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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 & 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—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.)</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,—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—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."</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 +—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—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.—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—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<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—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.</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—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.—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—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—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.</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—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.</p> + +<h4><i>III.—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—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—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.</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—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—as a sort of companion +and clue—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.—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—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,<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.—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—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.—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—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—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.—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—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.—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. 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.—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.—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.—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—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."</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.—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.—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—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.—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.—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.—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—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.—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—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—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.—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—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.—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—<i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Inferno</i>, <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Purgatorio</i>, <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Paradiso</i>—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—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.—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—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—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.—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—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—a wild +wrestling with the truth of things.</p> + +<h4><i>VI.—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—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—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—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>—"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.</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 +1833–34, is Thomas Carlyle's most popular work, and is largely +autobiographical.</p></blockquote> + +<h3><i>I.—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—"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.—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—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—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—"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.—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?—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—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—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—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—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—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?</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—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.</p></blockquote> + +<h4><i>I.—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.—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.—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—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.</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.—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—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.—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—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.—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—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.—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—"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.—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—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.—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—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.—"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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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.—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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.—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—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—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—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—Folly—am the sole purveyor.</p> + +<h4><i>II.—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.—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.—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—their dice, their cards, and their gambling—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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 1760–61, 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.—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—three in the Spanish peninsula, the +French, the Italian, the German, and the English.</p> + +<h4><i>II.—The Fifteenth Century</i></h4> + +<p>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.</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.—The Sixteenth Century (1500–1550)</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.—The Sixteenth Century (1550–1600)</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 1593–94. 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.—The Seventeenth Century (1600–1650)</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—the greatest name in all literature—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—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.—The Seventeenth Century (1650–1700)</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"—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.</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), 1828–30. 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—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.</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—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<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—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—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—and but one or two—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—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—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—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—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—five—six—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—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—<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—<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—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—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—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.)</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—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.</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—the smaller tribes always in front—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—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—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."</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—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.—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—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.—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.—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.—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—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.</p></blockquote> + +<h4><i>I.—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—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—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—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—hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some +pickled sturgeon, and some krout and caviar.</p> + +<h4><i>II.—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—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.—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—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—"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.—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—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—my duty +urged me <em>then</em>—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.—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—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.</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—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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!—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—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.</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—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—namely, +from above—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—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<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—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—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—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—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.—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.—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—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.—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.—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—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—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—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—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.—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—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.—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—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.—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—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.—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—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.—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—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.—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—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—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.—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—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.—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.—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.—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.—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—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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<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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—my +withdrawing room—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—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—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.—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.—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.—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.—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.—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—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.