mere expression of my countenance tells its own tale. Not only am I
+incapable of deceit, but even those who are under my sway are incapable
+of deceit likewise. From my illustrious sire, Plutus [Wealth], I glory
+to be sprung, for he, and no other, was the great progenitor of gods
+and men, and I care not what Hesiod, or Homer, or even Jupiter himself
+may maintain to the contrary. Everything, I affirm, is subjected to the
+control of Plutus. War, peace, empires, designs, judicial decisions,
+weddings, treaties, alliances, laws, arts, things ludicrous and things
+serious, are all administered in obedience to his sovereign will.
+
+Now notice the admirable foresight which nature exercises, in order
+to ensure that men shall never be destitute of folly as the principal
+ingredient in their constitution. Wisdom, as your divines and moralists
+put it, consists in men being guided by their reason; and folly, in
+their being actuated by their passions. See then here what Jupiter
+has done. In order to prevent the life of man from being utterly
+intolerable, he has endowed him with reason in singularly small
+proportion to his passions--only, so to speak, as a half-ounce is to a
+pound. And whereas he has dispersed his passions over every portion of
+his body, he has confined his reason to a narrow little crevice in his
+skull.
+
+And yet, of these silly human beings, the male sex is born under the
+necessity of transacting the business of the world. When Jupiter was
+taking counsel with me I advised him to add a woman to the man--a
+creature foolish and frivolous, but full of laughter and sweetness,
+who would season and sweeten by her folly the sadness of his manly
+intelligence.
+
+When Plato doubted whether or not he should place women in the class
+of rational animals, he really only wished to indicate the remarkable
+silliness of that sex. Yet women will not be so absolutely senseless as
+to be offended if I, a woman myself, the goddess Stultitia, tell them
+thus plainly that they are fools. They will, if they look at the matter
+aright, be flattered by it. For they are by many degrees more favoured
+creatures than men. They have beauty--and oh, what a gift is that! By
+its power they rule the rulers of the world.
+
+The supreme wish of women is to win the admiration of men, and they
+have no more effectual means to this end than folly. Men, no doubt,
+will contend that it is the pleasure they have in women's society, and
+not their folly, that attracts them. I answer that their pleasure is
+folly, and nothing but folly, in which they delight. You see, then,
+from what fountain is derived the highest and most exquisite enjoyment
+that falls to man's lot in life. But there are some men (waning old
+crones, most of them) who love their glasses better than the lasses,
+and place their chief delight in tippling. Others love to make fools
+of themselves to raise a laugh at a feast, and I beg to say that of
+laughter, fun, and pleasantry, I--Folly--am the sole purveyor.
+
+
+_II.--The Mockery of Wisdom_
+
+So much for the notion that wisdom is of any use in the pleasures of
+life. Well, the next thing that our gods of wisdom will assert is that
+wisdom is necessary for affairs of state. Says Plato, "Those states
+will prosper whose rulers are guided by the spirit of philosophy." With
+this opinion I totally disagree. Consult history, and it will tell you
+that the two Catos, Brutus, Cassius, the Gracchi, Cicero, and Marcus
+Antoninus all disturbed the tranquillity of the state and brought down
+on them by their philosophy the disgust and disfavour of the citizens.
+And who are the men who are most prone, from weariness of life, to
+seek to put an end to it? Why, men of reputed wisdom. Not to mention
+Diogenes, the Catos, the Cassii, and the Bruti, there is the remarkable
+case of Chiron, who, though he actually had immortality conferred on
+him, voluntarily preferred death.
+
+You see, then, that if men were universally wise, the world would be
+depopulated, and there would be need of a new creation. But, since the
+world generally is under the influence of folly and not of wisdom, the
+case is, happily, different. I, Folly, by inspiring men with hopes
+of good things they will never get, so charm away their woes that
+they are far from wishing to die. Nay, the less cause there is for
+them to desire to live, the more, nevertheless, do they love life. It
+is of my bounty that you see everywhere men of Nestorean longevity,
+mumbling, without brains, without teeth, whose hair is white, whose
+heads are bald, so enamoured of life, so eager to look youthful, that
+they use dyes, wigs, and other disguises, and take to wife some frisky
+heifer of a creature; while aged and cadaverous-looking women are seen
+caterwauling, and, as the Greeks express it, behaving goatishly, in
+order to induce some beauteous Phaon to pay court to them.
+
+As to the wisdom of the learned professions, the more empty-headed and
+the more reckless any member of any one of them is, the more he will be
+thought of. The physician is always in request, and yet medicine, as it
+is now frequently practised, is nothing but a system of pure humbug.
+Next in repute to the physicians stand the pettifogging lawyers, who
+are, according to the philosophers, a set of asses. And asses, I grant
+you that, they are. Nevertheless, it is by the will and pleasure of
+these asses that the business of the world is transacted, and they make
+fortunes while the poor theologians starve.
+
+By the immortal gods, I solemnly swear to you that the happiest men
+are those whom the world calls fools, simpletons, and blockheads. For
+they are entirely devoid of the fear of death. They have no accusing
+consciences to make them fear it. They are, happily, without the
+experience of the thousands of cares that lacerate the minds of other
+men. They feel no shame, no solicitude, no ambition, no envy, no love.
+And, according to the theologians, they are free from any imputation of
+the guilt of sin! Ah, ye besotted men of wisdom, you need no further
+evidence than the ills you have gone through to convince you from what
+a mass of calamities I have delivered my idiotic favourites.
+
+To be deceived, people say, is wretched. But I hold that what is most
+wretched is not to be deceived. They are in great error who imagine
+that a man's happiness consists in things as they are. No; it consists
+entirely in his opinion of what they are. Man is so constituted that
+falsehood is far more agreeable to him than truth.
+
+Does anyone need proof of this? Let him visit the churches, and
+assuredly he will find it. If solemn truth is dwelt on, the listeners
+at once become weary, yawn, and sleep; but if the orator begins some
+silly tale, they are all attention. And the saints they prefer to
+appeal to are those whose histories are most made up of fable and
+romance. Though to be deceived adds much more to your happiness than
+not to be deceived, it yet costs you much less trouble.
+
+And now to pass to another argument in my favour. Among all the praises
+of Bacchus this is the chief, that he drives away care; but he does it
+only for a short time, and then all your care comes again. How much
+more complete are the benefits mankind derive from me! I also afford
+them intoxication, but an intoxication whose influence is perennial,
+and all, too, without cost to them. And my favours I deny to nobody.
+Mars, Apollo, Saturn, Phoebus, and Neptune are more chary of their
+bounties and dole them out to their favourites only but I confine my
+favours to none.
+
+
+_III.--Classification of Fools_
+
+Of all the men whose doings I have witnessed, the most sordid are men
+of trade, and appropriately so, for they handle money, a very sordid
+thing indeed. Yet, though they lie, pilfer, cheat, and impose on
+everybody, as soon as they grow rich they are looked up to as princes.
+But as I look round among the various classes of men, I specially note
+those who are esteemed to possess more than ordinary sagacity. Among
+these a foremost place is occupied by the schoolmasters. How miserable
+would these be were it not that I, Folly, of my benevolence, ameliorate
+their wretchedness and render them insanely happy in the midst of their
+drudgery! Their lot is one of semi-starvation and of debasing slavery.
+In the schools, those bridewells of uproar and confusion, they grow
+prematurely old and broken down, Yet, thanks to my good services, they
+know not their own misery. For in their own estimation they are mighty
+fine fellows, strutting about and striking terror into the hearts of
+trembling urchins, half scarifying the little wretches with straps,
+canes, and birches. They are, apparently, quite unconscious of the dust
+and dirt with which their schoolrooms are polluted. In fact, their own
+most wretched servitude is to them a kingdom of felicity.
+
+The poets owe less to me. Yet they, too, are enthusiastic devotees of
+mine, for their entire business consists in tickling the ears of fools
+with silly ditties and ridiculously romantic tales. Of the services of
+my attendants, Philautia [Self-approbation] and Kolakia [Flattery],
+they never fail to avail themselves, and really I do not know that
+there is any other class of men in the world amongst whom I should find
+more devoted and constant followers.
+
+Moreover, there are the rhetoricians. Quintilian, the prince of them
+all, has written an immense chapter on no more serious subject than
+how to excite a laugh. Those, again, who hunt after immortal fame in
+the domain of literature unquestionably belong to my fraternity. Poor
+fellows! They pass a wretched existence poring over their manuscripts,
+and for what reward? For the praise of the very, very limited few who
+are capable of appreciating their erudition.
+
+Very naturally, the barristers merit our attention next. Talk of
+female garrulity! Why, I would back any one of them to win a prize for
+chattering against any twenty of the most talkative women that you
+could pick out. And well indeed would it be if they had no worse fault
+than that. I am bound to say that they are not only loquacious, but
+pugnacious. Their quarrelsomeness is astounding.
+
+After these come the bearded and gowned philosophers. Their insane
+self-deception as to their sagacity and learning is very delightful.
+They beguile their time with computing the magnitude of the sun,
+moon, and stars, and they assign causes for all the phenomena of the
+universe, as if nature had initiated them into all her secrets. In
+reality they know nothing, but profess to know everything.
+
+
+_IV.--On Princes and Pontiffs_
+
+It is high time that I should say a few words to you about kings and
+the royal princes belonging to their courts. Very different are they
+from those whom I have just been describing, who pretend to be wise
+when they are the reverse, for these high personages frankly and openly
+live a life of folly, and it is just that I should give them their
+due, and frankly and openly tell them so. They seem to regard it to be
+the duty of a king to addict himself to the chase; to keep up a grand
+stud of horses; to extract as much money as possible from the people;
+to caress by every means in his power the vulgar populace, in order to
+win their good graces, and so make them the subservient tools of his
+tyrannical behests.
+
+As for the grandees of the court, a more servile, insipid, empty-headed
+set than the generality of them you will fail to find anywhere. Yet
+they wish to be regarded as the greatest personalities on earth. Not a
+very modest wish, and yet, in one respect, they are modest enough. For
+instance, they wish to be bedecked with gold and gems and purple, and
+other external symbols of worth and wisdom, but nothing further do they
+require.
+
+These courtiers, however, are superlatively happy in the belief that
+they are perfectly virtuous. They lie in bed till noon. Then they
+summon their chaplain to their bedside to offer up the sacrifice of
+the mass, and as the hireling priest goes through his solemn farce
+with perfunctory rapidity, they, meanwhile, have all but dropped
+off again into a comfortable condition of slumber. After this they
+betake themselves to breakfast; and that is scarcely over when dinner
+supervenes. And then come their pastimes--their dice, their cards, and
+their gambling--their merriment with jesters and buffoons, and their
+gallantries with court favourites.
+
+Next let us turn our attention to popes, cardinals, and bishops, who
+have long rivalled, if they do not surpass, the state and magnificence
+of princes. If bishops did but bear in mind that a pastoral staff is an
+emblem of pastoral duties, and that the cross solemnly carried before
+them is a reminder of the earnestness with which they should strive
+to crucify the flesh, their lot would be one replete with sadness and
+solicitude. As things are, a right bonny time do they spend, providing
+abundant pasturage for themselves, and leaving their flocks to the
+negligent charge of so-called friars and vicars.
+
+Fortune favours the fool. We colloquially speak of him and such as him
+as "lucky birds," while, when we speak of a wise man, we proverbially
+describe him as one who has been "born under an evil star," and as one
+whose "horse will never carry him to the front." If you wish to get a
+wife, mind, above all things, that you beware of wisdom; for the girls,
+without exception, are heart and soul so devoted to fools, that you may
+rely on it a man who has any wisdom in him they will shun as they would
+a vampire.
+
+And now, to sum up much in a few words, go among what classes of men
+you will, go among popes, princes, cardinals, judges, magistrates,
+friends, foes, great men, little men, and you will not fail to find
+that a man with plenty of money at his command has it in his power to
+obtain everything that he sets his heart upon. A wise man, however,
+despises money. And what is the consequence? Everyone despises him!
+
+
+
+
+GESTA ROMANORUM
+
+A Story-Book of the Middle Ages
+
+  The "Gesta Romanorum," or "Deeds of the Romans," a quaint
+  collection of moral tales compiled by the monks, was used in
+  the Middle Ages for pulpit instruction. Hence the curious
+  "Applications" to the stories, two of which are here given as
+  examples. Wynkyn de Worde was the first to print the "Gesta" in
+  English, about 1510. His version is based on Latin manuscripts
+  of English origin, and differs from the first edition, and from
+  the Latin text printed abroad about 1473. The stories have
+  little to do with authentic Roman history, and abound in amusing
+  confusions, contradictions, and anachronisms. But their interest
+  is undeniable, and they form the source of many famous pieces of
+  English literature. In the English "Gesta" occur the originals of
+  the bond and casket incidents in "The Merchant of Venice."
+
+
+_I.--Of Love_
+
+Pompey was a wise and powerful king. He had one well-beloved daughter,
+who was very beautiful. Her he committed to the care of five soldiers,
+who were to guard her night and day. Before the door of the princess's
+chamber they hung a burning lamp, and, moreover, they kept a
+loud-barking dog to rouse them from sleep. But the lady panted for the
+pleasures of the world, and one day, looking abroad, she was espied by
+a certain amorous duke, who made her many fair promises.
+
+Hoping much from these, the princess slew the dog, put out the light,
+and fled by night with the duke. Now, there was in the palace a certain
+doughty champion, who pursued the fugitives and beheaded the duke. He
+brought the lady home again; but her father would not see her, and
+thenceforward she passed her time bewailing her misdeeds.
+
+Now, at court there was a wise and skilful mediator, who, being moved
+with compassion, reconciled the lady with her father and betrothed
+her to a powerful nobleman. The king then gave his daughter diverse
+gifts. These were a rich, flowing tunic inscribed with the words,
+"Forgiven. Sin no more"; and a golden coronet with the legend, "Thy
+dignity is from me." Her champion gave her a ring, engraved, "I have
+loved thee; learn thou to love." Likewise the mediator bestowed a ring,
+saying, "What have I done? How much? Why?" A third ring was given by
+the king's son, with the words: "Despise not thy nobility." A fourth
+ring, from her brother, bore the motto: "Approach! Fear not. I am thy
+brother." Her husband gave a golden coronet, confirming his wife in
+the inheritance of his possessions, and superscribed: "Now thou are
+espoused, sin no more."
+
+The lady kept these gifts as long as she lived. She regained the
+affections of those whom her folly had estranged, and closed her days
+in peace.
+
+
+APPLICATION
+
+My beloved, the king is our Heavenly Father; the daughter is the soul;
+the guardian soldiers are the five senses; the lamp is the will; the
+dog is conscience; the duke is the Evil One. The mediator is Christ.
+The cloak is our Lord's wounded body. The champion and the brother are
+likewise Christ; the coronet is His crown of thorns; the rings are the
+wounds in His hands and feet. He is also the Spouse. Let us study to
+keep these gifts uninjured.
+
+
+_II.--Of Fidelity_
+
+The subject of a certain king, being captured by pirates, wrote to
+his father for ransom; but the father refused, and the youth was
+left wasting in prison. Now, his captor had a beautiful and virtuous
+daughter, who came to comfort the prisoner. At first he was too
+disconsolate to listen to her, but at length he begged her to try
+to set him free. The lady feared her father's wrath, but at last, on
+promise of marriage, she freed the young man, and fled with him to his
+own country. His father said, "Son, I am overjoyed at thy return, but
+who is the lady under thy escort?"
+
+When his son told him, he charged him, on pain of losing his
+inheritance, not to marry her.
+
+"But she released me from deadly peril," said the youth.
+
+The father answered, "Son, thou mayest not confide in her, for she hath
+deceived her own father; and, furthermore, although she indeed set
+thee free, it was but to oblige thee to marry her. And since it was an
+unworthy passion that was the source of thy liberty, I think that she
+ought not to be thy wife."
+
+When the lady heard these reasons, she answered thus, "I have not
+deceived my parent. He that deceives diminishes a certain good. But my
+father is so rich that he needs not any addition. Wherefore, your son's
+ransom would have left him but little richer, while you it would have
+utterly impoverished. I have thus served you, and done my father no
+injury. As for unworthy passion, that arises from wealth, honours, or a
+handsome appearance, none of which your son possessed, for he had not
+even enough to procure his ransom, and imprisonment had destroyed his
+beauty. Therefore, I freed him out of compassion."
+
+When the father heard this, he could object nothing more. So the son
+married the lady with great pomp, and closed his life in peace.
+
+
+APPLICATION
+
+My beloved, the son is the human race, led captive by the devil. The
+father is the world, that will not redeem the sinner, but loves to
+detain him. The daughter is Christ.
+
+
+_III.--O Venial Sin_
+
+Julian, a noble soldier, fond of the chase, was one day pursuing a
+stag, which turned and addressed him thus, "Thou who pursuest me so
+fiercely shalt one day destroy thy parents."
+
+In great alarm, Julian sought a far country, where he enlisted with a
+certain chieftain. For his renowned services in war and peace he was
+made a knight, and wedded to the widow of a castellan, with her castle
+as a dowry.
+
+Meanwhile, his parents sought him sorrowing, and coming at length to
+Julian's castle in his absence, they told his wife their story. The
+lady, for the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and
+early in the morning went forth to her devotions. Julian returned, and
+softly entering his wife's apartment, saw two persons therein, and was
+filled with terrible alarm for his lady's fealty.
+
+Without pause, he slew both, and hurried out. Meeting his wife in the
+church porch, he fell into amazement, and asked who they might be.
+Hearing the truth, he was shaken with an agony of tears, and cried,
+"Accursed that I am! Dearest wife, forgive, and receive my last
+farewell!"
+
+"Nay," she replied. "Wilt thou abandon me, beloved, and leave me
+widowed? I, that have shared thy happiness will now share thy grief!"
+
+Together they departed to a great and dangerous river, where many had
+perished. There they built a hospital, where they abode in contrition,
+ferrying over such as wished to cross the river, and cherishing the
+poor. After many years, Julian was aroused at midnight by a dolorous
+voice calling his name. He found and ferried over a leper, perishing
+with cold. Failing to warm the wretch by other means, Julian placed
+him in his own bed, and strove by the heat of his own body to restore
+him. After a while he who seemed sick and cold and leprous appeared
+robed in immortal splendour, and, waving his light wings, seemed ready
+to mount up into heaven. Turning upon his wondering host a look of the
+utmost benignity, the visitant exclaimed, "Julian, the Lord hath sent
+me to thee to announce the acceptance of thy contrition. Ere long thou
+and thy partner will sleep in Him."
+
+So saying, the angelic messenger disappeared, and Julian and his wife,
+after a short time occupied in good works, died in peace.
+
+
+_IV.--Of the End of Sinners_
+
+Dionysius records that Perillus, wishing to become the artificer of
+Phalaris, the cruel tyrant of Agrigentum, presented him with a brazen
+bull. In its side was a secret door, for the entry of those who should
+be burned to death within. The idea was that the agonised cries of the
+victim, resembling the roaring of a bull and nothing human, should
+arouse no feeling of mercy. The king, highly applauding the invention,
+said, "Friend, the value of thy industry is still untried; more cruel
+even than the people account me, thou thyself shalt be the first
+victim."
+
+There is no law more equitable than that "the artificer of death should
+perish by his own devices," as Ovid hath observed.
+
+
+_V.--Of Too Much Pride_
+
+As the Emperor Jovinian lay abed, reflecting on his power and
+possessions, he impiously asked, "Is there any other god than I?"
+
+Amid such thoughts he fell asleep.
+
+Now, on the morrow, as he followed the chase, he separated himself
+from his followers in order to bathe in a stream. And as he bathed, one
+like him in all respects took the emperor's dress, and arraying himself
+in them, mounted the monarch's horse, and joined the royal retinue,
+who knew him not from their master. Jovinian, horseless and naked, was
+vexed beyond measure.
+
+"Miserable that I am," he exclaimed, "I will to a knight who lives
+hard by. Him have I promoted; haply he will befriend me." But when he
+declared himself to be Jovinian, the knight ordered him to be flogged.
+"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the emperor, "is it possible that one whom I
+have loaded with honours should use me thus?"
+
+Next he sought out a certain duke, one of his privy counsellors, and
+told his tale.
+
+"Poor, mad wretch," said the duke. "I am but newly returned from the
+palace, where I left the emperor."
+
+He therefore had Jovinian flogged, and imprisoned. Contriving to
+escape, he went to the palace. "Surely," he reflected, "my servants
+will know me." But his own porter denied him. Nevertheless, he
+persuaded the man to take a secret sign to the empress, and to demand
+his imperial robes. The empress, sitting at table with the feigned
+emperor, was much disturbed, and said, "Oh, my lord, there is a vile
+fellow at the gate who declares the most hidden passages of our life,
+and says he is my husband."
+
+Being condemned to be dragged by a horse's tail, Jovinian, in despair,
+sought his confessor's cell. But the holy man would not open to him,
+although at last, being adjured by the name of the Crucified, he gave
+him shrift at the window. Thereupon he knew the emperor, and giving him
+some clothes, bade him show himself again at the palace. This he did,
+and was received with due obeisance. Still, none knew which was the
+emperor, and which the impostor, until the feigned emperor spake.
+
+"I," said he, "am the guardian angel of the king's soul. He has now
+purged his pride by penance; let your obedience wait on him."
+
+So saying, he disappeared. The emperor gave thanks to God, lived
+happily after, and finished his days in peace.
+
+
+_VI.--Of Avarice_
+
+A covetous and wicked carpenter placed all his riches in a log, which
+he hid by his fireside. Now, the sea swept away that part of his house,
+and drifted the log to a city where lived a generous man. He found the
+log, cleft it, and laid the gold in a secure place until he should
+discover the owner.
+
+Now, the carpenter, seeking his wealth with lamentations, came by
+chance to the house of him that had found it. Mentioning his loss, his
+host said to himself, "I will prove if God will that I return his money
+to him." He then made three cakes, one filled with earth, the second
+with dead men's bones, and the third with some of the lost gold. The
+carpenter, being invited to choose, weighed the cakes in his hand, and
+finding that with earth heaviest, took it.
+
+"And if I want more, my worthy host," said he, "I will choose that,"
+laying his hand on the cake containing the bones. "The third you may
+keep for yourself."
+
+"Thou miserable varlet," cried the host. "It is thine own gold, which
+plainly the Lord wills not that I return to thee."
+
+So saying, he distributed all the treasure among the poor, and drove
+the carpenter away from his house in great tribulation.
+
+
+_VII.--Of Temporary Tribulation_
+
+Antiochus, king of Antioch, had one lovely daughter, who was much
+courted. But her father, seeking to withhold her from marriage,
+proposed a riddle to every suitor, and each one who failed to guess the
+answer was put to death. Among the suitors came Apollonius, the young
+Prince of Tyre, who guessed the riddle, the answer to which revealed a
+shameful secret of the king's life. Antiochus, loudly denying that the
+young man had hit upon the truth, sent him away for thirty days, and
+bade him try again, on pain of death. So Apollonius departed.
+
+Now, Antiochus sent his steward, Taliarchus, to Tyre, with orders to
+destroy Apollonius; but by the time the steward arrived the prince had
+put to sea in a fleet laden with treasure, corn, and many changes of
+raiment. Hearing this, Antiochus set a price on the head of Apollonius,
+and pursued him with a great armament. The prince, arriving at Tharsus,
+saved that city from famine by the supplies he brought, and a statue
+was raised in his honour. Then, by the advice of one Stranguilio and
+his wife, Dionysias, he sailed to Pentapolis. On the way he suffered
+shipwreck, and reached that city on a plank. There, by his skill in
+athletics and music, he won the favour of Altistrates, the king, who
+gave him his daughter to wife.
+
+Some time after, hearing that the wicked Antiochus and his daughter
+had been killed by lightning, Apollonius and his wife set sail to take
+up the sovereignty of Antioch, which had fallen to him. On the way the
+lady died, leaving a new-born daughter. The prince placed his wife's
+body in a coffin smeared with pitch, and committed it to the deep. In
+the coffin he put money and a tablet, instructing anyone who found the
+body to bury it sumptuously. Apollonius returned to Pentapolis and
+gave his infant daughter into the care of Stranguilio and Dionysias.
+Then he himself sailed away and wandered the world in deep grief. In
+the meantime, his wife's body was cast up at Ephesus, and was found by
+the physician Cerimon, one of whose pupils revived the lady, who became
+a vestal of Diana.
+
+Years passed, and the child, who was called Tharsia, incurred the
+jealousy of Dionysias, because she was fairer than her own child
+Philomatia. Dionysias sought to kill Tharsia, who, at the critical
+moment, was carried away by pirates, and sold into slavery at
+Machylena. There her beauty and goodness protected her, so that none
+who came to her master's evil house would do her wrong. She persuaded
+her owner to let her earn her bread by her accomplishments in music and
+the unravelling of hard sayings. Thus she won the love of the prince of
+that place, Athanagoras, who protected her.
+
+Some time afterwards a strange fleet came to Machylena. Athanagoras,
+struck by the beauty of one of the ships, went on board, and asked to
+see the owner. He found a rugged and melancholy man, who was none other
+than Apollonius. In due time that prince was joyfully reunited with his
+child, who was given in marriage to her perserver. Speedy vengeance
+overtook Tharsia's cruel owner, and later Stranguilio and Dionysias
+suffered for their misdeeds. Being warned by a dream to return to
+Ephesus, Apollonius found his wife in the precinct of the vestals, and,
+together with her, he reigned long and happily over Antioch and Tyre.
+After death he went into everlasting life. To which may God, of His
+infinite mercy, lead us all.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH
+
+The Citizen of the World
+
+  "The Citizen of the World," after appearing in the "Public
+  Ledger" newspaper in 1760-61, was published in two volumes in
+  1762, with the sub-title, "Letters from a Chinese Philosopher,
+  Residing in London, to his Friends in the East." It established
+  Goldsmith's literary reputation (see Vol. IV, p. 275). The
+  author's main purpose was to indulge in a keen, but not
+  ill-natured, satire upon Western, and especially upon English,
+  civilisation; but sometimes the satiric manner yields place to
+  the philosophical.
+
+
+_The Troubles of the Great_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM, FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE CEREMONIAL
+ACADEMY AT PEKIN
+
+The princes of Europe have found out a manner of rewarding their
+subjects who have behaved well, by presenting them with about two
+yards of blue ribbon, which is worn over the shoulder. They who are
+honoured with this mark of distinction are called knights, and the king
+himself is always the head of the order. This is a very frugal method
+of recompensing the most important services, and it is very fortunate
+for kings that their subjects are satisfied with such trifling rewards.
+Should a nobleman happen to lose his leg in battle, the king presents
+him with two yards of ribbon, and he is paid for the loss of his limb.
+Should an ambassador spend all his paternal fortunes in supporting the
+honour of his country abroad, the king presents him with two yards of
+ribbon, which is to be considered as an equivalent to his estate. In
+short, while a European king has a yard of blue or green ribbon left,
+he need be under no apprehension of wanting statesmen, generals, and
+soldiers.
+
+I cannot sufficiently admire those kingdoms in which men with large
+patrimonial estates are willing thus to undergo real hardships for
+empty favours. A person, already possessed of a competent fortune,
+who undertakes to enter the career of ambition feels many real
+inconveniences from his station, while it procures him no real
+happiness that he was not possessed of before. He could eat, drink, and
+sleep before he became a courtier, as well, perhaps better, than when
+invested with his authority.
+
+What real good, then, does an addition to a fortune already sufficient
+procure? Not any. Could the great man, by having his fortune increased,
+increase also his appetite, then precedence might be attended with real
+amusement. But, on the contrary, he finds his desire for pleasure often
+lessen as he takes pains to be able to improve it; and his capacity of
+enjoyment diminishes as his fortune happens to increase.
+
+Instead, therefore, of regarding the great with envy, I generally
+consider them with some share of compassion. I look upon them as a set
+of good-natured, misguided people, who are indebted to us, and not to
+themselves, for all the happiness they enjoy. For our pleasure, and
+not their own, they sweat under a cumbrous heap of finery; for our
+pleasure, the hackneyed train, the slow-parading pageant, with all
+the gravity of grandeur, moves in review; a single coat, or a single
+footman, answers all the purposes of the most indolent refinement as
+well; and those who have twenty may be said to keep one for their own
+pleasure, and the other nineteen for ours. So true is the observation
+of Confucius, "That we take greater pains to persuade others that we
+are happy than in endeavouring to think so ourselves."
+
+But though this desire of being seen, of being made the subject of
+discourse, and of supporting the dignities of an exalted station,
+be troublesome to the ambitious, yet it is well that there are men
+thus willing to exchange ease and safety for danger and a ribbon. We
+lose nothing by their vanity, and it would be unkind to endeavour to
+deprive a child of its rattle.... Adieu.
+
+
+_The Folly of the Recluse_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO HINGPO, HIS SON
+
+Books, my son, while they teach us to respect the interests of others,
+often make us unmindful of our own; while they instruct the youthful
+reader to grasp at social happiness, he grows miserable in detail. I
+dislike, therefore, the philosopher, who describes the inconveniences
+of life in such pleasing colours that the pupil grows enamoured of
+distress, longs to try the charms of poverty, meets it without dread,
+nor fears its inconveniences till he severely feels them.
+
+A youth who has thus spent his life among books, new to the world,
+and unacquainted with man but by philosophic information, may be
+considered as a being whose mind is filled with the vulgar errors of
+the wise. He first has learned from books, and then lays it down as
+a maxim that all mankind are virtuous or vicious in excess; warm,
+therefore, in attachments, and steadfast in enmity, he treats every
+creature as a friend or foe. Upon a closer inspection of human nature
+he perceives that he should have moderated his friendship, and softened
+his severity; he finds no character so sanctified that has not its
+failings, none so infamous but has somewhat to attract our esteem; he
+beholds impiety in lawn, and fidelity in fetters.
+
+He now, therefore, but too late, perceives that his regards should have
+been more cool, and his hatred less violent; that the truly wise seldom
+court romantic friendships with the good, and avoid, if possible, the
+resentment even of the wicked; every movement gives him fresh instances
+that the bonds of friendship are broken if drawn too closely, and that
+those whom he has treated with disrespect more than retaliate the
+injury; at length, therefore, he is obliged to confess that he has
+declared war upon the vicious half of mankind, without being able to
+form an alliance among the virtuous to espouse his quarrel.
+
+Our book-taught philosopher, however, is now too far advanced to
+recede; and though poverty be the just consequence of the many
+enemies his conduct has created, yet he is resolved to meet it
+without shrinking. "Come, then, O Poverty! for what is there in thee
+dreadful to the Wise? Temperance, Health, and Frugality walk in thy
+train; Cheerfulness and Liberty are ever thy companions. Come, then,
+O Poverty, while kings stand by, and gaze with admiration at the true
+philosopher's resignation!"
+
+The goddess appears, for Poverty ever comes at the call; but, alas!
+he finds her by no means the charming figure books and his warm
+imagination had painted. All the fabric of enthusiasm is at once
+demolished, and a thousand miseries rise upon its ruins, while
+Contempt, with pointing finger, is foremost in the hideous procession.
+
+The poor man now finds that he can get no kings to look at him while
+he is eating; he finds that, in proportion as he grows poor, the world
+turns its back upon him, and gives him leave to act the philosopher
+in all the majesty of solitude. Spleen now begins to take up the man;
+not distinguishing in his resentments, he regards all mankind with
+detestation, and commencing man-hater, seeks solitude to be at liberty
+to rail.
+
+It has been said that he who retires to solitude is either a beast
+or an angel. The censure is too severe, and the praise unmerited;
+the discontented being who retires from society is generally some
+good-natured man, who has begun life without experience, and knew not
+how to gain it in his intercourse with mankind. Adieu.
+
+
+_On Mad Dogs_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM
+
+Indulgent Nature seems to have exempted this island from many of those
+epidemic evils which are so fatal in other parts of the world. But
+though the nation be exempt from real evils, think not, my friend, that
+it is more happy on this account than others. They are afflicted, it is
+true, with neither famine nor pestilence, but then there is a disorder
+peculiar to the country, which every season makes strange ravages
+among them; it spreads with pestilential rapidity, and infects almost
+every rank of people; what is still more strange, the natives have no
+name for this peculiar malady, though well enough known to foreign
+physicians by the name of epidemic terror.
+
+A season is never known to pass in which the people are not visited
+by this cruel calamity in one shape or another, seemingly different,
+though ever the same. The people, when once infected, lose their relish
+for happiness, saunter about with looks of despondence, ask after the
+calamities of the day, and receive no comfort but in heightening each
+other's distress. A dread of mad dogs is the epidemic terror which now
+prevails, and the whole nation is at present actually groaning under
+the malignity of its influence.
+
+It is pleasant enough for a neutral being like me, who have no share in
+these ideal calamities, to mark the stages of this national disease.
+The terror at first feebly enters with a little dog that had gone
+through a neighbouring village, that was thought to be mad by several
+who had seen him. The next account comes that a mastiff ran through
+a certain town, and had bit five geese, which immediately ran mad,
+foamed at the bill, and died in great agonies soon after. Then comes an
+affecting history of a little boy bit in the leg, and gone down to be
+dipped in the salt water; when the people have sufficiently shuddered
+at that, they are next congealed with a frightful account of a man who
+was said lately to have died from a bite he had received some years
+before.
+
+My landlady, a good-natured woman, but a little credulous, waked me
+some mornings ago, before the usual hour, with horror and astonishment
+in her looks; she desired me, if I had any regard for my safety, to
+keep within, for a few days ago so dismal an accident had happened as
+to put all the world upon their guard. A mad dog down in the country,
+she assured me, had bit a farmer who, soon becoming mad, ran into his
+own yard, and bit a fine brindled cow; the cow quickly became as mad
+as the man, began to foam at the mouth, and raising herself up, walked
+about on her hind legs, sometimes barking like a dog, and sometimes
+attempting to talk like the farmer.
+
+Were most stories of this nature thoroughly examined, it would be
+found that numbers of such as have been said to suffer were in no way
+injured; and that of those who have been actually bitten, not one in a
+hundred was bit by a mad dog. Such accounts in general, therefore, only
+serve to make the people miserable by false terrors.
+
+Of all the beasts that graze the lawn or hunt the forest, a dog is
+the only animal that, leaving his fellows, attempts to cultivate the
+friendship of man; no injuries can abate his fidelity; no distress
+induce him to forsake his benefactor; studious to please and fearing to
+offend, he is still an humble, steadfast dependent, and in him alone
+fawning is not flattery. How unkind, then, to torture this faithful
+creature who has left the forest to claim the protection of man! How
+ungrateful a return to the trusty animal for all his services! Adieu.
+
+
+_On Elections_
+
+FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM
+
+The English are at present employed in celebrating a feast, which
+becomes general every seventh year: the parliament of the nation being
+then dissolved, and another appointed to be chosen. This solemnity
+falls infinitely short of our Feast of the Lanterns in magnificence and
+splendour; it is also surpassed by others of the East in unanimity and
+pure devotion; but no festival in the world can compare with it for
+eating.
+
+To say the truth, eating seems to make a grand ingredient in all
+English parties of zeal, business, or amusement. When a church is to be
+built, or an hospital endowed, the directors assemble, and instead of
+consulting upon it, they eat upon it, by which means the business goes
+forward with success. When the poor are to be relieved, the officers
+appointed to dole out public charity assemble and eat upon it. Nor has
+it ever been known that they filled the bellies of the poor till they
+had satisfied their own. But in the election of magistrates the people
+seem to exceed all bounds.
+
+What amazes me is that all this good living no way contributes to
+improve their good humour. On the contrary, they seem to lose their
+temper as they lose their appetites; every morsel they swallow, and
+every glass they pour down, serves to increase their animosity.
+Upon one of these occasions I have actually seen a bloody-minded
+man-milliner sally forth at the head of a mob, to face a desperate
+pastrycook, who was general of the opposite party.
+
+I lately made an excursion to a neighbouring village, in order to be
+a spectator of the ceremonies practised. Mixing with the crowd, I was
+conducted to the hall where the magistrates are chosen; but what tongue
+can describe this scene of confusion! The whole crowd seemed equally
+inspired with anger, jealousy, politics, patriotism, and punch. I
+remarked one figure that was carried up by two men upon this occasion.
+I at first began to pity his infirmities as natural, but soon found the
+fellow so drunk that he could not stand; another made his appearance
+to give his vote, but though he could stand, he actually lost the use
+of his tongue, and remained silent; a third, who, though excessively
+drunk, could both stand and speak, being asked the candidate's name
+for whom he voted, could be prevailed upon to make no other answer but
+"Tobacco and brandy!" In short, an election-hall seems to be a theatre,
+where every passion is seen without disguise; a school where fools may
+readily become worse, and where philosophers may gather wisdom. Adieu.
+
+
+_Opinions and Anecdotes_
+
+The most ignorant nations have always been found to think most highly
+of themselves.
+
+It may sound fine in the mouth of a declaimer, when he talks of
+subduing our appetites, of teaching every sense to be content with
+a bare sufficiency, and of supplying only the wants of nature; but
+is there not more satisfaction in indulging these appetites, if with
+innocence and safety, than in restraining them? Am I not better pleased
+in enjoyment, than in the sullen satisfaction of thinking that I can
+live without enjoyment?
+
+When five brethren had set upon the great Emperor Guisong, alone
+with his sabre he slew four of them; he was struggling with the
+fifth, when his guards, coming up, were going to cut the conspirator
+into a thousand pieces. "No, no!" cried the emperor, with a placid
+countenance. "Of all his brothers he is the only one remaining; at
+least let one of the family be suffered to live, that his aged parents
+may have somebody left to feed and comfort them."
+
+It was a fine saying of Nangfu the emperor, who, being told that his
+enemies had raised an insurrection in one of the distant provinces,
+said: "Come, then, my friends, follow me, and I promise you that
+we shall quickly destroy them." He marched forward, and the rebels
+submitted upon his approach. All now thought that he would take the
+most signal revenge, but were surprised to see the captives treated
+with mildness and humanity. "How!" cries his first minister, "is this
+the manner in which you fulfil your promise? Your royal word was given
+that your enemies should be destroyed, and behold, you have pardoned
+all, and even caressed some!" "I promised," replied the emperor, with a
+generous air, "to destroy my _enemies_; I have fulfilled my word, for
+see, they are enemies no longer; I have made _friends_ of them."
+
+Well it were if rewards and mercy alone could regulate the
+commonwealth; but since punishments are sometimes necessary, let them
+at least be rendered terrible, by being executed but seldom; and let
+justice lift her sword rather to terrify than revenge.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY HALLAM
+
+Introduction to the Literature of Europe
+
+  The full volume of this work, "Introduction to the Literature of
+  Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries,"
+  was published about 1837, and is a vast accumulation of facts,
+  but is lacking in organic unity, in vigour, and vitality.
+  Hallam's spelling of proper names has been followed throughout
+  this epitome. (Henry Hallam, biography; see Vol. XI, p. 255.)
+
+
+_I.--Before the Fifteenth Century_
+
+The establishment of the barbarian nations on the ruins of the Roman
+Empire in the West was followed by an almost universal loss of
+classical learning. The last of the ancients, and one who forms a link
+with the Middle Ages, is Boethius, whose "Consolation of Philosophy"
+mingles a Christian sanctity with the lessons of Greek and Roman sages.
+But after his death, in 524, the downfall of learning and eloquence was
+inconceivably rapid, and a state of general ignorance, except here and
+there within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, lasted for five centuries.
+
+The British islands led the way in the slow restoration of knowledge.
+The Irish monasteries, in the seventh century, were the first to send
+out men of comparative eminence, and the Venerable Bede, in the eighth
+century, was probably superior to any other man whom the world at that
+time possessed. Then came the days when Charlemagne laid in his vast
+dominions the foundations of learning.
+
+In the tenth century, when England and Italy alike were in the most
+deplorable darkness, France enjoyed an age of illumination, and a
+generation or two later we find many learned and virtuous churchmen
+in Germany. But it is not until the twelfth century that we enter
+on a new epoch in European literary history, when universities were
+founded, modern languages were cultivated, the study of Roman law was
+systematically taken up, and a return was made to a purer Latinity.
+
+Next, we observe the rise of the scholastic theology and philosophy,
+with their strenuous attempt at an alliance between faith and
+reason. The dry and technical style of these enquiries, their minute
+subdivisions of questions, and their imposing parade of accuracy,
+served indeed to stimulate subtlety of mind, but also hindered the
+revival of polite literature and the free expansion of the intellect.
+
+Dante and Petrarch are the morning stars of the modern age. They lie
+outside our period, and we must pass them over with a word. It is
+sufficient to notice that, largely by their influence, we find, in
+the year 1400, a national literature existing in no less than seven
+European languages--three in the Spanish peninsula, the French, the
+Italian, the German, and the English.
+
+
+_II.--The Fifteenth Century_
+
+We now come to a very important event--the resuscitation of the study
+of Greek in Italy. In 1423, Giovanni Aurispa, of Sicily, brought
+over two hundred manuscripts from Greece, including Plato, Plotinus,
+Diodorus, Pindar, and many other classics. Manuel Chrysoloras, teacher
+of Greek in Florence, had trained a school of Hellenists; and copyists,
+translators, and commentators set to work upon the masterpieces of
+the ancient world. We have good reason to doubt whether, without the
+Italians of those times, the revival of classical learning would ever
+have occurred. The movement was powerfully aided by Nicolas V., pope
+in 1447, who founded the Vatican library, supported scholars, and
+encouraged authors.
+
+Soon after 1450, the art of printing began to be applied to the
+purposes of useful learning, and Bibles, classical texts, collections
+of fables; and other works were rapidly given to the world. The
+accession to power of Lorenzo de Medici in 1464 marks the revival of
+native Italian genius in poetry, and under his influence the Platonic
+academy, founded by his grandfather Cosmo, promoted a variety of
+studies. But we still look in vain to England for either learning or
+native genius. The reign of Edward IV. is one of the lowest points in
+our literary annals.
+
+In France, the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," 1486, and the poems of
+Villon, 1489, show a marked advance in style. Many French "mysteries,"
+or religious dramas, belong to this period, and this early form of the
+dramatic art had also much popularity in Germany and in Italy. Literary
+activity, in France and in Germany, had become regularly progressive by
+the end of the century.
+
+Two men, Erasmus and Budaeus, were now devoting incessant labour, in
+Paris, to the study of Greek; and a gleam of light broke out even in
+England, where William Grocyn began, in 1491, to teach that language in
+Oxford. On his visit to England, in 1497, Erasmus was delighted with
+everything he found, and gave unbounded praise to the scholarship of
+Grocyn, Colet, Linacre, and the young Thomas More.
+
+The fifteenth century was a period of awakening and of strenuous
+effort. But if we ask what monuments of its genius and erudition still
+receive homage, we can give no very triumphant answer. Of the books
+then written, how few are read now!
+
+
+_III.--The Sixteenth Century (1500-1550)_
+
+In the early years of this century the press of Aldus Manutius, who had
+settled in Venice in 1489, was publishing many texts of the classics,
+Greek as well as Latin.
+
+It was at this time that the regular drama was first introduced into
+Europe. "Calandra," the earliest modern comedy, was presented at
+Venice in 1508, and about the same time the Spanish tragi-comedy of
+"Calisto and Meliboea" was printed. The pastoral romance, also, made
+its appearance in Portugal; and the "Arcadia," 1502, by the Italian
+Sannazaro, a work of this class, did much to restore the correctness
+and elegance of Italian prose. Peter Bembo's "Asolani," 1505, a
+dialogue on love, has also been thought to mark an epoch in Italian
+literature. At the same time, William Dunbar, with his "Thistle and
+Rose," 1503, and his allegorical "Golden Targe," was leading the van of
+British poetry.
+
+The records of voyages of discovery begin to take a prominent place.
+The old travels of Marco Polo, as well as those of Sir John Mandeville,
+and the "Cosmography" of Ptolemy, had been printed in the previous
+century; but the stupendous discoveries of the close of that age now
+fell to be told. The voyages of Cadamosto, a Venetian, in Western
+Africa, appeared in 1507; and those of Amerigo Vespucci, entitled
+"Mondo Nuovo," in the same year. An epistle of Columbus himself had
+been printed in Germany about 1493.
+
+Leo X., who became pope in 1513, placed men of letters in the most
+honourable stations of his court, and was the munificent patron of
+poets, scholars, and printers. Rucellai's "Rosmunda," a tragedy played
+before Leo in 1515, was the earliest known trial of blank verse. The
+"Sophonisba" of Trissino, published in 1524, a play written strictly
+on the Greek model, had been acted some years before. Two comedies by
+Ariosto were presented about 1512.
+
+Meanwhile, the printing press became very active in Paris, Basle,
+and Germany, chiefly in preparing works for the use of students in
+universities. But in respect of learning, we have the testimony of
+Erasmus that neither France, nor Germany, stood so high as England. In
+Scotland, boys were being taught Latin in school; and the translation
+of the AEneid by Gawin Douglas, completed about 1513, shows, by its
+spirit and fidelity, the degree of scholarship in the north. The only
+work of real genius which England can claim in this age is the "Utopia"
+of Sir Thomas More, first printed in 1516.
+
+Erasmus diffuses a lustre over his age, which no other name among the
+learned supplies. About 1517, he published an enlarged edition of his
+"Adages," which displays a surprising intimacy with Greek and Roman
+literature. The most remarkable of them, in every sense, are those
+which reflect with excessive bitterness on kings and priests. Erasmus
+knew that the regular clergy were not to be conciliated, and resolved
+to throw away the scabbard; and his invectives against kings proceeded
+from a just sense of the oppression of Europe in that age by ambitious
+and selfish rulers.
+
+We are now brought by necessary steps to the great religious revolution
+known as the Reformation, with which we are only concerned in so far
+as it modified the history of literature. In all his dispute, Luther
+was sustained by a prodigious force of popular opinion; and the German
+nation was so fully awakened to the abuses of the Church that, if
+neither Luther nor Zwingli had ever been born, a great religious schism
+was still at hand. Erasmus, who had so manifestly prepared the way for
+the new reformers, continued, beyond the year 1520, favourable to their
+cause. But some of Luther's tenets he did not and could not approve;
+and he was already disgusted by that intemperance of language which
+soon led him to secede entirely from the Protestant side.
