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diff --git a/old/44704.txt b/old/44704.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..45092d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44704.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14462 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX -- +Miscellaneous Literature and Index, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The World's Greatest Books -- Vol XX -- Miscellaneous Literature and Index + +Author: Various + +Editor: Arthur Mee + J. A. Hammerton + +Release Date: January 18, 2014 [EBook #44704] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS, VOL XX *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Suzanne Lybarger, Charlie Howard, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's note: Italics are indicated by _underscores_ and boldface +by =equals signs=. A complete Index of all 20 volumes of THE WORLD'S +GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end of this volume. + + + + +[Illustration: (signed) Matthew Arnold] + + + + + THE WORLD'S + GREATEST + BOOKS + + + JOINT EDITORS + + ARTHUR MEE + Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge + + J. A. HAMMERTON + Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia + + + VOL. XX + + MISCELLANEOUS + LITERATURE + + INDEX + + + WM. H. WISE & CO. + + + + +_Table of Contents_ + + + PORTRAIT OF MATTHEW ARNOLD _Frontispiece_ + + ADDISON, JOSEPH PAGE + Spectator 1 + + AESOP + Fables 10 + + ARNOLD, MATTHEW + Essays in Criticism 18 + + BRANDES, GEORGE + Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature 31 + + BURTON, ROBERT + Anatomy of Melancholy 41 + + CARLYLE, THOMAS + On Heroes and Hero Worship 50 + Sartor Resartus 61 + + CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS + Concerning Friendship 70 + + COBBETT, WILLIAM + Advice to Young Men 78 + + DEFOE, DANIEL + Journal of the Plague Year 90 + + DESMOSTHENES + Philippics 99 + + EMERSON, RALPH WALDO + English Traits 109 + Representative Men 118 + + ERASMUS + Familiar Colloquies 126 + In Praise of Folly 132 + + GESTA ROMANORUM 140 + + GOLDSMITH, OLIVER + Citizen of the World 149 + + HALLAM, HENRY + Introduction to the Literature of Europe 158 + + HAZLITT, WILLIAM + Lectures on the English Poets 169 + + HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL + Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 181 + + LA BRUYERE + Characters 193 + + LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE + Imaginary Conversations 203 + + LA ROCHEFOUCAULD + Reflections and Moral Maxims 215 + + LEONARDO DA VINCI + Treatise on Painting 227 + + LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM + Laocoon 239 + + MILL, JOHN STUART + Essay on Liberty 248 + + MILTON, JOHN + Areopagitica 257 + + PLUTARCH + Parallel Lives 266 + + STAEL, MME. DE + On Germany 276 + + TACITUS + Germania 286 + + TAINE + History of English Literature 298 + + THOREAU, HENRY DAVID + Walden 312 + + TOCQUEVILLE, DE + Democracy in America 324 + + WALTON, IZAAK + Complete Angler 334 + + INDEX 349 + + + + +Miscellaneous + + + + +JOSEPH ADDISON + +The Spectator + + "The Spectator," the most popular and elegant miscellany of + English literature, appeared on the 1st of March, 1711. With an + interruption of two years--1712 to 1714--during part of which + time "The Guardian," a similar periodical, took its place, "The + Spectator" was continued to the 20th of December, 1714. Addison's + fame is inseparably associated with this periodical. He was the + animating spirit of the magazine, and by far the most exquisite + essays which appear in it are by him. Richard Steele, Addison's + friend and coadjutor in "The Spectator," was born in Dublin + in March, 1672, and died at Carmarthen on September 1, 1729. + (Addison biography, see Vol. XVI, p. 1.) + + +_The Essays and the Essayist_ + +Addison's "Spectator" is one of the most interesting books in the +English language. When Dr. Johnson praised Addison's prose, it was +specially of "The Spectator" that he was speaking. "His page," he +says, "is always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendour. +His sentences have neither studied amplitude nor affected brevity; his +periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever +wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant +but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to Addison." + +Johnson's verdict has been upheld, for it is chiefly by "The Spectator" +that Addison lives. None but scholars know his Latin verse and +his voluminous translations now. His "Cato" survives only in some +half-dozen occasional quotations. Two or three hymns of his, including +"The spacious firmament on high," and "When all Thy mercies, O my God," +find a place in church collections; and his simile of the angel who +rides upon the whirlwind and directs the storm is used now and again +by pressmen and public speakers. But, in the main, when we think of +Addison, it is of "The Spectator" that we think. + +Recall the time when it was founded. It was in the days of Queen Anne, +the Augustan age of the essay. There were no newspapers then, no +magazines or reviews, no Parliamentary reports, nothing corresponding +to the so-called "light literature" of later days. The only centres of +society that existed were the court, with the aristocracy that revolved +about it, and the clubs and coffee-houses, in which the commercial +and professional classes met to discuss matters of general interest, +to crack their jokes, and to exchange small talk about this, that and +the other person, man or woman, who might happen to figure, publicly +or privately, at the time. "The Spectator" was one of the first organs +to give form and consistency to the opinion, the humour and the gossip +engendered by this social contact. + +One of the first, but not quite the first; for the less famous, though +still remembered, "Tatler" preceded it. And these two, "The Tatler" and +"The Spectator," have an intimate connection from the circumstance that +Richard Steele, who started "The Tatler" in April, 1709, got Addison to +write for it, and then joined with Addison in "The Spectator" when his +own paper stopped in January, 1711. Addison and Steele had been friends +since boyhood. They were contemporaries at the Charterhouse, and Steele +often spent his holidays in the parsonage of Addison's father. + +The two friends were a little under forty years of age when "The +Spectator" began in March, 1711. It was a penny paper, and was +published daily, its predecessor having been published three times a +week. It began with a circulation of 3,000 copies, and ran up to about +10,000 before it stopped its daily issue in December, 1712. Macaulay, +writing in 1843, insists upon the sale as "indicating a popularity +quite as great as that of the most successful works of Scott and +Dickens in our time." The 555 numbers of the daily issue formed seven +volumes; and then there was a final eighth volume, made up of triweekly +issues: a total of 635 numbers, of which Addison wrote 274, and Steele +236. + +To summarise the contents of these 635 numbers would require a volume. +They are so versatile and so varied. As one of Addison's biographers +puts it, to-day you have a beautiful meditation, brilliant in imagery +and serious as a sermon, or a pious discourse on death, or perhaps +an eloquent and scathing protest against the duel; while to-morrow +the whole number is perhaps concerned with the wigs, ruffles, and +shoe-buckles of the _macaroni_, or the hoops, patches, farthingales +and tuckers of the ladies. If you wish to see the plays and actors of +the time, "The Spectator" will always show them to you; and, moreover, +point out the dress, manners, and mannerisms, affectations, indecorums, +plaudits, or otherwise of the frequenters of the theatre. + +For here is no newspaper, as we understand the term. "The Spectator" +from the first indulged his humours at the expense of the quidnuncs. +Says he: + +"There is another set of men that I must likewise lay a claim to +as being altogether unfurnished with ideas till the business and +conversation of the day has supplied them. I have often considered +these poor souls with an eye of great commiseration when I have heard +them asking the first man they have met with whether there was any news +stirring, and by that means gathering together materials for thinking. +These needy persons do not know what to talk of till about twelve +o'clock in the morning; for by that time they are pretty good judges +of the weather, know which way the wind sets, and whether the Dutch +mail be come in. As they lie at the mercy of the first man they meet, +and are grave or impertinent all the day long, according to the notions +which they have imbibed in the morning, I would earnestly entreat them +not to stir out of their chambers till they have read this paper; and +do promise them that I will daily instil into them such sound and +wholesome sentiments as shall have a good effect on their conversation +for the ensuing twelve hours." + +Now, the essential, or at least the leading feature of "The Spectator" +is this: that the entertainment is provided by an imaginary set of +characters forming a Spectator Club. The club represents various +classes or sections of the community, so that through its members a +corresponding variety of interests and opinions is set before the +reader, the Spectator himself acting as a sort of final censor or +referee. Chief among the Club members is Sir Roger de Coverley, a +simple, kindly, honourable, old-world country gentleman. Here is the +description of this celebrated character: + +"The first of our society is a gentleman of Worcestershire, of +ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir Roger de Coverley. His +great-grandfather was inventor of that famous country dance which is +called after him. All who know that shire are very well acquainted +with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is very +singular in his behaviour, but his singularities proceed from his good +sense, and are contradictions to the manners of the world only as he +thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this humour creates him +no enemies, for he does nothing with sourness or obstinacy; and his +being unconfined to modes and forms makes him but the readier and more +capable to please and oblige all who know him. When he is in town, he +lives in Soho Square. It is said he keeps himself a bachelor by reason +he was crossed in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next county +to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was what you call a +fine gentleman, had often supped with my Lord Rochester and Sir George +Etherege, fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and kicked Bully +Dawson in a public coffee-house for calling him youngster. But being +ill-used by the above-mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year +and a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, he at last +got over it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed afterwards. +He continues to wear a coat and doublet of the same cut that were in +fashion at the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, he +tells us, has been in and out twelve times since he first wore it. It +is said Sir Roger grew humble in his desires after he had forgot this +cruel beauty, insomuch that it is reported he was frequently offended +with beggars and gipsies; but this is looked upon by his friends rather +as matter of raillery than truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, +cheerful, gay, and hearty; keeps a good house both in town and country; +a great lover of mankind; but there is such a mirthful cast in his +behaviour that he is rather beloved than esteemed." + +Then there is Sir Andrew Freeport, "a merchant of great eminence in the +City of London; a person of indefatigable industry, strong reason, and +great experience." He is "acquainted with commerce in all its parts; +and will tell you it is a stupid and barbarous way to extend dominion +by arms; for true power is to be got by arts and industry. He will +often argue that, if this part of our trade were well cultivated, we +should gain from one nation; and if another, from another." + +There is Captain Sentry, too, "a gentleman of great courage and +understanding, but invincible modesty," who in the club speaks for the +army, as the templar does for taste and learning, and the clergyman for +theology and philosophy. + +And then, that the club may not seem to be unacquainted with "the +gallantries and pleasures of the age," there is Will Honeycomb, the +elderly man of fashion, who is "very ready at that sort of discourse +with which men usually entertain women." Will "knows the history of +every mode, and can inform you from which of the French king's wenches +our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that +way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort +of petticoat; and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the +dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and +knowledge have been in the female world. As other men of his age will +take notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an +occasion, he will tell you when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court, +such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head +of his troop in the park. This way of talking of his very much enlivens +the conversation among us of a more sedate turn; and I find there is +not one of the company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, but speaks +of him as that sort of man who is usually called a well-bred fine +gentleman. To conclude his character, where women are not concerned, he +is an honest, worthy man." + +Nor must we forget Will Wimble, though he is really an outsider. Will +is the younger son of a baronet: a man of no profession, looking after +his father's game, training his dogs, shooting, fishing, hunting, +making whiplashes for his neighbors, knitting garters for the ladies, +and afterwards slyly inquiring how they wear: a welcome guest at every +house in the county; beloved by all the lads and the children. + +Besides these, and others, there is a fine little gallery of portraits +in Sir Roger's country neighbours and tenants. We have, for instance, +the yeoman who "knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a +week, and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not +so good an estate as himself"; and we have Moll White, the reputed +witch, who, if she made a mistake at church and cried "Amen!" in a +wrong place, "they never failed to conclude that she was saying her +prayers backwards." We have the diverting captain, "young, sound, +and impudent"; we have a demure Quaker; we have Tom Touchy, a fellow +famous for "taking the law" of everybody; and we have the inn-keeper, +who, out of compliment to Sir Roger, "put him up in a sign-post before +the door," and then, when Sir Roger objected, changed the figure into +the Saracen's Head by "a little aggravation of the features" and the +addition of a pair of whiskers! + +Best of all is the old chaplain. Sir Roger was "afraid of being +insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table"; so he got a university +friend to "find him out a clergyman, rather of plain sense than much +learning, of a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, and, if +possible, a man that understood a little of backgammon." The genial +knight "made him a present of all the good sermons printed in English, +and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of +them in the pulpit." Thus, if Sir Roger happened to meet his chaplain +on a Saturday evening, and asked who was to preach to-morrow, he would +perhaps be answered: "The Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and +Dr. South in the afternoon." About which arrangement "The Spectator" +boldly observes: "I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy +would follow this example; and, instead of wasting their spirits in +laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome +elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce what +has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to +themselves, but more edifying to the people." + +There is no end to the subjects discussed by "The Spectator." They +range from dreams to dress and duelling; from ghosts to gardening and +goats' milk; from wigs to wine and widows; from religion to riches +and riding; from servants to sign-posts and snuff-boxes; from love +to lodgings and lying; from beards to bankruptcy and blank verse; and +hundreds of other interesting themes. Correspondents often wrote to +emphasise this variety, for letters from the outside public were always +welcome. Thus one "Thomas Trusty": + +"The variety of your subjects surprises me as much as a box of +pictures did formerly, in which there was only one face, that by +pulling some pieces of isinglass over it was changed into a senator or +a merry-andrew, a polished lady or a nun, a beau or a blackamoor, a +prude or a coquette, a country squire or a conjurer, with many other +different representations very entertaining, though still the same at +the bottom." + +But perhaps, on the whole, woman and her little ways have the +predominant attention. Indeed, Addison expressly avowed this object of +engaging the special interests of the sex when he started. He says: + +"There are none to whom this paper will be more useful than to the +female world. I have often thought that there has not been sufficient +pains taken in finding out proper employments and diversions for the +fair ones. Their amusements seem contrived for them rather as they +are women than as they are reasonable creatures; and are more adapted +to the sex than to the species. The toilet is their great scene +of business, and the right adjustment of their hair the principal +employment of their lives. The sorting of a suit of ribands is reckoned +a very good morning's work; and if they make an excursion to a mercer's +or a toy-shop, so great a fatigue makes them unfit for anything else +all the day after. Their more serious occupations are sewing and +embroidery, and their greatest drudgery the preparations of jellies and +sweetmeats. This, I say, is the state of ordinary women; though I know +there are multitudes of those of a more elevated life and conversation, +that move in an exalted sphere of knowledge and virtue, that join all +the beauties of the mind to the ornaments of dress, and inspire a kind +of awe and respect, as well as of love, into their male beholders. +I hope to increase the number of these by publishing this daily +paper, which I shall always endeavour to make an innocent, if not an +improving, entertainment, and by that means, at least, divert the minds +of my female readers from greater trifles." + +These reflections on the manners of women did not quite please Swift, +who wrote to Stella: "I will not meddle with 'The Spectator'; let him +_fair sex_ it to the world's end." But they pleased most other people, +as the main contents of "The Spectator" still please. Here is one +typical acknowledgment, signed "Leonora": + + Mr. Spectator,--Your paper is part of my tea-equipage; and my + servant knows my humour so well that, calling for my breakfast + this morning (it being past my usual hour), she answered, "'the + Spectator' was not yet come in, but the tea-kettle boiled, and + she expected it every moment." + +As an "abstract and brief chronicle of the time," this monumental work +of Addison and Steele is without peer. In its pages may be traced the +foundations of all that is noble and healthy in modern English thought; +and its charming sketches may be made the open sesame to a period and a +literature as rich as any our country has seen. + + + + +AESOP + +Fables + + It is in the fitness of things that the early biographies of + AEsop, the great fabulist, should be entirely fabulous. Macrobius + has distinguished between _fabula_ and _fabulosa narratio_: + "He would have a fable to be absolutely false, and a fabulous + narration to be a number of fictions built upon a foundation of + truth." The Lives of AEsop belong chiefly to the latter category. + In the following pages what is known of the life of AEsop is set + forth, together with condensed versions of some of his most + characteristic fables, which have long passed into the wisdom of + all nations, this being a subject that calls for treatment on + somewhat different lines from the majority of the works dealt + with in THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS. + + +_Introductory_ + +Pierre Bayle, in his judicious fashion, sums up what is said of AEsop in +antiquity, resting chiefly upon Plutarch. "Plutarch affirms: (1) That +Croesus sent AEsop to Periander, the Tyrant of Corinth, and to the Oracle +of Delphi; (2) that Socrates found no other expedient to obey the God +of Dreams, without injuring his profession, than to turn the Fables of +AEsop into verse; (3) that AEsop and Solon were together at the Court of +Croesus, King of Lydia; (4) that those of Delphi, having put AEsop to +death cruelly and unjustly, and finding themselves exposed to several +calamities on account of this injustice, made a public declaration that +they were ready to make satisfaction to the memory of AEsop; (5) that +having treated thereupon with a native of Samos, they were delivered +from the evil that afflicted them." + +To this summary Bayle added a footnote concerning "The Life of +AEsop, composed by Meziriac": "It is a little book printed at +Bourg-en-Bress, in 1632. It contains only forty pages in 16. It is +becoming exceedingly scarce.... This is what I extract from it. It +is more probable that AEsop was born at Cotioeum, a town of Phrygia, +than that he was born at Sardis, or in the island of Samos, or at +Mesembria in Thrace. The first master that he served was one Zemarchus, +or Demarchus, surnamed Carasius, a native and inhabitant of Athens. +Thus it is probable that it was there he learned the purity of the +Greek tongue, as in its spring, and acquired the knowledge of moral +philosophy which was then in esteem.... + +"In process of time he was sold to Xanthus, a native of the Isle of +Samos, and afterwards to Idmon, or Iadmnon, the philosopher, who was +a Samian also, and who enfranchised him. After he had recovered his +liberty, he soon acquired a great reputation among the Greeks; so that +the report of his singular wisdom having reached the ears of Croesus, +he sent to inquire after him; and having conceived an affection for +him, he obliged him by his favours to engage himself in his service to +the end of his life. He travelled through Greece--whether for his own +pleasure or for the private affairs of Croesus is uncertain--and passing +by Athens, soon after Pisistratus had usurped the sovereign power there +and had abolished the popular state, and seeing that the Athenians +bore the yoke very impatiently, he told them the Fable of the Frogs +that asked a King of Jupiter. Afterwards he met the Seven Wise Men in +the City of Corinth at the Tyrant Periander's. Some relate that, in +order to show that the life of man is full of miseries, and that one +pleasure is attended with a thousand pains, AEsop used to say that when +Prometheus took the clay to form man, he did not temper it with water, +but with tears." + +Concerning the death of this extraordinary man we read that AEsop went +to Delphi, with a great quantity of gold and silver, being ordered by +Croesus to offer a great sacrifice to Apollo, and to give a considerable +sum to each inhabitant. The quarrel which arose between the Delphians +and him was the occasion, after his sending away the sacrifice, of his +sending back the money to Croesus; for he thought that those for whom +this prince designed it had rendered themselves unworthy of it. The +inhabitants of Delphi contrived an accusation of sacrilege against him, +and, pretending that they had convicted him, cast him down from the top +of a rock. + +Bayle has a long line of centuries at his back when he says: "AEsop's +lectures against the faults of men were the fullest of good sense and +wit that can be imagined." He substantiates this affirmation in the +following manner: "Can any inventions be more happy than the images +AEsop made use of to instruct mankind? They are exceedingly fit for +children, and no less proper for grown persons; they are all that is +necessary to perfect a precept --I mean the mixture of the useful with +the agreeable." He then quotes Aulus Gellius as saying: "AEsop the +Phrygian fabulist was not without reason esteemed to be wise, since he +did not, after the manner of the philosophers, severely and imperiously +command such things as were fit to be advised and persuaded, but by +feigning, diverting and entertaining apologues, he insinuates good +and wholesome advice into the minds of men with a kind of willing +attention." + +Bayle continues: "At all times these have been made to succeed the +homespun stories of nurses. 'Let them learn to tell the Fables of +AEscop, which succeed the stories of the nursery, in pure and easy +style, and afterwards endeavour to write in the same familiar manner.' +They have never fallen into contempt. Our age, notwithstanding its +pride and delicacy, esteems and admires them, and shows them in a +hundred different shapes. The inimitable La Fontaine has procured them +in our time a great deal of honour and glory; and great commendations +are given to the reflections of an English wit, Sir Roger L'Estrange, +on these very fables." + +Since the period when Pierre Bayle composed his great biographical +dictionary, the Fables of AEsop have perhaps suffered something of a +relapse in the favour of grown persons; but if one may judge from the +number of new editions illustrated for children, they are still the +delight of modern nurseries. There is this, however, to be said of +contemporary times--that the multitude of books in a nursery prevent +children from acquiring the profound and affectionate acquaintance with +AEsop which every child would naturally get when his fables were almost +the only book provided by the Press for juvenile readers. + +It is questionable whether the fables will any longer produce the +really deep effect which they certainly have had in the past. But we +may be certain that some of them will always play a great part in the +wisdom of the common people, and that these particularly true and +striking apologues are secure of an eternal place in the literature +of nations. As an example of what we mean, we will tell as simply as +possible some of the most characteristic fables. + + +_The Dog and the Shadow_ + +A Dog, with a piece of stolen meat between his teeth, was one day +crossing a river by means of a plank, when he caught sight of another +dog in the water carrying a far larger piece of meat. He opened his +jaws to snap at the greater morsel, when the meat dropped in the stream +and was lost even in the reflection. + + +_The Dying Lion_ + +A Lion, brought to the extremity of weakness by old age and disease, +lay dying in the sunlight. Those whom he had oppressed in his strength +now came round about him to revenge themselves for past injuries. The +Boar ripped the flank of the King of Beasts with his tusks. The Bull +came and gored the Lion's sides with his horns. Finally, the Ass drew +near, and after carefully seeing that there was no danger, let fly with +his heels in the Lion's face. Then, with a dying groan, the mighty +creature exclaimed: "How much worse it is than a thousand deaths to be +spurned by so base a creature!" + + +_The Mountain in Labour_ + +A Mountain was heard to produce dreadful sounds, as though it were +labouring to bring forth something enormous. The people came and stood +about waiting to see what wonderful thing would be produced from this +labour. After they had waited till they were tired, out crept a Mouse. + + +_Hercules and the Waggoner_ + +A Waggoner was driving his team through a muddy lane when the wheels +stuck fast in the clay, and the Horses could get no farther. The Man +immediately dropped on his knees, and, crying bitterly, besought +Hercules to come and help him. "Get up and stir thyself, thou lazy +fellow!" replied Hercules. "Whip thy Horses, and put thy shoulder to +the wheel. If thou art in need of my help, when thou thyself hast +laboured, then shalt thou have it." + + +_The Frogs that Asked for a King_ + +The Frogs, who lived an easy, happy life in the ponds, once prayed to +Jupiter that he should give them a King. Jupiter was amused by this +prayer, and cast a log into the water, saying: "There, then, is a King +for you." The Frogs, frightened by the great splash, regarded their +King with alarm, until at last, seeing that he did not stir, some of +them jumped upon his back and began to be merry there, amused at such +a foolish King. However, King Log did not satisfy their ideas for very +long, and so once again they petitioned Jupiter to send them a King, a +real King who would rule over them, and not lie helpless in the water. +Then Jupiter sent the Frogs a Stork, who caught them by their legs, +tossed them in the air, and gobbled them up whenever he was hungry. +All in a hurry the Frogs besought Jupiter to take away King Stork +and restore them to their former happy condition. "No, no," answered +Jupiter; "a King that did you no hurt did not please you; make the best +of him you now have, lest a worse come in his place!" + + +_The Gnat and the Lion_ + +A lively and insolent Gnat was bold enough to attack a Lion, which he +so maddened by stinging the most sensitive parts of his nose, eyes +and ears that the beast roared with anguish and tore himself with +his claws. In vain were the Lion's efforts to rid himself of his +insignificant tormentor; again and again the insect returned and stung +the furious King of Beasts, till at last the Lion fell exhausted on the +ground. The triumphant Gnat, sounding his tiny trumpet, hovered over +the spot exulting in his victory. But it happened that in his circling +flight he got himself caught in the web of a Spider, which, fine and +delicate as it was, yet had power enough to hold the tiny insect a +prisoner. All the Gnat's efforts to escape only held him the more +tightly and firmly a prisoner, and he who had conquered the Lion became +in his turn the prey of the Spider. + + +_The Wolf and the Stork_ + +A Wolf ate his food so greedily that a bone stuck in his throat. This +caused him such great pain that he ran hither and thither, promising +to reward handsomely anyone who would remove the cause of his torture. +A Stork, moved with pity by the Wolf's cry of pain, and tempted also +by the reward, undertook the dangerous operation. When he had removed +the bone, the Wolf moved away, but the Stork called out and reminded +him of the promised reward. "Reward!" exclaimed the Wolf. "Pray, you +greedy fellow, what reward can you expect? You dared to put your head +in my mouth, and instead of biting it off, I let you take it out again +unharmed. Get away with you! And do not again place yourself in my +power." + + +_The Frog who Wanted to Be as Big as an Ox_ + +A vain Frog, surrounded by her children, looked up and saw an Ox +grazing near by. "I can be as big as the Ox," she said, and began to +blow herself out. "Am I as big now?" she inquired. "Oh, no; not nearly +so big!" said the little frogs. "Now?" she asked, blowing herself out +still more. "No, not nearly so big!" answered her children. "But now?" +she inquired eagerly, and blew herself out still more. "No, not even +now," they said; "and if you try till you burst yourself you will never +be so big." But the Frog would not listen, and attempting to make +herself bigger still, burst her skin and died. + + +_The Dog in the Manger_ + +A Dog lay in a manger which was full of hay. An Ox, being hungry, came +near, and was about to eat when the Dog started up, and, with angry +snarls, would not let the Ox approach. "Surly brute," said the Ox; "you +cannot eat the hay yourself, and you will let no one else have any." + + +_The Bundle of Faggots_ + +An honest Man had the unhappiness to have a quarrelsome family of +children. One day he called them before him, and bade them try to break +a bundle of faggots. All tried, and all failed. "Now," said he, "unbind +the bundle and take every stick by itself, and see if you cannot break +them." They did his bidding, and snapped all the sticks one by one with +the greatest possible ease. "This, my children," said the Father at +last, "is a true emblem of your condition. Keep together and you are +safe, divide and you are undone." + + +_The Fox Without a Tail_ + +A Fox was once caught in a trap by his tail, and in order to get free +was obliged to leave it behind. He knew that his fellows would make fun +of his tailless condition, so he made up his mind to induce them all to +part with their tails. At the next assemblage of Foxes he made a speech +on the uselessness of tails in general, and the inconvenience of a +Fox's tail in particular, declaring that never in his whole life had he +felt so comfortable as now in his tailless freedom. When he sat down, +a sly old Fox rose, and, waving his brush, said, with a sneer, that +if he had lost his tail, he would be convinced by the last speaker's +arguments, but until such an accident occurred he fully intended to +vote in favour of tails. + + +_The Blind Man and the Paralytic_ + +A blind man finding himself stopped in a rough and difficult road, +met with a paralytic and begged his assistance. "How can I help you," +replied the paralytic, "when I can scarcely move myself along?" But, +regarding the blind man, he added: "However, you appear to have good +legs and a broad back, and, if you will lift me and carry me, I will +guide you safely through this difficulty, which is more than each one +can surmount for himself. You shall walk for me, and I will see for +you." "With all my heart," rejoined the blind man; and, taking the +paralytic on his shoulders, the two went cheerfully forward in a wise +partnership which triumphed over all difficulties. + + + + +MATTHEW ARNOLD + +Essays in Criticism + + Matthew Arnold, son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby (see Vol. X, p. 260), + was born on December 24, 1822, and died on April 15, 1888. He was + by everyday calling an inspector of schools and an educational + expert, but by nature and grace a poet, a philosopher, a man of + piety and of letters. Arnold almost ceased to write verse when + he was forty-five, though not without having already produced + some of the choicest poetry in the English language. Before + that he had developed his theories of literary criticism in his + "Essays in Criticism"; and about the time of his withdrawal + from Oxford he published "Culture and Anarchy," in which his + system of philosophy is broadly outlined. Later, in "St. Paul + and Protestantism," "Literature and Dogma" and "God and the + Bible," he tried to adjust Christianity according to the light of + modern knowledge. In his "Lectures on Translating Homer," he had + expressed views on criticism and its importance that were new to, + and so were somewhat adversely discussed by the Press. Whereupon, + in 1865, with a militant joy, he re-entered the fray and defined + the province of criticism in the first of a series of "Essays in + Criticism," showing the narrowness of the British conception. + "The Literary Influence of Academies" was a subject that enabled + him to make a further comparison between the literary genius of + the French and of the English people, and a number of individual + critiques that followed only enhanced his great and now + undisputed position both as a poet and as a critic. The argument + of the two general essays is given here. + + +_I.--Creative Power and Critical Power_ + +Many objections have been made to a proposition of mine about +criticism: "Of the literature of France and Germany, as of the +intellect of Europe in general, the main effort, for now many years, +has been a critical effort--the endeavour, in all branches of +knowledge, to see the object as in itself it really is." I added that +"almost the last thing for which one would come to English literature +was just that very thing which now Europe most desired--criticism," +and that the power and value of English literature were thereby +impaired. More than one rejoinder declared that the importance here +again assigned to criticism was excessive, and asserted the inherent +superiority of the creative effort of the human spirit over its +critical effort. A reporter of Wordsworth's conversation quotes a +judgment to the same effect: "Wordsworth holds the critical power very +low; indeed, infinitely lower than the inventive." + +The critical power is of lower rank than the inventive--true; but, in +assenting to this proposition, we must keep in mind that men may have +the sense of exercising a free creative activity in other ways than +in producing great works of literature or art; and that the exercise +of the creative power in the production of great works of literature +or art is not at all epochs and under all conditions possible. This +creative power works with elements, with materials--what if it has not +those materials ready for its use? Now, in literature, the elements +with which creative power works are ideas--the best ideas on every +matter which literature touches, current at the time. The grand work of +literary genius is a work of synthesis and exposition; its gift lies +in the faculty of being happily inspired by a certain intellectual and +spiritual atmosphere, by a certain order of ideas, when it finds itself +in them; of dealing divinely with these ideas, presenting them in most +effective and attractive combinations, making beautiful works with +them, in short. But it must have the atmosphere, it must find itself +amidst the order of the ideas, in order to work freely; and these it +is not so easy to command. This is really why great creative epochs in +literature are so rare--because, for the creation of a master-work of +literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power +of the moment; and the man is not enough without the moment. + +The creative power has for its happy exercise appointed elements, and +those elements are not in its control. Nay, they are more within the +control of the critical power. It is the business of the critical +power in all branches of knowledge to see the object as in itself it +really is. Thus it tends at last to make an intellectual situation of +which the creative power can avail itself. It tends to establish an +order of ideas, if not absolutely true, yet true by comparison with +that which it displaces--to make the best ideas prevail. Presently +these new ideas reach society; the touch of truth is the touch of life; +and there is a stir and growth everywhere. Out of this stir and growth +come the creative epochs of literature. + + +_II.--The Literary "Atmosphere"_ + +It has long seemed to me that the burst of creative activity in our +literature through the first quarter of the nineteenth century had +about it something premature, and for this cause its productions are +doomed to prove hardly more lasting than the productions of far less +splendid epochs. And this prematureness comes from its having proceeded +without having its proper data, without sufficient materials to work +with. In other words, the English poetry of the first quarter of the +nineteenth century, with plenty of energy, plenty of creative force, +did not know enough. This makes Byron so empty of matter, Shelley so +incoherent, Wordsworth, profound as he is, so wanting in completeness +and variety. + +It was not really books and reading that lacked to our poetry at this +epoch. Shelley had plenty of reading, Coleridge had immense reading; +Pindar and Sophocles had not many books; Shakespeare was no deep +reader. True; but in the Greece of Pindar and Sophocles and the England +of Shakespeare the poet lived in a current of ideas in the highest +degree animating and nourishing to creative power. + +Such an atmosphere the many-sided learning and the long and widely +combined critical effort of Germany formed for Goethe when he lived +and worked. In the England of the first quarter of the nineteenth +century there was neither a national glow of life and thought, such +as we had in the age of Elizabeth, nor yet a force of learning and +criticism, such as was to be found in Germany. The creative power +of poetry wanted, for success in the highest sense, materials and a +basis--a thorough interpretation of the world was necessarily denied to +it. + +At first it seems strange that out of the immense stir of the French +Revolution and its age should not have come a crop of works of genius +equal to that which came out of the stir of the great productive time +of Greece, or out of that of the Renaissance, with its powerful episode +of the Reformation. But the truth is that the stir of the French +Revolution took a character which essentially distinguished it from +such movements as these. The French Revolution found, undoubtedly, its +motive power in the intelligence of men, and not in their practical +sense. It appeals to an order of ideas which are universal, certain, +permanent. The year 1789 asked of a thing: Is it rational? That a +whole nation should have been penetrated with an enthusiasm for pure +reason is a very remarkable thing when we consider how little of mind, +or anything so worthy or quickening as mind, comes into the motives +which in general impel great masses of men. In spite of the crimes and +follies in which it lost itself, the French Revolution derives, from +the force, truth and universality of the ideas which it took for its +law, a unique and still living power; and it is, and will probably long +remain, the greatest, the most animating event in history. + +But the mania for giving an immediate political and practical +application to all these fine ideas of the reason was fatal. Here +an Englishman is in his element: on this theme we can all go on for +hours. Ideas cannot be too much prized in and for themselves, cannot +be too much lived with; but to transport them abruptly into the world +of politics and practice, violently to revolutionise this world to +their bidding--that is quite another thing. "Force and right are the +governors of the world; force till right is ready" Joubert has said. +The grand error of the French Revolution was that it set at naught +the second great half of that maxim--force till right is ready--and, +rushing furiously into the political sphere, created in opposition to +itself what I may call an epoch of concentration. + +The great force of that epoch of concentration was England, and the +great voice of that epoch of concentration was Burke. I will not +deny that his writings are often disfigured by the violence and +passion of the moment, and that in some directions Burke's view was +bounded and his observations therefore at fault; but for those who +can make the needful corrections what distinguishes these writings +is their profound, permanent, fruitful, philosophical truth--they +contain the true philosophy of an epoch of concentration. Now, an +epoch of expansion seems to be opening in this country. In spite of +the absorbing and brutalising influence of our passionate material +progress, this progress is likely to lead in the end to an apparition +of intellectual life. It is of the last importance that English +criticism should discern what rule it ought to take, to avail itself +of the field now opening to it. That rule may be summed up in one +word--disinterestedness. + + +_III.--The Virtue of Detachment_ + +How is criticism to show disinterestedness? By keeping aloof from +practice; by resolutely following the law of its own nature, which is +to be a free play of the mind on all subjects which it touches. Its +business is simply to know the best that is known and thought in the +world, and by making this known to create a current of fresh and true +ideas. What is at present the bane of criticism in this country? It +is that our organs of criticism are organs of men and parties having +practical ends to serve, and with them those practical ends are the +first thing, and the play of the mind the second--so much play of mind +as is compatible with the prosecution of these practical ends is all +that is wanted. + +An organ like the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, existing as just an organ +for a free play of mind, we have not; but we have the "Edinburgh +Review," existing as an organ of the old Whigs, and for as much play +of mind as may suit its being that; we have the "Quarterly Review," +existing as an organ of the Tories, and for as much play of mind as may +suit its being that; we have the "British Quarterly Review," existing +as an organ of the political Dissenters, and for as much play of mind +as may suit its being that; we have "The Times," existing as an organ +of the common, satisfied, well-to-do Englishman, and for as much play +of mind as may suit its being that. And so on through all the various +fractions, political and religious, of our society--every fraction +has, as such, its organ of criticism, but the notion of combining all +fractions in the common pleasure of a free, disinterested play of mind +meets with no favour. Yet no other criticism will ever attain any real +authority, or make any real way towards its end--the creating of a +current of true and fresh ideas. + +It will be said that, by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue +of detachment, criticism condemns itself to a slow and obscure work; +but it is the only proper work of criticism. Whoever sets himself to +see things as they are will find himself one of a very small circle; +but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its work that +adequate ideas will ever get current at all. For the practical man is +not apt for fine distinctions, and yet in these distinctions truth and +the highest culture greatly find their account. To act is so easy, as +Goethe says, and to think is so hard. Criticism must maintain its +independence of the practical spirit and its aims. Even with well meant +efforts of the practical spirit it must express dissatisfaction if, in +the sphere of the ideal, they seem impoverishing and limiting. It must +be apt to study and praise elements that for the fulness of spiritual +perfection are wanted, even though they belong to a power which, in +the practical sphere, may be maleficent. It must be apt to discern the +spiritual shortcomings of powers that in the practical sphere may be +beneficent. + +By the very nature of things much of the best that is known and +thought in the world cannot be of English growth--must be foreign; +by the nature of things, again, it is just this that we are least +likely to know, while English thought is streaming in upon us from all +sides, and takes excellent care that we shall not be ignorant of its +existence. The English critic must dwell much on foreign thought, and +with particular heed on any part of it, which, while significant and +fruitful in itself, is for any reason specially likely to escape him. + +Again, judging is often spoken of as the critic's business; and so in +some sense it is. But the judgment which almost insensibly forms itself +in a fair and clear mind, along with fresh knowledge, is the valuable +one; and, therefore, knowledge, and ever fresh knowledge, must be the +critic's great concern for himself. And it is by communicating fresh +knowledge, and letting his own judgment pass along with it--as a sort +of companion and clue--that he will generally do most good to his +readers. + +To get near the standard of the best that is known and thought in the +world, every critic should possess one great literature at least beside +his own; and the more unlike his own the better. For the criticism I am +concerned with regards Europe as being for intellectual and spiritual +purposes one great confederation, bound to a joint action and working +to a common result. + +I conclude with what I said at the beginning. To have the sense of +creative activity is not denied to criticism; but then criticism must +be sincere, simple, flexible, ardent, ever widening its knowledge. Then +it may have, in no contemptible measure, a joyful sense of creative +activity, a sense which a man of insight and conscience will prefer +to that he might derive from a poor, starved, fragmentary, inadequate +creation. And at some epochs no other creation is possible. Still, in +full measure, the sense of creative activity belongs only to genuine +creation; in literature we must never forget that. But what true man of +letters ever can forget it? It is no such common matter for a gifted +nature to come into possession of a current of true and living ideas, +and to produce amidst the inspiration of them, that we are likely to +underrate it. The glorious epochs of AEschylus and Shakespeare make us +feel their pre-eminence. In an epoch like those is the true life of +literature; there is the promised land towards which criticism can only +beckon. + + +_IV.--Should We Have an Academy?_ + +It is impossible to put down a book like the history of the French +Academy by Pellisson and D'Olivet without being led to reflect upon +the absence in our own country of any institution like the French +Academy, upon the probable causes of this absence, and upon its +results. Improvement of the language was the declared grand aim for the +operations of that academy. Its statutes of foundation say expressly +that "the Academy's principal function shall be to work with all +the care and all the diligence possible at giving sure rules to our +language, and rendering it pure, eloquent and capable of treating +the arts and sciences." It is said that Richelieu had it in his mind +that French should succeed Latin in its general ascendancy, as Latin +had succeeded Greek. If it were so, even this wish has to some extent +been fulfilled. This was not all Richelieu had in his mind, however. +The new academy was meant to be a literary tribunal, a high court of +letters, and this is what it has really been. + +Such an effort, to set up a recognised authority, imposing on us a +high standard in matters of intellect and taste, has many enemies in +human nature. We all of us like to go our own way, and not to be forced +out of the atmosphere of commonplace habitual to most of us. We like +to be suffered to lie comfortably on the old straw of our habits, +especially of our intellectual habits, even though this straw may not +be very fine and clean. But if this effort to limit the freedom of our +lower nature finds enemies in human nature, it also finds auxiliaries +in it. Man alone of living creatures, says Cicero, goes feeling after +the discovery of an order, a law of good taste; other creatures +submissively fulfil the law of their nature. + +Now in France, says M. Sainte-Beuve, "the first consideration for us is +not whether we are amused and pleased by a work of art or of mind, or +is it whether we are touched by it. What we seek above all to learn is +whether we were right in being amused with it, and in applauding it, +and in being moved by it." A Frenchman has, to a considerable degree, +what one may call a conscience in intellectual matters. Seeing this, we +are on the road to see why the French have their Academy and we have +nothing of the kind. + +What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of our nation? +Our greatest admirers would not claim for us an open and clear mind, +a quick and flexible intelligence. Rather would they allege as our +chief spiritual characteristics energy and honesty--most important and +fruitful qualities in the intellectual and spiritual, as in the moral +sphere, for, of what we call genius, energy is the most essential +part. Now, what that energy, which is the life of genius, above +everything demands and insists upon, is freedom--entire independence of +authority, prescription and routine, the fullest power to extend as +it will. Therefore, a nation whose chief spiritual characteristic is +energy will not be very apt to set up in intellectual matters a fixed +standard, an authority like an academy. By this it certainly escapes +real inconveniences and dangers, and it can, at the same time, reach +undeniably splendid heights in poetry and science. We have Shakespeare, +and we have Newton. In the intellectual sphere there can be no higher +names. + +On the other hand, some of the requisites of intellectual work +are specially the affair of quickness of mind and flexibility of +intelligence. In prose literature they are of first-rate importance. +These are elements that can, to a certain degree, be appropriated, +while the free activity of genius cannot. Academies consecrate and +maintain them, and therefore a nation with an eminent turn for them +naturally establishes academies. + + +_V.--Our Loss Through Provinciality_ + +How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose! How much better do +the productions of its spirit show in the qualities of genius than in +the qualities of intelligence! But the question as to the utility of +academies to the intellectual life of a nation is not settled when we +say that we have never had an academy, yet we have, confessedly, a very +great literature. It is by no means sure that either our literature +or the general intellectual life of our nation has got already +without academies all that academies can give. Our literature, in +spite of the genius manifested in it, may fall short in form, method, +precision, proportions, arrangement--all things where intelligence +proper comes in. It may be weak in prose, full of haphazard, crudeness, +provincialism, eccentricity, violence, blundering; and instead of +always fixing our thoughts upon the points in which our literature is +strong, we should, from time to time, fix them upon those in which +it is weak. In France, the Academy serves as a sort of centre and +rallying-point to educated opinion, and gives it a force which it has +not got here. In the bulk of the intellectual work of a nation which +has no centre, no intellectual metropolis like an academy, there is +observable a note of provinciality. Great powers of mind will make a +man think profoundly, but not even great powers of mind will keep his +taste and style perfectly sound and sure if he is left too much to +himself with no sovereign organ of opinion near him. + +Even men like Jeremy Taylor and Burke suffer here. Theirs is too often +extravagant prose; prose too much suffered to indulge its caprices; +prose at too great a distance from the centre of good taste; prose with +the note of provinciality; Asiatic prose, somewhat barbarously rich and +overloaded. The note of provinciality in Addison is to be found in the +commonplace of his ideas, though his style is classical. Where there +is no centre like an academy, if you have genius and powerful ideas, +you are apt not to have the best style going; if you have precision of +style and not genius, you are apt not to have the best ideas going. + +The provincial spirit exaggerates the value of its ideas for want of +a high standard at hand by which to try them; it is hurried away by +fancies; it likes and dislikes too passionately, too exclusively; its +admiration weeps hysterical tears, and its disapprobation foams at the +mouth. So we get the eruptive and aggressive manner in literature. Not +having the lucidity of a large and centrally-placed intelligence, the +provincial spirit has not its graciousness; it does not persuade, it +makes war; it has not urbanity, the tone of the city, of the centre, +the tone that always aims at a spiritual and intellectual effect. It +loves hard-hitting rather than persuading. The newspaper, with its +party spirit, its resolute avoidance of shades and distinctions, is +its true literature. In England there needs a miracle of genius like +Shakespeare to produce balance of mind, and a miracle of intellectual +delicacy like Dr. Newman's to produce urbanity of style. + +The reader will ask for some practical conclusion about the +establishment of an academy in this country, and perhaps I shall hardly +give him the one he expects. Nations have their own modes of acting, +and these modes are not easily changed; they are even consecrated when +great things have been done in them. When a literature has produced +a Shakespeare and a Milton, when it has even produced a Barrow and a +Burke, it cannot well abandon its traditions; it can hardly begin at +this late time of day with an institution like the French Academy. An +academy quite like the French Academy, a sovereign organ of the highest +literary opinion, a recognised authority in matters of intellectual +tone and taste, we shall hardly have, and perhaps ought not to wish to +have. But then every one amongst us with any turn for literature at all +will do well to remember to what shortcomings and excesses, which such +an academy tends to correct, we are liable, and the more liable, of +course, for not having it. He will do well constantly to try himself in +respect of these, steadily to widen his culture, and severely to check +in himself the provincial spirit. + + +_VI.