—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—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—I pray let me speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span> +it without offence—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—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—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—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—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—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—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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 38<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Abélard and Héloïse</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">About, Edmond</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Adam Bede <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 33<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Addison, Joseph</span> <b>XVI</b> 1; XX <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /></li> +<li>Advancement of Learning, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 321<br /></li> +<li>Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 41<br /></li> +<li>Advice to Young Men XX <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Æschylus</span> <b>XVI</b> 16 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Æsop</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /></li> +<li>Africa: see Vol. <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a><br /></li> +<li>Agamemnon, The XVI 16<br /></li> +<li>Age of Reason, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 196<br /></li> +<li>Aids to Reflection <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 84<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ainsworth, Harrison</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 17<br /></li> +<li>Albert N'Yanza, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Alcestis XVI 336<br /></li> +<li>Alice's Adventures in Wonderland <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 176<br /></li> +<li>All for Love XVI 322<br /></li> +<li>Alton Locke <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 236<br /></li> +<li>Ambrosio, or the Monk <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 51<br /></li> +<li>Amelia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 122<br /></li> +<li id="america">America, History of:<br /> + <ul> + <li>Mexico <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 19;</li> + <li>Peru <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 30;</li> + <li>United States <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>——, Democracy in XX <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /></li> +<li>——, Wanderings in South <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 313<br /></li> +<li>Anabasis, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 110<br /></li> +<li>Anatomy of Melancholy, The XX <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /></li> +<li>—— of Vertebrates <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 280<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Andersen, Hans Christian</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 30<br /></li> +<li>Angler, The Complete XX <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /></li> +<li>Animal Chemistry <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 203<br /></li> +<li>Anna Karenina <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 205<br /></li> +<li>Annals of the Parish <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 204<br /></li> +<li>—— of Tacitus <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 156<br /></li> +<li>Antigone XVIII 237<br /></li> +<li>Antiquary, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 241<br /></li> +<li>Antiquities of the Jews <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 43<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Apocrypha, The</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Apologia Pro Vita Sua <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 185<br /></li> +<li>Apology, or Defence of Socrates <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 75<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Apuleius</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 45<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Arabian Nights</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 61<br /></li> +<li>Arcadia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 54<br /></li> +<li>Areopagitica XX <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ariosto, Ludovico</span> <b>XVI</b> 51<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Aristophanes</span> <b>XVI</b> 64 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Aristotle</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 291<br /></li> +<li>Arne <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 274<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Arnold, Matthew</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /></li> +<li id="arnold">Arnold, Life of Thomas <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 260<br /></li> +<li>Astronomy, Outlines of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 146<br /></li> +<li>Atala <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 224<br /></li> +<li>Atta Troll <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 50<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Aucassin and Nicolette</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 79<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Auerbach, Berthold</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 93<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Augustine, Saint</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 24; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 29<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Aurelius (Marcus Aurelius Antoninus)</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 307<br /></li> +<li>Aurora Leigh XVI 144<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Austen, Jane</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 109 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Authority of Scripture, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 129<br /></li> +<li>Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 91<br /></li> +<li>Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini <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>—— of Benjamin Franklin <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 247<br /></li> +<li>—— of Flavius Josephus <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 61<br /></li> +<li>Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The XX <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Bacon, Francis</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 321<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bagehot, Walter</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 88<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bailey, Philip James</span> <b>XVI</b> 86<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Baker, Sir Samuel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Balzac, Honoré de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 188 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Barber of Seville, The XVI 101<br /></li> +<li>Barchester Towers <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 233<br /></li> +<li>Barnaby Rudge <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 53<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Baxter, Richard</span> <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> <b>XVI</b> 101 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li id="beaumont"><span class="smcap">Beaumont and Fletcher</span> <b>XVI</b> 133<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Beckford, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 244<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Behn, Aphra</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 255<br /></li> +<li>Belinda <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 13<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bellamy, Edward</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 173<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bentham, Jeremy</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 186<br /></li> +<li>Bérénice XVIII 106<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bergerac, Cyrano de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 265<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Berkeley, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 329<br /></li> +<li>Bernard, Life of Saint <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 135<br /></li> +<li>Betrothed, The <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 22<br /></li> +<li>Biographia Literaria <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 166<br /></li> +<li>Biology, Principles of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 133<br /></li> +<li>Birds, The XVI 64<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Björnson, Björnstjerne</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 300<br /></li> +<li>Black Prophet, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 164<br /></li> +<li>—— Tulip, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 281<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Blackmore, R. D.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 313<br /></li> +<li>Bleak House <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 66<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bloch, Jean</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 199<br /></li> +<li>Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A XVI 154<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Boccaccio, Giovanni</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471"><b>I</b></a> 327<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Book of the Dead</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 47<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Borrow, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 1 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 13 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Boswell, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 37; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 37<br /></li> +<li>Bothwell <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 301<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Braddon</span>, M. E. <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") <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 59<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bramwell, John Milne</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Brandes, George</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Brewster, Sir Davis</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 66<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Brontë, Charlotte</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 54 <i>seq.</i>;<br /> + <ul> + <li>"Life of" <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 259</li> + </ul></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Brontë, Emily</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 97<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Browne, Sir Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 66<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Browning, Elizabeth Barrett</span> <b>XVI</b> 144<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Browning, Robert</span> <b>XVI</b> 154 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bruce, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 47<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Buchanan, Robert</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 111<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Buckle, Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 76<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Buffon, Comte de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 12<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bunyan, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 124 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 79<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burckhardt, John Lewis</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 57<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burke, Edmund</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 212<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burney, Fanny</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 150<br /></li> +<li>Burns, Life of Robert <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 86<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burton, Robert</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_41">41</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burton, Sir Richard</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 67<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Butler, Samuel</span> <b>XVI</b> 177<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Butler, Sir William</span> <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> <b>XVI</b> 188 <i>seq.