+
+The laws of synchronism bring strange partners together, and we
+may pass at once from Luther to Ariosto, whose "Orlando Furioso"
+was printed at Ferrara in 1516. Ariosto has been, after Homer, the
+favourite poet of Europe. His grace and facility, his clear and rapid
+stream of language, his variety of invention, left him no rival.
+
+No edition of "Amadis de Gaul" has been proved to exist before that
+printed at Seville in 1519. This famous romance was translated into
+French between 1540 and 1557, and into English by Munday in 1619.
+
+A curious dramatic performance was represented in Paris in 1511, and
+published in 1516. It is entitled "Le Prince des Sots et la Mere
+sotte," by Peter Gringore; its chief aim was to ridicule the Pope and
+the court of Rome. Hans Sachs, a shoemaker of Nuremberg, produced his
+first carnival play in 1517. The English poets Hawes and Skelton fall
+within this period.
+
+From 1520 to 1550, Italy, where the literature of antiquity had been
+first cultivated, still retained her superiority in the fine perception
+of its beauties, but the study was proceeding also elsewhere in Europe.
+Few books of that age give us more insight into its literary history
+and the public taste than the "Circeronianus" of Erasmus, against which
+Scaliger wrote with unmannerly invective. The same period of thirty
+years is rich with poets, among whom are the Spanish Mendoza, the
+Portuguese Ribero, Marot in France, many hymn-writers in Germany; and
+in England, Wyatt and Surrey. At this time also, Spain was forming its
+national theatre, chiefly under the influence of Lope de Rueda and of
+Torres Naharro, the inventor of Spanish comedy. The most celebrated
+writer of fiction in this age is Rabelais, than whom few have greater
+fertility of language and imagination.
+
+
+_IV.--The Sixteenth Century (1550-1600)_
+
+Montaigne's "Essays," which first appeared at Bordeaux in 1580, make
+an epoch in literature, being the first appeal from the academy to the
+haunts of busy and idle men; and this delightful writer had a vast
+influence on English and French literature in the succeeding age.
+
+Turning now to the Italian poets of our period, we find that most of
+them are feeble copyists of Petrarch, whose style Bembo had rendered so
+popular. Casa, Costanzo, Baldi, Celio Magno, Bernardino Rota, Gaspara
+Stampa, Bernado Tasso, father of the great Tasso, Peter Aretin, and
+Firenzuola, flourished at this time. The "Jerusalem" of Torquato Tasso
+is the great epic of modern times; it is read with pleasure in almost
+every canto, though the native melancholy of Tasso tinges all his poem.
+It was no sooner published than it was weighed against the "Orlando
+Furioso," and Europe has not yet agreed which scale inclines.
+
+Spanish poetry is adorned by Luis Ponce de Leon, born in 1527, a
+religious and mystical lyric poet. The odes of Herrera have a lyric
+elevation and richness of phrase, derived from the study of Pindar
+and of the Old Testament. Castillejo, playful and witty, attempted to
+revive the popular poetry, and ridiculed the imitators of Petrarch.
+
+The great Camoens had now arisen in Portugal; his "Lusiad," written
+in praise of the Lusitanian people, is the mirror of his loving,
+courageous, generous, and patriotic heart. Camoens is the chief
+Portuguese poet in this age, and possibly in every other.
+
+This was an age of verse in France. Pierre Ronsard, Amadis Jamyn his
+pupil, Du Bartas, Pibrac, Desportes, and many others, were gradually
+establishing the rules of metre, and the Alexandrine was displacing the
+old verse of ten syllables.
+
+Of German poetry there is little to say; but England had Lord Vaux's
+short pieces in "The Paradise of Dainty Devices"; Sackville, with his
+"Induction" to the "Mirrour of Magistrates," 1559; George Gascoyne,
+whose "Steel Glass," 1576, is the earliest English satire; and, above
+all, Spenser, whose "Shepherd's Kalendar" appeared in 1579. This work
+was far more natural and more pleasing than the other pastorals of
+the age. Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," and his "Rape of Lucrece,"
+were published in 1593-94. Sir Philip Sidney, Raleigh, Lodge, Breton,
+Marlowe, Green, Watson, Davison, Daniel, and Michael Drayton were now
+writing poems, and Drake has a list of more than two hundred English
+poets of this time.
+
+The great work of the period is, however, the "Faery Queen," the first
+three books of which were published in 1590, and the last three in
+1596. Spenser excels Ariosto in originality, force, and variety of
+character, and in depth of reflection, but especially in the poetical
+cast of feeling.
+
+Of dramatic literature, between 1550 and 1600, we have many Italian
+plays by Groto, Decio da Orto, and Tasso. The pastoral drama
+originating with Agostino Beccari in 1554, reached its highest
+perfection in Tasso's "Aminta," which was followed by Guarini's "Pastor
+Fido."
+
+Lope de Vega is the great Spanish dramatist of this time. His
+astonishing facility produced over two thousand original dramas,
+of which three hundred have been preserved. Jodelle, the father of
+the French theatre, presented his "Cleopatre" in 1552. In 1598 the
+foundations were laid of the Comedie Francaise.
+
+In England, Sackville led the way with his tragedy of "Gorboduc,"
+played at Whitehall before Elizabeth in 1562. In 1576, the first
+public theatre was erected in Blackfriars. Several young men of talent
+appeared, Marlowe, Peele, Greene, Kyd, and Nash, as the precursors
+of Shakespeare; and in 1587, being then twenty-three years old, the
+greatest of dramatists settled in London, and several of his plays had
+been acted before the close of the century.
+
+Among English prose writings of this time may be mentioned Ascham's
+"Schoolmaster," 1570, Puttenham's "Art of English Poesie," 1586, and,
+as a curiosity of affectation, Lilly's "Euphues." But the first good
+prose-writer is Sir Philip Sidney, whose "Arcadia" appeared in 1590;
+and the finest master of prose in the Elizabethan period is Hooker. The
+first book of the "Ecclesiastical Polity" is one of the masterpieces of
+English eloquence.
+
+
+_V.--The Seventeenth Century (1600-1650)_
+
+The two great figures in philosophy of this period are Bacon and
+Descartes. At its beginning the higher philosophy had been little
+benefited by the labours of any modern enquirer. It was become, indeed,
+no strange thing to question the authority of Aristotle, but his
+disciples could point with scorn at the endeavours made to supplant it.
+
+In the great field of natural jurisprudence, the most eminent name
+in this period is that of Hugo Grotius, whose famous work "De Jure
+Belli et Pacis" was published in Paris in 1625. This treatise made an
+epoch in the philosophical, and, we might almost say, in the political
+history of Europe.
+
+In the history of poetry, between 1600 and 1650, we have the Italians
+Marini, Tassoni, and Chiabrera, the last being the founder of a school
+of lyric poetry known as "Pindaric." Among Spanish poets are Villegas
+and Gongora; in France, Malherbe, Regnier, Racan, Maynard, Voiture,
+and Sarrazin; Opitz, in Germany, was the founder of German poetic
+literature; and this, the golden age of Dutch literature, included the
+poets Spiegel, Hooft, Cats, and Vondel. The English poets of these
+fifty years are very numerous, but for the most part not well known.
+Spenser was imitated by Phineas and Giles Fletcher. Sir John Denham,
+Donne, Crashaw, Cowley, Daniel, Michael Drayton, William Browne, and
+Sir William Davenant wrote at this time, to which also belong the
+sonnets of Shakespeare. Drummond of Hawthornden, Carew, Ben Jonson,
+Wither, Habington, Suckling, and Herrick, were all in the first half
+of the seventeenth century. John Milton was born in 1609, and in 1634
+wrote "Comus," which was published in 1637; "Lycidas," the "Allegro"
+and "Penseroso," the "Ode on the Nativity," and Milton's sonnets
+followed.
+
+The Italian drama was weak at this period, but in Spain Lope de Vega
+and Calderon were at the height of their glory. In France, Corneille's
+"Melite," his first play, was produced in 1629, and was followed by
+"Clitandre," "La Veuve," "Medea," "Cid," and others. The English
+drama was exceedingly popular, and the reigns of James and Charles
+were the glory of our theatre. Shakespeare--the greatest name in all
+literature--Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Shirley,
+Heywood, Webster, and many other dramatists contributed to its fame.
+
+In prose writings, Italian and Spanish works of this time show a great
+decline in taste; but in France, the letters of the moralist Balzac and
+of Voiture, from 1625, have ingenuity and sprightliness. English prose
+writings of the period include the works of Knolles, Raleigh, Daniel,
+Bacon, Milton, Clarendon; Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy," Earle's
+"Microcosmographia" and Overbury's "Characters."
+
+Fiction was represented by "Don Quixote," of which the first part was
+published in 1605--almost the only Spanish book which is popularly read
+in every country; by the French heroic romance, and by the English
+Godwin's "Man in the Moon."
+
+
+_VI.--The Seventeenth Century (1650-1700)_
+
+Among the greatest writers of this period are Bossuet and Pascal, in
+theology; Gassendi, Malebranche, Spinoza, and Locke, in philosophy; and
+Cumberland, Puffendorf, La Rochefoucauld, and La Bruyere, in morals.
+Leibnitz wrote on jurisprudence before he passed on to philosophy, and
+the same subject was treated also by Godefroy, Domat, and Noodt.
+
+Italian poetry had now improved in tone. Filicaja, a man of serious
+and noble spirit, wrote odes of deep patriotic and religious feeling.
+Guidi, a native of Pavia, raised himself to the highest point that any
+lyric poet of Italy has attained. Spain and Portugal were destitute
+of poets; but in France La Fontaine, Boileau, Benserade, Chaulieu,
+Segrais, Deshoulieres, and Fontenelle, were famous. In England at this
+time there were Waller, Milton, Butler, and Dryden, as well as Marvell
+and other minor poets.
+
+Neither Italy nor Spain was now producing dramatic works of any
+importance, but it was very different in France. Corneille continued
+to write for the stage, and Racine's first play, the "Andromaque," was
+presented in 1667. This was followed by "Britannicus," "Berenice,"
+"Mithridate," "Iphigenie," and others. Racine's style is exquisite; he
+is second only to Virgil among all poets. Moliere, the French writer
+whom his country has most uniformly admired, began with "L'Etourdi" in
+1653, and his pieces followed rapidly until his death, in 1673. The
+English Restoration stage was held by Dryden, Otway, Southern, Lee,
+Congreve, Wycherley, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh.
+
+In prose literature Italy is deficient; but this period includes the
+most distinguished portion of the great age in France, the reign of
+Louis XIV. Bossuet, Malebranche, Arnauld, and Pascal are among the
+greatest of French writers.
+
+English writing now became easier and more idiomatic, sometimes even to
+the point of vulgarity. The best masters of prose were Cowley, Evelyn,
+Dryden, and Walton in the "Complete Angler."
+
+Among novels of the period may be named those of Quevedo in Spain;
+of Scarron, Bergerac, Perrault, and Hamilton, in France; and the
+"Pilgrim's Progress"--for John Bunyan may pass for the father of our
+novelists--in England. Swift's "Tale of a Tub," than which Rabelais has
+nothing superior, was indeed not published till 1704, but was written
+within the seventeenth century.
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM HAZLITT
+
+Lectures on the English Poets
+
+  William Hazlitt, critic and essayist, was born on April 10,
+  1778, and was educated in London for the Unitarian ministry. But
+  his talents for painting and for writing diverted him from that
+  career, and soon, though he showed great promise as a painter,
+  he devoted himself to authorship, contributing largely to the
+  "Morning Chronicle," the "Examiner," and the "Edinburgh Review."
+  His wide, genial interests, his ardent temperament, and his
+  admirable style, have given Hazlitt a high place among English
+  critics. He is no pedant or bookworm; he is always human, always
+  a man of the world. His "Characters of Shakespeare's Plays,"
+  1817, gave him a reputation which was confirmed by his "Lectures
+  on the English Poets," delivered next year at the Surrey
+  Institute. Further lectures, on the English comic writers and on
+  the Elizabethan dramatists, followed. His essays, on all kinds
+  of subjects, are collected in volumes under various titles. All
+  are the best of reading. Hazlitt's later works include "Liber
+  Amoris," 1823; "Spirit of the Age," 1825, consisting of character
+  studies; and the "Life of Napoleon" (Hazlitt's hero), 1828-30.
+  The essayist was twice married, and died on September 18, 1830.
+
+
+_What Is Poetry?_
+
+The best general notion which I can give of poetry is that it is the
+natural impression of any object or event by its vividness exciting
+an involuntary movement of imagination and passion, and producing,
+by sympathy, a certain modulation of the voice or sounds expressing
+it. Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds with
+Nature and itself. He who has a contempt for poetry cannot have much
+respect for himself or for anything else. It is not a mere frivolous
+accomplishment; it has been the study and delight of mankind in all
+ages.
+
+Nor is it found only in books; wherever there is a sense of beauty,
+or power, or harmony, as in a wave of the sea, or in the growth of a
+flower, there is poetry in its birth. It is not a branch of authorship;
+it is the "stuff of which our life is made." The rest is "mere
+oblivion," for all that is worth remembering in life is the poetry of
+it. If poetry is a dream, the business of life is much the same. If it
+is a fiction, made up of what we wish things to be, and fancy that they
+are because we wish them so, there is no other or better reality.
+
+The light of poetry is not only a direct, but also a reflected light,
+that, while it shows us the object, throws a sparkling radiance on all
+around it; the flame of the passions communicated to the imagination
+reveals to us, as with a flash of lightning, the inmost recesses of
+thought, and penetrates our whole being. Poetry represents forms
+chiefly as they suggest other forms; feelings, as they suggest forms,
+or other feelings. Poetry puts a spirit of life and motion into the
+universe. It describes the flowing, not the fixed. The poetical
+impression of any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or
+power that cannot be contained within itself, that is impatient of all
+limit; that--as flame bends to flame--strives to link itself to some
+other image of kindred beauty or grandeur, to enshrine itself, as it
+were, in the highest forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense
+of pleasure by expressing it in the boldest manner, and by the most
+striking examples of the same quality in other instances.
+
+As in describing natural objects poetry impregnates sensible
+impressions with the forms of fancy, so it describes the feelings of
+pleasure or pain by blending them with the strongest movements of
+passion and the most striking forms of Nature. Tragic poetry, which is
+the most impassioned species of it, strives to carry on the feeling to
+the utmost point of sublimity or pathos by all the force of comparison
+or contrast, loses the sense of present suffering in the imaginary
+exaggeration of it, exhausts the terror or pity by an unlimited
+indulgence of it, and lifts us from the depths of woe to the highest
+contemplations of human life.
+
+The use and end of poetry, "both at the first and now, was and is to
+hold the mirror up to Nature," seen through the medium of passion and
+imagination, not divested of that medium by means of literal truth or
+abstract reason. Those who would dispel the illusions of imagination,
+to give us their drab-coloured creation in their stead, are not very
+wise. It cannot be concealed, however, that the progress of knowledge
+and refinement has a tendency to clip the wings of poetry. The province
+of the imagination is principally visionary, the unknown and undefined;
+we can only fancy what we do not know. There can never be another
+Jacob's dream. Since that time the heavens have gone farther off, and
+grown astronomical.
+
+Poetry combines the ordinary use of language with musical expression.
+As there are certain sounds that excite certain movements, and the song
+and dance go together, so there are, no doubt, certain thoughts that
+lead to certain tones of voice, or modulations of sound. The jerks, the
+breaks, the inequalities and harshnesses of prose are fatal to the flow
+of a poetical imagination, as a jolting road disturbs the reverie of an
+absent-minded man. But poetry makes these odds all even. The musical in
+sound is the sustained and continuous; the musical in thought is the
+sustained and continuous also. An excuse may be made for rhyme in the
+same manner.
+
+
+_Chaucer and Spenser_
+
+These are two out of the four greatest English poets; but they were
+both much indebted to the early poets of Italy, and may be considered
+as belonging, in some degree, to that school. Spenser delighted in
+luxurious enjoyment; Chaucer in severe activity of mind. Spenser was
+the most romantic and visionary of all great poets; Chaucer the most
+practical, the most a man of business and the world.
+
+Chaucer does not affect to show his power over the reader's mind, but
+the power which his subject has over his own. The readers of Chaucer's
+poetry feel more nearly what the persons he describes must have felt,
+than perhaps those of any other poet. There is no artificial, pompous
+display; but a strict parsimony of the poet's materials, like the
+rude simplicity of the age in which he lived. His words point as an
+index to the objects, like the eye or finger. There were none of the
+commonplaces of poetic diction in his time, no reflected lights of
+fancy, no borrowed roseate tints; he was obliged to inspect things
+narrowly for himself, so that his descriptions produce the effect of
+sculpture.
+
+His descriptions of natural scenery possess a characteristic excellence
+which may be termed gusto. They have a local truth and freshness which
+give the very feeling of the air, the coolness or moisture of the
+ground. Inanimate objects are thus made to have a fellow-feeling in the
+interest of the story, and render the sentiment of the speaker's mind.
+
+It was the same trust in Nature and reliance on his subject which
+enabled Chaucer to describe the grief and patience of Griselda and the
+faith of Constance. Chaucer has more of this deep, internal, sustained
+sentiment than any other writer, except Boccaccio. In depth of simple
+pathos and intensity of conception, never swerving from his subject, I
+think no other writer comes near him, not even the Greek tragedians.
+
+The poetry of Chaucer has a religious sanctity about it, connected
+with the manners and superstitions of the age. It has all the spirit
+of martyrdom. It has also all the extravagance and the utmost
+licentiousness of comic humour, equally arising out of the manners of
+the time. He excelled in both styles, and could pass at will from the
+one to the other; but he never confounded the two styles together.
+
+Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical. There is an
+originality, richness, and variety in his allegorical personages and
+fictions which almost vie with the splendours of the ancient mythology.
+His poetry is all fairyland; he paints Nature not as we find it, but
+as we expected to find it, and fulfils the delightful promise of our
+youth. His ideas, indeed, seem more distinct than his perceptions. The
+love of beauty, however, and not of truth, is the moving principle of
+his mind; and he is guided in his fantastic delineations by no rule but
+the impulse of an inexhaustible imagination.
+
+Some people will say that Spenser's poetry may be very fine, but that
+they cannot understand it, on account of the allegory. They are afraid
+of the allegory. This is very idle. If they do not meddle with the
+allegory, the allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it at
+all, the whole is as plain as a pikestaff.
+
+Spenser is the poet of our waking dreams, and he has invented not
+only a language, but a music of his own for them. The undulations are
+infinite, like those of the waves of the sea; but the effect is still
+the same, lulling the senses into a deep oblivion of the jarring noises
+of the world, from which we have no wish ever to be recalled.
+
+
+_Shakespeare and Milton_
+
+Those arts which depend on individual genius and incommunicable power
+have always leaped at once from infancy to manhood, from the first
+rude dawn of invention to their meridian height and dazzling lustre,
+and have in general declined ever after. Homer, Chaucer, Spenser,
+Shakespeare, Dante, and Ariosto--Milton alone was of a later age, and
+not the worse for it--Raphael, Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio,
+Cervantes, and Boccaccio, the Greek sculptors and tragedians, all lived
+near the beginning of their arts, perfected, and all but created them.
+They rose by clusters, never so to rise again.
+
+The four greatest names in English poetry are almost the four first we
+come to--Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton. There are no others
+that can really be put into competition with these. Of these four,
+Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life; Spenser as the
+poet of romance; Shakespeare as the poet of Nature, in the largest use
+of the term; and Milton as the poet of morality. Chaucer describes
+things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be; Shakespeare, as
+they would be; and Milton, as they ought to be. The characteristic of
+Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser, remoteness; of Milton, elevation; of
+Shakespeare, everything.
+
+The peculiarity of Shakespeare's mind was its generic quality; its
+power of communication with all other minds, so that it contained a
+universe of thought and feeling within itself. He was just like any
+other man, but he was like all other men. He was the least of an
+egotist that it was possible to be. He was nothing in himself; but he
+was all that others were, or that they could become. His genius shone
+equally on the evil and on the good, on the wise and the foolish, the
+monarch and the beggar. The world of spirits lay open to him, like
+the world of real men and women; and there is the same truth in his
+delineations of the one as of the other. Each of his characters is as
+much itself, and as absolutely independent of the rest, as well as
+of the author, as if they were living persons, not fictions of the
+mind. His plays alone are properly expressions of the passions, not
+descriptions of them.
+
+Chaucer's characters are narrative; Shakespeare's, dramatic; Milton's,
+epic. In Chaucer we perceive a fixed essence of character. In
+Shakespeare there is a continual composition and decomposition of
+its elements, a fermentation of every particle in the whole mass, by
+its alternate affinity or antipathy to other principles which are
+brought in contact with it. Milton took only a few simple principles of
+character, and raised them to the utmost conceivable grandeur.
+
+The passion in Shakespeare is full of dramatic fluctuation. In Chaucer
+it is like the course of a river--strong, full, and increasing; but
+in Shakespeare it is like the sea, agitated this way and that, and
+loud-lashed by furious storms. Milton, on the other hand, takes only
+the imaginative part of passion, that which remains after the event,
+and abstracts it from the world of action to that of contemplation.
+
+The great fault of a modern school of poetry [the Lake poets] is that
+it would reduce poetry to a mere effusion of natural sensibility; or,
+what is worse, would divest it both of imaginary splendour and human
+passion, to surround the meanest objects with the morbid feelings and
+devouring egotism of the writers' own minds. Milton and Shakespeare did
+not so understand poetry. They gave a more liberal interpretation both
+to Nature and art. They did not do all they could to get rid of the one
+and the other, to fill up the dreary void with the moods of their own
+minds.
+
+Shakespeare's imagination is of the same plastic kind as his conception
+of character or passion. Its movement is rapid and devious, and unites
+the most opposite extremes. He seems always hurrying from his subject,
+even while describing it; but the stroke, like the lightning's, is
+as sure as it is sudden. His language and versification are like the
+rest of him. He has a magic power over words; they come winged at his
+bidding, and seem to know their places. His language is hieroglyphical.
+It translates thoughts into visible images. He had an equal genius for
+comedy and tragedy; and his tragedies are better than his comedies,
+because tragedy is better than comedy. His female characters are the
+finest in the world. Lastly, Shakespeare was the least of a coxcomb of
+anyone that ever lived, and much of a gentleman.
+
+Shakespeare discovers in his writings little religious enthusiasm, and
+an indifference to personal reputation; in these respects, as in every
+other, he formed a direct contrast to Milton. Milton's works are a
+perpetual invocation to the muses, a hymn to Fame. He had his thoughts
+constantly fixed on the contemplation of the Hebrew theocracy, and of a
+perfect commonwealth; and he seized the pen with a hand warm from the
+touch of the ark of faith. The spirit of the poet, the patriot, and the
+prophet vied with each other in his breast. He thought of nobler forms
+and nobler things than those he found about him. He strives hard to say
+the finest things in the world, and he does say them. In Milton there
+is always an appearance of effort; in Shakespeare, scarcely any.
+
+Milton has borrowed more than any other writer, and exhausted every
+source of imitation; yet he is perfectly distinct from every other
+writer. The power of his mind is stamped on every line. He describes
+objects of which he could only have read in books with the vividness of
+actual observation.
+
+Milton's blank verse is the only blank verse in the language, except
+Shakespeare's, that deserves the name of verse. The sound of his lines
+is moulded into the expression of the sentiment, almost of the very
+image.
+
+
+_Dryden and Pope_
+
+These are the great masters of the artificial style of poetry, as the
+four poets of whom I have already treated were of the natural, and they
+have produced a kind and degree of excellence which existed equally
+nowhere else.
+
+Pope was a man of exquisite faculties and of the most refined taste;
+he was a wit and critic, a man of sense, of observation, and the
+world. He was the poet not of Nature, but of art. He saw Nature only
+dressed by art; he judged of beauty by fashion; he sought for truth
+in the opinions of the world; he judged of the feelings of others by
+his own. His muse never wandered with safety but from his library to
+his grotto, or from his grotto into his library back again. That which
+was the nearest to him was the greatest; the fashion of the day bore
+sway in his mind over the immutable laws of Nature. He had none of the
+enthusiasm of poetry; he was in poetry what the sceptic is in religion.
+Yet within this narrow circle how much, and that how exquisite, was
+contained! The wrong end of the magnifier is held to everything, but
+still the exhibition is highly curious. If I had to choose, there are
+one or two persons--and but one or two--that I should like to have been
+better than Pope!
+
+Dryden was a bolder and more various versifier than Pope; he had
+greater strength of mind, but he had not the same delicacy of feeling.
+Pope describes the thing, and goes on describing his own descriptions,
+till he loses himself in verbal repetitions; Dryden recurs to the
+object often, and gives us new strokes of character as well as of his
+pencil.
+
+
+_Thomson and Cowper_
+
+Thomson is the best of our descriptive poets; the colours with which
+he paints still seem wet. Nature in his descriptions is seen growing
+around us, fresh and lusty as in itself. He puts his heart into his
+subject, and it is for this reason that he is the most popular of all
+our poets. But his verse is heavy and monotonous; it seems always
+labouring uphill.
+
+Cowper had some advantages over Thomson, particularly in simplicity
+of style, in a certain precision of graphical description, and in a
+more careful choice of topics. But there is an effeminacy about him
+which shrinks from and repels common and hearty sympathy. He shakes
+hands with Nature with a pair of fashionable gloves on; he is delicate
+to fastidiousness, and glad to get back to the drawing-room and the
+ladies, the sofa, and the tea-urn. He was a nervous man; but to be a
+coward is not the way to succeed either in poetry, in war, or in love.
+Still, he is a genuine poet, and deserves his reputation.
+
+
+_Robert Burns_
+
+Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius; but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. He was as much of a man, not a twentieth part as much of a
+poet, as Shakespeare. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel--no more.
+His pictures of good fellowship, of social glee, of quaint humour, are
+equal to anything; they come up to Nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it. His strength is not greater than his weakness; his virtues were
+greater than his vices. His virtues belonged to his genius; his vices
+to his situation.
+
+Nothing could surpass Burns's love-songs in beauty of expression and in
+true pathos, except some of the old Scottish ballads themselves. There
+is in these a still more original cast of thought, a more romantic
+imagery; a closer intimacy with Nature, a more infantine simplicity of
+manners, a greater strength of affection, "thoughts that often lie too
+deep for tears." The old English ballads are of a gayer turn. They are
+adventurous and romantic; but they relate chiefly to good living and
+good fellowship, to drinking and hunting scenes.
+
+
+_Some Contemporary Poets_
+
+Tom Moore is heedless, gay, and prodigal of his poetical wealth.
+Everything lives, moves, and sparkles in his poetry, while, over all,
+love waves his purple light. His levity at last oppresses; his variety
+cloys, his rapidity dazzles and distracts the sight.
+
+Lord Byron's poetry is as morbid as Moore's is careless and dissipated.
+His passion is always of the same unaccountable character, at once
+violent and sullen, fierce and gloomy. It is the passion of a mind
+preying upon itself, and disgusted with, or indifferent to, all other
+things. There is nothing less poetical or more repulsive. But still
+there is power; and power forces admiration. In vigour of style and
+force of conception he surpasses every writer of the present day.
+
+Walter Scott is deservedly the most popular of living poets. He differs
+from his readers only in a greater range of knowledge and facility of
+expression. The force of his mind is picturesque rather than moral. He
+is to the great poet what an excellent mimic is to a great actor.
+
+Mr. Wordsworth is the most original poet now living. His poetry is not
+external, but internal; he furnishes it from his own mind, and is his
+own subject. He is the poet of mere sentiment. Many of the "Lyrical
+Ballads" are of inconceivable beauty, of perfect originality and
+pathos. But his powers have been mistaken by the age. He cannot form a
+whole. He has not the constructive faculty. His "Excursion" is a proof
+of this; the line labours, the sentiment moves slowly, but the poem
+stands stock-still.
+
+The Lake school of poetry had its origin in the French Revolution,
+or rather in the sentiments and opinions which produced that event.
+The world was to be turned topsy-turvy, and poetry was to share its
+fate. The paradox they set out with was that all things are by Nature
+equally fit subjects for poetry, or rather, that the meanest and most
+unpromising are best. They aimed at exciting attention by reversing
+the established standards of estimation in the world. An adept in
+this school of poetry is jealous of all excellence but his own. He is
+slow to admire anything admirable, feels no interest in what is most
+interesting to others, no grandeur in anything grand. He sees nothing
+but himself and the universe. His egotism is, in some respects, a
+madness. The effect of this has been perceived as something odd; but
+the cause or principle has never been traced to its source before. The
+proofs are to be found throughout many of the poems of Mr. Southey, Mr.
+Coleridge, and Mr. Wordsworth.
+
+I may say of Mr. Coleridge that he is the only person I ever knew who
+answered to the idea of a man of genius. But his "Ancient Mariner" is
+the only work that gives an adequate idea of his natural powers. In
+it, however, he seems to "conceive of poetry but as a drunken dream,
+reckless, careless, and heedless of past, present, and to come."
+
+I have thus gone through my task. I have felt my subject sinking from
+under me as I advanced, and have been afraid of ending in nothing.
+The interest has unavoidably decreased at almost every step of the
+progress, like a play that has its catastrophe in the first or second
+act. This, however, I could not help.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
+
+The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table
+
+  In 1857 Oliver Wendell Holmes (see Vol. V, p. 87) leapt into fame
+  by his "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" papers in the "Atlantic
+  Monthly," then edited by Lowell. His "Professor" and "Poet"
+  series of papers followed, with hardly less success. In these
+  writings a robust idealism, humour, fancy, and tenderness are so
+  gently mixed as to amount to genius.
+
+
+_Every Man His Own Boswell_
+
+"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called 'facts.'
+They are the brute beasts of the intellectual domain. Who does not know
+fellows that always have an ill-conditioned fact or two that they lead
+after them into decent company like so many bulldogs, ready to let them
+slip at every ingenious suggestion, or convenient generalisation, or
+pleasant fancy? I allow no 'facts' at this table."
+
+I continued, for I was in the talking vein, "This business of
+conversation is a very serious matter. There are men that it weakens
+one to talk with an hour more than a day's fasting would do. They are
+the talkers that have what may be called jerky minds. After a jolting
+half-hour with one of these jerky companions talking with a dull friend
+affords great relief. It is like taking the cat in your lap after
+holding a squirrel."
+
+"Do not dull people bore you?" said one of the lady boarders.
+
+"Madam," said I, "all men are bores except when we want them. Talking
+is like playing on the harp; there is as much in laying the hand on the
+strings to stop the vibrations as in twanging them to bring out the
+music. There is this, too, about talking," I continued; "it shapes our
+thoughts for us; the waves of conversation roll them as the surf rolls
+the pebbles on the shore. Writing or printing is like shooting with a
+rifle; you may hit your reader's mind, or miss it, but talking is like
+playing at a mark with the pipe of an engine--if it is within reach,
+and you have time enough, you can't help hitting it."
+
+The company agreed that this last illustration was of superior
+excellence.
+
+
+_The Ageing of Ideas_
+
+"I want to make a literary confession now, which I believe nobody
+has made before me. I never wrote a 'good' line in my life, but the
+moment after it was written it seemed a hundred years old. The rapidity
+with which ideas grow old in our memories is in a direct ratio to the
+squares of their importance. A great calamity, for instance, is as old
+as the trilobites an hour after it has happened. It stains backward
+through all the leaves we have turned over in the book of life, before
+its blot of tears or of blood is dry on the page we are turning."
+
+I wish I had not said all this then and there. The pale schoolmistress,
+in her mourning dress, was looking at me with a wild sort of
+expression; and all at once she melted away from her seat like an image
+of snow; a sling shot could not have brought her down better. God
+forgive me!
+
+
+_The Confusion of Personality_
+
+"We must remember that talking is one of the fine arts--the noblest,
+the most important, and the most difficult. It is not easy at the best
+for two persons talking together to make the most of each other's
+thoughts, there are so many of them."
+
+The company looked as if they wanted an explanation.
+
+"When John and Thomas, for instance, are talking together," I
+continued, "it is natural that among the six there should be more or
+less confusion and misapprehension."
+
+Our landlady turned pale. No doubt she thought there was a screw
+loose in my intellect, and that it involved the probable loss of a
+boarder. Everybody looked up, and the old gentleman opposite slid the
+carving-knife to one side, as it were, carelessly.
+
+"I think," I said, "I can make it plain that there are at least six
+personalities distinctly to be recognised as taking part in that
+dialogue between John and Thomas.
+
+
+THREE JOHNS
+
+  1. The real John; known only to his Maker.
+
+  2. John's ideal John; never the real one, and often very unlike
+  him.
+
+  3. Thomas's ideal John; never the real John, nor John's John, but
+  often very unlike either.
+
+
+THREE THOMASES
+
+  1. The real Thomas.
+
+  2. Thomas's ideal Thomas.
+
+  3. John's ideal Thomas.
+
+"It follows that until a man can be found who knows himself as his
+Maker knows him, or who sees himself as others see him, there must be
+at least six persons engaged in every dialogue between two. No wonder
+two disputants often get angry when there are six of them talking and
+listening all at the same time."
+
+A very unphilosophical application of the above remarks was made by
+a young fellow, answering to the name of John, who sits near me at
+table. A certain basket of peaches, a rare vegetable, little known to
+boarding-houses, was on its way to me _via_ this unlettered Johannes.
+He appropriated the three that remained in the basket, remarking that
+there was just one apiece for him. I convinced him that his practical
+inference was hasty and illogical--but in the meantime he had eaten the
+peaches.
+
+
+_More on Books_
+
+"Some of you boarders ask me why I don't write a novel, or something
+of that kind. Well, there are several reasons against it. In the first
+place I should tell all my secrets, and I maintain that verse is the
+proper medium for such revelations. Again, I am terribly afraid I
+should show up all my friends, and I am afraid all my friends would not
+bear showing up very well. And sometimes I have thought I might be too
+dull to write such a story as I should wish to write. And, finally, I
+think it is very likely I _shall_ write a story one of these days.
+
+"I saw you smiled when I spoke about the possibility of my being too
+dull to write a good story. When one arrives at the full and final
+conclusion that he or she is really dull, it is one of the most
+tranquillising and blessed convictions that can enter a mortal's mind.
+
+"How sweetly and honestly one said to me the other day, 'I hate
+books!' I did not recognise in him inferiority of literary taste
+half so distinctly as I did simplicity of character, and fearless
+acknowledgment of his inaptitude for scholarship. In fact, I think
+there are a great many who read, with a mark to keep their place, that
+really 'hate books,' but never had the wit to find it out, or the
+manliness to own it."
+
+
+_Dual Consciousness_
+
+I am so pleased with my boarding-house that I intend to remain here,
+perhaps for years.
+
+"Do thoughts have regular cycles? Take this: All at once a conviction
+flashes through us that we have been in the same precise circumstances
+as at the present instant once or many times before."
+
+When I mentioned this the Schoolmistress said she knew the feeling
+well, and didn't like to experience it; it made her think she was a
+ghost, sometimes.
+
+The young fellow whom they call John said he knew all about it. He
+had just lighted a cheroot the other day when a tremendous conviction
+came over him that he had done just that same thing ever so many times
+before.
+
+"How do I account for it? Well, some think that one of the hemispheres
+of the brain hangs fire, and the small interval between the perceptions
+of the nimble and the sluggish half seems an indefinitely long period,
+and therefore the second perception appears to be the copy of another,
+ever so old."
+
+
+_The Race of Life_
+
+"Nothing strikes one more in the race of life than to see how many give
+out in the first half of the course. 'Commencement day' always reminds
+me of the start of the 'Derby.' Here we are at Cambridge and a class is
+first 'graduating.' Poor Harry! he was to have been there, but he has
+paid forfeit.
+
+"_Ten years gone._ First turn in the race. A few broken down; two or
+three bolted. 'Cassock,' a black colt, seems to be ahead of the rest.
+'Meteor' has pulled up.
+
+"_Twenty years._ Second corner turned. 'Cassock' has dropped from the
+front, and 'Judex,' an iron-grey, has the lead. But look! how they have
+thinned out! Down flat--five--six--how many? They will not get up again
+in this race be very sure!
+
+"_Thirty years._ Third corner turned. 'Dives,' bright sorrel, ridden
+by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to make play fast--is getting
+to be the favourite with many. But who is that other one that now
+shows close up to the front? Don't you remember the quiet brown colt
+'Asteroid,' with the star in his forehead? That is he; he is one of the
+sort that lasts. 'Cassock' is now taking it easily in a gentle trot.
+
+"_Forty years._ More dropping off, but places much as before.
+
+"_Fifty years._ Race over. All that are on the course are coming
+in at a walk; no more running. Who is ahead? Ahead? What! and the
+winning-post a slab of white or gray stone standing out from that turf
+where there is no more jockeying, or straining for victory! Well, the
+world marks their places in its betting-book; but be sure that these
+matter very little, if they have run as well as they knew how!
+
+"I will read you a few lines, if you do not object, suggested by
+looking at a section of one of those chambered shells to which is given
+the name of Pearly Nautilus.
+
+
+THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS
+
+    This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
+        Sails the unshadowed main--
+      The venturous bark that flings
+      On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
+      In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings,
+        And coral reefs lie bare,
+    Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
+
+    Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
+        Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
+      And every chambered cell,
+      Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell,
+      As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
+        Before thee lies revealed--
+    Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!
+
+    Year after year beheld the silent toil
+        That spread his lustrous coil;
+      Still, as the spiral grew,
+      He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
+      Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
+        Built up its idle door,
+    Stretched in his last found home, and knew the old no more.
+
+    Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
+        Child of the wandering sea,
+      Cast from her lap forlorn!
+      From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
+      Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
+        While on mine ear it rings,
+    Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:
+
+    Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
+        As the swift seasons roll!
+      Leave thy low-vaulted past!
+      Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
+      Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
+        Till thou at length art free,
+    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
+
+
+_Sensibility and Scholarship_
+
+"Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which
+they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. The side-door
+opens at once into the sacred chambers. There is almost always at
+least one key to this side-door. This is carried for years hidden in a
+mother's bosom. Be very careful to whom you entrust one of these keys
+of the side-door. Some of those who come in at the side-door have a
+scale of your whole nervous system, and can play on all the gamut of
+your sensibilities in semi-tones. Married life is the school in which
+the most accomplished artists in this department are found. Be very
+careful to whom you give the side-door key.
+
+"The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its
+great scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries,
+if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of
+manhood, and I think if we could ask Abraham to dine with us men of
+letters next Saturday we should feel honoured by his company."
+
+
+_A Growing Romance_
+
+"I should like to make a few intimate revelations relating especially
+to my early life, if I thought you would like to hear them."
+
+The schoolmistress turned in her chair and said, "If we should _like_
+to hear them--we should _love_ to."
+
+So I drew my chair a shade nearer her, and went on to speak of voices
+that had bewitched me.
+
+"I wish you could hear my sister's voice," said the schoolmistress.
+
+"If it is like yours it must be a pleasant one," said I.
+
+Lately she has been walking early and has brought back roses in her
+cheeks. I love the damask rose best of all flowers.
+
+Our talk had been of trees, and I had been comparing the American
+and the English elms in the walk we call the Mall. "Will you walk
+out and look at those elms with me after breakfast?" I said to the
+schoolmistress.
+
+I am not going to tell lies about it, and say that she blushed. On the
+contrary, she turned a little bit pale, but smiled brightly, and said,
+"Yes, with pleasure." So she went to fetch her bonnet, and the old
+gentleman opposite followed her with his eyes, and said he wished he
+was a young fellow.
+
+"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to the corner.
+
+"Then we won't take it," said I.
+
+When we reached the school-room door the damask roses were so much
+heightened in colour by exercise that I felt sure it would be useful to
+her to take a stroll like this every morning.
+
+I have been low-spirited and listless lately. It is coffee, I think. I
+notice that I tell my secrets too easily when I am downhearted. There
+are inscriptions on our hearts never seen except at dead low-tide.
+And there is a woman's footstep on the sand at the side of my deepest
+ocean-buried inscription.
+
+I am not going to say which I like best, the seashore or the mountains.
+The one where your place is, is the best for you; but this difference
+there is--you can domesticate mountains. The sea is feline. It licks
+your feet, its huge flanks purr very pleasantly for you; but it will
+crack your bones and eat you for all that, and wipe the crimsoned foam
+from its jaws as if nothing had happened. The mountains have a grand,
+stupid, lovable tranquillity; the sea has a fascinating, treacherous
+intelligence.
+
+"If I thought I should ever see the Alps!" said the schoolmistress.
+
+"Perhaps you might some time or other," I said.
+
+"It is not very likely," she answered.
+
+_Tableau._ Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures in the foreground,
+two of them standing apart; one of them a gentleman--oh--ah--yes!--the
+other a lady, leaning on his shoulder. (The reader will understand this
+was an internal, private, subjective diorama, seen for one instant on
+the background of my own consciousness.)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I can't say just how many walks she and I had taken together. I found
+the effect of going out every morning was decidedly favourable on her
+health. I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. Better too
+few words from the woman we love than too many; while she is silent,
+Nature is working for her; while she talks she works for herself. Love
+is sparingly soluble in the words of men, therefore they speak much of
+it; but one syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a
+man's heart can hold.
+
+
+_Nature's Patient Advance_
+
+I don't know anything sweeter than the leaking in of Nature through all
+the cracks in the walls and floors of cities. You heap a million tons
+of hewn rocks on a square mile or so of earth which was green once.
+The trees look down from the hill-tops and ask each other, as they
+stand on tiptoe, "What are these people about?" And the small herbs
+look up and whisper back, "We will go and see." So the small herbs pack
+themselves up in the least possible bundles, and wait until the night
+wind steals to them and whispers, "Come with me." Then they go softly
+with it into the great city--one to a cleft in the pavement, one to a
+spout on the roof, one to a seam in the marble over a rich gentleman's
+bones, and one to the grave without a stone, where nothing but a man
+is buried--and there they grow, looking down on the generations of men
+from mouldy roofs, looking up from between the less-trodden pavements,
+looking out through iron cemetery railings.
+
+Listen to them when there is only a light breath stirring, and you will
+hear them saying to each other, "Wait awhile." The words run along the
+telegraph of those narrow green lines that border the roads leading
+from the city, until they reach the slope of the hills, and the trees
+repeat in low murmurs, "Wait awhile." By and by the flow of life in the
+streets ebbs, and the old leafy inhabitants--the smaller tribes always
+in front--saunter in, one by one, very careless seemingly, but very
+tenacious, until they swarm so that the great stones gape from each
+other with the crowding of their roots, and the feldspar begins to be
+picked out of the granite to find them food. At last the trees take up
+their solemn line of march, and never rest until they have camped in
+the market-place. Wait long enough, and you will find an old doting
+oak hugging in its yellow underground arms a huge worn block that
+was the cornerstone of the State-house. Oh, so patient she is, this
+imperturbable Nature!
+
+
+_The Long Path_
+
+It was in talking of life that the schoolmistress and I came nearest
+together. I thought I knew something about that. The schoolmistress had
+tried life, too. Once in a while one meets with a single soul greater
+than all the living pageant that passes before it. This was one of
+them. Fortune had left her, sorrow had baptised her. Yet as I looked
+upon her tranquil face, gradually regaining a cheerfulness that was
+often sprightly, as she became interested in the various matters we
+talked about and places we visited, I saw that eye and lip and every
+shifting lineament were made for love.
+
+I never addressed a word of love to the schoolmistress in the course of
+these pleasant walks. It seemed as if we talked of everything but love
+on that particular morning. There was, perhaps, a little more timidity
+and hesitancy on my part than I have commonly shown among our people
+at the boarding-house. In fact, I considered myself the master at the
+breakfast-table; but somehow I could not command myself just then so
+well as usual. The truth is, I had secured a passage to Liverpool in
+the steamer which was to leave at noon--with the condition of being
+released if circumstances occurred to detain me. The schoolmistress
+knew nothing about this, of course, as yet.
+
+It was on the Common that we were walking. The boulevard of the
+Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in different
+directions. One of these runs across the whole length of the Common. We
+called it the "long path," and were fond of it.
+
+I felt very weak indeed--though of a tolerably robust habit--as we came
+opposite to the head of this path on that morning. I think I tried to
+speak twice, without making myself distinctly audible. At last I got
+out the question, "Will you take the long path with me?" "Certainly,"
+said the schoolmistress, "with much pleasure." "Think," I said, "before
+you answer. If you take the long path with me now, I shall interpret it
+that we are to part no more."
+
+The schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement, as if an arrow
+had struck her. One of the long granite blocks used as seats was hard
+by--the one you may still see close by the gingko-tree. "Pray sit
+down," I said.
+
+"No, no," she answered softly; "I will walk the _long path_ with you!"
+
+The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking, arm-in-arm,
+about the middle of the long path, and said very charmingly to us,
+"Good-morning, my dears!"
+
+
+
+
+LA BRUYERE
+
+Characters
+
+  Jean de la Bruyere was born in Paris, in August, 1645. He studied
+  law and became a barrister, but at the age of twenty-eight gave
+  up that profession, which did not agree with his tendencies
+  to meditation and his scrupulous mind. In 1673, he bought the
+  office of Treasurer of the Finances, and led an independent and
+  studious life. In 1684, he became a tutor to the Duc de Bourbon,
+  grandson of the great Conde, and continued to reside in the Conde
+  household until his death in 1696. In the "Caracteres," which
+  first appeared in 1688, La Bruyere has recorded his impressions
+  of men. In 1687 the manuscript was handed to Michallet, a
+  publisher in whose shop La Bruyere spent many hours every week.
+  "Will you print this?" asked the author. "I don't know whether
+  it will be to your advantage; but should it prove a success,
+  the money will be for my dear friend, your little daughter."
+  The sale of the book produced over $40,000. When La Bruyere was
+  elected a member of the French Academy, his enemies declared
+  that the "Characters" consisted of satirical portraits of
+  leading personalities, and "keys" to the portraits were widely
+  circulated. The pen sketches, however, are not only applicable to
+  that period, but to every age.