--Some Illustrative Criticisms_ + +To try and approach Truth on one side after another, not to strive or +cry, not to persist in pressing forward on any one side with violence +and self-will--it is only thus that mortals may hope to gain any vision +of the mysterious goddess whom we shall never see except in outline. + +The grand power of poetry is the power of dealing with things so as to +awaken in us a wonderfully full, new and intimate sense of them and +of our relation with them, so that we feel ourselves to be in contact +with the essential nature of those objects, to have their secret, and +be in harmony with them, and this feeling calms and satisfies us as no +other can. Maurice de Guerin manifested this magical power of poetry in +singular eminence. His passion for perfection disdained all poetical +work that was not perfectly adequate and felicitous. + +His sister Eugenie de Guerin has the same characteristic +quality--distinction. Of this quality the world is impatient; it +chafes against it, rails at it, insults it, hates it, but ends by +receiving its influence and by undergoing its law. This quality at last +inexorably corrects the world's blunders, and fixes the world's ideals. + +Heine claimed that he was "a brave soldier in the war of the liberation +of humanity." That was his significance. He was, if not pre-eminently +a brave, yet a brilliant soldier in the war of liberation of humanity. +He was not an adequate interpreter of the modern world, but only a +brilliant soldier. + +Born in 1754, and dying in 1824, Joseph Joubert chose to hide his life; +but he was a man of extraordinary ardour in the search for truth and +of extraordinary fineness in the perception of it. He was one of those +wonderful lovers of light who, when they have an idea to put forth, +brood long over it first, and wait patiently till it shines. + + + + +GEORGE BRANDES + +Main Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century + + George Brandes was born in Copenhagen on February 4, 1842, and + was educated at the University of Copenhagen. The appearance + of his "AEsthetic Studies" in 1868 established his reputation + among men of letters of all lands. His criticism received a + philosophic bent from his study of John Stuart Mill, Comte, and + Renan. Complaint is often made of the bias exhibited by Brandes + in his works, which is somewhat of a blemish on the breadth + of his judgment. This bias finds its chief expression in his + anti-clericalism. His publications number thirty-three volumes, + and include works on history, literature, and criticism. He + has written studies of Shakespeare, of Lord Beaconsfield, of + Ibsen, and of Ferdinand Lassalle. His greatest work is the "Main + Currents of the Literature of the Nineteenth Century." The field + covered is so vast that any attempted synopsis of the volume is + impossible here, so in this place we merely indicate the scope of + Brandes's monumental work, and state his general conclusions. + + +_The Man and the Book_ + +This remarkable essay in literary criticism is limited to the first +half of the nineteenth century; it concludes with the historical +turning-point of 1848. Within this period the author discovers, first, +a reaction against the literature of the eighteenth century; and then, +the vanquishment of that reaction. Or, in other words, there is first +a fading away and disappearance of the ideas and feelings of the +preceding century, and then a return of the ideas of progress in new +and higher waves. + +"Literary history is, in its profoundest significance, psychology, the +study, the history of the soul"; and literary criticism is, with our +author, nothing less than the interior history of peoples. Whether we +happen to agree or to disagree with his personal sympathies, which +lie altogether with liberalism and whether his interpretation of these +complex movements be accepted or rejected by future criticism, it is at +least unquestionable that his estimate of his science is the right one, +and that his method is the right one, and that no one stands beside +Brandes as an exponent. + +The historical movement of the years 1800 to 1848 is here likened to a +drama, of which six different literary groups represent the six acts. +The first three acts incorporate the reaction against progress and +liberty. They are, first, the French Emigrant Literature, inspired +by Rousseau; secondly, the semi-Catholic Romantic school of Germany, +wherein the reaction has separated itself more thoroughly from the +contemporary struggle for liberty, and has gained considerably in +depth and vigour; and, thirdly, the militant and triumphant reaction +as shown in Joseph de Maistre, Lamennais, Lamartine and Victor Hugo, +standing out for pope and monarch. The drama of reaction has here come +to its climax; and the last three acts are to witness its fall, and the +revival, in its place, of the ideas of liberty and of progress. + +"It is one man, Byron, who produces the revulsion in the great drama." +And Byron and his English contemporaries, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, +Keats and Shelley, hold the stage in the fourth act, "Naturalism in +England." The fifth act belongs to the Liberal movement in France, the +"French Romantic School," including the names of Lamennais, Lamartine +and Hugo in their second phase; and also those of De Musset and George +Sand. The movement passes from France into "Young Germany," where the +sixth act is played by Heine, Ruge, Feuerbach and others; and the +ardent revolutionary writers of France and of Germany together prepare +for the great political transformation of 1848. + + +_I.--The Emigrant Literature_ + +At the beginning of our period, France was subjected to two successive +tyrannies: those, namely, of the Convention and of the Empire, both of +which suppressed all independent thought and literature. Writers were, +perforce, emigrants beyond the frontiers of French power, and were, one +and all, in opposition to the Reign of Terror, or to the Napoleonic +tyranny, or to both; one and all they were looking forward to the new +age which should come. + +There was, therefore, a note of expectancy in this emigrant literature, +which had also the advantage of real knowledge, gained in long exile, +of foreign lands and peoples. Although it reacts against the dry and +narrow rationalism of the eighteenth century, it is not as yet a +complete reaction against the Liberalism of that period; the writers +of the emigrant group are still ardent in the cause of Liberty. They +are contrary to the spirit of Voltaire; but they are all profoundly +influenced by Rousseau. + +Chateaubriand's romances, "Atala" and "Rene," Rousseau's "The New +Heloise" and Goethe's "Werther" are the subjects of studies which lead +our critic to a consideration of that new spiritual condition of which +they are the indications. "All the spiritual maladies," he says, "which +make their appearance at this time may be regarded as the products +of two great events--the emancipation of the individual and the +emancipation of thought." + +Every career now lies open, potentially, to the individual. His +opportunities, and therefore his desires, but not his powers, have +become boundless; and "inordinate desire is always accompanied by +inordinate melancholy." His release from the old order, which limited +his importance, has set him free for self-idolatry; the old laws +have broken down, and everything now seems permissible. He no longer +feels himself part of a whole; he feels himself to be a little world +which reflects the great world. The belief in the saving power of +enlightenment had been rudely shaken, and the minds of men were +confused like an army which receives contradictory orders in the midst +of a battle. Senancour, Nodier and Benjamin Constant have left us +striking romances picturing the human spirit in this dilemma; they show +also a new feeling for Nature, new revelations of subjectivity, and new +ideas of womanhood and of passion. + +But of the emigrant literature Madame de Stael is the chief and +central figure. The lawless savagery of the Revolution did not weaken +her fidelity to personal and political freedom. "She wages war with +absolutism in the state and hypocrisy in society. She teaches her +countrymen to appreciate the characteristics and literature of the +neighbouring nations; she breaks down with her own hands the wall of +self-sufficiency with which victorious France had surrounded itself. +Barante, with his perspective view of eighteenth-century France, only +continues and completes her work." + + +_II.--The Romantic School in Germany_ + +German Romanticism continues the growing reaction against the +eighteenth century; yet, though it is essentially reaction, it is not +mere reaction, but contains the seeds of a new development. It is +intellectual, poetical, philosophical and full of real life. + +This literary period, marked by the names of Hoelderlin, A. W. Schlegel, +Tieck, Jean Paul Richter, Schleiermacher, Wackenroder, Novalis, Arnim, +Brentano, resulted in little that has endured. It produced no typical +forms; the character of its literature is musical rather than plastic; +its impulse is not a clear perception or creation, but an infinite and +ineffable aspiration. + +An intenser spiritual life was at once the impulse and the goal of +the Romanticists, in whom wonder and infinite desire are born again. +A sympathetic interest in the fairy tale and the legend, in the face +of Nature and in her creatures, in history, institutions and law, and +a keener emotional sensitiveness in poetry, were the result of this +refreshed interior life. In religion, the movement was towards the +richly-coloured mystery and child-like faith of Catholicism; and in +respect of human love it was towards freedom, spontaneity, intensity, +and against the hard bonds of social conventions. + +But its emotions became increasingly morbid, abnormal and ineffectual. +Romanticism tended really, not to the spiritual emancipation that was +its avowed aim, but to a refinement of sensuality; an indolent and +passive enjoyment is its actual goal; and it repudiates industry and +utility as the philistine barriers which exclude us from Paradise. +Retrogression, the going back to a fancied Paradise or Golden Age, is +the central idea of Romanticism, and is the secret of the practical +ineffectiveness of the movement. + +Friedrich Schlegel's romance, "Lucinde," is a very typical work of +this period. It is based on the Romantic idea that life and poetry are +identical, and its aim is to counsel the transformation of our actual +life into a poem or work of art. It is a manifesto of self-absorption +and of subjectivity; the reasoned defence of idleness, of enjoyment, of +lawlessness, of the arbitrary expression of the Self, supreme above all. + +The mysticism of Novalis, who preferred sickness to health, night to +day, and invested death itself with sensual delights, is described by +himself as voluptuousness. It is full of a feverish, morbid desire, +which becomes at last the desire for nothingness. The "blue flower," in +his story "Heinrich von Ofterdingen," is the ideal, personal happiness, +sought for in all Romanticism, but by its very nature never attainable. + + +_III.--The Reaction in France_ + +Herein we have the culmination of the reactionary movement. Certain +authors are grouped together as labouring for the re-establishment of +the fallen power of authority; and by the principle of authority is to +be understood "the principle which assumes the life of the individual +and of the nation to be based upon reverence for inherited tradition." +Further, "the principle of authority in general stood or fell with the +authority of the Church. When that was undermined, it drew all other +authorities with it in its fall." + +After a study of the Revolution in its quality as a religious movement, +and the story of the Concordat, our author traces the genesis of +this extreme phase of the reaction. Its promoters were all of noble +birth and bound by close ties to the old royal families; their aim +was political rather than religious; "they craved for religion as +a panacea for lawlessness." Their ruling idea was the principle of +externality, as opposed to that of inward, personal feeling and private +investigation; it was the principle of theocracy, as opposed to the +sovereignty of the people; it was the principle of power, as opposed to +the principles of human rights and liberties. + +Chateaubriand's famous book, "Le Genie du Christianisme," devoid of +real feeling, attempts to vindicate authority by means of an appeal +to sentiment, as if taking for granted that a reasoned faith was now +impossible. His point of view is romantic, and therefore, religiously, +false; his reasoning is of the "how beautiful!" style. + +But the principle was enthroned by Count Joseph de Maistre, a very +different man. The minister of the King of Sardinia at the court +of Russia, he gained the emperor's confidence by his strong and +pure character, his royalist principles, and his talents. His more +important works, "Du Pape," "De l'Eglise Gallicane," and "Soirees de +St. Petersbourg," are the most uncompromising defence of political +and religious autocracy. The fundamental idea of his works is that +"there is no human society without government, no government without +sovereignty, and no sovereignty without infallibility." Beside De +Maistre stands Bonald, a man of the same views, but without the other's +daring and versatile wit. Chateaubriand's prose epic "Les Martyrs," the +mystically sensual writings of Madame Kruedener, and the lyric poetry +of Lamartine and Victor Hugo further popularised the reaction, which +reached its breaking point in Lamennais. + +It was at this moment, April, 1824, that the news came of Byron's death +in Greece. The illusion dissolved; the reaction came to an end. The +principle of authority fell, never to rise again; and the Immanuelistic +school was succeeded by the Satanic. + + +_IV.--Naturalism in England_ + +The distinguishing character which our author discovers in the English +poets is a love of Nature, of the country and the sea, of domestic +animals and vegetation. This Naturalism, common to Wordsworth, +Coleridge, Scott, Keats, Moore, Shelley and Byron, becomes, when +transferred to social interests, revolutionary; the English poet is +a Radical. Literary questions interest him not; he is at heart a +politician. + +The political background of English intellectual life at this period +is painted forcibly and in the darkest tones. It was "dark with +terror produced in the middle classes by the excesses of the liberty +movement in France, dark with the tyrannic lusts of proud Tories and +the Church's oppressions, dark with the spilt blood of Irish Catholics +and English artisans." In the midst of all this misery, Wordsworth and +Coleridge recalled the English mind to the love of real Nature and to +the love of liberty. Wordsworth's conviction was that in town life +and its distractions men had forgotten Nature, and had been punished +for it; constant social intercourse had dissipated their talents and +impaired their susceptibility to simple and pure impressions. His +naturalism is antagonistic to all official creeds; it is akin to the +old Greek conception of Nature, and is impregnated with pantheism. + +The separate studies which follow, dealing with the natural Romanticism +of Coleridge, Southey's Oriental Romanticism, the Lake school's +conception of Liberty, the Historic Naturalism of Scott, the sensuous +poetry of Keats, the poetry of Irish opposition and revolt, Thomas +Campbell's poetry of freedom, the Republican Humanism of Landor, +Shelley's Radical Naturalism, and like subjects, are of the highest +importance to every English reader who would understand the time in +which he lives. But Byron's is the heroic figure in this act. "Byron's +genius takes possession of him, and makes him great and victorious in +his argument, directing his aim with absolute certainty to the vital +points." Byron's whole being burned with the profoundest compassion +for the immeasurable sufferings of humanity. It was liberty that he +worshipped, and he died for liberty. + + +_V.--The Romantic School in France_ + +During the Revolution the national property had been divided into +twenty times as many hands as before, and with the fall of Napoleon +the industrial period begins. All restrictions had been removed +from industry and commerce, and capital became the moving power of +society and the object of individual desires. The pursuit of money +helps to give to the literature of the day its romantic, idealistic +stamp. Balzac alone, however, made money the hero of his epic. Other +great writers of the period, Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, George +Sand, Beyle, Merimee, Theophile Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, kept as far as +possible from the new reality. + +The young Romanticists of 1830 burned with a passion for art and a +detestation of drab bourgeoisie. A break with tradition was demanded +in all the arts; the original, the unconscious, the popular, were what +they aimed at. It was now, as in Hugo's dramas, that the passionate +plebeian appeared on the scene as hero; Merimee, as in "Carmen," +painted savage emotions; Nodier's children spoke like real children; +George Sand depicted, in woman, not conscious virtue and vice, but the +innate nobility and natural goodness of a noble woman's heart. The poet +was no longer looked on as a courtier, but as the despised high-priest +of humanity. + +The French Romantic school is the greatest literary school of the +nineteenth century. It displayed three main tendencies--the endeavour +to reproduce faithfully some real piece of past history or some phase +of modern life; the endeavour after perfection of form; and enthusiasm +for great religious or social reformatory ideas. These three tendencies +are traced out in the ideals and work of the brilliant authors of the +period; in George Sand, for instance, who proclaimed that the mission +of art is a mission of sentiment and love; and in Balzac, who views +society as the scientist investigates Nature--"he never moralises and +condemns; he never allows himself to be led by disgust or enthusiasm to +describe otherwise than truthfully; nothing is too small, nothing is +too great to be examined and explained." + +The impressions which our author gives of Sainte-Beuve, Gautier, +George Sand, Balzac and Merimee are vivid and concrete; they are high +achievements in literary portraiture, set in a real historic background. + + +_VI.--Young Germany_ + +The personality, writings, and actions of Byron had an extraordinary +influence upon "Young Germany," a movement initiated by Heine and +Boerne, and characterised by a strong craving for liberty. "Byron, +with his contempt for the real negation of liberty that lay concealed +beneath the 'wars of liberty' against Napoleon, with his championship +of the oppressed, his revolt against social custom, his sensuality and +spleen, his passionate love of liberty in every domain, seemed to the +men of that day to be an embodiment of all that they understood by the +modern spirit, modern poetry." + +The literary group known as Young Germany has no creative minds of the +highest, and only one of very high rank, namely, Heine. "It denied, it +emancipated, it cleared up, it let in fresh air. It is strong through +its doubt, its hatred of thraldom, its individualism." The Germany of +those days has been succeeded by a quite new Germany, organised to +build up and to put forth material strength, and the writers of the +first half of the nineteenth century, who were always praising France +and condemning the sluggishness of their own country, are but little +read. + +The literary figures of this period who are painted by our author, are +Boerne, Heine, Immermann, Menzel, Gutzkow, Laube, Mundt, Rahel Varnhagen +von Ense, Bettina von Arnim, Charlotte Stieglitz, and many others, to +whose writings, in conjunction with those of the French Romanticists, +Brandes ascribes the general revolt of the oppressed peoples of Europe +in 1848. Of the men of that date he says: "They had a faith that could +remove mountains, and a hope that could shake the earth. Liberty, +parliament, national unity, liberty of the Press, republic, were to +them magic words, at the very sound of which their hearts leaped like +the heart of a youth who suddenly sees his beloved." + + + + +ROBERT BURTON + +The Anatomy of Melancholy + + Robert Burton was born on February 8, 1576, of an old family, at + Lindley, Leicestershire, England; was educated at the free school + of Sutton Coldfield, Warwickshire, and at Brasenose College, + Oxford, and in 1599 was elected student of Christ Church. In + 1616 he was presented with the vicarage of St. Thomas, Oxford, + and in 1636 with the rectory of Segrave, in Leicestershire, and + kept both these livings until his death. But he lived chiefly + in his rooms at Christ Church, Oxford, where, burrowing in the + treasures of the Bodleian Library, he elaborated his learned + and whimsical book. He died on January 25, 1639, and was buried + in Christ Church Cathedral. The "Anatomy of Melancholy" is + an enormous compendium of sound sense, sly humour, universal + erudition, mediaeval science, fantastic conceits, and noble + sentiments, arranged in the form of a most methodical treatise, + divided, and subdivided again, into sections dealing with every + conceivable aspect of this fell disorder. It is an intricate + tissue of quotations and allusions, and its interest lies as + much in its texture as in its argument. The "Anatomy" consists + of an introduction, "Democritus Junior to the Reader," and + then of three "Partitions," of which the first treats of the + Causes of Melancholy, the second of its Cure, and the third + of Love-Melancholy, wherewith is included the Melancholy of + Superstition. + + +_I.--Democritus Junior to the Reader_ + +Gentle reader, I presume thou wilt be very inquisitive to know what +antic or personate actor this is that so insolently intrudes upon this +common theatre to the world's view, arrogating another man's name; +whence he is, why he doth it, and what he hath to say. Seek not after +that which is hid; if the contents please thee, suppose the man in the +moon, or whom thou wilt, to be the author; I would not willingly be +known. + +I have masked myself under this visard because, like Democritus, +I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life in the +university, penned up most part in my study. Though by my profession +a divine, yet, out of a running wit, an unconstant, unsettled mind, I +had a great desire to have some smattering in all subjects; which Plato +commends as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a slave +of one science, as most do, but to rove abroad, to have an oar in every +man's boat, to taste of every dish, and to sip of every cup; which, +saith Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle. + +I have little, I want nothing; all my treasure is in Minerva's tower. +Though I lead a monastic life, myself my own theatre, I hear and see +what is done abroad, how others run, ride, turmoil, in court and +country. Amid the gallantry and misery of the world, jollity, pride, +perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy, subtlety, knavery, +candour, and integrity, I rub on in private, left to a solitary life +and mine own domestic discontents. + +So I call myself Democritus, to assume a little more liberty of speech, +or, if you will needs know, for that reason which Hippocrates relates, +how, coming to visit him one day, he found Democritus in his garden +at Abdera, under a shady bower, with a book on his knees, busy at +his study, sometimes writing, sometimes walking. The subject of his +book was melancholy and madness. About him lay the carcasses of many +several beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomised; not that he did +contemn God's creatures, but to find out the seat of this black bile, +or melancholy, and how it is engendered in men's bodies, to the intent +he might better cure it in himself, and by his writings teach others +how to avoid it; which good intent of his Democritus Junior is bold to +imitate, and because he left it imperfect and it is now lost, to revive +again, prosecute, and finish in this treatise. I seek not applause; I +fear good men's censures, and to their favourable acceptance I submit +my labours. But as the barking of a dog I contemn those malicious and +scurrile obloquies, flouts, calumnies of railers and detractors. + +Of the necessity of what I have said, if any man doubt of it, I shall +desire him to make a brief survey of the world, as Cyprian adviseth +Donate; supposing himself to be transported to the top of some high +mountain, and thence to behold the tumults and chances of this wavering +world, he cannot choose but either laugh at, or pity it. St. Hierom, +out of a strong imagination, being in the wilderness, conceived that he +saw them dancing in Rome; and if thou shalt climb to see, thou shalt +soon perceive that all the world is mad, that it is melancholy, dotes; +that it is a common prison of gulls, cheats, flatterers, etc., and +needs to be reformed. Kingdoms and provinces are melancholy; cities +and families, all creatures vegetal, sensible and rational, all sorts, +sects, ages, conditions, are out of tune; from the highest to the +lowest have need of physic. Who is not brain-sick? Oh, giddy-headed +age! Mad endeavours! Mad actions! + +If Democritus were alive now, and should but see the superstition of +our age, our religious madness, so many professed Christians, yet so +few imitators of Christ, so much talk and so little conscience, so many +preachers and such little practice, such variety of sects--how dost +thou think he might have been affected? What would he have said to see, +hear, and read so many bloody battles, such streams of blood able to +turn mills, to make sport for princes, without any just cause? Men well +proportioned, carefully brought up, able in body and mind, led like +so many beasts to the slaughter in the flower of their years, without +remorse and pity, killed for devils' food, 40,000 at once! At once? +That were tolerable; but these wars last always; and for many ages, +nothing so familiar as this hacking and hewing, massacres, murders, +desolations! Who made creatures, so peaceable, born to love, mercy, +meekness, so to rave like beasts and run to their own destruction? + +How would our Democritus have been affected to see so many lawyers, +advocates, so many tribunals, so little justice; so many laws, yet +never more disorders; the tribunal a labyrinth; to see a lamb executed, +a wolf pronounce sentence? What's the market but a place wherein they +cozen one another, a trap? Nay, what's the world itself but a vast +chaos, a theatre of hypocrisy, a shop of knavery, a scene of babbling, +the academy of vice? A warfare, in which you must kill or be killed, +wherein every man is for himself; no charity, love, friendship, fear of +God, alliance, affinity, consanguinity, can contain them. Our goddess +is Queen Money, to whom we daily offer sacrifice. It's not worth, +virtue, wisdom, valour, learning, honesty, religion, for which we are +respected, but money, greatness, office, honour. All these things are +easy to be discerned, but how would Democritus have been moved had he +seen the secrets of our hearts! All the world is mad, and every member +of it, and I can but wish myself and them a good physician, and all of +us a better mind. + + +_II.--The Causes of Melancholy_ + +The impulsive cause of these miseries in man was the sin of our first +parent, Adam; and this, belike, is that which our poets have shadowed +unto us in the tale of Pandora's Box, which, being opened through +her curiosity, filled the world full of all manner of diseases. But +as our sins are the principal cause, so the instrumental causes of +our infirmities are as diverse as the infirmities themselves. Stars, +heavens, elements, and all those creatures which God hath made, are +armed against sinners. But the greatest enemy to man is man, his own +executioner, a wolf, a devil to himself and others. Again, no man +amongst us so sound that hath not some impediment of body or mind. +There are diseases acute and chronic, first and secondary, lethal, +salutary, errant, fixed, simple, compound, etc. Melancholy is the most +eminent of the diseases of the phantasy or imagination; and dotage, +phrensy, madness, hydrophobia, lycanthropy, St. Vitus' dance, and +ecstasy are forms of it. + +Melancholy is either in disposition or habit. In disposition it is that +transitory melancholy which comes and goes upon every small occasion +of sorrow; we call him melancholy that is dull, sad, sour, lumpish, +ill-disposed, and solitary; and from these dispositions no man living +is free; none so wise, patient, happy, generous, or godly, that can +vindicate himself. + +Melancholy is a cold and dry, thick, black, and sour humour, purged +from the spleen; it is a bridle to the other two hot humours, blood and +choler, preserving them in the blood and nourishing the bones. Such as +have the Moon, Saturn, Mercury, misaffected in their genitures; such as +live in over-cold or over-hot climates; such as are solitary by nature; +great students, given to much contemplation; such as lead a life out of +action; all are most subject to melancholy. + +Six things are much spoken of amongst physicians as principal causes +of this disease; if a man be melancholy, he hath offended in one of +the six. They are diet, air, exercise, sleeping, and walking, and +perturbations of the mind. + +Idleness, the badge of gentry, or want of exercise, the bane of body +and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief author of all mischief, +one of the seven deadly sins, and a sole cause of this and many other +maladies, the devil's cushion and chief reposal, begets melancholy +sooner than anything else. Such as live at ease, and have no ordinary +employment to busy themselves about, cannot compose themselves to do +aught; they cannot abide work, though it be necessary, easy, as to +dress themselves, write a letter, or the like. He or she that is idle, +be they never so rich, fortunate, happy, let them have all that heart +can desire, they shall never be pleased, never well in body and mind, +but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping, +sighing, grieving, suspecting, offended with the world, with every +object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away with some +foolish phantasy or other. + +Others, giving way to the passions and perturbations of fear, grief, +shame, revenge, hatred, malice, etc., are torn in pieces, as Actaeon was +with his dogs, and crucify their own souls. Every society and private +family is full of envy; it takes hold of all sorts of men, from prince +to ploughman; scarce three in a company, but there is siding, faction, +emulation, between two of them, some jar, private grudge, heart-burning +in the midst. Scarce two great scholars in an age, but with bitter +invectives they fall foul one on the other. Being that we are so +peevish and perverse, insolent and proud, so factious and seditious, +malicious and envious, we do maul and vex one another, torture, +disquiet, and precipitate ourselves into that gulf of woes and cares, +aggravate our misery and melancholy, and heap upon us hell and eternal +damnation. + + +_III.--The Cure of Melancholy_ + +"It matters not," saith Paracelsus, "whether it be God or the devil, +angels or unclean spirits, cure him, so that he be eased." Some have +recourse to witches; but much better were it for patients that are +troubled with melancholy to endure a little misery in this life than +to hazard their souls' health for ever. All unlawful cures are to be +refused, and it remains to treat of those that are admitted. + +These are such as God hath appointed, by virtue of stones, herbs, +plants, meats, and the like, which are prepared and applied to our use +by the art and industry of physicians, God's intermediate ministers. +We must begin with prayer and then use physic; not one without the +other, but both together. + +Diet must be rectified in substance and in quantity; air rectified; +for there is much in choice of place and of chamber, in opportune +opening and shutting of windows, and in walking abroad at convenient +times. Exercise must be rectified of body and mind. Hawking, hunting, +fishing are good, especially the last, which is still and quiet, and +if so be the angler catch no fish, yet he hath a wholesome walk and +pleasant shade by the sweet silver streams. But the most pleasant of +all pastimes is to make a merry journey now and then with some good +companions, to visit friends, see cities, castles, towns, to walk +amongst orchards, gardens, bowers, to disport in some pleasant plain. +St. Bernard, in the description of his monastery, is almost ravished +with the pleasures of it. "Good God," saith he, "what a company of +pleasures hast Thou made for man!" But what is so fit and proper to +expel idleness and melancholy as study? What so full of content as +to read, and see maps, pictures, statues, jewels, and marbles, so +exquisite to be beheld that, as Chrysostom thinketh, "if any man be +sickly or troubled in mind, and shall but stand over against one of +Phidias's images, he will forget all care in an instant?" + +If thou receivest wrong, compose thyself with patience to bear it. +Thou shalt find greatest ease to be quiet. I say the same of scoffs, +slanders, detractions, which tend to our disgrace; 'tis but opinion; +if we would neglect or contemn them, they would reflect disgrace on +them that offered them. "Yea, but I am ashamed, disgraced, degraded, +exploded; my notorious crimes and villainies are come to light!" Be +content; 'tis but a nine days' wonder; 'tis heavy, ghastly, fearful +news at first, but thine offence will be forgotten in an instant. Thou +art not the first offender, nor shalt thou be the last. If he alone +should accuse thee that were faultless, how many executioners, how +many accusers, would thou have? Shall every man have his desert, thou +wouldst peradventure be a saint in comparison. Be not dismayed; it is +human to err. Be penitent, ask forgiveness, and vex thyself no more. +Doth the moon care for the barking of a dog? + + +_IV.--Love-Melancholy_ + +There will not be wanting those who will much discommend this treatise +of love-melancholy, and object that it is too light for a divine, +too phantastical, and fit only for a wanton poet. So that they may +be admired for grave philosophers, and staid carriage, they cannot +abide to hear talk of love-toys; in all their outward actions they are +averse; and yet, in their cogitations, they are all but as bad, if not +worse than others. I am almost afraid to relate the passions which this +tyrant love causeth among men; it hath wrought such stupendous and +prodigious effects, such foul offences. + +As there be divers causes of this heroical love, so there be many good +remedies, among which good counsel and persuasion are of great moment, +especially if it proceed from a wise, fatherly, discreet person. They +will lament and howl for a while; but let him proceed, by foreshewing +the miserable dangers that will surely happen, the pains of hell, joys +of paradise, and the like; and this is a very good means, for love is +learned of itself, but hardly left without a tutor. + +In sober sadness, marriage is a bondage, a thraldom, a hindrance to all +good enterprises; "he hath married a wife, and therefore cannot come"; +a rock on which many are saved, many are cast away. Not that the thing +is evil in itself, or troublesome, but full of happiness, and a thing +which pleases God; but to indiscreet, sensual persons, it is a feral +plague, many times an hell itself. If thy wife be froward, all is in +an uproar; if wise and learned, she will be insolent and peevish; if +poor, she brings beggary; if young, she is wanton and untaught. Say +the best, she is a commanding servant; thou hadst better have taken a +good housewifely maid in her smock. Since, then, there is such hazard, +keep thyself as thou art; 'tis good to match, much better to be free. +Consider withal how free, how happy, how secure, how heavenly, in +respect, a single man is. + +But when all is said, since some be good, some bad, let's put it to the +venture. Marry while thou mayest, and take thy fortune as it falls. +Be not so covetous, so distrustful, so curious and nice, but let's +all marry; to-morrow is St. Valentine's Day. Since, then, marriage +is the last and best cure of heroical love, all doubts are cured and +impediments removed; God send us all good wives! + +Take this for a corollory and conclusion; as thou tenderest thine own +welfare in love-melancholy, in the melancholy of religion, and in all +other melancholy; observe this short precept--Be not solitary; be not +idle. + + + + +THOMAS CARLYLE + +On Heroes and Hero-Worship + + This is the last of four series of lectures which Carlyle (see + Vol. IX, p. 99) delivered in London in successive years, and is + the only series which was published. The "Lectures on Heroes" + were given in May, 1840, and were published, with emendations + and additions, from the reporter's notes in 1841. The preceding + series were on "German Literature," 1837; "The Successive Periods + of European Culture," 1838; and "The Revolutions of Modern + Europe," 1839. Carlyle's profound and impassioned belief in the + quasi-divine inspiration of great men, in the authoritative + nature of their "message," and in their historical effectiveness, + was a reaction against a way of writing history which finds the + origin of events in "movements," "currents," and "tendencies" + neglecting or minimising the power of personality. For Carlyle, + biography was the essential element in history; his view of + events was the dramatic view, as opposed to the scientific + view. It is idle to inquire which is the better or truer view, + where both are necessary. But Carlyle is here specially tilting + against a prejudice which has so utterly passed away that it + is difficult even to imagine it. This was to the effect that + eminent historical figures have been in some sense impostors. + This work suffers a good deal from its origin, but, like others + of Carlyle's writings, it has had great effect in discrediting a + barren and flippant rationalism. + + +_I.--The Hero as Divinity_ + +We have undertaken to discourse on great men, their manner of +appearance in our world's business, how they shaped themselves in the +world's history, what ideas men formed of them, and what work they did. +We are to treat of hero-worship and the heroic in human affairs. The +topic is as wide as universal history itself, for the history of what +man has accomplished in this world is, at bottom, the history of the +great men who have worked here. + +It is well said that a man's religion is the chief fact with regard to +him. I do not mean the Church creed which he professes, but the thing +that he does practically believe, the manner in which he feels himself +to be spiritually related to the unseen world. Was it heathenism, a +plurality of gods, a mere sensuous representation of the mystery of +life, and for chief recognised element therein physical force? Was it +Christianism; faith in an Invisible as the only reality; time ever +resting on eternity; pagan empire of force displaced by the nobler +supremacy of holiness? Was it scepticism, uncertainty, and inquiry +whether there was an unseen world at all, or perhaps unbelief and flat +denial? The answer to these questions gives us the soul of the history +of the man or nation. + +Odin, the central figure of Scandinavian paganism, shall be our emblem +of the hero as divinity. And in the first place I protest against the +theory that this paganism or any other religion has consisted of mere +quackery, priestcraft, and dupery. Quackery gives birth to nothing; +gives death to all. Man everywhere is the born enemy of lies, and +paganism, to its followers, was at one time earnestly true. Nor can +we admit that other theory, which attributed these mythologies to +allegory, or to the play of poetic minds. Pagan religion, like every +other, is indeed a symbol of what men felt about the universe, but a +practical guiding knowledge of this mysterious life of theirs, and not +a perfect poetic symbol of it, has been the want of men. The "Pilgrim's +Progress" is a just and beautiful allegory, but it could never have +preceded the faith which it symbolises. Men never risked their soul's +life on allegories; there was a kind of fact at the heart of paganism. + +To the primitive pagan thinker, who was simple as a child, yet had +a man's depth and strength, nature had as yet no name. It stood +naked, flashing in on him, beautiful, awful, unspeakable; nature was +preternatural. The world, which is now divine only to the gifted, was +then divine to whosoever would turn his eye upon it. Still more was the +body of man, and the mystery of his consciousness, an emblem to them of +God, and truly worshipful. + +How much more, then, was the worship of a hero reasonable--the +transcendent admiration of a great man! For great men are still +admirable. At bottom there is nothing else admirable. Admiration for +one higher than himself is to this hour the vivifying influence in +man's life, and is the germ of Christianity itself. The greatest of all +heroes is One whom we do not name here. + +Without doubt there was a first teacher and captain of these northern +peoples, an Odin palpable to the sense, a real hero of flesh and blood. +Tradition calls him inventor of the Runes, or Scandinavian alphabet, +and again of poetry. To the wild Norse souls this noble-hearted man was +hero, prophet, god. That the man Odin, speaking with a hero's voice and +heart, as with an impressiveness out of Heaven, told his people the +infinite importance of valour, how man thereby became a god; and that +his people believed this message of his, and thought it a message out +of Heaven, and believed him a divinity for telling it to them--this +seems to me the primary seed-grain of the Norse religion. For that +religion was a sternly impressive consecration of valour. + + +_II.--The Hero as Prophet_ + +We turn now to Mohammedanism among the Arabs for the second phase of +hero-worship, wherein the hero is not now regarded as a god, but as +one God-inspired, a prophet. Mohammed is not the most eminent prophet, +but is the one of whom we are freest to speak. Nor is he the truest of +prophets but I do esteem him a true one. Let us try to understand what +he meant with the world; what the world meant and means with him will +then be more answerable. + +Certainly he was no scheming impostor, no falsehood incarnate; theories +of that kind are the product of an age of scepticism, and indicate the +saddest spiritual paralysis. A false man found a religion? Why, a false +man cannot build a brick house! No Mirabeau, Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell, +no man adequate to do anything, but is first of all in right earnest +about it. Sincerity is the great characteristic of all men in any way +heroic. + +The Arabs are a notable people; their country itself is notable. +Consider that wide, waste horizon of sand, empty, silent like a sea; +you are all alone there, left alone with the universe; by day a fierce +sun blazing down with intolerable radiance; by night the great deep +heaven, with its stars--a fit country for a swift-handed, deep-hearted +race of men. The Arab character is agile, active, yet most meditative, +enthusiastic. Hospitable, taciturn, earnest, truthful, deeply +religious, the Arabs were a people of great qualities, waiting for the +day when they should become notable to all the world. + +Here, in the year 570 of our era, the man Mohammed was born, and grew +up in the bosom of the wilderness, alone with Nature and his own +thoughts. From an early age he had been remarked as a thoughtful man, +and his companions named him "The Faithful." He was forty before he +talked of any mission from Heaven. All this time living a peaceful +life, he was looking through the shows of things into things themselves. + +Then, having withdrawn to a cavern near Mecca for a month of prayer and +meditation, he told his wife Kadijah that, by the unspeakable favour of +Heaven, he was in doubt and darkness no longer, but saw it all. That +all these idols and formulas were nothing; that there was one God in +and over all; that God is great and is the reality. _Allah akbar_, +"God is great"; and then _Islam_, "we must submit to Him." + +This is yet the only true morality known. A man is right and +invincible, while he joins himself to the great deep law of the +world, in spite of all superficial laws, temporary appearances, +profit-and-loss calculations. This is the soul of Islam, and is +properly also the soul of Christianity. We are to receive whatever +befalls us as sent from God above. Islam means in its way the denial +of self, annihilation of self. This is yet the highest wisdom that +Heaven has revealed to our earth. In Mohammed, and in his Koran, I +find first of all sincerity, the total freedom from cant. For these +twelve centuries his religion has been the guidance of a fifth part of +mankind, and, above all, it has been a religion heartily believed. + +The Arab nation was a poor shepherd people; a hero-prophet was sent +down to them; within one century afterwards Arabia is at Grenada on +this hand, at Delhi on that! + + +_III.--The Hero as Poet_ + +The hero as divinity and as prophet are productions of old ages, not +to be repeated in the new. We are now to see our hero in the less +ambitious, but also less questionable, character of poet. For the hero +can be poet, prophet, king, priest, or what you will, according to the +kind of world he finds himself born into. I have no notion of a truly +great man that could not be all sorts of men. + +Indeed, the poet and prophet, participators in the open secret of the +universe, are one; though the prophet has seized the sacred mystery +rather on its moral side, and the poet on the aesthetic side. Poetry is +essentially a song; its thoughts are musical not in word only, but in +heart and in substance. + +Shakespeare and Dante are our two canonised poets; they dwell +apart, none equal, none second to them. Dante's book was written, in +banishment, with his heart's blood. His great soul, homeless on earth, +made its home more and more in that awful other world. The three +kingdoms--_Inferno_, _Purgatorio_, _Paradiso_--are like compartments of +a great supernatural world-cathedral, piled up there, stern, solemn, +awful; Dante's world of souls. It is the sincerest of all poems. +Sincerity here, too, we find to be the measure of worth. Intensity is +the prevailing character of his genius; his greatness lies in fiery +emphasis and depth; it is seen even in the graphic vividness of his +painting. Dante burns as a pure star, fixed in the firmament, at which +the great and high of all ages kindle themselves. + +As Dante embodies musically the inner life of the Middle Ages, so +Shakespeare embodies for us its outer life, its chivalries, courtesies, +humours, ambitions. Dante gave us the soul of Europe; Shakespeare gave +us its body. Of this Shakespeare of ours, the best judgment of Europe +is slowly pointing to the conclusion that he is the chief of all poets, +the greatest intellect who has left record of himself in the way of +literature. + +It is in portrait-painting, the delineation of men, that the greatness +of Shakespeare comes out most decisively. His calm, creative +perspicacity is unexampled. The word that will describe the thing +follows of itself from such clear intense sight of the thing. He takes +in all kinds of men--a Falstaff, Othello, Juliet, Coriolanus; sets them +all forth to us in their rounded completeness, loving, just, the equal +brother of all. + +The degree of vision that dwells in a man is a correct measure of +the man, and Shakespeare's is the greatest of intellects. Novalis +beautifully remarks of him that those dramas of his are products of +nature, too, deep as nature herself. Shakespeare's art is not artifice; +the noblest worth of it is not there by plan or pre-contrivance. The +latest generations of men will find new meanings in Shakespeare, new +elucidations of their own human being. + +Shakespeare, too, was a prophet, in his way, of an insight analogous to +the prophetic, though he took it up in another strain. Nature seemed to +this man also divine, unspeakable, deep as Tophet, high as heaven. "We +are such stuff as dreams are made of." There rises a kind of universal +psalm out of Shakespeare, not unfit to make itself heard among the +still more sacred psalms. + +England, before long, this island of ours, will hold but a small +fraction of the English; east and west to the antipodes there will be a +Saxondom covering great spaces of the globe. What is it that can keep +all these together into virtually one nation, so that they do not fall +out and fight, but live at peace? Here, I say, is an English king whom +no time or chance can dethrone! King Shakespeare shines over us all, as +the noblest, gentlest, yet strongest of rallying-signs; we can fancy +him as radiant aloft over all the nations of Englishmen, a thousand +years hence. Truly it is a great thing for a nation that it gets an +articulate voice. + + +_IV.--The Hero as Priest_ + +The priest, too, is a kind of prophet. In him, also, there is required +to be a light of inspiration. He presides over the worship of the +people, and is the uniter of them with the unseen Holy. He is their +spiritual captain, as the prophet is their spiritual king with many +captains. + +Luther and Knox were by express vocation priests, yet it will suit us +better here to consider them chiefly in their historical character as +reformers. The battling reformer is from time to time a needful and +inevitable phenomenon. Obstructions are never wanting; the very things +that were once indispensable furtherances become obstructions, and +need to be shaken off and left behind us--a business often of enormous +difficulty. + +We are to consider Luther as an idol-breaker, a bringer back of men to +reality, for that is the function of great men and teachers. Thus it +was that Luther said to the Pope, "This thing of yours that you call a +pardon of sins, is a bit of rag-paper with ink. It, and so much like +it, is nothing else. God alone can pardon sins. God's Church is not a +semblance, Heaven and Hell are not semblances. Standing on this, I, a +poor German monk, am stronger than you all." + +The most interesting phase which the Reformation anywhere assumes +is that of Puritanism, which even got itself established as a +Presbyterianism and National Church among the Scotch, and has produced +in the world very notable fruit. Knox was the chief priest and founder +of that faith which became the faith of Scotland, of New England, of +Oliver Cromwell; and that which Knox did for his nation we may really +call a resurrection as from death. The people began to live. Scotch +literature and thought, Scotch industry, James Watt, David Hume, Walter +Scott, Robert Burns--I find Knox and the Reformation acting in the +heart's core of every one of these persons and phenomena; I find that +without the Reformation they would not have been. + +Knox could not live but by fact. He is an instance to us how a +man, by sincerity itself, becomes heroic. We find in Knox a good, +honest, intellectual talent, no transcendent one; he was a narrow, +inconsiderable man as compared with Luther; but in heartfelt, +instinctive adherence to truth, in real sincerity, he has no superior. +His heart is of the true prophet cast. "He lies there," said the Earl +of Morton, at his grave, "who never feared the face of man." + + +_V.--The Hero as Man of Letters_ + +The hero as man of letters is a new and singular phenomenon. Living +in his squalid garret and rusty coat; ruling from his grave after +death whole nations and generations; he must be regarded as our most +important modern person. Such as he may be, he is the soul of all. +Intrinsically it is the same function which the old generations named a +prophet, priest, or divinity for doing. + +The three great prophets of the eighteenth century, that singular +age of scepticism, were Johnson, Rousseau, and Burns; they were not, +indeed, heroic bringers of the light, but heroic seekers of it, +struggling under mountains of impediment. + +As for Johnson, I have always considered him to be, by nature, one of +our great English souls. It was in virtue of his sincerity, of his +speaking still in some sort from the heart of nature, though in the +current artificial dialect, that Johnson was a prophet. The highest +gospel he preached was a kind of moral prudence, coupled with this +other great gospel, "Clear your mind of cant!" These two things, joined +together, were, perhaps, the greatest gospel that was possible at that +time. + +Of Rousseau and his heroism I cannot say so much. He was not a strong +man; but a morbid, excitable, spasmodic man; at best, intense rather +than strong. Yet, at least he was heartily in earnest, if ever man was; +his ideas possessed him like demons. + +The fault and misery of Rousseau was egoism, which is the source and +summary of all faults and miseries whatsoever. He had not perfected +himself into victory over mere desire; a mean hunger was still his +motive principle. He was a very vain man, hungry for the praises of +men. The whole nature of the man was poisoned; there was nothing but +suspicion, self-isolation, and fierce, moody ways. + +And yet this Rousseau, with his celebrations of nature, even of savage +life in nature, did once more touch upon reality and struggle towards +reality. Strangely through all that defacement, degradation, and almost +madness, there is in the inmost heart of poor Rousseau a spark of +real heavenly fire. Out of all that withered, mocking philosophism, +scepticism, and persiflage of his day there has arisen in this man the +ineradicable feeling and knowledge that this life of ours is true, not +a theorem, but a fact. + +The French Revolution found its evangelist in Rousseau. His +semi-delirious speculations on the miseries of civilised life, and such +like, helped to produce a delirium in France generally. It is difficult +to say what the governors of the world could do with such a man. What +he could do with them is clear enough--guillotine a great many of them. + +The tragedy of Burns's life is known to all. The largest soul of all +the British lands appeared under every disadvantage; uninstructed, +poor, born only to hard manual toil; and writing, when it came to that, +in a rustic special dialect, known only to a small province of the +country he lived in. + +We find in Burns a noble, rough genuineness, the true simplicity of +strength, and a deep and earnest element of sunshine and joyfulness; +yet the chief quality, both of his poetry and of his life, is +sincerity--a wild wrestling with the truth of things. + + +_VI.