</i>;<br /> + <ul> + <li>"Life of" <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 122</li> + </ul></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Cæsar, Julius</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 144<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Calderon de la Barca</span> <b>XVI</b> 206<br /></li> +<li>Caleb Williams <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 241<br /></li> +<li>Caliph Vathek, History of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 244<br /></li> +<li>Called Back <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 274<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Calvin, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 75<br /></li> +<li>Canterbury Tales, The XVI 226<br /></li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span>Capital: A Critical Analysis <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 282<br /></li> +<li>Captain's Daughter, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 42<br /></li> +<li>Captain Singleton <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 41<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Carleton, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 164<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Carlyle, Alexander</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 91<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Carlyle, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 99; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 147; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 188; XX <a href="#Page_50">50</a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Carmen <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 239<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Carroll, Lewis</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 176<br /></li> +<li>Castle of Otranto <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 303<br /></li> +<li>—— Rackrent <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 21<br /></li> +<li>Catiline, Conspiracy of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 168<br /></li> +<li>Cato: A Tragedy XVI 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Catullus, Gaius Valerius</span> <b>XVI</b> 219<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cellini, Benvenuto</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 120<br /></li> +<li>Cellular Pathology <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 292<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cervantes, Miguel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 198<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chambers, Robert</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 22<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chamisso, Adalbert Von</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 212<br /></li> +<li>Characters XX <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /></li> +<li>Charles XII, History of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 280<br /></li> +<li>—— O'Malley <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 26<br /></li> +<li>Chartreuse of Parma, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 103<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chateaubriand, François René Vicomte de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 224; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 124<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chaucer, Geoffrey</span> <b>XVI</b> 226<br /></li> +<li>Chemical History of a Candle, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 85<br /></li> +<li>—— Philosophy, Elements of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 64<br /></li> +<li>Chemistry, Animal <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 203<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cherbuliez, Charles Victor</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 235<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chesterfield, Earl of</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 144<br /></li> +<li>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage XVI 188<br /></li> +<li>Childhood, Boyhood, Youth <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 160<br /></li> +<li>Christian Religion, Institution of the <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 286<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cicero, Marcus Tullius</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 155; XX <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /></li> +<li>Cid, The XVI 267<br /></li> +<li>Citizen of the World, The XX <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /></li> +<li>City of Dreadful Night, The XVIII 293<br /></li> +<li>—— of God, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 29<br /></li> +<li>Civilisation in Europe, History of <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 118<br /></li> +<li>Cloister and the Hearth, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 92<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cobbett, William</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_78">78</a><br /></li> +<li>Cobden, Life of Richard <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 144<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Coleridge, Samuel Taylor</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 166; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 84<br /></li> +<li>Collegians, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 13<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Collins, Wilkie</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 249 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Columbus, Life of Christopher <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 41<br /></li> +<li>Commentaries on the Gallic War <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 144<br /></li> +<li>Complete Angler, The XX <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Comte, Auguste</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 244<br /></li> +<li>Concerning Friendship XX <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /></li> +<li>—— the Human Understanding <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 56<br /></li> +<li>Confessions, My (Count Tolstoy) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 301<br /></li> +<li>—— of Augustine <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 24<br /></li> +<li>—— of an English Opium Eater <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 189<br /></li> +<li>—— of Jean Jacques Rousseau <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 190<br /></li> +<li id="conf"><span class="smcap">Confucianism</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 93<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Congreve, William</span> <b>XVI</b> 246 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Coningsby <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 227<br /></li> +<li>Conspiracy of Catiline, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 168<br /></li> +<li>Consuelo <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 205<br /></li> +<li>Conversations with Eckerman <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 303<br /></li> +<li>——, Imaginary XX <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Conway, Hugh</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 274<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cook, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 100<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cooper, Fenimore</span> <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 89<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Corneille, Pierre</span> <b>XVI</b> 267 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Corsican Brothers, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 292<br /></li> +<li>Cosmos, A Sketch of the Universe <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 158<br /></li> +<li>Count of Monte Cristo, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 304<br /></li> +<li>Courtships of (Queen) Elizabeth, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 13<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cowper, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 177; XVI 290<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Craik, Mrs.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 312<br /></li> +<li>Cranford <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 215<br /></li> +<li>Creation, Vestiges of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 22<br /></li> +<li>Crescent and the Cross, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 299<br /></li> +<li>Critique of Practical Reason <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 34<br /></li> +<li>—— of Pure Reason <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 24<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Croly, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 324<br /></li> +<li>Cromwell, Letters and Speeches of Oliver <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 33<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Dampier, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 112<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dana, Richard Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643"><b>II</b></a> 335<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dante Alighieri</span> <b>XVI</b> 300 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Darwin, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 43; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 124<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Daudet, Alphonse</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Daughter of Heth, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 300<br /></li> +<li>David Copperfield <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 79<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Da Vinci, Leonardo</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Davy, Sir Humphry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 64<br /></li> +<li>Dawn of Civilisation, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Day, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 14<br /></li> +<li>Dead Man's Diary, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 224<br /></li> +<li>Death of the Gods, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 227<br /></li> +<li>Decameron, The, or Ten Days' Entertainment <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 327<br /></li> +<li>Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 174 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 229<br /></li> +<li>Deeds and Words <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Defoe, Daniel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 26 <i>seq.</i>; XX <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /></li> +<li>Democracy in America XX <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Demosthenes</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">De Quincey, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 189<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Descartes, René</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 337<br /></li> +<li>Desert, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 201<br /></li> +<li>Dialogues on the System of the World <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 105<br /></li> +<li>Diary of John Evelyn <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 213<br /></li> +<li>—— of Samuel Pepys <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 154<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dickens, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 53 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Discourse on Method <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 337<br /></li> +<li>Discourses and Encheiridion (Epictetus) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 358<br /></li> +<li>—— with Himself (M. Aurelius) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 307<br /></li> +<li>Discovery of the Source of the Nile <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 251<br /></li> +<li id="disraeli"><span class="smcap">Disraeli, Benjamin</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 227 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Divine Comedy, The XVI 300 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Doctor in Spite of Himself, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 362<br /></li> +<li>Dombey and Son <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 94<br /></li> +<li>Don Juan XVI 197<br /></li> +<li>—— Quixote, Life and Adventures of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 198<br /></li> +<li>Drink <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 318<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dryden, John</span> <b>XVI</b> 322<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dubois, Félix</span> <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>) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748"><b>III</b></a> 269 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 201 (Memoirs)<br /></li> +<li id="dutch">Dutch Republic, Rise of the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 220<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Earth, Theory of the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 170<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ebers, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Eckerman, Goethe's Conversations with <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 303<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Edgeworth, Maria</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 13 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Education <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 120<br /></li> +<li>Egypt:<br /> + <ul> + <li>Ancient History <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 1 <i>seq.