+
+
+_I.--On Men and Books_
+
+All has been said, and one comes too late after the seven thousand
+years during which men have existed--and thought. All that one can do
+is to think and speak rightly, without attempting to force one's tastes
+and feelings upon others.
+
+Mediocrity in poetry, music, painting, and oratory is unbearable.
+
+There is in art a certain degree of perfection, as there is in Nature
+an ideal point of matureness. To go beyond, or to remain below that
+degree is faulty.
+
+The ability of a writer consists mainly in giving good definitions and
+apt descriptions. The superiority of Moses, Homer, Plato, Virgil,
+and Horace resides in the beauty of their expressions and images. One
+has to express the truth to write in a natural, powerful, and refined
+manner.
+
+It has taken centuries for men to return to the ideal of the ancients
+and to all that is simple and natural.
+
+We feed on the classics and the able, modern authors. Then, when we
+become authors ourselves, we ill-use our masters, like those children
+who, strengthened by the milk they have suckled, beat their nurses.
+
+Read your works to those who are able to criticise and appreciate them.
+A good and careful writer often finds that the expression he had so
+long looked for was most simple and natural, and one which ought to
+have occurred to him at once and without effort.
+
+The pleasure there is in criticising takes from us the joy of being
+moved by that which is really beautiful.
+
+Arsene, from the top of his mind, looks down upon humanity; and, owing
+to the distance from which he sees men, is almost frightened at their
+smallness. He is so filled with his own sublime thoughts that he hardly
+finds time to deliver a few precious oracles.
+
+Theocrine knows things which are rather useless; his ideas are always
+strange, his memory always at work. He is a supercilious dreamer, and
+always seems to laugh at those whom he considers as his inferiors. I
+read my book to him; he listens. Afterwards, he speaks to me about his
+own book. What does he think of mine? I told you so before: he speaks
+to me of his own work!
+
+What an amazing difference there is between a beautiful book and a
+perfect book!
+
+When a book elevates your mind, and inspires you with noble thoughts,
+you require nothing else to judge it; it is a good and masterly work.
+
+The fools do not understand what they read. The mediocre think they
+understand thoroughly. Great minds do not always understand every page
+of a book; they think obscure that which is obscure, and clear that
+which is clear. The pedantic find obscure that which is not, and refuse
+to understand that which is perfectly clear.
+
+Moliere would have been a perfect writer had he only avoided jargon and
+barbarisms, and written more purely.
+
+Ronsard had in him enough good and bad to form great disciples in prose
+and verse.
+
+Corneille, at his best, is original and inimitable, but he is uneven.
+He had a sublime mind, and has written a few verses which are among the
+best ever written.
+
+Racine is more human. He has imitated the Greek classics, and in his
+tragedies there is simplicity, clearness, and pathos.
+
+Corneille paints men as they ought to be; Racine paints them as they
+are. Corneille is more moral; Racine is more natural. The former, it
+seems, owes much to Sophocles; the latter, to Euripides.
+
+How is it that people at the theatre laugh so freely, and yet are
+ashamed to weep? Is it less natural to be moved by all that is worthy
+of pity than to burst out laughing at all that is ridiculous? Is it
+that we consider it weak to cry, especially when the cause of our
+emotion is an artificial one? But the cause of our laughter at the
+theatre is also artificial. Some persons think it is as childish to
+laugh excessively as to sob.
+
+Not only should plays not be immoral; they should be elevating.
+
+Logic is the art of convincing oneself of some truth. Eloquence is a
+gift of the soul which makes one capable of conquering the hearts and
+minds of the listeners and of making them believe anything one pleases.
+
+He who pays attention only to the taste of his own century thinks more
+of himself than of his writings. One should always aim at perfection.
+If our contemporaries fail to do us justice, posterity may do so.
+
+Horace and Boileau have said all this before. I take your word for it;
+but may I not, after them, "think a true thought," which others will
+think after me?
+
+There are more tools than workers, and among the latter, more bad than
+good ones.
+
+There is, in this world, no task more painful than that of making a
+name for oneself; we die before having even sketched our work. It
+takes, in France, much firmness of purpose and much broadmindedness
+to be indifferent to public functions and offices, and to consent to
+remain at home and do nothing.
+
+Hardly anyone has enough merit to assume that part in a dignified
+manner, or enough brains to fill the gap of time without what is
+generally called business.
+
+All that is required is a better name for idleness; and that
+meditation, conversation, reading, and repose should be called work.
+
+You tell me that there is gold sparkling on Philemon's clothes. So
+there is on the clothes at the draper's. He is covered with the most
+gorgeous fabrics. I can see those fabrics in the shops. But the
+embroidery and ornaments on Philemon's clothes further increase their
+magnificence. If so, I praise the embroiderer's workmanship. If someone
+asks him the time, he takes from his pocket a jewelled watch; the hilt
+of his sword is made of onyx; he displays a dazzling diamond on his
+finger and wears all the curious and pretty trifles of fashion and
+vanity. You arouse my interest at last. I ought to see those precious
+things. Send me the clothes and jewels of Philemon; I don't require to
+see _him_.
+
+It is difficult to tell the hero from the great man at war. Both have
+military virtues. However, the former is generally young, enterprising,
+gifted, self-controlled even in danger, and courageous; the latter has
+much judgment, foresees events, and is endowed with much ability and
+experience. Perhaps one might say that Alexander was only a hero and
+that Caesar was a great man.
+
+Menippe is a bird adorned with feathers which are not his own. He
+has nothing to say; he has no feelings, no thoughts. He repeats what
+others have said, and uses their ideas so instinctively that he
+deceives himself, and is his first victim. He often believes that he
+is expressing his own thoughts, while he is only an echo of someone
+whom he has just left. He believes childishly that the amount of wit he
+possesses is all that man ever possessed. He therefore looks like a man
+who has nothing to desire.
+
+
+_II.--On Women and Wealth_
+
+From the age of thirteen to the age of twenty-one, a girl wishes she
+were beautiful; afterwards she wishes she were a man.
+
+An unfaithful woman is a woman who has ceased to love.
+
+A light-hearted woman is a woman who already loves another.
+
+A fickle woman is a woman who does not know whether she loves or not,
+and who does not know what or whom she loves.
+
+An indifferent woman is a woman who loves nothing.
+
+There is a false modesty which is vanity; a false glory which is
+light-mindedness; a false greatness which is smallness; a false virtue
+which is hypocrisy; a false wisdom which is prudishness.
+
+Why make men responsible for the fact that women are ignorant? Have
+any laws or decrees been issued forbidding them to open their eyes, to
+read, to remember what they have read, and to show that they understood
+it in their conversations and their works? Have they not themselves
+decided to know little or nothing, because of their physical weakness,
+or the sluggishness of their minds; because of the time their beauty
+requires; because of their light-mindedness which prevents them from
+studying; because they have only talent and genius for needlework or
+house-managing; or because they instinctively dislike all that is
+earnest and demands some effort?
+
+Women go to extremes. They are better or worse than men.
+
+Women go farther than men in love; but men make better friends.
+
+It is because of men that women dislike one another.
+
+It is nothing for a woman to say what she does not mean; it is easier
+still for a man to say all what he thinks.
+
+Time strengthens the ties of friendship and loosens those of love.
+
+There is less distance between hatred and love than between dislike and
+love.
+
+One can no more decide to love for ever than decide never to love at
+all.
+
+One comes across men who irritate one by their ridiculous expressions,
+the strangeness and unfitness of the words they use. Their weird jargon
+becomes to them a natural language. They are delighted with themselves
+and their wit. True, they have some wit, but one pities them for having
+so little of it; and, what is more, one suffers from it.
+
+Arrias has read and seen everything, and he wants people to know it.
+He is a universal man; he prefers to lie rather than keep silent or
+appear ignorant about something. The subject of the conversation is the
+court of a certain northern country. He at once starts talking, and
+speaks of it as if he had been born in that country; he gives details
+on the manners and customs, the women and the laws: he tells anecdotes
+and laughs loudly at his own wit. Someone ventures to contradict him
+and proves to him that he is not accurate in his statements. Arrias
+turns to the interrupter: "I am telling nothing that is not exact," he
+says. "I heard all those details from Sethon, ambassador of France to
+that court. Sethon returned recently; I know him well, and had a long
+conversation with him on this matter." Arrias was resuming his story
+with more confidence than ever, when one of the guests said to him: "I
+am Sethon, and have just returned from my mission."
+
+Cleante is a most honest man. His wife is the most reasonable person
+in the world. Both make everybody happy wherever they go, and it were
+impossible to find a more delightful and refined couple. Yet they
+separate to-morrow!
+
+At thirty you think about making your fortune; at fifty you have not
+made it; when you are old, you start building, and you die while the
+painters are still at work.
+
+Numberless persons ruin themselves by gambling, and tell you coolly
+they cannot live without gambling. What nonsense! Would it be allowed
+to say that one cannot live without stealing, murdering, or leading a
+riotous existence?
+
+Giton has a fresh complexion, and an aggressive expression. He is
+broad-shouldered and corpulent. He speaks with confidence. He blows his
+nose noisily, spits to a great distance, and sneezes loudly. He sleeps
+a great deal, and snores whenever he pleases. When he takes a walk with
+his equals he occupies the centre; when he stops, they stop; when he
+advances again, they do the same. No one ever interrupts him. He is
+jovial, impatient, haughty, irritable, independent. He believes himself
+witty and gifted. He is rich.
+
+Phedon has sunken eyes. He is thin, and his cheeks are hollow. He
+sleeps very little. He is a dreamer, and, although witty, looks stupid.
+He forgets to say what he knows, and when he does speak, speaks badly.
+He shares the opinion of others; he runs, he flies to oblige anyone; he
+is kind and flattering. He is superstitious, scrupulous, and bashful.
+He walks stealthily, speaks in a low voice, and takes no room. He can
+glide through the densest crowd without effort. He coughs, and blows
+his nose inside his hat, and waits to sneeze until he is alone. He is
+poor.
+
+
+_III.--On Men and Manners_
+
+Paris is divided into a number of small societies which are like so
+many republics. They have their own customs, laws, language, and even
+their own jokes.
+
+One grows up, in towns, in a gross ignorance of all that concerns the
+country. City-bred men are unable to tell hemp from flax, and wheat
+from rye. We are satisfied as long as we can feed and dress.
+
+When we speak well of a man at court, we invariably do so for two
+reasons: firstly, in order that he may hear that we spoke well of him;
+secondly, in order that he may speak well of us in his turn.
+
+To be successful and to secure high offices there are two ways: the
+high-road, on which most people pass; and the cross-road, which is the
+shorter.
+
+The youth of a prince is the origin of many fortunes.
+
+Court is where joys are evident, but artificial; where sorrows are
+concealed, but real.
+
+A slave has one master; an ambitious man has as many as there are
+persons who may be useful to him in his career.
+
+With five or six art terms, people give themselves out as experts in
+music, painting, and architecture.
+
+The high opinions people have of the great and mighty is so blind, and
+their interest in their gestures, features, and manners so general,
+that if the mighty were only good, the devotion of the people to them
+would amount to worship.
+
+Lucile prefers to waste his life as the protege of a few aristocrats
+than to live on familiar terms with his peers.
+
+It is advisable to say nothing of the mighty. If you speak well of
+them, it is flattery. It is dangerous to speak ill of them during their
+lifetime, and it is cowardly to do so after they are dead.
+
+Life is short and annoying. We spend life wishing.
+
+When life is wretched, it is hard to bear; when it is happy, it is
+dreadful to lose it. The one alternative is as bad as the other.
+
+Death occurs only once, but makes itself felt at every moment of our
+life. It is more painful to fear it than to suffer it.
+
+There are but three events for man: birth, life, and death. He does not
+realise his birth, he suffers when he dies, and he forgets to live.
+
+We seek our happiness outside ourselves. We seek it in the opinions of
+men whom we know are flatterers, and who lack sincerity. What folly!
+Most men spend half their lives making the other half miserable.
+
+It is easier for many men to acquire one thousand virtues than to get
+rid of one defect.
+
+It is as difficult to find a conceited man who believes himself really
+happy as to discover a modest man who thinks himself too unhappy.
+
+The birch is necessary to children. Grown-up men need a crown, a
+sceptre, velvet caps and fur-lined robes. Reason and justice devoid of
+ornaments would not be imposing or convincing. Man, who is a mind, is
+led by his eyes and his ears!
+
+
+_IV.--On Customs and Religion_
+
+Fashion in matters of food, health, taste and conscience is utterly
+foolish. Game is at present out of fashion, and condemned as a
+food. It is to-day a sin against fashion to be cured of the ague by
+blood-letting.
+
+The conceited man thinks every day of the way in which he will be able
+to attract attention on the following day. The philosopher leaves the
+matter of his clothes to his tailor. It is just as childish to avoid
+fashion as to follow its decrees too closely.
+
+Fashion exists in the domain of religion.
+
+There have been young ladies who were virtuous, healthy and pious, who
+wished to enter a convent, but who were not rich enough to take in a
+wealthy abbey the vows of poverty.
+
+How many men one sees who are strong and righteous, who would never
+listen to the entreaties of their friends, but who are easily
+influenced and corrupted by women.
+
+I would like to hear a sober, moderate, chaste, righteous man declare
+that there is no God. At least he would be speaking in a disinterested
+manner. But there is no such man to be found.
+
+The fact that I am unable to prove that God does not exist establishes
+for me the fact that God does exist.
+
+Atheism does not exist. If there were real atheists, it would merely
+prove that there are monsters in this world.
+
+Forty years ago I didn't exist, and it was not within my power to
+be born. It does not depend upon me who now exist to be no more.
+Consequently, I began being and am going on being, thanks to something
+which is beyond me, which will last after me, which is mightier than I
+am. If that something is not God, pray tell me what it is.
+
+Everything is great and worthy of admiration in Nature.
+
+O you vain and conceited man, make one of these worms which you
+despise! You loathe toads; make a toad if you can!
+
+Kings, monarchs, potentates, sacred majesties, have I given you all
+your supreme names? We, mere men, require some rain for our crops or
+even some dew; make some dew, send to the earth a drop of water!
+
+A certain inequality in the destinies of men, which maintains order and
+obedience, is the work of God. It suggests a divine law.
+
+If the reader does not care for these "characters," it will surprise
+me; if he does care for them, it will also surprise me.
+
+
+
+
+WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR
+
+Imaginary Conversations
+
+  Walter Savage Landor, writer, scholar, poet, and, it might
+  almost be said, quarreller, said of his own fame, "I shall dine
+  late, but the dining-room will be well lighted, the guests few
+  and select." A powerful, turbulent spirit, he attracted great
+  men. Emerson, Browning, Dickens, and Swinburne travelled to sit
+  at his feet, and he knew Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Lamb, and
+  Southey. Born at Warwick, on January 30, 1775, he was dismissed
+  from Rugby School at the age of fifteen, and from Oxford at the
+  age of nineteen; was estranged from his father; several times
+  left the wife whom he had married for her golden hair, and spent
+  the last years of his life, lonely but lionised, at Florence. To
+  the last--which came on September 17, 1864--he wrote both prose
+  and verse. Landor appears, to the average appreciator of English
+  literature, an interesting personality rather than a great
+  writer, though his epic, "Gebir" (1798), and his tragedy, "Count
+  Julian" (1812), like some of his minor verse, contain passages
+  of great beauty. But it was in the "Imaginary Conversations,"
+  written between 1821 and 1829, and first sampled by the public
+  in review form in 1823, that he endowed the English language
+  with his most permanent achievement. Nearly 150 of these
+  "Conversations" were written in all, and we epitomise here five
+  of the best-known.
+
+
+_I.--Peter the Great and Alexis_
+
+PETER: And so, after flying from thy father's house, thou hast returned
+again from Vienna. After this affront in the face of Europe, thou
+darest to appear before me?
+
+ALEXIS: My emperor and father! I am brought before your majesty not at
+my own desire.
+
+PETER: I believe it well. What hope hast thou, rebel, in thy flight to
+Vienna?
+
+ALEXIS: The hope of peace and privacy; the hope of security, and, above
+all things, of never more offending you.
+
+PETER: Didst thou take money?
+
+ALEXIS: A few gold pieces. Hitherto your liberality, my father, hath
+supplied my wants of every kind.
+
+PETER: Not of wisdom, not of duty, not of spirit, not of courage, not
+of ambition. I have educated thee among my guards and horses, among
+my drums and trumpets, among my flags and masts. I have rolled cannon
+balls before thee over iron plates; I have shown thee bright new arms,
+bayonets, and sabres. I have myself led thee forth to the window when
+fellows were hanged and shot; and I have made thee, in spite of thee,
+look steadfastly upon them, incorrigible coward! Thy intention, I know,
+is to subvert the institutions it has been the labour of my lifetime to
+establish. Thou hast never rejoiced at my victories.
+
+ALEXIS: I have rejoiced at your happiness and your safety.
+
+PETER: Liar! Coward! Traitor! When the Polanders and the Swedes fell
+before me, didst thou congratulate me? Didst thou praise the Lord of
+Hosts? Wert thou not silent and civil and low-spirited?
+
+ALEXIS: I lamented the irretrievable loss of human life, I lamented
+that the bravest and noblest were swept away the first, that order
+was succeeded by confusion, and that your majesty was destroying the
+glorious plans you alone were capable of devising.
+
+PETER: Of what plans art thou speaking?
+
+ALEXIS: Of civilising the Muscovites. The Polanders in parts were
+civilised; the Swedes more than any other nation.
+
+PETER: Civilised, forsooth? Why the robes of the metropolitan, him at
+Upsal, are not worth three ducats. But I am wasting my words. Thine are
+tenets that strike at the root of politeness and sound government.
+
+ALEXIS: When I hear the God of Mercy invoked to massacres, and thanked
+for furthering what He reprobates and condemns--I look back in vain on
+any barbarous people for worse barbarism.
+
+PETER: Malignant atheist! Am I Czar of Muscovy, and hear discourse on
+reason and religion--from my own son, too? No, by the Holy Trinity!
+thou art no son of mine. Unnatural brute, I have no more to do with
+thee. Ho there! Chancellor! What! Come at last! Wert napping, or
+counting thy ducats?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's will, and pleasure!
+
+PETER: Is the senate assembled?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Every member, sire.
+
+PETER: Conduct this youth with thee, and let them judge him; thou
+understandest?
+
+CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's commands are the breath of our nostrils.
+
+PETER: If these rascals are amiss, I will try my new cargo of Livonian
+hemp upon 'em.
+
+CHANCELLOR (_returning_): Sire! Sire!
+
+PETER: Speak, fellow! Surely they have not condemned him to death
+without giving themselves time to read the accusation, that thou comest
+back so quickly.
+
+CHANCELLOR: No, sire! Nor has either been done.
+
+PETER: Then thy head quits thy shoulders.
+
+CHANCELLOR: O sire! he fell.
+
+PETER: Tie him up to thy chair, then. Cowardly beast! What made him
+fall?
+
+CHANCELLOR: The hand of death.
+
+PETER: Prythee speak plainlier.
+
+CHANCELLOR: He said calmly, but not without sighing twice or thrice,
+"Lead me to the scaffold; I am weary of life. My father says, too
+truly, I am not courageous, but the death that leads me to my God shall
+never terrify me." When he heard your majesty's name accusing him of
+treason and attempts at parricide, he fell speechless. We raised him
+up: he was dead!
+
+PETER: Inconsiderate and barbarous varlet as thou art, dost thou recite
+this ill accident to a father--and to one who has not dined? Bring me a
+glass of brandy. Away and bring it: scamper! Hark ye! bring the bottle
+with it: and--hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some pickled
+sturgeon, and some krout and caviar.
+
+
+_II.--Joseph Scaliger and Montaigne_
+
+MONTAIGNE: What could have brought you, M. de l'Escale, other than a
+good heart? You rise early, I see; you must have risen with the sun, to
+be here at this hour. I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in
+Auvergne. Pierre, thou hast done well; set it upon the table, and tell
+Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil them.
+
+SCALIGER: This, I perceive, is the ante-chamber to your library; here
+are your every-day books.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Faith! I have no other. These are plenty, methinks.
+
+SCALIGER: You have great resources within yourself, and therefore can
+do with fewer.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Why, how many now do you think here may be?
+
+SCALIGER: I did not believe at first that there could be above
+fourscore.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Well! are fourscore few? Are we talking of peas and beans?
+
+SCALIGER: I and my father (put together) have written well-nigh as many.
+
+MONTAIGNE: Ah! to write them is quite another thing. How do you like my
+wine? If you prefer your own country wine, only say it. I have several
+bottles in my cellar. I do not know, M. de l'Escale, whether you are
+particular in these matters?
+
+SCALIGER: I know three things--wine, poetry, and the world.
+
+MONTAIGNE: You know one too many, then. I hardly know whether I know
+anything about poetry; for I like Clem Marot better than Ronsard.
+
+SCALIGER: It pleases me greatly that you like Marot. His version of
+the Psalms is lately set to music, and added to the New Testament of
+Geneva.
+
+MONTAIGNE: It is putting a slice of honeycomb into a barrel of vinegar,
+which will never grow the sweeter for it.
+
+SCALIGER: Surely, you do not think in this fashion of the New Testament?
+
+MONTAIGNE: Who supposes it? Whatever is mild and kindly is there. But
+Jack Calvin has thrown bird-lime and vitriol upon it, and whoever but
+touches the cover dirties his fingers or burns them.
+
+SCALIGER: Calvin is a very great man.
+
+MONTAIGNE: I do not like your great men who beckon me to them, call me
+their begotten, their dear child, and their entrails; and, if I happen
+to say on any occasion, "I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little from
+you," stamp and cry, "The devil you do!" and whistle to the executioner.
+
+SCALIGER: John Calvin is a grave man, orderly, and reasonable.
+
+MONTAIGNE: In my opinion he has not the order nor the reason of my
+cook. Mat never twitched God by the sleeve and swore He should not have
+his own way.
+
+SCALIGER: M. de Montaigne, have you ever studied the doctrine of
+predestination?
+
+MONTAIGNE: I should not understand it if I had; and I would not break
+through an old fence merely to get into a cavern. Would it make me
+honester or happier, or, in other things, wiser?
+
+SCALIGER: I do not know whether it would materially.
+
+MONTAIGNE: I should be an egregious fool, then, to care about it. Come,
+walk about with me; after a ride you can do nothing better to take off
+fatigue. I can show you nothing but my house and my dairy.
+
+SCALIGER: Permit me to look a little at those banners. They remind me
+of my own family, we being descended from the great Cane della Scala,
+Prince of Verona, and from the House of Hapsburg, as you must have
+heard from my father.
+
+MONTAIGNE: What signifies it to the world whether the great Cane was
+tied to his grandmother or not? As for the House of Hapsburg, if you
+could put together as many such houses as would make up a city larger
+than Cairo, they would not be worth his study, or a sheet of paper on
+the table of it.
+
+
+_III.--Bossuet and the Duchesse de Fontanges_
+
+BOSSUET: Mademoiselle, it is the king's desire that I compliment you on
+the elevation you have attained.
+
+FONTANGES: O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His majesty
+is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was,
+"Angelique! do not forget to compliment monseigneur the bishop on
+the dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the dauphiness.
+I desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank
+sufficient to confess you, now you are duchess." You are so agreeable a
+man, monseigneur, I will confess to you, directly.
+
+BOSSUET: Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young
+lady?
+
+FONTANGES: What is that?
+
+BOSSUET: Do you hate sin?
+
+FONTANGES: Very much.
+
+BOSSUET: Do you hate the world?
+
+FONTANGES: A good deal of it; all Picardy, for example, and all
+Sologne; nothing is uglier--and, oh my life! what frightful men and
+women!
+
+BOSSUET: I would say in plain language, do you hate the flesh and the
+devil?
+
+FONTANGES: Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the
+while, I will tell him so--"I hate you, beast!" There now. As for
+flesh, I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor
+hunt, nor do anything that I know of.
+
+BOSSUET: Mademoiselle Marie Angelique de Scoraille de Rousille,
+Duchesse de Fontanges! Do you hate titles, and dignities, and yourself?
+
+FONTANGES: Myself! Does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first?
+Hatred is the worst thing in the world; it makes one so very ugly.
+
+BOSSUET: We must detest our bodies if we would save our souls.
+
+FONTANGES: That is hard. How can I do it? I see nothing so detestable
+in mine. Do you? As God hath not hated me, why should I? As for titles
+and dignities, I am glad to be a duchess. Would not you rather be a
+duchess than a waiting-maid if the king gave you your choice?
+
+BOSSUET: Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am confounded at the levity of your
+question. If you really have anything to confess, and desire that I
+should have the honour of absolving you, it would be better to proceed.
+
+FONTANGES: You must first direct me, monseigneur. I have nothing
+particular. What was it that dropped on the floor as you were speaking?
+
+BOSSUET: Leave it there!
+
+FONTANGES: Your ring fell from your hand, my lord bishop! How quick you
+are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up?
+
+BOSSUET: Madame is too condescending. My hand is shrivelled; the ring
+has ceased to fit it. A pebble has moved you more than my words.
+
+FONTANGES: It pleases me vastly. I admire rubies. I will ask the king
+for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the
+chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall
+ask him. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess
+to you with it upon my finger. But, first, I must be cautious and
+particular to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should
+say.
+
+
+_IV.--The Empress Catharine and Princess Dashkof_
+
+CATHARINE: Into his heart! Into his heart! If he escapes, we perish!
+Do you think, Dashkof, they can hear me through the double door? Yes,
+hark! they heard me. They have done it! What bubbling and gurgling!
+He groaned but once. Listen! His blood is busier now than it ever was
+before. I should not have thought it could have splashed so loud upon
+the floor. Put you ear against the lock.
+
+DASHKOF: I hear nothing.
+
+CATHARINE: My ears are quicker than yours, and know these notes better.
+Let me come. There! There again! The drops are now like lead. How now?
+Which of these fools has brought his dog with him? What trampling and
+lapping! The creature will carry the marks all about the palace with
+his feet! You turn pale, and tremble. You should have supported me, in
+case I had required it.
+
+DASHKOF: I thought only of the tyrant. Neither in life nor in death
+could any one of these miscreants make me tremble. But the husband
+slain by his wife! What will Russia--what will Europe say?
+
+CATHARINE: Russia has no more voice than a whale. She may toss about in
+her turbulence, but my artillery (for now, indeed, I can safely call it
+mine) shall stun and quiet her.
+
+DASHKOF: I fear for your renown.
+
+CATHARINE: Europe shall be informed of my reasons, if she should ever
+find out that I countenanced the conspiracy. She shall be persuaded
+that her repose made the step necessary; that my own life was in
+danger; that I fell upon my knees to soften the conspirators; that only
+when I had fainted, the horrible deed was done.
+
+DASHKOF: Europe may be more easily subjugated than duped.
+
+CATHARINE: She shall be both, God willing! Is the rouge off my face?
+
+DASHKOF: It is rather in streaks and mottles, excepting just under the
+eyes, where it sits as it should do.
+
+CATHARINE: I am heated and thirsty. I cannot imagine how. I think
+we have not yet taken our coffee. I could eat only a slice of melon
+at breakfast--my duty urged me _then_--and dinner is yet to come.
+Remember, I am to faint at the midst of it, when the intelligence comes
+in, or, rather, when, in despite of every effort to conceal it from
+me, the awful truth has flashed upon my mind. Remember, too, you are
+to catch me, and to cry for help, and to tear those fine flaxen hairs
+which we laid up together on the toilet; and we are both to be as
+inconsolable as we can be for the life of us.
+
+Come, sing. I know not how to fill up the interval. Two long hours yet!
+How stupid and tiresome! I wish all things of the sort could be done
+and be over in a day. They are mightily disagreeable when by nature one
+is not cruel. People little know my character. I have the tenderest
+heart upon earth. Ivan must follow next; he is heir to the throne.
+But not now. Another time. Two such scenes together, and without some
+interlude, would perplex people.
+
+I thought we spoke of singing. Do not make me wait. Cannot you sing as
+usual, without smoothing your dove's throat with your handkerchief, and
+taking off your necklace? Sing, sing! I am quite impatient!
+
+
+_V.--Bacon and Richard Hooker_
+
+BACON: Hearing much of your worthiness and wisdom, Master Richard
+Hooker, I have besought your comfort and consolation in this my too
+heavy affliction, for we often do stand in need of hearing what we
+know full well, and our own balsams must be poured into our breasts by
+another's hand. Withdrawn, as you live, from court and courtly men,
+and having ears occupied by better reports than such as are flying
+about me, yet haply so hard a case as mine, befalling a man heretofore
+not averse from the studies in which you take delight, may have touched
+you with some concern.
+
+HOOKER: I do think, my lord of Verulam, that the day which in his
+wisdom he appointed for your trial was the very day on which the
+king's majesty gave unto your ward and custody the great seal of his
+English realm. And--let me utter it without offence--your features and
+stature were from that day forward no longer what they were before.
+Such an effect do rank and power and office produce even on prudent and
+religious men. You, my lord, as befits you, are smitten and contrite;
+but I know that there is always a balm which lies uppermost in these
+afflictions.
+
+BACON: Master Richard, it is surely no small matter to lose the respect
+of those who looked up to us for countenance; and the favour of a right
+learned king, and, O Master Hooker, such a power of money! But money
+is mere dross. I should always hold it so, if it possessed not two
+qualities--that of making men treat us reverently, and that of enabling
+us to help the needy.
+
+HOOKER: The respect, I think, of those who respect us for what a fool
+can give and a rogue can take away, may easily be dispensed with; but
+it is indeed a high prerogative to help the needy, and when it pleases
+the Almighty to deprive us of it, he hath removed a most fearful
+responsibility.
+
+BACON: Methinks it beginneth to rain, Master Richard. What if we
+comfort our bodies with a small cup of wine, against the ill-temper of
+the air. Pledge me; hither comes our wine.(_To the servant_) Dolt! Is
+not this the beverage I reserve for myself?
+
+Bear with me, good Master Hooker, but verily I have little of this
+wine, and I keep it as a medicine for my many and growing infirmities.
+You are healthy at present: God, in His infinite mercy, long maintain
+you so! Weaker drink is more wholesome for you. But this Malmsey, this
+Malmsey, flies from centre to circumference, and makes youthful blood
+boil.
+
+HOOKER: Of a truth, my knowledge in such matters is but sparse. My
+lord of Canterbury once ordered part of a goblet, containing some
+strong Spanish wine, to be taken to me from his table when I dined by
+sufferance with his chaplains, and, although a most discreet, prudent
+man, as befitteth his high station, was not so chary of my health as
+your lordship. Wine is little to be trifled with; physic less. The
+Cretans, the brewers of this Malmsey, have many aromatic and powerful
+herbs among them. On their mountains, and notably on Ida, grows that
+dittany which works such marvels, and which perhaps may give activity
+to this hot medicinal drink of theirs. I would not touch it knowingly;
+an unregarded leaf dropped into it above the ordinary might add such
+puissance to the concoction as almost to break the buckles in my shoes.
+
+BACON: When I read of such things I doubt them: but if I could procure
+a plant of dittany I would persuade my apothecary and my gamekeeper to
+make experiments.
+
+HOOKER: I dare not distrust what grave writers have declared in matters
+beyond my knowledge.
+
+BACON: Good Master Hooker, I have read many of your reasonings, and
+they are admirably well sustained. Yet forgive me, in God's name my
+worthy master, if you descried in me some expression of wonder at your
+simplicity. You would define to a hair's breadth the qualities, states,
+and dependencies of principalities, dominations, and powers; you would
+be unerring about the apostles and the churches, and 'tis marvellous
+how you wander about a pot-herb!
+
+HOOKER: I know my poor, weak intellects, most noble lord, and how
+scantily they have profited by my hard painstaking. Wisdom consisteth
+not in knowing many things, nor even in knowing them thoroughly, but
+in choosing and in following what conduces the most certainly to our
+lasting happiness and true glory.
+
+BACON: I have observed among the well-informed and the ill-informed
+nearly the same quantity of infirmities and follies; those who are
+rather the wiser keep them separate, and those who are wisest of all
+keep them better out of sight. I have persuaded men, and shall persuade
+them for ages, that I possess a wide range of thought unexplored by
+others, and first thrown open by me, with many fair enclosures of
+choice and abstruse knowledge. One subject, however, hath almost
+escaped me, and surely one worth the trouble.
+
+HOOKER: Pray, my lord, if I am guilty of no indiscretion, what may it
+be?
+
+BACON: Francis Bacon.
+
+
+
+
+LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+
+Reflections and Moral Maxims
+
+  Rochefoucauld's "Reflections, or Sentences and Moral Maxims,"
+  were published in 1665. In them his philosophy of life is
+  expressed with a perfection of form which still remains
+  unrivalled and unequalled. The original work contains only 314
+  short sentences; the last edition he published contains 541; but
+  when one examines the exquisite workmanship of his style, one
+  does not wonder that it represents the labour of twenty years. La
+  Rochefoucauld (see Vol. X, p. 203) is one of the greatest masters
+  of French prose, as well as one of the great masters of cynicism.
+  He has exerted a deep influence both on English and French
+  literature, and Swift and Byron were among his disciples.
+
+
+_I.--Of Love and of Women_
+
+To judge love by most of its effects, it seems more like hatred than
+kindness.
+
+In love we often doubt of what we most believe.
+
+As long as we love, we forgive.
+
+Love is like fire, it cannot be without continual motion; as soon as it
+ceases to hope or fear it ceases to exist.
+
+Many persons would never have been in love had they never heard talk of
+it.
+
+Agreeable and pleasant as love is, it pleases more by the manners in
+which it shows itself than by itself alone.
+
+We pass on from love to ambition; we seldom return from ambition to
+love.
+
+Those who have had a great love affair find themselves all their life
+happy and unhappy at being cured of it.
+
+In love the one who is first cured is best cured.
+
+The reason why lovers are never weary of talking of each other is that
+they are always talking of themselves.
+
+Constancy in love is a perpetual inconstancy which makes our heart
+attach itself in succession to all the qualities of our beloved, and
+prefer, now this trait and now that; so that this constancy is only a
+kind of inconstancy fixed and enclosed in a single object.
+
+If there is a love pure and exempt from all mixture with our other
+passions, it is that which is hidden in the depth of our heart and
+unknown to ourselves.
+
+The pleasure of love consists in loving, and our own passion gives us
+more happiness than the feelings which our beloved has for us.
+
+The grace of novelty is to love like the fine bloom on fruit; it gives
+it a lustre which is easily effaced and never recovered.
+
+We are nearer loving those who hate us than those who love us more than
+we desire.
+
+Women often fancy themselves to be in love when they are not. Their
+natural passion for being beloved, their unwillingness to give a
+denial, the excitement of mind produced by an affair of gallantry, all
+these make them imagine they are in love when they are in fact only
+coquetting.
+
+All women are flirts. Some are restrained by timidity and some by
+reason.
+
+The greatest miracle of love is the reformation of a coquette.
+
+A coquette pretends to be jealous of her lover, in order to conceal her
+envy of other women.
+
+Most women yield more from weakness than from passion, hence an
+enterprising man usually succeeds with them better than an amiable man.
+
+It is harder for women to overcome their coquetry than their love. No
+woman knows how much of a coquette she is.
+
+Women who are in love more readily forgive great indiscretions than
+small infidelities.
+
+Some people are so full of themselves that even when they become lovers
+they find a way of being occupied with their passion without being
+interested in the person whom they love.
+
+It is useless to be young without being beautiful, or beautiful without
+being young.
+
+In their first love affairs women love their lover; in all others they
+love love.
+
+In the old age of love, as in the old age of life, we continue to live
+to pain long after we have ceased to live to pleasure.
+
+There is no passion in which self-love reigns so powerfully as in love;
+we are always more ready to sacrifice the repose of a person we love
+than to lose our own.
+
+There is a certain kind of love which, as it grows excessive, leaves no
+room for jealousy.
+
+Jealousy is born with love, but it does not always die with it.
+
+Jealousy is the greatest of all afflictions, and that which least
+excites pity in the persons that cause it.
+
+In love and in friendship we are often happier by reason of the things
+that we do not know than by those that we do.
+
+There are few women whose merit lasts longer than their beauty.
+
+The reason why most women are little touched by friendship is that
+friendship is insipid to those who have felt what love is.
+
+
+_II.--Friendship_
+
+In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find something that
+does not displease us.
+
+Rare as true love is, it is less rare than true friendship.
+
+What makes us so changing in our friendships is that it is difficult to
+discern the qualities of the soul, and easy to recognize the qualities
+of the mind.
+
+It is equally difficult to have a friendship for those whom we do not
+esteem as for those we esteem more than ourselves.
+
+We love those who admire us, not those whom we admire.
+
+Most of the friendships of the world ill deserve the name of
+friendship; still, a man may make occasional use of them, as in a
+business where the profits are uncertain and it is usual to be cheated.
+
+It is more dishonourable to mistrust a friend than to be deceived by
+him.
+
+We are fond of exaggerating the love our friends bear us, but it is
+less from a feeling of gratitude than from a desire to advertise our
+own merits.
+
+What usually hinders us from revealing the depths of our hearts to
+our friends is not so much the distrust which we have of them as the
+distrust that we have of ourselves.
+
+We confess our little defects merely to persuade our friends that we
+have no great failings.
+
+The greatest effort of friendship is not to show our defects to a
+friend, but to make him see his own.
+
+Sincerity is an opening of the heart. It is found in exceedingly few
+people, and what passes for it is only a subtle dissimulation used to
+attract confidence.
+
+We can love nothing except in relation to ourselves, and we merely
+follow our own bent and pleasure when we prefer our friends to
+ourselves; yet it is only by this preference that friendship can be
+made true and perfect.
+
+It seems as if self-love is the dupe of kindness and that it is
+forgotten while we are working for the benefit of other men. In this
+case, however, our self-love is merely taking the safest road to arrive
+at its ends; it is lending at usury under the pretext of giving, it is
+aiming at winning all the world by subtle and delicate means.
+
+The first impulses of joy excited in us by the good fortune of our
+friends proceed neither from our good nature nor from the friendship
+we have for them; it is an effect of self-love that flatters us with
+the hope either of being fortunate in our turn or of drawing some
+advantage from their prosperity.
+
+What makes us so eager to form new acquaintances is not the mere
+pleasure of change or a weariness of old friendships, so much as a
+disgust at not being enough admired by those who know us too well, and
+a hope of winning more admiration from persons who do not know much
+about us.
+
+
+_III.--Things of the Mind_
+
+The mind is always the dupe of the heart. Those who are acquainted with
+their own mind are not acquainted with their own heart.
+
+The mind is more indolent than the body.
+
+It is the mark of fine intellects to explain many things in a few
+words; little minds have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing.
+
+We speak but little when vanity does not make us speak.
+
+A spirit of confidence helps on conversation more than brilliance of
+mind does.
+
+True eloquence consists of saying all that is necessary, and nothing
+more.
+
+A man may be witty and still be a fool; judgment is the source of
+wisdom.
+
+A man does not please for very long when he has but one kind of wit.
+
+It is a mistake to imagine that wit and judgment are two distinct
+things; judgment is only the perfection of wit, which pierces into the
+recesses of things and there perceives what from the outside seems to
+be imperceptible.
+
+A man of intelligence would often be at a loss were it not for the
+company of fools.
+
+It is not so much fertility of mind that leads us to discover many
+expedients in regard to a single matter, as a defect of intelligence,
+that makes us stop at everything presented to our imagination, and
+hinders us from discerning at once which is the best course.
+
+Some old men like to give good advice to console themselves for being
+no longer in a state to give a bad example.
+
+No man of sound good sense strikes us as such unless he is of our way
+of thinking.
+
+Stiffness of opinion comes from pettiness of mind; we do not easily
+believe in anything that is beyond our range of vision.
+
+Good taste is based on judgment rather than on intelligence.
+
+It is more often through pride than through any want of enlightenment
+that men set themselves stubbornly to oppose the most current opinions;
+finding all the best places taken on the popular side, they do not want
+those in the rear.
+
+In order to understand things well one must know the detail of them;
+and as this is almost infinite, our knowledge is always superficial and
+imperfect.
+
+It is never so difficult to talk well as when we are ashamed of our
+silence.
+
+The excessive pleasure we feel in talking about ourselves ought to make
+us apprehensive that we afford little to our listeners.
+
+Truth has not done so much good in the world as the false appearances
+of it have done harm.
+
+Man's chief wisdom consists in being sensible of his follies.
+
+
+_IV.--Human Life and Human Nature_
+
+Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of reason.
+
+The passions of youth are scarcely more opposed to salvation than the
+lukewarmness of old persons.
+
+There is not enough material in a fool to make a good man out of him.
+
+We have more strength than will, and it is often to excuse ourselves to
+ourselves that we imagine things are impossible.
+
+There are few things impossible in themselves; it is the application to
+achieve them that we lack more than the means.
+
+It is a mistake to imagine that only the more violent passions, such as
+ambition and love, can triumph over the rest. Idleness often masters
+them all. It indeed influences all our designs and actions, and
+insensibly destroys both our vices and our virtues.
+
+Idleness is of all our passions that which is most unknown to
+ourselves. It is the most ardent and the most malign of all, though we
+do not feel its working, and the harm which it does is hidden. If we
+consider its power attentively, we shall see that in every struggle it
+triumphs over our feelings, our interests, and our pleasures. To give a
+true idea of this passion it is necessary to add that idleness is like
+a beatitude of the soul which consoles it for all its losses and serves
+in place of all its wealth.
+
+The gratitude of most men is only a secret desire to receive greater
+favours.
+
+We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits than those from
+whom we receive them.
+
+It is less dangerous to do harm to most men than to do them too much
+good.
+
+If we had no defects ourselves we should not take so much pleasure in
+observing the failings of others.
+
+One man may be more cunning than another man, but he cannot be more
+cunning than all the world.
+
+Mankind has made a virtue of moderation in order to limit the ambition
+of great men and to console mediocre people for their scanty fortune
+and their scanty merit.
+
+We should often be ashamed of our finest actions if the world saw all
+the motives that produced them.
+
+Our desire to speak of ourselves, and to reveal our defects in the
+best light in which we can show them, constitutes a great part of our
+sincerity.
+
+The shame that arises from undeserved praise often leads us to do
+things which we should not otherwise have attempted.
+
+The labours of the body free us from the pains of the mind. It is this
+that constitutes the happiness of the poor.
+
+It is more necessary to study men than to study books.
+
+The truly honest man is he who sets no value on himself.
+
+Censorious as the world is, it is oftener favourable to false merit
+than unjust to true.
+
+It is not enough to possess great qualities; we must know how to use
+them.
+
+He who lives without folly is not so wise as he fancies.
+
+Good manners are the least of all laws and the most strictly observed.
+
+Everybody complains of a lack of memory, nobody of a lack of judgment.
+
+The love of justice is nothing more than a fear of injustice.
+
+Passion often makes a fool of a man of sense, and sometimes it makes a
+fool a man of sense.
+
+Nature seems to have hidden in the depth of our minds a skill and a
+talent of which we are ignorant; only our passions are able to bring
+them out and to give us sometimes surer and more complete views than we
+could arrive at by thought and study.
+
+Our passions are the only orators with an unfailing power of
+persuasion. They are an art of nature with infallible rules, and the
+simplest man who is possessed by passion is far more persuasive than
+the most eloquent speaker who is not moved by feeling.
+
+As we grow old we grow foolish as well as wise.
+
+Few people know how to grow old.
+
+Death and the sun are things one cannot look at steadily.
+
+
+_V.--Virtues and Vices_
+
+Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue.
+
+Our vices are commonly disguised virtues.
+
+Virtue would not go far if vanity did not go with her.
+
+Prosperity is a stronger test of virtue than misfortune is.
+
+Men blame vice and praise virtue only through self-interest.
+
+Great souls are not those which have less passions and more virtues
+than common souls, but those which have larger ambitions.
+
+Of all our virtues one might say what an Italian poet has said of the
+honesty of women, "that it is often nothing but an art of pretending to
+be honest."
+
+Virtues are lost in self-interest, as rivers are in the sea.
+
+To the honour of virtue it must be acknowledged that the greatest
+misfortunes befall men from their vices.
+
+When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them.
+
+Feebleness is more opposed to vice than virtue is.
+
+What makes the pangs of shame and jealousy so sharp is that our vanity
+cannot help us to support them.
+
+What makes the vanity of other persons so intolerable is that it hurts
+our own.
+
+We have not the courage to say in general that we have no defects, and
+that our enemies have no good qualities; but in matters of detail we
+are not very far from believing it.
+
+If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others Would not injure
+us.
+
+We sometimes think we dislike flattery; we only dislike the way in
+which we are flattered.
+
+Flattery is a kind of bad money to which our vanity gives currency.
+
+Self-love, as it happens to be well or ill-conducted, constitutes
+virtue and vice.
+
+We are so prepossessed in our own favour that we often mistake for
+virtues those vices that bear some resemblance to them, and are
+artfully disguised by self-love.
+
+Nothing is so capable of lessening our self-love as the observation
+that we disapprove at one time what we approve at another.
+
+Self-love is the love of self, and of everything for the sake of self.
+When fortune gives the means, self-love makes men idolise themselves
+and tyrannise over others. It never rests or fixes itself anywhere
+outside its home. If it settle on external things, it is only as the
+bee does on flowers, to extract what may be serviceable. Nothing is so
+impetuous as its desires, nothing so secret as its designs, nothing so
+adroit as its conduct. We can neither fathom the depth, nor penetrate
+the obscurity of its abyss. There, concealed from the most piercing
+eye, it makes numberless turnings and windings; there is it often
+invisible even to itself; there it conceives, breeds, and cherishes,
+without being aware of it, an infinity of likings and hatreds; some
+of which are so monstrous that, having given birth to them, self-love
+either does not recognize them, or cannot bear to own them. From the
+darkness which covers self-love spring the ridiculous notions which it
+entertains of itself; thence its errors, ignorance, and silly mistakes;
+thence it imagines that its feelings are dead when they are but asleep;
+and thinks that it has lost all appetite when it is for the moment
+sated.