--The Hero as King_ + +The commander over men, to whose will our wills are to be subordinated +and loyally surrender themselves, and find their welfare in doing +so, may be reckoned the most important of great men. He is called +_Rex_, "Regulator"; our own name is still better--king, which means +"can-ning," "able-man." + +In rebellious ages, when kingship itself seems dead and abolished, +Cromwell and Napoleon step forth again as kings. The old ages are +brought back to us; the manner in which kings were made, and kingship +itself first took rise, is again exhibited in the history of these two. + +The war of the Puritans was a section of that universal war which alone +makes up the true history of the world--the war of Belief against +Unbelief; the struggle of men intent on the real essence of things, +against men intent on the semblances and forms of things. And among +these Puritans Cromwell stood supreme, grappling like a giant, face +to face, heart to heart, with the naked truth of things. Yet Cromwell +alone finds no hearty apologist anywhere. Selfish ambition, dishonesty, +duplicity; a fierce, coarse, hypocritical Tartuffe; turning all that +noble struggle for constitutional liberty into a sorry farce played for +his own benefit. This, and worse, is the character they give him. + +From of old, this theory of Cromwell's falsity has been incredible to +me. All that we know of him betokens an earnest, hearty sincerity. +Everywhere we have to note his decisive, practical eye, how he drives +towards the practicable, and has a genuine insight into what is fact. +Such an intellect does not belong to a false man; the false man sees +false shows, plausibilities, expediences; the true man is needed to +discern even practical truth. + +Napoleon by no means seems to me so great a man as Cromwell. His +enormous victories which reached over all Europe, while Cromwell abode +mainly in our little England, are but as the high stilts on which the +man is seen standing; the stature of the man is not altered thereby. I +find in him no such sincerity as in Cromwell; only a far inferior sort. + +"False as a bulletin," became a proverb in Napoleon's time. Yet he had +a sincerity, a certain instinctive, ineradicable feeling for reality; +and did base himself upon fact, so long as he had any basis. He had an +instinct of Nature better than his culture was. His companions, we are +told, were one evening busily occupied arguing that there could be no +God; they had proved it by all manner of logic. Napoleon, looking up +into the stars, answers, "Very ingenious, Messieurs; but who made all +that?" The atheistic logic runs off from him like water; the great fact +stares him in the face. So, too, in practice; he, as every man that can +be great, sees, through all entanglements, the practical heart of the +matter, and drives straight towards that. + +Accordingly, there was a faith in him, genuine so far as it went. That +this new, enormous democracy is an insuppressible fact, which the +whole world cannot put down--this was a true insight of his, and took +his conscience and enthusiasm along with it. And did he not interpret +the dim purport of it well? _La carriere ouverte aux talents_--"the +implements to him who can handle them"--this actually is the truth, and +even the whole truth; it includes whatever the French Revolution or any +revolution could mean. It is a great, true message from our last great +man. + + + + +Sartor Resartus + + "Sartor Resartus," first published in "Frazer's Magazine" in + 1833-34, is Thomas Carlyle's most popular work, and is largely + autobiographical. + + +I.--_The Philosophy of Clothes_ + +Considering our present advanced state of culture, and how the torch +of science has now been brandished and borne about, with more or +less effect, for five thousand years and upwards, it is surprising +that hitherto little or nothing of a fundamental character, whether +in the way of philosophy or history, has been written on the subject +of clothes. Every other tissue has been dissected, but the vestural +tissue of woollen or other cloth, which man's soul wears as its outmost +wrappage, has been quite overlooked. All speculation has tacitly +figured man as a clothed animal, whereas he is by nature a naked +animal, and only in certain circumstances, by purpose and device, masks +himself in clothes. + +But here, as in so many other cases, learned, indefatigable, +deep-thinking Germany comes to our aid. The editor of these sheets +has lately received a new book from Professor Teufelsdroeckh, of +Weissnichtwo, treating expressly of "Clothes, their Origin and +Influence" (1831). This extensive volume, a very sea of thought, +discloses to us not only a new branch of philosophy, but also +the strange personal character of Professor Teufelsdroeckh, which +is scarcely less interesting. We were just considering how the +extraordinary doctrines of this book might best be imparted to our +own English nation, when we received a letter from Herr Hofrath +Heuschrecke, our professor's chief associate, offering us the requisite +documents for a biography of Teufelsdroeckh. This was the origin of our +"Sartor Resartus," now presented in the vehicle of "Frazer's Magazine." + +Professor Teufelsdroeckh, when we knew him at Weissnichtwo, lived a +still and self-contained life, devoted to the higher philosophies and +to a certain speculative radicalism. The last words that he spoke in +our hearing were to propose a toast in the coffee-house--"The cause of +the poor, in heaven's name and the devil's." But we looked for nothing +moral from him, still less anything didactico-religious. + +Brave Teufelsdroeckh, who could tell what lurked in thee? In thine eyes, +deep under thy shaggy brows, and looking out so still and dreamy, +have we not noticed gleams of an ethereal or else a diabolic fire? +Our friend's title was that of Professor of Things in General, but he +never delivered any course. We used to sit with him in his attic, +overlooking the town; he would contemplate that wasp-nest or bee-hive +spread out below him, and utter the strangest thoughts. "That living +flood, pouring through these streets, is coming from eternity, going +onward to eternity. These are apparitions. What else?" Thus he lived +and meditated with Heuschrecke as Boswell for his Johnson. + +"As Montesquieu wrote a 'Spirit of Laws,'" observes our professor, "so +could I write a 'Spirit of Clothes,' for neither in tailoring nor in +legislating does man proceed by mere accident, but the hand is ever +guided by the mysterious operations of the mind." And so he deals with +Paradise and fig-leaves, and proceeds to view the costumes of all +mankind, in all countries, in all times. + +The first purpose of clothes, he imagines, was not warmth or decency, +but ornament. "Yet what have they not become? Increased security +and pleasurable heat soon followed; divine shame or modesty, as yet +a stranger to the anthropophagous bosom, arose there mysteriously +under clothes, a mystic shrine for the holy in man. Clothes gave us +individuality, distinctions, social polity; clothes have made men of +us; they are threatening to make clothes-screens of us." + +Teufelsdroeckh dwells chiefly on the seams, tatters, and unsightly +wrong-side of clothes, but he has also a superlative transcendentalism. +To him, man is a soul, a spirit, and divine apparition, whose flesh +and senses are but a garment. He deals much in the feeling of wonder, +insisting that wonder is the only reasonable temper for the denizen +of our planet. "Wonder," he says, "is the basis of worship," and +that progress of science, which is to destroy wonder and substitute +mensuration and numeration, finds small favour with him. "Clothes, +despicable as we think them, are unspeakably significant." + + +_II.--Biography of Teufelsdroeckh_ + +So far as we can gather from the disordered papers which have been +placed in our hands, the genesis of Diogenes Teufelsdroeckh is obscure. +We see nothing but an exodus out of invisibility into visibility. +In the village of Entepfuhl we find a childless couple, verging on +old age. Andreas Futteral, who has been a grenadier sergeant under +Frederick the Great, is now cultivating a little orchard. To him and +Gretchen his wife there entered one evening a stranger of reverend +aspect, who deposited a silk-covered basket, saying, "Good people, here +is an invaluable loan; take all heed thereof; with high recompense, or +else with heavy penalty, will it one day be required back." Therein +they found, as soon as he had departed, a little infant in the softest +sleep. Our philosopher tells us that this story, told him in his +twelfth year, produced a quite indelible impression. Who was his +unknown father, whom he was never able to meet? + +We receive glimpses of his childhood, schooldays, and university life, +and then meet with him in that difficulty, common to young men, of +"getting under way." "Not what I have," he says, "but what I do, is my +kingdom; and we should grope throughout our lives from one expectation +and disappointment to another were we not saved by one thing--our +hunger." He had thrown up his legal profession, and found himself +without landmark of outward guidance; whereby his previous want of +decided belief, or inward guidance, is frightfully aggravated. So he +sets out over an unknown sea; but a certain Calypso Island at the very +outset falsifies his whole reckoning. + +"Nowhere," he says, "does Heaven so immediately reveal itself to the +young man as in the young maiden. The feeling of our young forlorn +towards the queens of this earth was, and indeed is, altogether +unspeakable. A visible divinity dwelt in them; to our young friend all +women were holy, were heavenly. And if, on a soul so circumstanced, +some actual air-maiden should cast kind eyes, saying thereby, 'Thou +too mayest love and be loved,' and so kindle him--good Heaven, what an +all-consuming fire were probably kindled!" + +Such a fire of romance did actually burst forth in Herr Diogenes. +We know not who "Blumine" was, nor how they met. She was young, +hazel-eyed, beautiful, high-born, and of high spirit, but unhappily +dependent and insolvent, living perhaps on the bounty of moneyed +relatives. "To our friend the hours seemed moments; holy was he and +happy; the words from those sweetest lips came over him like dew on +thirsty grass. At parting, the Blumine's hand was in his; in the balmy +twilight, with the kind stars above them, he spoke something of meeting +again, which was not contradicted; he pressed gently those soft, +small fingers, and it seemed as if they were not hastily, not angrily +withdrawn." + +Poor Teufelsdroeckh, it is clear to demonstration thou art smit! +Flame-clad, thou art scaling the upper Heaven, and verging towards +insanity, for prize of a high-souled brunette, as if the earth held but +one and not several of these! "One morning, he found his morning-star +all dimmed and dusky-red; doomsday had dawned; they were to meet no +more!" Their lips were joined for the first time and the last, and +Teufelsdroeckh was made immortal by a kiss. And then--"thick curtains +of night rushed over his soul, and he fell, through the ruins as of a +shivered universe, towards the abyss." + +He quietly lifts his pilgrim-staff, and begins a perambulation and +circumambulation of the terraqueous globe. We find him in Paris, in +Vienna, in Tartary, in the Sahara, flying with hunger always parallel +to him, and a whole infernal chase in his rear. He traverses mountains +and valleys with aimless speed, writing with footprints his sorrows, +that his spirit may free herself, and he become a man. Vain truly +is the hope of your swiftest runner to escape from his own shadow! +We behold him, through these dim years, in a state of crisis, of +transition; his aimless pilgrimings are but a mad fermentation, +wherefrom, the fiercer it is, the clearer product will one day evolve +itself. + +Man has no other possession but hope; this world of his is emphatically +the "Place of Hope"; yet our professor, for the present, is quite shut +out from hope. As he wanders wearisomely through this world he has +now lost all tidings of another and higher. "Doubt," says he, "had +darkened into unbelief." It is all a grim desert, this once fair world +of his; and no pillar of cloud by day, and no pillar of fire by night, +any longer guides the pilgrim. "Invisible yet impenetrable walls, as +of enchantment, divided me from all living; was there, in the wide +world, any true bosom I could press trustfully to mine? O Heaven, no, +there was none! To me the universe was all void of life, of purpose, +of volition, even of hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable +steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb +from limb. O, the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and mill of death! + +"Full of such humour, and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole +French capital or suburbs, was I, one sultry dog-day, after much +perambulation, toiling along the dirty little Rue Saint Thomas de +l'Enfer, among civic rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over +pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar's furnace; whereby doubtless my spirits +were a little cheered; when, all at once, there rose a thought in +me, and I asked myself, 'What _art_ thou afraid of? Wherefore, like +a coward, dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering and +trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that +lies before thee? Death? Well, death; and say the pangs of Tophet too, +and all that the devil and man may, will, or can do against thee! Hast +thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatever it be; and, as a +child of freedom, though outcast, trample Tophet itself under thy feet, +while it consumes thee? Let it come, then; I will meet it and defy it!' +And, as I so thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole +soul; and I shook base fear away from me for ever. Ever from that time, +the temper of my misery was changed; not fear or whining sorrow was it, +but indignation and grim fire-eyed defiance. + +"Thus had the _Everlasting No_ pealed authoritatively through all the +recesses of my being, of my _Me_; and then was it that my whole _Me_ +stood up, in native God-created majesty, and with emphasis recorded its +protest. The Everlasting No had said, 'Behold, thou art fatherless, +outcast, and the universe is mine, the devil's'; to which my whole _Me_ +now made answer, 'I am not thine, but free, and for ever hate thee!' + +"It is from this hour that I incline to date my spiritual new-birth, +or Baphometic Fire-baptism; perhaps I directly thereupon began to be a +man." + +Our wanderer's unrest was for a time but increased. "Indignation and +defiance are not the most peaceable inmates," yet it was no longer +a quite hopeless unrest. He looked away from his own sorrows, over +the many-coloured world, and few periods of his life were richer in +spiritual culture than this. He had reached the Centre of Indifference +wherein he had accepted his own nothingness. "I renounced utterly, I +would hope no more and fear no more. To die or to live was to me alike +insignificant. Here, then, as I lay in that Centre of Indifference, +cast by benignant upper influence into a healing sleep, the heavy +dreams rolled gradually away, and I awoke to a new heaven and a new +earth. I saw that man can do without happiness and instead thereof find +blessedness. Love not pleasure; love God. This is the _Everlasting +Yea_, wherein all contradiction is solved; wherein whoso walks and +works, it is well with him. In this poor, miserable, hampered, +despicable Actual, wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere is +thy Ideal; work it out therefrom; and working, believe, live, be free! +Produce! produce! Work while it is called to-day." + + +_III.--The Volume on Clothes_ + +In so capricious a work as this of the professor's, our course +cannot be straightforward, but only leap by leap, noting significant +indications here and there. Thus, "perhaps the most remarkable incident +in modern history," he says, "is George Fox's making to himself a suit +of leather, when, desiring meditation and devout prayer to God, he +took to the woods, chose the hollow of a tree for his lodging and wild +berries for his food, and for clothes stitched himself one perennial +suit of leather. Then was there in broad Europe one free man, and Fox +was he!" + +Under the title "Church-Clothes," by which Teufelsdroeckh signifies the +forms, the vestures, under which men have at various periods embodied +and represented for themselves the religious principle, he says, "These +are unspeakably the most important of all the vestures and garnitures +of human existence. Church-clothes are first spun and woven by society; +outward religion originates by society; society becomes possible by +religion." + +Of "symbols," as means of concealment and yet of revelation, thus +uniting in themselves the efficacies at once of speech and of silence, +our professor writes, "In the symbol proper there is ever, more or +less distinctly and directly, some embodiment and revelation of the +Infinite; the Infinite is made to blend itself with the finite; to +stand visible, and, as it were, attainable there. Of this sort are all +true works of art; in them, if thou know a work of art from a daub of +artifice, wilt thou discern eternity looking through time; the God-like +rendered visible. But nobler than all in this kind are the lives of +heroic God-inspired men, for what other work of art is so divine?" And +again, "Of this be certain, wouldst thou plant for eternity, then plant +into the deep infinite faculties of man, his fantasy and heart; wouldst +thou plant for year and day, then plant into his shallow superficial +faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding." + +As for Helotage, or that lot of the poor wherein no ray of heavenly nor +even of earthly knowledge visits him, Teufelsdroeckh says, "That there +should one man die ignorant who had capacity for knowledge, this I call +a tragedy, were it to happen more than twenty times in the minute." + +In another place, our professor meditates upon the awful procession of +mankind. "Like a God-created, fire-breathing spirit-host, we emerge +from the inane; haste stormfully across the astonished earth; then +plunge again into the inane. But whence?--O Heaven, whither? Sense +knows not; Faith knows not; only that it is through mystery to mystery, +from God and to God. + + "We are such stuff + As dreams are made of, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep!" + + + + +MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO + +Concerning Friendship + + The dialogue "Concerning Friendship" was composed immediately + after the assassination of Julius Caesar, and was suggested by the + conduct of certain friends of the mighty dead, who were trying, + in the name of friendship, to inflame the populace against the + cause of the conspirators. (Cicero biography, see Vol. IX, p. + 155, and also p. 274 of the present volume.) + + +_A Dialogue_ + +FANNIUS: I agree with you, Laelius; never was man better known for +justice or for glory than Scipio Africanus. That is why everyone in +Rome is looking to you; everyone is asking me, and Scaevola here, how +the wise Laelius is bearing the loss of his dead friend. For they call +you wise, you know, in the same sense as the oracle called Socrates +wise, because you believe that your happiness depends on yourself +alone, and that virtue can fortify the soul against every calamity. May +we know, then, how you bear your sorrow? + +SCAEVOLA: He says truly; many have asked me the same question. I tell +them that you are composed and patient, though deeply touched by the +death of your dearest friend, and one of the greatest of men. + +LAELIUS: You have answered well. True it is that I sorrow for a friend +whose like I shall never see again; but it is also true that I need +no consolations, since I believe that no evil has befallen Scipio. +Whatever misfortune there is, is my misfortune, and any immoderate +distress would show self-love, not love for him. What a man he was! +Well, he is in heaven; and I sometimes hope that the friendship of +Scipio and Laelius may live in human memory. + +FANNIUS: Yes--your friendship: what do you believe about friendship? + +SCAEVOLA: That's what we want to know. + +LAELIUS: Who am I, to speak on such a subject all on a sudden? You +should go to these Greek professionals, who can spin you a discourse +on anything at a moment's notice. For my part, I can only advise +this--prize friendship above all earthly things. We seem to be made +for friendship; it is our great stand-by whether in weal or woe. Yet +I can say this too: friendship cannot be except among the good. I +don't mean a fantastical and unattainable pitch of goodness such as +the philosophers prate about; I mean the genuine, commonplace goodness +of flesh and blood, that actually exists. I mean such men as live in +honour, justice, and liberality, and are consistent, and are neither +covetous nor licentious, nor brazen-faced; such men are good enough for +us, because they follow Nature as far as they can. + +Friendship consists of a perfect conformity of opinion upon all +subjects, divine and human, together with a feeling of kindness and +attachment. And though some prefer riches, health, power, honours, +or even pleasure, no greater boon than friendship, with the single +exception of wisdom, has been given by the gods to man. It is quite +true that our highest good depends on virtue; but virtue inevitably +begets and nourishes friendship. What a part, for instance, friendship +has played in the lives of the good men we have known--the Catos, the +Galli, the Scipios, and the like! + +How manifold, again, are its benefits! What greater delight is there +than to have one with whom you may talk as if with yourself? One who +will joy in your good fortune, and bear the heaviest end of your +burdens! Other things are good for particular purposes, friendship +for all; neither water nor fire has so many uses. But in one respect +friendship transcends everything else: it throws a brilliant gleam of +hope over the future, and banishes despondency. Whoever has a true +friend sees in him a reflection of himself; and each is strong in the +strength and rich in the wealth of the other. + +If you consider that the principle of harmony and benevolence is +necessary to the very existence of families and states, you will +understand how high a thing is friendship, in which that harmony and +benevolence reach their perfect flower. There was a philosopher of +Agrigentum who explained the properties of matter and the movements of +bodies in terms of affection and repulsion; and however that may be, +everyone knows that these are the real forces in human life. Who does +not applaud the friendship that shares in mortal dangers, whether in +real life or in the play? + +SCAEVOLA: You speak highly of friendship. What are its principles and +duties? + +LAELIUS: Do we desire a friend because of our own weakness and +deficiency, in order that we may obtain from him what we lack +ourselves, repaying him by reciprocal service? Or is all that only an +incident of friendship, and does the bond derive from a remoter and +more beautiful origin, in the heart of Nature herself? For my part, +I take the latter view. Friendship is a natural emotion, and not an +arrangement of convenience. Its character may be recognised even in +the lower animals, and much more plainly in the love of human parents +for their children, and, most of all, in our affection for a congenial +friend, whom we see in an atmosphere of virtue and worth. + +The other is not an ignoble theory, but it leaves us in the difficulty +that if it were true, the weakest, meanest, and poorest of humanity +would be the most inclined to friendship. But it is the strong, rich, +independent, and self-reliant man, deeply founded in wisdom and +dignity, who makes great friendships. What did Africanus need of me, or +I of him? Advantages followed, but they did not lead. But there are +people who will always be referring everything to the one principle of +self-advantage; they have no eyes for anything great and god-like. Let +us leave such theorists alone; the plain fact is, that whenever worth +is seen, love for it is enkindled. Associations founded upon interest +presently dissolve, because interest changes; but Nature never changes, +and therefore true friendships are imperishable. + +Scipio used to say that it was exceedingly difficult to carry on a +friendship to the end of life, because the paths of interest so often +diverge. There may be competition for office, or a dishonorable request +may be refused, or some other accident may be fatal to the bond. This +refusal to join in a nefarious course of action is often the end of a +friendship, and it is worth inquiring how far the claims of affection +ought to extend. Tiberius Gracchus, when he troubled the state, was +deserted by almost all his friends; one of them who had assisted him +told me that he had such high regard for Gracchus that he could refuse +him nothing. "But what," said I, "if he had asked you to set fire to +the capitol?" "I would have done it!" + +What an infamous confession! No degree of friendship can justify +a crime; and since virtue is the foundation of friendship, crime +must inevitably undermine it. Let this, then, be the rule of +friendship--never to make disgraceful requests, and never to grant them +when they are made. + +Among the perverse, over-subtle ideas of certain Greek philosophers is +the maxim that we should be very cool in the matter of friendship. They +say that we have enough to do with our own affairs, without taking on +other people's affairs too; and that our minds cannot be serenely at +leisure if we are liable to be tortured by the sorrows of a friend. +They advise, also, that friendships should be sought for the sake of +protection, and not for the sake of kindliness. O noble philosophy! +They put out the sun in the heavens, and offer us instead a freedom +from care that is worse than worthless. Virtue has not a heart of +stone, but is gentle and compassionate, rejoicing with the joyful and +weeping with those who mourn. True virtue is never unsocial, never +haughty. + +With regard to the limits of friendship, I have heard three several +maxims, but disapprove them all. First, that we ought to feel towards +our friend exactly as we feel towards ourselves. That would never +do; for we do many things for our friends that we should never think +of doing for ourselves. We ask favours and reprehend injuries for a +friend, where we would not solicit for, or defend, ourselves. Secondly, +that our kindness to a friend should be meted out in precise equipoise +to his kindness to us. This is too miserable a theory: friendship +is opulent and generous. The third is, that we should take our +friend's own estimate of himself, and act upon it. This is the worst +principle of the three; for if our friend is over-humble, diffident or +despondent, it is the very business of friendship to cheer him and urge +him on. But Scipio used to condemn yet another principle that is worse +still. Some one--he thought it must have been a bad man--once said that +we ought to remember in friendship that some day the friend might be an +enemy. How, in that state of mind, could one be a friend at all? + +A sound principle, I think, is this. In the friendship of upright men +there ought to be an unrestricted communication of every interest, +every purpose, every inclination. Then, in any matter of importance +to the life or reputation of your friend, you may deviate a little +from the strictest line of conduct so long as you do not do anything +that is actually infamous. Then, with regard to the choice of friends, +Scipio used to say that men were more careful about their sheep and +goats than about their friends. Choose men of constancy, solidity, and +firmness; and until their trustworthiness has been tested, be moderate +in your affection and confidence. Seek first of all for sincerity. Your +friend should also have an open, genial, and sociable temper, and his +sympathies should be the same as yours. He must not be ready to believe +accusations. Lastly, his talk and manner should be debonair; we don't +want austerities and solemnities in friendship. + +I have heard it suggested that we ought perhaps to prefer new friends +to old, as we prefer a young horse to an old one. Satiety should have +no place in friendship. Old wines are the best, and so are the friends +of many years. Do not despise the acquaintance that promises to ripen +into something better; but do not sacrifice for it the deeply rooted +intimacy. Even inanimate things take hold of our hearts by long custom; +we love the mountains and forests of our youth. + +There is often a great disparity in respect of rank or talent between +intimate friends. Whenever that is so, let the superior place himself +on the level of the inferior; let him share all his advantages with his +friend. The best way to reap the full harvest of genius, or of merit, +or of any other excellence, is to encourage all one's kindred and +associates to enjoy it too. But if the superior ought to condescend to +the inferior, so the inferior ought to be free from envy. And let him +not make a fuss about such services as he has been able to render. + +To pass from the noble friendships of the wise to more commonplace +intimacies, we cannot leave out of account the necessity that sometimes +arises of breaking off a friendship. A man falls into scandalous +courses, his disgrace is reflected on his companions, and their +relation must come to an end. Well, the end had best come gradually and +gently, unless the offence is so detestable that an abrupt and final +cutting of the acquaintance is absolutely inevitable. Disengage, if +possible, rather than cut. And let the matter end with estrangement; +let it not proceed to active animosity and hostility. It is very +unbecoming to engage in public war with a man who has been known as +one's friend. On two separate occasions Scipio thought it right to +withdraw his confidence from certain friends. In each case he kept his +dignity and self-command; he was grieved, but never bitter. Of course, +the best way to guard against such unfortunate occurrences is to take +the greatest care in forming friendships. All excellence is rare, and +that moral excellence which makes fit objects for friendship is as rare +as any. + +On the other hand, it would be unreasonable and presumptuous in anyone +to expect to find a friend of a quality to which he himself can never +hope to attain, or to demand from his friend an indulgence which he +is not prepared himself to offer. Friendship was given us to be an +incentive to virtue, and not as an indulgence to vice or to mediocrity; +in order that, since a solitary virtue cannot scale the peaks, it may +do so with the loyal help of a comrade. A comradeship of this kind +includes within it all that men most desire. + +Think nobly of friendship, and conduct yourselves wisely in it, for in +one way or another it enters into the life of every man. Even Timon of +Athens, whose one impulse was a brutal misanthropy, must needs seek a +confidant into whose mind he may instil his detestable venom. I have +heard, and I agree with it, that though a man should contemplate from +the heavens the universal beauty of creation, he would soon weary of it +without a companion for his admiration. + +Of course, there are rubs in friendship which a sensible man will learn +to avoid, or to ignore, or to bear them cheerfully. Admonitions and +reproofs must have their part in true amity, and it is as difficult +to utter them tactfully as it is to receive them in good part. +Complaisance seems more propitious to friendship than are these naked +truths. But though truth may be painful, complaisance is more likely +in the long run to prove disastrous. It is no kindness to allow a +friend to rush headlong to ruin. Let your remonstrances be free from +bitterness and from insult; let your complaisance be affable, but never +servile. As for adulation, there are no words bad enough for it. Even +the populace have only contempt for the politician who flatters them. +Despise the insinuations of the sycophant, for what is more shameful +than to be made a fool of? + +I tell you, sirs, that it is virtue that lasts; that begets real +friendships and maintains them. Lay, therefore, while you are young, +the foundations of a virtuous life. + + + + +WILLIAM COBBETT + +Advice to Young Men + + William Cobbett, the celebrated English political writer, was + born in March, 1762, at Farnham in Surrey. He took a dislike to + rural occupations, and at an early age went to London, where + he was employed for a few months as a copying clerk. This work + was distasteful to him, and he enlisted in the army, and went + with his regiment to Nova Scotia. On returning to England in + 1791, he obtained his discharge, married, and went to America. + In Philadelphia he commenced his career as a political writer. + Cobbett's "Advice to Young Men" was published in 1830. It has + always been the most popular of his books, partly because of + its subject, and partly because it illustrates so well the bold + and forceful directness of his style. An intensely egotistical + and confident man, Cobbett believed that his own strangely + inconsistent life was a model for all men. Yet, contrary to what + might have been expected, he was a delightful man in the domestic + circle, and the story of his marriage--which has been narrated + in his "Rural Rides"--is one of the romances of literary life. + The original introduction to the "Advice" contained personal + reference incredible in anyone except Cobbett. Said he, "Few will + be disposed to question my fitness for the task. If such a man be + not qualified to give advice, no man is qualified." And he went + on to claim for himself "genius and something more." He certainly + had a remarkable fund of commonsense, except when his subject was + himself. Cobbett died June 18, 1835. + + +_I.--To a Youth_ + +You are arrived, let us suppose, at the age of from fourteen to nearly +twenty, and I here offer you my advice towards making you a happy man, +useful to all about you, and an honour to those from whom you sprang. +Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly fixed in your mind that +you have no right to live in this world without doing work of some sort +or other. To wish to live on the labour of others is to contemplate a +fraud. + +Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is to be found only in +independence. Turn your back on what is called interest. Write it on +your heart that you will depend solely on your own merit and your own +exertions, for that which a man owes to favour or to partiality, that +same favour or partiality is constantly liable to take from him. + +The great source of independence the French express in three words, +"_Vivre de peu_." "To live upon little" is the great security against +slavery; and this precept extends to dress and other things besides +food and drink. Extravagance in dress arises from the notion that all +the people in the street will be looking at you as you walk out; but +all the sensible people that happen to see you will think nothing at +all about you. Natural beauty of person always will and must have some +weight, even with men, and great weight with women; but this does not +want to be set off by expensive clothes. + +A love of what is called "good eating and drinking," if very unamiable +in a grown-up person, is perfectly hateful in a youth. I have never +known such a man worthy of respect. + +Next, as to amusements. Dancing is at once rational and healthful; +it is the natural amusement of young people, and none but the most +grovelling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and despicable +fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. As to gaming, it is +always criminal, either in itself or in its tendency. The basis of it +is covetousness; a desire to take from others something for which you +have given, and intend to give, no equivalent. + +Be careful in choosing your companions; and lay down as a rule never to +be departed from that no youth or man ought to be called your friend +who is addicted to indecent talk. + +In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt, but even these are +preferable to simpering and crawling. Be obedient where obedience is +due; for it is no act of meanness to yield implicit and ready obedience +to those who have a right to demand it at your hands. None are so saucy +and disobedient as slaves; and, when you come to read history, you +will find that in proportion as nations have been free has been their +reverence for the laws. + +Let me now turn to the things which you ought to do. And, first of +all, the husbanding of your time. Young people require more sleep than +those that are grown up, and the number of hours cannot well be, on an +average, less than eight. An hour in bed is better than an hours spent +over the fire in an idle gossip. + +Money is said to be power; but superior sobriety, industry, and +activity are still a more certain source of power. Booklearning is not +only proper, but highly commendable; and portions of it are absolutely +necessary in every case of trade or profession. One of these portions +is distinct reading, plain and neat writing, and arithmetic. The +next thing is the grammar of your own language, for grammar is the +foundation of all literature. Excellence in your own calling is the +first thing to be aimed at. After this may come general knowledge. +Geography naturally follows grammar; and you should begin with that of +this kingdom. When you come to history, begin also with that of your +own country; and here it is my bounded duty to put you well on your +guard. The works of our historians are, as far as they relate to former +times, masses of lies unmatched by any others that the world has ever +seen. + + +_II.--To a Young Man_ + +To be poor and independent is very nearly an impossibility; though +poverty is, except where there is an actual want of food and raiment, +a thing much more imaginary than real. Resolve to set this false shame +of being poor at defiance. Nevertheless, men ought to take care of +their names, ought to use them prudently and sparingly, and to keep +their expenses always within the bounds of their income, be it what it +may. + +One of the effectual means of doing this is to purchase with ready +money. Innumerable things are not bought at all with ready money which +would be bought in case of trust; it is so much easier to order a thing +than to pay for it. I believe that, generally speaking, you pay for the +same article a fourth part more in the case of trust than you do in the +case of ready money. The purchasing with ready money really means that +you have more money to purchase with. + +A great evil arising from the desire not to be thought poor is the +destructive thing honoured by the name of "speculation," but which +ought to be called gambling. It is a purchasing of something to be sold +again with a great profit at a considerable hazard. Your life, while +you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester: a life of general +gloom, enlivened now and then by a gleam of hope or of success. + +In all situations of life avoid the trammels of the law. If you win +your suit and are poorer than you were before, what do you accomplish? +Better to put up with the loss of one pound than with two, with all the +loss of time and all the mortification and anxiety attending a law suit. + +Unless your business or your profession be duly attended to there can +be no real pleasure in any other employment of a portion of your time. +Men, however, must have some leisure, some relaxation from business; +and in the choice of this relaxation much of your happiness will depend. + +Where fields and gardens are at hand, they present the most rational +scenes for leisure. Nothing can be more stupid than sitting, +sotting over a pot and a glass, sending out smoke from the head, and +articulating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things. + +Another mode of spending the leisure time is that of books. To come at +the true history of a country you must read its laws; you must read +books treating of its usages and customs in former times; and you must +particularly inform yourselves as to prices of labour and of food. But +there is one thing always to be guarded against, and that is not to +admire and applaud anything you read merely because it is the fashion +to admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what you read, form your +own judgments, and stand by that judgment until fact or argument be +offered to convince you of your error. + + +_III.--To a Lover_ + +There are two descriptions of lovers on whom all advice would be +wasted, namely, those in whose minds passion so wholly overpowers +reason as to deprive the party of his sober senses, and those who love +according to the rules of arithmetic, or measure their matrimonial +expectations by the claim of the land-surveyor. + +I address myself to the reader whom I suppose to be a real lover, but +not so smitten as to be bereft of reason. You should never forget that +marriage is a thing to last for life, and that, generally speaking, it +is to make life happy or miserable. + +The things which you ought to desire in a wife are chastity, sobriety, +industry, frugality, cleanliness, knowledge of domestic affairs, good +temper and beauty. + +Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even thought, is so +essential that without it no female is fit to be a wife. If prudery +mean false modesty, it is to be despised; but if it mean modesty pushed +to the utmost extent, I confess that I like it. The very elements of +jealousy ought to be avoided, and the only safeguard is to begin well +and so render infidelity and jealousy next to impossible. + +By sobriety I mean sobriety of conduct. When girls arrive at that +age which turns their thoughts towards the command of a house it +is time for them to cast away the levity of a child. Sobriety is a +title to trustworthiness, and that is a treasure to prize above all +others. But in order to possess this precious trustworthiness you must +exercise your reason in the choice of a partner. If she be vain, fond +of flattery, given to gadding about, coquettish, she will never be +trustworthy, and you will be unjust if you expect it at her hands. But +if you find in her that innate sobriety of which I have been speaking, +there requires on your part confidence and trust without any limit. + +An ardent-minded young man may fear that sobriety of conduct in a young +woman argues a want of warmth; but my observation and experience tell +me that levity, not sobriety, is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, +the companion of a want of ardent feeling. + +There is no state in life in which industry in the wife is not +necessary to the happiness and prosperity of the family. If she be lazy +there will always be a heavy arrear of things unperformed, and this, +even among the wealthy, is a great curse. But who is to tell whether a +girl will make an industrious woman? There are certain outward signs, +which, if attended to with care, will serve as pretty sure guides. + +If you find the tongue lazy you may be nearly certain that the hands +and feet are the same. The pronunciation of an industrious person is +generally quick, distinct, and firm. Another mark of industry is a +quick step and a tread showing that the foot comes down with a hearty +good will. + +Early rising is another mark of industry. It is, I should imagine, +pretty difficult to keep love alive towards a woman who never sees the +dew, never beholds the rising sun. + +Frugality. This means the contrary of extravagance. It does not mean +stinginess; it means an abstaining from all unnecessary expenditure. +The outward and vulgar signs of extravagance are all the hardware +which women put upon their persons. The girl who has not the sense to +perceive that her person is disfigured, and not beautified by parcels +of brass, tin, and other hardware stuck about her body, is too great a +fool to be trusted with the purse of any man. + +Cleanliness is a capital ingredient. Occasional cleanliness is not the +thing that an English or American husband wants; he wants it always. A +sloven in one thing is a sloven in all things. Make up your mind to a +rope rather than to live with a slip-shod wife. + +Knowledge of domestic affairs is so necessary in every wife that +the lover ought to have it continually in his eye. A wife must not +only know how things ought to be done, but how to do them. I cannot +form an idea of a more unfortunate being than a girl with a mere +boarding-school education and without a future to enable her to keep a +servant when married. Of what use are her accomplishments? + +Good temper is a very difficult thing to ascertain beforehand--smiles +are so cheap. By "good temper" I do not mean easy temper--a serenity +which nothing disturbs is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, querulousness, +cold indifference, pertinacity in having the last word, are bad things +in a young woman, but of all the faults of temper your melancholy +ladies are the worst. Most wives are at times misery-makers, but the +melancholy carry it on as a regular trade. + +The great use of female beauty is that it naturally tends to keep the +husband in good humour with himself, to make him pleased with his +bargain. + +As to constancy in lovers, even when marriage has been promised, and +that, too, in the most solemn manner, it is better for both parties +to break off than to be coupled together with the reluctant assent of +either. + + +_IV.--To a Husband_ + +It is as a husband that your conduct will have the greatest effect on +your happiness. All in a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and +education, is, nine times out of ten, the work of her husband. + +First convince her of the necessity of moderation in expense; make her +clearly see the justice of beginning to act upon the presumption that +there are children coming. The great danger of all is beginning with a +servant. The wife is young, and why is she not to work as well as her +husband? If the wife be not able to do all the work to be done in the +house, she ought not to have been able to marry. + +The next thing to be attended to is your demeanour towards a young +wife. The first frown that she receives from you is a dagger to her +heart. Let nothing put you out of humour with her. + +Every husband who spends his leisure time in company other than that +of his wife and family tells her and them that he takes more delight +in other company than in theirs. Resolve from the very first never to +spend an hour from home unless business or some necessary and rational +purpose demand it. If you are called away your wife ought to be fully +apprised of the probable duration of the absence and of the time of +return. When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding +day, how can a just man think anything a trifle that affects her +happiness? + +Though these considerations may demand from us the kindest possible +treatment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful deportment at +her hands. A husband under command is the most contemptible of God's +creatures. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recommending disregard of +the wife's opinions and wishes? By no means. But the very nature of +things prescribes that there must be a head of every house, and an +undivided authority. The wife ought to be heard, and patiently heard; +she ought to be reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced; but if she +remain opposed to the husband's opinion, his will must be obeyed. + +I now come to that great bane of families--jealousy. One thing every +husband can do in the way of prevention, and that is to give no +ground for it. Few characters are more despicable than that of a +jealous-headed husband, and that, not because he has grounds, but +because he has not grounds. + +If to be happy in the married state requires these precautions, you may +ask: Is it not better to remain single? The cares and troubles of the +married life are many, but are those of the single life few? Without +wives men are poor, helpless mortals. + +As to the expense, I firmly believe that a farmer married at +twenty-five, and having ten children during the first ten years, would +be able to save more money during these years than a bachelor of the +same age would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like space of +time. The bachelor has no one on whom he can in all cases rely. To me, +no being in this world appears so wretched as he. + + +_V.--To a Father_ + +It is yourself that you see in your children. They are the great and +unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of your prime of life, +and the props of your old age. From the very beginning ensure in them, +if possible, an ardent love for their mother. Your first duty towards +them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life from any +breast but hers. That is their own; it is their birthright. + +The man who is to gain a living by his labour must be drawn away from +home; but this will not, if he be made of good stuff, prevent him from +doing his share of the duty due to his children. There ought to be no +toils, no watchings, no breakings of rest, imposed by this duty, of +which he ought not to perform his full share, and that, too, without +grudging. The working man, in whatever line, and whether in town or +country, who spends his day of rest away from his wife and children is +not worthy of the name of father. + +The first thing in the rearing of children who have passed from the +baby state is, as to the body, plenty of good food; and, as to the +mind, constant good example in the parents. There is no other reason +for the people in the American states being generally so much taller +and stronger than the people in England are, but that, from their +birth, they have an abundance of good food; not only of food, but of +rich food. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unimportant matter, +for a tall man is worth more than a short man. Good food, and plenty of +it, is not more necessary to the forming of a stout and able body than +to the forming of an active and enterprising spirit. Children should +eat often, and as much as they like at a time. They will never take, of +plain food, more than it is good for them to take. + +The next thing after good and plentiful and plain food is good air. +Besides sweet air, children want exercise. Even when they are babies in +arms they want tossing and pulling about, and talking and singing to. +They will, when they begin, take, if you let them alone, just as much +exercise as nature bids them, and no more. + +I am of opinion that it is injurious to the mind to press book-learning +upon a child at an early age. I must impress my opinion upon every +father that his children's happiness ought to be his first object; +that book-learning, if it tend to militate against this, ought to be +disregarded. A man may read books for ever and be an ignorant creature +at last, and even the more ignorant for his reading. + +And with regard to young women, everlasting book-reading is absolutely +a vice. When they once get into the habit they neglect all other +matters, and, in some cases, even their very dress. Attending to the +affairs of the house--to the washing, the baking, the brewing, the +cooking of victuals, the management of the poultry and the garden, +these are their proper occupations. + + +_VI.--To the Citizen_ + +Having now given my advice to the youth, the man, the lover, the +husband, and the father, I shall tender it to the citizen. To act well +our part as citizens we ought clearly to understand what our rights +are; for on our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights going +before duties, as value received goes before payments. The great right +of all is the right of taking a part in the making of the laws by which +we are governed. + +It is the duty of every man to defend his country against an enemy, a +duty imposed by the law of nature as well as by that of civil society. +Yet how are you to maintain that this is the duty of every man if you +deny to some men the enjoyment of a share in making the laws? The poor +man has a body and a soul as well as the rich man; like the latter, he +has parents, wife, and children; a bullet or a sword is as deadly to +him as to the rich man; yet, notwithstanding this equality, he is to +risk all, and, if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of +rights! Why are the poor to risk their lives? To uphold the laws and +to protect property--property of which they are said to possess none? +What! compel men to come forth and risk their lives for the protection +of property, and then in the same breath tell them that they are not +allowed to share in the making of the laws, because, and only because, +they have no property! + +Here, young man of sense and of spirit, here is the point on which you +are to take your stand. There are always men enough to plead the cause +of the rich, and to echo the woes of the fallen great; but be it your +part to show compassion for those who labour, and to maintain their +rights. + +If the right to have a share in making the laws were merely a feather, +if it were a fanciful thing, if it were only a speculative theory, if +it were but an abstract principle, it might be considered as of little +importance. But it is none of these; it is a practical matter. Who lets +another man put his hand into his purse when he pleases? It is the +first duty of every man to do all in his power to maintain this right +of self-government where it exists, and to restore it where it has been +lost. Men are in such a case labouring, not for the present day only, +but for ages to come. If life should not allow them time to see their +endeavours crowned, their children will see it. + + + + +DANIEL DEFOE + +A Journal of the Plague Year + + "A Journal of the Plague Year" appeared in 1722. In its second + edition it received the title of "A History of the Plague." This + book was suggested by the public anxiety caused by a fearful + visitation of the plague at Marseilles in the two preceding + years. As an account of the epidemic in London, it has all the + vividness of Defoe's fiction, while it is acknowledged to be + historically accurate. (Defoe biography, see Vol. III, p. 26.) + + +_I.