</i>;</li> + <li>Mediæval History <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 272;</li> + <li>Religion <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 47</li> + </ul></li> +<li>Egyptian Princess, An <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Electricity, Experimental Researches in <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 75<br /></li> +<li>—— and Magnetism, Treatise on <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 227<br /></li> +<li>Elements of Chemical Philosophy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 64<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Eliot, George</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Elizabeth, Queen:<br /> + <ul> + <li>Courtships <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 13;</li> + <li>"Life" <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 246<br /></li> +<li>Elsie Venner <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 87<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Emerson, Ralph Waldo</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 349; XX <a href="#Page_109">109</a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Emma <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 162<br /></li> +<li>England, History of:<br /> + <ul> + <li>Buckle <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 76;</li> + <li>Freeman <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 298;</li> + <li>Froude <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 315;</li> + <li>Holinshed <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 286;</li> + <li>Macaulay <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 55;</li> + <li>Rebellion (1642) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 41</li> + </ul></li> +<li>English Constitution, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 88<br /></li> +<li>——, Letters on the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 275<br /></li> +<li>—— Literature, History of XX <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /></li> +<li>—— Poets, Lectures on the XX <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li> +<li>—— Traits XX <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /></li> +<li>Eothen <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 159<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Epictetus</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 358<br /></li> +<li>Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems of Martial <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 295<br /></li> +<li id="eras"><span class="smcap">Erasmus, Desiderius</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_126">126</a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Erckmann-Chatrian</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 97<br /></li> +<li>Essay on Liberty XX <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /></li> +<li>—— on Man XVIII 94<br /></li> +<li>Essays in Criticism XX <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /></li> +<li>—— in Eugenics <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 111<br /></li> +<li>—— of Montaigne <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 64<br /></li> +<li>—— Moral and Political <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 13<br /></li> +<li>Ethics of Aristotle <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 291<br /></li> +<li>—— of Spinoza <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 160<br /></li> +<li>Eugene Aram <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 87<br /></li> +<li>Eugénie Grandet <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 188<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Euripides</span> <b>XVI</b> 336<br /></li> +<li>Europe:<br /> + <ul> + <li>History of Civilisation in <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 241;</li> + <li>in Middle Ages <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 255;</li> + <li>Literature of XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> + </ul></li> +<li>Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 241<br /></li> +<li>Evelina <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 150<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Evelyn, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 213<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Everyman</span> <b>XVI</b> 348<br /></li> +<li>Every Man in His Humour <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 195<br /></li> +<li>Evolution of Man, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 123<br /></li> +<li>Existence of God, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 117<br /></li> +<li>Experimental Researches in Electricity <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 75<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Fables of Æsop XX <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /></li> +<li>Familiar Colloquies XX <a href="#Page_126">126</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Faraday, Michael</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 75 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Fathers and Sons <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 245<br /></li> +<li>Faust XVI 362<br /></li> +<li>Faustus, Tragical History of Dr. <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 282<br /></li> +<li>Felix Holt, The Radical <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 45<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fénelon, de la Mothe</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 117<br /></li> +<li>Ferdinand and Isabella, Reign of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 271<br /></li> +<li>Festus: A Poem XVI 86<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Feuillet, Octave</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 100<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fielding, Henry</span> <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 192<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Finlay, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 206<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Flammarion, Camille</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 95<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Forster, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 225<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fouqué, de la Motte</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 180<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fox, George</span>, <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 238<br /></li> +<li>Fragments of an Intimate Diary <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 13<br /></li> +<li>France, History of:<br /> + <ul> + <li>Girondists <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 165;</li> + <li>Louis XIV, <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 101;</li> + <li>Modern Régime <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 177;</li> + <li>Old Régime <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 117;</li> + <li>Revolution (Burke) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 212, (Carlyle) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 147, (Mignet) <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>——, Travels in <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 327<br /></li> +<li>—— and Italy, Sentimental Journey Through <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 263<br /></li> +<li>Frankenstein <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 41<br /></li> +<li id="frank"><span class="smcap">Franklin, Benjamin</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 247<br /></li> +<li>Frederick the Great <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 188<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Freeman, Edward A.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 298<br /></li> +<li>Friendship, Concerning XX <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /></li> +<li>Frogs, The XVI 72<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Froude, James Anthony</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 315<br /></li> +<li>Future of War, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 199<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Gaboriau, Émile</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 129; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 105<br /></li> +<li>Gallic War, Cæsar's Commentaries on the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 144<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Galt, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 204<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Galton, Sir Francis</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 111<br /></li> +<li>Garden of Allah, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 73<br /></li> +<li>Gargantua and Pantagruel <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 54<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gaskell, Mrs.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 215 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 259<br /></li> +<li>Geoffry Hamlyn <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 306<br /></li> +<li>Geology, Principles of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">George, Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 238<br /></li> +<li>Germania XX <a href="#Page_286">286</a><br /></li> +<li>Germany, On XX <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gibbon, Edward</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 272 (Memoirs); <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 174 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 229<br /></li> +<li>Gil Blas <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 14<br /></li> +<li>Girondists, History of the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 165<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Godwin, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 241<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Goethe, Johann Wolfgang Von</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 253 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 283 <i>seq.</i>; XVI 362; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 1 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Goetz von Berlichingen <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gogol, Nicolai</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 30<br /></li> +<li>Golden Ass, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 45<br /></li> +<li id="gold"><span class="smcap">Goldsmith, Oliver</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 275 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 39; XX <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Goncourt, Edmond</span> and <span class="smcap">Jules de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 289<br /></li> +<li>Götterdämmerung XVIII 336<br /></li> +<li>Grace Abounding <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 79<br /></li> +<li>Grammont, Memoirs of the Count de <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 324<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Grant, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921"><b>IV</b></a> 301<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gray, Maxwell</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gray, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 315<br /></li> +<li>Great Expectations <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 106<br /></li> +<li>—— Lone Land, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 79<br /></li> +<li>Greece, History of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 81 <i>seq.</i>;<br /> + <ul> + <li>(modern) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 206</li> + </ul></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Griffin, Gerald</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 13<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Grote, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 122<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Guizot, François Pierre Guillame</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 241<br /></li> +<li>Gulliver's Travels <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 157<br /></li> +<li>Guy Mannering <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 255<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Habberton, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 26<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Haeckel, Ernst</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 123<br /></li> +<li>Hajji Baba of Ispahan, The Adventures of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 276<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hakluyt, Richard</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 148<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Halevy, Ludovic</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 38<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hallam, Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 255; XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hamilton, Anthony</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 324<br /></li> +<li>Hamlet XVIII 170<br /></li> +<li>Handy Andy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 75<br /></li> +<li>Hard Cash <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 68<br /></li> +<li>—— Times <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 118<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Harvey, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 136<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hawthorne, Nathaniel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 50 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 336<br /></li> +<li id="hazlitt"><span class="smcap">Hazlitt, William</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li> +<li>Headlong Hall <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Heart of Midlothian, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 267<br /></li> +<li>Heaven and Hell <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 249<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 138; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Heine, Heinrich</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 50<br /></li> +<li>Helen's Babies <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 26<br /></li> +<li>Henry Masterton <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 187<br /></li> +<li>Hereward the Wake <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 248<br /></li> +<li>Hernani <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 110<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Herodotus</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 81<br /></li> +<li>Heroes and Hero Worship, On XX <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Herschel, Sir John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 146<br /></li> +<li>Hesperus <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 143<br /></li> +<li>Hiawatha, The Song of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 250<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hichens, Robert</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 150<br /></li> +<li>History, Philosophy of, <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>—— of Philosophy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 45<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Caliph Vathek <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 244<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hobbes, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 249<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Holinshed, Raphael</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 87; XX <a href="#Page_181">181</a><br /></li> +<li id="holy">Holy Roman Empire, History of <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>—— War, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 