+
+But the thick mist which hides it from itself does not hinder it from
+seeing perfectly whatever is without; and thus it resembles the eye,
+that sees all things except itself. In great concerns and important
+affairs, where the violence of its desire excites its whole attention,
+it sees, perceives, understands, invents, suspects, penetrates, and
+divines all things; so that one is tempted to believe that each of its
+passions has its peculiar magic.
+
+Its desires are inflamed by itself rather than by the beauty and merit
+of the objects; its own taste heightens and embellishes them; itself
+is the game it pursues, and its own inclination is what is followed
+rather than the things which seem to be the objects of its inclination.
+Composed of contrarieties, it is imperious and obedient, sincere and
+hypocritical, merciful and cruel, timid and bold. Its desires tend,
+according to the diverse moods that direct it, sometimes to glory,
+sometimes to wealth, sometimes to pleasure. These are changed as age
+and experience alter; and whether it has many inclinations or only one
+is a matter of indifference, because it can split itself into many or
+collect itself into one just as is convenient or agreeable.
+
+It is inconstant; and numberless are the changes, besides those which
+happen from external causes, which proceed from its own nature.
+Inconstant through levity, through love, through novelty, through
+satiety, through disgust, through inconstancy itself. Capricious; and
+sometimes labouring with eagerness and incredible pains to obtain
+things that are in no way advantageous, nay, even hurtful, but which
+are pursued merely as a passion. Whimsical, and often exerting intense
+application in the most trifling employments; taking delight in the
+most insipid things, and preserving all its haughtiness in the most
+contemptible pursuits. Attendant on all ages and conditions; living
+everywhere; living on everything; living on nothing. Easy in either
+the enjoyment, or privation of things. Going over to those who are at
+variance with it; even entering into their schemes; and, wonderful!
+joining with them, it hates itself; conspires its own destruction;
+labours to be undone; desires only to exist; and, that granted,
+consents to be its own enemy.
+
+We are not therefore to be surprised if sometimes, uniting with the
+most rigid austerity, it enters boldly into a combination against
+itself; because what is lost in one respect is regained in another.
+When we think it relinquishes pleasures, it only suspends or changes
+them; and even when discomforted, and we seem to be rid of it, we
+find it triumphant in its own defeat. Such is self-love!--of which
+man's whole life is only a strong, a continued agitation. The sea
+is a striking image of it, and in the flux and reflux of the waves,
+self-love may find a lively expression of the turbulent succession of
+its thoughts, and of its eternal agitation.
+
+
+
+
+LEONARDO DA VINCI
+
+Treatise on Painting
+
+  Leonardo Da Vinci was born in 1452 at Anchiano, near Vinci,
+  in Tuscany, the son of a Florentine notary. Trained in the
+  workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, he became one of the greatest
+  and most versatile artists of the Renaissance. Indeed, he must
+  be considered one of the master-minds of all times, for there
+  was scarcely a sphere of human knowledge in which he did not
+  excel and surpass his contemporaries. He was not only preeminent
+  as painter, sculptor, and architect, but was an accomplished
+  musician, poet, and improvisatore, an engineer--able to construct
+  canals, roads, fortifications, ships, and war-engines of every
+  description--an inventor of rare musical instruments, and a great
+  organiser of fetes and pageants. Few of his artistic creations
+  have come down to us; but his profound knowledge of art and
+  science, and the wide range of his intellect are fully revealed
+  in the scattered leaves of his notebooks, which are now preserved
+  in the British Museum, the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris, the
+  Ambrosiani in Milan, and other collections. The first edition of
+  the "Treatise on Painting" was a compilation from these original
+  notes, published at Paris in 1651. Leonardo died at Cloux on May
+  2, 1519.
+
+
+_From Da Vinci's Notebooks_
+
+The eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the principal means
+whereby our intelligence may most fully and splendidly comprehend the
+infinite works of nature; and the ear comes next, by gaining importance
+through hearing the things that have been perceived by the eye. If you
+historians or poets, or mathematicians, had not seen things with your
+eyes, badly would you describe them in your writings. If you, O poet,
+call painting dumb poetry, the painter might say of the poet's writing
+blind painting. Now consider, which taunt is more mordant--to be called
+blind or dumb?
+
+If the poet is as free in invention as the painter, yet his fiction
+is not as satisfying to mankind as is painting, for whereas poetry
+endeavours with words to represent forms, actions, and scenes, the
+painter's business is to imitate forms with the images of these very
+forms. Take the case of a poet, describing the beauties of a woman
+to her lover, and that of a painter depicting her; you will soon see
+whither nature will attract the enamoured judge. And should not the
+proof of things be the verdict of experience?
+
+If you say that poetry is more enduring, I may reply that the works
+of a coppersmith are more enduring still, since time has preserved
+them longer than your works or ours; yet they are less imaginative,
+and painting, if done with enamels on copper, can be made far more
+enduring. We, in our art, may be said to be grandsons unto God. If you
+despise painting, which is the sole imitator of all the visible works
+of nature, then you certainly despise a subtle invention which, with
+philosophical and ingenious reflection, considers all the properties of
+forms, airs, and scenes, trees, animals, grasses and flowers, which are
+surrounded by light and shade.
+
+And this is a science and the true-born daughter of nature, since
+painting is born of this self-same nature. But, in order to speak more
+correctly, let us call it the grandchild of nature, because all visible
+things are produced by nature, and from these same things is born
+painting. Wherefore we may rightly call it the grandchild of nature,
+related to God Himself.
+
+
+_How Sculpture is Less Intellectual_
+
+Being sculptor no less than painter, and practising both arts in the
+same degree, it seems to me that I may without arrogance pronounce how
+one of them is more intellectual, difficult, and perfect than the other.
+
+Firstly, sculpture is subject to a certain light--namely, from
+above--and painting carries everywhere with it light and shade. Light
+and shade are, therefore, the essentials in sculpture. In this respect
+the sculptor is aided by the nature of the relief, which produces these
+of its own accord; the painter introduces them by his art where nature
+would reasonably place them. The sculptor cannot reproduce the varying
+nature of the colours of objects; painting lacks nothing in this
+respect. The sculptor's perspectives never seem true, but the painter's
+lead the eye hundreds of miles into the work. Aerial perspective
+is alien to their work. They can neither represent transparent nor
+luminous bodies, neither reflected rays nor shiny surfaces like mirrors
+and similar glittering bodies; no mist, no dull sky, nor countless
+other things, which I refrain from mentioning to avoid getting
+wearisome. It has the advantage that it offers greater resistance to
+time, although enamels on copper fused in fire have equal power of
+resistance. Thus painting surpasses sculpture even in durability.
+
+Were you to speak only of painting on panels, I should be content to
+give the verdict against sculpture by saying: Whilst painting is more
+beautiful, more imaginative, and more resourceful, sculpture is more
+durable; and this is all that can be said for it. It reveals with
+little effort what it is. Painting seems a miraculous thing, making
+things intangible appear tangible, presenting flat objects in relief,
+and distant near at hand. Indeed, painting is adorned with endless
+possibilities that are not used by sculpture.
+
+Painters fight and compete with nature.
+
+
+_Of the Ten Offices of the Eye_
+
+Painting extends over all the ten offices of the eye--namely, darkness,
+light, body and colour, figure and scenery, distance and nearness,
+movement and repose--all of which offices will be woven through this
+little work of mine. For I will remind the painter by what rule and in
+what manner he shall use his art to imitate all these things, the work
+of nature and the ornament of the world.
+
+
+_Rule for Beginners in Painting_
+
+We know clearly that sight is one of the swiftest actions in existence,
+perceiving in one moment countless forms. Nevertheless, it cannot
+comprehend more than one thing at a time. Suppose, for instance, you,
+reader, were to cast a single glance upon this entire written page and
+were to decide at once that it is full of different letters; but you
+will not be able to recognize in this space of time either what letters
+they are or what they purport to say. Therefore, you must take word by
+word, verse by verse, in order to gain knowledge from these letters.
+Again, if you want to reach the summit of a building, you must submit
+to climbing step by step, else it would be impossible for you to reach
+the top. And so I say to you, whom nature inclines to this art, if you
+would have a true knowledge of the form of things, begin with their
+details, and don't pass on to the second before the first is well fixed
+in your memory, else you will waste your time.
+
+Perspective is the rein and rudder of painting.
+
+I say whatever is forced within a border is more difficult than what is
+free. Shadows have in certain degrees their borders, and he who ignores
+them cannot obtain roundness, which roundness is the essence and soul
+of painting. Drawing is free, since, if you see countless faces, they
+will all be different--the one has a long, the other a short nose. Thus
+the painter may take this liberty, and where is liberty, is no rule.
+
+
+_Precepts for Painting_
+
+The painter should endeavour to be universal, because he is lacking
+in dignity if he do one thing well and another thing badly, like so
+many who only study the well-proportionate nude and not its variations,
+because a man may be proportionate and yet be short and stout, or
+long and thin. And he who does not bear in mind these variations will
+get his figures stereotyped, so that they all seem to be brothers and
+sisters, which deserves to be censured severely.
+
+Let the sketching of histories be swift and the articulation not too
+perfect. Be satisfied with suggesting the position of the limbs, which
+you may afterwards carry to completion at your leisure and as you
+please.
+
+Methinks it is no small grace in a painter if he give a pleasing air
+to his figures, a grace which, if it be not one's own by nature, may
+be acquired by study, as follows. Try to take the best parts from many
+beautiful faces, whose beauty is affirmed by public fame rather than
+by your own judgment, for you may deceive yourself by taking faces
+which resemble your own. For it would often seem that such similarities
+please us; and if you were ugly you would not select beautiful faces,
+and you would make ugly ones, like many painters whose types often
+resemble their master. Therefore, take beautiful features, as I tell
+you, and commit them to your memory.
+
+Monstrous is he who has a very large head and short legs, and monstrous
+he who with rich garments has great poverty; therefore we shall call
+him well proportioned whose every part corresponds with his whole.
+
+
+_On the Choice of Light_
+
+If you had a courtyard, which you could cover at will with a canvas
+awning, this light would be good; or when you wish to paint somebody,
+paint him in bad weather, or at the hour of dusk, placing the sitter
+with his back to one of the walls of this courtyard.
+
+Observe in the streets at the fall of the evening the faces of men and
+women when it is bad weather, what grace and sweetness then appear to
+be theirs.
+
+Therefore, you should have a courtyard, prepared with walls painted in
+black, and with the roof projecting a little over the said wall. And it
+should be ten _braccia_ [ten fathoms] in width, and twenty in length
+and ten in height; and when the sun shines you should cover it over
+with the awning, or you should paint an hour before evening, when it is
+cloudy or misty. For this is the most perfect light.
+
+
+_Of the Gesture of Figures_
+
+You should give your figures such movement as will suffice to show
+what is passing in the mind of the figure; else your art would not be
+praiseworthy. A figure is not worthy of praise if it do not express by
+some gesture the passion of the soul. That figure is most worthy of
+praise which best expresses by its gesture the passion of its nature.
+
+If you have to represent an honest man talking, see that his action be
+companion to his good words; and again, if you have to depict a bestial
+man, give him wild movements--his arms thrown towards the spectator,
+and his head pressed towards his chest, his legs apart.
+
+
+_The Judgment of Painting_
+
+We know well that mistakes are more easily detected in the works of
+others than in one's own, and often, while censuring the small faults
+of others, you do not recognise your own great faults. In order to
+escape such ignorance, have a care that you be, above all, sure of your
+perspective; then acquire full knowledge of the proportions of man and
+other animals. And, moreover, be a good architect; that is, in so far
+as it is necessary for the form of the buildings and other things that
+are upon the earth, and that are infinitely varied in form.
+
+The more knowledge you have of these, the more worthy of praise will be
+your work. And for those things in which you have no practice, do not
+disdain to copy from nature. When you are painting, you should take a
+flat mirror and often look at your work within it. It will be seen in
+reverse, and will appear to be by some other master, and you will be
+better able to judge of its faults than in any other way. It is also a
+good plan every now and then to go away and have a little relaxation,
+for then, when you come back to the work, your judgment will be surer,
+since to remain constantly at work will cause you to lose the power of
+judgment.
+
+Surely, while one paints one should not reject any man's judgment; for
+we know very well that a man, even if he be no painter, has knowledge
+of the forms of another man, and will judge aright whether he is
+hump-backed, or has one shoulder too high or too low, or whether he has
+too large a mouth or nose, or other faults; and if we are able rightly
+to judge the work of nature in men, how much more is it fit to admit
+that they are able to judge our mistakes.
+
+You know how much man may be deceived about his own works, and if you
+do not know it of yourself, observe it in others, and you will derive
+benefit from other people's mistakes. Therefore, you should be eager
+to listen patiently to the views of other men and consider and reflect
+carefully whether he who finds fault is right or not in blaming you. If
+you find that he is right, correct your work; but if not, pretend not
+to have understood him; or show him, if he be a man whom you respect,
+by sound argument, why it is that he is mistaken in finding fault.
+
+
+_Do Not Disdain to Work from Nature_
+
+A master who let it be understood that his mind could retain all the
+forms and effects of nature, I should certainly hold to be endowed with
+great ignorance, since the said effects are infinite, and our memory is
+not of such capacity as to suffice thereto. Therefore, O painter, see
+that the greed for gain do not outweigh within you the honour of art,
+for to gain in honour is a far greater thing than to be honoured for
+wealth.
+
+For these and other reasons that might be adduced, you should endeavour
+first to demonstrate to the eye, by means of drawing, a suggestion
+of the intention and of the invention originated first by your
+imagination. Then proceed, taking from it or adding to it, until you
+are satisfied with it. Then have men arranged as models, draped or
+nude, in the manner in which they are disposed in your work, and make
+the proportions and size in accordance with perspective, so that no
+part of the work remains that is not counselled by reason as well as by
+nature.
+
+And this will be the way to make you honoured through your art. First
+of all, copy drawings by a good master made by his art from nature, and
+not as exercises; then from a relief, keeping by you a drawing done
+from the same relief; then from a good model, and of this you ought to
+make a general practice.
+
+
+_Of the Painter's Life in His Study_
+
+The painter or draughtsman should be solitary, so that physical comfort
+may not injure the thriving of the mind, especially when he is occupied
+with the observations and considerations which ever offer themselves to
+his eye and provide material to be treasured up by the memory. If you
+are alone, you belong wholly to yourself; and if you are accompanied
+even by one companion, you belong only half to yourself; and if you
+are with several of them, you will be even more subject to such
+inconveniences.
+
+And if you should say, "I shall take my own course, I shall keep apart,
+so that I may be the better able to contemplate the forms of natural
+objects," then I reply, this cannot well be, because you cannot help
+frequently lending your ear to their gossip; and since nobody can serve
+two masters at once, you will badly fulfil your duties as companion,
+and you will have worse success in artistic contemplation. And if you
+should say, "I shall keep so far apart that their words cannot reach me
+or disturb me," then I reply in this case that you will be looked upon
+as mad. And do you not perceive that, in acting thus, you would really
+be solitary?
+
+
+_Of Ways to Represent Various Scenes_
+
+A man in despair you should make turning his knife against himself. He
+should have rent his garments, and he should be in the act of tearing
+open his wound with one hand. And you should make him with his feet
+apart and his legs somewhat bent, and the whole figure likewise bending
+to the ground, with dishevelled and untidy hair.
+
+As a rule, he whom you wish to represent talking to many people will
+consider the subject of which he has to treat, and will fit his
+gestures to this subject--that is to say, if the subject is persuasion,
+the gestures should serve this intention; if the subject is explanation
+by various reasons, he who speaks should take a finger of his left hand
+between two fingers of his right, keeping the two smaller ones pressed
+together; his face should be animated and turned towards the people,
+his mouth slightly opened, so that he seems to be talking. And if he
+is seated, let him seem to be in the act of slightly raising himself,
+with his head forward; and if he is standing, make him lean forward
+a little, with his head towards the people, whom you should represent
+silent and attentive, all watching, with gestures of admiration, the
+orator's face. Some old men should have their mouths drawn down at the
+corners in astonishment at what they hear, drawing back the cheeks in
+many furrows, and raising their eyebrows where they meet, so as to
+produce many wrinkles on their foreheads. Some who are seated should
+hold their tired knees between the interlaced fingers of their hands,
+and others should cross one knee over the other, and place upon it one
+hand, so that its hollow supports the other elbow, whose hand again
+supports the bearded chin.
+
+Whatever is wholly deprived of light is complete darkness. Night being
+in this condition, if you wish to represent a scene therein, you must
+contrive to have a great fire in this night, and everything that is in
+closer proximity to this fire will assume more of its colour, because
+the nearer a thing is to another object, the more it partakes of its
+nature. And since you will make the fire incline towards a red colour,
+you will have to give a reddish tinge to all things lighted by it, and
+those which are farther away from the fire will have to hold more of
+the black colour of night. The figures which are between you and the
+fire appear dark against the brightness of the flame, for that part of
+the object which you perceive is coloured by the darkness of night,
+and not by the brightness of the fire; and those which flank the fire
+will be half dark and half reddish. Those which are behind the flames
+will be altogether illuminated by a reddish light against the black
+background.
+
+If you wish to represent a tempest properly, observe and set down the
+effects of the wind blowing over the face of the sea and of the land,
+raising and carrying away everything that is not firmly rooted in the
+general mass. And in order properly to represent this tempest, you
+should first of all show the riven and torn clouds swept along by the
+wind, together with the sandy dust blown up from the seashore, and with
+branches and leaves caught up and scattered through the air, together
+with many other light objects, by the power of the furious wind. The
+trees and shrubs, bent to the ground, seem to desire to follow the
+direction of the wind, with branches twisted out of their natural
+growth, and their foliage tossed and inverted.
+
+Of the men who are present, some who are thrown down and entangled with
+their garments and covered with dust should be almost unrecognisable;
+and those who are left standing may be behind some tree which they
+embrace, so that the storm should not carry them off. Others, bent
+down, their garments and hair streaming in the wind, should hold their
+hands before their eyes because of the dust.
+
+Let the turbulent and tempestuous sea be covered with eddying foam
+between the rising waves, and let the wind carry fine spray into the
+stormy air to resemble a thick and all-enveloping mist. Of the ships
+that are there, show some with rent sails, whose shreds should flap in
+the air, together with some broken halyards; masts splintered, tumbled,
+with the ship itself broken by the fury of the waves; some human
+beings, shrieking, and clinging to the wreckage of the vessel. You
+should show the clouds, chased by the impetuous wind, hurled against
+the high tops of the mountains, wreathing and eddying like waves that
+beat against the cliffs. The air should strike terror through the murky
+darkness caused by the dust, the mist, and the heavy clouds.
+
+
+_To Learn to Work from Memory_
+
+If you want properly to commit to your memory something that you
+have learnt, proceed in this manner--namely, when you have drawn one
+object so often that you believe you can remember it, try to draw it
+without the model, after having traced your model on a thin sheet of
+glass. This glass you will then lay upon the drawing which you have
+made without model. Observe well where the tracing does not tally with
+your drawing, and wherever you find that you have gone wrong, you must
+remember not to go wrong again. You should even return to the model,
+in order again to draw the wrong passage until it shall be fixed in
+your memory. And if you have no level sheet of glass for tracing, take
+a very thin sheet of goat-parchment, well oiled, and then dried. And
+after the tracing has done service for your drawing, you can efface it
+with a sponge and use it again for another tracing.
+
+
+_On Studying in Bed_
+
+I have experienced upon myself that it is of no small benefit if, when
+you are in bed, you apply your imagination to repeating the superficial
+lines of the forms which you have been studying, or to other remarkable
+things which are comprehensible to a fine intellect. This is a
+praiseworthy and useful action which will help you to fix things in
+your memory.
+
+
+
+
+GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING
+
+Laocoon
+
+  In 1766, while acting as secretary to the governor of Breslau,
+  Lessing wrote his celebrated "Laocoon," a critical treatise
+  defining the limits of poetry and the plastic arts. The epitome
+  given here has been prepared from the German text. A short
+  biographical sketch of Lessing appears in the introduction to his
+  play, "Nathan the Wise," appearing in Volume XVII of THE WORLD'S
+  GREATEST BOOKS.
+
+
+_I.--On the Limits of Painting and Poetry_
+
+Winkelman has pronounced a noble simplicity and quiet grandeur,
+displayed in the posture no less than in the expression, to be the
+characteristic feature common to all the Greek masterpieces of painting
+and sculpture. "As," says he, "the depths of the sea always remain
+calm, however violently the surface may rage, so the expression in the
+figures of the Greeks, under every form of passion, shows a great and
+self-collected soul.
+
+"This spirit is portrayed in the countenance of Laocoon, but not in
+the countenance alone. Even under the most violent suffering the
+pain discovers itself in every muscle and sinew of his body, and the
+beholder, while looking at the agonised conditions of the stomach,
+without viewing the face and other parts, believes that he almost feels
+the pain himself. The pain expresses itself without any violence, both
+in the features and in the whole posture. Laocoon suffers, but he
+suffers as the Philoctetes of Sophocles. His misery pierces us to the
+very soul, but inspires us with a wish that we could endure misery like
+that great man.
+
+"The expressing of so great a soul is far higher than the painting of
+beautiful nature. The artist must feel within himself that strength of
+spirit which he would imprint on his marble. Greece had philosophers
+and artists in one person. Philosophy gave her hand to art, and
+inspired its figures with no ordinary souls."
+
+The above remarks are founded on the argument that "the pain in
+the face of Laocoon does not show itself with that force which its
+intensity would have led us to expect." This is correct. But I confess
+I differ from Winkelman as to what, in his opinion, is the basis of
+this wisdom, and as to the universality of the rule which he deduces
+from it. I acknowledge I was startled, first by the glances of
+disapproval which he casts on Virgil, and, secondly, by the comparison
+with Philoctetes. From this point I shall begin, writing down my
+thoughts as they were developed in me.
+
+"Laocoon suffers as does the Philoctetes of Sophocles." But how does
+this last suffer? It is curious that his sufferings should leave such a
+different impression behind them. The cries and mild imprecations with
+which he filled the camp and interrupted the sacrifices echoed through
+the desolate island. The same sounds of despair fill the theatre in the
+poet's imitation.
+
+A cry is the natural expression of bodily pain. Homer's wounded heroes
+frequently fall to the ground with cries. They are in their actions
+beings of higher order; in their feelings, true men.
+
+We more civilised and refined Europeans of a wiser and later age are
+forbidden to cry and weep, and even our ancestors were taught to
+suppress lamentation at loss, and to die laughing under the bites of
+adders. Not so the Greeks. They felt and feared, and gave utterance to
+pain and sorrow, only nothing must hold them back from duty.
+
+Now for my inference. If it be true that, a cry at the sensation of
+bodily pain, according to the old Greek way of thinking, is quite
+compatible with greatness of soul, it cannot have been for the sake of
+expressing such greatness that the artist avoided imitating his shriek
+in marble. Another reason must be found for his deviation from his
+rival, the poet, who has expressed it with the happiest results.
+
+Be it fable or history, it is love that made the first essay in the
+plastic arts, and never wearied of guiding the hands of the masters
+of old. Painting now may be defined generally as "the imitation of
+bodies of matter on a level surface"; but the wise Greek allotted for
+it narrower limits, and confined it to imitations of the beautiful
+only; his artists painted nothing else. It was the perfection of their
+work that absorbed them. Among the ancients beauty was the highest
+law of the plastic arts. To beauty everything was subordinated. There
+are passions by which all beautiful physical lines are lost through
+the distortion of the body, but from all such emotions the ancient
+masters abstained entirely. Rage and despair disgrace none of their
+productions, and I dare maintain that they never painted a fury.
+
+Indignation was softened down to seriousness. Grief was lessened into
+mournfulness. All know how Timanthes in his painting of the sacrifice
+of Iphigenia shows the sorrow of the bystanders, but has concealed
+the face of the father, who should show it more than all. He left to
+conjecture what he might not paint. This concealment is a sacrifice to
+beauty by the artist, and it shows how art's first law is the law of
+beauty.
+
+Now apply this to Laocoon. The master aimed at the highest beauty
+compatible with the adopted circumstances of bodily pain. He must
+soften shrieks into sighs. For only imagine the mouth of Laocoon to be
+forced open, and then judge.
+
+But art in modern times has been allowed a far wider sphere. It has
+been affirmed that its limitations extend over the whole of visible
+nature, of which the beautiful is but a small part. And as nature is
+ever ready to sacrifice beauty to higher aims, so should the artist
+render it subordinate to his general design. But are there not
+other considerations which compel the artist to put certain limits
+to expression, and prevent him from ever drawing it at its highest
+intensity?
+
+I believe that the fact that it is to a single moment that the material
+limits of art confine all its limitations, will lead us to similar
+views.
+
+If the artist out of ever-varying nature can only make use of a single
+moment, while his works are meant to stand the test not only of a
+passing glance, but of a long and repeated contemplation, it is clear
+that this moment cannot be chosen too happily. Now that only is a
+happy choice which allows the imagination free scope. In the whole
+course of a feeling there is no moment which possesses this advantage
+so little as its highest stage. There is nothing beyond this, and the
+presentation of extremes to the eye clips the wings of fancy, prevents
+her from soaring beyond the impression of the senses, and compels
+her to occupy herself with weaker images. Thus if Laocoon sighs, the
+imagination can hear him shriek; but if he shrieks, it can neither
+rise above nor descend below this representation without seeing him
+in a condition which, as it will be more endurable, becomes less
+interesting. It either hears him merely moaning, or sees him already
+dead.
+
+Of the frenzied Ajax of Timomachus we can form some judgment from the
+account of Philoctetes. Ajax does not appear raging among herds and
+slaughtering cattle instead of men; but the master exhibits him sitting
+wearied with these deeds of insanity, and that is really the raging
+Ajax. We can form the most lively idea of the extremity of his frenzy
+from the shame and despair which he himself feels at the thought of it.
+We see the storm in the wrecks and corpses which it had strewn on the
+beach.
+
+
+_II.--The Poet_
+
+Perhaps hardly any of the above remarks concerning the necessary limits
+of the artist would be found equally applicable to poetry. It is
+undeniable that the whole realm of the perfectly excellent lies open
+to the imitation of the poet, that excellence of outward form which we
+call beauty being only one of the least of the means by which he can
+interest us in his characters.
+
+Moreover, the poet is not compelled to concentrate his picture into
+a single moment. He can take up every action of his hero at its
+source, and pursue it to its issue through all possible variations.
+Each of these, which would cost the artist a separate work, costs the
+poet but a single trait. What wonderful skill has Sophocles shown in
+strengthening and enlarging, in his tragedy of Philoctetes, the idea
+of bodily pain! He chose a wound, and not an internal malady, because
+the former admits of a more lively representation than the latter.
+This wound was, moreover, a punishment divinely decreed. But to the
+Greeks a wound from a poisoned arrow was but an ordinary incident. Why,
+then, in the case of Philoctetes only was it followed by such dreadful
+consequences?
+
+Sophocles felt full well that, however great he made the bodily pain to
+his hero, it would not have sufficed of itself to excite any remarkable
+degree of sympathy. He therefore combined it with other evils--the
+complete lack of society, hunger, and all the hardships to which such a
+man under terrible privations is exposed when cast on a wild, deserted
+isle of the Cyclades.
+
+Imagine, now, a man in these conditions, but give him health and
+strength and industry, and he becomes a Crusoe, whose lot, though not
+indifferent to us, has no great claim on our sympathy. On the other
+hand, imagine a man afflicted by a painful and incurable disease, but
+at the same time surrounded by kind friends. For him we should feel
+sympathy, yet this would not endure throughout. Only when both cases
+are combined do we see nothing but despair, which excites our amazement
+and horror. Typical beauty arises from the harmonious effect of
+numerous parts, all of which the sight is capable of comprehending at
+the same time. It requires, therefore, that these parts should lie near
+each other; and since things whose parts lie near each other are the
+peculiar objects of plastic beauty, these it is, and these only, which
+can imitate typical beauty. The poet, since he can only exhibit in
+succession its component parts, entirely abstains from the description
+of typical beauty. He feels that these parts, ranged one after the
+other, cannot possibly have the effect they produce when closely
+arranged together.
+
+In this respect Homer is a pattern of patterns. He says Nireus was
+beautiful, Achilles still more so, Helen was endowed with divine
+beauty. But nowhere does he enter on a detailed sketch of these
+beauties, and yet the whole Iliad is based on the loveliness of Helen.
+
+In this point, in which he can imitate Homer by merely doing nothing,
+Virgil is also tolerably happy. His heroine Dido, too, is never
+anything more than _pulcherrima_ Dido (loveliest Dido). When he wishes
+to be more circumstantial, he is so in the description of her rich
+dress and apparel.
+
+Lucian, also, was too acute to convey any idea of the body of Panthea
+otherwise than by reference to the most lovely female statues of the
+old artists.
+
+Yet what is this but the acknowledgment that language by itself is
+here without power; that poetry falters and eloquence grows speechless
+unless art in some measure serve them as an interpreter?
+
+But, it will be said, does not poetry lose too much if we deprive
+her of all objects of typical beauty? Who would deprive her of them?
+Because we would debar her from wandering among the footsteps of her
+sister art, without ever reaching the same goal as she, do we exclude
+her from every other, where art in her turn must gaze after her steps
+with fruitless longings?
+
+Even Homer, who so pointedly abstains from all detailed descriptions
+of typical beauties, from whom we but just learn that Helen had white
+arms and lovely hair, even he, with all this, knew how to convey to us
+an idea of her beauty which far exceeds anything that art is able to
+accomplish.
+
+
+_III.--Beauty and Charm_
+
+Again, another means which poetry possesses of rivalling art in the
+description of typical beauty is the change of beauty into charm.
+Charm is beauty in motion, and is for this very reason less suitable
+to the painter than to the poet. The painter can only leave motion to
+conjecture, while in fact his figures are motionless. Consequently,
+with him charm becomes grimace.
+
+But in poetry it remains what it is, a transitory beauty which we would
+gladly see repeated. It comes and goes, and since we can generally
+recall to our minds a movement more easily and vividly than forms
+or colours, charm necessarily in the same circumstances produces a
+stronger effect than beauty.
+
+Zeuxis painted a Helen, and had the courage to write below the picture
+those renowned lines of Homer in which the enraptured elders confess
+their sensations. Never had painting and poetry been engaged in such
+contest. The contest remained undecided, and both deserved the crown.
+
+For just as a wise poet showed us the beauty which he felt he could not
+paint according to its constituent parts, but merely in its effect, so
+the no less wise painter showed us that beauty by nothing but those
+parts, deeming it unbecoming for his art to resort to any other means
+for aid. His picture consisted of a single figure, undraped, of Helen,
+probably the one painted for the people of Crotona.
+
+In beauty a single unbecoming part may disturb the harmonious effect
+of many, without the object necessarily becoming ugly. For ugliness,
+too, requires several unbecoming parts, all of which we must be able
+to comprehend at the same view before we experience sensations the
+opposite of those which beauty produces.
+
+According to this, therefore, ugliness in its essence could be no
+subject of poetry; yet Homer has painted extreme ugliness in Thersites,
+and this ugliness is described according to its parts near each other.
+Why in the case of ugliness did he allow himself the license from which
+he had abstained in that of beauty? A successive enumeration of the
+elements of beauty will annihilate its effects. Will not a similar
+cause produce a similar effect in the case of ugliness?
+
+Undoubtedly it will; but it is in this very fact that the justification
+of Homer lies. The poet can only take advantage of ugliness so far as
+it is reduced in his description into the less repugnant appearance of
+bodily imperfection, and ceases, as it were, in point of effect, to be
+ugliness. Thus, what he cannot make use of by itself he can use as the
+ingredient for the purpose of producing and strengthening certain mixed
+sensations.
+
+These mixed feelings are the ridiculous and the horrible. Homer makes
+Thersites ugly in order to make him ridiculous. He is not made so,
+however, merely by his ugliness, for ugliness is an imperfection, and
+the contrast of perfection with imperfections is required to produce
+the ridiculous. To this I may add that the contrast must not be too
+sharp and glaring, and that the contrasts must blend into each other.
+
+The wise and virtuous AEsop does not become ridiculous because of
+ugliness attributed to him. For his misshapen body and beautiful
+mind are as oil and vinegar; however much you shake them together,
+they always remain distinct to the taste. They will not amalgamate
+to produce a third quality. The body produces annoyance; the soul,
+pleasure; each has its own effect.
+
+It is only when the deformed body is also fragile and, sickly, when it
+impedes the soul, that the annoyance and pleasure melt into each other.
+
+For, let us suppose that the instigations of the malicious and snarling
+Thersites had resulted in mutiny, that the people had forsaken their
+leaders and departed in the ships, and that these leaders had been
+massacred by a revengeful foe. How would the ugliness of Thersites
+appear then? If ugliness, when harmless, may be ridiculous, when
+hurtful it is always horrible. In Shakespeare's "King Lear," Edmund,
+the bastard Count of Gloucester, is no less a villain than Richard,
+Duke of Gloucester, in "King Richard III." How is it, then, that the
+first excites our loathing so much less than the second? It is because
+when I hear the former, I listen to a devil, but see him as an angel of
+light; but in listening to Richard I hear a devil and see a devil.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN STUART MILL
+
+Essay on Liberty
+
+  Ten years elapsed between the publication of "Political Economy"
+  (see Vol. XIV, p. 294) and the "Essay on Liberty," Mill in the
+  meantime (1851) having married Mrs. John Taylor, a lady who
+  exercised no small influence on his philosophical position.
+  The seven years of his married life saw little or nothing from
+  his pen. The "Essay on Liberty," in many respects the most
+  carefully prepared of all his books, appeared in 1859, the
+  year following the death of his wife, in collaboration with
+  whom it was thought out and partly written. The treatise goes
+  naturally with that on "Utilitarianism." Both are succinct and
+  incisive in their reasoning, and both are grounded on similar
+  sociological principles. Perhaps the primary problem of politics
+  in all ages has been the reconciliation of individual and social
+  interests; and at the present day, when the problem appears to
+  be particularly troublesome, Mill's view of the situation is
+  of especial value. In recent time, legislation has certainly
+  tended to become more socialistic, and the doctrine of individual
+  liberty promulgated in this "Essay" has a most interesting
+  relevancy to modern social movements.
+
+
+_I.--Liberty of Thought and Discussion_
+
+Protection against popular government is as indispensable as protection
+against political despotism. The people may desire to oppress a part
+of their number, and precautions are needed against this as against
+any other abuse of power. So much will be readily granted by most, and
+yet no attempt has been made to find the fitting adjustment between
+individual independence and social control.
+
+The object of this essay is to assert the simple principle that the
+sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively,
+in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number
+is self-protection--that the only purpose for which power can be
+rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community,
+against his will, is to prevent harm to others, either by his action
+or inaction. The only part of the conduct of anyone for which he is
+amenable to society is that which concerns others. In the part which
+merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over
+himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.
+
+This principle requires, firstly, liberty of conscience in the most
+comprehensive sense, liberty of thought and feeling; absolute freedom
+of opinion and sentiment on all subjects, practical or speculative,
+scientific, moral, or theological--the liberty even of publishing
+and expressing opinions. Secondly, the principle requires liberty
+of tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to suit
+our own character; of doing as we like, so long as we do not harm
+our fellow-creatures. Thirdly, the principle requires liberty of
+combination among individuals for any purpose not involving harm to
+others, provided the persons are of full age and not forced or deceived.
+
+The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own
+good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others
+of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Mankind gains more
+by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves than by
+compelling each to live as seems good to the rest.
+
+Coercion in matters of thought and discussion must always be
+illegitimate. If all mankind save one were of one opinion, mankind
+would be no more justified in silencing the solitary individual than
+he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. The
+peculiar evil of silencing the expression of opinion is that it is
+robbing the whole human race, present and future--those who dissent
+from the opinion even more than those who hold it. For if the opinion
+is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for
+truth; and if wrong, they lose the clear and livelier impression of
+truth produced by its collision with error.
+
+All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility, and,
+as all history teaches, neither communities nor individuals are
+infallible. Men cannot be too often reminded of the condemnation of
+Socrates and of Christ, and of the persecution of the Christians by the
+noble-minded Marcus Aurelius.
+
+Enemies of religious freedom maintain that persecution is a good thing,
+for, even though it makes mistakes, it will root out error while it
+cannot extirpate truth. But history shows that even if truth cannot be
+finally extirpated, it may at least be put back centuries.
+
+We no longer put heretics to death; but we punish heresies with a
+social stigma almost as effective, since it may debar men from earning
+their bread. Social intolerance does not actually eradicate heresies,
+but it induces men to hide unpopular opinions. The result is that new
+and heretical opinions smoulder in the narrow circles of thinking and
+studious persons who originate them, and never light up the general
+affairs of mankind with either a true or deceptive light. The price
+paid for intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral
+courage of the human race. Who can compute what the world loses in the
+multitude of promising intellects too timid to follow out any bold,
+independent train of thought lest it might be considered irreligious
+or immoral? No one can be a great thinker who does not follow his
+intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. In a general atmosphere
+of mental slavery a few great thinkers may survive, but in such an
+atmosphere there never has been, and never will be, an intellectually
+active people; and all progress in the human mind and in human
+institutions may be traced to periods of mental emancipation.
+
+Even if an opinion be indubitably true and undoubtingly believed, it
+will be a dead dogma, and not a living truth, if it be not fully,
+frequently, and fearlessly discussed. If the cultivation of the
+understanding consists of one thing more than another, it is surely in
+learning the grounds of one's own opinions, and these can only be fully
+learned by facing the arguments that favour the opposite opinions. He
+who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. Unless he
+knows the difficulties which his truth has to encounter and conquer,
+he knows little of the force of his truth. Not only are the grounds of
+an opinion unformed or forgotten in the absence of discussion, but too
+often the very meaning of the opinion. When the mind is not compelled
+to exercise its powers on the questions which its belief presents to
+it, there is a progressive tendency to forget all of the belief except
+the formularies, until it almost ceases to connect itself at all with
+the inner life of the human being. In such cases a creed merely stands
+sentinel at the entrance of the mind and heart to keep them empty,
+as is so often seen in the case of the Christian creed as at present
+professed.
+
+So far we have considered only two possibilities--that the received
+opinion may be false and some other opinion consequently true, or that,
+the received opinion being true, a conflict with the opposite error is
+essential to a clear apprehension and deep feeling of the truth. But
+there is a commoner case still, when conflicting doctrines share the
+truth, and when the heretical doctrine completes the orthodox. Every
+opinion which embodies somewhat of the portion of the truth which the
+common opinion omits, ought to be considered precious with whatever
+amount of error and confusion it may be conjoined. In politics,
+again, it is almost a commonplace that a party of order or stability,
+and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary factors in a
+healthy political life. Unless opinions favourable to democracy and
+to aristocracy, to property, and to equality, to co-operation and to
+competition, to sociality and to individuality, to liberty and to
+discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms of practical life
+are expressed with equal freedom, and enforced and defended with equal
+talent and energy, there is no chance of both elements obtaining their
+due. Truth is usually reached only by the rough process of a struggle
+between combatants fighting under hostile banners.
+
+It may be objected, "But _some_ received principles, especially on
+the highest and most vital subjects, are more than half-truths."
+This objection is not sound. Even the Christian morality is, in many
+important points, incomplete and one-sided, and unless ideas and
+feelings not sanctioned by it had constituted to the formation of
+European life and character, human affairs would have been in a worse
+condition than they now are.
+
+
+_II.--Individuality as One of the Elements of Well-Being_
+
+We have seen that opinions should be freely formed and freely
+expressed. How about _actions_? If a man refrains from molesting others
+in what concerns him, and merely acts according to his own inclination
+and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which
+show that opinion should be free prove also that he should be allowed
+to carry his opinions into action. As it is useful that while mankind
+are imperfect there should be different opinions, so it is useful that
+there should be different experiments of living, that free scope should
+be given to varieties of character short of injury to others, and that
+the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically. It
+is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern
+others, individuality should assert itself. When, not the person's own
+character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule
+of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human
+happiness and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social
+progress.
+
+No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do
+absolutely nothing but copy one another. On the other hand, it would
+be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if experience had
+as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence or of
+conduct is preferable to another. No one denies that people should be
+so taught and trained in youth as to know and benefit by the results of
+human experience. But it is the privilege of a mature man to use and
+interpret experience in his own way. He who lets the world, or his own
+portion of it, choose his plan of life for him has no need of any other
+faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He, on the other hand, who
+chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties--reasoning,
+foresight, activity, discrimination, resolution, self-control. We wish
+not automatons, but living, originating men and women.
+
+So much will be readily conceded, but nevertheless it may be
+maintained that strong desires and passions are a peril and a snare.
+Yet it is desires and impulses which constitute character, and one
+with no desires and impulses of his own has no more character than
+a steam-engine. An energetic character implies strong, spontaneous
+impulses under the control of a strong will; and such characters
+are desirable, since the danger which threatens modern society is
+not excess but deficiency of personal impulses and preferences.
+Everyone nowadays asks: what is usually done by persons of my station
+and pecuniary circumstances, or (worse still) what is usually done
+by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? The
+consequence is that, through failure to follow their own nature, they
+have no nature to follow; their human capacities are withered and
+starved, and are incapable of any strong pleasures or opinions properly
+their own.
+
+It is not by pruning away the individual but by cultivating it wisely
+that human beings become valuable to themselves and to others, and that
+human life becomes rich, diversified, and interesting. Individuality is
+equivalent to development, and in proportion to the latitude given to
+individuality an age becomes noteworthy or the reverse.
+
+Unfortunately, the general tendency of things is to render mediocrity
+the ascendant power. At present, individuals are lost in the crowd,
+and it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the
+world. And public opinion is the opinion of collective mediocrity, and
+is expressed by mediocre men. The initiation of all wise and noble
+opinions must come from individuals, and the individuality of those who
+stand on the higher eminences of thought is necessary to correct the
+tendency that makes mankind acquiesce in customary and popular opinions.
+
+
+_III.--The Limits of the Authority of Society Over the Individual_
+
+Where, then, does the authority of society begin? How much of human
+life should be assigned to individuality, and how much to society?
+
+To individuality should belong that part of life in which it is chiefly
+the individual that is interested; to society, the part which chiefly
+interests society.
+
+Society, in return for the protection it affords its members, and as a
+condition of its existence, demands, firstly, that its members respect
+the rights of one another; and, secondly, that each person bear his
+share of the labours and sacrifices incurred in defending society for
+its members. Further, society may punish acts of an individual hurtful
+to others, even if not a violation of rights, by the force of public
+opinion.
+
+But in all cases where a person's conduct affects or need only affect
+himself, society may not interfere. Society may help individuals in
+their personal affairs, but neither one person, nor any number of
+persons, is warranted in saying to any human creature that he may not
+use his own life, so far as it concerns himself, as he pleases. He
+himself is the final judge of his own concerns, and the inconveniences
+which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others
+are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that
+portion of his conduct and character which affects his own good, but
+which does not affect the interests of others.
+
+But how, it may be asked, can any part of the conduct of a member of
+society be a matter of indifference to the other members?
+
+I fully confess that the mischief which a person does to himself may
+seriously affect those nearly connected with him, and even society
+at large. But such contingent and indirect injury should be endured
+by society for the sake of the greater good of human freedom, and
+because any attempt at coercion in private conduct will merely produce
+rebellion on the part of the individual coerced. Moreover, when
+society interferes with purely personal conduct, the odds are that it
+interferes wrongly, and in the wrong places, as the pages of history
+and the records of legislation abundantly demonstrate.
+
+Closely connected with the question of the limitations of the
+authority of society over the individual is the question of government
+participation in industrial and other enterprises generally undertaken
+by individuals.
+
+There are three main objections to the interference of the state in
+such matters. In the first place, the matter may be better managed
+by individuals than by the government. In the second place, though
+individuals may not do it so well as government might, yet it is
+desirable that they should do it, as a means of their own mental
+education. In the third place, it is undesirable to add to the power
+of the government. If roads, railways, banks, insurance offices, great
+joint-stock companies, universities, public charities, municipal
+corporations, and local boards were all in the government service,
+and if the employees in these look to the government for promotion,
+not all the freedom of the Press and the popular constitution of the
+legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than
+in name. And, for various reasons, the better qualified the heads and
+hands of the government officials, the more detrimental would the rule
+of the government be. Such a government would inevitably degenerate
+into a pedantocracy monopolising all the occupations which form and
+cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind.
+
+To find the best compromise between individuals and the state is
+difficult, but I believe the ideal must combine the greatest possible
+dissemination of power consistent with efficiency, and the greatest
+possible centralisation and diffusion of information.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN MILTON
+
+Areopagitica
+
+  It has been said of "Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton
+  for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament of
+  England," that it is "the piece that lies more surely than
+  any other at the very heart of our prose literature." In 1637
+  the Star Chamber issued a decree regulating the printing,
+  circulation, and importation of books, and on June 14, 1643, the
+  Long Parliament published an order in the same spirit. Milton
+  (see Vol. XVII) felt that what had been done in the days of
+  repression and tyranny was being continued under the reign of
+  liberty, and that the time for protest had arrived. Liberty was
+  the central principle of Milton's faith. He regarded it as the
+  most potent, beneficent, and sacred factor in human progress; and
+  he applied it all round--to literature, religion, marriage, and
+  civic life. His "Areopagitica," published in November, 1644, was
+  an application of the principle to literature that has remained
+  unanswered. The word "Areopagitica" is derived from Areopagus,
+  the celebrated open-air court in Athens, whose decision in
+  matters of public importance was regarded as final.
+
+
+_I.--The Right of Appeal_
+
+It is not a liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should
+arise in the Commonwealth--that let no man in this world expect; but
+when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily
+reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise
+men look for. To which we are already in good part arrived; and this
+will be attributed first to the strong assistance of God our Deliverer,
+next to your faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons
+of England.
+
+If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour of your civil and
+gentle greatness, Lords and Commons, as to gainsay what your published
+Order hath directly said, I might defend myself with ease out of those
+ages to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are not yet
+Goths and Jutlanders. Such honour was done in those days to men who
+professed the study of wisdom and eloquence that cities and signiories
+heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they had aught in public
+to admonish the state.