--A Stricken City_ + +It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest +of my neighbours, heard that the plague was returned again in Holland. +We had no such thing as printed newspapers in those days to spread +rumours and reports of things; but such things as these were gathered +from the letters of merchants, and from them were handed about by word +of mouth only. In December, two Frenchmen died of the plague in Long +Acre, or, rather, at the upper end of Drury Lane. The secretaries +of state got knowledge of it, and two physicians and a surgeon were +ordered to go to the house and make inspection. This they did, and, +finding evident tokens of the sickness upon both the bodies, they gave +their opinions publicly, that they died of the plague; whereupon it was +given in to the parish clerk, and he also returned them to the Hall; +and it was printed in the weekly bill of mortality in the usual manner, +thus: + + Plague, 2; Parishes infected, 1. + +The distemper spread slowly, and in the beginning of May, the city +being healthy, we began to hope that as the infection was chiefly among +the people at the other end of the town, it might go no further. We +continued in these hopes for a few days, but it was only for a few, +for the people were no more to be deceived thus; they searched the +houses, and found that the plague was really spread every way, and that +many died of it every day; and accordingly, in the weekly bill for +the next week, the thing began to show itself. There was, indeed, but +fourteen set down of the plague, but this was all knavery and collusion. + +Now the weather set in hot, and from the first week in June the +infection spread in a dreadful manner, and the bills rose high. Yet all +that could conceal their distempers did it to prevent their neighbours +shunning them, and also to prevent authority shutting up their houses. + +I lived without Aldgate, midway between Aldgate church and Whitechapel +Bars, and our neighbourhood continued very easy. But at the other end +of the town their consternation was very great, and the richer sort +of people, especially the nobility and gentry, from the west part of +the city, thronged out of town with their families and servants. In +Whitechapel, where I lived, nothing was to be seen but waggons and +carts, with goods, women, servants, children, etc., all hurrying away. +This was a very terrible and melancholy thing to see, and it filled me +with very serious thoughts of the misery that was coming upon the city. + +I now began to consider seriously how I should dispose of myself, +whether I should resolve to stay in London, or shut up my house and +flee. I had two important things before me: the carrying on of my +business and shop, and the preservation of my life in so dismal a +calamity. My trade was a saddler, and though a single man, I had a +family of servants and a house and warehouses filled with goods, and to +leave them all without any overseer had been to hazard the loss of all +I had in the world. + +I had resolved to go; but, one way or other, I always found that to +appoint to go away was always crossed by some accident or other, so as +to disappoint and put it off again; and I advise every person, in such +a case, to keep his eye upon the particular providences which occur +at that time, and take them as intimations from Heaven of what is his +unquestioned duty to do in such a case. Add to this, that, turning over +the Bible which lay before me, I cried out, "Well, I know not what +to do; Lord, direct me!" and at that juncture, casting my eye down, +I read: "Thou shalt not be afraid for the pestilence that walketh in +darkness.... A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy +right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee." I scarce need tell the +reader that from that moment I resolved that I would stay in the town, +casting myself entirely upon the protection of the Almighty. + +The court removed in the month of June, and went to Oxford, where it +pleased God to preserve them; for which I cannot say they showed any +great token of thankfulness, and hardly anything of reformation, though +they did not want being told that their crying voices might, without +breach of charity, have gone far in bringing that terrible judgment +upon the whole nation. + +A blazing star or comet had appeared for several months before the +plague, and there had been universal melancholy apprehensions of some +dreadful calamity. The people were at this time more addicted to +prophecies, dreams, and old wives' fables, than ever they were before +or since. Some ran about the streets with oral predictions, one crying, +"Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed!" Another poor naked +creature cried, "Oh, the great and dreadful God!" repeating these words +continually, with voice and countenance full of horror, and a swift +pace, and nobody could ever find him to stop. Some saw a flaming sword +in a hand coming out of a cloud; others, hearses and coffins in the +air; others, heaps of dead bodies unburied. But those who were really +serious and religious applied themselves in a truly Christian manner to +the proper work of repentance and humiliation. Many consciences were +awakened, many hard hearts melted into tears. People might be heard in +the streets as we passed along, calling upon God for mercy, and saying, +"I have been a thief," or "a murderer," and the like; and none dared +stop to make the least inquiry into such things, or to comfort the poor +creatures that thus cried out. The face of London was now strangely +altered; it was all in tears; the shrieks of women and children at the +windows and doors, where their dearest relations were dead, were enough +to pierce the stoutest heart. + +About June, the lord mayor and aldermen began more particularly to +concern themselves for the regulation of the city, by the shutting up +of houses. Examiners were appointed in every parish to order the house +to be shut up wherever any person sick of the infection was found. A +night watchman and a day watchman were appointed to each infected house +to prevent any person from coming out or going into the same. Women +searchers were appointed in each parish to examine the bodies of such +as were dead, to see if they had died of the infection, and over these +were appointed physicians and chirurgeons. Other orders were made with +regard to giving notice of sickness, sequestration of the sick, airing +the goods and bedding of the infected, burial of the dead, cleansing +of the streets, forbidding wandering beggars, loose persons, and idle +assemblages, and the like. One of these orders was--"That every house +visited be marked with a red cross of a foot long, in the middle of the +door, with these words, 'LORD HAVE MERCY UPON US,' to be set close over +the same cross." Many got out of their houses by stratagem after they +were shut up, and thus spread the plague; in one place they blowed up +their watchman with gunpowder and burnt the poor fellow dreadfully, and +while he made hideous cries, the whole family got out at the windows; +others got out by bribing the watchman, and I have seen three watchmen +publicly whipped through the streets for suffering people to go out. + + +_II.--How the Dead Were Buried_ + +I went all the first part of the time freely about the streets, and +when they dug the great pit in the churchyard of Aldgate I could not +resist going to see it. A terrible pit it was, forty feet long, about +sixteen wide, and in one part they dug it to near twenty feet deep, +until they could go no deeper for the water. It was filled in just two +weeks, when they had thrown into it 1,114 bodies from our own parish. + +I got admittance into the churchyard by the sexton, who at first +refused me, but at last said: "Name of God, go in; depend upon it, +'twill be a sermon to you, it may be the best that ever you heard. It +is a speaking sight," says he; and with that he opened the door and +said, "Go, if you will." I stood wavering for a good while, but just at +that interval I saw two links come over from the end of the Minories, +and heard the bellman, and then appeared a dead-cart coming over the +streets, so I went in. + +The scene was awful and full of terror. The cart had in it sixteen or +seventeen bodies; some were wrapped in sheets or rugs, some little +other than naked, or so loose that what covering they had fell from +them in the shooting out of the cart, and they fell quite naked among +the rest. But the matter was not much to them, seeing they were all +dead, and were to be huddled together into the common grave of mankind, +as we may call it; for here was no difference made, but poor and rich +went together. The cart was turned round, and the bodies shot into the +pit promiscuously. + +There was following the cart a poor unhappy gentleman who fell down in +a swoon when the bodies were shot into the pit. The buriers ran to him +and took him up, and after he had come to himself, they led him away to +the Pye tavern, over against the end of Houndsditch. His case lay so +heavy on my mind that after I had gone home I must go out again into +the street and go to the Pye tavern, to inquire what became of him. + +It was by this time one in the morning, and yet the poor gentleman was +there. The people of the house were civil and obliging, but there was a +dreadful set of fellows that used their house, and who, in the middle +of all this horror, met there every night, and behaved with revelling +and roaring extravagances, so that the master and mistress of the +house were terrified at them. They sat in a room next the street, and +as often as the dead-cart came along, they would open the windows and +make impudent mocks and jeers at the sad lamentations of the people, +especially if they heard the poor people call upon God to have mercy +upon them. + +They were at this vile work when I came to the house, ridiculing the +unfortunate man, and his sorrow for his wife and children, taunting him +with want of courage to leap into the pit and go to Heaven with them, +and adding profane and blasphemous expressions. + +I gently reproved them, being not unknown to two of them. But I cannot +call to mind the abominable raillery which they returned to me, making +a jest of my calling the plague the Hand of God. They continued this +wretched course three or four days; but they were, every one of them, +carried into the great pit before it was quite filled up. + +In my walks I had daily many dismal scenes before my eyes, as of +persons falling dead in the streets, terrible shrieks and screechings +of women, and the like. Passing through Tokenhouse Yard, in Lothbury, +of a sudden a casement violently opened just over my head, and a woman +gave three frightful screeches, and then cried: "Oh Death! Death! +Death!" in a most inimitable tone, which struck me with horror and a +chillness in my very blood. There was nobody to be seen in the whole +street, neither did any other window open; for people had no curiosity +now, nor could anybody help another. I went on into Bell Alley. + +Just in Bell Alley, at the right hand of the passage, there was a +more terrible cry than that, and I could hear women and children run +screaming about the rooms distracted. A garret window opened, and +somebody from a window on the other side of the alley called and +asked, "What is the matter?" upon which, from the first window it was +answered: "O Lord, my old master has hanged himself!" The other asked +again: "Is he quite dead?" And the first answered, "Ay, ay, quite +dead--quite dead and cold." + +It is scarce credible what dreadful things happened every day, people +in the rage of the distemper, or in the torment of their swellings, +which was indeed intolerable, oftentimes laying violent hands on +themselves, throwing themselves out at their windows, etc.; mothers +murdering their own children in their lunacy; some dying of mere +fright, without any infection; others frightened into despair, idiocy, +or madness. + +There were a great many robberies and wicked practices committed even +in this dreadful time. The power of avarice was so strong in some that +they would run any hazard to steal and to plunder; and in houses where +all the inhabitants had died and been carried out, they would break in +without regard to the danger of infection, and take even the bedclothes. + + +_III.--Universal Desolation_ + +For about a month together, I believe there did not die less than 1,500 +or 1,700 a day, one day with another; and in the beginning of September +good people began to think that God was resolved to make a full end of +the people in this miserable city. Whole families, and, indeed, whole +streets of families were swept away together, and the infection was so +increased that at length they shut up no houses at all. People gave +themselves up to their fears, and thought that nothing was to be hoped +for but an universal desolation. It was even in the height of this +despair that it pleased God to stay His hand, and to slacken the fury +of the contagion. + +When the people despaired of life and abandoned themselves, it had a +very strange effect for three or four weeks; it made them bold and +venturous; they were no more shy of one another, nor restrained within +doors, but went anywhere and everywhere, and ran desperately into +any company. It brought them to crowd into the churches; looking on +themselves as all so many dead corpses, they behaved as if their lives +were of no consequence, compared to the work which they came about +there. + +The conduct of the lord mayor and magistrates was all the time +admirable, so that bread was always to be had in plenty, and cheap +as usual; provisions were never wanting in the markets; the streets +were kept free from all manner of frightful objects--dead bodies, or +anything unpleasant; and for a time fires were kept burning in the +streets to cleanse the air of infection. + +Many remedies were tried; but it is my opinion, and I must leave it as +a prescription, that the best physic against the plague is to run away +from it. I know people encourage themselves by saying, "God is able to +keep us in the midst of danger," and this kept thousands in the town, +whose carcasses went into the great pits by cart-loads. Yet of the +pious ladies who went about distributing alms to the poor, and visiting +infected families, though I will not undertake to say that none of +those charitable people were suffered to fall under the calamity, yet I +may say this, that I never knew any of them to fall under it. + +Such is the precipitant disposition of our people, that no sooner had +they observed that the distemper was not so catching as formerly, and +that if it was catched it was not so mortal, and that abundance of +people who really fell sick recovered again daily, than they made no +more of the plague than of an ordinary fever, nor indeed so much. They +went into the very chambers where others lay sick. This rash conduct +cost a great many their lives, who had been preserved all through the +heat of the infection, and the bills of mortality increased again four +hundred in the first week of November. + +But it pleased God, by the continuing of wintry weather, so to restore +the health of the city that by February following we reckoned the +distemper quite ceased. The time was not far off when the city was to +be purged with fire, for within nine months more I saw it all lying in +ashes. + +I shall conclude the account of this calamitous year with a stanza of +my own: + + A dreadful plague in London was + In the year sixty-five, + Which swept an hundred thousand souls + Away; yet I alive! + + + + +DEMOSTHENES + +The Philippics + + Demosthenes, by universal consensus of opinion the greatest + orator the world has known, was born at Athens 385 B.C. and + died 322 B.C. His birth took place just nineteen years after + the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War. Losing his father when + he was yet a child, his wealth was frittered away by three + faithless guardians, whom he prosecuted when he came of age. + This dispute, and some other struggles, led him into public + life, and by indomitable perseverance he overcame the difficulty + constituted by certain physical disqualifications. Identifying + himself for life entirely with the interests of Athens, he became + the foremost administrator in the state, as well as its most + eloquent orator. His stainless character, his matchless powers + of advocacy, his fervent patriotism, and his fine diplomacy, + render him altogether one of the noblest figures of antiquity. + His fame rests mainly on "The Philippics"; those magnificent + orations delivered during a series of several years against the + aggressions of Philip of Macedon; though the three "Olynthiacs," + and the oration "De Corona," and several other speeches are + monumental of the genius of Demosthenes, more especially the "De + Corona." He continued to resist the Macedonian domination during + the career of Alexander the Great, and was exiled, dying, it is + supposed, by poison administered by himself, at Calauria. (Cf. + also p. 273 of this volume.) This epitome has been prepared from + the original Greek. + + +_I.--"Men of Athens, Arouse Yourselves!"_ + +The subject under discussion on this occasion, men of Athens, is not +new, and there would be no need to speak further on it if other orators +deliberated wisely. First, I advise you not to regard the present +aspect of affairs, miserable though it truly is, as entirely hopeless. +For the primary cause of the failure is your own mismanagement. If any +consider it difficult to overcome Philip because of the power that he +has attained, and because of our disastrous loss of many fortresses, +they should remember how much he has gained by achieving alliances. + +If, now, you will emulate his policy, if every citizen will devote +himself assiduously to the service of his country, you will assuredly +recover all that has been lost, and punish Philip. For he has his +enemies, even among his pretended friends. All dread him because your +inertia has prevented you from providing any refuge for them. Hence the +height of arrogance which he now displays and the constantly expanding +area of his conquests. + +When, men of Athens, will you realise that your attitude is the cause +of this situation? For you idle about, indulging in gossip over +circumstances, instead of grappling with the actualities. Were this +antagonist to pass away, another enemy like him would speedily be +produced by your policy, for Philip is what he is not so much through +his own prowess as through your own indifference. + +As to the plan of action to be initiated, I say that we must inaugurate +it by providing fifty triremes, also the cavalry and transports and +boats needed for the fleet. Thus we should be fully prepared to cope +with the sudden excursions of Philip to Thermopylae or any other point. +Besides this naval force, you should equip an army of 2,000 foot +soldiers, of whom 500 should be Athenians, the remainder mercenaries, +together with 250 cavalry, including 50 Athenians. Lastly, we should +have an auxiliary naval contingent of ten swift galleys. + +We are now conducting affairs farcically. For we act neither as if +we were at peace, nor as if we had entered on a war. You enlist your +soldiers not for warfare, but for religious pageants, and for parades +and processions in the market-place. We must consolidate our resources, +embody permanent forces, not temporary levies hastily enlisted, and +we must secure winter quarters for our troops in those islands which +possess harbours and granaries for the corn. + +No longer, men of Athens, must you continue the mere discussion of +measures without ever executing any of your projects. Remember that +Philip sustains his power by drawing on the resources of your own +allies. + +But by adopting my plan you will at one and the same time deprive him +of his chief sources of supply, and place yourselves out of the reach +of danger. The policy he has hitherto pursued will be effectually +thwarted. No longer will he be able to capture your citizens, as he did +by attacking Lemnos and Imbros, or to seize your Paralus, as he did on +his descent at Marathon. + +But, men of Athens, you spend far larger sums of money on the splendid +Panathenaic and Dionysian festivals than on your naval and military +armaments. Moreover, those festivals are always punctually celebrated, +while your preparations for war are always behindhand. Then, when a +critical juncture arrives, we find our forces are totally inadequate to +the emergency. + +Having larger resources than any other state, you, Athenians, have +never adequately availed yourselves of them. You never anticipate the +movements of Philip, but simply drift after him, sending forces to +Thermopylae if you hear he is there, or to any other quarter where he +may happen to be. Such policy might formerly be excused, but now it +is as disgraceful as it is intolerable. Are we to wait for Philip's +aggressiveness to cease? It never will do so unless we resist it. Shall +we not assume the offensive and descend on his coast with some of our +forces? + +Nothing will result from mere oratory and from mutual recrimination +among ourselves. My own conviction is that Philip is encouraged by our +inertia, and that he is carried away by his own successes, but that he +has no fixed plan of action that can be guessed by foolish chatterers. +Men of Athens, let us for the future abandon such an attitude, and let +us bear in mind that we must depend not on the help of others, but on +ourselves alone. Unless we go to attack Philip where he is, Philip will +come to attack us where we are. + + +_II.--Beware the Guile of Philip_ + +Nothing, men of Athens, is done as a sequel to the speeches which +are delivered and approved concerning the outrageous proceedings of +Philip. You are earnest in discussion; he is earnest in action. If we +are to be complacently content because we employ the better arguments, +well and good; but if we are successfully to resist this formidable +and increasing power, we must be prepared to entertain advice that is +salutary, however unpalatable, rather than counsel which is easy and +pleasant. + +If you give me any credit for clear perception, I beg you to attend +to what I plead. After subduing Thermopylae and the Phocians, Philip +quickly apprehended that you could not be induced by any selfish +considerations to abandon other Greek states to him. The Thebans, +Messenians, and Argives he lured by bribes. But he knew how, in +the past, your predecessors scorned the overtures of his ancestor, +Alexander of Macedon, sent by Mardonius the Persian to induce the +Athenians to betray the rest of the Greeks. It was not so with the +Argives and the Thebans, and thus Philip calculates that their +successors will care nothing for the interests of the Greeks generally. +So he favours them, but not you. + +Everything demonstrates Philip's animosity against Athens. He is +instinctively aware that you are conscious of his plots against +you, and ascribes to you a feeling of hatred against him. Eager to +be beforehand with us, he continues to negotiate with Thebans and +Peloponnesians, assuming that they may be beguiled with ease. + +I call to mind how I addressed the Messenians and the Argives, +reminding them how Philip had dishonourably given certain of their +territories to the Olynthians. Would the Olynthians then have listened +to any disparagements of Philip? Assuredly not. Yet they were soon +shamefully betrayed and cheated by him. It is unsafe for commonwealths +to place confidence in despots. In like manner were the Thessalians +deceived when he had ejected their tyrants and had restored to +them Nicasa and Magnesia, for he instituted the new tyranny of the +Decemvirate. Philip is equally ready with gifts and promises on the one +hand, and with fraud and deceit on the other. + +"By Jupiter," said I to those auditors, "the only infallible defence of +democracies against despots is the absolute refusal of all confidence +in them. Always to mistrust them is the only safeguard. What is it that +you seek to secure? Liberty? Then do you not perceive that the very +titles worn by Philip prove him to be adverse to this? For every king +and tyrant is an enemy to freedom and an opponent to laws." + +But though my speeches and those of other emissaries were received +with vociferous applause, all the same those who thus manifested +profound approbation will never be able to resist the blandishments and +overtures of Philip. It may well be so with those other Greeks. But +you, O Athenians, surely should understand your own interests better. +For otherwise irreparable disaster must ensue. + +In justice, men of Athens, you should summon the men who communicated +to you the promises which induced you to consent to peace. Their +statements misled us; otherwise, neither would I have gone as +ambassador, nor would you have ceased hostilities. Also, you should +call those who, after my return from my second embassy, contradicted my +report. I then protested against the abandonment of Thermopylae and of +the Phocians. + +They ridiculed me as a water-drinker, and they persuaded you that +Philip would cede to you Oropus and Euboea in exchange for Amphipolis, +and also that he would humble the Thebans and at his own charges cut +through the Chersonese. Your anger will be excited in due time when +you realise what you have hitherto disregarded, namely, that these +projects on the part of Philip are devised against Athens. + +Though all know it only too well, let me remind you who it was, +even AEschines himself, who induced you by his persuasion to abandon +Thermopylae and Phocis. By possessing control over these, Philip now +commands also the road to Attica and Peloponnesus. + +Hence the present situation is this, that you must now consider, +not distant affairs, but the means of defending your homes and of +conducting a war in Attica, that war having become inevitable through +those events, grievous though it will be to every citizen when it +begins. May the gods grant that the worst fears be not fully confirmed! + + +_III.--Athens Must Head the War_ + +Various circumstances, men of Athens, have reduced our affairs to the +worst possible state, this lamentable crisis being due mainly to the +specious orators who seek rather to please you than wisely to guide +you. Flattery has generated perilous complacency, and now the position +is one of extreme danger. I am willing either to preserve silence, +or to speak frankly, according to your disposition. Yet all may be +repaired if you awaken to your duty, for Philip has not conquered you; +you have simply made no real effort against him. + +Strange to say, while Philip is actually seizing cities and +appropriating various portions of our territory, some among us affirm +that there is really no war. Thus, caution is needed in speech, for +those who suggest defensive measures may afterwards be indicted for +causing hostilities. Now, let those who maintain that we are at peace +propose a resolution for suitable plans. But if you are invaded by an +armed aggressor, who pretends to be at peace with you, what can you do +but initiate measures of defence? + +Both sides may profess to be at peace, and I do not demur; but it +is madness to style that a condition of peace which allows Philip +to subjugate all other states and then to assail you last of all. +His method of proceeding is to prepare to attack you, while securing +immunity from the danger of being attacked by you. + +If we wait for him to declare war, we wait in vain. For he will treat +us as he did the Olynthians and the Phocians. Professing to be their +ally, he appropriated territories belonging to them. Do you imagine +he would declare war against you before commencing operations of +encroachment? Never, so long as he knows that you are willing to be +deceived. + +By a series of operations he has been infringing the peace: by his +attempt to seize Megara, by his intervention in Euboea, by his excursion +into Thrace. I reckon that the virtual beginnings of hostilities +must be dated from the day that he completed the subjugation of the +Thracians. From your other orators I differ in deeming any discussion +irrelevant respecting the Chersonese or Byzantium. Aid these, indeed; +but let the safety of all Greece alike be the subject of your +deliberations. + +What I would emphasise is that to Philip have been conceded liberties +of encroachment and aggression, by you first of all, such as in former +days were always contested by war. He has attacked and enslaved city +after city of the Greeks. You Athenians were for seventy-three years +the supreme leaders in Hellas, as were the Spartans for twenty-nine +years. Then after the battle of Leuctra the Thebans acquired paramount +influence. But neither you nor these others ever arrogated the right to +act according to your pleasure. + +If you appeared to act superciliously towards any state, all the other +states sided with that one which was aggrieved. Yet all the errors +committed by our predecessors and by those of the Spartans during the +whole of that century were trivial compared with the wrongs perpetrated +by Philip during these thirteen years. Cruel has been his destruction +of Olynthus, of Methone, of Apollonia, and of thirty-two cities on the +borders of Thrace, and also the extermination of the Phocians. And now +he domineers ruthlessly over Thessaly and Euboea. Yet all we Greeks of +various nationalities are in so abjectly miserable a condition that, +instead of arranging embassies and declaring our indignation, we +entrench ourselves in isolation in our several cities. + +It must be reflected that when wrongs were inflicted by other states, +by us or the Spartans, these faults were at any rate committed by +genuine sons of Greece. How much more hateful is the offence when +perpetrated against a household by a slave or an alien than by a son or +other member of the family! But Philip is not only no son of Hellas; he +is not even a reputable barbarian, but only a vile fellow of Macedon, +a country from which formerly even a respectable slave could not be +purchased! + +What is lacking to his unspeakable arrogance? Does he not assemble the +Pythian games, command Thermopylae, garrison the passes, secure prior +access to the oracle at Delphi, and dictate the form of government for +Thessaly? All this the Greeks look upon with toleration; they seem +to regard it as they would some tempest, each hoping it will fall on +someone else. We are all passive and despondent, mutually distrusting +each other instead of the common foe. + +How different the noble spirit of former days! How different that old +passion for liberty which is now superseded by the love of servitude! +Then corruption was so deeply detested that there was no pardon for +the guilt of bribery. Now venality is laughed at and bribery goes +unpunished. In ships, men, equipment, and revenues our resources are +larger than ever before, but corruption neutralises them all. + +But preparations for war are not sufficient. You must not only be ready +to encounter the foes without, but must punish those who among you are +the creatures of Philip, like those who caused the ruin of Olynthus by +betraying the cavalry and by securing the banishment of Apollonides. +Similar treachery brought about the downfall of other cities. The same +fate may befall us. What, then, must be done? + +When we have done all that is needful for our own defence, let us next +send our emissaries to all the other states with the intelligence +that we are ready. If you imagine that others will save Greece while +you avoid the conflict, you cherish a fatal delusion. This enterprise +devolves on you; you inherit it from your ancestors. + + +_IV.--Exterminate the Traitors!_ + +Men of Athens, your chief misfortune is that, though for the passing +moment you heed important news, you speedily scatter and forget what +you have just heard. You have become fully acquainted with the doings +of Philip, and you well know how great is his ambition; and yet, so +profound has been our indifference that we have earned the contempt +of several other states, which now prefer to undertake their defence +separately rather than in alliance with us. + +You must become more deeply convinced than you have been hitherto that +our destruction is the supreme anxiety of Philip. The special object of +his hatred is your democratic constitution. Our mode of procedure is a +mockery, for we are always behind in the execution of our schemes. You +must form a permanent army with a regular organisation, and with funds +sufficient for its maintenance. + +Most of all, money is needed to meet coming requirements. There was a +time when money was forthcoming and everything necessary was performed. +Why do we now decline to do our duty? In a time of peril to the +commonwealth the affluent should freely contribute of their possessions +for the welfare of the country; but each class has its obligations to +the state and should observe them. + +Many and inveterate are the causes of our present difficulties. You, O +Athenians, have surrendered the august position which your predecessors +bequeathed you, and have indolently permitted a stranger to usurp it. +The present crisis involves peril for all the states, but to Athens +most of all; and that not so much on account of Philip's schemes of +conquest, as of your neglect. + +How is it, Athenians, that none affirm concerning Philip that he is +guilty of aggression, even while he is seizing cities, while those +who advise resistance are indicated as inciting to war? The reason is +that those who have been corrupted believe that if you do resist him +you will overcome him, and they can no longer secure the reward of +treachery. + +Remember what you have at stake. Should you fall under the dominion +of Philip, he will show you no pity, for his desire is not merely to +subdue Athens, but to destroy it. The struggle will be to the death; +therefore, those who would sell the country to him you must exterminate +without scruple. This is the only city where such treacherous citizens +can dare to speak in his favour. Only here may a man safely accept a +bribe and openly address the people. + + + + +RALPH WALDO EMERSON + +English Traits + + In 1847 Emerson (see Vol. XIII, p. 339) made his second visit to + England, this time on a lecturing tour. An outcome of the visit + was "English Traits," which was first published in 1856. "I leave + England," he wrote on his return home, "with an increased respect + for the Englishman. His stuff or substance seems to be the best + in the world." "English Traits" deals with a series of definite + subjects which do not admit of much philosophic digression, and + there is, therefore, an absence of the flashes of spiritual and + poetic insight which gave Emerson his charm. + + +_I.--The Anchorage of Britain_ + +I did not go very willingly to England. I am not a good traveller, nor +have I found that long journeys yield a fair share of reasonable hours. +I find a sea-life an acquired taste, like that for tomatoes and olives. +The sea is masculine, the type of active strength. Look what egg-shells +are drifting all over it, each one filled with men in ecstasies of +terror alternating with cockney conceit, as it is rough or smooth. But +to the geologist the sea is the only firmament; it is the land that is +in perpetual flux and change. It has been said that the King of England +would consult his dignity by giving audience to foreign ambassadors in +the cabin of a man-of-war; and I think the white path of an Atlantic +ship is the right avenue to the palace-front of this seafaring people. + +England is a garden. Under an ash-coloured sky, the fields have been +combed and rolled till they appear to have been finished with a pencil +instead of a plough. Rivers, hills, valleys, the sea itself, feel the +hand of a master. The problem of the traveller landing in Liverpool +is, Why England is England? What are the elements of that power which +the English hold over other nations? If there be one test of national +genius universally accepted, it is success; and if there be one +successful country in the universe that country is England. + +The culture of the day, the thoughts and aims of men, are English +thoughts and aims. A nation considerable for a thousand years has in +the last centuries obtained the ascendant, and stamped the knowledge, +activity, and power of mankind with its impress. + +The territory has a singular perfection. Neither hot nor cold, there is +no hour in the whole year when one cannot work. The only drawback to +industrial conveniency is the darkness of the sky. The night and day +are too nearly of a colour. + +England resembles a ship in shape, and, if it were one, its best +admiral could not have anchored it in a more judicious or effective +position. The shop-keeping nation, to use a shop word, has a good +stand. It is anchored at the side of Europe, and right in the heart of +the modern world. + +In variety of surface Britain is a miniature of Europe, as if Nature +had given it an artificial completeness. It is as if Nature had held +counsel with herself and said: "My Romans are gone. To build my new +empire I will choose a rude race, all masculine, with brutish strength. +Sharp and temperate northern breezes shall blow to keep them alive +and alert. The sea shall disjoin the people from others and knit them +by a fierce nationality. Long time will I keep them on their feet, by +poverty, border-wars, seafaring, sea-risks, and stimulus of gain." A +singular coincidence to this geographic centrality is the spiritual +centrality which Emanuel Swedenborg ascribes to the people: "The +English nation are in the centre of all Christians, because they have +an interior intellectual light. This light they derive from the liberty +of speaking and writing, and thereby of thinking." + + +_II.--Racial Characteristics_ + +The British Empire is reckoned to contain a fifth of the population +of the globe; but what makes the British census proper important is +the quality of the units that compose it. They are free, forcible men +in a country where life has reached the greatest value. They have +sound bodies and supreme endurance in war and in labour. They have +assimilating force, since they are imitated by their foreign subjects; +and they are still aggressive and propagandist, enlarging the dominion +of their arts and liberty. + +The English composite character betrays a mixed origin. Everything +English is a fusion of distant and antagonistic elements. The language +is mixed; the currents of thought are counter; contemplation and +practical skill; active intellect and dead conservatism; world-wide +enterprise and devoted use and wont; a country of extremes--nothing in +it can be praised without damning exceptions, and nothing denounced +without salvos of cordial praise. + +The sources from which tradition derives its stock are mainly three: +First, the Celtic--a people of hidden and precarious genius; second, +the Germans, a people about whom, in the old empire, the rumour ran +there was never any that meddled with them that repented it not; and, +third, the Norsemen and the children out of France. Twenty thousand +thieves landed at Hastings. These founders of the House of Lords were +greedy and ferocious dragoons, sons of greedy and ferocious pirates. +Such, however, is the illusion of antiquity and wealth that decent and +dignified men now existing actually boast their descent from these +filthy thieves. + +As soon as this land, thus geographically posted, got a hardy people +into it, they could not help becoming the sailors and factors of the +world. The English, at the present day, have great vigour of body. +They are round, ruddy, and handsome, with a tendency to stout and +powerful frames. It is the fault of their forms that they grow stocky, +but in all ages they are a handsome race, and please by an expression +blending good nature, valour, refinement, and an uncorrupt youth in the +face of manhood. + +The English are rather manly than warlike. They delight in the +antagonism which combines in one person the extremes of courage and +tenderness. Nelson, dying at Trafalgar, says, "Kiss me, Hardy," and +turns to sleep. Even for their highwaymen this virtue is claimed, and +Robin Hood is the gentlest thief. But they know where their war-dogs +lie, and Cromwell, Blake, Marlborough, Nelson, and Wellington are not +to be trifled with. + +They have vigorous health and last well into middle and old age. They +have more constitutional energy than any other people. They box, +run, shoot, ride, row, and sail from Pole to Pole. They are the most +voracious people of prey that have ever existed, and they have written +the game-books of all countries. + +These Saxons are the hands of mankind--the world's wealth-makers. They +have that temperament which resists every means employed to make its +possessor subservient to others. The English game is main force to main +force, the planting of foot to foot, fair play and an open field--a +rough tug without trick or dodging till one or both comes to pieces. +They hate craft and subtlety; and when they have pounded each other to +a poultice they will shake hands and be friends for the remainder of +their lives. + +Their realistic logic of coupling means to ends has given them the +leadership of the modern world. Montesquieu said: "No people have true +commonsense but those who are born in England." This commonsense is +a perception of laws that cannot be stated, or that are learned only +by practice, with allowance for friction. The bias of the nation is +a passion for utility. They are heavy at the fine arts, but adroit at +the coarse. The Frenchman invented the ruffle, the Englishman added the +shirt. They think him the best-dressed man whose dress is so fit for +his use that you cannot notice or remember to describe it. + +In war the Englishman looks to his means; but, conscious that no +better race of men exists, they rely most on the simplest means. They +fundamentally believe that the best stratagem in naval war is to bring +your ship alongside of the enemy's ship, and bring all your guns to +bear on him until you or he go to the bottom. This is the old fashion +which never goes out of fashion. + +Tacitus said of the Germans: "Powerful only in sudden efforts, they are +impatient of toil and labour." This highly destined race, if it had +not somewhere added the chamber of patience to its brain, would not +have built London. I know not from which of the tribes and temperaments +that went to the composition of the people this tenacity was supplied, +but they clinch every nail they drive. "To show capacity," a Frenchman +described as the end of speech in a debate. "No," said an Englishman, +"but to advance the business." + +The nation sits in the immense city they have builded--a London +extended into every man's mind. The modern world is theirs. They have +made and make it day by day. In every path of practical ability they +have gone even with the best. There is no department of literature, of +science, or of useful art in which they have not produced a first-rate +book. It is England whose opinion is waited for. English trade exists +to make well everything which is ill-made elsewhere. Steam is almost an +Englishman. + +One secret of the power of this people is their mutual good +understanding. Not only good minds are born among them, but all the +people have good minds. An electric touch by any of their national +ideas melts them into one family. The chancellor carries England on +his mace, the midshipman at the point of his dirk, the smith on his +hammer, the cook in the bowl of his spoon, and the sailor times his +oars to "God save the King!" + +I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in +his shoes. The one thing the English value is pluck. The word is +not beautiful, but on the quality they signify by it the nation is +unanimous. The cabmen have it, the merchants have it, the bishops have +it, the women have it, the journals have it. They require you to dare +to be of your own opinion, and they hate the practical cowards who +cannot answer directly Yes or No. + +Their vigour appears in the incuriosity and stony neglect each of the +other. Each man walks, eats, drinks, shaves, dresses, gesticulates, +and in every manner acts and suffers, without reference to the +bystanders--he is really occupied with his own affairs, and does not +think of them. In short, every one of these islanders is an island +himself, safe, tranquil, incommunicable. + +Born in a harsh and wet climate, which keeps him indoors whenever he is +at rest, and, being of an affectionate and loyal temper, the Englishman +dearly loves his home. If he is rich he builds a hall, and brings to +it trophies of the adventures and exploits of the family, till it +becomes a museum of heirlooms. England produces, under favourable +conditions of ease and culture, the finest women in the world. Nothing +can be more delicate without being fantastical, than the courtship and +mutual carriage of the sexes. Domesticity is the taproot which enables +the nation to branch wide and high. In an aristocratical country +like England, not the trial by jury, but the dinner is the capital +institution. It is the mode of doing honour to a stranger to ask him to +eat. + +The practical power of the English rests on their sincerity. Alfred, +whom the affection of the nation makes the type of their race, is +called by a writer at the Norman Conquest, the "truth-speaker." The +phrase of the lowest of the people is "honour-bright," and their +praise, "his word is as good as his bond." They confide in each +other--English believes in English. Madame de Stael says that the +English irritated Napoleon mainly because they have found out how to +unite success with honesty. The ruling passion of an Englishman is a +terror of humbug. + +The English race are reputed morose. They have enjoyed a reputation for +taciturnity for six or seven hundred years. Cold, repressive manners +prevail, and there is a wooden deadness in certain Englishmen which +surpasses all other countrymen. In the power of saying rude truth +no men rival them. They are proud and private, and even if disposed +to recreation will avoid an open garden. They are full of coarse +strength, butcher's meat, and sound sleep. They are good lovers, good +haters, slow but obstinate admirers, and very much steeped in their +temperament, like men hardly awaked from deep sleep which they enjoy. + +The English have a mild aspect, and ringing, cheerful voice. Of +absolute stoutness of spirit, no nation has more or better examples. +They are good at storming redoubts, at boarding frigates, at dying in +the last ditch, or any desperate service which has daylight and honour +in it. They stoutly carry into every nook and corner of the earth +their turbulent sense of inquiry, leaving no lie uncontradicted, no +pretension unexamined. + +They are very conscious of their advantageous position in history. I +suppose that all men of English blood in America, Europe, or Asia, have +a secret feeling of joy that they are not Frenchmen. They only are not +foreigners. In short, I am afraid that the English nature is so rank +and aggressive as to be a little incompatible with any other. The world +is not wide enough for two. More intellectual than other races, when +they live with other races they do not take their language, but bestow +their own. They subsidise other nations, and are not subsidised. They +proselytise and are not proselytised. They assimilate other nations to +themselves and are not assimilated. + + +_III.--Wealth, Aristocracy, and Religion_ + +There is no country in which so absolute a homage is paid to wealth. +There is a mixture of religion in it. The Englishman esteems wealth a +final certificate. He believes that every man has himself to thank if +he does not mend his condition. To pay their debts is their national +point of honour. The British armies are solvent, and pay for what they +take. The British empire is solvent. It is their maxim that the weight +of taxes must be calculated not by what is taken but by what is left. +They say without shame: "I cannot afford it." Such is their enterprise, +that there is enough wealth in England to support the entire population +in idleness one year. The proudest result of this creation of wealth is +that great and refined forces are put at the disposal of the private +citizen, and in the social world the Englishman to-day has the best +lot. I much prefer the condition of an English gentleman of the better +class to that of any potentate in Europe. + +The feudal character of the English state, now that it is getting +obsolete, glares a little in contrast with democratic tendencies. But +the frame of society is aristocratic. Every man who becomes rich buys +land, and does what he can to fortify the nobility, into which he hopes +to rise. The taste of the people is conservative. They are proud of +the castles, language, and symbols of chivalry. English history is +aristocracy with the doors open. Who has courage and faculty, let him +come in. + +All nobility in its beginnings was somebody's natural superiority. The +things these English have done were not done without peril of life, nor +without wisdom of conduct, and the first hands, it may be presumed, +were often challenged to show their right to their honours, or yield +them to better men. + +Comity, social talent, and fine manners no doubt have had their part +also. The lawyer, the farmer, the silk mercer lies _perdu_ under the +coronet, and winks to the antiquary to say nothing. They were nobody's +sons who did some piece of work at a nice moment. + +The English names are excellent--they spread an atmosphere of legendary +melody over the land. Older than epics and histories, which clothe +a nation, this undershirt sits close to the body. What stores of +primitive and savage observation it infolds! Cambridge is the bridge +of the Cam; Sheffield the field of the river Sheaf; Leicester the camp +of Lear; Waltham is Strong Town; Radcliffe is Red Cliff, and so on--a +sincerity and use in naming very striking to an American, whose country +is whitewashed all over with unmeaning names, the cast-off clothes of +the country from which the emigrants came, or named at a pinch from a +psalm tune. + +In seeing old castles and cathedrals I sometimes say: "This was built +by another and a better race than any that now look on it." Their +architecture still glows with faith in immortality. Good churches are +not built by bad men; at least, there must be probity and enthusiasm +somewhere in society. + +England felt the full heat of the Christianity which fermented Europe, +and, like the chemistry of fire, drew a firm line between barbarism +and culture. When the Saxon instinct had secured a service in the +vernacular tongue the Church was the tutor and university of the people. + +Now the Anglican Church is marked by the grace and good sense of its +forms; by the manly grace of its clergy. The gospel it preaches is "By +taste are ye saved." The religion of England is part of good breeding. +When you see on the Continent the well-dressed Englishman come into +his ambassador's chapel and put his face for silent prayer into his +well-brushed hat, you cannot help feeling how much national pride prays +with him, and the religion of a gentleman. + +At this moment the Church is much to be pitied. If a bishop meets an +intelligent gentleman and reads fatal interrogation in his eyes, he has +no resource but to take wine with him. + +But the religion of England--is it the Established Church? No. Is it +the sects? No. Where dwells the religion? Tell me first where dwells +electricity, or motion, or thought? They do not dwell or stay at all. +Electricity is passing, glancing, gesticular; it is a traveller, a +newness, a secret. Yet, if religion be the doing of all good, and for +its sake the suffering of all evil, that divine secret has existed in +England from the days of Alfred to the days of Florence Nightingale, +and in thousands who have no fame. + + + + +Representative Men + + Some of the lectures delivered by Emerson during his lecturing + tour in England were published in 1850 under the title of + "Representative Men," and the main trend of their thought + and opinion is here followed in Emerson's own words. It will + be noted that the use of the term "sceptic," as applied to + Montaigne, is not the ordinary use of the word, but signifies + a person spontaneously given to free inquiry rather than + aggressive disbelief. The estimate of Napoleon is original. In + "Representative Men" Emerson is much more consecutive in his + thought than is customary with him. His pearls are as plentiful + here as elsewhere, but they are not scattered disconnectedly. + + +_Plato_ + +Among secular books, Plato only is entitled to Omar's fanatical +compliment to the Koran: "Burn all books, for their value is in this +book." Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated +among men of thought. Plato is philosophy, and philosophy Plato. No +wife, no children had he, but the thinkers of all civilised nations are +his posterity, and are tinged with his mind. + +Great geniuses have the shortest biographies. They lived in their +writings, and so their house and street life is commonplace. Their +cousins can tell you nothing about them. Plato, especially, has no +external biography. + +Plato stands between the truth and every man's mind, and has almost +impressed language and the primary forms of thought with his name and +seal. + +The first period of a nation, as of an individual, is the period of +unconscious strength. Children cry, scream, and stamp with fury, unable +to express their desires. As soon as they can speak and tell their +wants they become gentle. With nations he is as a god to them who can +rightly divide and define. This defining is philosophy. Philosophy is +the account which the human mind gives to itself of the constitution of +the world. + +Two cardinal facts lie ever at the base of thought: Unity and +Variety--oneness and otherness. + +To this partiality the history of nations corresponds. The country of +unity, faithful to the idea of a deaf, unimplorable, immense fate, is +Asia; on the other side, the genius of Europe is active and creative. +If the East loves infinity, the West delights in boundaries. Plato +came to join and enhance the energy of each. The excellence of Europe +and Asia is in his brain. No man ever more fully acknowledged the +Ineffable; but having paid his homage, as for the human race, to the +illimitable, he then stood erect, and for the human race affirmed: +"And yet things are knowable!" Full of the genius of Europe, he said +"Culture," he said "Nature," but he failed not to add, "There is also +the divine." + +This leads us to the central figure which he has established in his +academy. Socrates and Plato are the double-star which the most powerful +instrument will not entirely separate. Socrates, in his traits and +genius, is the best example of that synthesis which constitutes +Plato's extraordinary power. + +Socrates, a man of humble stem, and a personal homeliness so remarkable +as to be a cause of wit in others, was a cool fellow, with a knowledge +of his man, be he whom he might whom he talked with, which laid +the companion open to certain defeat in debate; and in debate he +immoderately delighted. He was what in our country people call "an old +one." This hard-headed humorist, whose drollery diverted the young +patricians, turns out in the sequel to have a probity as invincible as +his logic, and to be, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his +religion. When accused before the judges, he affirmed the immortality +of the soul and a future reward and punishment, and, refusing to +recant, was condemned to die; he entered the prison and took away all +ignominy from the place. The fame of this prison, the fame of the +discourses there, and the drinking of the hemlock, are one of the most +precious passages in the history of the world. + +The rare coincidence in one ugly body of the droll and the martyr, the +keen street debater with the sweetest saint known to any history at +that time, had forcibly struck the mind of Plato, and the figure of +Socrates placed itself in the foreground of the scene as the fittest +dispenser of the intellectual treasures he had to communicate. + +It remains to say that the defect of Plato is that he is literary, +and never otherwise. His writings have not the vital authority which +the screams of prophets and the sermons of unlettered Arabs and Jews +possess. + +And he had not a system. The acutest German, the lovingest disciple +could never tell what Platonism was. No power of genius has ever yet +had the smallest success in explaining existence. The perfect enigma +remains. + + +_Montaigne_ + +The philosophers affirm disdainfully the superiority of ideas. To +men of this world the man of ideas appears out of his reason. The +abstractionist and the materialist thus mutually exasperating each +other, there arises a third party to occupy the middle ground between +the two, the sceptic. He labours to be the beam of the balance. There +is so much to say on all sides. This is the position occupied by +Montaigne. + +In 1571, on the death of his father, he retired from the practice of +the law, at Bordeaux, and settled himself on his estate. Downright +and plain dealing, and abhorring to be deceived or to deceive, he was +esteemed in the country for his sense and probity. In the civil wars of +the League, which converted every house into a fort, Montaigne kept his +gates open, and his house without defence. All parties freely came and +went, his courage and honor being universally esteemed. + +Montaigne is the frankest and honestest of all writers. The essays are +an entertaining soliloquy on every random topic that comes into his +head, treating everything without ceremony, yet with masculine sense. I +know not anywhere the book that seems less written. It is the language +of conversation transferred to a book. Montaigne talks with shrewdness, +knows the world, and books, and himself; never shrieks, or protests, or +prays. He keeps the plain; he rarely mounts or sinks; he likes to feel +solid ground and the stones underneath. + +We are natural believers. We are persuaded that a thread runs +through all things, and all worlds are strung on it as beads. But +though we reject a sour, dumpish unbelief, to the sceptical class, +which Montaigne represents, every man at some time belongs. The +ground occupied by the sceptic is the vestibule of the temple. The +interrogation of custom at all points is an inevitable stage in +the growth of every superior mind. It stands in the mind of the +wise sceptic that our life in this world is not quite so easy of +interpretation as churches and school books say. He does not wish to +take ground against these benevolences, but he says: "There are doubts. +Shall we, because good nature inclines us to virtue's side, say, 'There +are no doubts--and lie for the right?' Is not the satisfaction of the +doubts essential to all manliness?" + +I may play with the miscellany of facts, and take those superficial +views which we call scepticism; but I know they will presently appear +to me in that order which makes scepticism impossible. For the world is +saturated with deity and law. Things seem to tend downward, to justify +despondency, to promote rogues, to defeat the just; but by knaves as +by martyrs the just cause is carried forward, and general ends are +somewhat answered. The world-spirit is a good swimmer, and storms and +waves cannot drown him. Through the years and the centuries, through +evil agents, through toys and atoms, a great and beneficent tendency +irresistibly streams. So let a man learn to look for the permanent in +the mutable and fleeting; let him learn to bear the disappearance of +things he was wont to reverence without losing his reverence. + + +_Shakespeare_ + +Shakespeare is the only biographer of Shakespeare. So far from +Shakespeare being the least known, he is the one person in all modern +history known to us. What point of morals, of manners, of economy, +of philosophy, of taste, of conduct of life has he not settled? +What district of man's work has he not remembered? What king has he +not taught statecraft? What maiden has not found him finer than her +delicacy? What lover has he not outloved? + +Some able and appreciating critics think no criticism on Shakespeare +valuable that does not rest purely on the dramatic merit; that he is +falsely judged as poet and philosopher. I think as highly as these +critics of his dramatic merit, but still think it secondary. He was +a full man who liked to talk; a brain exhaling thoughts and images, +which, seeking vent, found the drama next at hand. + +Shakespeare is as much out of the category of eminent authors as he is +out of the crowd. He is inconceivably wise; the others, conceivably. +With this wisdom of life is the equal endowment of imaginative and +lyric power. An omnipresent humanity co-ordinates all his faculties. +He has no peculiarity, no importunate topic, but all is duly given. No +mannerist is he; he has no discoverable egotism--the great he tells +greatly, the small subordinately. He is wise without emphasis or +assertion; he is strong as Nature is strong, who lifts the land into +mountain slopes without effort, and by the same rule as she floats a +bubble in the air, and likes as well to do the one as the other. This +power of transferring the inmost truth of things into music and verse +makes him the type of the poet. + +One royal trait that belongs to Shakespeare is his cheerfulness. He +delights in the world, in man, in woman, for the lovely light that +sparkles from them. Beauty, the spirit of joy, he sheds over the +universe. If he appeared in any company of human souls, who would not +march in his troop? He touches nothing that does not borrow health and +longevity from his festal style. He was master of the revels to mankind. + + +_Napoleon_ + +Among the eminent persons of the nineteenth century, Bonaparte owes his +predominance to the fidelity with which he expresses the aim of the +masses of active and cultivated men. If Napoleon was Europe, it was +because the people whom he swayed were little Napoleons. He is the +representative of the class of industry and skill. "God has granted," +says the Koran, "to every people a prophet in its own tongue." Paris, +London, and New York, the spirit of commerce, of money, of material +power, were also to have their prophet--and Bonaparte was qualified and +sent. He was the idol of common men because he, in transcendent degree, +had the qualities and powers of common men. He came to his own and they +received him. + +An Italian proverb declares that if you would succeed you must not be +too good. Napoleon renounced, once for all, sentiments and affections, +and helped himself with his hands and his head. The art of war was the +game in which he exerted his arithmetic. He had a directness of action +never before combined with so much comprehension. History is full of +the imbecility of kings and governors. They are a class of persons to +be much pitied, for they know not what they should do. But Napoleon +understood his business. He knew what to do, and he flew to his mark. +He put out all his strength; he risked everything; he spared nothing; +he went to the edge of his possibilities. + +This vigour was guarded and tempered by the coldest prudence and +punctuality. His very attack was never the inspiration of courage, but +the result of calculation. The necessity of his position required a +hospitality to every sort of talent, and his feeling went along with +this policy. In fact, every species of merit was sought and advanced +under his government. Seventeen men in his time were raised from +common soldiers to the rank of king, marshal, duke, or general. I call +Napoleon the agent or attorney of the middle class of modern society. + +His life was an experiment, under the most favourable conditions, of +the powers of intellect without conscience. All passed away, like the +smoke of his artillery, and left no trace. He did all that in him lay +to live and thrive without moral principle. + + +_Goethe_ + +I find a provision in the constitution of the world for the writer or +secretary who is to report the doings of the miraculous spirit of life +that everywhere throbs and works. Nature will be reported. All things +are engaged in writing their history. The planet goes attended by its +shadow. The air is full of sounds, the sky of tokens; the ground is all +memoranda and signatures. + +Society has really no graver interest than the well-being of the +literary class. Still, the writer does not stand with us on any +commanding ground. I think this to be his own fault. There have been +times when he was a sacred person; he wrote Bibles; the first hymns; +the codes; the epics; tragic songs; Sibylline verses; Chaldaean oracles. +Every word was true, and woke the nations to new life. How can he be +honoured when he is a sycophant ducking to the giddy opinion of a +reckless public? + +Goethe was the philosopher of the nineteenth century multitude, +hundred-handed, Argus-eyed, able and happy to cope with the century's +rolling miscellany of facts and sciences, and by his own versatility +dispose of them with ease; and what he says of religion, of passion, +of marriage, of manners, of property, of paper-money, of periods of +belief, of omens, of luck, of whatever else, refuses to be forgotten. + +What distinguishes Goethe, for French and English readers, is an +habitual reference to interior truth. But I dare not say that Goethe +ascended to the highest grounds from which genius has spoken. He is +incapable of self-surrender to the moral sentiment. Goethe can never +be dear to men. His is a devotion to truth for the sake of culture. +But the idea of absolute eternal truth, without reference to my own +enlargement by it is higher; and the surrender to the torrent of poetic +inspiration is higher. + + + + +ERASMUS + +Familiar Colloquies + + Desiderius Erasmus, the most learned ecclesiastic of the + fifteenth century, and the friend of Luther and other reformers, + was born at Rotterdam on October 28, 1466, and died at Basel on + July 12, 1536. He was the son of a Dutchman named Gerard, and, + according to the fashion of the age, changed his family name + into its respective Latin and Greek equivalents, Desiderius and + Erasmus, meaning "desired," or "loved." Entering the priesthood + in 1492, he pursued his studies at Paris, and became so renowned + a scholar that he was, on visiting England, received with + distinction, not only at the universities, but also by the king. + For some time Erasmus settled in Italy, brilliant prospects being + held out to him at Rome; but his restless temperament impelled + him to wander again, and he came again to England, where he + associated with the most distinguished scholars, including Dean + Colet and Sir Thomas More. Perhaps nothing in the whole range + of mediaeval literature made a greater sensation immediately on + its appearance, in 1521, than the "Colloquia," or "Familiar + Colloquies Concerning Men, Manners, and Things," of Erasmus. As + its title indicates, it consists of dialogues, and its author + intended it to make youths more proficient in Latin, that + language being the chief vehicle of intercommunication in the + Middle Ages. But Erasmus claims, in his preface, that another + purpose of the book is to make better men as well as better + Latinists, for he says: "If the ancient teachers of children are + commended who allured the young with wafers, I think it ought + not to be charged on me that by the like reward I allure youths + either to the elegancy of the Latin tongue or to piety." This + selection is made from the Latin text. + + +_Concerning Men, Manners and Things_ + +Erasmus issued his first edition of the "Colloquies" in 1521. +Successive editions appeared with great rapidity. Its popularity +wherever Latin was read was immense, but it was condemned by the +Sarbonne, prohibited in France, and devoted to the flames publicly +in Spain. The reader of its extraordinary chapters will not fail +to comprehend that such a fate was inevitable in the case of such a +production in those times. For, as the friend of the reformers who were +"turning the world upside down," Erasmus in this treatise penned the +most audacious, sardonic, and withering onslaught ever delivered by +any writer on ecclesiastical corruption of religion. He never attacks +religion itself, but extols and defends it; his aim is to launch a +series of terrific innuendoes on ecclesiasticism as it had developed +and as he saw it. He satirically, and even virulently, attacks monks +and many of their habits, the whole system of cloister-life, the +festivals and pilgrimages which formed one of the chief features of +religious activity, and the grotesque superstitions which his peculiar +genius for eloquent irony so well qualified him to caricature. + +This great work, one of the epoch-making books of the world, consists +of sixty-two "Colloquies," of very varying length. They treat of the +most curiously diverse topics, as may be imagined from such titles of +the chapters as "The Youth's Piety," "The Lover and the Maiden," "The +Shipwreck," "The Epithalamium of Peter Egidius," "The Alchemist," "The +Horse Cheat," "The Cyclops, or the Gospel Carrier," "The Assembly or +Parliament of Women," "Concerning Early Rising." + +A sample of the style of the "Colloquies" in the more serious sections +may be taken from the one entitled "The Religious Banquet." + +NEPHEW: How unwillingly have I seen many Christians die. Some put their +trust in things not to be confided in; others breathe out their souls +in desperation, either out of a consciousness of their lewd lives, or +by reason of scruples that have been injected into their minds, even in +their dying hours, by some indiscreet men, die almost in despair. + +CHRYSOGLOTTUS: It is no wonder to find them die so, who have spent +their lives in philosophising all their lives about ceremonies. + +NEPHEW: What do you mean by ceremonies? + +CHRYSOGLOTTUS: I will tell you, but with protestation beforehand, +over and over, that I do not find fault with the rites and sacraments +of the Church, but rather highly approve of them; but I blame a +wicked and superstitious sort of people who teach people to put their +confidence in these things, omitting those things that make them truly +Christians. If you look into Christians in common, do they not live as +if the whole sum of religion consisted in ceremonies? With how much +pomp are the ancient rites of the Church set forth in baptism? The +infant waits without the church door, the exorcism is performed, the +catechism is performed, vows are made, Satan is abjured with all his +pomps and pleasures; then the child is anointed, signed, seasoned with +salt, dipped, a charge given to its sureties to see it well brought +up; and the oblation money being paid, they are discharged, and by +this time the child passes for a Christian, and in some sense is so. A +little time after it is anointed again, and in time learns to confess, +receive the sacrament, is accustomed to rest on holy days, to hear +divine service, to fast sometimes, to abstain from flesh; and if he +observes all these he passes for an absolute Christian. He marries a +wife, and then comes on another sacrament; he enters into holy orders, +is anointed again and consecrated, his habit is changed, and then to +prayers. + +Now, I approve of the doing of all this well enough, but the doing +of them more out of custom than conscience I do not approve. But to +think that nothing else is requisite for the making of a Christian I +absolutely disapprove. For the greater part of the men in the world +trust to these things, and think they have nothing else to do but get +wealth by right or wrong, to gratify their passions of lust, rage, +malice, ambition. And this they do till they come on their death-bed. +And then follow more ceremonies--confession upon confession more +unction still, the eucharists are administered; tapers, the cross, the +holy water are brought in; indulgences are procured, if they are to be +had for love or money; and orders are given for a magnificent funeral. +Now, although these things may be well enough, as they are done in +conformity to ecclesiastical customs, yet there are some more internal +impressions which have an efficacy to fortify us against the assaults +of death by filling our hearts with joy, and helping us to go out of +the world with a Christian assurance. + +EUSEBIUS: When I was in England I saw St. Thomas' tomb all over +bedecked with a vast number of jewels of an immense price, besides +other rich furniture, even to admiration. I had rather that these +superfluities should be applied to charitable uses than to be reserved +for princes that shall one time or other make a booty of them. The holy +man, I am confident, would have been better pleased to have had his +tomb adorned with leaves and flowers.... Rich men, nowadays, will have +their monuments in churches, whereas in time past they could hardly get +room for their saints there. If I were a priest or a bishop, I would +put it into the head of these thick-skulled courtiers or merchants +that if they would atone for their sins to Almighty God they should +privately bestow their liberality on the relief of the poor. + + * * * * * + +A wonderful plea for peace, in shape of an exquisite satire, is the +"Colloquy" entitled "Charon." It is a dialogue between Charon, the +ghostly boatman on the River Styx, and Genius Alastor. Its style may be +gathered from the following excerpt. + +CHARON: Whither are you going so brisk, and in such haste, Alastor? + +ALASTOR: O Charon, you come in the nick of time; I was coming to you. + +CHARON: Well, what news do you bring? + +ALASTOR: I bring a message to you and Prosperine that you will be glad +to hear. All the Furies have been no less diligent than they have been +successful in gaining their point. There is not one foot of ground +upon earth that they have not infected with their hellish calamities, +seditions, wars, robberies, and plagues. Do you get your boat and your +oars ready; you will have such a vast multitude of ghosts come to you +anon that I am afraid you will not be able to carry them all over +yourself. + +CHARON: I could have told you that. + +ALASTOR: How came you to know it? + +CHARON: Ossa brought me that news about two days ago! + +ALASTOR: Nothing is more swift than that goddess. But what makes you +loitering here, having left your boat? + +CHARON: My business brought me hither. I came hither to provide myself +with a good strong three-oared boat, for my boat is so rotten and leaky +with age that it will not carry such a burden, if Ossa told me true. + +ALASTOR: What was it that Ossa told you? + +CHARON: That the three monarchs of the world were bent upon each +other's destruction with a mortal hatred, and that no part of +Christendom was free from the rage of war; for these three have drawn +in all the rest to be engaged in the war with them. They are all so +haughty that not one of them will in the least submit to the other. +Nor are the Danes, the Poles, the Scots, nor the Turks at quiet, but +are preparing to make dreadful havoc. The plague rages everywhere: in +Spain, Britain, Italy, France; and, more than all, there is a new fire +sprung out of the variety of opinions, which has so corrupted the minds +of all men that there is no such thing as sincere friendship anywhere; +but brother is at enmity with brother, and husband and wife cannot +agree. And it is to be hoped that this distraction will be a glorious +destruction of mankind, if these controversies, that are now managed by +the tongue and pen, come once to be decided by arms. + +ALASTOR: All that fame has told you is true; for I myself, having been +a constant companion of the Furies, have with these eyes seen more than +all this, and that they never at any time have approved themselves more +worthy of their name than now. + +CHARON: But there is danger lest some good spirit should start up and +of a sudden exhort them to peace. And men's minds are variable, for +I have heard that among the living there is one Polygraphus who is +continually, by his writing, inveighing against wars, and exhorting to +peace. + +ALASTOR: Ay, ay, but he has a long time been talking to the deaf. He +once wrote a sort of hue and cry after peace, that was banished or +driven away; after that an epitaph upon peace defunct. But then, on the +other hand, there are others that advance our cause no less than do +the Furies themselves. They are a sort of animals in black and white +vestments, ash-coloured coats, and various other dresses, that are +always hovering about the courts of the princes, and are continually +instilling into their ears the love of war, and exhorting the nobility +and common people to it, haranguing them in their sermons that it is a +just, holy, and religious war. And that which would make you stand in +admiration at the confidence of these men is the cry of both parties. +In France they preach it up that God is on the French side, and that +they can never be overcome that has God for their protector. In +England and Spain the cry is, "The war is not the king's, but God's"; +therefore, if they do but fight like men, they depend on getting the +victory, and if anyone should chance to fall in the battle, he will not +die, but fly directly up into heaven, arms and all. + + + + +In Praise of Folly + + "The Praise of Folly" was written in Latin, and the title, + "Encomium Moriae," is a pun on the name of his friend, the Greek + word _moria_ (folly) curiously corresponding with his host's + family name. The purpose of this inimitable satire is to cover + every species of foolish men and women with ridicule. Yet through + all the biting sarcasm runs an unbroken vein of religious + seriousness, the contrast greatly enhancing the impression + produced by this masterpiece. + + +_I.--Stultitia's Declamation_ + +In whatever manner I, the Goddess of Folly, may be generally spoken of +by mortals, yet I assert it emphatically that it is from me, Stultitia, +and from my influence only, that gods and men derive all mirth and +cheerfulness. You laugh, I see. Well, even that is a telling argument +in my favour. Actually now, in this most numerous assembly, as soon as +ever I have opened my mouth, the countenances of all have instantly +brightened up with fresh and unwonted hilarity, whereas but a few +moments ago you were all looking demure and woebegone. + +On my very brow my name is written. No one would take me, Stultitia, +for Minerva. No one would contend that I am the Goddess of Wisdom. The +mere expression of my countenance tells its own tale. Not only am I +incapable of deceit, but even those who are under my sway are incapable +of deceit likewise. From my illustrious sire, Plutus [Wealth], I glory +to be sprung, for he, and no other, was the great progenitor of gods +and men, and I care not what Hesiod, or Homer, or even Jupiter himself +may maintain to the contrary. Everything, I affirm, is subjected to the +control of Plutus. War, peace, empires, designs, judicial decisions, +weddings, treaties, alliances, laws, arts, things ludicrous and things +serious, are all administered in obedience to his sovereign will. + +Now notice the admirable foresight which nature exercises, in order +to ensure that men shall never be destitute of folly as the principal +ingredient in their constitution. Wisdom, as your divines and moralists +put it, consists in men being guided by their reason; and folly, in +their being actuated by their passions. See then here what Jupiter +has done. In order to prevent the life of man from being utterly +intolerable, he has endowed him with reason in singularly small +proportion to his passions--only, so to speak, as a half-ounce is to a +pound. And whereas he has dispersed his passions over every portion of +his body, he has confined his reason to a narrow little crevice in his +skull. + +And yet, of these silly human beings, the male sex is born under the +necessity of transacting the business of the world. When Jupiter was +taking counsel with me I advised him to add a woman to the man--a +creature foolish and frivolous, but full of laughter and sweetness, +who would season and sweeten by her folly the sadness of his manly +intelligence. + +When Plato doubted whether or not he should place women in the class +of rational animals, he really only wished to indicate the remarkable +silliness of that sex. Yet women will not be so absolutely senseless as +to be offended if I, a woman myself, the goddess Stultitia, tell them +thus plainly that they are fools. They will, if they look at the matter +aright, be flattered by it. For they are by many degrees more favoured +creatures than men. They have beauty--and oh, what a gift is that! By +its power they rule the rulers of the world. + +The supreme wish of women is to win the admiration of men, and they +have no more effectual means to this end than folly. Men, no doubt, +will contend that it is the pleasure they have in women's society, and +not their folly, that attracts them. I answer that their pleasure is +folly, and nothing but folly, in which they delight. You see, then, +from what fountain is derived the highest and most exquisite enjoyment +that falls to man's lot in life. But there are some men (waning old +crones, most of them) who love their glasses better than the lasses, +and place their chief delight in tippling. Others love to make fools +of themselves to raise a laugh at a feast, and I beg to say that of +laughter, fun, and pleasantry, I--Folly--am the sole purveyor. + + +_II.--The Mockery of Wisdom_ + +So much for the notion that wisdom is of any use in the pleasures of +life. Well, the next thing that our gods of wisdom will assert is that +wisdom is necessary for affairs of state. Says Plato, "Those states +will prosper whose rulers are guided by the spirit of philosophy." With +this opinion I totally disagree. Consult history, and it will tell you +that the two Catos, Brutus, Cassius, the Gracchi, Cicero, and Marcus +Antoninus all disturbed the tranquillity of the state and brought down +on them by their philosophy the disgust and disfavour of the citizens. +And who are the men who are most prone, from weariness of life, to +seek to put an end to it? Why, men of reputed wisdom. Not to mention +Diogenes, the Catos, the Cassii, and the Bruti, there is the remarkable +case of Chiron, who, though he actually had immortality conferred on +him, voluntarily preferred death. + +You see, then, that if men were universally wise, the world would be +depopulated, and there would be need of a new creation. But, since the +world generally is under the influence of folly and not of wisdom, the +case is, happily, different. I, Folly, by inspiring men with hopes +of good things they will never get, so charm away their woes that +they are far from wishing to die. Nay, the less cause there is for +them to desire to live, the more, nevertheless, do they love life. It +is of my bounty that you see everywhere men of Nestorean longevity, +mumbling, without brains, without teeth, whose hair is white, whose +heads are bald, so enamoured of life, so eager to look youthful, that +they use dyes, wigs, and other disguises, and take to wife some frisky +heifer of a creature; while aged and cadaverous-looking women are seen +caterwauling, and, as the Greeks express it, behaving goatishly, in +order to induce some beauteous Phaon to pay court to them. + +As to the wisdom of the learned professions, the more empty-headed and +the more reckless any member of any one of them is, the more he will be +thought of. The physician is always in request, and yet medicine, as it +is now frequently practised, is nothing but a system of pure humbug. +Next in repute to the physicians stand the pettifogging lawyers, who +are, according to the philosophers, a set of asses. And asses, I grant +you that, they are. Nevertheless, it is by the will and pleasure of +these asses that the business of the world is transacted, and they make +fortunes while the poor theologians starve. + +By the immortal gods, I solemnly swear to you that the happiest men +are those whom the world calls fools, simpletons, and blockheads. For +they are entirely devoid of the fear of death. They have no accusing +consciences to make them fear it. They are, happily, without the +experience of the thousands of cares that lacerate the minds of other +men. They feel no shame, no solicitude, no ambition, no envy, no love. +And, according to the theologians, they are free from any imputation of +the guilt of sin! Ah, ye besotted men of wisdom, you need no further +evidence than the ills you have gone through to convince you from what +a mass of calamities I have delivered my idiotic favourites. + +To be deceived, people say, is wretched. But I hold that what is most +wretched is not to be deceived. They are in great error who imagine +that a man's happiness consists in things as they are. No; it consists +entirely in his opinion of what they are. Man is so constituted that +falsehood is far more agreeable to him than truth. + +Does anyone need proof of this? Let him visit the churches, and +assuredly he will find it. If solemn truth is dwelt on, the listeners +at once become weary, yawn, and sleep; but if the orator begins some +silly tale, they are all attention. And the saints they prefer to +appeal to are those whose histories are most made up of fable and +romance. Though to be deceived adds much more to your happiness than +not to be deceived, it yet costs you much less trouble. + +And now to pass to another argument in my favour. Among all the praises +of Bacchus this is the chief, that he drives away care; but he does it +only for a short time, and then all your care comes again. How much +more complete are the benefits mankind derive from me! I also afford +them intoxication, but an intoxication whose influence is perennial, +and all, too, without cost to them. And my favours I deny to nobody. +Mars, Apollo, Saturn, Phoebus, and Neptune are more chary of their +bounties and dole them out to their favourites only but I confine my +favours to none. + + +_III.--Classification of Fools_ + +Of all the men whose doings I have witnessed, the most sordid are men +of trade, and appropriately so, for they handle money, a very sordid +thing indeed. Yet, though they lie, pilfer, cheat, and impose on +everybody, as soon as they grow rich they are looked up to as princes. +But as I look round among the various classes of men, I specially note +those who are esteemed to possess more than ordinary sagacity. Among +these a foremost place is occupied by the schoolmasters. How miserable +would these be were it not that I, Folly, of my benevolence, ameliorate +their wretchedness and render them insanely happy in the midst of their +drudgery! Their lot is one of semi-starvation and of debasing slavery. +In the schools, those bridewells of uproar and confusion, they grow +prematurely old and broken down, Yet, thanks to my good services, they +know not their own misery. For in their own estimation they are mighty +fine fellows, strutting about and striking terror into the hearts of +trembling urchins, half scarifying the little wretches with straps, +canes, and birches. They are, apparently, quite unconscious of the dust +and dirt with which their schoolrooms are polluted. In fact, their own +most wretched servitude is to them a kingdom of felicity. + +The poets owe less to me. Yet they, too, are enthusiastic devotees of +mine, for their entire business consists in tickling the ears of fools +with silly ditties and ridiculously romantic tales. Of the services of +my attendants, Philautia [Self-approbation] and Kolakia [Flattery], +they never fail to avail themselves, and really I do not know that +there is any other class of men in the world amongst whom I should find +more devoted and constant followers. + +Moreover, there are the rhetoricians. Quintilian, the prince of them +all, has written an immense chapter on no more serious subject than +how to excite a laugh. Those, again, who hunt after immortal fame in +the domain of literature unquestionably belong to my fraternity. Poor +fellows! They pass a wretched existence poring over their manuscripts, +and for what reward? For the praise of the very, very limited few who +are capable of appreciating their erudition. + +Very naturally, the barristers merit our attention next. Talk of +female garrulity! Why, I would back any one of them to win a prize for +chattering against any twenty of the most talkative women that you +could pick out. And well indeed would it be if they had no worse fault +than that. I am bound to say that they are not only loquacious, but +pugnacious. Their quarrelsomeness is astounding. + +After these come the bearded and gowned philosophers. Their insane +self-deception as to their sagacity and learning is very delightful. +They beguile their time with computing the magnitude of the sun, +moon, and stars, and they assign causes for all the phenomena of the +universe, as if nature had initiated them into all her secrets. In +reality they know nothing, but profess to know everything. + + +_IV.--On Princes and Pontiffs_ + +It is high time that I should say a few words to you about kings and +the royal princes belonging to their courts. Very different are they +from those whom I have just been describing, who pretend to be wise +when they are the reverse, for these high personages frankly and openly +live a life of folly, and it is just that I should give them their +due, and frankly and openly tell them so. They seem to regard it to be +the duty of a king to addict himself to the chase; to keep up a grand +stud of horses; to extract as much money as possible from the people; +to caress by every means in his power the vulgar populace, in order to +win their good graces, and so make them the subservient tools of his +tyrannical behests. + +As for the grandees of the court, a more servile, insipid, empty-headed +set than the generality of them you will fail to find anywhere. Yet +they wish to be regarded as the greatest personalities on earth. Not a +very modest wish, and yet, in one respect, they are modest enough. For +instance, they wish to be bedecked with gold and gems and purple, and +other external symbols of worth and wisdom, but nothing further do they +require. + +These courtiers, however, are superlatively happy in the belief that +they are perfectly virtuous. They lie in bed till noon. Then they +summon their chaplain to their bedside to offer up the sacrifice of +the mass, and as the hireling priest goes through his solemn farce +with perfunctory rapidity, they, meanwhile, have all but dropped +off again into a comfortable condition of slumber. After this they +betake themselves to breakfast; and that is scarcely over when dinner +supervenes. And then come their pastimes--their dice, their cards, and +their gambling--their merriment with jesters and buffoons, and their +gallantries with court favourites. + +Next let us turn our attention to popes, cardinals, and bishops, who +have long rivalled, if they do not surpass, the state and magnificence +of princes. If bishops did but bear in mind that a pastoral staff is an +emblem of pastoral duties, and that the cross solemnly carried before +them is a reminder of the earnestness with which they should strive +to crucify the flesh, their lot would be one replete with sadness and +solicitude. As things are, a right bonny time do they spend, providing +abundant pasturage for themselves, and leaving their flocks to the +negligent charge of so-called friars and vicars. + +Fortune favours the fool. We colloquially speak of him and such as him +as "lucky birds," while, when we speak of a wise man, we proverbially +describe him as one who has been "born under an evil star," and as one +whose "horse will never carry him to the front." If you wish to get a +wife, mind, above all things, that you beware of wisdom; for the girls, +without exception, are heart and soul so devoted to fools, that you may +rely on it a man who has any wisdom in him they will shun as they would +a vampire. + +And now, to sum up much in a few words, go among what classes of men +you will, go among popes, princes, cardinals, judges, magistrates, +friends, foes, great men, little men, and you will not fail to find +that a man with plenty of money at his command has it in his power to +obtain everything that he sets his heart upon. A wise man, however, +despises money. And what is the consequence? Everyone despises him! + + + + +GESTA ROMANORUM + +A Story-Book of the Middle Ages + + The "Gesta Romanorum," or "Deeds of the Romans," a quaint + collection of moral tales compiled by the monks, was used in + the Middle Ages for pulpit instruction. Hence the curious + "Applications" to the stories, two of which are here given as + examples. Wynkyn de Worde was the first to print the "Gesta" in + English, about 1510. His version is based on Latin manuscripts + of English origin, and differs from the first edition, and from + the Latin text printed abroad about 1473. The stories have + little to do with authentic Roman history, and abound in amusing + confusions, contradictions, and anachronisms. But their interest + is undeniable, and they form the source of many famous pieces of + English literature. In the English "Gesta" occur the originals of + the bond and casket incidents in "The Merchant of Venice." + + +_I.--Of Love_ + +Pompey was a wise and powerful king. He had one well-beloved daughter, +who was very beautiful. Her he committed to the care of five soldiers, +who were to guard her night and day. Before the door of the princess's +chamber they hung a burning lamp, and, moreover, they kept a +loud-barking dog to rouse them from sleep. But the lady panted for the +pleasures of the world, and one day, looking abroad, she was espied by +a certain amorous duke, who made her many fair promises. + +Hoping much from these, the princess slew the dog, put out the light, +and fled by night with the duke. Now, there was in the palace a certain +doughty champion, who pursued the fugitives and beheaded the duke. He +brought the lady home again; but her father would not see her, and +thenceforward she passed her time bewailing her misdeeds. + +Now, at court there was a wise and skilful mediator, who, being moved +with compassion, reconciled the lady with her father and betrothed +her to a powerful nobleman. The king then gave his daughter diverse +gifts. These were a rich, flowing tunic inscribed with the words, +"Forgiven. Sin no more"; and a golden coronet with the legend, "Thy +dignity is from me." Her champion gave her a ring, engraved, "I have +loved thee; learn thou to love." Likewise the mediator bestowed a ring, +saying, "What have I done? How much? Why?" A third ring was given by +the king's son, with the words: "Despise not thy nobility." A fourth +ring, from her brother, bore the motto: "Approach! Fear not. I am thy +brother." Her husband gave a golden coronet, confirming his wife in +the inheritance of his possessions, and superscribed: "Now thou are +espoused, sin no more." + +The lady kept these gifts as long as she lived. She regained the +affections of those whom her folly had estranged, and closed her days +in peace. + + +APPLICATION + +My beloved, the king is our Heavenly Father; the daughter is the soul; +the guardian soldiers are the five senses; the lamp is the will; the +dog is conscience; the duke is the Evil One. The mediator is Christ. +The cloak is our Lord's wounded body. The champion and the brother are +likewise Christ; the coronet is His crown of thorns; the rings are the +wounds in His hands and feet. He is also the Spouse. Let us study to +keep these gifts uninjured. + + +_II.--Of Fidelity_ + +The subject of a certain king, being captured by pirates, wrote to +his father for ransom; but the father refused, and the youth was +left wasting in prison. Now, his captor had a beautiful and virtuous +daughter, who came to comfort the prisoner. At first he was too +disconsolate to listen to her, but at length he begged her to try +to set him free. The lady feared her father's wrath, but at last, on +promise of marriage, she freed the young man, and fled with him to his +own country. His father said, "Son, I am overjoyed at thy return, but +who is the lady under thy escort?" + +When his son told him, he charged him, on pain of losing his +inheritance, not to marry her. + +"But she released me from deadly peril," said the youth. + +The father answered, "Son, thou mayest not confide in her, for she hath +deceived her own father; and, furthermore, although she indeed set +thee free, it was but to oblige thee to marry her. And since it was an +unworthy passion that was the source of thy liberty, I think that she +ought not to be thy wife." + +When the lady heard these reasons, she answered thus, "I have not +deceived my parent. He that deceives diminishes a certain good. But my +father is so rich that he needs not any addition. Wherefore, your son's +ransom would have left him but little richer, while you it would have +utterly impoverished. I have thus served you, and done my father no +injury. As for unworthy passion, that arises from wealth, honours, or a +handsome appearance, none of which your son possessed, for he had not +even enough to procure his ransom, and imprisonment had destroyed his +beauty. Therefore, I freed him out of compassion." + +When the father heard this, he could object nothing more. So the son +married the lady with great pomp, and closed his life in peace. + + +APPLICATION + +My beloved, the son is the human race, led captive by the devil. The +father is the world, that will not redeem the sinner, but loves to +detain him. The daughter is Christ. + + +_III.--O Venial Sin_ + +Julian, a noble soldier, fond of the chase, was one day pursuing a +stag, which turned and addressed him thus, "Thou who pursuest me so +fiercely shalt one day destroy thy parents." + +In great alarm, Julian sought a far country, where he enlisted with a +certain chieftain. For his renowned services in war and peace he was +made a knight, and wedded to the widow of a castellan, with her castle +as a dowry. + +Meanwhile, his parents sought him sorrowing, and coming at length to +Julian's castle in his absence, they told his wife their story. The +lady, for the love she bore her husband, put them into her own bed, and +early in the morning went forth to her devotions. Julian returned, and +softly entering his wife's apartment, saw two persons therein, and was +filled with terrible alarm for his lady's fealty. + +Without pause, he slew both, and hurried out. Meeting his wife in the +church porch, he fell into amazement, and asked who they might be. +Hearing the truth, he was shaken with an agony of tears, and cried, +"Accursed that I am! Dearest wife, forgive, and receive my last +farewell!" + +"Nay," she replied. "Wilt thou abandon me, beloved, and leave me +widowed? I, that have shared thy happiness will now share thy grief!" + +Together they departed to a great and dangerous river, where many had +perished. There they built a hospital, where they abode in contrition, +ferrying over such as wished to cross the river, and cherishing the +poor. After many years, Julian was aroused at midnight by a dolorous +voice calling his name. He found and ferried over a leper, perishing +with cold. Failing to warm the wretch by other means, Julian placed +him in his own bed, and strove by the heat of his own body to restore +him. After a while he who seemed sick and cold and leprous appeared +robed in immortal splendour, and, waving his light wings, seemed ready +to mount up into heaven. Turning upon his wondering host a look of the +utmost benignity, the visitant exclaimed, "Julian, the Lord hath sent +me to thee to announce the acceptance of thy contrition. Ere long thou +and thy partner will sleep in Him." + +So saying, the angelic messenger disappeared, and Julian and his wife, +after a short time occupied in good works, died in peace. + + +_IV.--Of the End of Sinners_ + +Dionysius records that Perillus, wishing to become the artificer of +Phalaris, the cruel tyrant of Agrigentum, presented him with a brazen +bull. In its side was a secret door, for the entry of those who should +be burned to death within. The idea was that the agonised cries of the +victim, resembling the roaring of a bull and nothing human, should +arouse no feeling of mercy. The king, highly applauding the invention, +said, "Friend, the value of thy industry is still untried; more cruel +even than the people account me, thou thyself shalt be the first +victim." + +There is no law more equitable than that "the artificer of death should +perish by his own devices," as Ovid hath observed. + + +_V.--Of Too Much Pride_ + +As the Emperor Jovinian lay abed, reflecting on his power and +possessions, he impiously asked, "Is there any other god than I?" + +Amid such thoughts he fell asleep. + +Now, on the morrow, as he followed the chase, he separated himself +from his followers in order to bathe in a stream. And as he bathed, one +like him in all respects took the emperor's dress, and arraying himself +in them, mounted the monarch's horse, and joined the royal retinue, +who knew him not from their master. Jovinian, horseless and naked, was +vexed beyond measure. + +"Miserable that I am," he exclaimed, "I will to a knight who lives +hard by. Him have I promoted; haply he will befriend me." But when he +declared himself to be Jovinian, the knight ordered him to be flogged. +"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the emperor, "is it possible that one whom I +have loaded with honours should use me thus?" + +Next he sought out a certain duke, one of his privy counsellors, and +told his tale. + +"Poor, mad wretch," said the duke. "I am but newly returned from the +palace, where I left the emperor." + +He therefore had Jovinian flogged, and imprisoned. Contriving to +escape, he went to the palace. "Surely," he reflected, "my servants +will know me." But his own porter denied him. Nevertheless, he +persuaded the man to take a secret sign to the empress, and to demand +his imperial robes. The empress, sitting at table with the feigned +emperor, was much disturbed, and said, "Oh, my lord, there is a vile +fellow at the gate who declares the most hidden passages of our life, +and says he is my husband." + +Being condemned to be dragged by a horse's tail, Jovinian, in despair, +sought his confessor's cell. But the holy man would not open to him, +although at last, being adjured by the name of the Crucified, he gave +him shrift at the window. Thereupon he knew the emperor, and giving him +some clothes, bade him show himself again at the palace. This he did, +and was received with due obeisance. Still, none knew which was the +emperor, and which the impostor, until the feigned emperor spake. + +"I," said he, "am the guardian angel of the king's soul. He has now +purged his pride by penance; let your obedience wait on him." + +So saying, he disappeared. The emperor gave thanks to God, lived +happily after, and finished his days in peace. + + +_VI.--Of Avarice_ + +A covetous and wicked carpenter placed all his riches in a log, which +he hid by his fireside. Now, the sea swept away that part of his house, +and drifted the log to a city where lived a generous man. He found the +log, cleft it, and laid the gold in a secure place until he should +discover the owner. + +Now, the carpenter, seeking his wealth with lamentations, came by +chance to the house of him that had found it. Mentioning his loss, his +host said to himself, "I will prove if God will that I return his money +to him." He then made three cakes, one filled with earth, the second +with dead men's bones, and the third with some of the lost gold. The +carpenter, being invited to choose, weighed the cakes in his hand, and +finding that with earth heaviest, took it. + +"And if I want more, my worthy host," said he, "I will choose that," +laying his hand on the cake containing the bones. "The third you may +keep for yourself." + +"Thou miserable varlet," cried the host. "It is thine own gold, which +plainly the Lord wills not that I return to thee." + +So saying, he distributed all the treasure among the poor, and drove +the carpenter away from his house in great tribulation. + + +_VII.--Of Temporary Tribulation_ + +Antiochus, king of Antioch, had one lovely daughter, who was much +courted. But her father, seeking to withhold her from marriage, +proposed a riddle to every suitor, and each one who failed to guess the +answer was put to death. Among the suitors came Apollonius, the young +Prince of Tyre, who guessed the riddle, the answer to which revealed a +shameful secret of the king's life. Antiochus, loudly denying that the +young man had hit upon the truth, sent him away for thirty days, and +bade him try again, on pain of death. So Apollonius departed. + +Now, Antiochus sent his steward, Taliarchus, to Tyre, with orders to +destroy Apollonius; but by the time the steward arrived the prince had +put to sea in a fleet laden with treasure, corn, and many changes of +raiment. Hearing this, Antiochus set a price on the head of Apollonius, +and pursued him with a great armament. The prince, arriving at Tharsus, +saved that city from famine by the supplies he brought, and a statue +was raised in his honour. Then, by the advice of one Stranguilio and +his wife, Dionysias, he sailed to Pentapolis. On the way he suffered +shipwreck, and reached that city on a plank. There, by his skill in +athletics and music, he won the favour of Altistrates, the king, who +gave him his daughter to wife. + +Some time after, hearing that the wicked Antiochus and his daughter +had been killed by lightning, Apollonius and his wife set sail to take +up the sovereignty of Antioch, which had fallen to him. On the way the +lady died, leaving a new-born daughter. The prince placed his wife's +body in a coffin smeared with pitch, and committed it to the deep. In +the coffin he put money and a tablet, instructing anyone who found the +body to bury it sumptuously. Apollonius returned to Pentapolis and +gave his infant daughter into the care of Stranguilio and Dionysias. +Then he himself sailed away and wandered the world in deep grief. In +the meantime, his wife's body was cast up at Ephesus, and was found by +the physician Cerimon, one of whose pupils revived the lady, who became +a vestal of Diana. + +Years passed, and the child, who was called Tharsia, incurred the +jealousy of Dionysias, because she was fairer than her own child +Philomatia. Dionysias sought to kill Tharsia, who, at the critical +moment, was carried away by pirates, and sold into slavery at +Machylena. There her beauty and goodness protected her, so that none +who came to her master's evil house would do her wrong. She persuaded +her owner to let her earn her bread by her accomplishments in music and +the unravelling of hard sayings. Thus she won the love of the prince of +that place, Athanagoras, who protected her. + +Some time afterwards a strange fleet came to Machylena. Athanagoras, +struck by the beauty of one of the ships, went on board, and asked to +see the owner. He found a rugged and melancholy man, who was none other +than Apollonius. In due time that prince was joyfully reunited with his +child, who was given in marriage to her perserver. Speedy vengeance +overtook Tharsia's cruel owner, and later Stranguilio and Dionysias +suffered for their misdeeds. Being warned by a dream to return to +Ephesus, Apollonius found his wife in the precinct of the vestals, and, +together with her, he reigned long and happily over Antioch and Tyre. +After death he went into everlasting life. To which may God, of His +infinite mercy, lead us all. + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + +The Citizen of the World + + "The Citizen of the World," after appearing in the "Public + Ledger" newspaper in 1760-61, was published in two volumes in + 1762, with the sub-title, "Letters from a Chinese Philosopher, + Residing in London, to his Friends in the East." It established + Goldsmith's literary reputation (see Vol. IV, p. 275). The + author's main purpose was to indulge in a keen, but not + ill-natured, satire upon Western, and especially upon English, + civilisation; but sometimes the satiric manner yields place to + the philosophical. + + +_The Troubles of the Great_ + +FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM, FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE CEREMONIAL +ACADEMY AT PEKIN + +The princes of Europe have found out a manner of rewarding their +subjects who have behaved well, by presenting them with about two +yards of blue ribbon, which is worn over the shoulder. They who are +honoured with this mark of distinction are called knights, and the king +himself is always the head of the order. This is a very frugal method +of recompensing the most important services, and it is very fortunate +for kings that their subjects are satisfied with such trifling rewards. +Should a nobleman happen to lose his leg in battle, the king presents +him with two yards of ribbon, and he is paid for the loss of his limb. +Should an ambassador spend all his paternal fortunes in supporting the +honour of his country abroad, the king presents him with two yards of +ribbon, which is to be considered as an equivalent to his estate. In +short, while a European king has a yard of blue or green ribbon left, +he need be under no apprehension of wanting statesmen, generals, and +soldiers. + +I cannot sufficiently admire those kingdoms in which men with large +patrimonial estates are willing thus to undergo real hardships for +empty favours. A person, already possessed of a competent fortune, +who undertakes to enter the career of ambition feels many real +inconveniences from his station, while it procures him no real +happiness that he was not possessed of before. He could eat, drink, and +sleep before he became a courtier, as well, perhaps better, than when +invested with his authority. + +What real good, then, does an addition to a fortune already sufficient +procure? Not any. Could the great man, by having his fortune increased, +increase also his appetite, then precedence might be attended with real +amusement. But, on the contrary, he finds his desire for pleasure often +lessen as he takes pains to be able to improve it; and his capacity of +enjoyment diminishes as his fortune happens to increase. + +Instead, therefore, of regarding the great with envy, I generally +consider them with some share of compassion. I look upon them as a set +of good-natured, misguided people, who are indebted to us, and not to +themselves, for all the happiness they enjoy. For our pleasure, and +not their own, they sweat under a cumbrous heap of finery; for our +pleasure, the hackneyed train, the slow-parading pageant, with all +the gravity of grandeur, moves in review; a single coat, or a single +footman, answers all the purposes of the most indolent refinement as +well; and those who have twenty may be said to keep one for their own +pleasure, and the other nineteen for ours. So true is the observation +of Confucius, "That we take greater pains to persuade others that we +are happy than in endeavouring to think so ourselves." + +But though this desire of being seen, of being made the subject of +discourse, and of supporting the dignities of an exalted station, +be troublesome to the ambitious, yet it is well that there are men +thus willing to exchange ease and safety for danger and a ribbon. We +lose nothing by their vanity, and it would be unkind to endeavour to +deprive a child of its rattle.... Adieu. + + +_The Folly of the Recluse_ + +FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO HINGPO, HIS SON + +Books, my son, while they teach us to respect the interests of others, +often make us unmindful of our own; while they instruct the youthful +reader to grasp at social happiness, he grows miserable in detail. I +dislike, therefore, the philosopher, who describes the inconveniences +of life in such pleasing colours that the pupil grows enamoured of +distress, longs to try the charms of poverty, meets it without dread, +nor fears its inconveniences till he severely feels them. + +A youth who has thus spent his life among books, new to the world, +and unacquainted with man but by philosophic information, may be +considered as a being whose mind is filled with the vulgar errors of +the wise. He first has learned from books, and then lays it down as +a maxim that all mankind are virtuous or vicious in excess; warm, +therefore, in attachments, and steadfast in enmity, he treats every +creature as a friend or foe. Upon a closer inspection of human nature +he perceives that he should have moderated his friendship, and softened +his severity; he finds no character so sanctified that has not its +failings, none so infamous but has somewhat to attract our esteem; he +beholds impiety in lawn, and fidelity in fetters. + +He now, therefore, but too late, perceives that his