124<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Homer</span> <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>) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 91<br /></li> +<li>House of the Seven Gables, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 60<br /></li> +<li>Household of Sir Thomas More, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 155<br /></li> +<li>Hudibras XVI 177<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hughes, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 99 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Hugo, Victor <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 122 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 1; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 110 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Humboldt, Alexander Von</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 158<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hume, David</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 13<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hume, Martin</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 13<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hutton, James</span> <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) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 41<br /></li> +<li>Hypatia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 260<br /></li> +<li>Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 1<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Ibsen, Henrik</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 171 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Idylls of the King XVIII 261<br /></li> +<li>Iliad, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 66<br /></li> +<li>Imaginary Conversations XX <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /></li> +<li>Imitation of Christ, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 160<br /></li> +<li>Improvisatore, The <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>) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 174<br /></li> +<li>India, History of: <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 287<br /></li> +<li>—— Memoriam XVIII 277<br /></li> +<li>—— Praise of Folly XX <a href="#Page_132">132</a><br /></li> +<li>Insects, Senses of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 95<br /></li> +<li>Inspector General, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 30<br /></li> +<li>Institution of the Christian Religion <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 75<br /></li> +<li>Introduction to the Literature of Europe XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /></li> +<li>Iphigenia in Tauris <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 18<br /></li> +<li>Ironmaster, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 314<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Irving, Washington</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 41<br /></li> +<li>It Is Never Too Late To Mend <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 79<br /></li> +<li>Ivanhoe <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 280<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">James, G. P. R.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 187<br /></li> +<li>Jane Eyre <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 54<br /></li> +<li>Jerusalem Delivered XVIII 250<br /></li> +<li>Jesus, Life of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 231<br /></li> +<li>Jews:<br /> + <ul> + <li>History and Antiquities of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 43 <i>seq.</i>;</li> + <li>Religion (<span class="smcap">Talmud</span>) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 259</li> + </ul></li> +<li>John Halifax, Gentleman <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 312<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Johnson, Samuel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 199;<br /> + <ul> + <li>"Life of" <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 37</li> + </ul></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jokai, Maurice</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 212<br /></li> +<li>Jonathan Wild <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 133<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jonson, Ben</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 195<br /></li> +<li>Joseph Andrews <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 143<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Josephus, Flavius</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 61; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 43<br /></li> +<li>Joshua Davidson <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 63<br /></li> +<li>Journal of George Fox <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 238<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Plague Year, A XX <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /></li> +<li>—— to Stella <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 282<br /></li> +<li>—— of a Tour to the Hebrides <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 37<br /></li> +<li>—— of John Wesley <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 327<br /></li> +<li>—— of John Woolman <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 341<br /></li> +<li>Journey Round My Room, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 136<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Juvenal</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 207<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Kant, Immanuel</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 160<br /></li> +<li>Kenilworth <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 293<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kernahan, Coulson</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 224<br /></li> +<li>King Amuses Himself, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 145<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Mountains, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kinglake, A. W.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 159<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kingsley, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993"><b>V</b></a> 236 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>——, Henry <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 306<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 217<br /></li> +<li>Knights, The XVI 79<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Koran, The</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 169<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">La Bruyère</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /></li> +<li>Lady Audley's Secret <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 27<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Lake, The XVIII 160<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lamarck, Jean Baptiste</span> <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> <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> <b>XVIII</b> 170<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Landor, Walter Savage</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lane-Poole, Stanley</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 272<br /></li> +<li id="laoc">Laocoon XX <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br /></li> +<li id="roch"><span class="smcap">La Rochefoucauld, François Duc de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 203 (Memoirs); XX <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /></li> +<li>Last of the Barons, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 113<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Mohicans, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 285<br /></li> +<li>—— Days of Pompeii, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 99<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lavater, Johann</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 191<br /></li> +<li>Lavengro <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Laws, The Spirit of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 306<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Layard, Austen Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 171<br /></li> +<li>Lazarillo de Tormes <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 217<br /></li> +<li>Lectures on the English Poets XX <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Le Fanu, Sheridan</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Legend of the Ages, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 159<br /></li> +<li>Legislation, Principles of Morals and <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 186<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Leonardo da Vinci</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Le Sage, René</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 14<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 226; XX <a href="#Page_239">239</a><br /></li> +<li>Letters of Abélard and Héloïse <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>—— of Cicero <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 155<br /></li> +<li>—— on the English <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 275<br /></li> +<li>—— of Thomas Gray <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 315<br /></li> +<li>—— to His Son, Lord Chesterfield's <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 144<br /></li> +<li>—— of Pliny the Younger <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 166<br /></li> +<li>—— to a Provincial <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 209<br /></li> +<li>—— of Mme. de Sévigné <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 216<br /></li> +<li>—— Written in the Years 1782–86 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 177<br /></li> +<li>—— to Zelter <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 283<br /></li> +<li>—— and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Carlyle's <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 99<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lever, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 26 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Leviathan, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 249<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lewes, George Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 45<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lewes, M. G.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 51<br /></li> +<li>Liar, The XVI 279<br /></li> +<li>Liberty, Essay on XX <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Liebig, Justus Von</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 203<br /></li> +<li>Life, Prolongation of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 246<br /></li> +<li>Life of Thomas Arnold <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 260<br /></li> +<li>—— of Saint Bernard <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 135<br /></li> +<li>—— of Robert Burns <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 86<br /></li> +<li>—— of Charlotte Brontë <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 259<br /></li> +<li>—— of Lord Byron <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 122<br /></li> +<li>—— of Cobden <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 144<br /></li> +<li>—— of Christopher Columbus <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 41<br /></li> +<li>—— of Queen Elizabeth <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 270<br /></li> +<li>—— of Goldsmith <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 225<br /></li> +<li>—— of Jesus <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 231<br /></li> +<li>—— of Dr. Johnson <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 37<br /></li> +<li>—— of Nelson <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 226<br /></li> +<li>—— of Sir Isaac Newton <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 66<br /></li> +<li>—— of Pitt <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 248<br /></li> +<li>—— of Girolamo Savonarola <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 312<br /></li> +<li>—— of Schiller <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 111<br /></li> +<li>—— of Sir Walter Scott <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 70<br /></li> +<li>—— of George Washington <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 51<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Linnaeus, Carolus</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 181<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Linton, Mrs. Lynn</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 63<br /></li> +<li id="lit">Literature, History of English XX <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /></li> +<li>——, Main Currents of 19th Century XX <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /></li> +<li>—— of Europe, Introduction to the XX <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /></li> +<li>——: 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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 131<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Livingstone, David</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 191<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Locke, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 56<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lockhart, John Gibson</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 70<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 241 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Looking Backward <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 173<br /></li> +<li>Lorna Doone <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> <b>XVIII</b> 117<br /></li> +<li>Lost Sir Massingberd <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 336<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Loti, Pierre</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 201<br /></li> +<li>Louis XIV, The Age of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 101<br /></li> +<li>Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots, The <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>—— Letters of Abélard and Héloïse <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 1<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lover, Samuel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 75<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lucretius</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 261<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Luther, Martin</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 102<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lyell, Sir Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 215<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lytton, Edward Bulwer</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 55<br /></li> +<li>Macbeth XVIII 180<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Machiavelli, Niccolo</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 261<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mackenzie, Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 124<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Macpherson, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 272<br /></li> +<li>Magic Skin, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 213<br /></li> +<li>Magnetism, Treatise on Electricity and <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 227<br /></li> +<li>Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature XX <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Maistre, Xavier De</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 136<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Malory, Sir Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 145<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Malthus, T. R.