+
+When your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason
+from what quarter soever it be heard speaking, I know not what
+should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit instance wherein
+to show, both that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and
+that uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be partial to
+yourselves, by judging over again that Order which ye have ordained to
+regulate printing: that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth
+printed unless the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at
+least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed.
+
+I shall lay before ye, first, that the inventors of licensing books
+be those whom ye will be loth to own; next, what is to be thought in
+general of reading, whatever sort the books be; last, that it will
+be primely to the discouragement of all learning and the stop of
+truth. I deny not that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and
+commonwealth to have a vigilant eye how books demean themselves, as
+well as men. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a
+potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny
+they are.
+
+Nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction
+of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively and
+as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and, being
+sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the
+other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill
+a good book. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is
+the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up
+on purpose to life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life,
+whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not
+oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole
+nations fare the worse.
+
+We should be wary, therefore, how we spill that seasoned life of man,
+preserved and stored up in books, since we see a kind of homicide may
+be thus committed, that strikes at that ethereal essence, the breath of
+reason itself, and slays an immortality rather than a life.
+
+
+_II.--The History of Repression_
+
+In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than in any other part
+of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the magistrate
+cared to take notice of--those either blasphemous and atheistical, or
+libellous. The Romans, for many ages trained up only to a military
+roughness, knew of learning little. There libellous authors were
+quickly cast into prison, and the like severity was used if aught were
+impiously written. Except in these two points, how the world went in
+books the magistrate kept no reckoning.
+
+By the time the emperors were become Christians, the books of those
+whom they took to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and
+condemned in the general councils, and not till then were prohibited.
+
+As for the writings of heathen authors, unless they were plain
+invectives against Christianity, they met with no interdict that can
+be cited till about the year 400. The primitive councils and bishops
+were wont only to declare what books were not commendable, passing no
+further till after the year 800, after which time the popes of Rome
+extended their dominion over men's eyes, as they had before over their
+judgments, burning and prohibiting to be read what they fancied not,
+till Martin V. by his Bull not only prohibited, but was the first
+that excommunicated the reading of heretical books; for about that
+time Wickliffe and Huss, growing terrible, drove the papal court to a
+stricter policy of prohibiting. To fill up the measure of encroachment,
+their last invention was to ordain that no book, pamphlet, or paper
+should be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them the keys of the
+press also out of Paradise), unless it were approved and licensed under
+the hands of two or three glutton friars.
+
+Not from any ancient state or polity or church, nor by any statute
+left us by our ancestors, but from the most tyrannous Inquisition have
+ye this book-licensing. Till then books were as freely admitted into
+the world as any other birth. No envious Juno sat cross-legged over
+the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring. That ye like not now
+these most certain authors of this licensing Order, all men who know
+the integrity of your actions will clear ye readily.
+
+
+_III.--The Futility of Prohibition_
+
+But some will say, "What though the inventors were bad, the thing, for
+all that, may be good?" It may be so, yet I am of those who believe it
+will be a harder alchemy than Lullius ever knew to sublimate any good
+use out of such an invention.
+
+Good and evil in the field of this world grow up together almost
+inseparably. As the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to
+choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil?
+I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and
+unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks
+out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not
+without dust and heat. That which purifies us is trial, and trial is
+by what is contrary. And how can we more safely, and with less danger
+scout into the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner of
+tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And this is the benefit
+which may be had of books promiscuously read.
+
+'Tis next alleged we must not expose ourselves to temptations without
+necessity, and next to that, not employ our time in vain things. To
+both these objections one answer will serve--that to all men such books
+are not temptations, nor vanities, but useful drugs and materials
+wherewith to temper and compose effective and strong medicines. The
+rest, as children and childish men, who have not the art to qualify
+and prepare these working minerals, well may be exhorted to forbear,
+but hindered forcibly they cannot be by all the licensing that sainted
+Inquisition could ever yet contrive.
+
+This Order of licensing conduces nothing to the end for which it was
+framed. If we think to regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners,
+we must regulate all recreations and pastimes, all that is delightful
+to man. No music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is
+grave and Doric. There must be licensing dancers, that no gesture,
+motion, or deportment be taught our youth but what by their allowance
+shall be thought honest. Our garments, also, should be referred to
+the licensing of some more sober workmasters to see them cut into a
+less wanton garb. Who shall regulate all the mixed conversation of our
+youth? Who shall still appoint what shall be discoursed, what presumed,
+and no further? Lastly, who shall forbid and separate all idle resort,
+all evil company? If every action which is good or evil in man at ripe
+years were to be under pittance and prescription and compulsion, what
+were virtue but a name?
+
+When God gave Adam reason, he gave him reason to choose, for reason is
+but choosing. Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures
+round about us, but that these rightly tempered are the very
+ingredients of virtue?
+
+Why should we then affect a rigour contrary to the manner of God and
+of nature, by abridging or scanting those means which books freely
+permitted are both to the trial of virtue and the exercise of truth?
+
+
+_IV.--An Indignity to Learning_
+
+I lastly proceed from the no good it can do to the manifest hurt
+it causes in being, first, the greatest discouragement and affront
+that can be offered to learning and to learned men. If ye be loth to
+dishearten utterly and discontent the free and ingenuous sort of such
+as were born to study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre or
+any other end but the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that
+lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which God and good men have
+consented shall be the reward of those whose published labours advance
+the good of mankind, then know that so far to distrust the judgment and
+the honesty of one who hath but a common repute in learning, and never
+yet offended, as not to count him fit to print his mind without a tutor
+and examiner, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and
+knowing spirit that can be put upon him.
+
+When a man writes to the world he summons up all his reason and
+deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and
+likely consults and confers with his judicious friends. If in this,
+the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no
+industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state
+of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he
+carry all his considerate diligence to the hasty view of an unleisured
+licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps far his inferior in
+judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labour of book-writing, and if
+he be not repulsed or slighted, must appear in print with his censor's
+hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and surety that he is no
+idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the
+author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning.
+
+And, further, to me it seems an undervaluing and vilifying of the whole
+nation. I cannot set so light by all the invention, the art, the wit,
+the grave and solid judgment which is in England, as that it can be
+comprehended in any twenty capacities how good soever, much less that
+it should not pass except their superintendence be over it, except
+it be sifted and strained with their strainers, that it should be
+uncurrent without their manual stamp. Truth and understanding are not
+such wares as to be monopolised and traded in by tickets and statutes
+and standards.
+
+Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation it is whereof ye
+are, and whereof ye are the governors--a nation not slow and dull, but
+of a quick, ingenious and piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and
+sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest
+that human capacity can soar to. Is it for nothing that the grave and
+frugal Transylvanian sends out yearly from as far as the mountainous
+borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their
+youth, but their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic
+arts? By all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy
+and devout men, God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in
+His Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself. What does He,
+then, but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner is, first
+to His Englishmen?
+
+Behold now this vast city--a city of refuge, the mansion house of
+liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection. The shop of
+war hath not there more anvils and hammers waking to fashion out the
+plates and instruments of armed justice in defence of beleaguered
+truth than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious
+lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith
+to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching
+Reformation; others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting
+to the force of reason and convincement. What could a man require
+more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge?
+Where there is much desire to learn, there, of necessity, will be
+much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men
+is but knowledge in the making. A little generous prudence, a little
+forbearance of one another, and some grain of charity might win all
+these diligencies to join and unite in one general search after
+truth, could we but forego this prelatical tradition of crowding free
+consciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men.
+
+Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself
+like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks.
+Methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling
+her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam; purging and unsealing her
+long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while
+the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that
+love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in
+their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.
+
+What should ye do then? Should ye suppress all this flowery crop
+of knowledge and new light? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty
+engrossers over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we
+shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe
+it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing do
+as good as bid ye suppress yourselves. If it be desired to know the
+immediate cause of all this free writing and free speaking, there
+cannot be assigned a truer than your own mild, and free, and humane
+government. It is the liberty, Lords and Commons, which our own
+valorous and happy counsels have purchased us, liberty, which is the
+nurse of all great wits. Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to
+argue freely according to conscience above all liberties. And though
+all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so
+Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting,
+to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple. Whoever knew
+Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter? For who knows not
+that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor
+stratagems, nor licensing to make her victorious. Those are the shifts
+and defences that error uses against her power. Give her but room, and
+do not bind her when she sleeps.
+
+
+
+
+PLUTARCH
+
+Parallel Lives
+
+  Little is known of the life of Plutarch, greatest of biographers.
+  He was born about 50 A.D., at Chaeronea, in Boeotia, Greece, the
+  son of a learned and virtuous father. He studied philosophy
+  under Ammonius at Delphi, and on his return to his native city
+  became a priest of Apollo, and archon, or chief magistrate.
+  Plutarch wrote many philosophical works, which are enumerated by
+  his son Lamprias, but are no longer extant. We have about fifty
+  biographies, which are called "parallel" because of the method
+  by which Plutarch, after giving separately the lives of two or
+  more people, proceeds to compare them with one another. The
+  "Lives" were translated into French in Henry II.'s reign, and
+  into English in the time of Elizabeth. They have been exceedingly
+  popular at every period, and many authors, including Shakespeare,
+  have owed much to them. Plutarch died about 120 A.D.
+
+
+_I.--Lycurgus and Numa_
+
+According to the best authors, Lycurgus, the law-giver, reigned only
+for eight months as king of Sparta, until the widow of the late king,
+his brother, had given birth to a son, whom he named Charilaus. He
+then travelled for some years in Crete, Asia, and possibly also in
+Egypt, Libya, Spain, and India, studying governments and manners; and
+returning to Sparta, he set himself to alter the whole constitution of
+that kingdom, with the encouragement of the oracles and the favour of
+Charilaus.
+
+The first institution was a senate of twenty-eight members, whose place
+it was to strengthen the throne when the people encroached too far, and
+to support the people when the king should attempt to become absolute.
+Occasional popular assemblies, in the open air, were to be called, not
+to propose any subject of debate, but only to ratify or reject the
+proposals of the senate and the two kings.
+
+His second political enterprise was a new division of the lands, for
+he found a prodigious inequality, wealth being centred in the hands of
+a few; and by this reform Laconia became like an estate newly divided
+among many brothers. Each plot of land was sufficient to maintain a
+family in health, and they wanted nothing more.
+
+Then, desiring also to equalise property in movable objects, he
+resorted to the device of doing away with gold and silver currency, and
+establishing an iron coinage, of which great bulk and weight went to
+but little value. He excluded all unprofitable and superfluous arts;
+and the Spartans soon had no means of purchasing foreign wares, nor did
+any merchant ship unlade in their harbours. Luxury died away of itself,
+and the workmanship of their necessary and useful furniture rose to
+great excellence.
+
+Public tables were now established, where all must eat in common of
+the same frugal meal; whereby hardiness and health of body and mutual
+benevolence of mind were alike promoted. There were about fifteen to
+a table, to which each contributed in provisions or in money; the
+conversation was liberal and well-informed, and salted with pleasant
+raillery.
+
+Lycurgus left no law in writing; he depended on principles pervading
+the customs of the people; and he reduced the whole business of
+legislation into the bringing up of the young. And in this matter
+he began truly at the beginning, by regulating marriages. The man
+unmarried after the prescribed age was prosecuted and disgraced; and
+the father of four children was immune from taxation.
+
+Lycurgus considered the children as the property of the state rather
+than of the parents, and derided the vanity of other nations, who
+studied to have horses of the finest breed, yet had their children
+begotten by ordinary persons rather than by the best and healthiest
+men. At birth, the children were carried to be examined by the oldest
+men in council, who had the weaklings thrown away into a cavern, and
+gave orders for the education of the sturdy.
+
+As for learning, they had just what was necessary and no more, their
+education being directed chiefly to making them obedient, laborious,
+and warlike. They went barefoot, and for the most part naked. They were
+trained to steal with astuteness, to suffer pain and hunger, and to
+express themselves without an unnecessary word. Dignified poetry and
+music were encouraged. To the end of his life, the Spartan was kept
+ever in mind that he was born, not for himself, but for his country;
+the city was like one great camp, where each had his stated allowance
+and his stated public charge.
+
+Let us turn now to Numa Pompilius, the great law-giver of the
+Romans. A Sabine of illustrious virtue and great simplicity of life,
+he was elected to be king after the interregnum which followed on
+the disappearance of Romulus. He had spent much time in solitary
+wanderings in the sacred groves and other retired places; and there,
+it is reported, the goddess Egeria communicated to him a happiness and
+knowledge more than mortal.
+
+Numa was in his fortieth year, and was not easily persuaded to
+undertake the Roman kingdom. But his disinclination was overcome, and
+he was received with loud acclamations as the most pious of men and
+most beloved of the gods. His first act was to discharge the body-guard
+provided for him, and to appoint a priest for the cult of Romulus. But
+his great task was to soften the Romans, as iron is softened by fire,
+and to bring them from a violent and warlike disposition to a juster
+and more gentle temper. For Rome was composed at first of most hardy
+and resolute men, inveterate warriors.
+
+To reduce this people to mildness and peace, he called in the
+assistance of religion. By sacrifices, solemn dances, and processions,
+wherein he himself officiated, he mixed the charms of festal pleasure
+with holy ritual.
+
+He founded the hierarchy of priests, the vestal virgins, and several
+other sacred orders; and passed most of his time in performing some
+religious function or in conversing with the priests on some divine
+subject. And by all this discipline the people became so tractable,
+and were so impressed with Numa's power, that they would believe the
+most fabulous tales, and thought nothing impossible which he undertook.
+Numa further introduced agriculture, and fostered it as an incentive to
+peace; he distributed the citizens of Rome into guilds, or companies,
+according to their several arts and trades; he reformed the calendar,
+and did many other services to his people.
+
+Comparing, now, Lycurgus and Numa, we find that their resemblances are
+obvious--their wisdom, piety, talent for government, and their deriving
+their laws from a divine source. Of their distinctions, the chief is
+that Numa accepted, but Lycurgus relinquished, a crown; and as it was
+an honour to the former to attain royal dignity by his justice, so it
+was an honour to the latter to prefer justice to that dignity. Again,
+Lycurgus tuned up the strings of Sparta, which he found relaxed with
+luxury, to a keener pitch; Numa, on the contrary, softened the high and
+harsh tone of Rome. Both were equally studious to lead their people
+to sobriety, but Lycurgus was more attached to fortitude and Numa to
+justice.
+
+Though Numa put an end to the gain of rapine, he made no provision
+against the accumulation of great fortunes, nor against poverty, which
+then began to spread within the city. He ought rather to have watched
+against these dangers, for they gave birth to the many troubles that
+befell the Roman state.
+
+
+_II.--Aristides and Cato_
+
+Aristides had a close friendship with Clisthenes, who established
+popular government in Athens after the expulsion of the tyrants; yet
+he had at the same time a great veneration for Lycurgus of Sparta,
+whom he regarded as supreme among law-givers; and this led him to
+be a supporter of aristocracy, in which he was always opposed by
+Themistocles, the democrat. The latter was insinuating, daring, artful,
+and impetuous, but Aristides was solid and steady, inflexibly just, and
+incapable of flattery or deceit.
+
+Neither elated by honour nor disheartened by ill success, Aristides
+became deeply founded in the estimation of the best citizens. He
+was appointed public treasurer, and showed up the peculations of
+Themistocles and of others who had preceded him. When the fleet of
+Darius was at Marathon, with a view to subjugating Greece, Miltiades
+and Aristides were the Greek generals, who by custom were to command
+by turns, day about; and Aristides freely gave up his command to the
+other, to promote unity of discipline, and to give example of military
+obedience. The next year he became archon. Though a poor man and a
+commoner, Aristides won the royal and divine title of "the Just." At
+first loved and respected for his surname "the Just," Aristides came to
+be envied and dreaded for so extraordinary an honour, and the citizens
+assembled from all the towns in Attica and banished him by ostracism,
+cloaking their envy of his character under the pretence of guarding
+against tyranny. Three years later they reversed this decree, fearing
+lest Aristides should join the cause of Xerxes. They little knew the
+man; even before his recall he had been inciting the Greeks to defend
+their liberty.
+
+In the great battle of Plataea, Aristides was in command of the
+Athenians; Pausanias, commander-in-chief of all the confederates,
+joined him there with the Spartans. The opposing Persian army covered
+an immense area. In the engagements which took place the Greeks behaved
+with the utmost firmness, and at last stormed the Persian camp, with
+a prodigious slaughter of the enemy. When, later, Aristides was
+entrusted with the task of assessing the cities of the allies for a
+tax towards the war, and was thus clothed with an authority which made
+him master of Greece, though he set out poor he returned yet poorer,
+having arranged the burden with equal justice and humanity. In fact, he
+esteemed his poverty no less a glory than all the laurels he had won.
+
+The Roman counterpart of Aristides was Cato; which name he received
+for his wisdom, for Romans call wise men Catos. Marcus Cato, the
+censor, came of an obscure family, yet his father and grandfather were
+excellent soldiers. He lived on an estate which his father left him
+near the Sabine country. With red hair and grey eyes, his appearance
+was such, says an epigram, as to scare the spirits of the departed.
+Inured to labour and temperance, he had the sound constitution of one
+brought up in camps; and he had practised eloquence as a necessary
+instrument for one who would mix with affairs. While still a lad he had
+fought in so many battles that his breast was covered with scars; and
+all who spoke with him noted a gravity of behaviour and a dignity of
+sentiment such as to fit him for high responsibilities.
+
+A powerful nobleman, Valerius Flaccus, whose estate was near Cato's
+home, heard his servants praise their neighbour's laborious life.
+He sent for Cato, and, charmed with his sweet temper and ready wit,
+persuaded him to go to Rome and apply himself to political affairs. His
+rise was rapid; he became tribune of the soldiers, then quaestor, and at
+last was the colleague of Valerius both as consul and as censor.
+
+Cato's eloquence brought him the epithet of the Roman Demosthenes, but
+he was even more celebrated for his manner of living. Few were willing
+to imitate him in the ancient custom of tilling the ground with his own
+hands, in eating a dinner prepared without fire, and a spare, frugal
+supper; few thought it more honourable not to want superfluities than
+to possess them. By reason of its vast dominions, the commonwealth had
+lost its pristine purity and integrity; the citizens were frightened
+at labour and enervated by pleasure. But Cato never wore a costly
+garment nor partook of an elaborate meal; even when consul he drank
+the same wine as his servants. He thought nothing cheap that is
+superfluous. Some called him mean and narrow, others thought that he
+was setting an object-lesson to the growing luxury of the age. For my
+part, I think that his custom of using his servants like beasts of
+burden, and of turning them off or selling them when grown old, was the
+mark of an ungenerous spirit, which thinks that the sole tie between
+man and man is interest or necessity. For my own part, I would not sell
+even an old ox that had laboured for me.
+
+However that may be, his temperance was wonderful. When governor of
+Sardinia, where his predecessors had put the province to great expense,
+he did not even use a carriage, but walked from town to town with
+one attendant. He was inexorable in everything that concerned public
+justice. He proved himself a brave general in the field; and when
+he became censor, which was the highest dignity of the republic, he
+waged an uncompromising campaign against luxury, by means of an almost
+prohibitive tax on the expenditure of ostentatious superfluity. His
+style in speaking was at once humorous, familiar, and forcible, and
+many of his wise and pregnant sayings are remembered.
+
+When we compare Aristides and Cato, we are at once struck by many
+resemblances; and examining the several parts of their lives
+distinctly, as we examine a poem or a picture, we find that they both
+rose to great honour without the help of family connections, and merely
+by their own virtue and abilities. Both of them were equally victorious
+in war; but in politics Aristides was less successful, being banished
+by the faction of Themistocles; while Cato, though his antagonists
+were the most powerful men in Rome, kept his footing to the end like a
+skilled wrestler.
+
+Again, Cato was no less attentive to the management of his domestic
+affairs than he was to affairs of state, and not only increased his own
+fortune, but became a guide to others in finance and in agriculture.
+But Aristides, by his indigence, brought disgrace upon justice itself,
+as if it were the ruin and impoverishment of families; it is even said
+that he left not enough for the portions of his daughters nor for the
+expenses of his own funeral. So Cato's family produced praetors and
+consuls to the fourth generation; but of the descendants of Aristides
+some were conjurors and paupers, and not one of them had a sentiment
+worthy of his illustrious ancestor.
+
+
+_III.--Demosthenes and Cicero_
+
+That these two great orators were originally formed by nature in the
+same mould is shown by the similarity of their dispositions. They had
+the same ambition, the same love of liberty, and the same timidity
+in war and danger. Their fortunes also were similar; both raised
+themselves from obscure beginnings to authority and power; both opposed
+kings and tyrants; both of them were banished, then returned with
+honour, were forced to fly again, and were taken by their enemies; and
+with both of them expired the liberties of their countries.
+
+Demosthenes, while a weakly child of seven years, lost his father, and
+his fortune was dissipated by unworthy guardians. But his ambition
+was fired in early years by hearing the pleadings of the orator
+Callistratus, and by noting the honours which attended success in that
+profession. He at once applied himself to the practice of declamation,
+and studied rhetoric under Isaeus; and as soon as he came of age he
+appeared at the Bar in the prosecution of his guardians for their
+embezzlements. Though successful in this claim, Demosthenes had much to
+learn, and his earlier speeches provoked the amusement of his audience.
+His manner was at once violent and confused, his voice weak and
+stammering, and his delivery breathless; but these faults were overcome
+by an arduous and protracted course of exercise in the subterraneous
+study which he had built, where he would remain for two or three months
+together. He corrected the stammering by speaking with pebbles in his
+mouth; strengthened his voice by running uphill and declaiming while
+still unbreathed; and his attitude and gestures were studied before a
+mirror.
+
+Demosthenes was rarely heard to speak extempore, and though the people
+called upon him in the assembly, he would sit silent unless he had come
+prepared. He wrote a great part, if not the whole, of each oration
+beforehand, so that it was objected that his arguments "smelled of the
+lamp"; yet, on exceptional occasions, he would speak unprepared, and
+then as if from a supernatural impulse.
+
+His nature was vindictive and his resentment implacable. He was never
+a time-server in word or in action, and he maintained to the end the
+political standpoint with which he had begun. The glorious object of
+his ambition was the defence of the cause of Greece against Philip;
+and most of his orations, including these Philippics, are written
+upon the principle that the right and worthy course is to be chosen
+for its own sake. He does not exhort his countrymen to that which is
+most agreeable, or easy, or advantageous, but to that which is most
+honourable. If, besides this noble ambition of his and the lofty tone
+of his orations, he had been gifted also with warlike courage and had
+kept his hands clean from bribes, Demosthenes would have deserved to be
+numbered with Cimon, Thucydides, and Pericles.
+
+Cicero's wonderful genius came to light even in his school-days; he
+had the capacity and inclination to learn all the arts, but was most
+inclined to poetry, and the time came when he was reputed the best
+poet as well as the greatest orator in Rome. After a training in law
+and some experience of the wars, he retired to a life of philosophic
+study, but being persuaded to appear in the courts for Roscius, who was
+unjustly charged with the murder of his father, Cicero immediately made
+his reputation as an orator.
+
+His health was weak; he could eat but little, and that only late in
+the day; his voice was harsh, loud, and ill regulated; but, like
+Demosthenes, he was able by assiduous practice to modulate his
+enunciation to a full, sonorous, and sweet tone, and his studies under
+the leading rhetoricians of Greece and Asia perfected his eloquence.
+
+His diligence, justice, and moderation were evidenced by his conduct
+in public offices, as quaestor, praetor, and then as consul. In his
+attack on Catiline's conspiracy, he showed the Romans what charms
+eloquence can add to truth, and that justice is invincible when
+properly supported. But his immoderate love of praise interrupted his
+best designs, and he made himself obnoxious to many by continually
+magnifying himself.
+
+Demosthenes, by concentrating all his powers on the single art of
+speaking, became unrivalled in the power, grandeur, and accuracy of
+his eloquence. Cicero's studies had a wider range; he strove to excel
+not only as an orator, but as a philosopher and a scholar also. Their
+difference of temperament is reflected in their styles. Demosthenes is
+always grave and serious, an austere man of thought; Cicero, on the
+other hand, loves his jest, and is sometimes playful to the point of
+buffoonery. The Greek orator never touches upon his own praise except
+with some great point in view, and then does it modestly and without
+offence; the Roman does not seek to hide his intemperate vanity.
+
+Both of these men had high political abilities; but while the former
+held no public office, and lies under the suspicion of having at times
+sold his talent to the highest bidder, the latter ruled provinces as a
+pro-consul at a time when avarice reigned unbridled, and became known
+only for his humanity and his contempt of money.
+
+
+
+
+MADAME DE STAEL
+
+On Germany
+
+  Madame de Stael's book "On Germany" (De l'Allemagne) was finished
+  in 1810. The manuscript was passed by the censor, and partly
+  printed, when the whole impression was seized by the order of the
+  Emperor and destroyed. Madame de Stael herself escaped secretly,
+  and came eventually to London, where, in 1813, the work was
+  published. She did not long survive the fall of her tremendous
+  enemy, Napoleon, but died in her beloved Paris on July 14, 1817.
+  When it is considered that "On Germany" was written by other
+  than an inhabitant of the country, and that Madame de Stael did
+  not travel far beyond her own residences at Mainz, Frankfort,
+  Berlin, and Vienna, the work may be reckoned the most remarkable
+  performance of its kind in literature or biography (Mme. de
+  Stael, biography: see Vol. VIII, p. 89).
+
+
+_I.--Germany, Its People and Customs_
+
+The multitude and extent of the forests indicate a still new
+civilisation. Germany still shows traces of uninhabited nature. It is
+a sad country, and time is needed to discover what there is to love in
+it. The ruined castles on the hills, the narrow windows of the houses,
+the long stretches of snow in winter, the silence of nature and men,
+all contribute towards the sadness. Yet the country and its inhabitants
+are interesting and poetical. You feel that human souls and imagination
+have embellished this land.
+
+The only remarkable monuments in Germany are the Gothic ones which
+recall the age of chivalry. Modern German architecture is not worth
+mentioning, but the towns are well built, and the people try to make
+their houses look as cheerful and pleasing as possible. The gardens
+in some parts of Germany are almost as beautiful as in England, which
+denotes love of nature. Often, in the midst of the superb gardens of
+the German princes, aeolian harps are placed; the breezes waft sound
+and scent at once. Thus northern imagination tries to construct Italian
+nature.
+
+The Germans are generally sincere and faithful; they scarcely ever
+break their word and are strangers to deception. Power of work and
+thought is another of their national traits. They are naturally
+literary and philosophical, but their pride of class affects in some
+ways their _esprit_ adversely. The nobles are lacking in ideas, and
+the men of letters know too little about business. The Germans have
+imagination rather than _esprit_.
+
+The town dwellers and the country folk, the soldiers and the
+workmen, nearly all have some knowledge of music. I have been to
+some poor houses, blackened with tobacco smoke, and not only the
+mistress, but also the master of the house, improvise on the piano,
+just as the Italians improvise in verse. Instrumental music is as
+generally fostered in Germany as vocal music is in Italy. Italy has
+the advantage, because instrumental music requires work, whilst the
+southern sky suffices to produce beautiful voices.
+
+Peasant women and servants, who are too poor to put on finery, decorate
+their hair with a few flowers, so that imagination may at least enter
+into their attire.
+
+One is constantly struck in Germany with the contrast between sentiment
+and custom, between talent and taste; civilisation and nature do not
+seem to have properly amalgamated yet. Enthusiasm for art and poetry
+goes with very vulgar habits in social life. Nothing could be more
+bizarre than the combination of the warlike aspect of Germany, where
+soldiers are met at every step, with the indoor life led by the people.
+There is a dread of fatigue and change of air, as if the nation were
+composed only of shopkeepers and men of letters; and yet all the
+institutions tend towards giving the nation military habits.
+
+Stoves, beer, and tobacco-smoke crate around the German people a kind
+of heavy and hot atmosphere which they do not like to leave. This
+atmosphere is injurious to activity, which is at least as necessary
+in war as in courage; resolutions are slow, discouragement is easy,
+because a generally sad existence does not engender much confidence in
+fortune.
+
+Three motive powers lead men to fight: love of the fatherland and
+of liberty, love of glory, and religious fanaticism. There is not
+much love of the fatherland in an Empire that has been divided for
+centuries, where Germans fought against Germans; love of glory is not
+very lively where there is no centre, no capital, no society. The
+Germans are much more apt to get roused by abstract ideas than by the
+interests of life.
+
+The love of liberty is not developed with the Germans; they have learnt
+neither by enjoyment, nor by privation, the prize that may be attached
+to it. The very independence enjoyed by Germany in all respects made
+the Germans indifferent to liberty; independence is a possession,
+liberty a guarantee, and just because nobody was crossed in Germany
+either in his rights or in his pleasures, nobody felt the need for an
+order of things that would maintain this happiness.
+
+The Germans, with few exceptions, are scarcely capable of succeeding
+in anything that requires cleverness and skill; everything troubles
+them, makes them nervous, and they need method in action as well as
+independence in thought.
+
+German women have a charm of their own, a touching quality of voice,
+fair hair, and brilliant complexion; they are modest, but not as shy
+as the English. One can see that they have often met men who were
+superior to them, and that they have less cause to fear the severity of
+public judgment. They try to please by their sensibility, and to arouse
+interest by the imagination. The language of poetry and of the fine
+arts is known to them; they flirt with enthusiasm, just as one flirts
+in France with _esprit_ and wit.
+
+Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetic religion, which willingly
+tolerates all that may be excused by sensibility. The facility of
+divorce in the Protestant provinces certainly affects the sanctity of
+marriage. Husbands are changed as peacefully as if it were merely a
+question of arranging the incidents of a play. The good-nature of men
+and women prevents any bitterness entering these easy ruptures.
+
+Some German women are ever in a state of exaltation that amounts to
+affectation, and the sweet expressions of which efface whatever there
+may be piquant or pronounced in their mind and character. They are not
+frank, and yet not false either; but they see and judge nothing with
+truth, and the real events pass before their eyes like phantasmagoria.
+
+But these women are the exception. Many German women have true
+sentiment and simple manners. Their careful education and natural
+purity of soul renders their dominion gentle and moderate; every day
+they inspire you with increased interest for all that is great and
+noble, with increased confidence in every kind of hope. What is rare
+among German women is real _esprit_ and quick repartee. Conversation,
+as a talent, exists only in France; in other countries it only serves
+for polite intercourse, for discussion and for friendship; in France it
+is an art.
+
+
+_II.--On Southern Germany and Austria_
+
+Franconia, Suabia, and Bavaria were, before the foundation of the
+Munich Academy, strangely heavy and monotonous countries; no arts
+except music, little literature; an accent that did not lend itself
+well to the pronunciation of the Latin languages, no society; great
+parties that resembled ceremonies rather than amusement; obsequious
+politeness towards an unelegant aristocracy; kindness and loyalty in
+all classes, but a certain smiling stiffness which is neither ease nor
+dignity. In a country where society counts for nothing, and nature for
+little, only the literary towns can be really interesting.
+
+A temperate climate is not favourable for poetry. Where the climate
+is neither severe nor beautiful, one lives without fearing or hoping
+anything from heaven, and one only takes interest in the positive facts
+of existence. Southern Germany, temperate in every respect, keeps up a
+state of monotonous well-being which is as bad for business activity as
+it is for the activity of the mind. The keenest wish of the inhabitants
+of that peaceful and fertile country is to continue the same existence.
+And what can one do with that one desire? It is not even enough to
+preserve that with which one is contented.
+
+There are many excellent things in Austria, but few really superior
+men, because in that country it is not much use to excel one's
+neighbour; one is not envied for it, but forgotten, which is still more
+discouraging. Ambition turns in the direction of obtaining good posts.
+
+Austria, embracing so many different peoples, Bohemians, Hungarians,
+etc., has not the unity necessary for a monarchy. Yet the great
+moderation of the heads of the state has for a long time constituted a
+strong link.
+
+Industry, good living and domestic pleasures are Austria's principal
+interests. In spite of the glory she gained by the perseverance and
+valour of her troops, the military spirit has really never got hold of
+all classes of the nation.
+
+In a country where every movement is difficult, and where everything
+inspires tranquility, the slightest obstacle is an excuse for complete
+idleness of action and thought. One might say that this is real
+happiness; but does happiness consist of the faculties which one
+develops, or of those which one chokes?
+
+Vienna is situated in a plain amid picturesque hills. It is an old
+town, very small, but surrounded by very spacious suburbs. It is said
+that the city proper within the fortifications is no larger than it
+was when Richard Coeur-de-Lion was put into prison not far from its
+gates. The streets are as narrow as in Italy; the palaces recall a
+little those of Florence; in fine, nothing here resembles the rest of
+Germany except a few Gothic buildings, which bring back the Middle Ages
+to the imagination. First among these is the tower of St. Stephen's,
+around which somehow centres the whole history of Austria. No building
+can be as patriotic as a church--the only one in which all classes of
+the population meet, the only one which recalls not only the public
+events, but also the secret thoughts, the intimate affections which the
+rulers and the citizens have brought within its precincts.
+
+Every great city has some building, or promenade, some work of art
+or nature, to which the recollections of childhood are attached. It
+seems to me that the _Prater_ should have this charm for the Viennese.
+No other city can match this splendid promenade through woods and
+deer-stocked meadows. The daily promenade at a fixed hour is an Italian
+custom. Such regularity would be impossible in a country where the
+pleasures are as varied as in Paris; but the Viennese could never do
+without it. Society folk in their carriages and the people on their
+feet assemble here every evening. It is in the Prater that one is most
+struck with the easy life and the prosperity of the Viennese. Vienna
+has the uncontested reputation of consuming more food than any other
+equally populous city. You can see whole families of citizens and
+artisans starting for the Prater at five o'clock for a rustic meal as
+substantial as dinner in any other country, and the money they are able
+to spend on it proves their industry and kindly rule.
+
+At night thousands of people return, without disorder, without
+quarrel. You can scarcely hear a voice, so silently do they take their
+pleasures. It is not due to sadness, but to laziness and physical
+well-being. Society is here with magnificent horses and carriages.
+Their whole amusement is to recognise in a Prater avenue the friends
+they have just left in a drawing-room. The emperor and his brothers
+take their place in the long row of carriages, and prefer to be
+considered just as ordinary private people. They only use their rights
+when they are performing their duties. You never see a beggar: the
+charity institutions are admirably managed. And there are very few
+mortal crimes in Austria. Everything in this country bears the impress
+of a paternal, wise, and religious government.
+
+
+_III.--On the German Language_
+
+Germany is better suited for prose than for poetry, and the prose is
+better written than spoken; it is an excellent instrument if you wish
+to describe or to say everything; but you cannot playfully pass from
+subject to subject as you can in French. If you would adapt the German
+words to the French style of conversation you would rob them altogether
+of grace and dignity. The merit of the Germans is to fill their time
+well; the talent of the French is to make us forget time.
+
+Although the sense of German sentences is frequently only revealed at
+the very end, the construction does not always permit to close a phrase
+with the most piquant expression, which is one of the great means to
+make conversation effective. You rarely hear among the Germans what
+is known as a _bon-mot_; you have to admire the thought and not the
+brilliant way in which it is expressed.
+
+Brilliant expression is considered a kind of charlatanism by
+the Germans, who take to abstract expression because it is more
+conscientious and approaches more closely to the very essence of
+truth. But conversation ought not to cause any trouble either to the
+listener or to the speaker. As soon as conversation in Germany departs
+from the ordinary interests of life it becomes too metaphysical;
+there is nothing between the common and the sublime; and it is just
+this intermediate region that is the proper sphere for the art of
+conversation.
+
+
+WEIMAR
+
+Of all the German principalities, Weimar makes one best realise the
+advantages of a small country, if the ruler is a man of fine intellect
+who may try to please his subjects without losing their obedience. The
+Duchess Louise of Saxe-Weimar is the true model of a woman destined
+for high rank. The duke's military talents are highly esteemed; his
+conversation is pointed and well considered; his intellect and his
+mother's have attracted the most distinguished men of letters to
+Weimar. Germany had for the first time a literary capital.
+
+Herder had just died when I arrived at Weimar, but Wieland, Goethe,
+and Schiller were still there. They can be judged from their works,
+for their books bear a striking resemblance to their character and
+conversation.
+
+Life in small towns has never appealed to me. Man's intellect seems to
+become narrow and woman's heart cold. One feels oppressed by the close
+proximity of one's equals. All the actions of your life are minutely
+examined in detail, until the ensemble of your character is no longer
+understood. And the more your spirit is independent and elevated, the
+less you can breathe within the narrow confines. This disagreeable
+discomfort did not exist at Weimar, which was not a little town, but a
+large castle. A chosen circle took a lively interest in every new art
+production. Imagination, constantly stimulated by the conversation of
+the poets, felt less need for those outside distractions which lighten
+the burden of existence but often dissipates its forces. Weimar has
+been called the Athens of Germany, and rightly so. It was the only
+place where interest in the fine arts was, so to speak, rational and
+served as fraternal link between the different ranks.
+
+
+_IV.--Prussia_
+
+To know Prussia, one has to study the character of Frederick II. A man
+has created this empire which had not been favoured by nature, and
+which has only become a power because a soldier has been its master.
+There are two distinct men in Frederick II.: a German by nature, and a
+Frenchman by education. All that the German did in a German kingdom has
+left lasting traces; all that the Frenchman tried has been fruitless.
+
+Frederick's great misfortune was that he had not enough respect
+for religion and customs. His tastes were cynical. Frederick, in
+liberating his subjects of what he called prejudices, stifled in
+them their patriotism, for in order to get attached to a naturally
+sombre and sterile country one must be ruled by very stern opinions
+and principles. Frederick's predilection for war may be excused on
+political grounds. His realm, as he took it over from his father, could
+not exist, and aggrandisement was necessary for its preservation. He
+had two and a half million subjects when he ascended the throne, and he
+left six millions on his death.
+
+One of his greatest wrongs was his share in the division of Poland.
+Silesia was acquired by force of arms. Poland by Macchiavellian
+conquest, "and one could never hope that subjects thus robbed should be
+faithful to the juggler who called himself their sovereign."
+
+Frederick II. wanted French literature to rule alone in his country,
+and had no consideration for German literature, which, no doubt, was
+then not as remarkable as it is to-day; but a German prince should
+encourage all that is German. Frederick wanted to make Berlin resemble
+Paris, and he flattered himself to have found among the French
+refugees some writers of sufficient distinction to have a French
+literature. Such hope was bound to be deceptive. Artificial culture
+never prospers; a few individuals may fight against the natural
+difficulties, but the masses will always follow their natural leaning.
+Frederick did a real wrong to his country when he professed to despise
+German genius.
+
+
+BERLIN
+
+Berlin is a large town, with wide, long, straight streets, beautiful
+houses, and an orderly aspect; but as it has only recently been
+rebuilt, it contains nothing to recall the past. No Gothic monument
+exists among the modern dwellings, and this newly-formed country is in
+no way interfered with by the past. But modern Berlin, with all its
+beauty, does not impress me seriously. It tells nothing of the history
+of the country or the character of its inhabitants; and these beautiful
+new houses seem to be destined only for the comfortable gatherings of
+business or industry. The most beautiful palaces of Berlin are built of
+brick. Prussia's capital resembles Prussia herself; its buildings and
+institutions have the age of one generation, and no more, because one
+man alone is their creator.
+
+
+
+
+THE "GERMANIA" OF TACITUS
+
+Customs and Peoples of Germany
+
+  "Germania," the full title of which is "Concerning the Geography,
+  the Manners and Customs, and the Peoples of Germany," consists
+  of forty-six sections, the first twenty-seven describing the
+  characteristics of the peoples, their customs, beliefs, and
+  institutions; the remaining nineteen dealing with the individual
+  peculiarities of each separate tribe. As a record of the Teutonic
+  tribes, written purely from an ethical and rhetorical standpoint,
+  the work is of the utmost importance, and, on the whole, is
+  regarded as trustworthy. Its weak point is its geography, details
+  of which Tacitus (see Vol. XI, p. 156) no doubt gathered from
+  hearsay. The main object of the work was not so much to compose
+  a history of Germany, as to draw a comparison between the
+  independence of the Northern peoples and the corrupt civilisation
+  of contemporary Roman life. Possibly, also, Tacitus intended to
+  sound a note of alarm.
+
+
+_I.--Germany and the German Tribes_
+
+The whole of Germany is thus bounded. It is separated from Gaul,
+Rhaetia, and Pannonia by the rivers Rhine and Danube; from Sarmatia and
+Dacia by mutual fear, or by high mountains; the rest is encompassed by
+the ocean, which forms vast bays and contains many large islands. The
+Rhine, rising from a rocky summit in the Rhaetian Alps, winds westward,
+and is lost in the northern ocean. The Danube, issuing from Mount
+Abnoba, traverses several countries and finally falls into the Euxine.
+
+I believe that the population is indigenous to Germany, and that the
+nation is free from foreign admixture. They affirm Germany to be a
+recent word, lately bestowed on those who first passed the Rhine and
+repulsed the Gauls. From one tribe the whole nation has thus been
+named. They cherish a tradition that Hercules had been in their
+country, and him they extol in their battle songs. Some are of opinion
+that Ulysses also, during his long wanderings, was carried into this
+ocean and entered Germany, and that he founded the city Asciburgium,
+which stands at this day upon the bank of the Rhine. Such traditions I
+purpose myself neither to confirm nor to refute; but I agree with those
+who maintain that the Germans have never intermingled by marriages with
+other nations, but have remained a pure, independent people, resembling
+none but themselves.
+
+With whatever differences in various districts, their territory mainly
+consists of gloomy forests or insalubrious marshes, lower and more
+humid towards Gaul, more hilly and bleak towards Noricum and Pannonia.
+The soil is suited to the production of grain, but less so for the
+cultivation of fruits. Flocks and herds abound, but the cattle are
+somewhat small. Their herds are their most valued possessions. Silver
+and gold the gods have denied them, whether in mercy or in wrath I
+cannot determine. Nor is iron plentiful with them, as may be judged
+from their weapons. Swords or long spears they rarely use, for they
+fight chiefly with javelins and shields. Their strength lies mainly in
+their foot, and such is the swiftness of the infantry that it can suit
+and match the motions and engagements of the cavalry.
+
+Generals are chosen for their courage, kings are elected through
+distinction of race. The power of the rulers is not unlimited or
+arbitrary, and the generals secure obedience mainly by force of the
+example of their own enterprise and bravery.
+
+Therefore, when going on a campaign, they carry with them sacred images
+taken from the sacred groves. It is their custom also to flock to the
+field of war not merely in battalions, but with whole families and
+tribes of relations. Thus, close to the scene of conflict are lodged
+the most cherished pledges of nature, and the cries of wives and
+infants are heard mingling with the echoes of battle. Their wounds
+and injuries they carry to their mothers and wives, and the women
+administer food and encouragement to their husbands and sons even while
+these are engaged in fighting.
+
+
+_II.--Customs of Government and War_
+
+Mercury is the god most generally worshipped. To him at certain times
+it is lawful to offer even human sacrifices. Hercules, Mars, and Isis
+are also recognised as deities. From the majesty of celestial beings,
+the Germans judge it to be unsuitable to hold their shrines within
+walls, or to represent them under any human likeness. They therefore
+consecrate whole woods and groves, and on these sylvan retreats they
+bestow the names of the deities, thus beholding the divinities only in
+contemplation and mental reverence.
+
+Although the chiefs regulate affairs of minor import, the whole nation
+deliberates concerning matters of higher consequence, the chiefs
+afterwards discussing the public decision. The assemblies gather
+leisurely, for sometimes many do not arrive for two or three days. The
+priests enjoin silence, and on them is devolved the prerogative of
+correction. The chiefs are heard according to precedence, or age, or
+nobility, or warlike celebrity, or eloquence. Ability to persuade has
+more influence than authority to command. Inarticulate murmurs express
+displeasure at a proposition, pleasure is indicated by the brandishing
+of javelins and the clashing of arms.
+
+Punishments vary with the character of crime. Traitors and deserters
+are hanged on trees; cowards, sluggards, and vicious women are
+smothered in bogs. Fines, to be paid in horses or cattle, are exacted
+for lighter offences, part of the mulct being awarded to the party
+wronged, part to the chief.
+
+The Germans transact no business without carrying arms, but no man
+thus bears weapons till the community has tested his capacity to
+wield them. When the public approval has been signified, the youth is
+invested in the midst of the assembly by his father or other relative
+with a shield and javelin.
+
+Their chief distinction is to be constantly surrounded by a great
+band of select young men, for their honour in peace and their help in
+warfare.
+
+In battle it is disgraceful to a chief to be surpassed in feats of
+bravery, and it is an indelible reproach to his followers to return
+alive from a conflict in which their prince has been slain. The chief
+fights for victory, his followers fight for him. The Germans are so
+restless that they cannot endure repose, and thus many of the young
+men of rank, if their own tribe is tranquil, quit it for a community
+which happens to be engaged in war. In place of pay the retainers are
+supplied with daily repasts, grossly prepared, but always profuse.
+
+
+_III.--Domestic Customs of the Germans_
+
+Intervals of peace are not much devoted to the chase by the Germans,
+but rather to indolence, to sleep, and to feasting. Many surrender
+themselves entirely to sloth and gluttony, the cares of house, lands,
+and possessions being left to the wives. It is an astonishing paradox
+that in the same men should co-exist so much delight in idleness and so
+great a repugnance to tranquil life.
+
+The Germans do not dwell in cities, and endure no contiguity in their
+abodes, inhabiting spots distinct and apart, just as they fancy,
+a fountain, a grove, or a field. Their villages consist of houses
+arranged in opposite rows, not joined together as are ours. Each is
+detached, with space around, and mortar and tiles are unknown. Many, in
+winter, retreat to holes dug in the ground, to which they convey their
+grain.