regards should have +been more cool, and his hatred less violent; that the truly wise seldom +court romantic friendships with the good, and avoid, if possible, the +resentment even of the wicked; every movement gives him fresh instances +that the bonds of friendship are broken if drawn too closely, and that +those whom he has treated with disrespect more than retaliate the +injury; at length, therefore, he is obliged to confess that he has +declared war upon the vicious half of mankind, without being able to +form an alliance among the virtuous to espouse his quarrel. + +Our book-taught philosopher, however, is now too far advanced to +recede; and though poverty be the just consequence of the many +enemies his conduct has created, yet he is resolved to meet it +without shrinking. "Come, then, O Poverty! for what is there in thee +dreadful to the Wise? Temperance, Health, and Frugality walk in thy +train; Cheerfulness and Liberty are ever thy companions. Come, then, +O Poverty, while kings stand by, and gaze with admiration at the true +philosopher's resignation!" + +The goddess appears, for Poverty ever comes at the call; but, alas! +he finds her by no means the charming figure books and his warm +imagination had painted. All the fabric of enthusiasm is at once +demolished, and a thousand miseries rise upon its ruins, while +Contempt, with pointing finger, is foremost in the hideous procession. + +The poor man now finds that he can get no kings to look at him while +he is eating; he finds that, in proportion as he grows poor, the world +turns its back upon him, and gives him leave to act the philosopher +in all the majesty of solitude. Spleen now begins to take up the man; +not distinguishing in his resentments, he regards all mankind with +detestation, and commencing man-hater, seeks solitude to be at liberty +to rail. + +It has been said that he who retires to solitude is either a beast +or an angel. The censure is too severe, and the praise unmerited; +the discontented being who retires from society is generally some +good-natured man, who has begun life without experience, and knew not +how to gain it in his intercourse with mankind. Adieu. + + +_On Mad Dogs_ + +FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM + +Indulgent Nature seems to have exempted this island from many of those +epidemic evils which are so fatal in other parts of the world. But +though the nation be exempt from real evils, think not, my friend, that +it is more happy on this account than others. They are afflicted, it is +true, with neither famine nor pestilence, but then there is a disorder +peculiar to the country, which every season makes strange ravages +among them; it spreads with pestilential rapidity, and infects almost +every rank of people; what is still more strange, the natives have no +name for this peculiar malady, though well enough known to foreign +physicians by the name of epidemic terror. + +A season is never known to pass in which the people are not visited +by this cruel calamity in one shape or another, seemingly different, +though ever the same. The people, when once infected, lose their relish +for happiness, saunter about with looks of despondence, ask after the +calamities of the day, and receive no comfort but in heightening each +other's distress. A dread of mad dogs is the epidemic terror which now +prevails, and the whole nation is at present actually groaning under +the malignity of its influence. + +It is pleasant enough for a neutral being like me, who have no share in +these ideal calamities, to mark the stages of this national disease. +The terror at first feebly enters with a little dog that had gone +through a neighbouring village, that was thought to be mad by several +who had seen him. The next account comes that a mastiff ran through +a certain town, and had bit five geese, which immediately ran mad, +foamed at the bill, and died in great agonies soon after. Then comes an +affecting history of a little boy bit in the leg, and gone down to be +dipped in the salt water; when the people have sufficiently shuddered +at that, they are next congealed with a frightful account of a man who +was said lately to have died from a bite he had received some years +before. + +My landlady, a good-natured woman, but a little credulous, waked me +some mornings ago, before the usual hour, with horror and astonishment +in her looks; she desired me, if I had any regard for my safety, to +keep within, for a few days ago so dismal an accident had happened as +to put all the world upon their guard. A mad dog down in the country, +she assured me, had bit a farmer who, soon becoming mad, ran into his +own yard, and bit a fine brindled cow; the cow quickly became as mad +as the man, began to foam at the mouth, and raising herself up, walked +about on her hind legs, sometimes barking like a dog, and sometimes +attempting to talk like the farmer. + +Were most stories of this nature thoroughly examined, it would be +found that numbers of such as have been said to suffer were in no way +injured; and that of those who have been actually bitten, not one in a +hundred was bit by a mad dog. Such accounts in general, therefore, only +serve to make the people miserable by false terrors. + +Of all the beasts that graze the lawn or hunt the forest, a dog is +the only animal that, leaving his fellows, attempts to cultivate the +friendship of man; no injuries can abate his fidelity; no distress +induce him to forsake his benefactor; studious to please and fearing to +offend, he is still an humble, steadfast dependent, and in him alone +fawning is not flattery. How unkind, then, to torture this faithful +creature who has left the forest to claim the protection of man! How +ungrateful a return to the trusty animal for all his services! Adieu. + + +_On Elections_ + +FROM LIEN CHI ALTANGI TO FUM HOAM + +The English are at present employed in celebrating a feast, which +becomes general every seventh year: the parliament of the nation being +then dissolved, and another appointed to be chosen. This solemnity +falls infinitely short of our Feast of the Lanterns in magnificence and +splendour; it is also surpassed by others of the East in unanimity and +pure devotion; but no festival in the world can compare with it for +eating. + +To say the truth, eating seems to make a grand ingredient in all +English parties of zeal, business, or amusement. When a church is to be +built, or an hospital endowed, the directors assemble, and instead of +consulting upon it, they eat upon it, by which means the business goes +forward with success. When the poor are to be relieved, the officers +appointed to dole out public charity assemble and eat upon it. Nor has +it ever been known that they filled the bellies of the poor till they +had satisfied their own. But in the election of magistrates the people +seem to exceed all bounds. + +What amazes me is that all this good living no way contributes to +improve their good humour. On the contrary, they seem to lose their +temper as they lose their appetites; every morsel they swallow, and +every glass they pour down, serves to increase their animosity. +Upon one of these occasions I have actually seen a bloody-minded +man-milliner sally forth at the head of a mob, to face a desperate +pastrycook, who was general of the opposite party. + +I lately made an excursion to a neighbouring village, in order to be +a spectator of the ceremonies practised. Mixing with the crowd, I was +conducted to the hall where the magistrates are chosen; but what tongue +can describe this scene of confusion! The whole crowd seemed equally +inspired with anger, jealousy, politics, patriotism, and punch. I +remarked one figure that was carried up by two men upon this occasion. +I at first began to pity his infirmities as natural, but soon found the +fellow so drunk that he could not stand; another made his appearance +to give his vote, but though he could stand, he actually lost the use +of his tongue, and remained silent; a third, who, though excessively +drunk, could both stand and speak, being asked the candidate's name +for whom he voted, could be prevailed upon to make no other answer but +"Tobacco and brandy!" In short, an election-hall seems to be a theatre, +where every passion is seen without disguise; a school where fools may +readily become worse, and where philosophers may gather wisdom. Adieu. + + +_Opinions and Anecdotes_ + +The most ignorant nations have always been found to think most highly +of themselves. + +It may sound fine in the mouth of a declaimer, when he talks of +subduing our appetites, of teaching every sense to be content with +a bare sufficiency, and of supplying only the wants of nature; but +is there not more satisfaction in indulging these appetites, if with +innocence and safety, than in restraining them? Am I not better pleased +in enjoyment, than in the sullen satisfaction of thinking that I can +live without enjoyment? + +When five brethren had set upon the great Emperor Guisong, alone +with his sabre he slew four of them; he was struggling with the +fifth, when his guards, coming up, were going to cut the conspirator +into a thousand pieces. "No, no!" cried the emperor, with a placid +countenance. "Of all his brothers he is the only one remaining; at +least let one of the family be suffered to live, that his aged parents +may have somebody left to feed and comfort them." + +It was a fine saying of Nangfu the emperor, who, being told that his +enemies had raised an insurrection in one of the distant provinces, +said: "Come, then, my friends, follow me, and I promise you that +we shall quickly destroy them." He marched forward, and the rebels +submitted upon his approach. All now thought that he would take the +most signal revenge, but were surprised to see the captives treated +with mildness and humanity. "How!" cries his first minister, "is this +the manner in which you fulfil your promise? Your royal word was given +that your enemies should be destroyed, and behold, you have pardoned +all, and even caressed some!" "I promised," replied the emperor, with a +generous air, "to destroy my _enemies_; I have fulfilled my word, for +see, they are enemies no longer; I have made _friends_ of them." + +Well it were if rewards and mercy alone could regulate the +commonwealth; but since punishments are sometimes necessary, let them +at least be rendered terrible, by being executed but seldom; and let +justice lift her sword rather to terrify than revenge. + + + + +HENRY HALLAM + +Introduction to the Literature of Europe + + The full volume of this work, "Introduction to the Literature of + Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries," + was published about 1837, and is a vast accumulation of facts, + but is lacking in organic unity, in vigour, and vitality. + Hallam's spelling of proper names has been followed throughout + this epitome. (Henry Hallam, biography; see Vol. XI, p. 255.) + + +_I.--Before the Fifteenth Century_ + +The establishment of the barbarian nations on the ruins of the Roman +Empire in the West was followed by an almost universal loss of +classical learning. The last of the ancients, and one who forms a link +with the Middle Ages, is Boethius, whose "Consolation of Philosophy" +mingles a Christian sanctity with the lessons of Greek and Roman sages. +But after his death, in 524, the downfall of learning and eloquence was +inconceivably rapid, and a state of general ignorance, except here and +there within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, lasted for five centuries. + +The British islands led the way in the slow restoration of knowledge. +The Irish monasteries, in the seventh century, were the first to send +out men of comparative eminence, and the Venerable Bede, in the eighth +century, was probably superior to any other man whom the world at that +time possessed. Then came the days when Charlemagne laid in his vast +dominions the foundations of learning. + +In the tenth century, when England and Italy alike were in the most +deplorable darkness, France enjoyed an age of illumination, and a +generation or two later we find many learned and virtuous churchmen +in Germany. But it is not until the twelfth century that we enter +on a new epoch in European literary history, when universities were +founded, modern languages were cultivated, the study of Roman law was +systematically taken up, and a return was made to a purer Latinity. + +Next, we observe the rise of the scholastic theology and philosophy, +with their strenuous attempt at an alliance between faith and +reason. The dry and technical style of these enquiries, their minute +subdivisions of questions, and their imposing parade of accuracy, +served indeed to stimulate subtlety of mind, but also hindered the +revival of polite literature and the free expansion of the intellect. + +Dante and Petrarch are the morning stars of the modern age. They lie +outside our period, and we must pass them over with a word. It is +sufficient to notice that, largely by their influence, we find, in +the year 1400, a national literature existing in no less than seven +European languages--three in the Spanish peninsula, the French, the +Italian, the German, and the English. + + +_II.--The Fifteenth Century_ + +We now come to a very important event--the resuscitation of the study +of Greek in Italy. In 1423, Giovanni Aurispa, of Sicily, brought +over two hundred manuscripts from Greece, including Plato, Plotinus, +Diodorus, Pindar, and many other classics. Manuel Chrysoloras, teacher +of Greek in Florence, had trained a school of Hellenists; and copyists, +translators, and commentators set to work upon the masterpieces of +the ancient world. We have good reason to doubt whether, without the +Italians of those times, the revival of classical learning would ever +have occurred. The movement was powerfully aided by Nicolas V., pope +in 1447, who founded the Vatican library, supported scholars, and +encouraged authors. + +Soon after 1450, the art of printing began to be applied to the +purposes of useful learning, and Bibles, classical texts, collections +of fables; and other works were rapidly given to the world. The +accession to power of Lorenzo de Medici in 1464 marks the revival of +native Italian genius in poetry, and under his influence the Platonic +academy, founded by his grandfather Cosmo, promoted a variety of +studies. But we still look in vain to England for either learning or +native genius. The reign of Edward IV. is one of the lowest points in +our literary annals. + +In France, the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," 1486, and the poems of +Villon, 1489, show a marked advance in style. Many French "mysteries," +or religious dramas, belong to this period, and this early form of the +dramatic art had also much popularity in Germany and in Italy. Literary +activity, in France and in Germany, had become regularly progressive by +the end of the century. + +Two men, Erasmus and Budaeus, were now devoting incessant labour, in +Paris, to the study of Greek; and a gleam of light broke out even in +England, where William Grocyn began, in 1491, to teach that language in +Oxford. On his visit to England, in 1497, Erasmus was delighted with +everything he found, and gave unbounded praise to the scholarship of +Grocyn, Colet, Linacre, and the young Thomas More. + +The fifteenth century was a period of awakening and of strenuous +effort. But if we ask what monuments of its genius and erudition still +receive homage, we can give no very triumphant answer. Of the books +then written, how few are read now! + + +_III.--The Sixteenth Century (1500-1550)_ + +In the early years of this century the press of Aldus Manutius, who had +settled in Venice in 1489, was publishing many texts of the classics, +Greek as well as Latin. + +It was at this time that the regular drama was first introduced into +Europe. "Calandra," the earliest modern comedy, was presented at +Venice in 1508, and about the same time the Spanish tragi-comedy of +"Calisto and Meliboea" was printed. The pastoral romance, also, made +its appearance in Portugal; and the "Arcadia," 1502, by the Italian +Sannazaro, a work of this class, did much to restore the correctness +and elegance of Italian prose. Peter Bembo's "Asolani," 1505, a +dialogue on love, has also been thought to mark an epoch in Italian +literature. At the same time, William Dunbar, with his "Thistle and +Rose," 1503, and his allegorical "Golden Targe," was leading the van of +British poetry. + +The records of voyages of discovery begin to take a prominent place. +The old travels of Marco Polo, as well as those of Sir John Mandeville, +and the "Cosmography" of Ptolemy, had been printed in the previous +century; but the stupendous discoveries of the close of that age now +fell to be told. The voyages of Cadamosto, a Venetian, in Western +Africa, appeared in 1507; and those of Amerigo Vespucci, entitled +"Mondo Nuovo," in the same year. An epistle of Columbus himself had +been printed in Germany about 1493. + +Leo X., who became pope in 1513, placed men of letters in the most +honourable stations of his court, and was the munificent patron of +poets, scholars, and printers. Rucellai's "Rosmunda," a tragedy played +before Leo in 1515, was the earliest known trial of blank verse. The +"Sophonisba" of Trissino, published in 1524, a play written strictly +on the Greek model, had been acted some years before. Two comedies by +Ariosto were presented about 1512. + +Meanwhile, the printing press became very active in Paris, Basle, +and Germany, chiefly in preparing works for the use of students in +universities. But in respect of learning, we have the testimony of +Erasmus that neither France, nor Germany, stood so high as England. In +Scotland, boys were being taught Latin in school; and the translation +of the AEneid by Gawin Douglas, completed about 1513, shows, by its +spirit and fidelity, the degree of scholarship in the north. The only +work of real genius which England can claim in this age is the "Utopia" +of Sir Thomas More, first printed in 1516. + +Erasmus diffuses a lustre over his age, which no other name among the +learned supplies. About 1517, he published an enlarged edition of his +"Adages," which displays a surprising intimacy with Greek and Roman +literature. The most remarkable of them, in every sense, are those +which reflect with excessive bitterness on kings and priests. Erasmus +knew that the regular clergy were not to be conciliated, and resolved +to throw away the scabbard; and his invectives against kings proceeded +from a just sense of the oppression of Europe in that age by ambitious +and selfish rulers. + +We are now brought by necessary steps to the great religious revolution +known as the Reformation, with which we are only concerned in so far +as it modified the history of literature. In all his dispute, Luther +was sustained by a prodigious force of popular opinion; and the German +nation was so fully awakened to the abuses of the Church that, if +neither Luther nor Zwingli had ever been born, a great religious schism +was still at hand. Erasmus, who had so manifestly prepared the way for +the new reformers, continued, beyond the year 1520, favourable to their +cause. But some of Luther's tenets he did not and could not approve; +and he was already disgusted by that intemperance of language which +soon led him to secede entirely from the Protestant side. + +The laws of synchronism bring strange partners together, and we +may pass at once from Luther to Ariosto, whose "Orlando Furioso" +was printed at Ferrara in 1516. Ariosto has been, after Homer, the +favourite poet of Europe. His grace and facility, his clear and rapid +stream of language, his variety of invention, left him no rival. + +No edition of "Amadis de Gaul" has been proved to exist before that +printed at Seville in 1519. This famous romance was translated into +French between 1540 and 1557, and into English by Munday in 1619. + +A curious dramatic performance was represented in Paris in 1511, and +published in 1516. It is entitled "Le Prince des Sots et la Mere +sotte," by Peter Gringore; its chief aim was to ridicule the Pope and +the court of Rome. Hans Sachs, a shoemaker of Nuremberg, produced his +first carnival play in 1517. The English poets Hawes and Skelton fall +within this period. + +From 1520 to 1550, Italy, where the literature of antiquity had been +first cultivated, still retained her superiority in the fine perception +of its beauties, but the study was proceeding also elsewhere in Europe. +Few books of that age give us more insight into its literary history +and the public taste than the "Circeronianus" of Erasmus, against which +Scaliger wrote with unmannerly invective. The same period of thirty +years is rich with poets, among whom are the Spanish Mendoza, the +Portuguese Ribero, Marot in France, many hymn-writers in Germany; and +in England, Wyatt and Surrey. At this time also, Spain was forming its +national theatre, chiefly under the influence of Lope de Rueda and of +Torres Naharro, the inventor of Spanish comedy. The most celebrated +writer of fiction in this age is Rabelais, than whom few have greater +fertility of language and imagination. + + +_IV.--The Sixteenth Century (1550-1600)_ + +Montaigne's "Essays," which first appeared at Bordeaux in 1580, make +an epoch in literature, being the first appeal from the academy to the +haunts of busy and idle men; and this delightful writer had a vast +influence on English and French literature in the succeeding age. + +Turning now to the Italian poets of our period, we find that most of +them are feeble copyists of Petrarch, whose style Bembo had rendered so +popular. Casa, Costanzo, Baldi, Celio Magno, Bernardino Rota, Gaspara +Stampa, Bernado Tasso, father of the great Tasso, Peter Aretin, and +Firenzuola, flourished at this time. The "Jerusalem" of Torquato Tasso +is the great epic of modern times; it is read with pleasure in almost +every canto, though the native melancholy of Tasso tinges all his poem. +It was no sooner published than it was weighed against the "Orlando +Furioso," and Europe has not yet agreed which scale inclines. + +Spanish poetry is adorned by Luis Ponce de Leon, born in 1527, a +religious and mystical lyric poet. The odes of Herrera have a lyric +elevation and richness of phrase, derived from the study of Pindar +and of the Old Testament. Castillejo, playful and witty, attempted to +revive the popular poetry, and ridiculed the imitators of Petrarch. + +The great Camoens had now arisen in Portugal; his "Lusiad," written +in praise of the Lusitanian people, is the mirror of his loving, +courageous, generous, and patriotic heart. Camoens is the chief +Portuguese poet in this age, and possibly in every other. + +This was an age of verse in France. Pierre Ronsard, Amadis Jamyn his +pupil, Du Bartas, Pibrac, Desportes, and many others, were gradually +establishing the rules of metre, and the Alexandrine was displacing the +old verse of ten syllables. + +Of German poetry there is little to say; but England had Lord Vaux's +short pieces in "The Paradise of Dainty Devices"; Sackville, with his +"Induction" to the "Mirrour of Magistrates," 1559; George Gascoyne, +whose "Steel Glass," 1576, is the earliest English satire; and, above +all, Spenser, whose "Shepherd's Kalendar" appeared in 1579. This work +was far more natural and more pleasing than the other pastorals of +the age. Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis," and his "Rape of Lucrece," +were published in 1593-94. Sir Philip Sidney, Raleigh, Lodge, Breton, +Marlowe, Green, Watson, Davison, Daniel, and Michael Drayton were now +writing poems, and Drake has a list of more than two hundred English +poets of this time. + +The great work of the period is, however, the "Faery Queen," the first +three books of which were published in 1590, and the last three in +1596. Spenser excels Ariosto in originality, force, and variety of +character, and in depth of reflection, but especially in the poetical +cast of feeling. + +Of dramatic literature, between 1550 and 1600, we have many Italian +plays by Groto, Decio da Orto, and Tasso. The pastoral drama +originating with Agostino Beccari in 1554, reached its highest +perfection in Tasso's "Aminta," which was followed by Guarini's "Pastor +Fido." + +Lope de Vega is the great Spanish dramatist of this time. His +astonishing facility produced over two thousand original dramas, +of which three hundred have been preserved. Jodelle, the father of +the French theatre, presented his "Cleopatre" in 1552. In 1598 the +foundations were laid of the Comedie Francaise. + +In England, Sackville led the way with his tragedy of "Gorboduc," +played at Whitehall before Elizabeth in 1562. In 1576, the first +public theatre was erected in Blackfriars. Several young men of talent +appeared, Marlowe, Peele, Greene, Kyd, and Nash, as the precursors +of Shakespeare; and in 1587, being then twenty-three years old, the +greatest of dramatists settled in London, and several of his plays had +been acted before the close of the century. + +Among English prose writings of this time may be mentioned Ascham's +"Schoolmaster," 1570, Puttenham's "Art of English Poesie," 1586, and, +as a curiosity of affectation, Lilly's "Euphues." But the first good +prose-writer is Sir Philip Sidney, whose "Arcadia" appeared in 1590; +and the finest master of prose in the Elizabethan period is Hooker. The +first book of the "Ecclesiastical Polity" is one of the masterpieces of +English eloquence. + + +_V.--The Seventeenth Century (1600-1650)_ + +The two great figures in philosophy of this period are Bacon and +Descartes. At its beginning the higher philosophy had been little +benefited by the labours of any modern enquirer. It was become, indeed, +no strange thing to question the authority of Aristotle, but his +disciples could point with scorn at the endeavours made to supplant it. + +In the great field of natural jurisprudence, the most eminent name +in this period is that of Hugo Grotius, whose famous work "De Jure +Belli et Pacis" was published in Paris in 1625. This treatise made an +epoch in the philosophical, and, we might almost say, in the political +history of Europe. + +In the history of poetry, between 1600 and 1650, we have the Italians +Marini, Tassoni, and Chiabrera, the last being the founder of a school +of lyric poetry known as "Pindaric." Among Spanish poets are Villegas +and Gongora; in France, Malherbe, Regnier, Racan, Maynard, Voiture, +and Sarrazin; Opitz, in Germany, was the founder of German poetic +literature; and this, the golden age of Dutch literature, included the +poets Spiegel, Hooft, Cats, and Vondel. The English poets of these +fifty years are very numerous, but for the most part not well known. +Spenser was imitated by Phineas and Giles Fletcher. Sir John Denham, +Donne, Crashaw, Cowley, Daniel, Michael Drayton, William Browne, and +Sir William Davenant wrote at this time, to which also belong the +sonnets of Shakespeare. Drummond of Hawthornden, Carew, Ben Jonson, +Wither, Habington, Suckling, and Herrick, were all in the first half +of the seventeenth century. John Milton was born in 1609, and in 1634 +wrote "Comus," which was published in 1637; "Lycidas," the "Allegro" +and "Penseroso," the "Ode on the Nativity," and Milton's sonnets +followed. + +The Italian drama was weak at this period, but in Spain Lope de Vega +and Calderon were at the height of their glory. In France, Corneille's +"Melite," his first play, was produced in 1629, and was followed by +"Clitandre," "La Veuve," "Medea," "Cid," and others. The English +drama was exceedingly popular, and the reigns of James and Charles +were the glory of our theatre. Shakespeare--the greatest name in all +literature--Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Shirley, +Heywood, Webster, and many other dramatists contributed to its fame. + +In prose writings, Italian and Spanish works of this time show a great +decline in taste; but in France, the letters of the moralist Balzac and +of Voiture, from 1625, have ingenuity and sprightliness. English prose +writings of the period include the works of Knolles, Raleigh, Daniel, +Bacon, Milton, Clarendon; Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy," Earle's +"Microcosmographia" and Overbury's "Characters." + +Fiction was represented by "Don Quixote," of which the first part was +published in 1605--almost the only Spanish book which is popularly read +in every country; by the French heroic romance, and by the English +Godwin's "Man in the Moon." + + +_VI.--The Seventeenth Century (1650-1700)_ + +Among the greatest writers of this period are Bossuet and Pascal, in +theology; Gassendi, Malebranche, Spinoza, and Locke, in philosophy; and +Cumberland, Puffendorf, La Rochefoucauld, and La Bruyere, in morals. +Leibnitz wrote on jurisprudence before he passed on to philosophy, and +the same subject was treated also by Godefroy, Domat, and Noodt. + +Italian poetry had now improved in tone. Filicaja, a man of serious +and noble spirit, wrote odes of deep patriotic and religious feeling. +Guidi, a native of Pavia, raised himself to the highest point that any +lyric poet of Italy has attained. Spain and Portugal were destitute +of poets; but in France La Fontaine, Boileau, Benserade, Chaulieu, +Segrais, Deshoulieres, and Fontenelle, were famous. In England at this +time there were Waller, Milton, Butler, and Dryden, as well as Marvell +and other minor poets. + +Neither Italy nor Spain was now producing dramatic works of any +importance, but it was very different in France. Corneille continued +to write for the stage, and Racine's first play, the "Andromaque," was +presented in 1667. This was followed by "Britannicus," "Berenice," +"Mithridate," "Iphigenie," and others. Racine's style is exquisite; he +is second only to Virgil among all poets. Moliere, the French writer +whom his country has most uniformly admired, began with "L'Etourdi" in +1653, and his pieces followed rapidly until his death, in 1673. The +English Restoration stage was held by Dryden, Otway, Southern, Lee, +Congreve, Wycherley, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh. + +In prose literature Italy is deficient; but this period includes the +most distinguished portion of the great age in France, the reign of +Louis XIV. Bossuet, Malebranche, Arnauld, and Pascal are among the +greatest of French writers. + +English writing now became easier and more idiomatic, sometimes even to +the point of vulgarity. The best masters of prose were Cowley, Evelyn, +Dryden, and Walton in the "Complete Angler." + +Among novels of the period may be named those of Quevedo in Spain; +of Scarron, Bergerac, Perrault, and Hamilton, in France; and the +"Pilgrim's Progress"--for John Bunyan may pass for the father of our +novelists--in England. Swift's "Tale of a Tub," than which Rabelais has +nothing superior, was indeed not published till 1704, but was written +within the seventeenth century. + + + + +WILLIAM HAZLITT + +Lectures on the English Poets + + William Hazlitt, critic and essayist, was born on April 10, + 1778, and was educated in London for the Unitarian ministry. But + his talents for painting and for writing diverted him from that + career, and soon, though he showed great promise as a painter, + he devoted himself to authorship, contributing largely to the + "Morning Chronicle," the "Examiner," and the "Edinburgh Review." + His wide, genial interests, his ardent temperament, and his + admirable style, have given Hazlitt a high place among English + critics. He is no pedant or bookworm; he is always human, always + a man of the world. His "Characters of Shakespeare's Plays," + 1817, gave him a reputation which was confirmed by his "Lectures + on the English Poets," delivered next year at the Surrey + Institute. Further lectures, on the English comic writers and on + the Elizabethan dramatists, followed. His essays, on all kinds + of subjects, are collected in volumes under various titles. All + are the best of reading. Hazlitt's later works include "Liber + Amoris," 1823; "Spirit of the Age," 1825, consisting of character + studies; and the "Life of Napoleon" (Hazlitt's hero), 1828-30. + The essayist was twice married, and died on September 18, 1830. + + +_What Is Poetry?_ + +The best general notion which I can give of poetry is that it is the +natural impression of any object or event by its vividness exciting +an involuntary movement of imagination and passion, and producing, +by sympathy, a certain modulation of the voice or sounds expressing +it. Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds with +Nature and itself. He who has a contempt for poetry cannot have much +respect for himself or for anything else. It is not a mere frivolous +accomplishment; it has been the study and delight of mankind in all +ages. + +Nor is it found only in books; wherever there is a sense of beauty, +or power, or harmony, as in a wave of the sea, or in the growth of a +flower, there is poetry in its birth. It is not a branch of authorship; +it is the "stuff of which our life is made." The rest is "mere +oblivion," for all that is worth remembering in life is the poetry of +it. If poetry is a dream, the business of life is much the same. If it +is a fiction, made up of what we wish things to be, and fancy that they +are because we wish them so, there is no other or better reality. + +The light of poetry is not only a direct, but also a reflected light, +that, while it shows us the object, throws a sparkling radiance on all +around it; the flame of the passions communicated to the imagination +reveals to us, as with a flash of lightning, the inmost recesses of +thought, and penetrates our whole being. Poetry represents forms +chiefly as they suggest other forms; feelings, as they suggest forms, +or other feelings. Poetry puts a spirit of life and motion into the +universe. It describes the flowing, not the fixed. The poetical +impression of any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or +power that cannot be contained within itself, that is impatient of all +limit; that--as flame bends to flame--strives to link itself to some +other image of kindred beauty or grandeur, to enshrine itself, as it +were, in the highest forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense +of pleasure by expressing it in the boldest manner, and by the most +striking examples of the same quality in other instances. + +As in describing natural objects poetry impregnates sensible +impressions with the forms of fancy, so it describes the feelings of +pleasure or pain by blending them with the strongest movements of +passion and the most striking forms of Nature. Tragic poetry, which is +the most impassioned species of it, strives to carry on the feeling to +the utmost point of sublimity or pathos by all the force of comparison +or contrast, loses the sense of present suffering in the imaginary +exaggeration of it, exhausts the terror or pity by an unlimited +indulgence of it, and lifts us from the depths of woe to the highest +contemplations of human life. + +The use and end of poetry, "both at the first and now, was and is to +hold the mirror up to Nature," seen through the medium of passion and +imagination, not divested of that medium by means of literal truth or +abstract reason. Those who would dispel the illusions of imagination, +to give us their drab-coloured creation in their stead, are not very +wise. It cannot be concealed, however, that the progress of knowledge +and refinement has a tendency to clip the wings of poetry. The province +of the imagination is principally visionary, the unknown and undefined; +we can only fancy what we do not know. There can never be another +Jacob's dream. Since that time the heavens have gone farther off, and +grown astronomical. + +Poetry combines the ordinary use of language with musical expression. +As there are certain sounds that excite certain movements, and the song +and dance go together, so there are, no doubt, certain thoughts that +lead to certain tones of voice, or modulations of sound. The jerks, the +breaks, the inequalities and harshnesses of prose are fatal to the flow +of a poetical imagination, as a jolting road disturbs the reverie of an +absent-minded man. But poetry makes these odds all even. The musical in +sound is the sustained and continuous; the musical in thought is the +sustained and continuous also. An excuse may be made for rhyme in the +same manner. + + +_Chaucer and Spenser_ + +These are two out of the four greatest English poets; but they were +both much indebted to the early poets of Italy, and may be considered +as belonging, in some degree, to that school. Spenser delighted in +luxurious enjoyment; Chaucer in severe activity of mind. Spenser was +the most romantic and visionary of all great poets; Chaucer the most +practical, the most a man of business and the world. + +Chaucer does not affect to show his power over the reader's mind, but +the power which his subject has over his own. The readers of Chaucer's +poetry feel more nearly what the persons he describes must have felt, +than perhaps those of any other poet. There is no artificial, pompous +display; but a strict parsimony of the poet's materials, like the +rude simplicity of the age in which he lived. His words point as an +index to the objects, like the eye or finger. There were none of the +commonplaces of poetic diction in his time, no reflected lights of +fancy, no borrowed roseate tints; he was obliged to inspect things +narrowly for himself, so that his descriptions produce the effect of +sculpture. + +His descriptions of natural scenery possess a characteristic excellence +which may be termed gusto. They have a local truth and freshness which +give the very feeling of the air, the coolness or moisture of the +ground. Inanimate objects are thus made to have a fellow-feeling in the +interest of the story, and render the sentiment of the speaker's mind. + +It was the same trust in Nature and reliance on his subject which +enabled Chaucer to describe the grief and patience of Griselda and the +faith of Constance. Chaucer has more of this deep, internal, sustained +sentiment than any other writer, except Boccaccio. In depth of simple +pathos and intensity of conception, never swerving from his subject, I +think no other writer comes near him, not even the Greek tragedians. + +The poetry of Chaucer has a religious sanctity about it, connected +with the manners and superstitions of the age. It has all the spirit +of martyrdom. It has also all the extravagance and the utmost +licentiousness of comic humour, equally arising out of the manners of +the time. He excelled in both styles, and could pass at will from the +one to the other; but he never confounded the two styles together. + +Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical. There is an +originality, richness, and variety in his allegorical personages and +fictions which almost vie with the splendours of the ancient mythology. +His poetry is all fairyland; he paints Nature not as we find it, but +as we expected to find it, and fulfils the delightful promise of our +youth. His ideas, indeed, seem more distinct than his perceptions. The +love of beauty, however, and not of truth, is the moving principle of +his mind; and he is guided in his fantastic delineations by no rule but +the impulse of an inexhaustible imagination. + +Some people will say that Spenser's poetry may be very fine, but that +they cannot understand it, on account of the allegory. They are afraid +of the allegory. This is very idle. If they do not meddle with the +allegory, the allegory will not meddle with them. Without minding it at +all, the whole is as plain as a pikestaff. + +Spenser is the poet of our waking dreams, and he has invented not +only a language, but a music of his own for them. The undulations are +infinite, like those of the waves of the sea; but the effect is still +the same, lulling the senses into a deep oblivion of the jarring noises +of the world, from which we have no wish ever to be recalled. + + +_Shakespeare and Milton_ + +Those arts which depend on individual genius and incommunicable power +have always leaped at once from infancy to manhood, from the first +rude dawn of invention to their meridian height and dazzling lustre, +and have in general declined ever after. Homer, Chaucer, Spenser, +Shakespeare, Dante, and Ariosto--Milton alone was of a later age, and +not the worse for it--Raphael, Titian, Michael Angelo, Correggio, +Cervantes, and Boccaccio, the Greek sculptors and tragedians, all lived +near the beginning of their arts, perfected, and all but created them. +They rose by clusters, never so to rise again. + +The four greatest names in English poetry are almost the four first we +come to--Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton. There are no others +that can really be put into competition with these. Of these four, +Chaucer excels as the poet of manners, or of real life; Spenser as the +poet of romance; Shakespeare as the poet of Nature, in the largest use +of the term; and Milton as the poet of morality. Chaucer describes +things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be; Shakespeare, as +they would be; and Milton, as they ought to be. The characteristic of +Chaucer is intensity; of Spenser, remoteness; of Milton, elevation; of +Shakespeare, everything. + +The peculiarity of Shakespeare's mind was its generic quality; its +power of communication with all other minds, so that it contained a +universe of thought and feeling within itself. He was just like any +other man, but he was like all other men. He was the least of an +egotist that it was possible to be. He was nothing in himself; but he +was all that others were, or that they could become. His genius shone +equally on the evil and on the good, on the wise and the foolish, the +monarch and the beggar. The world of spirits lay open to him, like +the world of real men and women; and there is the same truth in his +delineations of the one as of the other. Each of his characters is as +much itself, and as absolutely independent of the rest, as well as +of the author, as if they were living persons, not fictions of the +mind. His plays alone are properly expressions of the passions, not +descriptions of them. + +Chaucer's characters are narrative; Shakespeare's, dramatic; Milton's, +epic. In Chaucer we perceive a fixed essence of character. In +Shakespeare there is a continual composition and decomposition of +its elements, a fermentation of every particle in the whole mass, by +its alternate affinity or antipathy to other principles which are +brought in contact with it. Milton took only a few simple principles of +character, and raised them to the utmost conceivable grandeur. + +The passion in Shakespeare is full of dramatic fluctuation. In Chaucer +it is like the course of a river--strong, full, and increasing; but +in Shakespeare it is like the sea, agitated this way and that, and +loud-lashed by furious storms. Milton, on the other hand, takes only +the imaginative part of passion, that which remains after the event, +and abstracts it from the world of action to that of contemplation. + +The great fault of a modern school of poetry [the Lake poets] is that +it would reduce poetry to a mere effusion of natural sensibility; or, +what is worse, would divest it both of imaginary splendour and human +passion, to surround the meanest objects with the morbid feelings and +devouring egotism of the writers' own minds. Milton and Shakespeare did +not so understand poetry. They gave a more liberal interpretation both +to Nature and art. They did not do all they could to get rid of the one +and the other, to fill up the dreary void with the moods of their own +minds. + +Shakespeare's imagination is of the same plastic kind as his conception +of character or passion. Its movement is rapid and devious, and unites +the most opposite extremes. He seems always hurrying from his subject, +even while describing it; but the stroke, like the lightning's, is +as sure as it is sudden. His language and versification are like the +rest of him. He has a magic power over words; they come winged at his +bidding, and seem to know their places. His language is hieroglyphical. +It translates thoughts into visible images. He had an equal genius for +comedy and tragedy; and his tragedies are better than his comedies, +because tragedy is better than comedy. His female characters are the +finest in the world. Lastly, Shakespeare was the least of a coxcomb of +anyone that ever lived, and much of a gentleman. + +Shakespeare discovers in his writings little religious enthusiasm, and +an indifference to personal reputation; in these respects, as in every +other, he formed a direct contrast to Milton. Milton's works are a +perpetual invocation to the muses, a hymn to Fame. He had his thoughts +constantly fixed on the contemplation of the Hebrew theocracy, and of a +perfect commonwealth; and he seized the pen with a hand warm from the +touch of the ark of faith. The spirit of the poet, the patriot, and the +prophet vied with each other in his breast. He thought of nobler forms +and nobler things than those he found about him. He strives hard to say +the finest things in the world, and he does say them. In Milton there +is always an appearance of effort; in Shakespeare, scarcely any. + +Milton has borrowed more than any other writer, and exhausted every +source of imitation; yet he is perfectly distinct from every other +writer. The power of his mind is stamped on every line. He describes +objects of which he could only have read in books with the vividness of +actual observation. + +Milton's blank verse is the only blank verse in the language, except +Shakespeare's, that deserves the name of verse. The sound of his lines +is moulded into the expression of the sentiment, almost of the very +image. + + +_Dryden and Pope_ + +These are the great masters of the artificial style of poetry, as the +four poets of whom I have already treated were of the natural, and they +have produced a kind and degree of excellence which existed equally +nowhere else. + +Pope was a man of exquisite faculties and of the most refined taste; +he was a wit and critic, a man of sense, of observation, and the +world. He was the poet not of Nature, but of art. He saw Nature only +dressed by art; he judged of beauty by fashion; he sought for truth +in the opinions of the world; he judged of the feelings of others by +his own. His muse never wandered with safety but from his library to +his grotto, or from his grotto into his library back again. That which +was the nearest to him was the greatest; the fashion of the day bore +sway in his mind over the immutable laws of Nature. He had none of the +enthusiasm of poetry; he was in poetry what the sceptic is in religion. +Yet within this narrow circle how much, and that how exquisite, was +contained! The wrong end of the magnifier is held to everything, but +still the exhibition is highly curious. If I had to choose, there are +one or two persons--and but one or two--that I should like to have been +better than Pope! + +Dryden was a bolder and more various versifier than Pope; he had +greater strength of mind, but he had not the same delicacy of feeling. +Pope describes the thing, and goes on describing his own descriptions, +till he loses himself in verbal repetitions; Dryden recurs to the +object often, and gives us new strokes of character as well as of his +pencil. + + +_Thomson and Cowper_ + +Thomson is the best of our descriptive poets; the colours with which +he paints still seem wet. Nature in his descriptions is seen growing +around us, fresh and lusty as in itself. He puts his heart into his +subject, and it is for this reason that he is the most popular of all +our poets. But his verse is heavy and monotonous; it seems always +labouring uphill. + +Cowper had some advantages over Thomson, particularly in simplicity +of style, in a certain precision of graphical description, and in a +more careful choice of topics. But there is an effeminacy about him +which shrinks from and repels common and hearty sympathy. He shakes +hands with Nature with a pair of fashionable gloves on; he is delicate +to fastidiousness, and glad to get back to the drawing-room and the +ladies, the sofa, and the tea-urn. He was a nervous man; but to be a +coward is not the way to succeed either in poetry, in war, or in love. +Still, he is a genuine poet, and deserves his reputation. + + +_Robert Burns_ + +Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius; but there is +something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character +about him. He was as much of a man, not a twentieth part as much of a +poet, as Shakespeare. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel--no more. +His pictures of good fellowship, of social glee, of quaint humour, are +equal to anything; they come up to Nature, and they cannot go beyond +it. His strength is not greater than his weakness; his virtues were +greater than his vices. His virtues belonged to his genius; his vices +to his situation. + +Nothing could surpass Burns's love-songs in beauty of expression and in +true pathos, except some of the old Scottish ballads themselves. There +is in these a still more original cast of thought, a more romantic +imagery; a closer intimacy with Nature, a more infantine simplicity of +manners, a greater strength of affection, "thoughts that often lie too +deep for tears." The old English ballads are of a gayer turn. They are +adventurous and romantic; but they relate chiefly to good living and +good fellowship, to drinking and hunting scenes. + + +_Some Contemporary Poets_ + +Tom Moore is heedless, gay, and prodigal of his poetical wealth. +Everything lives, moves, and sparkles in his poetry, while, over all, +love waves his purple light. His levity at last oppresses; his variety +cloys, his rapidity dazzles and distracts the sight. + +Lord Byron's poetry is as morbid as Moore's is careless and dissipated. +His passion is always of the same unaccountable character, at once +violent and sullen, fierce and gloomy. It is the passion of a mind +preying upon itself, and disgusted with, or indifferent to, all other +things. There is nothing less poetical or more repulsive. But still +there is power; and power forces admiration. In vigour of style and +force of conception he surpasses every writer of the present day. + +Walter Scott is deservedly the most popular of living poets. He differs +from his readers only in a greater range of knowledge and facility of +expression. The force of his mind is picturesque rather than moral. He +is to the great poet what an excellent mimic is to a great actor. + +Mr. Wordsworth is the most original poet now living. His poetry is not +external, but internal; he furnishes it from his own mind, and is his +own subject. He is the poet of mere sentiment. Many of the "Lyrical +Ballads" are of inconceivable beauty, of perfect originality and +pathos. But his powers have been mistaken by the age. He cannot form a +whole. He has not the constructive faculty. His "Excursion" is a proof +of this; the line labours, the sentiment moves slowly, but the poem +stands stock-still. + +The Lake school of poetry had its origin in the French Revolution, +or rather in the sentiments and opinions which produced that event. +The world was to be turned topsy-turvy, and poetry was to share its +fate. The paradox they set out with was that all things are by Nature +equally fit subjects for poetry, or rather, that the meanest and most +unpromising are best. They aimed at exciting attention by reversing +the established standards of estimation in the world. An adept in +this school of poetry is jealous of all excellence but his own. He is +slow to admire anything admirable, feels no interest in what is most +interesting to others, no grandeur in anything grand. He sees nothing +but himself and the universe. His egotism is, in some respects, a +madness. The effect of this has been perceived as something odd; but +the cause or principle has never been traced to its source before. The +proofs are to be found throughout many of the poems of Mr. Southey, Mr. +Coleridge, and Mr. Wordsworth. + +I may say of Mr. Coleridge that he is the only person I ever knew who +answered to the idea of a man of genius. But his "Ancient Mariner" is +the only work that gives an adequate idea of his natural powers. In +it, however, he seems to "conceive of poetry but as a drunken dream, +reckless, careless, and heedless of past, present, and to come." + +I have thus gone through my task. I have felt my subject sinking from +under me as I advanced, and have been afraid of ending in nothing. +The interest has unavoidably decreased at almost every step of the +progress, like a play that has its catastrophe in the first or second +act. This, however, I could not help. + + + + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + +The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table + + In 1857 Oliver Wendell Holmes (see Vol. V, p. 87) leapt into fame + by his "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" papers in the "Atlantic + Monthly," then edited by Lowell. His "Professor" and "Poet" + series of papers followed, with hardly less success. In these + writings a robust idealism, humour, fancy, and tenderness are so + gently mixed as to amount to genius. + + +_Every Man His Own Boswell_ + +"All generous minds have a horror of what are commonly called 'facts.' +They are the brute beasts of the intellectual domain. Who does not know +fellows that always have an ill-conditioned fact or two that they lead +after them into decent company like so many bulldogs, ready to let them +slip at every ingenious suggestion, or convenient generalisation, or +pleasant fancy? I allow no 'facts' at this table." + +I continued, for I was in the talking vein, "This business of +conversation is a very serious matter. There are men that it weakens +one to talk with an hour more than a day's fasting would do. They are +the talkers that have what may be called jerky minds. After a jolting +half-hour with one of these jerky companions talking with a dull friend +affords great relief. It is like taking the cat in your lap after +holding a squirrel." + +"Do not dull people bore you?" said one of the lady boarders. + +"Madam," said I, "all men are bores except when we want them. Talking +is like playing on the harp; there is as much in laying the hand on the +strings to stop the vibrations as in twanging them to bring out the +music. There is this, too, about talking," I continued; "it shapes our +thoughts for us; the waves of conversation roll them as the surf rolls +the pebbles on the shore. Writing or printing is like shooting with a +rifle; you may hit your reader's mind, or miss it, but talking is like +playing at a mark with the pipe of an engine--if it is within reach, +and you have time enough, you can't help hitting it." + +The company agreed that this last illustration was of superior +excellence. + + +_The Ageing of Ideas_ + +"I want to make a literary confession now, which I believe nobody +has made before me. I never wrote a 'good' line in my life, but the +moment after it was written it seemed a hundred years old. The rapidity +with which ideas grow old in our memories is in a direct ratio to the +squares of their importance. A great calamity, for instance, is as old +as the trilobites an hour after it has happened. It stains backward +through all the leaves we have turned over in the book of life, before +its blot of tears or of blood is dry on the page we are turning." + +I wish I had not said all this then and there. The pale schoolmistress, +in her mourning dress, was looking at me with a wild sort of +expression; and all at once she melted away from her seat like an image +of snow; a sling shot could not have brought her down better. God +forgive me! + + +_The Confusion of Personality_ + +"We must remember that talking is one of the fine arts--the noblest, +the most important, and the most difficult. It is not easy at the best +for two persons talking together to make the most of each other's +thoughts, there are so many of them." + +The company looked as if they wanted an explanation. + +"When John and Thomas, for instance, are talking together," I +continued, "it is natural that among the six there should be more or +less confusion and misapprehension." + +Our landlady turned pale. No doubt she thought there was a screw +loose in my intellect, and that it involved the probable loss of a +boarder. Everybody looked up, and the old gentleman opposite slid the +carving-knife to one side, as it were, carelessly. + +"I think," I said, "I can make it plain that there are at least six +personalities distinctly to be recognised as taking part in that +dialogue between John and Thomas. + + +THREE JOHNS + + 1. The real John; known only to his Maker. + + 2. John's ideal John; never the real one, and often very unlike + him. + + 3. Thomas's ideal John; never the real John, nor John's John, but + often very unlike either. + + +THREE THOMASES + + 1. The real Thomas. + + 2. Thomas's ideal Thomas. + + 3. John's ideal Thomas. + +"It follows that until a man can be found who knows himself as his +Maker knows him, or who sees himself as others see him, there must be +at least six persons engaged in every dialogue between two. No wonder +two disputants often get angry when there are six of them talking and +listening all at the same time." + +A very unphilosophical application of the above remarks was made by +a young fellow, answering to the name of John, who sits near me at +table. A certain basket of peaches, a rare vegetable, little known to +boarding-houses, was on its way to me _via_ this unlettered Johannes. +He appropriated the three that remained in the basket, remarking that +there was just one apiece for him. I convinced him that his practical +inference was hasty and illogical--but in the meantime he had eaten the +peaches. + + +_More on Books_ + +"Some of you boarders ask me why I don't write a novel, or something +of that kind. Well, there are several reasons against it. In the first +place I should tell all my secrets, and I maintain that verse is the +proper medium for such revelations. Again, I am terribly afraid I +should show up all my friends, and I am afraid all my friends would not +bear showing up very well. And sometimes I have thought I might be too +dull to write such a story as I should wish to write. And, finally, I +think it is very likely I _shall_ write a story one of these days. + +"I saw you smiled when I spoke about the possibility of my being too +dull to write a good story. When one arrives at the full and final +conclusion that he or she is really dull, it is one of the most +tranquillising and blessed convictions that can enter a mortal's mind. + +"How sweetly and honestly one said to me the other day, 'I hate +books!' I did not recognise in him inferiority of literary taste +half so distinctly as I did simplicity of character, and fearless +acknowledgment of his inaptitude for scholarship. In fact, I think +there are a great many who read, with a mark to keep their place, that +really 'hate books,' but never had the wit to find it out, or the +manliness to own it." + + +_Dual Consciousness_ + +I am so pleased with my boarding-house that I intend to remain here, +perhaps for years. + +"Do thoughts have regular cycles? Take this: All at once a conviction +flashes through us that we have been in the same precise circumstances +as at the present instant once or many times before." + +When I mentioned this the Schoolmistress said she knew the feeling +well, and didn't like to experience it; it made her think she was a +ghost, sometimes. + +The young fellow whom they call John said he knew all about it. He +had just lighted a cheroot the other day when a tremendous conviction +came over him that he had done just that same thing ever so many times +before. + +"How do I account for it? Well, some think that one of the hemispheres +of the brain hangs fire, and the small interval between the perceptions +of the nimble and the sluggish half seems an indefinitely long period, +and therefore the second perception appears to be the copy of another, +ever so old." + + +_The Race of Life_ + +"Nothing strikes one more in the race of life than to see how many give +out in the first half of the course. 