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 270<br /></li> +<li>Man, Essay on XVIII 94<br /></li> +<li>——, Evolution of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 123<br /></li> +<li>——, Nature of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 238<br /></li> +<li>——, The Rights of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 324<br /></li> +<li>—— of Feeling, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 124<br /></li> +<li>—— Who Laughs, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 162<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mandeville, Sir John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 210<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Manning, Anne</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 155<br /></li> +<li>Mansfield Park <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 150<br /></li> +<li>Mansie Wauch <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 262<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Manzoni, Alessandro</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 169<br /></li> +<li>Marguerite de Valois <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 269<br /></li> +<li>Marion de Lorme <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 123<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Marlowe, Christopher</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 282<br /></li> +<li>Marmion XVIII 147<br /></li> +<li>Marriage of Figaro, The XVI 116<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Marryat, Captain</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 181 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Martial</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 295<br /></li> +<li>Martin Chuzzlewit <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 143<br /></li> +<li>Mary Barton <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 228<br /></li> +<li>—— Queen of Scots, Love Affairs of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 27<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Marx, Karl</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 282<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Maspero, Gaston</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 305<br /></li> +<li>Master Builder, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 171<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Maturin, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 205<br /></li> +<li>Mauprat <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 217<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Maxwell, James Clerk</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 227<br /></li> +<li>Mayor of Zalamea, The XVI 206<br /></li> +<li>Melancholy, Anatomy of XX<br /></li> +<li>Melmoth the Wanderer <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 205<br /></li> +<li>Memoirs of Alexander Dumas <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 201<br /></li> +<li>—— from Beyond the Grave <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 134<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Count de Grammont <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 324<br /></li> +<li>—— of the Duc De La Rochefoucauld <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 203<br /></li> +<li>—— of Edward Gibbon <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 272<br /></li> +<li>—— of Mirabeau <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 111<br /></li> +<li>—— of Mme. de Staal <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 238<br /></li> +<li>Men, Representative 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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 217<br /></li> +<li>Merchant of Venice XVIII 186<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Merejkowski, Dmitri</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 227<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mérimée, Prosper</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 239<br /></li> +<li>Messiah, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 217<br /></li> +<li>Metamorphoses XVIII 64<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Metchnikoff, Elie</span> <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 <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>——, <span class="smcap">Gesta Romanorum</span>: A Story-book of the XX <a href="#Page_140">140</a><br /></li> +<li>Midshipman Easy, Mr. <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 181<br /></li> +<li>Midsummer Night's Dream, A XVIII 196<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mignet, François</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 129<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mill, John Stuart</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 294; XX <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /></li> +<li>Mill on the Floss, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 85<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Miller, Hugh</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 255<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Milman, Henry</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 68; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 289<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Milton, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 319; XX <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /></li> +<li id="mir"><span class="smcap">Mirabeau, Honoré Gabriel Comte de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 111<br /></li> +<li>Misanthrope, The XVIII 1<br /></li> +<li>Misérables, Les <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 191<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mitford, Mary Russell</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 251<br /></li> +<li>Modern Régime <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 177<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Moir, David</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 262<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Molière</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640"><b>XVII</b></a> 362; XVIII 1 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mommsen, Theodor</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 215<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Montaigne</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 64<br /></li> +<li>Monte Cristo, The Count of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 304<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Montesquieu</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 306<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Moore, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 122<br /></li> +<li>Moral Maxims, Reflections and XX <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /></li> +<li>Morals and Legislation, Principles of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 186<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">More, Sir Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 315;<br /> + <ul> + <li>"Household of" <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 155</li> + </ul></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Morier, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 276<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Morison, J. A. C.</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 135<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Morley, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 144<br /></li> +<li>Morte D'Arthur <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 145<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Motley, John Lothrop</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 220 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Mourning Bride, The XVI 246<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Murray, David Christie</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 288<br /></li> +<li>My Confession (Tolstoy) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 301<br /></li> +<li>Mysteries of Paris, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 143<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Nathan the Wise <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 226<br /></li> +<li>Natural History <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 12<br /></li> +<li>Nature <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 349<br /></li> +<li>—— of Man <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 238<br /></li> +<li>—— of Things, On the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 261<br /></li> +<li>Nelson, Life of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 226<br /></li> +<li>Nest of Nobles, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 259<br /></li> +<li>Never Too Late to Mend <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 79<br /></li> +<li>New Héloïse, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 176<br /></li> +<li>—— Voyage Around the World, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 112<br /></li> +<li>—— Way to Pay Old Debts, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 305<br /></li> +<li>Newcomes, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 169<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Newman, Cardinal</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 185<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Newton, Sir Isaac</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 267<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Nibelungenlied</span> <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 154<br /></li> +<li>Nightmare Abbey <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 15<br /></li> +<li>Nineveh and Its Remains <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 171<br /></li> +<li>No Name <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 249<br /></li> +<li>Norman Conquest of England. The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 298<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Norris, Frank</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 301<br /></li> +<li>Northanger Abbey <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 138<br /></li> +<li>Notre Dame de Paris <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 133<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Odes of Horace XVI 102<br /></li> +<li>—— of Pindar XVIII 75<br /></li> +<li>Odyssey, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 78<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ohnet, Georges</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 314<br /></li> +<li>Old Curiosity Shop, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 179<br /></li> +<li>—— Goriot <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 200<br /></li> +<li>—— Mortality <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 306<br /></li> +<li>—— Red Sandstone, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 255<br /></li> +<li>—— Régime <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 117<br /></li> +<li>Oliver Twist <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 166<br /></li> +<li>On Benefits <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 109<br /></li> +<li>—— Germany XX <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /></li> +<li>—— Heroes and Hero Worship XX <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /></li> +<li>—— the Height 193<br /></li> +<li>—— the Motion of the Heart and Blood <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 136<br /></li> +<li>—— the Nature of Things <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 261<br /></li> +<li>—— the Principle of Population <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 270<br /></li> +<li>Origin of Species, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 43<br /></li> +<li>Orlando Furioso XVI 51<br /></li> +<li>Oroonoko: The Royal Slave <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 255<br /></li> +<li>Ossian <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 272<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Otway, Thomas</span> <b>XVIII</b> 48<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ouida</span> (<span class="smcap">Louise de la Ramée</span>) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 326<br /></li> +<li>Our Mutual Friend <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 