+
+The laws of matrimony are strictly observed, and polygamy is rarely
+practised among the Germans. The dowry is not brought by the wife,
+but by the husband. Conjugal infidelity is exceedingly rare, and is
+instantly punished. In all families the children are reared without
+clothing, and thus grow into those physical proportions which are so
+wonderful to look upon. They are invariably suckled by their mothers,
+never being entrusted to nursemaids. The young people do not hasten to
+marry, and thus the robust vigour of the parents is inherited by their
+offspring.
+
+No nation was ever more noted for hospitality. It is esteemed inhuman
+to refuse to admit to the home any stranger whatever. Every comer is
+willingly received and generously feasted. Hosts and guests delight in
+exchanging gifts. To continue drinking night and day is no reproach
+to any man. Quarrels through inebriety are very frequent, and these
+often result in injuries and in fatalities. But likewise, in these
+convivial feasts they usually deliberate about effecting reconciliation
+between those who are at enmity, and also about forming affinities, the
+election of chiefs, and peace and war.
+
+Slaves gained in gambling with dice are exchanged in commerce to
+remove the shame of such victories. Of their other slaves each has a
+dwelling of his own, his lord treating him like a tenant, exacting
+from him an amount of grain, or cattle, or cloth. Thus their slaves
+are not subservient as are ours. For they do not perform services in
+the households of their masters, these duties falling to the wives and
+children of the family. Slaves are rarely seen in chains or punished
+with stripes, though in the heat of passion they may sometimes be
+killed.
+
+Usury and borrowing at interest are unknown. The families every year
+shift on the spacious plains, cultivating fresh allotments of the
+soil. Only corn is grown, for there is no inclination to expend toil
+proportionate to the capacity of the lands by planting orchards, or
+enclosing meadows, or watering gardens.
+
+Their funerals are not ostentatious, neither apparel nor perfumes being
+accumulated on the pile, though the arms of the deceased are thrown
+into the fire. Little demonstration is made in weeping or wailing, but
+the grief endures long. So much concerning the customs of the whole
+German nation.
+
+
+_IV.--Tribes of the West and North_
+
+I shall now describe the institutions of the several tribes, as they
+differ from one another, giving also an account of those who from
+thence removed, migrating to Gaul. That the Gauls were more powerful
+in former times is shown by that prince of authors, the deified Julius
+Caesar. Hence it is probable that they have passed into Germany.
+
+The region between the Hercynian forest and the rivers Maine and Rhine
+was occupied by the Helvetians, as was that beyond it by the Boians,
+both Gallic tribes. The Treveri and Nervii fervently aspire to the
+reputation of descent from the Germans, and the Vangiones, Triboci, and
+Nemetes, all dwelling by the Rhine, are certainly all Germans. The Ubii
+are ashamed of their origin and delight to be called Agrippinenses,
+after the name of the founder of the Roman colony which they were
+judged worthy of being constituted.
+
+The Batavi are the bravest of all these nations. They inhabit a little
+territory by the Rhine, but possess an island on it. Becoming willingly
+part of the Roman empire, they are free from all impositions and pay no
+tribute, but are reserved wholly for wars, precisely like a magazine of
+weapons and armour. In the same position are the Mattiaci, living on
+the opposite banks and enjoying a settlement and limits of their own,
+while they are in spirit and inclination attached to us.
+
+Beginning at the Hercynian forest are the Catti, a robust and vigorous
+people, possessed also of much sense and ability. They are not only
+singularly brave, but are more skilled in the true art of war than
+other Germans.
+
+Near the Catti were formerly dwelling the Bructeri, in whose stead are
+now settled the Chamani and the Angrivarii, by whom the Bructeri were
+expelled and almost exterminated, to the benefit of us Romans. May the
+gods perpetuate among these nations their mutual hatred, since fortune
+befriends our empire by sowing strife amongst our foes!
+
+The country of the Frisii, facing that of the Angrivarii and the
+Chamani, is divided into two sections, called the greater and the
+lesser, which both extend along the Rhine to the ocean.
+
+Hitherto I have been describing Germany towards the west. Northward it
+stretches with an immense compass. The great tribe of the Chauci occupy
+the whole region between the districts of the Frisii and of the Catti.
+These Chauci are the noblest people of all the Germans. They prefer to
+maintain their greatness by justice rather than by violence, seeking to
+live in tranquillity, and to avoid quarrels with others.
+
+By the side of the Chauci and the Catti dwell the Cherusci, a people
+who have degenerated in both influence and character. Finding no
+enemy to stimulate them, they were enfeebled by too lasting a peace,
+and whereas they were formerly styled good and upright, they are now
+called cowards and fools, having been subdued by the Catti. In the same
+winding tract live the Cimbri, close to the sea, a tribe now small in
+numbers but great in fame for many monuments of their old renown. It
+was in the 610th year of Rome, Caecilius Metellus and Papirius Carbo
+being consuls, that the first mention was made of the arms of the
+Cimbri. From that date to the second consulship of the Emperor Trajan
+comprehends an interval of nearly 210 years; so long a period has our
+conquest of Germany occupied. In so great an interval many have been
+the disasters on both sides.
+
+Indeed, not from the Samnites, or from the Carthaginians, or from the
+people of Spain, or from all the tribes of Gaul, or even from the
+Parthians, have we received more checks or encountered more alarms. For
+the passion of the Germans for liberty is more indomitable than that of
+the Arsacidae. What has the power of the East to lay to our dishonour?
+But the overthrow and abasement of Crassus, and the loss by the Romans
+of five great armies, all commanded by consuls, have to be laid to the
+account of the Germans. By the Germans, also, even the Emperor Augustus
+was deprived of Varus and three legions.
+
+Only with great difficulty and the loss of many men were the Germans
+defeated by Caius Marius in Italy, or by the deified Julius Caesar
+in Gaul, or by Drusus, or Tiberius, or Germanicus in their native
+territories. And next, the strenuous menaces of Caligula against these
+foes ended in mockery and ridicule. Afterwards, for a season they were
+quiet, till, tempted to take advantage of our domestic schisms and
+civil wars, they stormed and seized the winter entrenchments of our
+legions, and attempted the conquest of Gaul. Though they were once more
+repulsed, our success was rather a triumph than an overwhelming victory.
+
+
+_V.--The Great Nation of the Suevi_
+
+Next I must refer to the Suevi, who are not, like the Catti, a
+homogeneous people, but are divided into several tribes, all bearing
+distinct names, although they likewise are called by the generic title
+of Suevi. They occupy the larger part of Germany. From other Germans
+they are distinguished by their peculiar fashion of twisting their
+hair into a knot, this also marking the difference between the freemen
+and their slaves. Of all the tribes of the Suevi, the Semnones esteem
+themselves to be the most ancient and the noblest, their faith in
+their antiquity being confirmed by the mysteries of their religion.
+Annually in a sacred grove the deputies of each family clan assemble to
+repeat the rites practised by their ancestors. The horrible ceremonies
+commence with the sacrifice of a man. Their tradition is that at this
+spot the nation originated, and that here the supreme deity resides.
+The Semnones inhabit a hundred towns, and by their superior numbers and
+authority dominate the rest of the Suevi.
+
+On the contrary, the Langobardi are ennobled by the paucity of their
+number, for, though surrounded by powerful tribes, they assert
+their superiority by their valour and skill instead of displaying
+obsequiousness. Next come the Reudigni, the Aviones, the Angli, the
+Varini, the Eudoses, the Suardones and the Nuithones, all defended by
+rivers or forests.
+
+These are marked by no special characteristics, excepting the common
+worship of the goddess Nerthum, or Mother Earth, of whom they believe
+that she not only intervenes in human affairs, but also visits the
+nations. In a certain island of the sea is a wood called Castum. Here
+is kept a chariot sacred to the goddess, covered with a curtain, and
+permitted to be touched only by her priest, who perceives her whenever
+she enters the holy vehicle, and with deepest veneration attends the
+motion of the chariot, which is always drawn by yoked cows. Till the
+same priests re-conducts the goddess to her shrine, after she has grown
+weary of intercourse with mortals, feasts and games are held with great
+rejoicings, no arms are touched, and none go to war. Slaves wash the
+chariot and curtains in a sacred lake, and, if you will believe it, the
+goddess herself; and forthwith these unfortunate beings are doomed to
+be swallowed up in the same lake.
+
+This portion of the Suevian territory stretches to the centre of
+Germany. Next adjoining is the district of the Hermunduri (I am now
+following the course of the Danube as I previously did that of the
+Rhine), a tribe faithful to the Romans. To them, accordingly, alone
+of all the Germans, is commerce permitted. They travel everywhere at
+their own discretion. When to others we show nothing more than our arms
+and our encampments, to this people we open our houses, as to men who
+are not longing to possess them. The Elbe rises in the territory of the
+Hermunduri.
+
+
+_VI.--The Tribes of the Frontier_
+
+Near the Hermunduri reside the Narisci, and next the Marcomanni and
+the Quadi, the former being the more famed for strength and bravery,
+for it was by force that they acquired their location, expelling from
+it the Boii. Now, here is, as it were, the frontier of Germany, as far
+as it is washed by the Danube. Not less powerful are several tribes
+whose territories enclose the lands of those just named--the Marsigni,
+the Gothini, the Osi, and the Burii. The Marsigni in speech and dress
+resemble the Suevi; but as the Gothini speak Gallic, and the Osi the
+Pannonian language, and as they endure the imposition of tribute, it is
+manifest that neither of these peoples are Germans.
+
+Upon them, as aliens, tribute is imposed, partly by the Sarmatae, partly
+by the Quadi, and, to deepen their disgrace, the Gothini are forced
+to labour in the iron mines. Little level country is possessed by all
+these several tribes, for they are located among mountainous forest
+regions, Suevia being parted by a continuous range of mountains, beyond
+which live many nations. Of these, the most numerous and widely spread
+are the Lygii. Among others, the most powerful are the Arii, the
+Helveconae, the Manimi, the Elysii, and the Naharvali.
+
+The Arii are the most numerous, and also the fiercest of the tribes
+just enumerated. They carry black shields, paint their bodies black,
+and choose dark nights for engaging in battle. The ghastly aspect of
+their army strikes terror into their foes, for in all battles the
+eyes are vanquished first. Beyond the Lygii dwell the Gothones, ruled
+by a king, and thus held in stricter subjection than the other German
+tribes, yet not so that their liberties are extinguished. Immediately
+adjacent are the Rugii and the Lemovii, dwelling by the coast. The
+characteristic of both is the use of a round shield and a short sword.
+
+Next are the Suiones, a seafaring community with very powerful fleets.
+The ships differ in form from ours in possessing prows at each end,
+so as to be always ready to row to shore without turning. They are
+not propelled by sails, and have no benches of oars at the sides. The
+rowers ply in all parts of the ship alike, and change their oars from
+place to place according as the course is shifted hither and thither.
+Great homage is paid among them to wealth; they are governed by a
+single chief, who exacts implicit obedience. Arms are not used by these
+people indiscriminately, as by other German tribes. Weapons are shut up
+under the care of a slave. The reason is that the ocean always protects
+the Suiones from their foes, and also that armed bands, when not
+employed, grow easily demoralised.
+
+Beyond the Suiones is another sea, dense and calm. It is thought that
+by this the whole globe is bounded, for the reflection of the sun,
+after his setting, continues till he rises, and that so radiantly as to
+obscure the stars. Popular opinion even adds that the tumult is heard
+of his emerging from the ocean, and that at sunrise forms divine are
+seen, and also the rays about his head. Only thus far extend the limits
+of Nature, if what fame reports be true.
+
+The AEstii reside on the right of the Suevian Sea. Their dress and
+customs resemble those of the Suevi, but the language is akin to that
+of Britain. They worship the Mother of gods, and wear images of boars,
+without any weapons, superstitiously trusting the goddess and the
+images to safeguard them. But they cultivate the soil with much greater
+zeal than is usual with Germans, and they even search the ocean, and
+are the only people who gather amber, which they find in the shallows
+and along the shore. It lay long neglected till it gained value from
+our luxury.
+
+Bordering on the Suiones are the Sitones, agreeing with them in all
+things excepting that they are governed by a woman. So emphatically
+have they degenerated, not merely from liberty, but even below a
+condition of bondage. Here end the territories of the Suevi. Whether
+I ought to include the Peucini, the Venedi, and the Fenni among the
+Sarmatae or the Germani I cannot determine, although the Peucini speak
+the same language with the Germani, dress, build, and live like them,
+and resemble them in dirt and sloth.
+
+What further accounts we have are fabulous, and these I leave
+untouched.
+
+
+
+
+HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE
+
+History of English Literature
+
+  Two years before the appearance of his "Histoire de la
+  Litterature Anglaise" Taine had aroused a lively interest in
+  England by his "Notes sur l'Angleterre," a work showing much
+  wayward sympathy for the English character, and an irregular
+  understanding of English institutions. The same mixed impression
+  was produced by the laboriously conceived and brilliantly
+  written "History of English Literature." Taine (see Vol. XXIV,
+  p. 177) wrote to a theory that often worked out into curious
+  contradictions. His method was to show how men have been shaped
+  by the environments and tendencies of their age. Unfortunately,
+  having formed an idea of the kind of literature our age should
+  produce according to his theory, he had eyes for nothing
+  except what he expected to find. He went to literature for his
+  confirmations of his reading of history. Taine's criticism,
+  in consequence, is often incomplete, and more piquant than
+  trustworthy. The failure to appreciate some of the great English
+  writers--notably Shakespeare and Milton--is patent. Still, the
+  critic always had the will to be just, and no foreigner has
+  devoted such complimentary labour to the formation of a complete
+  estimate of English literature. The book was published in 1863-4.
+
+
+_Saxon and Norman_
+
+History has been revolutionised by the study of literatures. A work
+of literature is now perceived, not to be a solitary caprice, but a
+transcript of contemporary manners, from which we may read the style
+of man's feelings for centuries back. By the study of a literature,
+one may construct a moral history, the psychology of a people. To find
+a complete literature is rare. Only ancient Greece, and modern France
+and England offer a complete series of great literary monuments. I
+have chosen England because it is alive, and one can see it with more
+detachment than one can see France.
+
+Huge white bodies, cool-blooded, with fierce blue eyes, reddish flaxen
+hair; ravenous stomachs filled with meat and cheese and heated by
+strong drinks; a cold temperament, slow to love, home-staying, prone
+to drunkenness--these are to this day the features which descent
+and climate preserve to the English race. The heavy human brute
+gluts himself with sensations and noise, and this appetite finds a
+grazing-ground in blows and battle. Strife for strife's sake such is
+their pleasure. A race so constituted was predisposed to Christianity
+by its gloom, and beyond Christianity foreign culture could not graft
+any fruitful branch on this barbarous stock. The Norman conquerors of
+France had by intermarriage become a Latin race, and nimbly educated
+themselves from the Gauls, who boasted of "talking with ease." When
+they crossed to England, they introduced new manners and a new spirit.
+They taught the Saxon how ideas fall in order, and which ideas are
+agreeable; they taught him how to be clear, amusing, and pungent. At
+length, after long impotence of Norman literature, which was content to
+copy, and of Saxon literature, which bore no fruit, a definite language
+was attained, and there was room for a great writer.
+
+
+_Chaucer_
+
+Then Geoffrey Chaucer appeared, inventive though a disciple, original
+though a translator, and by his genius, education, and life was
+enabled to know and depict a whole world, but above all to satisfy the
+chivalric world and the splendid courts which shone upon the heights.
+He belonged to it, and took such part in it that his life from end to
+end was that of a man of the world and a man of action.
+
+Two motives raised the middle age above the chaos of barbarism, one
+religious, which fashioned the gigantic cathedrals, the other secular,
+which built the feudal fortresses. The one produced the adventurous
+hero, the other the mystical monk. These master-passions gave way at
+last to monotony of habit and taste for worldliness. Something was then
+needed to make the evening hours flow sweetly. The lords at table have
+finished dinner; the poet arrives; they ask him for his subject, and he
+answers "Love."
+
+There is something more pleasant than a fine narrative, and that is a
+collection of fine narratives, especially when the narratives are all
+of different colouring. This collection Chaucer gave us, and more. If
+over-excited, he is always graceful, polished, full of light banter,
+half-mockeries, somewhat gossipy. An elegant speaker, facile, every
+ready to smile, he makes of love not a passion but a gay feast. But if
+he was romantic and gay after the fashion of his age, he also had a
+fashion of his own. He observes characters, notes their differences,
+studies the coherence of their parts, brings forward living and
+distinct persons--a thing unheard of in his time. It is the English
+positive good sense and aptitude for seeing the inside of things
+beginning to appear. Chaucer ceases to gossip, and thinks. Each tale is
+suited to the teller. Instead of surrendering himself to the facility
+of glowing improvisation, he plans. All his tales are bound together by
+veritable incidents which spring from the characters of the personages,
+and are such as we light upon in our travels. He advanced beyond the
+threshold of his art, but he paused in the vestibule. He half-opens
+the door of the temple, but does not take his seat there; at most he
+sat down at intervals. His voice is like that of a boy breaking into
+manhood. He sets out as if to quit the middle ages; but in the end he
+is still there.
+
+
+_The Renaissance_
+
+For seventeen centuries a deep and sad thought had weighed upon
+the spirit of man--the idea of his impotence and decadence. Greek
+corruption, Roman oppression, and the dissolution of the old world had
+given it birth; it, in its turn, had produced a stoical resignation,
+an epicurean indifference, Alexandrian mysticism, and the Christian
+hope in the Kingdom of God. At last invention makes another start. All
+was renewed, America and the Indies were added to the map. The system
+of the universe was propounded, the experimental sciences were set
+on foot, art and literature shot forth like a harvest, and religion
+was transformed. It seems as though men had suddenly opened their
+eyes and seen. They attained a new and superior kind of intelligence
+which produced extraordinary warmth of soul, a super-abundant and
+splendid imagination, reveries, visions, artists, believers, founders,
+creators. This was Europe's grand age, and the most notable epoch
+of human growth. To this day we live from its sap. To vent the
+feelings, to set free boldly on all the roads of existence the pack
+of appetites and instincts, this was the craving which the manners of
+the time betrayed. It was "merry England," as they called it then.
+It was not yet stern and constrained. It extended widely, freely,
+and rejoiced to find itself so expanded. A few sectarians, chiefly
+in the towns, clung gloomily to the Bible; but the Court, and the
+men of the world sought their teachers and their heroes from Pagan
+Greece and Rome. Nearer still was another Paganism, that of Italy,
+and civilisation was drawn thence as from a spring. Transplanted into
+different races and climates, this paganism received from each a
+distinct character--in England it becomes English. Here Surrey--the
+English Petrarch--introduced a new style, a manly style, which marks
+a great transformation of the mind. He looks forward to the last line
+while writing the first, and keeps the strongest word for the last.
+He collects his phrases in harmonious periods, and by his inversions
+adds force to his ideas. Every epithet contains an idea, every metaphor
+a sentiment. Those who have ideas now possess in the new-born art an
+instrument capable of expressing them. In half a century English
+writers had introduced every artifice of language, period, and style.
+
+Luxuriance and irregularity were the two features of the new
+literature. Sir Philip Sydney may be selected as exhibiting the
+greatness and the folly of the prevailing taste. How can his pastoral
+epic, "The Arcadia," be described? It is but a recreation, a poetical
+romance written in the country for the amusement of a sister, a work
+of fashion, a relic, but it shows the best of the general spirit,
+the jargon of the world of culture, fantastic imagination, excessive
+sentiment, a medley of events which suited men scarcely recovered from
+barbarism. At his period men's heads were full of tragical images,
+and Sydney's "Arcadia" contains enough of them to supply half a dozen
+epics. And Sydney was only a soldier in an army; there is a multitude
+about him, a multitude of poets. How happens it that when this
+generation was exhausted true poetry ended in England as true painting
+in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the mind came and
+passed away. These men had new ideas and no theories in their heads.
+Their emotions were not the same as ours. For them all things had a
+soul, and though they had no more beauty then than now, men found them
+more beautiful.
+
+
+_Spenser_
+
+Among all the poems of this time there is one truly divine--Spenser's
+"Faerie Queene." Everything in his life was calculated to lead Spenser
+to ideal poetry; but the heart within is the true poet. Before all,
+his was a soul captivated by sublime and chaste beauty. Philosophy and
+landscapes, ceremonies and ornaments, splendours of the country and
+the court, on all which he painted or thought he impressed his inward
+nobleness. Spenser remains calm in the fervour of invention. He is
+epic, that is, a narrator. No modern is more like Homer. Like Homer,
+he is always simple and clear; he makes no leap, he omits no argument,
+he preserves the natural sequence of ideas while presenting noble
+classical images. Like Homer, again, he is redundant, ingenuous: even
+childish. He says everything, and repeats without limit his ornamental
+epithets.
+
+To expand in epic faculties in the region where his soul is naturally
+borne, he requires an ideal stage, situated beyond the bounds of
+reality, in a world which could never be. His most genuine sentiments
+are fairy-like. Magic is the mould of his mind. He carries everything
+that he looks upon into an enchanted land. Only the world of chivalry
+could have furnished materials for so elevated a fancy. It is the
+beauty in the poet's heart which his whole works try to express, a
+noble yet laughing beauty, English in sentiment, Italian in externals,
+chivalric in subject, representing a unique epoch, the appearance of
+Paganism in a Christian race, and the worship of form by an imagination
+of the North.
+
+Among the prose writers of the Pagan renaissance, two may be singled
+out as characteristic, namely, Robert Burton--an ecclesiastic and
+university recluse who dabbled in all the sciences, was gifted with
+enthusiasm and spasmodically gay, but as a rule sad and morose, and
+according to circumstances a poet, an eccentric, a humorist, a madman,
+or a Puritan--and Francis Bacon, the most comprehensive, sensible,
+originative mind of the age; a great and luminous intellect. After more
+than two centuries it is still to Bacon that we go to discover the
+theory of what we are attempting and doing.
+
+
+_The Theatre_
+
+The theatre was a special product of the English Renaissance. If ever
+there was a living and natural work, it is here. There were already
+seven theatres in Shakespeare's time, so great and universal was the
+taste for representations. The inborn instincts of the people had not
+been tamed, nor muzzled, nor diminished. We hear from the stage as from
+the history of the times, the fierce murmur of all the passions. Not
+one of them was lacking. The poets who established the drama, carried
+in themselves the sentiments which the drama represents. Greene,
+Marlowe, and the rest, were ill-regulated, passionate, outrageously
+vehement and audacious. The drama is found in Marlowe as the plant in
+the seed, and Marlowe was a primitive man, the slave of his passions,
+the sport of his dreams. Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Jonson,
+Webster, Massinger, Ford, appear close upon each other, a new and
+favoured generation, flourishing in the soil fertilised by the efforts
+of the generation which preceded them. The characters they produced
+were such as either excite terror by their violence, or pity by their
+grace. Passion ravages all around when their tragic figures are on the
+stage; and contrasted with them is a troop of sweet and timid figures,
+tender before everything, and the most loveworthy it has been given to
+man to depict. The men are warlike, imperious, unpolished; the women
+have sweetness, devotion, patience, inextinguishable affection--a thing
+unknown in distant lands, and in France especially. With these women
+love becomes almost a holy thing. They aim not at pleasure but at
+devotion. When a new civilisation brings a new art to light there are
+about a dozen men of talent who express the general idea surrounding
+one or two men of genius who express it thoroughly. The first
+constitute the chorus, the others the leaders. The leaders in this
+movement are Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.
+
+Ben Jonson was a genuine Englishman, big and coarsely framed,
+combative, proud, often morose, prone to strain splenitic imaginations.
+His knowledge was vast. In an age of great scholars he is one of
+the best classics of his time. Other poets for the most part are
+visionaries; Jonson is all but a logician. Whatever he undertakes,
+whatever be his faults, haughtiness, rough-handling, predilection
+for morality and the past, he is never little or commonplace. Nearly
+all his work consists of comedies, not sentimental and fanciful as
+Shakespeare's, but satirical, written to represent and correct follies
+and vices. Even when he grew old his imagination remained abundant and
+fresh. He is the brother of Shakespeare.
+
+
+_Shakespeare_
+
+Only this great age could have cradled such a child as Shakespeare.
+What soul! What extent of action, and what sovereignty of an unique
+faculty! What diverse creations, and what persistence of the same
+impress! Look now. Do you not see the poet behind the crowd of his
+creations? They have all shown somewhat of him. Ready, impetuous,
+impassioned, delicate, his genius is pure imagination, touched
+more vividly and by slighter things than ours. Hence, his style,
+blooming with exuberant images, loaded with exaggerated metaphors. An
+extraordinary species of mind, all-powerful, excessive, equally master
+of the sublime and the base, the most creative that ever engaged in the
+exact copy of the details of actual existence, in the dazzling caprice
+of fancy, in the profound complications of superhuman passions; a
+nature inspired, superior to reason, extreme in joy and pain, abrupt of
+gait, stormy and impetuous in its transports!
+
+Shakespeare images with copiousness and excess; he spreads metaphors
+profusely over all he writes; it is a series of painting which is
+unfolded in his mind, picture on picture, image on image, he is forever
+copying the strange and splendid visions which are heaped up within
+him. Such an imagination must needs be vehement. Every metaphor is a
+convulsion. Shakespeare's style is a compound of curious impressions.
+He never sees things tranquilly. Like a fiery and powerful horse, he
+bounds but cannot run. He flies, we creep. He is obscure and original
+beyond all the poets of his or any other age--the most immoderate of
+all violaters of language, the most marvellous of all creators of
+souls. The critic is lost in Shakespeare as in an immense town. He can
+only describe a few monuments and entreat the reader to imagine the
+city.
+
+
+_The Christian Renaissance_
+
+Following the pagan came the Christian Renaissance born of the
+Reformation, a new birth in harmony with the genius of the Germanic
+peoples. It must be admitted that the Reformation entered England by a
+side door. It was established when Henry VIII. permitted the English
+Bible to be published. England had her book. Hence have sprung much
+of the English language and half of the English manners; to this day
+the country is Biblical. After the Bible the book most widely-read
+in England is the Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. It is a manual
+of devotion for the use of simple folk. In it we hear a man of the
+people speaking to the people, who would render intelligible to all
+the terrible doctrine of damnation and salvation. Allegory is natural
+to Bunyan. He employs it from necessity. He only grasps truth when
+it is made simple by images. His work is allegorical, that it may
+be intelligible. Bunyan is a poet because he is a child. He has the
+freedom, the tone, the ease, the clearness of Homer; he is as close
+to Homer as an Anabaptist tinker could be to a heroic singer. He and
+Milton survived as the two last poets of the Reformation, oppressed
+and insulted, but their work continues without noise, for the ideal
+they raised was, after all, that which the time suggested and the race
+demanded.
+
+
+_Milton_
+
+John Milton was not one of those fevered souls whose rapture takes them
+by fits, and whose inquietude condemns them to paint the contradictions
+of passion. His mind was lucid, his imagination limited. He does not
+create souls but constructs arguments. Emotions and arguments are
+arranged beneath a unique sentiment, that of the sublime, and the broad
+river of lyric poetry streams from him with even flow, splendid as a
+cloth of gold.
+
+Against external fluctuations he found a refuge in himself; and the
+ideal city which he had built in his soul endured impregnable to all
+assaults. He believed in the sublime with the whole force of his
+nature, and the whole authority of his logic. When after a generous
+education he returned from his travels he threw himself into the strife
+of the times heartily, armed with logic, indignation and learning,
+and protected by conviction and conscience. I have before me the
+formidable volume in which his prose works were collected. What a book!
+The chairs creak when you place it upon them. How we cannot fix our
+attention on the same point for a page at a time. We require manageable
+ideas; we have disused the big two-handed sword of our forefathers.
+If Michael Angelo's prophets could speak, it would be in Milton's
+style. Overloaded with ornaments, infinitely prolonged, these periods
+are triumphant choruses of angelic Alleluias sung by deep voices to
+the accompaniment of ten thousand harps of gold. But is he truly a
+prose-writer? Entangled dialectics, a heavy and awkward mind, fanatical
+and ferocious provincialism, the blast and temerities of implacable
+passion, the sublimity of religious and lyric exaltation--we do not
+recognize in these features a man born to explain, persuade, and prove.
+
+As a poet Milton wrote not by impulse but like a man of letters with
+the assistance of books, seeing objects as much through previous
+writings as in themselves, adding to his images the images of others,
+borrowing and recasting their inventions. He made thus for himself
+a composite and brilliant style, less natural than that of his
+precursors, less fit for effusions, less akin to the lively first
+glow of sensation, but more solid, more regular, more capable of
+concentrating in one large patch of light all their sparklings and
+splendours. He compacted and ennobled the poets' domain.
+
+When, however, after seventeen years of fighting and misfortune had
+steeped his soul in religious ideas, mythology yielded to theology,
+the habit of discussion subdued the lyric light. The poet no longer
+sings sublime verse, he harangues in grave verse, he gives us correct
+solemn discourses. Adam and Eve the first pair! I listen and hear two
+reasoners of the period--Colonel Hutchinson and his wife. Heavens!
+dress them at once. Folks so cultivated should have invented before all
+a pair of trousers and modesty. This Adam enters Paradise via England.
+There he learnt respectability and moral speechifying. Adam was your
+true _pater familias_ with a vote, an old Oxford man, consulted at
+need by his wife, and dealing out to her with prudent measure the
+scientific explanations which she requires. The flow of dissertations
+never pauses. From Paradise it gets into Heaven. Milton's Jehovah is a
+grave king who maintains a suitable state something like Charles I. The
+finest thing in connection with Paradise is Hell; and in this history
+of God, the chief part is taken by the devil. No poetic creation equals
+in horror and grandeur the spectacle that greeted Satan on leaving his
+dungeon.
+
+But what a heaven! One would rather enter Charles I's troops of
+lackeys, or Cromwell's Ironsides. What a gap between this monarchical
+frippery and the visions of Dante! To the poet of the Apocalypse the
+voice of the deity was "as the sound of many waters; and he had in
+his right hand seven stars; and his countenance was as the sun shining
+in his strength; and when I saw him I fell at his feet as dead." When
+Milton arranged his celestial show, he did not fall at his feet as dead.
+
+When we take in, in one view, the vast literary region of England,
+extending from the restoration of the Stuarts to the French Revolution,
+we perceive that all the productions bear a classical impress, such as
+is met with neither in the preceding nor in the succeeding time. This
+classical art finds its centre in the labours of Pope, and above all in
+Pope, whose favourite author is Dryden, of all English poets the least
+inspired and the most classical. Pope gave himself up to versification.
+He did not write because he thought, but he thought in order to write.
+I wish I could admire his works of imagination, but I cannot. I know
+the machinery. There is, however, a poet in Pope, and to discover
+him we have only to read him in fragments. Each verse in Pope is a
+masterpiece if taken alone. There is a classical architecture of ideas,
+and of all the masters who have practised it in England Pope is the
+most skilled.
+
+
+_The Modern Spirit_
+
+The spirit of the modern revolution broke out first in a Scotch
+peasant, Robert Burns. Scarcely ever was seen together more of misery
+and talent. Burns cries out in favour of instinct and joy. Love was his
+main business. In him for the first time a poet spoke as men speak, or,
+rather, as they think, without premeditation, with a mixture of all
+styles. Burns was much in advance of his age, and the life of men in
+advance of their age is not wholesome. He died worn out at 37. In him
+old narrow moralities give place to the wide sympathy of the modern man.
+
+Now appeared the English romantic school. Among the multitude of its
+writers we may distinguish Southey, a clever man, a producer of
+decorative poems to suit the fashion; Coleridge, a poor fellow who had
+steeped himself in mystical theories; Thomas More, a witty railer; and
+Walter Scott, the favourite of his age, who was read over the whole
+of Europe, was almost equal to Shakespeare, had more popularity than
+Voltaire, earned about L200,000, and taught us all history. Scott gave
+to Scotland a citizenship of literature. Scott loves men from the
+bottom of his heart. By his fundamental honesty and wide humanity he
+was the Homer of modern life.
+
+When the philosophical spirit passed from Germany to England,
+transformed itself and became Anglican, deformed itself and became
+revolutionary, it produced a Wordsworth, a Byron, a Shelley.
+Wordsworth, a new Cowper, with less talent and more ideas, was
+essentially an interior man, engrossed by the concerns of the soul. To
+such men life becomes a grave business on which we must incessantly and
+scrupulously reflect. Wordsworth was a wise and happy man, a thinker
+and dreamer, who read and walked and listened in deep calm to his own
+thoughts. The peace was so great within him and around him that he
+could perceive the imperceptible. He saw grandeur and beauty in the
+trivial events which weave the woof of our most commonplace days.
+His "Excursion" is like a Protestant temple--august though bare and
+monstrous.
+
+Shelley, one of the greatest poets of the age, beautiful as an angel,
+of extraordinary precocity, sweet, generous, tender, overflowing
+with gifts of heart, mind, birth, and fortune, marred his life by
+introducing into his conduct the enthusiastic imagination he should
+have kept for his verse. His world is beyond our own. We move in it
+between heaven and earth, in abstraction, dreamland, symbolism. Shelley
+loved desert and solitary places, where man enjoys the pleasure of
+believing infinite what he sees--infinite as his soul. Verily there
+is a soul in everything; in the universe is a soul; even beyond the
+sensible form shines a secret essence and something divine which we
+catch sight of by sublime illuminations, never reaching or penetrating
+it. The poets hear the great heart of nature beat; they would reach it.
+One alone, Byron, succeeds.
+
+I have reserved for the last the greatest and most English artist, from
+whom we may learn more truths of his country and of his age than from
+all the rest. All styles appear dull, and all souls sluggish by the
+side of Byron's. No such great poet has had so narrow an imagination.
+They are his own sorrows, his own revolts, his own travels, which,
+hardly transformed and modified, he introduces into his verses. He
+never could make a poem save of his own heart. If Goethe was the poet
+of the universe, Byron was the poet of the individual; and if the
+German genius found its interpretation in the one, the English genius
+found its interpretation in the other.
+
+
+
+
+HENRY DAVID THOREAU
+
+"Walden"
+
+  Henry David Thoreau, America's poet-naturalist, as he might
+  be called, was born at Concord, Mass., on July 12, 1817. His
+  great-grandparents were natives of the Channel Islands, whence
+  his grandfather emigrated. Thoreau was educated at Hartford, and
+  began work as a teacher, but under the influence of Emerson, in
+  whose house he lived at intervals, made writing his hobby and a
+  study of the outdoor world his occupation. In 1845, as related
+  in "Walden," he built himself a shanty near Walden Pond, on land
+  belonging to Emerson. There he busied himself with writing his
+  "Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers," and in recording his
+  observations in the woods. After the Walden experiment he mingled
+  the pursuit of literature and the doing of odd jobs for a living.
+  His books, "The Maine Woods," "A Yankee in Canada," "Excursions
+  in Field and Wood," were mostly published after his death. He
+  died on May 6, 1862, from consumption. Emerson, Hawthorne, and
+  Alcott were his warm friends in life, and helped the world
+  to appreciate his genius. A poet in heart, Thoreau was only
+  successful in giving his poetry a prose setting, but that setting
+  is harmonised with the utmost delicacy. No one has produced more
+  beautiful effects in English prose with simpler words.
+
+
+_The Simple Life_
+
+When I wrote the following pages, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile
+from any neighbour, in a house I had built for myself, on the shore of
+Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the
+labour of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At
+present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.
+
+Men labour under a mistake. By a seeming fate, commonly called
+necessity, they are employed laying up treasures which moth and rust
+will corrupt. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to
+the end of it if not before.
+
+But it is never too late to give up our prejudices. What old people say
+you cannot do, you try and find that you can. I have lived some thirty
+years and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable advice from
+my seniors.
+
+To many creatures, there is but one necessity of life--food. None of
+the brute creation require more than food and shelter. The necessaries
+of life for man in this climate may be distributed under the several
+heads of food, shelter, clothing, and fuel. I find by my own experience
+a few implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow, etc., and
+for the studious, lamplight, stationery, and access to a few books,
+rank next to necessaries, and can all be obtained at a trifling cost.
+Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life,
+are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind. None can be an
+impartial or wise observer of human life but from the vantage ground of
+voluntary poverty.
+
+
+_Ideals_
+
+If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend my life in
+years past it would probably astonish those who know nothing about it.
+
+I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle dove, and am still
+on their trail. Many are the travellers I have spoken, concerning them,
+describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one
+or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even
+seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to
+recover them as if they had lost them themselves.
+
+How many mornings, summer and winter, before any neighbour was stirring
+about his business, have I been about mine! So many autumn, aye, and
+winter days, spent outside the town trying to hear what was in the
+wind, to hear and carry it. At other times waiting at evening on the
+hill-tops for the sky to fall that I might catch something, though I
+never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again in the
+sun.
+
+For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain
+storms, and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then
+of forest paths. I looked after the wild stock of the town. I have
+watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the
+red pine and the black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet,
+which might have withered else in dry seasons.
+
+My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not to live cheaply nor to live
+dearly there, but to transact some private business with the fewest
+obstacles.
+
+
+_House Building_
+
+When I consider my neighbours, the farmers of Concord, I find that for
+the most part they have been toiling twenty, thirty, or forty years,
+that they may become the real owners of their farms; and we may regard
+one-third of that toil as the cost of their houses. And when the farmer
+has got his house he may not be the richer but the poorer for it, and
+it be the house that has got him. The very simplicity and nakedness
+of men's life in the primitive ages imply that they left him still
+a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep he
+contemplated his journey again. He dwelt as it were in the tent of this
+world. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on
+earth and forgotten Heaven.
+
+Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the
+woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house,
+and began to cut down some tall, arrowy, white pines, still in their
+youth, for timber. It was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered
+with pine woods, through which I looked out on the pond, and a small
+open field in the woods where pines and hickories were springing up.
+Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree,
+having become better acquainted with it.
+
+By the middle of April my house was framed and ready for raising.
+At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of
+my acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for
+neighbourliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my
+house. I began to occupy it on the 4th of July, as soon as it was
+boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully feather-edged and
+lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain, but before
+boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney. I built the chimney after
+my hoeing in the fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing
+my cooking in the meantime out of doors on the ground, early in the
+morning. When it stormed before my bread was baked I fixed a few boards
+over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and passed some
+pleasant hours in that way.
+
+The exact cost of my house, not counting the work, all of which was
+done by myself, was just over twenty-eight dollars. I thus found that
+the student who wishes for a shelter can obtain one for a lifetime at
+an expense not greater than the rent which he now pays annually.
+
+
+_Farming_
+
+Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by
+some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual expenses,
+I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil near it,
+chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn, peas,
+and turnips. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the ploughing,
+though I held the plough myself. My farm outgoes for the first season
+were, for employment, seed, work, etc., 14 dollars 72-1/2 cents. I got
+twelve bushels of beans and eighteen bushels of potatoes, besides some
+peas and sweet corn. My whole income from the farm was 23 dollars 43
+cents, a profit of 8 dollars 71-1/2 cents, besides produce consumed.
+
+The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land that I
+required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience
+of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on
+husbandry, that if one would live simply and eat only the crop which he
+raised, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of ground, and that
+it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen to plough it, and
+he could do all his necessary farm work, as it were, with his left hand
+at odd hours in the summer.
+
+My food for nearly two years was rye and Indian meal without yeast,
+potatoes, rice, a very little salt pork, molasses and salt, and my
+drink water. I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost
+incredibly little trouble to obtain one's necessary food even in this
+latitude, and that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals and
+yet retain health and strength.
+
+Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes,
+which I baked before my fire out of doors, but at last I found a
+mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. I made a
+study of the ancient and indispensable art of bread-making, going back
+to the primitive days. Leaven, which some deem to be the soul of bread,
+I discovered was not indispensable.
+
+Thus I found I could avoid all trade and barter, so far as my food was
+concerned, and having a shelter already, it would only remain to get
+clothing and fuel. My furniture, part of which I made myself, consisted
+of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a looking-glass, three inches
+in diameter, a pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle, a skillet, and a
+frying pan, a dipper, a wash bowl, two knives and forks, three plates,
+one cup, one spoon, a jug for oil, a jug for molasses, and a japanned
+lamp. When I have met an immigrant tottering under a bundle which
+contained his all, I have pitied him, not because it was his all, but
+because he had all that to carry.
+
+
+_Earning a Living_
+
+For more than five years I maintained myself solely by the labour of
+my hands, and I found that by working for about six weeks in the year
+I could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as
+well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have
+thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were out of
+proportion to my income, for I was obliged to dress and train, not to
+say think and believe accordingly; and I lost my time into the bargain.
+I have tried trade; but I have learned that trade curses everything
+it handles; and though you trade in messages from Heaven, the whole
+curse of trade attaches to the business. I found that the occupation of
+day-labourer was the most independent of any, especially as it required
+only thirty or forty days in the year to support me. The labourer's
+day ends with the going down of the sun, and he is then free to devote
+himself to his chosen pursuit, independent of his labour; but his
+employer, who speculates from month to month, has no respite from one
+end of the year to the other.
+
+But all this is very selfish, I have heard some of my townsmen say.
+I confess that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic
+enterprises. However, when I thought to indulge myself in this respect
+by maintaining certain poor persons as comfortably as I maintain
+myself, and even ventured so far as to make them the offer, they one
+and all unhesitatingly preferred to remain poor.
+
+
+_The Life with Nature_
+
+When I took up my abode in the woods I found myself suddenly neighbour
+to the birds, not by having imprisoned one, but having caged myself
+near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly
+frequent the garden and orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling
+songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager.
+
+Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal
+simplicity, and I may say, innocence, with Nature herself. I have been
+as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks. Morning brings back
+the heroic ages. Then, for an hour at least, some part of us awakes
+which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.
+
+Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? As for work, we
+haven't any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus' dance, and
+cannot possibly keep our heads still. Hardly a man takes a half hour's
+nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks:
+"What's the news?" as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels.
+"Pray tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on this
+globe." And he reads over his coffee and rolls that a man has had his
+eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River, never dreaming the
+while that he lives in the dark, unfathomed mammoth cave of this world,
+and has but the rudiment of an eye himself.
+
+Let us spend our day as deliberately as Nature. Let us rise early and
+fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation. Let us not be
+upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a
+dinner situated in the meridian shadows.
+
+Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I
+drink I see the sandy bottom, and detect how shallow it is. Its thin
+current glides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper, fish
+in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.
+
+
+_Reading_
+
+My residence was more favourable, not only to thought but to serious
+reading, than a university; and though I was beyond the range of the
+morning circulating library I had more than ever come within the
+influence of those books which circulate round the world. I kept
+Homer's "Iliad" on my table through the summer, though I looked at his
+pages only now and then. To read well--that is to read true books in
+a true spirit--is a noble exercise and one that will task the reader
+more than any exercise which the customs of the day esteem. Books must
+be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written. No wonder
+that Alexander carried the "Iliad" with him on his expeditions in a
+precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics.
+
+
+_In the Sun_
+
+I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans. Nay, I often did
+better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice
+the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or
+hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes on a summer morning,
+having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise
+till noon, rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and
+sumachs in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang
+around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling
+in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's waggon on the
+distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those
+seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work
+of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my
+life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realised what
+the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. Instead
+of singing like the birds I silently smiled at my incessant good
+fortune. This was sheer idleness to my fellow townsmen, no doubt, but
+if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard I should not
+have been found wanting.
+
+
+_Night Sounds_
+
+Regularly at half past seven, in one part of the summer, the
+whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on
+a stump by my door, or upon the ridge pole of the house. When other
+birds were still the screech owls took up the strain, like mourning
+women their ancient u-lu-lu. Wise midnight hags! I love to hear their
+wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the woodside. They give
+me a new sense of the variety and capacity of that nature which is our
+common dwelling. _Oh-o-o-o-o that I had never been bor-r-r-r-n_! sighs
+one on this side of the pond, and circles, with the restlessness of
+despair to some new perch on the gray oaks. Then: _That I had never
+been bor-r-r-r-n_! echoes another on the further side with tremulous
+sincerity, and _bor-r-r-r-n_! comes faintly from far in the Lincoln
+woods. I require that there are owls. They represent the stark twilight
+and unsatisfied thoughts which all have.
+
+I am not sure that ever I heard the sound of cock crowing from my
+clearing, and I thought that it might be worth the while to keep a
+cockerel for his music merely, as a singing bird. The note of this once
+wild Indian pheasant is certainly the most remarkable of any bird's,
+and if they could be naturalised without being domesticated it would
+soon become the most famous sound in our woods.
+
+I kept neither dog, cat, cow, pig, nor hens, so that you would have
+said there was a deficiency of domestic sounds, neither the churn nor
+the spinning wheel, nor even the singing of the kettle, nor the hissing
+of the urn, nor children crying, to comfort me; only squirrels on the
+roof, a whip-poor-will on the ridge pole, a bluejay screaming beneath
+the window, a woodchuck under the house, a laughing loon on the pond,
+and a fox to bark in the night.
+
+This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense and
+imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange
+liberty in Nature, a part of herself. Sympathy with the fluttering
+alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the
+lake, my serenity is rippled, but not ruffled. Though it is now dark
+the wind still blows and roars in the woods, the waves still dash, and
+some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never
+complete. The wildest animals do not repose but seek their prey now.
+They are Nature's watchmen--links which connect the days of animated
+life.
+
+I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. I never
+found the companion that was never so companionable as solitude. A man
+thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. I am
+no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud. God is
+alone, but the devil, he is far from being alone; he sees a great deal
+of company; he is legion. I am no more lonely than a single dandelion
+in a pasture, or a humble bee, or the North Star, or the first spider
+in a new house.
+
+
+_Visitors_
+
+In my house I have three chairs: one for solitude, two for friendship,
+three for society. My best room, however--my withdrawing room--always
+ready for company, was the pine wood behind my house. Thither in Summer
+days, when distinguished guests came, I took them, and a priceless
+domestic swept the floor and kept the things in order.
+
+I could not but notice some of the peculiarities of my visitors. Girls
+and boys, and young women generally, seemed glad to be in the woods.
+They looked in the pond and at the flowers, and improved their time.