'Commencement day' always reminds +me of the start of the 'Derby.' Here we are at Cambridge and a class is +first 'graduating.' Poor Harry! he was to have been there, but he has +paid forfeit. + +"_Ten years gone._ First turn in the race. A few broken down; two or +three bolted. 'Cassock,' a black colt, seems to be ahead of the rest. +'Meteor' has pulled up. + +"_Twenty years._ Second corner turned. 'Cassock' has dropped from the +front, and 'Judex,' an iron-grey, has the lead. But look! how they have +thinned out! Down flat--five--six--how many? They will not get up again +in this race be very sure! + +"_Thirty years._ Third corner turned. 'Dives,' bright sorrel, ridden +by the fellow in a yellow jacket, begins to make play fast--is getting +to be the favourite with many. But who is that other one that now +shows close up to the front? Don't you remember the quiet brown colt +'Asteroid,' with the star in his forehead? That is he; he is one of the +sort that lasts. 'Cassock' is now taking it easily in a gentle trot. + +"_Forty years._ More dropping off, but places much as before. + +"_Fifty years._ Race over. All that are on the course are coming +in at a walk; no more running. Who is ahead? Ahead? What! and the +winning-post a slab of white or gray stone standing out from that turf +where there is no more jockeying, or straining for victory! Well, the +world marks their places in its betting-book; but be sure that these +matter very little, if they have run as well as they knew how! + +"I will read you a few lines, if you do not object, suggested by +looking at a section of one of those chambered shells to which is given +the name of Pearly Nautilus. + + +THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS + + This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, + Sails the unshadowed main-- + The venturous bark that flings + On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings + In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, + And coral reefs lie bare, + Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. + + Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl; + Wrecked is the ship of pearl! + And every chambered cell, + Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell, + As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, + Before thee lies revealed-- + Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! + + Year after year beheld the silent toil + That spread his lustrous coil; + Still, as the spiral grew, + He left the past year's dwelling for the new, + Stole with soft step its shining archway through, + Built up its idle door, + Stretched in his last found home, and knew the old no more. + + Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, + Child of the wandering sea, + Cast from her lap forlorn! + From thy dead lips a clearer note is born + Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! + While on mine ear it rings, + Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: + + Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, + As the swift seasons roll! + Leave thy low-vaulted past! + Let each new temple, nobler than the last, + Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, + Till thou at length art free, + Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea! + + +_Sensibility and Scholarship_ + +"Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which +they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. The side-door +opens at once into the sacred chambers. There is almost always at +least one key to this side-door. This is carried for years hidden in a +mother's bosom. Be very careful to whom you entrust one of these keys +of the side-door. Some of those who come in at the side-door have a +scale of your whole nervous system, and can play on all the gamut of +your sensibilities in semi-tones. Married life is the school in which +the most accomplished artists in this department are found. Be very +careful to whom you give the side-door key. + +"The world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its +great scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries, +if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of +manhood, and I think if we could ask Abraham to dine with us men of +letters next Saturday we should feel honoured by his company." + + +_A Growing Romance_ + +"I should like to make a few intimate revelations relating especially +to my early life, if I thought you would like to hear them." + +The schoolmistress turned in her chair and said, "If we should _like_ +to hear them--we should _love_ to." + +So I drew my chair a shade nearer her, and went on to speak of voices +that had bewitched me. + +"I wish you could hear my sister's voice," said the schoolmistress. + +"If it is like yours it must be a pleasant one," said I. + +Lately she has been walking early and has brought back roses in her +cheeks. I love the damask rose best of all flowers. + +Our talk had been of trees, and I had been comparing the American +and the English elms in the walk we call the Mall. "Will you walk +out and look at those elms with me after breakfast?" I said to the +schoolmistress. + +I am not going to tell lies about it, and say that she blushed. On the +contrary, she turned a little bit pale, but smiled brightly, and said, +"Yes, with pleasure." So she went to fetch her bonnet, and the old +gentleman opposite followed her with his eyes, and said he wished he +was a young fellow. + +"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to the corner. + +"Then we won't take it," said I. + +When we reached the school-room door the damask roses were so much +heightened in colour by exercise that I felt sure it would be useful to +her to take a stroll like this every morning. + +I have been low-spirited and listless lately. It is coffee, I think. I +notice that I tell my secrets too easily when I am downhearted. There +are inscriptions on our hearts never seen except at dead low-tide. +And there is a woman's footstep on the sand at the side of my deepest +ocean-buried inscription. + +I am not going to say which I like best, the seashore or the mountains. +The one where your place is, is the best for you; but this difference +there is--you can domesticate mountains. The sea is feline. It licks +your feet, its huge flanks purr very pleasantly for you; but it will +crack your bones and eat you for all that, and wipe the crimsoned foam +from its jaws as if nothing had happened. The mountains have a grand, +stupid, lovable tranquillity; the sea has a fascinating, treacherous +intelligence. + +"If I thought I should ever see the Alps!" said the schoolmistress. + +"Perhaps you might some time or other," I said. + +"It is not very likely," she answered. + +_Tableau._ Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures in the foreground, +two of them standing apart; one of them a gentleman--oh--ah--yes!--the +other a lady, leaning on his shoulder. (The reader will understand this +was an internal, private, subjective diorama, seen for one instant on +the background of my own consciousness.) + + * * * * * + +I can't say just how many walks she and I had taken together. I found +the effect of going out every morning was decidedly favourable on her +health. I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. Better too +few words from the woman we love than too many; while she is silent, +Nature is working for her; while she talks she works for herself. Love +is sparingly soluble in the words of men, therefore they speak much of +it; but one syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a +man's heart can hold. + + +_Nature's Patient Advance_ + +I don't know anything sweeter than the leaking in of Nature through all +the cracks in the walls and floors of cities. You heap a million tons +of hewn rocks on a square mile or so of earth which was green once. +The trees look down from the hill-tops and ask each other, as they +stand on tiptoe, "What are these people about?" And the small herbs +look up and whisper back, "We will go and see." So the small herbs pack +themselves up in the least possible bundles, and wait until the night +wind steals to them and whispers, "Come with me." Then they go softly +with it into the great city--one to a cleft in the pavement, one to a +spout on the roof, one to a seam in the marble over a rich gentleman's +bones, and one to the grave without a stone, where nothing but a man +is buried--and there they grow, looking down on the generations of men +from mouldy roofs, looking up from between the less-trodden pavements, +looking out through iron cemetery railings. + +Listen to them when there is only a light breath stirring, and you will +hear them saying to each other, "Wait awhile." The words run along the +telegraph of those narrow green lines that border the roads leading +from the city, until they reach the slope of the hills, and the trees +repeat in low murmurs, "Wait awhile." By and by the flow of life in the +streets ebbs, and the old leafy inhabitants--the smaller tribes always +in front--saunter in, one by one, very careless seemingly, but very +tenacious, until they swarm so that the great stones gape from each +other with the crowding of their roots, and the feldspar begins to be +picked out of the granite to find them food. At last the trees take up +their solemn line of march, and never rest until they have camped in +the market-place. Wait long enough, and you will find an old doting +oak hugging in its yellow underground arms a huge worn block that +was the cornerstone of the State-house. Oh, so patient she is, this +imperturbable Nature! + + +_The Long Path_ + +It was in talking of life that the schoolmistress and I came nearest +together. I thought I knew something about that. The schoolmistress had +tried life, too. Once in a while one meets with a single soul greater +than all the living pageant that passes before it. This was one of +them. Fortune had left her, sorrow had baptised her. Yet as I looked +upon her tranquil face, gradually regaining a cheerfulness that was +often sprightly, as she became interested in the various matters we +talked about and places we visited, I saw that eye and lip and every +shifting lineament were made for love. + +I never addressed a word of love to the schoolmistress in the course of +these pleasant walks. It seemed as if we talked of everything but love +on that particular morning. There was, perhaps, a little more timidity +and hesitancy on my part than I have commonly shown among our people +at the boarding-house. In fact, I considered myself the master at the +breakfast-table; but somehow I could not command myself just then so +well as usual. The truth is, I had secured a passage to Liverpool in +the steamer which was to leave at noon--with the condition of being +released if circumstances occurred to detain me. The schoolmistress +knew nothing about this, of course, as yet. + +It was on the Common that we were walking. The boulevard of the +Common, you know, has various branches leading from it in different +directions. One of these runs across the whole length of the Common. We +called it the "long path," and were fond of it. + +I felt very weak indeed--though of a tolerably robust habit--as we came +opposite to the head of this path on that morning. I think I tried to +speak twice, without making myself distinctly audible. At last I got +out the question, "Will you take the long path with me?" "Certainly," +said the schoolmistress, "with much pleasure." "Think," I said, "before +you answer. If you take the long path with me now, I shall interpret it +that we are to part no more." + +The schoolmistress stepped back with a sudden movement, as if an arrow +had struck her. One of the long granite blocks used as seats was hard +by--the one you may still see close by the gingko-tree. "Pray sit +down," I said. + +"No, no," she answered softly; "I will walk the _long path_ with you!" + +The old gentleman who sits opposite met us walking, arm-in-arm, +about the middle of the long path, and said very charmingly to us, +"Good-morning, my dears!" + + + + +LA BRUYERE + +Characters + + Jean de la Bruyere was born in Paris, in August, 1645. He studied + law and became a barrister, but at the age of twenty-eight gave + up that profession, which did not agree with his tendencies + to meditation and his scrupulous mind. In 1673, he bought the + office of Treasurer of the Finances, and led an independent and + studious life. In 1684, he became a tutor to the Duc de Bourbon, + grandson of the great Conde, and continued to reside in the Conde + household until his death in 1696. In the "Caracteres," which + first appeared in 1688, La Bruyere has recorded his impressions + of men. In 1687 the manuscript was handed to Michallet, a + publisher in whose shop La Bruyere spent many hours every week. + "Will you print this?" asked the author. "I don't know whether + it will be to your advantage; but should it prove a success, + the money will be for my dear friend, your little daughter." + The sale of the book produced over $40,000. When La Bruyere was + elected a member of the French Academy, his enemies declared + that the "Characters" consisted of satirical portraits of + leading personalities, and "keys" to the portraits were widely + circulated. The pen sketches, however, are not only applicable to + that period, but to every age. + + +_I.--On Men and Books_ + +All has been said, and one comes too late after the seven thousand +years during which men have existed--and thought. All that one can do +is to think and speak rightly, without attempting to force one's tastes +and feelings upon others. + +Mediocrity in poetry, music, painting, and oratory is unbearable. + +There is in art a certain degree of perfection, as there is in Nature +an ideal point of matureness. To go beyond, or to remain below that +degree is faulty. + +The ability of a writer consists mainly in giving good definitions and +apt descriptions. The superiority of Moses, Homer, Plato, Virgil, +and Horace resides in the beauty of their expressions and images. One +has to express the truth to write in a natural, powerful, and refined +manner. + +It has taken centuries for men to return to the ideal of the ancients +and to all that is simple and natural. + +We feed on the classics and the able, modern authors. Then, when we +become authors ourselves, we ill-use our masters, like those children +who, strengthened by the milk they have suckled, beat their nurses. + +Read your works to those who are able to criticise and appreciate them. +A good and careful writer often finds that the expression he had so +long looked for was most simple and natural, and one which ought to +have occurred to him at once and without effort. + +The pleasure there is in criticising takes from us the joy of being +moved by that which is really beautiful. + +Arsene, from the top of his mind, looks down upon humanity; and, owing +to the distance from which he sees men, is almost frightened at their +smallness. He is so filled with his own sublime thoughts that he hardly +finds time to deliver a few precious oracles. + +Theocrine knows things which are rather useless; his ideas are always +strange, his memory always at work. He is a supercilious dreamer, and +always seems to laugh at those whom he considers as his inferiors. I +read my book to him; he listens. Afterwards, he speaks to me about his +own book. What does he think of mine? I told you so before: he speaks +to me of his own work! + +What an amazing difference there is between a beautiful book and a +perfect book! + +When a book elevates your mind, and inspires you with noble thoughts, +you require nothing else to judge it; it is a good and masterly work. + +The fools do not understand what they read. The mediocre think they +understand thoroughly. Great minds do not always understand every page +of a book; they think obscure that which is obscure, and clear that +which is clear. The pedantic find obscure that which is not, and refuse +to understand that which is perfectly clear. + +Moliere would have been a perfect writer had he only avoided jargon and +barbarisms, and written more purely. + +Ronsard had in him enough good and bad to form great disciples in prose +and verse. + +Corneille, at his best, is original and inimitable, but he is uneven. +He had a sublime mind, and has written a few verses which are among the +best ever written. + +Racine is more human. He has imitated the Greek classics, and in his +tragedies there is simplicity, clearness, and pathos. + +Corneille paints men as they ought to be; Racine paints them as they +are. Corneille is more moral; Racine is more natural. The former, it +seems, owes much to Sophocles; the latter, to Euripides. + +How is it that people at the theatre laugh so freely, and yet are +ashamed to weep? Is it less natural to be moved by all that is worthy +of pity than to burst out laughing at all that is ridiculous? Is it +that we consider it weak to cry, especially when the cause of our +emotion is an artificial one? But the cause of our laughter at the +theatre is also artificial. Some persons think it is as childish to +laugh excessively as to sob. + +Not only should plays not be immoral; they should be elevating. + +Logic is the art of convincing oneself of some truth. Eloquence is a +gift of the soul which makes one capable of conquering the hearts and +minds of the listeners and of making them believe anything one pleases. + +He who pays attention only to the taste of his own century thinks more +of himself than of his writings. One should always aim at perfection. +If our contemporaries fail to do us justice, posterity may do so. + +Horace and Boileau have said all this before. I take your word for it; +but may I not, after them, "think a true thought," which others will +think after me? + +There are more tools than workers, and among the latter, more bad than +good ones. + +There is, in this world, no task more painful than that of making a +name for oneself; we die before having even sketched our work. It +takes, in France, much firmness of purpose and much broadmindedness +to be indifferent to public functions and offices, and to consent to +remain at home and do nothing. + +Hardly anyone has enough merit to assume that part in a dignified +manner, or enough brains to fill the gap of time without what is +generally called business. + +All that is required is a better name for idleness; and that +meditation, conversation, reading, and repose should be called work. + +You tell me that there is gold sparkling on Philemon's clothes. So +there is on the clothes at the draper's. He is covered with the most +gorgeous fabrics. I can see those fabrics in the shops. But the +embroidery and ornaments on Philemon's clothes further increase their +magnificence. If so, I praise the embroiderer's workmanship. If someone +asks him the time, he takes from his pocket a jewelled watch; the hilt +of his sword is made of onyx; he displays a dazzling diamond on his +finger and wears all the curious and pretty trifles of fashion and +vanity. You arouse my interest at last. I ought to see those precious +things. Send me the clothes and jewels of Philemon; I don't require to +see _him_. + +It is difficult to tell the hero from the great man at war. Both have +military virtues. However, the former is generally young, enterprising, +gifted, self-controlled even in danger, and courageous; the latter has +much judgment, foresees events, and is endowed with much ability and +experience. Perhaps one might say that Alexander was only a hero and +that Caesar was a great man. + +Menippe is a bird adorned with feathers which are not his own. He +has nothing to say; he has no feelings, no thoughts. He repeats what +others have said, and uses their ideas so instinctively that he +deceives himself, and is his first victim. He often believes that he +is expressing his own thoughts, while he is only an echo of someone +whom he has just left. He believes childishly that the amount of wit he +possesses is all that man ever possessed. He therefore looks like a man +who has nothing to desire. + + +_II.--On Women and Wealth_ + +From the age of thirteen to the age of twenty-one, a girl wishes she +were beautiful; afterwards she wishes she were a man. + +An unfaithful woman is a woman who has ceased to love. + +A light-hearted woman is a woman who already loves another. + +A fickle woman is a woman who does not know whether she loves or not, +and who does not know what or whom she loves. + +An indifferent woman is a woman who loves nothing. + +There is a false modesty which is vanity; a false glory which is +light-mindedness; a false greatness which is smallness; a false virtue +which is hypocrisy; a false wisdom which is prudishness. + +Why make men responsible for the fact that women are ignorant? Have +any laws or decrees been issued forbidding them to open their eyes, to +read, to remember what they have read, and to show that they understood +it in their conversations and their works? Have they not themselves +decided to know little or nothing, because of their physical weakness, +or the sluggishness of their minds; because of the time their beauty +requires; because of their light-mindedness which prevents them from +studying; because they have only talent and genius for needlework or +house-managing; or because they instinctively dislike all that is +earnest and demands some effort? + +Women go to extremes. They are better or worse than men. + +Women go farther than men in love; but men make better friends. + +It is because of men that women dislike one another. + +It is nothing for a woman to say what she does not mean; it is easier +still for a man to say all what he thinks. + +Time strengthens the ties of friendship and loosens those of love. + +There is less distance between hatred and love than between dislike and +love. + +One can no more decide to love for ever than decide never to love at +all. + +One comes across men who irritate one by their ridiculous expressions, +the strangeness and unfitness of the words they use. Their weird jargon +becomes to them a natural language. They are delighted with themselves +and their wit. True, they have some wit, but one pities them for having +so little of it; and, what is more, one suffers from it. + +Arrias has read and seen everything, and he wants people to know it. +He is a universal man; he prefers to lie rather than keep silent or +appear ignorant about something. The subject of the conversation is the +court of a certain northern country. He at once starts talking, and +speaks of it as if he had been born in that country; he gives details +on the manners and customs, the women and the laws: he tells anecdotes +and laughs loudly at his own wit. Someone ventures to contradict him +and proves to him that he is not accurate in his statements. Arrias +turns to the interrupter: "I am telling nothing that is not exact," he +says. "I heard all those details from Sethon, ambassador of France to +that court. Sethon returned recently; I know him well, and had a long +conversation with him on this matter." Arrias was resuming his story +with more confidence than ever, when one of the guests said to him: "I +am Sethon, and have just returned from my mission." + +Cleante is a most honest man. His wife is the most reasonable person +in the world. Both make everybody happy wherever they go, and it were +impossible to find a more delightful and refined couple. Yet they +separate to-morrow! + +At thirty you think about making your fortune; at fifty you have not +made it; when you are old, you start building, and you die while the +painters are still at work. + +Numberless persons ruin themselves by gambling, and tell you coolly +they cannot live without gambling. What nonsense! Would it be allowed +to say that one cannot live without stealing, murdering, or leading a +riotous existence? + +Giton has a fresh complexion, and an aggressive expression. He is +broad-shouldered and corpulent. He speaks with confidence. He blows his +nose noisily, spits to a great distance, and sneezes loudly. He sleeps +a great deal, and snores whenever he pleases. When he takes a walk with +his equals he occupies the centre; when he stops, they stop; when he +advances again, they do the same. No one ever interrupts him. He is +jovial, impatient, haughty, irritable, independent. He believes himself +witty and gifted. He is rich. + +Phedon has sunken eyes. He is thin, and his cheeks are hollow. He +sleeps very little. He is a dreamer, and, although witty, looks stupid. +He forgets to say what he knows, and when he does speak, speaks badly. +He shares the opinion of others; he runs, he flies to oblige anyone; he +is kind and flattering. He is superstitious, scrupulous, and bashful. +He walks stealthily, speaks in a low voice, and takes no room. He can +glide through the densest crowd without effort. He coughs, and blows +his nose inside his hat, and waits to sneeze until he is alone. He is +poor. + + +_III.--On Men and Manners_ + +Paris is divided into a number of small societies which are like so +many republics. They have their own customs, laws, language, and even +their own jokes. + +One grows up, in towns, in a gross ignorance of all that concerns the +country. City-bred men are unable to tell hemp from flax, and wheat +from rye. We are satisfied as long as we can feed and dress. + +When we speak well of a man at court, we invariably do so for two +reasons: firstly, in order that he may hear that we spoke well of him; +secondly, in order that he may speak well of us in his turn. + +To be successful and to secure high offices there are two ways: the +high-road, on which most people pass; and the cross-road, which is the +shorter. + +The youth of a prince is the origin of many fortunes. + +Court is where joys are evident, but artificial; where sorrows are +concealed, but real. + +A slave has one master; an ambitious man has as many as there are +persons who may be useful to him in his career. + +With five or six art terms, people give themselves out as experts in +music, painting, and architecture. + +The high opinions people have of the great and mighty is so blind, and +their interest in their gestures, features, and manners so general, +that if the mighty were only good, the devotion of the people to them +would amount to worship. + +Lucile prefers to waste his life as the protege of a few aristocrats +than to live on familiar terms with his peers. + +It is advisable to say nothing of the mighty. If you speak well of +them, it is flattery. It is dangerous to speak ill of them during their +lifetime, and it is cowardly to do so after they are dead. + +Life is short and annoying. We spend life wishing. + +When life is wretched, it is hard to bear; when it is happy, it is +dreadful to lose it. The one alternative is as bad as the other. + +Death occurs only once, but makes itself felt at every moment of our +life. It is more painful to fear it than to suffer it. + +There are but three events for man: birth, life, and death. He does not +realise his birth, he suffers when he dies, and he forgets to live. + +We seek our happiness outside ourselves. We seek it in the opinions of +men whom we know are flatterers, and who lack sincerity. What folly! +Most men spend half their lives making the other half miserable. + +It is easier for many men to acquire one thousand virtues than to get +rid of one defect. + +It is as difficult to find a conceited man who believes himself really +happy as to discover a modest man who thinks himself too unhappy. + +The birch is necessary to children. Grown-up men need a crown, a +sceptre, velvet caps and fur-lined robes. Reason and justice devoid of +ornaments would not be imposing or convincing. Man, who is a mind, is +led by his eyes and his ears! + + +_IV.--On Customs and Religion_ + +Fashion in matters of food, health, taste and conscience is utterly +foolish. Game is at present out of fashion, and condemned as a +food. It is to-day a sin against fashion to be cured of the ague by +blood-letting. + +The conceited man thinks every day of the way in which he will be able +to attract attention on the following day. The philosopher leaves the +matter of his clothes to his tailor. It is just as childish to avoid +fashion as to follow its decrees too closely. + +Fashion exists in the domain of religion. + +There have been young ladies who were virtuous, healthy and pious, who +wished to enter a convent, but who were not rich enough to take in a +wealthy abbey the vows of poverty. + +How many men one sees who are strong and righteous, who would never +listen to the entreaties of their friends, but who are easily +influenced and corrupted by women. + +I would like to hear a sober, moderate, chaste, righteous man declare +that there is no God. At least he would be speaking in a disinterested +manner. But there is no such man to be found. + +The fact that I am unable to prove that God does not exist establishes +for me the fact that God does exist. + +Atheism does not exist. If there were real atheists, it would merely +prove that there are monsters in this world. + +Forty years ago I didn't exist, and it was not within my power to +be born. It does not depend upon me who now exist to be no more. +Consequently, I began being and am going on being, thanks to something +which is beyond me, which will last after me, which is mightier than I +am. If that something is not God, pray tell me what it is. + +Everything is great and worthy of admiration in Nature. + +O you vain and conceited man, make one of these worms which you +despise! You loathe toads; make a toad if you can! + +Kings, monarchs, potentates, sacred majesties, have I given you all +your supreme names? We, mere men, require some rain for our crops or +even some dew; make some dew, send to the earth a drop of water! + +A certain inequality in the destinies of men, which maintains order and +obedience, is the work of God. It suggests a divine law. + +If the reader does not care for these "characters," it will surprise +me; if he does care for them, it will also surprise me. + + + + +WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR + +Imaginary Conversations + + Walter Savage Landor, writer, scholar, poet, and, it might + almost be said, quarreller, said of his own fame, "I shall dine + late, but the dining-room will be well lighted, the guests few + and select." A powerful, turbulent spirit, he attracted great + men. Emerson, Browning, Dickens, and Swinburne travelled to sit + at his feet, and he knew Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth, Lamb, and + Southey. Born at Warwick, on January 30, 1775, he was dismissed + from Rugby School at the age of fifteen, and from Oxford at the + age of nineteen; was estranged from his father; several times + left the wife whom he had married for her golden hair, and spent + the last years of his life, lonely but lionised, at Florence. To + the last--which came on September 17, 1864--he wrote both prose + and verse. Landor appears, to the average appreciator of English + literature, an interesting personality rather than a great + writer, though his epic, "Gebir" (1798), and his tragedy, "Count + Julian" (1812), like some of his minor verse, contain passages + of great beauty. But it was in the "Imaginary Conversations," + written between 1821 and 1829, and first sampled by the public + in review form in 1823, that he endowed the English language + with his most permanent achievement. Nearly 150 of these + "Conversations" were written in all, and we epitomise here five + of the best-known. + + +_I.--Peter the Great and Alexis_ + +PETER: And so, after flying from thy father's house, thou hast returned +again from Vienna. After this affront in the face of Europe, thou +darest to appear before me? + +ALEXIS: My emperor and father! I am brought before your majesty not at +my own desire. + +PETER: I believe it well. What hope hast thou, rebel, in thy flight to +Vienna? + +ALEXIS: The hope of peace and privacy; the hope of security, and, above +all things, of never more offending you. + +PETER: Didst thou take money? + +ALEXIS: A few gold pieces. Hitherto your liberality, my father, hath +supplied my wants of every kind. + +PETER: Not of wisdom, not of duty, not of spirit, not of courage, not +of ambition. I have educated thee among my guards and horses, among +my drums and trumpets, among my flags and masts. I have rolled cannon +balls before thee over iron plates; I have shown thee bright new arms, +bayonets, and sabres. I have myself led thee forth to the window when +fellows were hanged and shot; and I have made thee, in spite of thee, +look steadfastly upon them, incorrigible coward! Thy intention, I know, +is to subvert the institutions it has been the labour of my lifetime to +establish. Thou hast never rejoiced at my victories. + +ALEXIS: I have rejoiced at your happiness and your safety. + +PETER: Liar! Coward! Traitor! When the Polanders and the Swedes fell +before me, didst thou congratulate me? Didst thou praise the Lord of +Hosts? Wert thou not silent and civil and low-spirited? + +ALEXIS: I lamented the irretrievable loss of human life, I lamented +that the bravest and noblest were swept away the first, that order +was succeeded by confusion, and that your majesty was destroying the +glorious plans you alone were capable of devising. + +PETER: Of what plans art thou speaking? + +ALEXIS: Of civilising the Muscovites. The Polanders in parts were +civilised; the Swedes more than any other nation. + +PETER: Civilised, forsooth? Why the robes of the metropolitan, him at +Upsal, are not worth three ducats. But I am wasting my words. Thine are +tenets that strike at the root of politeness and sound government. + +ALEXIS: When I hear the God of Mercy invoked to massacres, and thanked +for furthering what He reprobates and condemns--I look back in vain on +any barbarous people for worse barbarism. + +PETER: Malignant atheist! Am I Czar of Muscovy, and hear discourse on +reason and religion--from my own son, too? No, by the Holy Trinity! +thou art no son of mine. Unnatural brute, I have no more to do with +thee. Ho there! Chancellor! What! Come at last! Wert napping, or +counting thy ducats? + +CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's will, and pleasure! + +PETER: Is the senate assembled? + +CHANCELLOR: Every member, sire. + +PETER: Conduct this youth with thee, and let them judge him; thou +understandest? + +CHANCELLOR: Your majesty's commands are the breath of our nostrils. + +PETER: If these rascals are amiss, I will try my new cargo of Livonian +hemp upon 'em. + +CHANCELLOR (_returning_): Sire! Sire! + +PETER: Speak, fellow! Surely they have not condemned him to death +without giving themselves time to read the accusation, that thou comest +back so quickly. + +CHANCELLOR: No, sire! Nor has either been done. + +PETER: Then thy head quits thy shoulders. + +CHANCELLOR: O sire! he fell. + +PETER: Tie him up to thy chair, then. Cowardly beast! What made him +fall? + +CHANCELLOR: The hand of death. + +PETER: Prythee speak plainlier. + +CHANCELLOR: He said calmly, but not without sighing twice or thrice, +"Lead me to the scaffold; I am weary of life. My father says, too +truly, I am not courageous, but the death that leads me to my God shall +never terrify me." When he heard your majesty's name accusing him of +treason and attempts at parricide, he fell speechless. We raised him +up: he was dead! + +PETER: Inconsiderate and barbarous varlet as thou art, dost thou recite +this ill accident to a father--and to one who has not dined? Bring me a +glass of brandy. Away and bring it: scamper! Hark ye! bring the bottle +with it: and--hark ye! a rasher of bacon on thy life! and some pickled +sturgeon, and some krout and caviar. + + +_II.--Joseph Scaliger and Montaigne_ + +MONTAIGNE: What could have brought you, M. de l'Escale, other than a +good heart? You rise early, I see; you must have risen with the sun, to +be here at this hour. I have capital white wine, and the best cheese in +Auvergne. Pierre, thou hast done well; set it upon the table, and tell +Master Matthew to split a couple of chickens and broil them. + +SCALIGER: This, I perceive, is the ante-chamber to your library; here +are your every-day books. + +MONTAIGNE: Faith! I have no other. These are plenty, methinks. + +SCALIGER: You have great resources within yourself, and therefore can +do with fewer. + +MONTAIGNE: Why, how many now do you think here may be? + +SCALIGER: I did not believe at first that there could be above +fourscore. + +MONTAIGNE: Well! are fourscore few? Are we talking of peas and beans? + +SCALIGER: I and my father (put together) have written well-nigh as many. + +MONTAIGNE: Ah! to write them is quite another thing. How do you like my +wine? If you prefer your own country wine, only say it. I have several +bottles in my cellar. I do not know, M. de l'Escale, whether you are +particular in these matters? + +SCALIGER: I know three things--wine, poetry, and the world. + +MONTAIGNE: You know one too many, then. I hardly know whether I know +anything about poetry; for I like Clem Marot better than Ronsard. + +SCALIGER: It pleases me greatly that you like Marot. His version of +the Psalms is lately set to music, and added to the New Testament of +Geneva. + +MONTAIGNE: It is putting a slice of honeycomb into a barrel of vinegar, +which will never grow the sweeter for it. + +SCALIGER: Surely, you do not think in this fashion of the New Testament? + +MONTAIGNE: Who supposes it? Whatever is mild and kindly is there. But +Jack Calvin has thrown bird-lime and vitriol upon it, and whoever but +touches the cover dirties his fingers or burns them. + +SCALIGER: Calvin is a very great man. + +MONTAIGNE: I do not like your great men who beckon me to them, call me +their begotten, their dear child, and their entrails; and, if I happen +to say on any occasion, "I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little from +you," stamp and cry, "The devil you do!" and whistle to the executioner. + +SCALIGER: John Calvin is a grave man, orderly, and reasonable. + +MONTAIGNE: In my opinion he has not the order nor the reason of my +cook. Mat never twitched God by the sleeve and swore He should not have +his own way. + +SCALIGER: M. de Montaigne, have you ever studied the doctrine of +predestination? + +MONTAIGNE: I should not understand it if I had; and I would not break +through an old fence merely to get into a cavern. Would it make me +honester or happier, or, in other things, wiser? + +SCALIGER: I do not know whether it would materially. + +MONTAIGNE: I should be an egregious fool, then, to care about it. Come, +walk about with me; after a ride you can do nothing better to take off +fatigue. I can show you nothing but my house and my dairy. + +SCALIGER: Permit me to look a little at those banners. They remind me +of my own family, we being descended from the great Cane della Scala, +Prince of Verona, and from the House of Hapsburg, as you must have +heard from my father. + +MONTAIGNE: What signifies it to the world whether the great Cane was +tied to his grandmother or not? As for the House of Hapsburg, if you +could put together as many such houses as would make up a city larger +than Cairo, they would not be worth his study, or a sheet of paper on +the table of it. + + +_III.--Bossuet and the Duchesse de Fontanges_ + +BOSSUET: Mademoiselle, it is the king's desire that I compliment you on +the elevation you have attained. + +FONTANGES: O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His majesty +is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was, +"Angelique! do not forget to compliment monseigneur the bishop on +the dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the dauphiness. +I desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank +sufficient to confess you, now you are duchess." You are so agreeable a +man, monseigneur, I will confess to you, directly. + +BOSSUET: Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young +lady? + +FONTANGES: What is that? + +BOSSUET: Do you hate sin? + +FONTANGES: Very much. + +BOSSUET: Do you hate the world? + +FONTANGES: A good deal of it; all Picardy, for example, and all +Sologne; nothing is uglier--and, oh my life! what frightful men and +women! + +BOSSUET: I would say in plain language, do you hate the flesh and the +devil? + +FONTANGES: Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the +while, I will tell him so--"I hate you, beast!" There now. As for +flesh, I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor +hunt, nor do anything that I know of. + +BOSSUET: Mademoiselle Marie Angelique de Scoraille de Rousille, +Duchesse de Fontanges! Do you hate titles, and dignities, and yourself? + +FONTANGES: Myself! Does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first? +Hatred is the worst thing in the world; it makes one so very ugly. + +BOSSUET: We must detest our bodies if we would save our souls. + +FONTANGES: That is hard. How can I do it? I see nothing so detestable +in mine. Do you? As God hath not hated me, why should I? As for titles +and dignities, I am glad to be a duchess. Would not you rather be a +duchess than a waiting-maid if the king gave you your choice? + +BOSSUET: Pardon me, mademoiselle. I am confounded at the levity of your +question. If you really have anything to confess, and desire that I +should have the honour of absolving you, it would be better to proceed. + +FONTANGES: You must first direct me, monseigneur. I have nothing +particular. What was it that dropped on the floor as you were speaking? + +BOSSUET: Leave it there! + +FONTANGES: Your ring fell from your hand, my lord bishop! How quick you +are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up? + +BOSSUET: Madame is too condescending. My hand is shrivelled; the ring +has ceased to fit it. A pebble has moved you more than my words. + +FONTANGES: It pleases me vastly. I admire rubies. I will ask the king +for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the +chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall +ask him. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess +to you with it upon my finger. But, first, I must be cautious and +particular to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should +say. + + +_IV.--The Empress Catharine and Princess Dashkof_ + +CATHARINE: Into his heart! Into his heart! If he escapes, we perish! +Do you think, Dashkof, they can hear me through the double door? Yes, +hark! they heard me. They have done it! What bubbling and gurgling! +He groaned but once. Listen! His blood is busier now than it ever was +before. I should not have thought it could have splashed so loud upon +the floor. Put you ear against the lock. + +DASHKOF: I hear nothing. + +CATHARINE: My ears are quicker than yours, and know these notes better. +Let me come. There! There again! The drops are now like lead. How now? +Which of these fools has brought his dog with him? What trampling and +lapping! The creature will carry the marks all about the palace with +his feet! You turn pale, and tremble. You should have supported me, in +case I had required it. + +DASHKOF: I thought only of the tyrant. Neither in life nor in death +could any one of these miscreants make me tremble. But the husband +slain by his wife! What will Russia--what will Europe say? + +CATHARINE: Russia has no more voice than a whale. She may toss about in +her turbulence, but my artillery (for now, indeed, I can safely call it +mine) shall stun and quiet her. + +DASHKOF: I fear for your renown. + +CATHARINE: Europe shall be informed of my reasons, if she should ever +find out that I countenanced the conspiracy. She shall be persuaded +that her repose made the step necessary; that my own life was in +danger; that I fell upon my knees to soften the conspirators; that only +when I had fainted, the horrible deed was done. + +DASHKOF: Europe may be more easily subjugated than duped. + +CATHARINE: She shall be both, God willing! Is the rouge off my face? + +DASHKOF: It is rather in streaks and mottles, excepting just under the +eyes, where it sits as it should do. + +CATHARINE: I am heated and thirsty. I cannot imagine how. I think +we have not yet taken our coffee. I could eat only a slice of melon +at breakfast--my duty urged me _then_--and dinner is yet to come. +Remember, I am to faint at the midst of it, when the intelligence comes +in, or, rather, when, in despite of every effort to conceal it from +me, the awful truth has flashed upon my mind. Remember, too, you are +to catch me, and to cry for help, and to tear those fine flaxen hairs +which we laid up together on the toilet; and we are both to be as +inconsolable as we can be for the life of us. + +Come, sing. I know not how to fill up the interval. Two long hours yet! +How stupid and tiresome! I wish all things of the sort could be done +and be over in a day. They are mightily disagreeable when by nature one +is not cruel. People little know my character. I have the tenderest +heart upon earth. Ivan must follow next; he is heir to the throne. +But not now. Another time. Two such scenes together, and without some +interlude, would perplex people. + +I thought we spoke of singing. Do not make me wait. Cannot you sing as +usual, without smoothing your dove's throat with your handkerchief, and +taking off your necklace? Sing, sing! I am quite impatient! + + +_V.--Bacon and Richard Hooker_ + +BACON: Hearing much of your worthiness and wisdom, Master Richard +Hooker, I have besought your comfort and consolation in this my too +heavy affliction, for we often do stand in need of hearing what we +know full well, and our own balsams must be poured into our breasts by +another's hand. Withdrawn, as you live, from court and courtly men, +and having ears occupied by better reports than such as are flying +about me, yet haply so hard a case as mine, befalling a man heretofore +not averse from the studies in which you take delight, may have touched +you with some concern. + +HOOKER: I do think, my lord of Verulam, that the day which in his +wisdom he appointed for your trial was the very day on which the +king's majesty gave unto your ward and custody the great seal of his +English realm. And--let me utter it without offence--your features and +stature were from that day forward no longer what they were before. +Such an effect do rank and power and office produce even on prudent and +religious men. You, my lord, as befits you, are smitten and contrite; +but I know that there is always a balm which lies uppermost in these +afflictions. + +BACON: Master Richard, it is surely no small matter to lose the respect +of those who looked up to us for countenance; and the favour of a right +learned king, and, O Master Hooker, such a power of money! But money +is mere dross. I should always hold it so, if it possessed not two +qualities--that of making men treat us reverently, and that of enabling +us to help the needy. + +HOOKER: The respect, I think, of those who respect us for what a fool +can give and a rogue can take away, may easily be dispensed with; but +it is indeed a high prerogative to help the needy, and when it pleases +the Almighty to deprive us of it, he hath removed a most fearful +responsibility. + +BACON: Methinks it beginneth to rain, Master Richard. What if we +comfort our bodies with a small cup of wine, against the ill-temper of +the air. Pledge me; hither comes our wine.(_To the servant_) Dolt! Is +not this the beverage I reserve for myself? + +Bear with me, good Master Hooker, but verily I have little of this +wine, and I keep it as a medicine for my many and growing infirmities. +You are healthy at present: God, in His infinite mercy, long maintain +you so! Weaker drink is more wholesome for you. But this Malmsey, this +Malmsey, flies from centre to circumference, and makes youthful blood +boil. + +HOOKER: Of a truth, my knowledge in such matters is but sparse. My +lord of Canterbury once ordered part of a goblet, containing some +strong Spanish wine, to be taken to me from his table when I dined by +sufferance with his chaplains, and, although a most discreet, prudent +man, as befitteth his high station, was not so chary of my health as +your lordship. Wine is little to be trifled with; physic less. The +Cretans, the brewers of this Malmsey, have many aromatic and powerful +herbs among them. On their mountains, and notably on Ida, grows that +dittany which works such marvels, and which perhaps may give activity +to this hot medicinal drink of theirs. I would not touch it knowingly; +an unregarded leaf dropped into it above the ordinary might add such +puissance to the concoction as almost to break the buckles in my shoes. + +BACON: When I read of such things I doubt them: but if I could procure +a plant of dittany I would persuade my apothecary and my gamekeeper to +make experiments. + +HOOKER: I dare not distrust what grave writers have declared in matters +beyond my knowledge. + +BACON: Good Master Hooker, I have read many of your reasonings, and +they are admirably well sustained. Yet forgive me, in God's name my +worthy master, if you descried in me some expression of wonder at your +simplicity. You would define to a hair's breadth the qualities, states, +and dependencies of principalities, dominations, and powers; you would +be unerring about the apostles and the churches, and 'tis marvellous +how you wander about a pot-herb! + +HOOKER: I know my poor, weak intellects, most noble lord, and how +scantily they have profited by my hard painstaking. Wisdom consisteth +not in knowing many things, nor even in knowing them thoroughly, but +in choosing and in following what conduces the most certainly to our +lasting happiness and true glory. + +BACON: I have observed among the well-informed and the ill-informed +nearly the same quantity of infirmities and follies; those who are +rather the wiser keep them separate, and those who are wisest of all +keep them better out of sight. I have persuaded men, and shall persuade +them for ages, that I possess a wide range of thought unexplored by +others, and first thrown open by me, with many fair enclosures of +choice and abstruse knowledge. One subject, however, hath almost +escaped me, and surely one worth the trouble. + +HOOKER: Pray, my lord, if I am guilty of no indiscretion, what may it +be? + +BACON: Francis Bacon. + + + + +LA ROCHEFOUCAULD + +Reflections and Moral Maxims + + Rochefoucauld's "Reflections, or Sentences and Moral Maxims," + were published in 1665. In them his philosophy of life is + expressed with a perfection of form which still remains + unrivalled and unequalled. The original work contains only 314 + short sentences; the last edition he published contains 541; but + when one examines the exquisite workmanship of his style, one + does not wonder that it represents the labour of twenty years. La + Rochefoucauld (see Vol. X, p. 203) is one of the greatest masters + of French prose, as well as one of the great masters of cynicism. + He has exerted a deep influence both on English and French + literature, and Swift and Byron were among his disciples. + + +_I.