190<br /></li> +<li>—— Old Home <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 336<br /></li> +<li>—— Village <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 251<br /></li> +<li>Outlines of Astronomy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 146<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ovid</span> <b>XVIII</b> 64<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Owen, Sir Richard</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 280<br /></li> +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Paine, Thomas</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 196; <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 XX <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li> +<li>Pamela <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 106<br /></li> +<li id="papacy">Papacy, History of: <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 165<br /></li> +<li>Paradise Lost <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 319<br /></li> +<li>—— Regained <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 342<br /></li> +<li>Paradiso XVI 314<br /></li> +<li>Parallel Lives XX <a href="#Page_266">266</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Park, Mungo</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 219<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pascal, Blaise</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 209<br /></li> +<li>Passing of the Empire, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 30<br /></li> +<li>Paul and Virginia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 192<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Payn, James</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180"><b>VI</b></a> 336<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Peacock, Thomas Love</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Peloponnesian War <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 95<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Penn, William</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 222<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pepys, Samuel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 154<br /></li> +<li>Peregrine Pickle <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 76<br /></li> +<li>Persians, The XVI 28<br /></li> +<li>Persuasion <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 174<br /></li> +<li>Peru, History of the Conquest of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 30<br /></li> +<li>Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 212<br /></li> +<li>—— Simple <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 193<br /></li> +<li>Peveril of the Peak <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 318<br /></li> +<li>Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding XVI 133<br /></li> +<li>Philippics, The XX <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /></li> +<li>Philosophy, A History of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 45<br /></li> +<li>—— of History, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>—— of Religion, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 138<br /></li> +<li>Physiognomical Fragments <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 191<br /></li> +<li>Pickwick Papers <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 201<br /></li> +<li>Pilgrim's Progress, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 136<br /></li> +<li>Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 67<br /></li> +<li>Pillars of Society, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 186<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pindar</span> <b>XVIII</b> 75<br /></li> +<li>Pit, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 301<br /></li> +<li>Pitt, Life of William <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 248<br /></li> +<li>Plague Year, Journal of the XX <a href="#Page_90">90</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Plato</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 166<br /></li> +<li id="plutarch1"><span class="smcap">Plutarch</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_266">266</a><br /></li> +<li>Poems of Catullus XVI 219<br /></li> +<li>—— of Horace <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 91<br /></li> +<li>—— of Martial <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 295<br /></li> +<li>Poetry and Truth from my Own Life <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 291<br /></li> +<li>——: see also <a href="#laoc">Laocoon</a>, <a href="#lit">Literature</a>, etc.<br /></li> +<li>Poets, Lectures on the English XX <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /></li> +<li>Political Testament of Cardinal Richelieu <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 178<br /></li> +<li>—— Economy, Principles of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 294<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Polo, Marco</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 229<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pope, Alexander</span> <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 270<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Porter, Jane</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 28<br /></li> +<li>Positive Philosophy, A Course of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 224<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Prescott, William Hickling</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 19 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 271<br /></li> +<li>Pride and Prejudice <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 123<br /></li> +<li>Prince, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 261<br /></li> +<li>Principall Navigations, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 148<br /></li> +<li>Principia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 267<br /></li> +<li>Principles of Biology <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 133<br /></li> +<li>—— of Geology, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 215<br /></li> +<li>—— of Human Knowledge <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 329<br /></li> +<li>—— of Morals and Legislation <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 186<br /></li> +<li>—— of Political Economy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 294<br /></li> +<li>—— of Sociology <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 145<br /></li> +<li>Progress and Poverty <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 238<br /></li> +<li>Prolongation of Life <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 246<br /></li> +<li>Prometheus Bound XVI 38<br /></li> +<li>Purgatorio XVI 307<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pushkin, Alexander Sergeyvitch</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 42<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Quentin Durward <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 227<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Rabelais, François</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 54<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Racine, Jean</span> <b>XVIII</b> 106<br /></li> +<li id="ranke"><span class="smcap">Ranke, Leopold Von</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 301<br /></li> +<li>Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 199<br /></li> +<li>Ravenshoe <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 319<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Reade, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 68 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Reflections and Moral Maxims XX <a href="#Page_215">215</a><br /></li> +<li>—— on the Revolution in France <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 212<br /></li> +<li>Religio Medici <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 66<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Renan, Ernest</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 231<br /></li> +<li>Renée Mauperin <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 289<br /></li> +<li>Representative Men XX <a href="#Page_118">118</a><br /></li> +<li>Republic, Plato's <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 84<br /></li> +<li>Revolt of Islam, The XVIII 214<br /></li> +<li>Rheingold XVIII 305<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Richardson, Samuel</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 178<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Richter, Jean Paul Friedrich</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 143 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Rights of Man, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 324<br /></li> +<li>Robinson Crusoe <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 26<br /></li> +<li>Rob Roy <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 64<br /></li> +<li>Romance of a Poor Young Man <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 110<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Romance of the Rose</span> <b>XVIII</b> 117<br /></li> +<li>Romany Rye, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 13<br /></li> +<li>Rome, History of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 144 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Romeo and Juliet XVIII 203<br /></li> +<li>Romola <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 58<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rossegger, Peter</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 165<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rousseau, Jean Jacques</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 176; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 190 (Confessions); <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 337<br /></li> +<li>Russia Under Peter the Great <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 259<br /></li> +<li>Ruy Blas <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 134<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Saint Pierre, Bernardin de</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 192; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 241<br /></li> +<li>Saints' Everlasting Rest, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 37<br /></li> +<li>Salathiel, or Tarry Thou Till I Come <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 324<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sallust, Caius Crispus</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 168<br /></li> +<li>Samson Agonistes <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 349<br /></li> +<li>Samuel Brohl and Company <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 235<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sand, George</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 205 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Sandford and Merton <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 14<br /></li> +<li>Sartor Resartus XX <a href="#Page_61">61</a><br /></li> +<li>Satires of Juvenal <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 207<br /></li> +<li>—— of Horace XVI 91<br /></li> +<li>——: 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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 312<br /></li> +<li>Scarlet Letter, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 50<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Schiller, Friedrich Von</span> <b>XVIII</b> 129;<br /> + <ul> + <li>"Life of" <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059"><b>IX</b></a> 111</li> + </ul></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Schliemann, Heinrich</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 132<br /></li> +<li>School for Scandal, The XVIII 226<br /></li> +<li>—— for Wives, The XVIII 14<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Schopenhauer, Arthur</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 99<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Scott, Michael</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 229<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Scott, Sir Walter</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527"><b>VII</b></a> 241 <i>seq.</i>; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 1 <i>seq.</i>; XVIII 147 <i>seq.