+Men of business, even farmers, thought only of solitude and employment,
+and of the great distance at which I dwelt from something or other; and
+though they said that they loved a ramble in the woods occasionally, it
+was obvious that they did not. Restless, committed men, whose time was
+all taken up in getting a living, or keeping it, ministers, who spoke
+of God as if they enjoyed a monopoly of the subject, and who could not
+bear all kinds of opinions, doctors, lawyers, and uneasy housekeepers,
+who pried into my cupboard and bed when I was out, young men who had
+ceased to be young, and had concluded that it was safest to follow the
+beaten track of the professions--all these generally said that it was
+not possible to do as much good in my position.
+
+
+_Interference_
+
+After hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing in the forenoon, I usually
+bathed again in the pond, washed the dust of labour from my person,
+and for the afternoon was absolutely free. Every day or two I strolled
+to the village. As I walked in the woods to see the birds and the
+squirrels, so I walked in the village to see the men and the boys.
+Instead of the wind among the pines I heard the carts rattle.
+
+One afternoon near the end of the first summer, when I went to the
+village to get a shoe from the cobbler's, I was seized and put into
+jail, because I did not pay a tax to, or recognise the authority
+of, the State. I had gone down to the woods for other purposes. But
+wherever a man goes men will pursue and paw him with their dirty
+institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their
+desperate Odd Fellows society. However, I was released the next day,
+obtained my mended shoe, and returned to the woods in season to get my
+dinner of huckleberries on Fair Haven Hill. I was never molested by
+any person but those who represented the State. I had no lock nor bolt
+but for the desk which held my papers, not even a nail to put over my
+latch or window. I never fastened my door night or day, and though I
+was absent several days my house was more respected than if it had been
+surrounded by a file of soldiers.
+
+
+_Exhausted Experience_
+
+I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it
+seemed to me that I had several more lives to live and could not spare
+any more time for that one. It is remarkable how easily and insensibly
+we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.
+I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door
+to the pond side, and though it is five or six years since I trod it,
+it is still quite distinct. So with the paths which the mind travels.
+How worn and dusty then must be the highways of the world--how deep
+the ruts of tradition and conformity. I learned this, at least by my
+experiment, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his
+dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will
+meet with a success unexpected in common hours. In proportion as he
+simplifies his life the laws of the Universe will appear less complex,
+and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness
+weakness.
+
+
+
+
+ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE
+
+Democracy in America
+
+  Alexis de Tocqueville (see Vol. XII, p. 117), being commissioned
+  at the age of twenty-six to investigate and report on American
+  prisons, made use of his residence in the United States to
+  gain a thorough insight into the political institutions and
+  social conditions of the great Republic. The results of his
+  observations and reflections were given to the world in 1835,
+  in the two famous volumes _De la Democratie en Amerique_, which
+  were followed in 1840 by a third and fourth volume under the
+  same title. As an analysis of American political institutions De
+  Tocqueville's work has been superseded by Mr. Bryce's admirable
+  study of the same subject; but as one of the great classics of
+  political philosophy it can never be superseded, and has rarely
+  been rivalled. With all a Frenchman's simplicity and lucidity
+  he traces the manifold results of the democratic spirit; though
+  sometimes an excessive ingenuity, which is also French, leads
+  him to over-speculative conclusions. The work was received with
+  universal applause.
+
+
+_I.--Equality_
+
+The most striking impression which I received during my residence in
+the United States was that of the equality which reigns there. This
+equality gives a peculiar character to public opinion and to the
+laws of that country, and influences the entire structure of society
+in the most profound degree. Realising that equality, or democracy,
+was rapidly advancing in the Old World also, I determined to make a
+thorough study of democratic principles and of their consequences, as
+they are revealed in the western continent.
+
+We have only to review the history of European countries from the
+days of feudalism, to understand that the development of equality is
+one of the great designs of Providence; inasmuch as it is universal,
+inevitable, and lasting, and that every event and every individual
+contributes to its advancement.
+
+It is impossible to believe that a social movement which has proceeded
+so far as this movement towards equality has done, can be arrested
+by human efforts, or that the democracy which has bearded kings and
+barons can be successfully resisted by a wealthy bourgeoisie. We know
+not whither we are moving; we only know that greater equality is found
+to-day among Christian populations than has been known before in any
+age or in any country.
+
+I confess to a kind of religious terror in the presence of this
+irresistible revolution, which has defied every obstacle for the
+last ten centuries. A new political science is awaited by a world
+which is wholly new; but the most immediate duties of the statesman
+are to instruct the democracy, if possible to revive its beliefs, to
+purify its morals, to enlighten its inexperience by some knowledge of
+political principles, and to substitute for the blind instincts which
+sway it, the consciousness of its true interests.
+
+In the Old World, and in France especially, the more powerful,
+intelligent, and moralised classes have held themselves apart from
+democracy, and the latter has, therefore, been abandoned to its own
+savage instincts. The democratic revolution has permeated the whole
+substance of society, without those concomitant changes in laws, ideas,
+habits, and manners which ought to have embodied and clothed it. So
+it is that we indeed have democracy, but without those features which
+should have mitigated its vices and liberated its advantages. The
+prestige of royal power is gone, without being replaced by the majesty
+of law, and our people despise authority as much as they fear it. Our
+poor have the prejudices of their fathers without their beliefs, their
+ignorance, without their virtues; they have taken self-interest for
+a principle without knowing what their interests are. Our society is
+tranquil, not in the consciousness of strength and of well-being,
+but a sense of decrepitude and despair. That is why I have studied
+America, in order that we may ourselves profit by her example. I have
+no intention of writing a panegyric on the United States. I have seen
+more in America than America herself; I have sought a revelation of
+Democracy, with all its characters and tendencies, its prejudices and
+its passions.
+
+
+_II.--Religion and Liberty_
+
+Our first consideration is of great importance, and must never be
+lost sight of. The Anglo-American civilisation which we find in the
+United States is the product of two perfectly distinct elements, which
+elsewhere are often at war with one another, but have here been merged
+and combined in the most wonderful way; I mean the spirit of religion
+and the spirit of liberty. The founders of New England were at the same
+time ardent secretaries and enthusiastic radicals; they were bound
+by the narrowest religious beliefs, but were free from all political
+prejudice.
+
+Thus arose two tendencies which we may trace everywhere in American
+manners, as well as in their lives. All political principles, laws,
+and human institutions seem to have become plastic in the hands of the
+early colonists. The bonds which fettered the society in which they had
+been born fell from their limbs; ancient opinions which had dominated
+the world for ages simply disappeared; a new career opened for the
+human race; a world without horizons was before them, and they exulted
+in liberty. But outside the limits of the political world, they made no
+ventures of this kind. They abjured doubt, renounced their desire for
+innovation, left untouched the veil of the sanctuary, and knelt with
+awe before the truths of religion.
+
+So, in their world of morals, everything was already classed,
+arranged, foreseen, and determined; but in their world of politics,
+everything was agitated, debated, and uncertain. In the former they
+were ruled by a voluntary obedience, but in all political affairs they
+were inspired by independence, contempt for experience, and jealous of
+every authority.
+
+Far from impeding one another, these two tendencies, which appear so
+radically opposed, actually harmonise and seem even to support each
+other. Religion sees in civil liberty a noble field for the exercise
+of human faculties. Free and powerful in her own sphere, and satisfied
+with the part reserved for her, she knows that her sovereignty is all
+the more securely established when she depends only on her own strength
+and is founded in the hearts of men. And liberty, on the other hand,
+recognises in religion the comrade of its struggles and triumphs,
+the cradle of its rights. It knows that religion is the safeguard of
+morals, and that morals are the safeguard of the laws, and the judge of
+the continuance of liberty itself.
+
+
+_III.--Omnipotence of the Majority_
+
+The greatest danger to liberty in America lies in the omnipotence of
+the majority. A democratic power is never likely to perish for lack
+of strength or of resources, but it may very well fall because of
+the misdirection of its strength and the abuse of its resources. If
+ever liberty is lost in America, it will be due to an oppression of
+minorities which may drive them to an appeal to arms. The anarchy which
+must then result will be due only to despotism.
+
+This danger has not escaped the notice of American statesmen. Thus,
+President James Madison said, "It is of great importance to republics,
+not only that society should be defended from the oppression of
+those who govern it, but also that one section of society should be
+protected against the injustice of another section; for justice is the
+end towards which all government must be directed." Again, Jefferson
+said that "The tyranny of legislators is at present, and will be for
+many years, our most formidable danger. The tyranny of the executive
+will arise in its turn, but at a more distant period." Jefferson's
+words are of great importance, for I consider him to have been the most
+powerful apostle that democracy has ever had.
+
+But there are certain factors in the United States which moderate
+this tyranny of the majority. Chief among these is the absence of any
+administrative centralisation; so that the majority, which has often
+the tastes and instincts of a despot, lacks the instruments and the
+means of tyranny. The local administrative bodies constitute so many
+reefs and breakwaters to retard or divide the stream of the popular
+will.
+
+Not less important, as a counterpoise to the danger of democracy, is
+the strong legal spirit which pervades the United States. Lawyers have
+great influence and authority in matters of government. But lawyers
+are strongly imbued with the tasks and habits of mind which are most
+characteristic of aristocracy; they have an instinctive liking for
+forms and for order, a native distaste for the will of the multitude,
+and a secret contempt for popular government. Of course, their own
+personal interest may and often does over-ride this professional
+bias. But lawyers will always be, on the whole, friends of order and
+of precedent, and enemies of change. And in America, where there are
+neither nobles nor able political writers, and where the people are
+suspicious of the wealthy, the lawyers do, in fact, form the most
+powerful order in politics, and the most intellectual class of society.
+They therefore stand to lose by any innovation, and their conservative
+tendency is reinforced by their interests as a class.
+
+A third safeguard against the tyranny of the majority is to be found
+in the institution of a jury. Almost everyone is called at one time
+or another to sit on a jury, and thus learns at least something of
+the judicial spirit. The civil jury has saved English freedom in past
+times, and may be expected to maintain American liberties also. It is
+true that there are many cases, and those often the most important,
+in which the American judge pronounces sentence without a jury. Under
+those circumstances, his position is similar to that of a French judge,
+but his moral power is far greater; for the memory and the influence of
+juries are all about him, and he speaks with the authority of one who
+habitually rests upon the jury system. In no other countries are the
+judges so powerful as in those where the people are called in to share
+judicial privileges and responsibilities.
+
+
+_IV.--Equality of Men and Women_
+
+Inasmuch as democracy destroys or modifies the various inequalities
+which social traditions have made, it is natural to ask whether it has
+had any effect on that great inequality between men and women which
+is elsewhere so conspicuous. We are driven to the conclusion that the
+social movement which places son and father, servant and master, and in
+general, the inferior and superior, more nearly on the same level, must
+raise woman more and more to an equality with man.
+
+Let us guard, however, against misconceptions. There are people in
+Europe who confuse the natural qualities of the two sexes, and desire
+that men and women should be, not only equal, but also similar to one
+another. That would give them both the same functions, the same duties
+and the same rights, and would have them mingle in everything, in work,
+in pleasures, and in business. But the attempt to secure this kind
+of equality between the two sexes, only degrades them both, and must
+result in unmanly men, and unwomanly women.
+
+The Americans have not thus mistaken the kind of democratic equality
+which ought to hold between man and woman. They know that progress does
+not consist in forcing these dissimilar temperaments and faculties
+into the same mould, but in securing that each shall fulfil his or her
+task in the best possible way. They have most carefully separated the
+functions of man and woman, in order that the great work of social life
+may be most prosperously carried on.
+
+In America, far more than elsewhere, the lines of action of the two
+sexes have been clearly divided. You do not find American women
+directing the external affairs of the family, or entering into business
+or into politics; but neither do you find them obliged to undertake
+the rough labours of the field, or any other work requiring physical
+strength. There are no families so poor as to form an exception to this
+rule.
+
+So it is that American women often unite a masculine intelligence and
+a virile energy with an appearance of great refinement and altogether
+womanly manners.
+
+One has often noticed in Europe a certain tinge of contempt even in
+the flatteries which men lavish on women; and although the European
+often makes himself a slave of a woman, it is easy to see that he never
+really regards her as his equal. But in the United States men rarely
+praise women, though they show their esteem for them every day.
+
+Americans show, in fact, a full confidence in woman's reason, and a
+profound respect for her liberty. They realise that her mind is just as
+capable as that of man to discover truth, and that her heart is just as
+courageous in following it; and they have never tried to shelter or to
+guide her by means of prejudice, ignorance, or fear.
+
+For my part I do not hesitate to say that the singular prosperity and
+the evergrowing power of the American people is due to the superiority
+of American women.
+
+
+_V.--The Perfectibility of Man_
+
+Equality suggests many ideas which would never have arisen without
+it, and among others the notion that humanity can reach perfection--a
+theory which has practical consequences of great interest.
+
+In countries where the population is classed according to rank,
+profession, and birth, and everyone has to follow the career to which
+he happens to be born, each is conscious of limits to his power,
+and does not attempt to struggle against an inevitable destiny.
+Aristocratic peoples do not deny that man may be improved, but they
+think of this as an amelioration of the individual, and not as a change
+in social circumstances, and while they admit that humanity has made
+great progress, they believe in certain limits which it cannot pass.
+They do not think, for instance, that we shall arrive at sovereign good
+or at absolute truth.
+
+But in proportion as caste and class-distinction disappear, the
+vision of an ideal perfection arises before the human mind. Continual
+changes are ever taking place, some of them to his disadvantage, but
+the majority to his advantage, and the democrat concludes that man
+in general is capable of arriving at perfection. His reverses teach
+him that no one has yet discovered absolute good, and his frequent
+successes excite him to pursue it. Always seeking, falling, and rising
+again, often deceived, but never discouraged, he hastens towards an
+immense grandeur which he dimly conceives as the goal of humanity. This
+theory of perfectibility exercises prodigious influence even on those
+who have never thought of it. For instance, I ask an American sailor
+why the ships of his country are built to last only a few years; and
+he tells me without hesitation that the art of shipbuilding makes such
+rapid progress every day, that the finest ship constructed to-day must
+be useless after a very short time. From these words, spoken at random
+by an uneducated man, I can perceive the general and systematic idea
+which guides this great people in every matter.
+
+
+_VI.--American Vanity_
+
+All free people are proud of themselves, but national pride takes
+different forms. The Americans, in their relations with strangers, are
+impatient of the least criticism, and absolutely insatiable for praise.
+The slightest congratulation pleases them, but the most extravagant
+eulogium is not enough to satisfy them; they are all the time touting
+for your praise, and if you are slow to give it they begin praising
+themselves. It is as if they were doubtful of their own merit. Their
+vanity is not only hungry, but anxious and envious. It gives nothing,
+and asks insistently. It is both supplicant and pugnacious. If I tell
+an American that his country is a fine one, he replies, "It is the
+finest in the world." If I admire the liberty which it enjoys, he
+answers, "There are few people worthy of such liberty." I remark on the
+purity of manners in the United States, and he says, "Yes, a stranger
+who knows the corruption of other nations must indeed be astonished at
+us." At length I leave him to the contemplation of his country and of
+himself, but he presently runs after me, and will not go away until
+I have repeated it all over again. It is a kind of patriotism that
+worries even those who honour it.
+
+The Englishman, on the contrary, tranquilly enjoys the real or
+imaginary advantages which his country affords. He cares nothing for
+the blame nor for the praise of strangers. His attitude towards the
+whole world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve. His pride seeks
+no nourishment; it lives on itself. It is very remarkable that the two
+people who have arisen from the same stock should differ so radically
+in their way of feeling and speaking.
+
+In aristocratic countries, great families possess enormous privileges,
+on which their pride rests. They consider these privileges as a natural
+right inherent in their person, and their feeling of superiority
+is therefore a peaceful one. They have no reason to boast of the
+prerogatives which everyone concedes to them without question. So, when
+public affairs are directed by an aristocracy, the national pride tends
+to take this reserved, haughty, and independent form.
+
+Under democratic conditions, on the contrary, the least advantage
+which anyone gains has great importance in his eyes; for everyone is
+surrounded by millions very nearly his equal. His pride therefore
+becomes anxious and insatiable; he founds it on miserable trifles and
+defends it obstinately. Again, most Americans have recently acquired
+the advantages which they possess, and therefore have inordinate
+pleasure in contemplating these advantages, and in showing them to
+others; and as these advantages may escape at any moment, they are
+always uneasy about them, and look at them again and again to see that
+they still have them. Men who live in democracies love their country
+as they love themselves, and model their national vanity upon their
+private vanity. The close dependence of this anxious and insatiable
+vanity of democratic peoples upon the equality and fragility of their
+conditions is seen from the fact that the members of the proudest
+nobility show exactly the same passionate jealousy for the most
+trifling circumstances of their life when these become unstable or are
+contested.
+
+
+
+
+IZAAK WALTON
+
+The Compleat Angler
+
+  Izaak Walton, English author and angler, was born at Stafford
+  on August 9, 1593, and until about his fiftieth year lived as a
+  linen-draper in London. He then retired from business and lived
+  at Stafford for a few years; but returned to London in 1650, and
+  spent his closing years at Winchester, where he died on December
+  15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral there. Walton was
+  thrice married, his second wife being sister of the future Bishop
+  Ken. He had a large acquaintance with eminent clergymen, and
+  among his literary friends were Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton.
+  He was author of several charming biographies, including those
+  of the poet Donne, 1640, of Sir Henry Wotton, 1651, of Richard
+  Hooker, 1652, and of George Herbert, 1670. But by far his most
+  famous work is "The Compleat Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's
+  Recreation," published in 1653. There were earlier books on the
+  subject in English, such as Dame Juliana Berner's "Treatise
+  pertaining to Hawking, Hunting, and Fishing with an Angle," 1486;
+  the "Book of Fishing with Hook and Line," 1590; a poem, "The
+  Secrets of Angling," by John Denny, 1613; and several others.
+  The new thing in Walton's book, and the secret of its unfading
+  popularity, is the charm of temperament. Charles Lamb well said
+  that it "breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and
+  simplicity of heart." A sequel to the book, entitled the "Second
+  Part of the Compleat Angler," was written by Charles Cotton, and
+  published in 1676.
+
+
+_The Virtues of Angling_
+
+PISCATOR, VENATOR, AND AUCEPS
+
+_Piscator._ You are well overtaken, gentlemen! A good morning to you
+both! I have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake you,
+hoping your business may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going
+this fine fresh May morning.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your hopes, for my
+purpose is to drink my morning's draught at the Thatched House. And,
+sir, as we are all so happy to have a fine morning, I hope we shall
+each be the happier in each other's company.
+
+_Auceps._ Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company as far as
+Theobald's, for then I turn up to a friend's house, who mews a hawk for
+me. And as the Italians say, good company in a journey maketh the way
+to seem the shorter, I, for my part, promise you that I shall be as
+free and open-hearted as discretion will allow with strangers.
+
+_Piscator._ I am right glad to hear your answers. I shall put on a
+boldness to ask you, sir, whether business or pleasure caused you to be
+up so early, for this other gentleman hath declared he is going to see
+a hawk that a friend mews for him.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, I intend to go hunting the otter.
+
+_Piscator._ Those villainous vermin, for I hate them perfectly, because
+they love fish so well, or rather destroy so much. For I, sir, am a
+brother of the angle.
+
+_Auceps._ And I profess myself a falconer, and have heard many
+grave, serious men scoff at anglers and pity them, as it is a heavy,
+contemptible, dull recreation.
+
+_Piscator._ You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at any
+art or recreation; a little wit mixed with all nature, confidence, and
+malice will do it; but though they often venture boldly, yet they are
+often caught, even in their own trap.
+
+There be many men that are by others taken to be serious, and grave
+men, which we contemn and pity: men that are taken to be grave because
+nature hath made them of a sour complexion--money-getting men, men that
+are condemned to be rich; for these poor, rich men, we anglers pity
+them most perfectly. No, sir! We enjoy a contentedness above the reach
+of such dispositions.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you have almost amazed me; for though I am no scoffer,
+yet I have--I pray let me speak it without offence--always looked upon
+anglers as more patient and simple men than, I fear, I shall find you
+to be.
+
+_Piscator._ Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be
+impatience! As for my simplicity, if by that you mean a harmlessness
+which was usually found in the primitive Christians, who were, as most
+anglers are, followers of peace--then myself and men of my profession
+will be glad to be so understood. But if, by simplicity, you mean to
+express a general defect, I hope in time to disabuse you.
+
+But, gentlemen, I am not so unmannerly as to engross all the discourse
+to myself; I shall be most glad to hear what you can say in the
+commendation of your several recreations.
+
+_Auceps._ The element I use to trade in, the air, is an element of more
+worth than weight; an element that doubtless exceeds both the earth and
+water; in it my noble falcon ascends to such a height as the dull eye
+of man is not able to reach to; my troop of hawks soars up on high, so
+that they converse with the gods.
+
+And more, the worth of this element of air is such that all creatures
+whatsoever stand in need of it. The waters cannot preserve their fish
+without air; witness the not breaking of ice and the result thereof.
+
+_Venator._ Well, sir, I will now take my turn. The earth, that solid,
+settled element, is the one on which I drive my pleasant, wholesome,
+hungry trade. What pleasure doth man take in hunting the stately stag,
+the cunning otter! The earth breeds and nourishes the mighty elephant,
+and also the least of creatures! It puts limits to the proud and raging
+seas, and so preserves both man and beast; daily we see those that are
+shipwrecked and left to feed haddocks; but, Mr. Piscator, I will not be
+so uncivil as not to allow you time for the commendation of angling; I
+doubt we shall hear a watery discourse--and I hope not a long one.
+
+_Piscator._ Gentlemen, my discourse is likely to prove suitable to my
+recreation--calm and quiet.
+
+Water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon which
+the spirit of God did first move. There be those that profess to
+believe that all bodies are water, and may be reduced back into water
+only.
+
+The water is more productive than the earth. The increase of creatures
+that are bred in the water is not only more miraculous, but more
+advantageous to man for the preventing of sickness. It is observed that
+the casting of Lent and other fish days hath doubtless been the cause
+of these many putrid, shaking agues, to which this country of ours is
+now more subject.
+
+To pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths the Romans have made
+fish the mistress of all their entertainments; and have had music to
+usher in their sturgeons, lampreys, and mullets.
+
+_Auceps._ Sir, it is with such sadness that I must part with you here,
+for I see Theobald's house. And so I part full of good thoughts. God
+keep you both.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you said angling was of great antiquity, and a perfect
+art, not easily attained to. I am desirous to hear further concerning
+those particulars.
+
+_Piscator._ Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly?
+A trout! more sharp-sighted than any hawk! Doubt not, angling is an art
+worth your learning. The question is rather, whether you be capable
+of learning it? Angling is like poetry--men are to be born so. Some
+say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood, and Moses makes mention of
+fish-hooks, which must imply anglers.
+
+But as I would rather prove myself a gentleman by being learned, and
+humble, valiant, and inoffensive, virtuous, and communicable, than by
+any fond ostentation of riches, or, wanting those virtues, boast these
+were in my ancestors, so if this antiquity of angling shall be an
+honour to this art, I shall be glad I made mention of it.
+
+I shall tell you that in ancient times a debate hath arisen, whether
+the happiness of man doth consist more in contemplation or action?
+
+Some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of the first by saying
+that the nearer we mortals approach to God by way of imitation,
+the more happy we are. And they say God enjoys Himself only by a
+contemplation of His own infiniteness, eternity, power, goodness and
+the like.
+
+On the contrary, there want not men of equal authority that prefer
+action to be the more excellent, such as experiments in physics for the
+ease and prolongation of man's life. Concerning which two opinions I
+shall forbear to add a third, and tell you, my worthy friend, that both
+these meet together and do most properly belong to the most honest,
+quiet, and harmless art of angling.
+
+An ingenious Spaniard says that "rivers and the inhabitants thereof
+were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without
+consideration."
+
+There be many wonders reported of rivers, as of a river in Epirus, that
+puts out any lighted torch, and kindles any torch that was not lighted;
+the river Selarus, that in a few hours turns a rod to stone, and
+mention is made of the like in England, and many others on historical
+faith.
+
+But to tell you something of the monsters, or fish, call them what you
+will, Pliny says the fish called the Balaena is so long and so broad as
+to take up more length and breadth than two acres of ground; and in the
+river Ganges there be eels thirty feet long.
+
+I know we islanders are averse to the belief of these wonders, but
+there are many strange creatures to be now seen. Did not the Prophet
+David say, "They that occupy themselves in deep water see the wonderful
+works of God"; and the apostles of our Saviour, were not they four
+simple fishermen; He found that the hearts of such men, by nature,
+were fitted for contemplation and quietness--men of sweet and peaceable
+spirits, as indeed most anglers are.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the
+Thatched House, for I thought we had three miles of it. Let us drink a
+civil cup to all lovers of angling, of which number I am now willing
+to count myself, and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the time and
+place appointed, we two will do nothing but talk of fish and fishing.
+
+_Piscator._ 'Tis a match, sir; I will not fail you, God willing, to be
+at Amwell Hill to-morrow before sun-rising.
+
+
+_Master and Pupil_
+
+_Piscator._ Sir, I am right glad to meet you. Come, honest Venator, let
+us be gone; I long to be doing.
+
+_Venator._ Well, let's to your sport of angling.
+
+_Piscator._ With all my heart. But we are not yet come to a likely
+place. Let us walk on. But let us first to an honest alehouse, where my
+hostess can give us a cup of her best drink.
+
+Seneca says that the ancients were so curious in the newness of their
+fish, that they usually did keep them living in glass-bottles in their
+dining-rooms, and did glory much in the entertaining of their friends,
+to have the fish taken from under their tables alive that was instantly
+to be fed upon. Our hostess shall dress us a trout, that we shall
+presently catch, and we, with brother Peter and Goridon, will sup on
+him here this same evening.
+
+_Venator._ And now to our sport.
+
+_Piscator._ This is not a likely place for a trout; the sun is too
+high. But there lie upon the top of the water twenty Chub. Sir, here is
+a trial of my skill! I'll catch only one, and he shall be the big one,
+that has some bruise upon his tail.
+
+_Venator._ I'll sit down and hope well; because you seem so confident.
+
+_Piscator._ Look you, sir! The very one! Oh, 'tis a great logger-headed
+Chub! I'll warrant he will make a good dish of meat.
+
+Under that broad beech tree yonder, I sat down when I was last
+a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a
+friendly contention with the echo that lives in a hollow near the brow
+of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver stream slide
+away, and the lambs sporting harmlessly. And as I sat, these sights so
+possessed my soul, that I thought as the poet hath it:
+
+   "I was for that time lifted above earth;
+    And possess'd joys not promised at my birth."
+
+But, let us further on; and we will try for a Trout. 'Tis now past five
+of the clock.
+
+_Venator._ I have a bite! Oh me! He has broke all; and a good hook
+lost! But I have no fortune! Sure yours is a better rod and tackling.
+
+_Piscator._ Nay, then, take mine, and I will fish with yours. Look you,
+scholar, I have another. I pray, put that net under him, but touch not
+my line. Well done, scholar, I thank you.
+
+And now, having three brace of Trouts, I will tell you a tale as we
+walk back to our hostess.
+
+A preacher that was to procure the approbation of a parish got from
+a fellow preacher the copy of a sermon that was preached with great
+commendation by him that composed it; and though the borrower preached
+it, word for word, yet it was utterly disliked; and on complaining to
+the lender of it, was thus answered: "I lent you indeed my fiddle, but
+not my fiddlestick; for you are to know, everyone cannot make music
+with my words, which are fitted for my own mouth." And though I lend
+you my very rod and tacklings, yet you have not my fiddlestick, that
+is, the skill wherewith I guide it.
+
+_Venator._ Master, you spoke very true. Yonder comes mine hostess to
+call us to supper; and when we have supped we will sing songs which
+shall give some addition of mirth to the company.
+
+_Piscator._ And so say I; for to-morrow we meet again up the water
+towards Waltham.
+
+
+_Fish of English Streams_
+
+_Piscator._ Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, as Dr.
+Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless God could have made a better
+berry, but doubtless God never did"; and so, God never did make a more
+calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
+
+And when I see how pleasantly that meadow looks; and the earth smells
+so sweetly too; I think of them as Charles the Emperor did of the City
+of Florence; "that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but on
+holidays."
+
+To speak of fishes; the Salmon is accounted the king of fresh-water
+fish. He breeds in the rivers in the month of August, and then hastes
+to the sea before winter; where he recovers his strength and comes the
+next summer to the same river; for like persons of riches, he has his
+summer and winter house, to spend his life in, which is, as Sir Francis
+Bacon hath observed, not above ten years.
+
+The Pike, the tyrant of the fresh-waters, is said to be the
+longest-lived of any fresh-water fish, but not usually above forty
+years. Gesner relates of a man watering his mule in a pond, where the
+Pike had devoured all the fish, had the Pike bite his mule's lips; to
+which he hung so fast, the mule did draw him out of the water. And
+this same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland washing clothes in
+a pond, had a Pike bite her by the foot. I have told you who relate
+these things; and shall conclude by telling you, what a wise-man hath
+observed: "It is a hard thing to persuade the belly, because it has no
+ears."
+
+Besides being an eater of great voracity, the Pike is observed to be a
+solitary, melancholy and a bold fish. When he is dressed with a goodly,
+rich sauce, and oysters, this dish of meat is too good for any man, but
+an angler, or a very honest man.
+
+The Carp, that hath only lately been naturalised in England, is said to
+be the queen of rivers, and will grow to a very great bigness; I have
+heard, much above a yard long.
+
+The stately Bream, and the Tench, that physician of fishes, love best
+to live in ponds. In every Tench's head are two little stones which
+physicians make great use of. Rondeletius says, at his being in Rome,
+he saw a great cure done by applying a Tench to the feet of a sick man.
+
+But I will not meddle more with that; there are too many meddlers in
+physic and divinity that think fit to meddle with hidden secrets and so
+bring destruction to their followers.
+
+The Perch is a bold, biting fish, and carries his teeth in his mouth;
+and to affright the Pike and save himself he will set up his fins, like
+as a turkey-cock will set up his tail. If there be twenty or forty in
+a hole, they may be catched one after the other, at one standing; they
+being, like the wicked of this world, not afraid, though their fellows
+and companions perish in their sight.
+
+And now I think best to rest myself, for I have almost spent my spirits
+with talking.
+
+_Venator._ Nay, good master, one fish more! For it rains yet; you know
+our angles are like money put to usury; they may thrive, though we sit
+still. Come, the other fish, good master!
+
+_Piscator._ But shall I nothing from you, that seem to have both a good
+memory and a cheerful spirit?
+
+_Venator._ Yes, master; I will speak you a copy of verses that allude
+to rivers and fishing:
+
+    Come, live with me, and be my love,
+    And we will some new pleasures prove;
+    Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
+    With silken lines, and silver hooks.
+
+    When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
+    Each fish, which every channel hath,
+    Most amorously to thee will swim,
+    Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
+
+    Let others freeze with angling reeds,
+    And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
+    Or treacherously poor fish beget
+    With trangling snare or windowy net;
+
+    For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
+    For thou, thyself, art thine own bait,
+    That fish, that is not catched thereby
+    Is wiser far, alas, than I!
+
+_Piscator._ I thank you for these choice verses. And I will now tell
+you of the Eel, which is a most dainty fish. The Romans have esteemed
+her the Helena of their feasts. Sir Francis Bacon will allow the Eel to
+live but ten years; but he mentions a Lamprey, belonging to the Roman
+Emperor, that was made tame and kept for three-score years; so that
+when she died, Crassus, the orator, lamented her death.
+
+I will tell you next how to make the Eel a most excellent dish of meat.
+
+First, wash him in water and salt, then pull off his skin and clean
+him; then give him three or four scotches with a knife; and then put
+into him sweet herbs, an anchovy and a little nutmeg. Then pull his
+skin over him, and tie him with pack-thread; and baste him with butter,
+and what he drips, be his sauce. And when I dress an Eel thus, I wish
+he were a yard and three-quarters long. But they are not so proper to
+be talked of by me because they make us anglers no sport.
+
+The Barbel, so called by reason of his barb or wattles, and the
+Gudgeon, are both fine fish of excellent shape.
+
+My further purpose was to give you directions concerning Roach and
+Dace, but I will forbear. I see yonder, brother Peter. But I promise
+you, to-morrow as we walk towards London, if I have forgotten anything
+now I will not then keep it from you.
+
+_Venator._ Come, we will all join together and drink a cup to our
+jovial host, and so to bed. I say good-night to everybody.
+
+_Piscator._ And so say I.
+
+
+_Walking Homewards_
+
+_Piscator._ I will tell you, my honest scholar, I once heard one say,
+"I envy not him that eats better meat, or wears better clothes than I
+do; I envy him only that catches more fish than I do."
+
+And there be other little fish that I had almost forgot, such as the
+Minnow or Penk; the dainty Loach; the Miller's-Thumb, of no pleasing
+shape; the Stickle-bag, good only to make sport for boys and women
+anglers.
+
+Well, scholar, I could tell you many things of the rivers of this
+nation, the chief of which is the Thamisis; of fish-ponds, and how to
+breed fish within them, and how to order your lines and baits for the
+several fishes; but, I will tell you some of the thoughts that have
+possessed my soul since we met together. And you shall join with me
+in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for our
+happiness; which may appear the greater when we consider how many, even
+at this very time, lie under the torment, and the stone, the gout, and
+tooth-ache; and all these we are free from.
+
+Since we met, others have met disasters, some have been blasted, and
+we have been free from these. What is a far greater mercy, we are free
+from the insupportable burden of an accusing conscience.
+
+Let me tell you, there be many that have forty times our estates, that
+would give the greatest part of it to be healthful and cheerful like
+us; who have eat, and drank, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and
+slept; and rose next day, and cast away care, and sung, and laughed,
+and angled again.
+
+I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy that he has no leisure
+to laugh. He says that Solomon says, "The diligent man makest
+rich"; but, he considers not what was wisely said by a man of great
+observation, "That there be as many miseries beyond riches, as on this
+side them."
+
+Let me tell you, scholar, Diogenes walked one day through a country
+fair, where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and
+fiddles, and many other gimcracks; and said to his friend, "Lord, how
+many things are there in this world Diogenes hath no need!"
+
+All this is told you to incline you to thankfulness: though the prophet
+David was guilty of murder and many other of the most deadly sins, yet
+he was said to be a man after God's own heart, because he abounded with
+thankfulness.
+
+Well, scholar, I have almost tired myself, and I fear, more than tired
+you.
+
+But, I now see Tottenham High Cross, which puts a period to our too
+long discourse, in which my meaning was to plant that in your mind with
+which I labour to possess my own soul--that is, a meek and thankful
+heart. And, to that end, I have showed you that riches without them do
+not make a man happy. But riches with them remove many fears and cares.
+Therefore, my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or
+contentedly poor; but be sure your riches be justly got; for it is well
+said by Caussin, "He that loses his conscience, has nothing left that
+is worth the keeping." So look to that. And in the next place, look to
+your health, for health is a blessing that money cannot buy. As for
+money, neglect it not, and, if you have a competence, enjoy it with a
+cheerful, thankful heart.
+
+_Venator._ Well, master, I thank you for all your good directions, and
+especially for this last, of thankfulness. And now being at Tottenham
+High Cross, I will requite a part of your courtesies with a drink
+composed of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which, all put together,
+make a drink like nectar indeed; and too good for anybody, but us
+anglers. So, here is a full glass to you.
+
+_Piscator._ And I to you, sir.
+
+_Venator._ Sir, your company and discourse have been so pleasant that I
+truly say, that I have only lived since I enjoyed it an turned angler,
+and not before.
+
+I will not forget the doctrines Socrates taught his scholars, that they
+should not think to be honoured for being philosophers, so much as to
+honour philosophy by the virtue of their lives. You advised me to the
+like concerning angling, and to live like those same worthy men. And
+this is my firm resolution.
+
+And when I would beget content, I will walk the meadows, by some
+gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care.
+That is my purpose; and so, "let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be
+with mine."
+
+_Piscator._ And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and be quiet, and
+go a-angling.
+
+
+
+
+_Index_
+
+
+  In the following Index the Roman Numerals refer to the _Volumes_,
+  and the Arabic Numerals to _Pages_. The numerals in heavy, or
+  =black-faced= type, indicate the place where the _biographical_
+  notice will be found.
+
+  Abbe Constantine, The  V 38
+
+  ABELARD AND HELOISE  =IX= 1
+
+  ABOUT, EDMOND  =I= 1
+
+  Adam Bede  IV 33
+
+  ADDISON, JOSEPH  =XVI= 1;  XX 1
+
+  Advancement of Learning, The  XIII 321
+
+  Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, The  II 41
+
+  Advice to Young Men  XX 78
+
+  AESCHYLUS  =XVI= 16 _seq._
+
+  AESOP  =XX= 10
+
+  Africa: see Vol. XIX
+
+  Agamemnon, The  XVI 16
+
+  Age of Reason, The  XIII 196
+
+  Aids to Reflection  XIII 84
+
+  AINSWORTH, HARRISON  =I= 17
+
+  Albert N'Yanza, The  XIX 1
+
+  Alcestis  XVI 336
+
+  Alice's Adventures in Wonderland  II 176
+
+  All for Love  XVI 322
+
+  Alton Locke  V 236
+
+  Ambrosio, or the Monk  VI 51
+
+  Amelia  IV 122
+
+  America, History of:
+    Mexico  XII 19;
+    Peru  XII 30;
+    United States  XII 1;
+    see also WASHINGTON, FRANKLIN, etc.
+
+  ----, Democracy in  XX 324
+
+  ----, Wanderings in South  XIX 313
+
+  Anabasis, The  XI 110
+
+  Anatomy of Melancholy, The  XX 41
+
+  ---- of Vertebrates  XV 280
+
+  ANDERSEN, HANS CHRISTIAN  =I= 30
+
+  Angler, The Complete  XX 334
+
+  Animal Chemistry  XV 203
+
+  Anna Karenina  VIII 205
+
+  Annals of the Parish  IV 204
+
+  ---- of Tacitus  XI 156
+
+  Antigone  XVIII 237
+
+  Antiquary, The  VII 241
+
+  Antiquities of the Jews  XI 43
+
+  APOCRYPHA, THE  =XIII= 1
+
+  Apologia Pro Vita Sua  XIII 185
+
+  Apology, or Defence of Socrates  XIV 75
+
+  APULEIUS  =I= 45
+
+  ARABIAN NIGHTS  =I= 61
+
+  Arcadia  VIII 54
+
+  Areopagitica  XX 257
+
+  ARIOSTO, LUDOVICO  =XVI= 51
+
+  ARISTOPHANES  =XVI= 64 _seq._
+
+  ARISTOTLE  =XIII= 291
+
+  Arne  I 274
+
+  ARNOLD, MATTHEW  =XX= 18
+
+  Arnold, Life of Thomas  X 260
+
+  Astronomy, Outlines of  XV 146
+
+  Atala  II 224
+
+  Atta Troll  XVII 50
+
+  AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE  =I= 79
+
+  AUERBACH, BERTHOLD  =I= 93
+
+  AUGUSTINE, SAINT  =IX= 24;  XIII 29
+
+  AURELIUS (MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS)  =XIII= 307
+
+  Aurora Leigh  XVI 144
+
+  AUSTEN, JANE  =I= 109 _seq._
+
+  Authority of Scripture, The  XIII 129
+
+  Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle  IX 91
+
+  Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini  IX 120
+
+  ---- of Benjamin Franklin  IX 247
+
+  ---- of Flavius Josephus  X 61
+
+  Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The  XX 181
+
+
+  BACON, FRANCIS  =XIII= 321
+
+  BAGEHOT, WALTER  =XII= 88
+
+  BAILEY, PHILIP JAMES  =XVI= 86
+
+  BAKER, SIR SAMUEL  =XIX= 1
+
+  BALZAC, HONORE DE  =I= 188 _seq._
+
+  Barber of Seville, The  XVI 101
+
+  Barchester Towers  VIII 233
+
+  Barnaby Rudge  III 53
+
+  BAXTER, RICHARD  =XIII= 37
+
+  Beaconsfield, Earl of: see DISRAELI, BENJAMIN
+
+  BEAUMARCHAIS, P.A. CARON DE  =XVI= 101 _seq._
+
+  BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER  =XVI= 133
+
+  BECKFORD, WILLIAM  =I= 244
+
+  BEHN, APHRA  =I= 255
+
+  Belinda  IV 13
+
+  BELLAMY, EDWARD  =XIV= 173
+
+  BENTHAM, JEREMY  =XIV= 186
+
+  Berenice  XVIII 106
+
+  BERGERAC, CYRANO DE  =I= 265
+
+  BERKELEY, GEORGE  =XIII= 329
+
+  Bernard, Life of Saint  X 135
+
+  Betrothed, The  VI 169
+
+  Beyle, Henri: see STENDHAL
+
+  Bible in Spain, The  XIX 22
+
+  Biographia Literaria  IX 166
+
+  Biology, Principles of  XIV 133
+
+  Birds, The  XVI 64
+
+  BJOeRNSON, BJOeRNSTJERNE  =I= 274 _seq._
+
+  BLACK, WILLIAM  =I= 300
+
+  Black Prophet, The  II 164
+
+  ---- Tulip, The  III 281
+
+  BLACKMORE, R. D.  =I= 313
+
+  Bleak House  III 66
+
+  BLOCH, JEAN  =XIV= 199
+
+  Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A  XVI 154
+
+  BOCCACCIO, GIOVANNI  =I= 327
+
+  BOOK OF THE DEAD  =XIII= 47
+
+  BORROW, GEORGE  =II= 1 _seq._;  XIX 13 _seq._
+
+  BOSWELL, JAMES  =IX= 37;  XIX 37
+
+  Bothwell  IV 301
+
+  BRADDON, M. E.  =II= 27
+
+  BRADLEY, EDWARD ("Cuthbert Bede")  =II= 41
+
+  BRAHMANISM, BOOKS OF  =XIII= 59
+
+  BRAMWELL, JOHN MILNE  =XV= 1
+
+  BRANDES, GEORGE  =XX= 31
+
+  BREWSTER, SIR DAVIS  =IX= 66
+
+  BRONTE, CHARLOTTE  =II= 54 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 259
+
+  BRONTE, EMILY  =II= 97
+
+  BROWNE, SIR THOMAS  =XIII= 66
+
+  BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT  =XVI= 144
+
+  BROWNING, ROBERT  =XVI= 154 _seq._
+
+  BRUCE, JAMES  =XIX= 47
+
+  BUCHANAN, ROBERT  =II= 111
+
+  BUCKLE, HENRY  =XII= 76
+
+  BUFFON, COMTE DE  =XV= 12
+
+  BUNYAN, JOHN  =II= 124 _seq._;  =IX= 79
+
+  BURCKHARDT, JOHN LEWIS  =XIX= 57
+
+  BURKE, EDMUND  =XIV= 212
+
+  BURNEY, FANNY  =II= 150
+
+  Burns, Life of Robert  X 86
+
+  BURTON, ROBERT  =XX= 41
+
+  BURTON, SIR RICHARD  =XIX= 67
+
+  BUTLER, SAMUEL  =XVI= 177
+
+  BUTLER, SIR WILLIAM  =XIX=79 _seq._
+
+  BYRON, LORD  =XVI= 188 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  X 122
+
+
+  CAESAR, JULIUS  =XI= 144
+
+  CALDERON DE LA BARCA  =XVI= 206
+
+  Caleb Williams  IV 241
+
+  Caliph Vathek, History of  I 244
+
+  Called Back  II 274
+
+  CALVIN, JOHN  =XIII= 75
+
+  Canterbury Tales, The  XVI 226
+
+  Capital: A Critical Analysis  XIV 282
+
+  Captain's Daughter, The  VII 42
+
+  Captain Singleton  III 41
+
+  CARLETON, WILLIAM  =II= 164
+
+  CARLYLE, ALEXANDER  =IX= 91
+
+  CARLYLE, THOMAS  =IX= 99;  XII 147;  XII 188;  XX 50 _seq._
+
+  Carmen  VI 239
+
+  CARROLL, LEWIS  =II= 176
+
+  Castle of Otranto  VIII 303
+
+  ---- Rackrent  IV 21
+
+  Catiline, Conspiracy of  XI 168
+
+  Cato: A Tragedy  XVI 1
+
+  CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS  =XVI= 219
+
+  CELLINI, BENVENUTO  =IX= 120
+
+  Cellular Pathology  XV 292
+
+  CERVANTES, MIGUEL  =II= 198
+
+  CHAMBERS, ROBERT  =XV= 22
+
+  CHAMISSO, ADALBERT VON  =II= 212
+
+  Characters  XX 193
+
+  Charles XII, History of  XII 280
+
+  ---- O'Malley  VI 26
+
+  Chartreuse of Parma, The  VIII 103
+
+  CHATEAUBRIAND, FRANCOIS RENE VICOMTE DE  =II= 224;  IX 124
+
+  CHAUCER, GEOFFREY  =XVI= 226
+
+  Chemical History of a Candle, The  XV 85
+
+  ---- Philosophy, Elements of  XV 64
+
+  Chemistry, Animal  XV 203
+
+  CHERBULIEZ, CHARLES VICTOR  =II= 235
+
+  CHESTERFIELD, EARL OF  =IX= 144
+
+  Childe Harold's Pilgrimage  XVI 188
+
+  Childhood, Boyhood, Youth  X 291
+
+  China's Four Books: see CONFUCIANISM
+
+  Christ, Imitation of  XIII 160
+
+  Christian Religion, Institution of the  XIII 75
+
+  Christianity, History of Latin: see Papacy
+
+  Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland  XI 286
+
+  CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS  =IX= 155;  XX 70
+
+  Cid, The  XVI 267
+
+  Citizen of the World, The  XX 149
+
+  City of Dreadful Night, The  XVIII 293
+
+  ---- of God, The  XIII 29
+
+  Civilisation in Europe, History of  XI 241
+
+  Clarendon, Earl of: see HYDE, EDWARD
+
+  Clarissa Harlowe  VII 118
+
+  Cloister and the Hearth, The  VII 92
+
+  COBBETT, WILLIAM  =XX= 78
+
+  Cobden, Life of Richard  X 144
+
+  COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR  =IX= 166;  XIII 84
+
+  Collegians, The  V 13
+
+  COLLINS, WILKIE  =II= 249 _seq._
+
+  Columbus, Life of Christopher  X 41
+
+  Commentaries on the Gallic War  XI 144
+
+  Complete Angler, The  XX 334
+
+  COMTE, AUGUSTE  =XIV= 244
+
+  Concerning Friendship  XX 70
+
+  ---- the Human Understanding  XIV 56
+
+  Confessions, My (Count Tolstoy)  X 301
+
+  ---- of Augustine  IX 24
+
+  ---- of an English Opium Eater  IX 189
+
+  ---- of Jean Jacques Rousseau  X 190
+
+  CONFUCIANISM  =XIII= 93
+
+  CONGREVE, WILLIAM  =XVI= 246 _seq._
+
+  Coningsby  III 227
+
+  Conspiracy of Catiline, The  XI 168
+
+  Consuelo  VII 205
+
+  Conversations with Eckerman  IX 303
+
+  ----, Imaginary  XX 203
+
+  CONWAY, HUGH  =II= 274
+
+  COOK, JAMES  =XIX= 100
+
+  COOPER, FENIMORE  =II= 285 _seq._
+
+  Corinne  VIII 89
+
+  CORNEILLE, PIERRE  =XVI= 267 _seq._
+
+  Corsican Brothers, The  III 292
+
+  Cosmos, A Sketch of the Universe  XV 158
+
+  Count of Monte Cristo, The  III 304
+
+  Courtships of (Queen) Elizabeth, The  X 13
+
+  COWPER, WILLIAM  =IX= 177;  XVI 290
+
+  CRAIK, MRS.  =II= 312
+
+  Cranford  IV 215
+
+  Creation, Vestiges of  XV 22
+
+  Crescent and the Cross, The  XIX 299
+
+  Critique of Practical Reason  XIV 34
+
+  ---- of Pure Reason  XIV 24
+
+  CROLY, GEORGE  =II= 324
+
+  Cromwell, Letters and Speeches of Oliver  IX 99
+
+  Cuthbert Bede: see BRADLEY, EDWARD
+
+  CUVIER, GEORGES  =XV= 33
+
+
+  DAMPIER, WILLIAM  =XIX= 112
+
+  DANA, RICHARD HENRY  =II= 335
+
+  DANTE ALIGHIERI  =XVI= 300 _seq._
+
+  DARWIN, CHARLES  =XV= 43;  XIX 124
+
+  DAUDET, ALPHONSE  =III= 1
+
+  Daughter of Heth, A  I 300
+
+  David Copperfield  III 79
+
+  DA VINCI, LEONARDO  =XX= 227
+
+  DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY  =XV= 64
+
+  Dawn of Civilisation, The  XI 1
+
+  DAY, THOMAS  =III= 14
+
+  Dead Man's Diary, A  V 224
+
+  Death of the Gods, The  VI 227
+
+  Decameron, The, or Ten Days' Entertainment  I 327
+
+  Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire  XI 174 _seq._;  XI 229
+
+  Deeds and Words  X 1
+
+  DEFOE, DANIEL  =III= 26 _seq._;  XX 90
+
+  Democracy in America  XX 324
+
+  DEMOSTHENES  =XX= 99
+
+  DE QUINCEY, THOMAS  =IX= 189
+
+  DESCARTES, RENE  =XIII= 337
+
+  Desert, The  XIX 201
+
+  Dialogues on the System of the World  XV 105
+
+  Diary of John Evelyn  IX 213
+
+  ---- of Samuel Pepys  X 154
+
+  DICKENS, CHARLES  =III= 53 _seq._
+
+  Discourse on Method  XIII 337
+
+  Discourses and Encheiridion (Epictetus)  XIII 358
+
+  ---- with Himself (M. Aurelius)  XIII 307
+
+  Discovery of the Source of the Nile  XIX 251
+
+  DISRAELI, BENJAMIN  =III= 227 _seq._
+
+  Divine Comedy, The  XVI 300 _seq._
+
+  Doctor in Spite of Himself, The  XVII 362
+
+  Dombey and Son  III 94
+
+  Don Juan  XVI 197
+
+  ---- Quixote, Life and Adventures of  II 198
+
+  Drink  VIII 318
+
+  DRYDEN, JOHN  =XVI= 322
+
+  DUBOIS, FELIX  =XIX= 136
+
+  DUMAS, ALEXANDRE (_pere_)  =III= 269 _seq._;  =IX= 201 (Memoirs)
+
+  Dutch Republic, Rise of the  XII 220
+
+
+  Earth, Theory of the  XV 170
+
+  EBERS, GEORGE  =IV= 1
+
+  Eckerman, Goethe's Conversations with  IX 303
+
+  EDGEWORTH, MARIA  =IV= 13 _seq._
+
+  Education  XIV 120
+
+  Egypt:
+    Ancient History  XI 1 _seq._;
+    Mediaeval History  XI 272;
+    Religion  XIII 47
+
+  Egyptian Princess, An  IV 1
+
+  Electricity, Experimental Researches in  XV 75
+
+  ---- and Magnetism, Treatise on  XV 227
+
+  Elements of Chemical Philosophy  XV 64
+
+  ELIOT, GEORGE  =IV= 33 _seq._
+
+  ELIOT, SAMUEL  =XII= 1
+
+  Elizabeth, Queen:
+    Courtships  X 13;
+    "Life"  X 270
+
+  ELPHINSTONE, MOUNTSTUART  =XII= 246
+
+  Elsie Venner  V 87
+
+  EMERSON, RALPH WALDO  =XIII= 349;  XX 109 _seq._
+
+  Emma  I 162
+
+  England, History of:
+    Buckle  XII 76;
+    Freeman  XI 298;
+    Froude  XI 315;
+    Holinshed  XI 286;
+    Macaulay  XII 55;
+    Rebellion (1642)  XII 41
+
+  English Constitution, The  XII 88
+
+  ----, Letters on the  XIX 275
+
+  ---- Literature, History of  XX 298
+
+  ---- Poets, Lectures on the  XX 169
+
+  ---- Traits  XX 109
+
+  Eothen  XIV 159
+
+  EPICTETUS  =XIII= 358
+
+  Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems of Martial  XVII 295
+
+  ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS  =XX= 126 _seq._
+
+  ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN  =IV= 97
+
+  Essay on Liberty  XX 248
+
+  ---- on Man  XVIII 94
+
+  Essays in Criticism  XX 18
+
+  ---- in Eugenics  XV 111
+
+  ---- of Montaigne  XIV 64
+
+  ---- Moral and Political  XIV 13
+
+  Ethics of Aristotle  XIII 291
+
+  ---- of Spinoza  XIV 160
+
+  Eugene Aram  VI 87
+
+  Eugenie Grandet  I 188
+
+  EURIPIDES  =XVI= 336
+
+  Europe:
+    History of Civilisation in  XI 241;
+    in Middle Ages  XI 255;
+    Literature of  XX 158
+
+  Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie  XVII 241
+
+  Evelina  II 150
+
+  EVELYN, JOHN  =IX= 213
+
+  EVERYMAN  =XVI= 348
+
+  Every Man in His Humour  XVII 195
+
+  Evolution of Man, The  XV 123
+
+  Existence of God, The  XIII 117
+
+  Experimental Researches in Electricity  XV 75
+
+
+  Fables of AEsop  XX 10
+
+  Familiar Colloquies  XX 126
+
+  FARADAY, MICHAEL  =XV= 75 _seq._
+
+  Fathers and Sons  VIII 245
+
+  Faust  XVI 362
+
+  Faustus, Tragical History of Dr.  XVII 282
+
+  Felix Holt, The Radical  IV 45
+
+  FENELON, DE LA MOTHE  =XIII= 117
+
+  Ferdinand and Isabella, Reign of  XII 271
+
+  Festus: A Poem  XVI 86
+
+  FEUILLET, OCTAVE  =IV= 100
+
+  FIELDING, HENRY  =IV= 122 _seq._
+
+  Figaro, The Marriage of XVI
+
+  File No. 113  IV 192
+
+  FINLAY, GEORGE  =XII= 206
+
+  FLAMMARION, CAMILLE  =IV= 168
+
+  FLETCHER; See BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
+
+  FOREL, AUGUSTE  =XV= 95
+
+  FORSTER, JOHN  =IX= 225
+
+  FOUQUE, DE LA MOTTE  =IV= 180
+
+  FOX, GEORGE,  =IX= 238
+
+  Fragments of an Intimate Diary  IX 13
+
+  France, History of:
+    Girondists  XII 165;
+    Louis XIV,  XII 101;
+    Modern Regime  XII 177;
+    Old Regime  XII 117;
+    Revolution (Burke)  XIV 212, (Carlyle)  XII 147, (Mignet)  XII 129;
+    see also (Memoirs, etc.) La Rochefoucauld, Mirabeau, de Staal,
+          de Sevigne, etc.
+
+  ----, Travels in  XIX 327
+
+  ---- and Italy, Sentimental Journey Through  XIX 263
+
+  Frankenstein  VIII 41
+
+  FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN  =IX= 247
+
+  Frederick the Great  XII 188
+
+  FREEMAN, EDWARD A.  =XI= 298
+
+  Friendship, Concerning  XX 70
+
+  Frogs, The  XVI 72
+
+  FROUDE, JAMES ANTHONY  =XI= 315
+
+  Future of War, The  XIV 199
+
+
+  GABORIAU, EMILE  =IV= 192
+
+  GALILEO GALILEI  =XIII= 129;  =XV= 105
+
+  Gallic War, Caesar's Commentaries on the  XI 144
+
+  GALT, JOHN  =IV= 204
+
+  GALTON, SIR FRANCIS  =XV= 111
+
+  Garden of Allah, The  V 73
+
+  Gargantua and Pantagruel  VII 54
+
+  GASKELL, MRS.  =IV= 215 _seq._;  IX 259
+
+  Geoffry Hamlyn  V 306
+
+  Geology, Principles of XV
+
+  GEORGE, HENRY  =XIV= 238
+
+  Germania  XX 286
+
+  Germany, On  XX 276
+
+  GESTA ROMANORUM  =XX= 140
+
+  GIBBON, EDWARD  =IX= 272 (Memoirs);  =XI= 174 _seq._;  XI 229
+
+  Gil Blas  VI 14
+
+  Girondists, History of the  XII 165
+
+  GODWIN, WILLIAM  =IV= 241
+
+  GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON  =IV= 253 _seq._;  IX 283 _seq._;  XVI 362;
+         XVII 1 _seq._
+
+  Goetz von Berlichingen  XVII 1
+
+  GOGOL, NICOLAI  =XVII= 30
+
+  Golden Ass, The  I 45
+
+  GOLDSMITH, OLIVER  =IV= 275 _seq._;  XVII 39;  XX 149
+
+  GONCOURT, EDMOND and JULES DE  =IV= 289
+
+  Goetterdaemmerung  XVIII 336
+
+  Grace Abounding  IX 79
+
+  Grammont, Memoirs of the Count de  IX 324
+
+  GRANT, JAMES  =IV= 301
+
+  GRAY, MAXWELL  =V= 1
+
+  GRAY, THOMAS  =IX= 315
+
+  Great Expectations  III 106
+
+  ---- Lone Land, The  XIX 79
+
+  Greece, History of  XI 81 _seq._;
+    (modern)  XII 206
+
+  GRIFFIN, GERALD  =V= 13
+
+  GROTE, GEORGE  =XI= 122
+
+  GUIZOT, FRANCOIS PIERRE GUILLAME  =XI= 241
+
+  Gulliver's Travels  VIII 157
+
+  Guy Mannering  VII 255
+
+
+  HABBERTON, JOHN  =V= 26
+
+  HAECKEL, ERNST  =XV= 123
+
+  Hajji Baba of Ispahan, The Adventures of  VI 276
+
+  HAKLUYT, RICHARD  =XIX= 148
+
+  HALEVY, LUDOVIC  =V= 38
+
+  HALLAM, HENRY  =XI= 255;  XX 158
+
+  HAMILTON, ANTHONY  =IX= 324
+
+  Hamlet  XVIII 170
+
+  Handy Andy  VI 75
+
+  Hard Cash  VII 68
+
+  ---- Times  III 118
+
+  HARVEY, WILLIAM  =XV= 136
+
+  HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL  =V= 50 _seq._;  IX 336
+
+  HAZLITT, WILLIAM  =XX= 169
+
+  Headlong Hall  VII 1
+
+  Heart of Midlothian, The  VII 267
+
+  Heaven and Hell  XIII 249
+
+  HEGEL, GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH  =XIII= 138;  XIV 1
+
+  HEINE, HEINRICH  =XVII= 50
+
+  Helen's Babies  V 26
+
+  Henry Masterton  V 187
+
+  Hereward the Wake  V 248
+
+  Hernani  XVII 110
+
+  HERODOTUS  =XI= 81
+
+  Heroes and Hero Worship, On  XX 50
+
+  HERSCHEL, SIR JOHN  =XV= 146
+
+  Hesperus  VII 143
+
+  Hiawatha, The Song of  XVII 250
+
+  HICHENS, ROBERT  =V= 73
+
+  HINDUISM, BOOKS OF  =XIII= 150
+
+  History, Philosophy of,  XIV 1
+
+  ---- of Philosophy  XIV 45
+
+  ---- of the Caliph Vathek  I 244
+
+  HOBBES, THOMAS  =XIV= 249
+
+  HOLINSHED, RAPHAEL  =XI= 286
+
+  Holland: See Dutch Republic and United Netherlands
+
+  HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL  =V= 87;  XX 181
+
+  Holy Roman Empire, History of  XI 229;
+    see also Papacy
+
+  ---- War, The  II 124
+
+  HOMER  =XVII= 66 _seq._
+
+  HORACE (Q. HORATIUS FLACCUS)  =XVII= 91
+
+  House of the Seven Gables, The  V 60
+
+  Household of Sir Thomas More, The  VI 155
+
+  Hudibras  XVI 177
+
+  HUGHES, THOMAS  =V= 99 _seq._
+
+  Hugo, Victor  =V= 122 _seq._;  =X= 1;  XVII 110 _seq._
+
+  HUMBOLDT, ALEXANDER VON  =XV= 158
+
+  HUME, DAVID  =XIV= 13
+
+  HUME, MARTIN  =X= 13
+
+  HUTTON, JAMES  =XV= 170
+
+  HYDE, EDWARD (Earl of Clarendon)  =XII= 41
+
+  Hypatia  V 260
+
+  Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory  XV 1
+
+
+  IBSEN, HENRIK  =XVII= 171 _seq._
+
+  Idylls of the King  XVIII 261
+
+  Iliad, The  XVII 66
+
+  Imaginary Conversations  XX 203
+
+  Imitation of Christ, The  XIII 160
+
+  Improvisatore, The  I 30
+
+  INCHBALD, MRS. (ELIZABETH)  =V= 174
+
+  India, History of:  XII 246;
+    Religion: see BRAHMANISM, HINDUISM
+
+  In God's Way  I 287
+
+  ---- Memoriam  XVIII 277
+
+  ---- Praise of Folly  XX 132
+
+  Insects, Senses of  XV 95
+
+  Inspector General, The  XVII 30
+
+  Institution of the Christian Religion  XIII 75
+
+  Introduction to the Literature of Europe  XX 158
+
+  Iphigenia in Tauris  XVII 18
+
+  Ironmaster, The  VI 314
+
+  IRVING, WASHINGTON  =X= 41
+
+  It Is Never Too Late To Mend  VII 79
+
+  Ivanhoe  VII 280
+
+
+  JAMES, G. P. R.  =V= 187
+
+  Jane Eyre  II 54
+
+  Jerusalem Delivered  XVIII 250
+
+  Jesus, Life of  XIII 231
+
+  Jews:
+    History and Antiquities of  XI 43 _seq._;
+    Religion (TALMUD)  XIII 259
+
+  John Halifax, Gentleman  II 312
+
+  JOHNSON, SAMUEL  =V= 199;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 37
+
+  JOKAI, MAURICE  =V= 212
+
+  Jonathan Wild  IV 133
+
+  JONSON, BEN  =XVII= 195
+
+  Joseph Andrews  IV 143
+
+  JOSEPHUS, FLAVIUS  =X= 61;  XI 43
+
+  Joshua Davidson  VI 63
+
+  Journal of George Fox  IX 238
+
+  ---- of the Plague Year, A  XX 90
+
+  ---- to Stella  X 282
+
+  ---- of a Tour to the Hebrides  XIX 37
+
+  ---- of John Wesley  X 327
+
+  ---- of John Woolman  X 341
+
+  Journey Round My Room, A  VI 136
+
+  JUVENAL  =XVII= 207
+
+
+  KANT, IMMANUEL  =XIV= 24 _seq._
+
+  KEMPIS, THOMAS A  =XIII= 160
+
+  Kenilworth  VII 293
+
+  KERNAHAN, COULSON  =V= 224
+
+  King Amuses Himself, The  XVII 145
+
+  ---- of the Mountains, The  I 1
+
+  KINGLAKE, A. W.  =XIX= 159
+
+  KINGSLEY, CHARLES  =V= 236 _seq._
+
+  ----, Henry  V 306
+
+  KLOPSTOCK, FRIEDRICH GOTTLIEB  =XVII= 217
+
+  Knights, The  XVI 79
+
+  KORAN, THE  =XIII= 169
+
+
+  LA BRUYERE  =XX= 193
+
+  Lady Audley's Secret  II 27
+
+  ---- of the Lake, The  XVIII 160
+
+  LAMARCK, JEAN BAPTISTE  =XV= 179
+
+  LAMARTINE, A. M. L. DE  =XII= 165
+
+  LAMB, CHARLES and MARY  =XVIII= 170
+
+  LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE  =XX= 203
+
+  LANE-POOLE, STANLEY  =XI= 272
+
+  Laocoon  XX 239
+
+  LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, FRANCOIS DUC DE  =X= 203 (Memoirs);  XX 215
+
+  Last of the Barons, The  VI 113
+
+  ---- of the Mohicans, The  II 285
+
+  ---- Days of Pompeii, The  VI 99
+
+  LAVATER, JOHANN  =XV= 191
+
+  Lavengro  II 1
+
+  Laws, The Spirit of  XIV 306
+
+  LAYARD, AUSTEN HENRY  =XIX= 171
+
+  Lazarillo de Tormes  VI 217
+
+  Lectures on the English Poets  XX 169
+
+  LE FANU, SHERIDAN  =VI= 1
+
+  Legend of the Ages, The  XVII 159
+
+  Legislation, Principles of Morals and  XIV 186
+
+  LEONARDO DA VINCI  =XX= 227
+
+  LE SAGE, RENE  =VI= 14
+
+  LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM  =XVII= 226;  XX 239
+
+  Letters of Abelard and Heloise  IX 1
+
+  ---- of Cicero  IX 155
+
+  ---- on the English  XIX 275
+
+  ---- of Thomas Gray  IX 315
+
+  ---- to His Son, Lord Chesterfield's  IX 144
+
+  ---- of Pliny the Younger  X 166
+
+  ---- to a Provincial  XIII 209
+
+  ---- of Mme. de Sevigne  X 216
+
+  ---- Written in the Years 1782-86  IX 177
+
+  ---- to Zelter  IX 283
+
+  ---- and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Carlyle's  IX 99
+
+  LEVER, CHARLES  =VI= 26 _seq._
+
+  Leviathan, The  XIV 249
+
+  LEWES, GEORGE HENRY  =XIV= 45
+
+  LEWES, M. G.  =VI= 51
+
+  Liar, The  XVI 279
+
+  Liberty, Essay on  XX 248
+
+  LIEBIG, JUSTUS VON  =XV= 203
+
+  Life, Prolongation of  XV 246
+
+  Life of Thomas Arnold  X 260
+
+  ---- of Saint Bernard  X 135
+
+  ---- of Robert Burns  X 86
+
+  ---- of Charlotte Bronte  IX 259
+
+  ---- of Lord Byron  X 122
+
+  ---- of Cobden  X 144
+
+  ---- of Christopher Columbus  X 41
+
+  ---- of Queen Elizabeth  X 270
+
+  ---- of Goldsmith  IX 225
+
+  ---- of Jesus  XIII 231
+
+  ---- of Dr. Johnson  IX 37
+
+  ---- of Nelson  X 226
+
+  ---- of Sir Isaac Newton  IX 66
+
+  ---- of Pitt  X 248
+
+  ---- of Girolamo Savonarola  X 312
+
+  ---- of Schiller  IX 111
+
+  ---- of Sir Walter Scott  X 70
+
+  ---- of George Washington  X 51
+
+  LINNAEUS, CAROLUS  =XIX= 181
+
+  LINTON, MRS. LYNN  =VI= 63
+
+  Literature, History of English  XX 298
+
+  ----, Main Currents of 19th Century  XX 31
+
+  ---- of Europe, Introduction to the  XX 158
+
+  ----: see also M. ARNOLD, HAZLITT, etc.
+
+  Little Dorrit  III 131
+
+  LIVINGSTONE, DAVID  =XIX= 191
+
+  LOCKE, JOHN  =XIV= 56
+
+  LOCKHART, JOHN GIBSON  =X= 70
+
+  LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH  =XVII= 241 _seq._
+
+  Looking Backward  XIV 173
+
+  Lorna Doone  I 313
+
+  LORRIS and DE MEUN, DE  =XVIII= 117
+
+  Lost Sir Massingberd  VI 336
+
+  LOTI, PIERRE  =XIX= 201
+
+  Louis XIV, The Age of  XII 101
+
+  Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots, The  X 27
+
+  ---- Letters of Abelard and Heloise  IX 1
+
+  LOVER, SAMUEL  =VI= 75
+
+  LUCRETIUS  =XVII= 261
+
+  LUTHER, MARTIN  =X= 102
+
+  LYELL, SIR CHARLES  =XV= 215
+
+  LYTTON, EDWARD BULWER  =VI= 87 _seq._
+
+
+  MACAULAY, LORD  =XII= 55
+
+  Macbeth  XVIII 180
+
+  MACHIAVELLI, NICCOLO  =XIV= 261
+
+  MACKENZIE, HENRY  =VI= 124
+
+  MACPHERSON, JAMES  =XVII= 272
+
+  Magic Skin, The  I 213
+
+  Magnetism, Treatise on Electricity and  XV 227
+
+  Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature  XX 31
+
+  MAISTRE, XAVIER DE  =VI= 136
+
+  MALORY, SIR THOMAS  =VI= 145
+
+  MALTHUS, T. R.  =XIV= 270
+
+  Man, Essay on  XVIII 94
+
+  ----, Evolution of  XV 123
+
+  ----, Nature of  XV 238
+
+  ----, The Rights of  XIV 324
+
+  ---- of Feeling, The  VI 124
+
+  ---- Who Laughs, The  V 162
+
+  MANDEVILLE, SIR JOHN  =XIX= 210
+
+  MANNING, ANNE  =VI= 155
+
+  Mansfield Park  I 150
+
+  Mansie Wauch  VI 262
+
+  MANZONI, ALESSANDRO  =VI= 169
+
+  Marguerite de Valois  III 269
+
+  Marion de Lorme  XVII 123
+
+  MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER  =XVII= 282
+
+  Marmion  XVIII 147
+
+  Marriage of Figaro, The  XVI 116
+
+  MARRYAT, CAPTAIN  =VI= 181 _seq._
+
+  MARTIAL  =XVII= 295
+
+  Martin Chuzzlewit  III 143
+
+  Mary Barton  IV 228
+
+  ---- Queen of Scots, Love Affairs of  X 27
+
+  MARX, KARL  =XIV= 282
+
+  MASPERO, GASTON  =XI= 1 _seq._
+
+  MASSINGER, PHILIP  =XVII= 305
+
+  Master Builder, The  XVII 171
+
+  MATURIN, CHARLES  =VI= 205
+
+  Mauprat  VII 217
+
+  MAXWELL, JAMES CLERK  =XV= 227
+
+  Mayor of Zalamea, The  XVI 206
+
+  Melancholy, Anatomy of XX
+
+  Melmoth the Wanderer  VI 205
+
+  Memoirs of Alexander Dumas  IX 201
+
+  ---- from Beyond the Grave  IX 134
+
+  ---- of the Count de Grammont  IX 324
+
+  ---- of the Duc De La Rochefoucauld  X 203
+
+  ---- of Edward Gibbon  IX 272
+
+  ---- of Mirabeau  X 111
+
+  ---- of Mme. de Staal  X 238
+
+  Men, Representative  XX 118;
+    see also PLUTARCH, etc.
+
+  MENDOZA, DIEGO DE  =VI= 217
+
+  Merchant of Venice  XVIII 186
+
+  MEREJKOWSKI, DMITRI  =VI= 227
+
+  MERIMEE, PROSPER  =VI= 239
+
+  Messiah, The  XVII 217
+
+  Metamorphoses  XVIII 64
+
+  METCHNIKOFF, ELIE  =XV= 238 _seq._
+
+  Mexico, History of the Conquest of  XII 19
+
+  Middle Ages: History, see Vol XI
+
+  ----, GESTA ROMANORUM: A Story-book of the  XX 140
+
+  Midshipman Easy, Mr.  VI 181
+
+  Midsummer Night's Dream, A  XVIII 196
+
+  MIGNET, FRANCOIS  =XII= 129
+
+  MILL, JOHN STUART  =XIV= 294;  XX 248
+
+  Mill on the Floss, The  IV 85
+
+  MILLER, HUGH  =XV= 255
+
+  MILMAN, HENRY  =XI= 68;  XII 289
+
+  MILTON, JOHN  =XVII= 319;  XX 257
+
+  MIRABEAU, HONORE GABRIEL COMTE DE  =X= 111
+
+  Misanthrope, The  XVIII 1
+
+  Miserables, Les  V 122
+
+  Missionary Travels and Researches  XIX 191
+
+  MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL  =VI= 251
+
+  Modern Regime  XII 177
+
+  MOIR, DAVID  =VI= 262
+
+  MOLIERE  =XVII= 362;  XVIII 1 _seq._
+
+  MOMMSEN, THEODOR  =XI= 215
+
+  MONTAIGNE  =XIV= 64
+
+  Monte Cristo, The Count of  III 304
+
+  MONTESQUIEU  =XIV= 306
+
+  MOORE, THOMAS  =X= 122
+
+  Moral Maxims, Reflections and  XX 215
+
+  Morals and Legislation, Principles of  XIV 186
+
+  MORE, SIR THOMAS  =XIV= 315;
+    "Household of"  VI 155
+
+  MORIER, JAMES  =VI= 276
+
+  MORISON, J. A. C.  =X= 135
+
+  MORLEY, JOHN  =X= 144
+
+  Morte D'Arthur  VI 145
+
+  MOTLEY, JOHN LOTHROP  =XII= 220 _seq._
+
+  Mourning Bride, The  XVI 246
+
+  MURRAY, DAVID CHRISTIE  =VI= 288
+
+  My Confession (Tolstoy)  X 301
+
+  Mysteries of Paris, The  VIII 143
+
+
+  Nathan the Wise  XVII 226
+
+  Natural History  XV 12
+
+  Nature  XIII 349
+
+  ---- of Man  XV 238
+
+  ---- of Things, On the  XVII 261
+
+  Nelson, Life of  X 226
+
+  Nest of Nobles, A  VIII 259
+
+  Never Too Late to Mend  VII 79
+
+  New Heloise, The  VII 176
+
+  ---- Voyage Around the World, A  XIX 112
+
+  ---- Way to Pay Old Debts, A  XVII 305
+
+  Newcomes, The  VIII 169
+
+  NEWMAN, CARDINAL  =XIII= 185
+
+  NEWTON, SIR ISAAC  =XV= 267
+
+  NIBELUNGENLIED  =XVIII= 38;
+    see also WAGNER (Nibelungen Ring)
+
+  Nicholas Nickleby  III 154
+
+  Nightmare Abbey  VII 15
+
+  Nineveh and Its Remains  XIX 171
+
+  No Name  II 249
+
+  Norman Conquest of England. The  XI 298
+
+  NORRIS, FRANK  =VI= 301
+
+  Northanger Abbey  I 138
+
+  Notre Dame de Paris  V 133
+
+
+  Odes of Horace  XVI 102
+
+  ---- of Pindar  XVIII 75
+
+  Odyssey, The  XVII 78
+
+  OHNET, GEORGES  =VI= 314
+
+  Old Curiosity Shop, The  III 179
+
+  ---- Goriot  I 200
+
+  ---- Mortality  VII 306
+
+  ---- Red Sandstone, The  XV 255
+
+  ---- Regime  XII 117
+
+  Oliver Twist  III 166
+
+  On Benefits  XIV 109
+
+  ---- Germany  XX 276
+
+  ---- Heroes and Hero Worship  XX 50
+
+  ---- the Height 193
+
+  ---- the Motion of the Heart and Blood  XV 136
+
+  ---- the Nature of Things  XVII 261
+
+  ---- the Principle of Population  XIV 270
+
+  Origin of Species, The  XV 43
+
+  Orlando Furioso  XVI 51
+
+  Oroonoko: The Royal Slave  I 255
+
+  Ossian  XVII 272
+
+  OTWAY, THOMAS  =XVIII= 48
+
+  OUIDA (LOUISE DE LA RAMEE)  =VI= 326
+
+  Our Mutual Friend  III 190
+
+  ---- Old Home  IX 336
+
+  ---- Village  VI 251
+
+  Outlines of Astronomy  XV 146
+
+  OVID  =XVIII= 64
+
+  OWEN, SIR RICHARD  =XV= 280
+
+
+  PAINE, THOMAS  =XIII= 196;  XIV 324
+
+  Painting, Treatise on  XX 227
+
+  Pamela  VII 106
+
+  Papacy, History of:  XII 289 _seq._;
+    see also Holy Roman Empire
+
+  Papers of the Forest School-Master  VII 165
+
+  Paradise Lost  XVII 319
+
+  ---- Regained  XVII 342
+
+  Paradiso  XVI 314
+
+  Parallel Lives  XX 266
+
+  PARK, MUNGO  =XIX= 219
+
+  PASCAL, BLAISE  =XIII= 209
+
+  Passing of the Empire, The  XI 30
+
+  Paul and Virginia  VII 192
+
+  PAYN, JAMES  =VI= 336
+
+  PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE  =VII= _seq._
+
+  Peloponnesian War  XI 95
+
+  PENN, WILLIAM  =XIII= 222
+
+  PEPYS, SAMUEL  =X= 154
+
+  Peregrine Pickle  VIII 76
+
+  Persians, The  XVI 28
+
+  Persuasion  I 174
+
+  Peru, History of the Conquest of  XII 30
+
+  Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man  II 212
+
+  ---- Simple  VI 193
+
+  Peveril of the Peak  VII 318
+
+  Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding  XVI 133
+
+  Philippics, The  XX 99
+
+  Philosophy, A History of  XIV 45
+
+  ---- of History, The  XIV 1
+
+  ---- of Religion, The  XIII 138
+
+  Physiognomical Fragments  XV 191
+
+  Pickwick Papers  III 201
+
+  Pilgrim's Progress, The  II 136
+
+  Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah, A  XIX 67
+
+  Pillars of Society, The  XVII 186
+
+  PINDAR  =XVIII= 75
+
+  Pit, The  VI 301
+
+  Pitt, Life of William  X 248
+
+  Plague Year, Journal of the  XX 90
+
+  PLATO  =XIV= 75 _seq._
+
+  PLINY, THE YOUNGER  =X= 166
+
+  PLUTARCH  =XX= 266
+
+  Poems of Catullus  XVI 219
+
+  ---- of Horace  XVII 91
+
+  ---- of Martial  XVII 295
+
+  Poetry and Truth from my Own Life  IX 291
+
+  ----: see also Laocoon, Literature, etc.
+
+  Poets, Lectures on the English  XX 169
+
+  Political Testament of Cardinal Richelieu  X 178
+
+  ---- Economy, Principles of  XIV 294
+
+  POLO, MARCO  =XIX= 229
+
+  POPE, ALEXANDER  =XVIII= 94
+
+  Popes, History of the: See Papacy
+
+  Population, On the Principle of  XIV 270
+
+  PORTER, JANE  =VII= 28
+
+  Positive Philosophy, A Course of  XIV 224
+
+  PRESCOTT, WILLIAM HICKLING  =XII= 19 _seq._;  XII 271
+
+  Pride and Prejudice  I 123
+
+  Prince, The  XIV 261
+
+  Principall Navigations, The  XIV 148
+
+  Principia  XV 267
+
+  Principles of Biology  XIV 133
+
+  ---- of Geology, The  XV 215
+
+  ---- of Human Knowledge  XIII 329
+
+  ---- of Morals and Legislation  XIV 186
+
+  ---- of Political Economy  XIV 294
+
+  ---- of Sociology  XIV 145
+
+  Progress and Poverty  XIV 238
+
+  Prolongation of Life  XV 246
+
+  Prometheus Bound  XVI 38
+
+  Purgatorio  XVI 307
+
+  PUSHKIN, ALEXANDER SERGEYVITCH  =VII= 42
+
+
+  Quentin Durward  VIII 1
+
+  Quest of the Absolute, The  I 227
+
+
+  RABELAIS, FRANCOIS  =VII= 54
+
+  RACINE, JEAN  =XVIII= 106
+
+  RANKE, LEOPOLD VON  =XII= 301
+
+  Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia  V 199
+
+  Ravenshoe  V 319
+
+  READE, CHARLES  =VII= 68 _seq._
+
+  Reflections and Moral Maxims  XX 215
+
+  ---- on the Revolution in France  XIV 212
+
+  Religio Medici  XIII 66
+
+  RENAN, ERNEST  =XIII= 231
+
+  Renee Mauperin  IV 289
+
+  Representative Men  XX 118
+
+  Republic, Plato's  XIV 84
+
+  Revolt of Islam, The  XVIII 214
+
+  Rheingold  XVIII 305
+
+  RICHARDSON, SAMUEL  =VII= 106 _seq._
+
+  RICHELIEU, CARDINAL  =X= 178
+
+  RICHTER, JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH  =VII= 143 _seq._
+
+  Rights of Man, The  =XIV= 324
+
+  Robinson Crusoe  III 26
+
+  Rob Roy  VIII 13
+
+  Rochefoucauld: See LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
+
+  Roderick Random  VIII 64
+
+  Romance of a Poor Young Man  IV 110
+
+  ROMANCE OF THE ROSE  =XVIII= 117
+
+  Romany Rye, The  II 13
+
+  Rome, History of  XI 144 _seq._
+
+  Romeo and Juliet  XVIII 203
+
+  Romola  IV 58
+
+  ROSSEGGER, PETER  =VII= 165
+
+  ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES  =VII= 176;  =X= 190 (Confessions);  XIV 337
+
+  Russia Under Peter the Great  XII 259
+
+  Ruy Blas  XVII 134
+
+
+  SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE  =VII= 192;  XIX 241
+
+  Saints' Everlasting Rest, The  XIII 37
+
+  Salathiel, or Tarry Thou Till I Come  II 324
+
+  SALLUST, CAIUS CRISPUS  =XI= 168
+
+  Samson Agonistes  XVII 349
+
+  Samuel Brohl and Company  II 235
+
+  SAND, GEORGE  =VII= 205 _seq._
+
+  Sandford and Merton  III 14
+
+  Sartor Resartus  XX 61
+
+  Satires of Juvenal  XVII 207
+
+  ---- of Horace  XVI 91
+
+  ----: see also ERASMUS, GOLDSMITH, etc.
+
+  Savonarola, Life of Girolamo  X 312
+
+  Scarlet Letter, The  V 50
+
+  SCHILLER, FRIEDRICH VON  =XVIII= 129;
+    "Life of"  =IX= 111
+
+  SCHLIEMANN, HEINRICH  =XI= 132
+
+  School for Scandal, The  XVIII 226
+
+  ---- for Wives, The  XVIII 14
+
+  SCHOPENHAUER, ARTHUR  =XIV= 99
+
+  SCOTT, MICHAEL  =VII= 229
+
+  SCOTT, SIR WALTER  =VII= 241 _seq._;  VIII 1 _seq._;  XVIII 147 _seq._;
+    "Life of"  =X= 70
+
+  Scottish Chiefs, The  VII 28
+
+  SENECA, L. ANNAEUS  =XIV= 109
+
+  Sense and Sensibility  I 109
+
+  Senses of Insects, The  XV 95
+
+  Sentimental Journey through France and Italy  XIX 263
+
+  SEVIGNE, Mme. DE  =X= 216
+
+  Shadow of the Sword, The  II 111
+
+  SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM  =XVIII= 170 _seq._
+
+  SHELLEY, MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT  =VIII= 41
+
+  SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE  =XVIII= 214
+
+  SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY  =XVIII= 226
+
+  She Stoops to Conquer  XVII 39
+
+  Shirley  II 71
+
+  SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP  =VIII= 54
+
+  Siegfried  XVIII 327
+
+  Silas Marner  IV 73
+
+  Silence of Dean Maitland, The  V 1
+
+  Simple Story, A  V 174
+
+  Sir Charles Grandison  VII 130
+
+  SMITH, ADAM  =XIV= 350
+
+  Smoke  VIII 272
+
+  SMOLLETT, TOBIAS  =VIII= 64 _seq._
+
+  Social Contract, The  XIV 337
+
+  Sociology, Principles of  XIV 145
+
+  Socrates, Apology or Defence of  XIV 75
+
+  Some Fruits of Solitude  XIII 222
+
+  SOPHOCLES  =XVIII= 237
+
+  Sorrows of Young Werther  IV 253
+
+  SOUTHEY, ROBERT  =X= 226
+
+  Spain: (Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella)  XII 271
+
+  Spectator, The  XX 1
+
+  SPEKE, JOHN HANNING  =XIX= 251
+
+  SPENCER, HERBERT  =XIV= 120 _seq._
+
+  SPINOZA, BENEDICT DE  =XIV= 160
+
+  Spirit of Laws, The  XIV 306
+
+  Spy, The  II 297
+
+  STAAL, Mme. DE  =X= 238
+
+  STAEL, Mme. DE  =VIII= 89;  XX 276
+
+  STANHOPE, EARL  =X= 248
+
+  STANLEY, ARTHUR PENRHYN  =X= 260
+
+  STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE)  =VIII= 103
+
+  STERNE, LAURENCE  VIII 117;  =XIX= 263
+
+  STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER  =VIII= 130
+
+  Stafford  XVI 165
+
+  STRICKLAND, AGNES  =X= 270
+
+  Struggle of the Nations, The  XI 20
+
+  SUE, EUGENE  =VIII= 143
+
+  Surface of the Globe, The  XV 33
+
+  Sweden (History of Charles XII)  XII 280
+
+  SWEDENBORG, EMANUEL  =XIII= 249
+
+  SWIFT, JONATHAN  =VIII= 157;  X 282
+
+  Sybil, or The Two Nations  III 243
+
+
+  Table Talk by Martin Luther  X 102
+
+  TACITUS, PUBLIUS CORNELIUS  =XI= 156;  XX 286
+
+  TAINE, HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE  =XII= 177;  XX 298
+
+  Tale of Two Cities  III 213
+
+  Tales from Shakespeare  XVIII 170
+
+  Talisman, The  VIII 25
+
+  TALMUD, THE  =XIII= 259
+
+  Tancred  III 256
+
+  Tartarin of Tarascon  III 1
+
+  Tartuffe  XVIII 29
+
+  Task, The  XVI 290
+
+  TASSO, TORQUATO  =XVIII= 250
+
+  TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD  =XVIII= 261 _seq._
+
+  THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE  =VIII= 169 _seq._
+
+  Theory of the Earth  XV 170
+
+  THOMSON, JAMES  =XVIII= 293
+
+  THOREAU, HENRY DAVID  =XX= 312
+
+  Three Musketeers, The  III 316
+
+  THUCYDIDES  =XI= 95
+
+  Timar's Two Worlds  V 212
+
+  Timbuctoo the Mysterious  XIX 136
+
+  Titan  VII 152
+
+  TOCQUEVILLE, DE  =XII= 117;  XX 324
+
+  Toilers of the Sea, The  V 146
+
+  TOLSTOY, COUNT  =VIII= 205;  =X= 291 _seq._ (Confession, etc.)
+
+  Tom Brown's Schooldays  V 99
+
+  Tom Brown at Oxford  V 110
+
+  ---- Burke of Ours  VI 39
+
+  ---- Cringle's Log  VII 229
+
+  ---- Jones  IV 155
+
+  Tour in Lapland, A  XIX 181
+
+  Tower of London  I 17
+
+  Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The XVII
+
+  Travels on the Amazon  XIX 285
+
+  ---- to Discover the Source of the Nile  XIX 47
+
+  Travels in France  XIX 327
+
+  ---- in the Interior of Africa  XIX 219
+
+  ---- of Marco Polo  XIX 229
+
+  ---- in Nubia  XIX 57
+
+  Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, A  XV 227
+
+  ---- on Painting  XX 227
+
+  Tristram Shandy  VIII 117
+
+  TROLLOPE, ANTHONY  =VIII= 221 _seq._
+
+  Troy and Its Remains  XI 32
+
+  TURGENEV, IVAN  =VIII= 245 _seq._
+
+  Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea  VIII 287
+
+  ---- Years After  III 331
+
+  Two Years Ago  V 270
+
+  ---- before the Mast  II 335
+
+
+  Uncle Silas  VI 1
+
+  ---- Tom's Cabin  VIII 130
+
+  Under Two Flags  VI 326
+
+  Undine  IV 180
+
+  United Netherlands, History of the  XII 234
+
+  ---- States, History of  XII 1;
+    see also America
+
+  Urania  IV 168
+
+  Utopia: Nowhereland  XIV 315
+
+
+  Valkyrie  XVIII 316
+
+  Vanity Fair  VIII 192
+
+  Venice Preserved  XVIII 48
+
+  VERNE, JULES  =VIII= 287
+
+  Vertebrates, Anatomy of  XV 280
+
+  Vestiges of Creation  XV 22
+
+  Vicar of Wakefield, The  IV 175
+
+  View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages  XI 155
+
+  VILLARI, PASQUALE  =X= 312
+
+  Villette  II 83
+
+  VINCI, LEONARDO DA  =XX= 227
+
+  VIRCHOW, RUDOLF  =XV= 292
+
+  Virginians, The  VIII 181
+
+  VOLTAIRE  =XII= 101;  XII 259;  XII 280;  XIX 275
+
+  Von Ranke: see RANKE, VON
+
+  Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle, The  XIX 124
+
+  ---- to the Isle of France  XIX 241
+
+  Voyage to the Moon, A  I 265
+
+  ---- and Travel  XIX 210
+
+  Voyages Round the World  XIX 100
+
+
+  WAGNER, WILHELM RICHARD  =XVIII= 305 _seq._
+
+  Walden  XX 312
+
+  WALLACE, ALFRED RUSSELL  =XIX= 285
+
+  WALPOLE, HORACE  =VIII= 303
+
+  WALTON, ISAAK  =XX= 334
+
+  Wanderings in South America  XIX 313
+
+  War, The Future of  XIV 199
+
+  WARBURTON, ELIOT  =XIX= 299
+
+  Warden, The  VIII 221
+
+  Wars of the Jews  XI 55
+
+  Washington, Life of George  X 51
+
+  Water-Babies  V 282
+
+  Waterloo  IV 97
+
+  WATERTON, CHARLES  =XIX= 313
+
+  Way of the World, The  VI 288
+
+  ---- ---- ---- ----, The  XVI 253
+
+  Wealth of Nations, The  XIV 350
+
+  Werther, Sorrows of Young  IV 253
+
+  WESLEY, JOHN  =X= 327
+
+  Westward Ho!  V 294
+
+  Wild North Land, The  XIX 89
+
+  ---- Wales  XIX 13
+
+  Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship  IV 263
+
+  William Tell  XVIII 129
+
+  Woman in White, The  II 262
+
+  WOOLMAN, JOHN  =X= 341
+
+  World as Will and Idea, The  XIV 99
+
+  Wuthering Heights  II 97
+
+
+  XENOPHON  =XI= 110
+
+
+  YOUNG, ARTHUR  =XIX= 327
+
+
+  Zelter, Goethe's Letters to  IX 283
+
+  ZOLA, EMILE  =VIII= 318
+
+  Zoological Philosophy  XV 179
+
+  ZOROASTRIANISM  =XIII= 76
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+
+The Index in this eBook uses Roman numerals to reference all twenty
+volumes of this series. Most of those volumes are available at no
+charge from Project Gutenberg:
+
+ VOLUME  PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
+     I:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471
+    II:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643
+   III:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748
+    IV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921
+     V:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993
+    VI:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180
+   VII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527
+  VIII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659
+    IX:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059
+     X:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572
+    XI:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745
+   XII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845
+  XIII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620
+   XIV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009
+    XV:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509
+   XVI:  not available when this eBook was produced
+  XVII:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640
+ XVIII:  not available when this eBook was produced
+   XIX:  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998
+    XX:  this volume
+
+Links to those volumes have been included for use on devices that
+support them. The links are to the volumes, not to the specific pages.
+
+Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
+preference was found for the same author in this book; otherwise they
+were not changed.
+
+Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
+quotation marks corrected in simple situations, otherwise unchanged.
+
+Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
+
+Editor's comments at the beginning of each Chapter originally were
+printed at the bottom of the page, but have been repositioned here to
+appear just below the Chapter titles.
+
+This eBook contains references to other volumes in this series, most of
+which are available at no charge from Project Gutenberg:
+
+Page 49: "corollory" was printed that way.
+
+Page 80: "than an hours spent" was printed that way.
+
+Page 148: "perserver" may be a misprint for "preserver".
+
+Page 163: "Circeronianus" was printed that way.
+
+Page 346: "I enjoyed it an turned" probably is a misprint for "and".
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX
+-- Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX ***
+
+***** This file should be named 44704.txt or 44704.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/7/0/44704/
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+  www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
+North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
+contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
+Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/44704.zip b/old/44704.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb0a143
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/44704.zip