</i>;<br /> + <ul> + <li>"Life of" <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 70</li> + </ul></li> +<li>Scottish Chiefs, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 28<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Seneca, L. Annaeus</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 109<br /></li> +<li>Sense and Sensibility <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 109<br /></li> +<li>Senses of Insects, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 95<br /></li> +<li>Sentimental Journey through France and Italy <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 216<br /></li> +<li>Shadow of the Sword, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 111<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Shakespeare, William</span> <b>XVIII</b> 170 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 41<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Shelley, Percy Bysshe</span> <b>XVIII</b> 214<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sheridan, Richard Brinsley</span> <b>XVIII</b> 226<br /></li> +<li>She Stoops to Conquer <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a> 39<br /></li> +<li>Shirley <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 71<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sidney, Sir Philip</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 54<br /></li> +<li>Siegfried XVIII 327<br /></li> +<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">361</a></span>Silas Marner <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 73<br /></li> +<li>Silence of Dean Maitland, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Simple Story, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 174<br /></li> +<li>Sir Charles Grandison <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 130<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Smith, Adam</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 350<br /></li> +<li>Smoke <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 272<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Smollett, Tobias</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 64 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Social Contract, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 337<br /></li> +<li>Sociology, Principles of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 145<br /></li> +<li>Socrates, Apology or Defence of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 75<br /></li> +<li>Some Fruits of Solitude <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620">XIII</a> 222<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sophocles</span> <b>XVIII</b> 237<br /></li> +<li>Sorrows of Young Werther <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 253<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Southey, Robert</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 226<br /></li> +<li>Spain: (Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 271<br /></li> +<li>Spectator, The XX <a href="#Page_1">1</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Speke, John Hanning</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 251<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Spencer, Herbert</span> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009"><b>XIV</b></a> 160<br /></li> +<li>Spirit of Laws, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 306<br /></li> +<li>Spy, The <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> <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> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 89; XX <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stanhope, Earl</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 248<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn</span> <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>) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 103<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sterne, Laurence</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 117; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 263<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stowe, Harriet Beecher</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 130<br /></li> +<li>Stafford XVI 165<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Strickland, Agnes</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 270<br /></li> +<li>Struggle of the Nations, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 20<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sue, Eugène</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 143<br /></li> +<li>Surface of the Globe, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 33<br /></li> +<li>Sweden (History of Charles XII) <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 280<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Swedenborg, Emanuel</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 249<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Swift, Jonathan</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 157; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 282<br /></li> +<li>Sybil, or The Two Nations <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 243<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Table Talk by Martin Luther <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 102<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tacitus, Publius Cornelius</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 156; XX <a href="#Page_286">286</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Taine, Hippolyte Adolphe</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 177; XX <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /></li> +<li>Tale of Two Cities <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 213<br /></li> +<li>Tales from Shakespeare XVIII 170<br /></li> +<li>Talisman, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 25<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Talmud, The</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620"><b>XIII</b></a> 259<br /></li> +<li>Tancred <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 256<br /></li> +<li>Tartarin of Tarascon <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>Tartuffe XVIII 29<br /></li> +<li>Task, The XVI 290<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tasso, Torquato</span> <b>XVIII</b> 250<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tennyson, Alfred Lord</span> <b>XVIII</b> 261 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thackeray, William Makepeace</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 169 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Theory of the Earth <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 170<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thomson, James</span> <b>XVIII</b> 293<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thoreau, Henry David</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /></li> +<li>Three Musketeers, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 316<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thucydides</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 95<br /></li> +<li>Timar's Two Worlds <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 212<br /></li> +<li>Timbuctoo the Mysterious <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 136<br /></li> +<li>Titan <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 152<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tocqueville, De</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 117; XX <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /></li> +<li>Toilers of the Sea, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 146<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tolstoy, Count</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 205; <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 99<br /></li> +<li>Tom Brown at Oxford <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 110<br /></li> +<li>—— Burke of Ours <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 39<br /></li> +<li>—— Cringle's Log <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527">VII</a> 229<br /></li> +<li>—— Jones <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 155<br /></li> +<li>Tour in Lapland, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 181<br /></li> +<li>Tower of London <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 17<br /></li> +<li>Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640">XVII</a><br /></li> +<li>Travels on the Amazon <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 285<br /></li> +<li>—— to Discover the Source of the Nile <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 47<br /></li> +<li>Travels in France <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>—— in the Interior of Africa <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 219<br /></li> +<li>—— of Marco Polo <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 229<br /></li> +<li>—— in Nubia <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 57<br /></li> +<li>Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 227<br /></li> +<li>—— on Painting XX <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li> +<li>Tristram Shandy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 117<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Trollope, Anthony</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 221 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Troy and Its Remains <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 32<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Turgenev, Ivan</span> <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 287<br /></li> +<li>—— Years After <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748">III</a> 331<br /></li> +<li>Two Years Ago <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 270<br /></li> +<li>—— before the Mast <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 335<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Uncle Silas <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 1<br /></li> +<li>—— Tom's Cabin <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 130<br /></li> +<li>Under Two Flags <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 326<br /></li> +<li>Undine <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 180<br /></li> +<li>United Netherlands, History of the <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 234<br /></li> +<li>—— States, History of <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 168<br /></li> +<li>Utopia: Nowhereland <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 315<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Valkyrie XVIII 316<br /></li> +<li>Vanity Fair <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 192<br /></li> +<li>Venice Preserved XVIII 48<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Verne, Jules</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 287<br /></li> +<li>Vertebrates, Anatomy of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 280<br /></li> +<li>Vestiges of Creation <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 22<br /></li> +<li>Vicar of Wakefield, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 175<br /></li> +<li>View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 155<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Villari, Pasquale</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 312<br /></li> +<li>Villette <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 83<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Vinci, Leonardo da</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Virchow, Rudolf</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509"><b>XV</b></a> 292<br /></li> +<li>Virginians, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 181<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Voltaire</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845"><b>XII</b></a> 101; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 259; <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845">XII</a> 280; <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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 124<br /></li> +<li>—— to the Isle of France <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 241<br /></li> +<li>Voyage to the Moon, A <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471">I</a> 265<br /></li> +<li>—— and Travel <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 210<br /></li> +<li>Voyages Round the World <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> <b>XVIII</b> 305 <i>seq.</i><br /></li> +<li>Walden XX <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wallace, Alfred Russell</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 285<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Walpole, Horace</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 303<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Walton, Isaak</span> <b>XX</b> <a href="#Page_334">334</a><br /></li> +<li>Wanderings in South America <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 313<br /></li> +<li>War, The Future of <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 199<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Warburton, Eliot</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 299<br /></li> +<li>Warden, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659">VIII</a> 221<br /></li> +<li>Wars of the Jews <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745">XI</a> 55<br /></li> +<li id="wash">Washington, Life of George <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572">X</a> 51<br /></li> +<li>Water-Babies <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 282<br /></li> +<li>Waterloo <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 97<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Waterton, Charles</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 313<br /></li> +<li>Way of the World, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180">VI</a> 288<br /></li> +<li>—— —— —— ——, The XVI 253<br /></li> +<li>Wealth of Nations, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 350<br /></li> +<li>Werther, Sorrows of Young <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 253<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wesley, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 327<br /></li> +<li>Westward Ho! <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993">V</a> 294<br /></li> +<li>Wild North Land, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 89<br /></li> +<li>—— Wales <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998">XIX</a> 13<br /></li> +<li>Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921">IV</a> 263<br /></li> +<li>William Tell XVIII 129<br /></li> +<li>Woman in White, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 262<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Woolman, John</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572"><b>X</b></a> 341<br /></li> +<li>World as Will and Idea, The <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009">XIV</a> 99<br /></li> +<li>Wuthering Heights <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643">II</a> 97<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Xenophon</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745"><b>XI</b></a> 110<br /></li> + +<li class="p1"><span class="smcap">Young, Arthur</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998"><b>XIX</b></a> 327<br /></li> + +<li class="p1">Zelter, Goethe's Letters to <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059">IX</a> 283<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Zola, Émile</span> <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659"><b>VIII</b></a> 318<br /></li> +<li>Zoological Philosophy <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509">XV</a> 179<br /></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Zoroastrianism</span> <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. 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