--Of Love and of Women_ + +To judge love by most of its effects, it seems more like hatred than +kindness. + +In love we often doubt of what we most believe. + +As long as we love, we forgive. + +Love is like fire, it cannot be without continual motion; as soon as it +ceases to hope or fear it ceases to exist. + +Many persons would never have been in love had they never heard talk of +it. + +Agreeable and pleasant as love is, it pleases more by the manners in +which it shows itself than by itself alone. + +We pass on from love to ambition; we seldom return from ambition to +love. + +Those who have had a great love affair find themselves all their life +happy and unhappy at being cured of it. + +In love the one who is first cured is best cured. + +The reason why lovers are never weary of talking of each other is that +they are always talking of themselves. + +Constancy in love is a perpetual inconstancy which makes our heart +attach itself in succession to all the qualities of our beloved, and +prefer, now this trait and now that; so that this constancy is only a +kind of inconstancy fixed and enclosed in a single object. + +If there is a love pure and exempt from all mixture with our other +passions, it is that which is hidden in the depth of our heart and +unknown to ourselves. + +The pleasure of love consists in loving, and our own passion gives us +more happiness than the feelings which our beloved has for us. + +The grace of novelty is to love like the fine bloom on fruit; it gives +it a lustre which is easily effaced and never recovered. + +We are nearer loving those who hate us than those who love us more than +we desire. + +Women often fancy themselves to be in love when they are not. Their +natural passion for being beloved, their unwillingness to give a +denial, the excitement of mind produced by an affair of gallantry, all +these make them imagine they are in love when they are in fact only +coquetting. + +All women are flirts. Some are restrained by timidity and some by +reason. + +The greatest miracle of love is the reformation of a coquette. + +A coquette pretends to be jealous of her lover, in order to conceal her +envy of other women. + +Most women yield more from weakness than from passion, hence an +enterprising man usually succeeds with them better than an amiable man. + +It is harder for women to overcome their coquetry than their love. No +woman knows how much of a coquette she is. + +Women who are in love more readily forgive great indiscretions than +small infidelities. + +Some people are so full of themselves that even when they become lovers +they find a way of being occupied with their passion without being +interested in the person whom they love. + +It is useless to be young without being beautiful, or beautiful without +being young. + +In their first love affairs women love their lover; in all others they +love love. + +In the old age of love, as in the old age of life, we continue to live +to pain long after we have ceased to live to pleasure. + +There is no passion in which self-love reigns so powerfully as in love; +we are always more ready to sacrifice the repose of a person we love +than to lose our own. + +There is a certain kind of love which, as it grows excessive, leaves no +room for jealousy. + +Jealousy is born with love, but it does not always die with it. + +Jealousy is the greatest of all afflictions, and that which least +excites pity in the persons that cause it. + +In love and in friendship we are often happier by reason of the things +that we do not know than by those that we do. + +There are few women whose merit lasts longer than their beauty. + +The reason why most women are little touched by friendship is that +friendship is insipid to those who have felt what love is. + + +_II.--Friendship_ + +In the misfortunes of our best friends we always find something that +does not displease us. + +Rare as true love is, it is less rare than true friendship. + +What makes us so changing in our friendships is that it is difficult to +discern the qualities of the soul, and easy to recognize the qualities +of the mind. + +It is equally difficult to have a friendship for those whom we do not +esteem as for those we esteem more than ourselves. + +We love those who admire us, not those whom we admire. + +Most of the friendships of the world ill deserve the name of +friendship; still, a man may make occasional use of them, as in a +business where the profits are uncertain and it is usual to be cheated. + +It is more dishonourable to mistrust a friend than to be deceived by +him. + +We are fond of exaggerating the love our friends bear us, but it is +less from a feeling of gratitude than from a desire to advertise our +own merits. + +What usually hinders us from revealing the depths of our hearts to +our friends is not so much the distrust which we have of them as the +distrust that we have of ourselves. + +We confess our little defects merely to persuade our friends that we +have no great failings. + +The greatest effort of friendship is not to show our defects to a +friend, but to make him see his own. + +Sincerity is an opening of the heart. It is found in exceedingly few +people, and what passes for it is only a subtle dissimulation used to +attract confidence. + +We can love nothing except in relation to ourselves, and we merely +follow our own bent and pleasure when we prefer our friends to +ourselves; yet it is only by this preference that friendship can be +made true and perfect. + +It seems as if self-love is the dupe of kindness and that it is +forgotten while we are working for the benefit of other men. In this +case, however, our self-love is merely taking the safest road to arrive +at its ends; it is lending at usury under the pretext of giving, it is +aiming at winning all the world by subtle and delicate means. + +The first impulses of joy excited in us by the good fortune of our +friends proceed neither from our good nature nor from the friendship +we have for them; it is an effect of self-love that flatters us with +the hope either of being fortunate in our turn or of drawing some +advantage from their prosperity. + +What makes us so eager to form new acquaintances is not the mere +pleasure of change or a weariness of old friendships, so much as a +disgust at not being enough admired by those who know us too well, and +a hope of winning more admiration from persons who do not know much +about us. + + +_III.--Things of the Mind_ + +The mind is always the dupe of the heart. Those who are acquainted with +their own mind are not acquainted with their own heart. + +The mind is more indolent than the body. + +It is the mark of fine intellects to explain many things in a few +words; little minds have the gift of speaking much and saying nothing. + +We speak but little when vanity does not make us speak. + +A spirit of confidence helps on conversation more than brilliance of +mind does. + +True eloquence consists of saying all that is necessary, and nothing +more. + +A man may be witty and still be a fool; judgment is the source of +wisdom. + +A man does not please for very long when he has but one kind of wit. + +It is a mistake to imagine that wit and judgment are two distinct +things; judgment is only the perfection of wit, which pierces into the +recesses of things and there perceives what from the outside seems to +be imperceptible. + +A man of intelligence would often be at a loss were it not for the +company of fools. + +It is not so much fertility of mind that leads us to discover many +expedients in regard to a single matter, as a defect of intelligence, +that makes us stop at everything presented to our imagination, and +hinders us from discerning at once which is the best course. + +Some old men like to give good advice to console themselves for being +no longer in a state to give a bad example. + +No man of sound good sense strikes us as such unless he is of our way +of thinking. + +Stiffness of opinion comes from pettiness of mind; we do not easily +believe in anything that is beyond our range of vision. + +Good taste is based on judgment rather than on intelligence. + +It is more often through pride than through any want of enlightenment +that men set themselves stubbornly to oppose the most current opinions; +finding all the best places taken on the popular side, they do not want +those in the rear. + +In order to understand things well one must know the detail of them; +and as this is almost infinite, our knowledge is always superficial and +imperfect. + +It is never so difficult to talk well as when we are ashamed of our +silence. + +The excessive pleasure we feel in talking about ourselves ought to make +us apprehensive that we afford little to our listeners. + +Truth has not done so much good in the world as the false appearances +of it have done harm. + +Man's chief wisdom consists in being sensible of his follies. + + +_IV.--Human Life and Human Nature_ + +Youth is a continual intoxication; it is the fever of reason. + +The passions of youth are scarcely more opposed to salvation than the +lukewarmness of old persons. + +There is not enough material in a fool to make a good man out of him. + +We have more strength than will, and it is often to excuse ourselves to +ourselves that we imagine things are impossible. + +There are few things impossible in themselves; it is the application to +achieve them that we lack more than the means. + +It is a mistake to imagine that only the more violent passions, such as +ambition and love, can triumph over the rest. Idleness often masters +them all. It indeed influences all our designs and actions, and +insensibly destroys both our vices and our virtues. + +Idleness is of all our passions that which is most unknown to +ourselves. It is the most ardent and the most malign of all, though we +do not feel its working, and the harm which it does is hidden. If we +consider its power attentively, we shall see that in every struggle it +triumphs over our feelings, our interests, and our pleasures. To give a +true idea of this passion it is necessary to add that idleness is like +a beatitude of the soul which consoles it for all its losses and serves +in place of all its wealth. + +The gratitude of most men is only a secret desire to receive greater +favours. + +We like better to see those on whom we confer benefits than those from +whom we receive them. + +It is less dangerous to do harm to most men than to do them too much +good. + +If we had no defects ourselves we should not take so much pleasure in +observing the failings of others. + +One man may be more cunning than another man, but he cannot be more +cunning than all the world. + +Mankind has made a virtue of moderation in order to limit the ambition +of great men and to console mediocre people for their scanty fortune +and their scanty merit. + +We should often be ashamed of our finest actions if the world saw all +the motives that produced them. + +Our desire to speak of ourselves, and to reveal our defects in the +best light in which we can show them, constitutes a great part of our +sincerity. + +The shame that arises from undeserved praise often leads us to do +things which we should not otherwise have attempted. + +The labours of the body free us from the pains of the mind. It is this +that constitutes the happiness of the poor. + +It is more necessary to study men than to study books. + +The truly honest man is he who sets no value on himself. + +Censorious as the world is, it is oftener favourable to false merit +than unjust to true. + +It is not enough to possess great qualities; we must know how to use +them. + +He who lives without folly is not so wise as he fancies. + +Good manners are the least of all laws and the most strictly observed. + +Everybody complains of a lack of memory, nobody of a lack of judgment. + +The love of justice is nothing more than a fear of injustice. + +Passion often makes a fool of a man of sense, and sometimes it makes a +fool a man of sense. + +Nature seems to have hidden in the depth of our minds a skill and a +talent of which we are ignorant; only our passions are able to bring +them out and to give us sometimes surer and more complete views than we +could arrive at by thought and study. + +Our passions are the only orators with an unfailing power of +persuasion. They are an art of nature with infallible rules, and the +simplest man who is possessed by passion is far more persuasive than +the most eloquent speaker who is not moved by feeling. + +As we grow old we grow foolish as well as wise. + +Few people know how to grow old. + +Death and the sun are things one cannot look at steadily. + + +_V.--Virtues and Vices_ + +Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue. + +Our vices are commonly disguised virtues. + +Virtue would not go far if vanity did not go with her. + +Prosperity is a stronger test of virtue than misfortune is. + +Men blame vice and praise virtue only through self-interest. + +Great souls are not those which have less passions and more virtues +than common souls, but those which have larger ambitions. + +Of all our virtues one might say what an Italian poet has said of the +honesty of women, "that it is often nothing but an art of pretending to +be honest." + +Virtues are lost in self-interest, as rivers are in the sea. + +To the honour of virtue it must be acknowledged that the greatest +misfortunes befall men from their vices. + +When our vices leave us, we flatter ourselves that we have left them. + +Feebleness is more opposed to vice than virtue is. + +What makes the pangs of shame and jealousy so sharp is that our vanity +cannot help us to support them. + +What makes the vanity of other persons so intolerable is that it hurts +our own. + +We have not the courage to say in general that we have no defects, and +that our enemies have no good qualities; but in matters of detail we +are not very far from believing it. + +If we never flattered ourselves the flattery of others Would not injure +us. + +We sometimes think we dislike flattery; we only dislike the way in +which we are flattered. + +Flattery is a kind of bad money to which our vanity gives currency. + +Self-love, as it happens to be well or ill-conducted, constitutes +virtue and vice. + +We are so prepossessed in our own favour that we often mistake for +virtues those vices that bear some resemblance to them, and are +artfully disguised by self-love. + +Nothing is so capable of lessening our self-love as the observation +that we disapprove at one time what we approve at another. + +Self-love is the love of self, and of everything for the sake of self. +When fortune gives the means, self-love makes men idolise themselves +and tyrannise over others. It never rests or fixes itself anywhere +outside its home. If it settle on external things, it is only as the +bee does on flowers, to extract what may be serviceable. Nothing is so +impetuous as its desires, nothing so secret as its designs, nothing so +adroit as its conduct. We can neither fathom the depth, nor penetrate +the obscurity of its abyss. There, concealed from the most piercing +eye, it makes numberless turnings and windings; there is it often +invisible even to itself; there it conceives, breeds, and cherishes, +without being aware of it, an infinity of likings and hatreds; some +of which are so monstrous that, having given birth to them, self-love +either does not recognize them, or cannot bear to own them. From the +darkness which covers self-love spring the ridiculous notions which it +entertains of itself; thence its errors, ignorance, and silly mistakes; +thence it imagines that its feelings are dead when they are but asleep; +and thinks that it has lost all appetite when it is for the moment +sated. + +But the thick mist which hides it from itself does not hinder it from +seeing perfectly whatever is without; and thus it resembles the eye, +that sees all things except itself. In great concerns and important +affairs, where the violence of its desire excites its whole attention, +it sees, perceives, understands, invents, suspects, penetrates, and +divines all things; so that one is tempted to believe that each of its +passions has its peculiar magic. + +Its desires are inflamed by itself rather than by the beauty and merit +of the objects; its own taste heightens and embellishes them; itself +is the game it pursues, and its own inclination is what is followed +rather than the things which seem to be the objects of its inclination. +Composed of contrarieties, it is imperious and obedient, sincere and +hypocritical, merciful and cruel, timid and bold. Its desires tend, +according to the diverse moods that direct it, sometimes to glory, +sometimes to wealth, sometimes to pleasure. These are changed as age +and experience alter; and whether it has many inclinations or only one +is a matter of indifference, because it can split itself into many or +collect itself into one just as is convenient or agreeable. + +It is inconstant; and numberless are the changes, besides those which +happen from external causes, which proceed from its own nature. +Inconstant through levity, through love, through novelty, through +satiety, through disgust, through inconstancy itself. Capricious; and +sometimes labouring with eagerness and incredible pains to obtain +things that are in no way advantageous, nay, even hurtful, but which +are pursued merely as a passion. Whimsical, and often exerting intense +application in the most trifling employments; taking delight in the +most insipid things, and preserving all its haughtiness in the most +contemptible pursuits. Attendant on all ages and conditions; living +everywhere; living on everything; living on nothing. Easy in either +the enjoyment, or privation of things. Going over to those who are at +variance with it; even entering into their schemes; and, wonderful! +joining with them, it hates itself; conspires its own destruction; +labours to be undone; desires only to exist; and, that granted, +consents to be its own enemy. + +We are not therefore to be surprised if sometimes, uniting with the +most rigid austerity, it enters boldly into a combination against +itself; because what is lost in one respect is regained in another. +When we think it relinquishes pleasures, it only suspends or changes +them; and even when discomforted, and we seem to be rid of it, we +find it triumphant in its own defeat. Such is self-love!--of which +man's whole life is only a strong, a continued agitation. The sea +is a striking image of it, and in the flux and reflux of the waves, +self-love may find a lively expression of the turbulent succession of +its thoughts, and of its eternal agitation. + + + + +LEONARDO DA VINCI + +Treatise on Painting + + Leonardo Da Vinci was born in 1452 at Anchiano, near Vinci, + in Tuscany, the son of a Florentine notary. Trained in the + workshop of Andrea Verrocchio, he became one of the greatest + and most versatile artists of the Renaissance. Indeed, he must + be considered one of the master-minds of all times, for there + was scarcely a sphere of human knowledge in which he did not + excel and surpass his contemporaries. He was not only preeminent + as painter, sculptor, and architect, but was an accomplished + musician, poet, and improvisatore, an engineer--able to construct + canals, roads, fortifications, ships, and war-engines of every + description--an inventor of rare musical instruments, and a great + organiser of fetes and pageants. Few of his artistic creations + have come down to us; but his profound knowledge of art and + science, and the wide range of his intellect are fully revealed + in the scattered leaves of his notebooks, which are now preserved + in the British Museum, the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris, the + Ambrosiani in Milan, and other collections. The first edition of + the "Treatise on Painting" was a compilation from these original + notes, published at Paris in 1651. Leonardo died at Cloux on May + 2, 1519. + + +_From Da Vinci's Notebooks_ + +The eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the principal means +whereby our intelligence may most fully and splendidly comprehend the +infinite works of nature; and the ear comes next, by gaining importance +through hearing the things that have been perceived by the eye. If you +historians or poets, or mathematicians, had not seen things with your +eyes, badly would you describe them in your writings. If you, O poet, +call painting dumb poetry, the painter might say of the poet's writing +blind painting. Now consider, which taunt is more mordant--to be called +blind or dumb? + +If the poet is as free in invention as the painter, yet his fiction +is not as satisfying to mankind as is painting, for whereas poetry +endeavours with words to represent forms, actions, and scenes, the +painter's business is to imitate forms with the images of these very +forms. Take the case of a poet, describing the beauties of a woman +to her lover, and that of a painter depicting her; you will soon see +whither nature will attract the enamoured judge. And should not the +proof of things be the verdict of experience? + +If you say that poetry is more enduring, I may reply that the works +of a coppersmith are more enduring still, since time has preserved +them longer than your works or ours; yet they are less imaginative, +and painting, if done with enamels on copper, can be made far more +enduring. We, in our art, may be said to be grandsons unto God. If you +despise painting, which is the sole imitator of all the visible works +of nature, then you certainly despise a subtle invention which, with +philosophical and ingenious reflection, considers all the properties of +forms, airs, and scenes, trees, animals, grasses and flowers, which are +surrounded by light and shade. + +And this is a science and the true-born daughter of nature, since +painting is born of this self-same nature. But, in order to speak more +correctly, let us call it the grandchild of nature, because all visible +things are produced by nature, and from these same things is born +painting. Wherefore we may rightly call it the grandchild of nature, +related to God Himself. + + +_How Sculpture is Less Intellectual_ + +Being sculptor no less than painter, and practising both arts in the +same degree, it seems to me that I may without arrogance pronounce how +one of them is more intellectual, difficult, and perfect than the other. + +Firstly, sculpture is subject to a certain light--namely, from +above--and painting carries everywhere with it light and shade. Light +and shade are, therefore, the essentials in sculpture. In this respect +the sculptor is aided by the nature of the relief, which produces these +of its own accord; the painter introduces them by his art where nature +would reasonably place them. The sculptor cannot reproduce the varying +nature of the colours of objects; painting lacks nothing in this +respect. The sculptor's perspectives never seem true, but the painter's +lead the eye hundreds of miles into the work. Aerial perspective +is alien to their work. They can neither represent transparent nor +luminous bodies, neither reflected rays nor shiny surfaces like mirrors +and similar glittering bodies; no mist, no dull sky, nor countless +other things, which I refrain from mentioning to avoid getting +wearisome. It has the advantage that it offers greater resistance to +time, although enamels on copper fused in fire have equal power of +resistance. Thus painting surpasses sculpture even in durability. + +Were you to speak only of painting on panels, I should be content to +give the verdict against sculpture by saying: Whilst painting is more +beautiful, more imaginative, and more resourceful, sculpture is more +durable; and this is all that can be said for it. It reveals with +little effort what it is. Painting seems a miraculous thing, making +things intangible appear tangible, presenting flat objects in relief, +and distant near at hand. Indeed, painting is adorned with endless +possibilities that are not used by sculpture. + +Painters fight and compete with nature. + + +_Of the Ten Offices of the Eye_ + +Painting extends over all the ten offices of the eye--namely, darkness, +light, body and colour, figure and scenery, distance and nearness, +movement and repose--all of which offices will be woven through this +little work of mine. For I will remind the painter by what rule and in +what manner he shall use his art to imitate all these things, the work +of nature and the ornament of the world. + + +_Rule for Beginners in Painting_ + +We know clearly that sight is one of the swiftest actions in existence, +perceiving in one moment countless forms. Nevertheless, it cannot +comprehend more than one thing at a time. Suppose, for instance, you, +reader, were to cast a single glance upon this entire written page and +were to decide at once that it is full of different letters; but you +will not be able to recognize in this space of time either what letters +they are or what they purport to say. Therefore, you must take word by +word, verse by verse, in order to gain knowledge from these letters. +Again, if you want to reach the summit of a building, you must submit +to climbing step by step, else it would be impossible for you to reach +the top. And so I say to you, whom nature inclines to this art, if you +would have a true knowledge of the form of things, begin with their +details, and don't pass on to the second before the first is well fixed +in your memory, else you will waste your time. + +Perspective is the rein and rudder of painting. + +I say whatever is forced within a border is more difficult than what is +free. Shadows have in certain degrees their borders, and he who ignores +them cannot obtain roundness, which roundness is the essence and soul +of painting. Drawing is free, since, if you see countless faces, they +will all be different--the one has a long, the other a short nose. Thus +the painter may take this liberty, and where is liberty, is no rule. + + +_Precepts for Painting_ + +The painter should endeavour to be universal, because he is lacking +in dignity if he do one thing well and another thing badly, like so +many who only study the well-proportionate nude and not its variations, +because a man may be proportionate and yet be short and stout, or +long and thin. And he who does not bear in mind these variations will +get his figures stereotyped, so that they all seem to be brothers and +sisters, which deserves to be censured severely. + +Let the sketching of histories be swift and the articulation not too +perfect. Be satisfied with suggesting the position of the limbs, which +you may afterwards carry to completion at your leisure and as you +please. + +Methinks it is no small grace in a painter if he give a pleasing air +to his figures, a grace which, if it be not one's own by nature, may +be acquired by study, as follows. Try to take the best parts from many +beautiful faces, whose beauty is affirmed by public fame rather than +by your own judgment, for you may deceive yourself by taking faces +which resemble your own. For it would often seem that such similarities +please us; and if you were ugly you would not select beautiful faces, +and you would make ugly ones, like many painters whose types often +resemble their master. Therefore, take beautiful features, as I tell +you, and commit them to your memory. + +Monstrous is he who has a very large head and short legs, and monstrous +he who with rich garments has great poverty; therefore we shall call +him well proportioned whose every part corresponds with his whole. + + +_On the Choice of Light_ + +If you had a courtyard, which you could cover at will with a canvas +awning, this light would be good; or when you wish to paint somebody, +paint him in bad weather, or at the hour of dusk, placing the sitter +with his back to one of the walls of this courtyard. + +Observe in the streets at the fall of the evening the faces of men and +women when it is bad weather, what grace and sweetness then appear to +be theirs. + +Therefore, you should have a courtyard, prepared with walls painted in +black, and with the roof projecting a little over the said wall. And it +should be ten _braccia_ [ten fathoms] in width, and twenty in length +and ten in height; and when the sun shines you should cover it over +with the awning, or you should paint an hour before evening, when it is +cloudy or misty. For this is the most perfect light. + + +_Of the Gesture of Figures_ + +You should give your figures such movement as will suffice to show +what is passing in the mind of the figure; else your art would not be +praiseworthy. A figure is not worthy of praise if it do not express by +some gesture the passion of the soul. That figure is most worthy of +praise which best expresses by its gesture the passion of its nature. + +If you have to represent an honest man talking, see that his action be +companion to his good words; and again, if you have to depict a bestial +man, give him wild movements--his arms thrown towards the spectator, +and his head pressed towards his chest, his legs apart. + + +_The Judgment of Painting_ + +We know well that mistakes are more easily detected in the works of +others than in one's own, and often, while censuring the small faults +of others, you do not recognise your own great faults. In order to +escape such ignorance, have a care that you be, above all, sure of your +perspective; then acquire full knowledge of the proportions of man and +other animals. And, moreover, be a good architect; that is, in so far +as it is necessary for the form of the buildings and other things that +are upon the earth, and that are infinitely varied in form. + +The more knowledge you have of these, the more worthy of praise will be +your work. And for those things in which you have no practice, do not +disdain to copy from nature. When you are painting, you should take a +flat mirror and often look at your work within it. It will be seen in +reverse, and will appear to be by some other master, and you will be +better able to judge of its faults than in any other way. It is also a +good plan every now and then to go away and have a little relaxation, +for then, when you come back to the work, your judgment will be surer, +since to remain constantly at work will cause you to lose the power of +judgment. + +Surely, while one paints one should not reject any man's judgment; for +we know very well that a man, even if he be no painter, has knowledge +of the forms of another man, and will judge aright whether he is +hump-backed, or has one shoulder too high or too low, or whether he has +too large a mouth or nose, or other faults; and if we are able rightly +to judge the work of nature in men, how much more is it fit to admit +that they are able to judge our mistakes. + +You know how much man may be deceived about his own works, and if you +do not know it of yourself, observe it in others, and you will derive +benefit from other people's mistakes. Therefore, you should be eager +to listen patiently to the views of other men and consider and reflect +carefully whether he who finds fault is right or not in blaming you. If +you find that he is right, correct your work; but if not, pretend not +to have understood him; or show him, if he be a man whom you respect, +by sound argument, why it is that he is mistaken in finding fault. + + +_Do Not Disdain to Work from Nature_ + +A master who let it be understood that his mind could retain all the +forms and effects of nature, I should certainly hold to be endowed with +great ignorance, since the said effects are infinite, and our memory is +not of such capacity as to suffice thereto. Therefore, O painter, see +that the greed for gain do not outweigh within you the honour of art, +for to gain in honour is a far greater thing than to be honoured for +wealth. + +For these and other reasons that might be adduced, you should endeavour +first to demonstrate to the eye, by means of drawing, a suggestion +of the intention and of the invention originated first by your +imagination. Then proceed, taking from it or adding to it, until you +are satisfied with it. Then have men arranged as models, draped or +nude, in the manner in which they are disposed in your work, and make +the proportions and size in accordance with perspective, so that no +part of the work remains that is not counselled by reason as well as by +nature. + +And this will be the way to make you honoured through your art. First +of all, copy drawings by a good master made by his art from nature, and +not as exercises; then from a relief, keeping by you a drawing done +from the same relief; then from a good model, and of this you ought to +make a general practice. + + +_Of the Painter's Life in His Study_ + +The painter or draughtsman should be solitary, so that physical comfort +may not injure the thriving of the mind, especially when he is occupied +with the observations and considerations which ever offer themselves to +his eye and provide material to be treasured up by the memory. If you +are alone, you belong wholly to yourself; and if you are accompanied +even by one companion, you belong only half to yourself; and if you +are with several of them, you will be even more subject to such +inconveniences. + +And if you should say, "I shall take my own course, I shall keep apart, +so that I may be the better able to contemplate the forms of natural +objects," then I reply, this cannot well be, because you cannot help +frequently lending your ear to their gossip; and since nobody can serve +two masters at once, you will badly fulfil your duties as companion, +and you will have worse success in artistic contemplation. And if you +should say, "I shall keep so far apart that their words cannot reach me +or disturb me," then I reply in this case that you will be looked upon +as mad. And do you not perceive that, in acting thus, you would really +be solitary? + + +_Of Ways to Represent Various Scenes_ + +A man in despair you should make turning his knife against himself. He +should have rent his garments, and he should be in the act of tearing +open his wound with one hand. And you should make him with his feet +apart and his legs somewhat bent, and the whole figure likewise bending +to the ground, with dishevelled and untidy hair. + +As a rule, he whom you wish to represent talking to many people will +consider the subject of which he has to treat, and will fit his +gestures to this subject--that is to say, if the subject is persuasion, +the gestures should serve this intention; if the subject is explanation +by various reasons, he who speaks should take a finger of his left hand +between two fingers of his right, keeping the two smaller ones pressed +together; his face should be animated and turned towards the people, +his mouth slightly opened, so that he seems to be talking. And if he +is seated, let him seem to be in the act of slightly raising himself, +with his head forward; and if he is standing, make him lean forward +a little, with his head towards the people, whom you should represent +silent and attentive, all watching, with gestures of admiration, the +orator's face. Some old men should have their mouths drawn down at the +corners in astonishment at what they hear, drawing back the cheeks in +many furrows, and raising their eyebrows where they meet, so as to +produce many wrinkles on their foreheads. Some who are seated should +hold their tired knees between the interlaced fingers of their hands, +and others should cross one knee over the other, and place upon it one +hand, so that its hollow supports the other elbow, whose hand again +supports the bearded chin. + +Whatever is wholly deprived of light is complete darkness. Night being +in this condition, if you wish to represent a scene therein, you must +contrive to have a great fire in this night, and everything that is in +closer proximity to this fire will assume more of its colour, because +the nearer a thing is to another object, the more it partakes of its +nature. And since you will make the fire incline towards a red colour, +you will have to give a reddish tinge to all things lighted by it, and +those which are farther away from the fire will have to hold more of +the black colour of night. The figures which are between you and the +fire appear dark against the brightness of the flame, for that part of +the object which you perceive is coloured by the darkness of night, +and not by the brightness of the fire; and those which flank the fire +will be half dark and half reddish. Those which are behind the flames +will be altogether illuminated by a reddish light against the black +background. + +If you wish to represent a tempest properly, observe and set down the +effects of the wind blowing over the face of the sea and of the land, +raising and carrying away everything that is not firmly rooted in the +general mass. And in order properly to represent this tempest, you +should first of all show the riven and torn clouds swept along by the +wind, together with the sandy dust blown up from the seashore, and with +branches and leaves caught up and scattered through the air, together +with many other light objects, by the power of the furious wind. The +trees and shrubs, bent to the ground, seem to desire to follow the +direction of the wind, with branches twisted out of their natural +growth, and their foliage tossed and inverted. + +Of the men who are present, some who are thrown down and entangled with +their garments and covered with dust should be almost unrecognisable; +and those who are left standing may be behind some tree which they +embrace, so that the storm should not carry them off. Others, bent +down, their garments and hair streaming in the wind, should hold their +hands before their eyes because of the dust. + +Let the turbulent and tempestuous sea be covered with eddying foam +between the rising waves, and let the wind carry fine spray into the +stormy air to resemble a thick and all-enveloping mist. Of the ships +that are there, show some with rent sails, whose shreds should flap in +the air, together with some broken halyards; masts splintered, tumbled, +with the ship itself broken by the fury of the waves; some human +beings, shrieking, and clinging to the wreckage of the vessel. You +should show the clouds, chased by the impetuous wind, hurled against +the high tops of the mountains, wreathing and eddying like waves that +beat against the cliffs. The air should strike terror through the murky +darkness caused by the dust, the mist, and the heavy clouds. + + +_To Learn to Work from Memory_ + +If you want properly to commit to your memory something that you +have learnt, proceed in this manner--namely, when you have drawn one +object so often that you believe you can remember it, try to draw it +without the model, after having traced your model on a thin sheet of +glass. This glass you will then lay upon the drawing which you have +made without model. Observe well where the tracing does not tally with +your drawing, and wherever you find that you have gone wrong, you must +remember not to go wrong again. You should even return to the model, +in order again to draw the wrong passage until it shall be fixed in +your memory. And if you have no level sheet of glass for tracing, take +a very thin sheet of goat-parchment, well oiled, and then dried. And +after the tracing has done service for your drawing, you can efface it +with a sponge and use it again for another tracing. + + +_On Studying in Bed_ + +I have experienced upon myself that it is of no small benefit if, when +you are in bed, you apply your imagination to repeating the superficial +lines of the forms which you have been studying, or to other remarkable +things which are comprehensible to a fine intellect. This is a +praiseworthy and useful action which will help you to fix things in +your memory. + + + + +GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM LESSING + +Laocoon + + In 1766, while acting as secretary to the governor of Breslau, + Lessing wrote his celebrated "Laocoon," a critical treatise + defining the limits of poetry and the plastic arts. The epitome + given here has been prepared from the German text. A short + biographical sketch of Lessing appears in the introduction to his + play, "Nathan the Wise," appearing in Volume XVII of THE WORLD'S + GREATEST BOOKS. + + +_I.--On the Limits of Painting and Poetry_ + +Winkelman has pronounced a noble simplicity and quiet grandeur, +displayed in the posture no less than in the expression, to be the +characteristic feature common to all the Greek masterpieces of painting +and sculpture. "As," says he, "the depths of the sea always remain +calm, however violently the surface may rage, so the expression in the +figures of the Greeks, under every form of passion, shows a great and +self-collected soul. + +"This spirit is portrayed in the countenance of Laocoon, but not in +the countenance alone. Even under the most violent suffering the +pain discovers itself in every muscle and sinew of his body, and the +beholder, while looking at the agonised conditions of the stomach, +without viewing the face and other parts, believes that he almost feels +the pain himself. The pain expresses itself without any violence, both +in the features and in the whole posture. Laocoon suffers, but he +suffers as the Philoctetes of Sophocles. His misery pierces us to the +very soul, but inspires us with a wish that we could endure misery like +that great man. + +"The expressing of so great a soul is far higher than the painting of +beautiful nature. The artist must feel within himself that strength of +spirit which he would imprint on his marble. Greece had philosophers +and artists in one person. Philosophy gave her hand to art, and +inspired its figures with no ordinary souls." + +The above remarks are founded on the argument that "the pain in +the face of Laocoon does not show itself with that force which its +intensity would have led us to expect." This is correct. But I confess +I differ from Winkelman as to what, in his opinion, is the basis of +this wisdom, and as to the universality of the rule which he deduces +from it. I acknowledge I was startled, first by the glances of +disapproval which he casts on Virgil, and, secondly, by the comparison +with Philoctetes. From this point I shall begin, writing down my +thoughts as they were developed in me. + +"Laocoon suffers as does the Philoctetes of Sophocles." But how does +this last suffer? It is curious that his sufferings should leave such a +different impression behind them. The cries and mild imprecations with +which he filled the camp and interrupted the sacrifices echoed through +the desolate island. The same sounds of despair fill the theatre in the +poet's imitation. + +A cry is the natural expression of bodily pain. Homer's wounded heroes +frequently fall to the ground with cries. They are in their actions +beings of higher order; in their feelings, true men. + +We more civilised and refined Europeans of a wiser and later age are +forbidden to cry and weep, and even our ancestors were taught to +suppress lamentation at loss, and to die laughing under the bites of +adders. Not so the Greeks. They felt and feared, and gave utterance to +pain and sorrow, only nothing must hold them back from duty. + +Now for my inference. If it be true that, a cry at the sensation of +bodily pain, according to the old Greek way of thinking, is quite +compatible with greatness of soul, it cannot have been for the sake of +expressing such greatness that the artist avoided imitating his shriek +in marble. Another reason must be found for his deviation from his +rival, the poet, who has expressed it with the happiest results. + +Be it fable or history, it is love that made the first essay in the +plastic arts, and never wearied of guiding the hands of the masters +of old. Painting now may be defined generally as "the imitation of +bodies of matter on a level surface"; but the wise Greek allotted for +it narrower limits, and confined it to imitations of the beautiful +only; his artists painted nothing else. It was the perfection of their +work that absorbed them. Among the ancients beauty was the highest +law of the plastic arts. To beauty everything was subordinated. There +are passions by which all beautiful physical lines are lost through +the distortion of the body, but from all such emotions the ancient +masters abstained entirely. Rage and despair disgrace none of their +productions, and I dare maintain that they never painted a fury. + +Indignation was softened down to seriousness. Grief was lessened into +mournfulness. All know how Timanthes in his painting of the sacrifice +of Iphigenia shows the sorrow of the bystanders, but has concealed +the face of the father, who should show it more than all. He left to +conjecture what he might not paint. This concealment is a sacrifice to +beauty by the artist, and it shows how art's first law is the law of +beauty. + +Now apply this to Laocoon. The master aimed at the highest beauty +compatible with the adopted circumstances of bodily pain. He must +soften shrieks into sighs. For only imagine the mouth of Laocoon to be +forced open, and then judge. + +But art in modern times has been allowed a far wider sphere. It has +been affirmed that its limitations extend over the whole of visible +nature, of which the beautiful is but a small part. And as nature is +ever ready to sacrifice beauty to higher aims, so should the artist +render it subordinate to his general design. But are there not +other considerations which compel the artist to put certain limits +to expression, and prevent him from ever drawing it at its highest +intensity? + +I believe that the fact that it is to a single moment that the material +limits of art confine all its limitations, will lead us to similar +views. + +If the artist out of ever-varying nature can only make use of a single +moment, while his works are meant to stand the test not only of a +passing glance, but of a long and repeated contemplation, it is clear +that this moment cannot be chosen too happily. Now that only is a +happy choice which allows the imagination free scope. In the whole +course of a feeling there is no moment which possesses this advantage +so little as its highest stage. There is nothing beyond this, and the +presentation of extremes to the eye clips the wings of fancy, prevents +her from soaring beyond the impression of the senses, and compels +her to occupy herself with weaker images. Thus if Laocoon sighs, the +imagination can hear him shriek; but if he shrieks, it can neither +rise above nor descend below this representation without seeing him +in a condition which, as it will be more endurable, becomes less +interesting. It either hears him merely moaning, or sees him already +dead. + +Of the frenzied Ajax of Timomachus we can form some judgment from the +account of Philoctetes. Ajax does not appear raging among herds and +slaughtering cattle instead of men; but the master exhibits him sitting +wearied with these deeds of insanity, and that is really the raging +Ajax. We can form the most lively idea of the extremity of his frenzy +from the shame and despair which he himself feels at the thought of it. +We see the storm in the wrecks and corpses which it had strewn on the +beach. + + +_II.--The Poet_ + +Perhaps hardly any of the above remarks concerning the necessary limits +of the artist would be found equally applicable to poetry. It is +undeniable that the whole realm of the perfectly excellent lies open +to the imitation of the poet, that excellence of outward form which we +call beauty being only one of the least of the means by which he can +interest us in his characters. + +Moreover, the poet is not compelled to concentrate his picture into +a single moment. He can take up every action of his hero at its +source, and pursue it to its issue through all possible variations. +Each of these, which would cost the artist a separate work, costs the +poet but a single trait. What wonderful skill has Sophocles shown in +strengthening and enlarging, in his tragedy of Philoctetes, the idea +of bodily pain! He chose a wound, and not an internal malady, because +the former admits of a more lively representation than the latter. +This wound was, moreover, a punishment divinely decreed. But to the +Greeks a wound from a poisoned arrow was but an ordinary incident. Why, +then, in the case of Philoctetes only was it followed by such dreadful +consequences? + +Sophocles felt full well that, however great he made the bodily pain to +his hero, it would not have sufficed of itself to excite any remarkable +degree of sympathy. He therefore combined it with other evils--the +complete lack of society, hunger, and all the hardships to which such a +man under terrible privations is exposed when cast on a wild, deserted +isle of the Cyclades. + +Imagine, now, a man in these conditions, but give him health and +strength and industry, and he becomes a Crusoe, whose lot, though not +indifferent to us, has no great claim on our sympathy. On the other +hand, imagine a man afflicted by a painful and incurable disease, but +at the same time surrounded by kind friends. For him we should feel +sympathy, yet this would not endure throughout. Only when both cases +are combined do we see nothing but despair, which excites our amazement +and horror. Typical beauty arises from the harmonious effect of +numerous parts, all of which the sight is capable of comprehending at +the same time. It requires, therefore, that these parts should lie near +each other; and since things whose parts lie near each other are the +peculiar objects of plastic beauty, these it is, and these only, which +can imitate typical beauty. The poet, since he can only exhibit in +succession its component parts, entirely abstains from the description +of typical beauty. He feels that these parts, ranged one after the +other, cannot possibly have the effect they produce when closely +arranged together. + +In this respect Homer is a pattern of patterns. He says Nireus was +beautiful, Achilles still more so, Helen was endowed with divine +beauty. But nowhere does he enter on a detailed sketch of these +beauties, and yet the whole Iliad is based on the loveliness of Helen. + +In this point, in which he can imitate Homer by merely doing nothing, +Virgil is also tolerably happy. His heroine Dido, too, is never +anything more than _pulcherrima_ Dido (loveliest Dido). When he wishes +to be more circumstantial, he is so in the description of her rich +dress and apparel. + +Lucian, also, was too acute to convey any idea of the body of Panthea +otherwise than by reference to the most lovely female statues of the +old artists. + +Yet what is this but the acknowledgment that language by itself is +here without power; that poetry falters and eloquence grows speechless +unless art in some measure serve them as an interpreter? + +But, it will be said, does not poetry lose too much if we deprive +her of all objects of typical beauty? Who would deprive her of them? +Because we would debar her from wandering among the footsteps of her +sister art, without ever reaching the same goal as she, do we exclude +her from every other, where art in her turn must gaze after her steps +with fruitless longings? + +Even Homer, who so pointedly abstains from all detailed descriptions +of typical beauties, from whom we but just learn that Helen had white +arms and lovely hair, even he, with all this, knew how to convey to us +an idea of her beauty which far exceeds anything that art is able to +accomplish. + + +_III.--Beauty and Charm_ + +Again, another means which poetry possesses of rivalling art in the +description of typical beauty is the change of beauty into charm. +Charm is beauty in motion, and is for this very reason less suitable +to the painter than to the poet. The painter can only leave motion to +conjecture, while in fact his figures are motionless. Consequently, +with him charm becomes grimace. + +But in poetry it remains what it is, a transitory beauty which we would +gladly see repeated. It comes and goes, and since we can generally +recall to our minds a movement more easily and vividly than forms +or colours, charm necessarily in the same circumstances produces a +stronger effect than beauty. + +Zeuxis painted a Helen, and had the courage to write below the picture +those renowned lines of Homer in which the enraptured elders confess +their sensations. Never had painting and poetry been engaged in such +contest. The contest remained undecided, and both deserved the crown. + +For just as a wise poet showed us the beauty which he felt he could not +paint according to its constituent parts, but merely in its effect, so +the no less wise painter showed us that beauty by nothing but those +parts, deeming it unbecoming for his art to resort to any other means +for aid. His picture consisted of a single figure, undraped, of Helen, +probably the one painted for the people of Crotona. + +In beauty a single unbecoming part may disturb the harmonious effect +of many, without the object necessarily becoming ugly. For ugliness, +too, requires several unbecoming parts, all of which we must be able +to comprehend at the same view before we experience sensations the +opposite of those which beauty produces. + +According to this, therefore, ugliness in its essence could be no +subject of poetry; yet Homer has painted extreme ugliness in Thersites, +and this ugliness is described according to its parts near each other. +Why in the case of ugliness did he allow himself the license from which +he had abstained in that of beauty? A successive enumeration of the +elements of beauty will annihilate its effects. Will not a similar +cause produce a similar effect in the case of ugliness? + +Undoubtedly it will; but it is in this very fact that the justification +of Homer lies. The poet can only take advantage of ugliness so far as +it is reduced in his description into the less repugnant appearance of +bodily imperfection, and ceases, as it were, in point of effect, to be +ugliness. Thus, what he cannot make use of by itself he can use as the +ingredient for the purpose of producing and strengthening certain mixed +sensations. + +These mixed feelings are the ridiculous and the horrible. Homer makes +Thersites ugly in order to make him ridiculous. He is not made so, +however, merely by his ugliness, for ugliness is an imperfection, and +the contrast of perfection with imperfections is required to produce +the ridiculous. To this I may add that the contrast must not be too +sharp and glaring, and that the contrasts must blend into each other. + +The wise and virtuous AEsop does not become ridiculous because of +ugliness attributed to him. For his misshapen body and beautiful +mind are as oil and vinegar; however much you shake them together, +they always remain distinct to the taste. They will not amalgamate +to produce a third quality. The body produces annoyance; the soul, +pleasure; each has its own effect. + +It is only when the deformed body is also fragile and, sickly, when it +impedes the soul, that the annoyance and pleasure melt into each other. + +For, let us suppose that the instigations of the malicious and snarling +Thersites had resulted in mutiny, that the people had forsaken their +leaders and departed in the ships, and that these leaders had been +massacred by a revengeful foe. How would the ugliness of Thersites +appear then? If ugliness, when harmless, may be ridiculous, when +hurtful it is always horrible. In Shakespeare's "King Lear," Edmund, +the bastard Count of Gloucester, is no less a villain than Richard, +Duke of Gloucester, in "King Richard III." How is it, then, that the +first excites our loathing so much less than the second? It is because +when I hear the former, I listen to a devil, but see him as an angel of +light; but in listening to Richard I hear a devil and see a devil. + + + + +JOHN STUART MILL + +Essay on Liberty + + Ten years elapsed between the publication of "Political Economy" + (see Vol. XIV, p. 294) and the "Essay on Liberty," Mill in the + meantime (1851) having married Mrs. John Taylor, a lady who + exercised no small influence on his philosophical position. + The seven years of his married life saw little or nothing from + his pen. The "Essay on Liberty," in many respects the most + carefully prepared of all his books, appeared in 1859, the + year following the death of his wife, in collaboration with + whom it was thought out and partly written. The treatise goes + naturally with that on "Utilitarianism." Both are succinct and + incisive in their reasoning, and both are grounded on similar + sociological principles. Perhaps the primary problem of politics + in all ages has been the reconciliation of individual and social + interests; and at the present day, when the problem appears to + be particularly troublesome, Mill's view of the situation is + of especial value. In recent time, legislation has certainly + tended to become more socialistic, and the doctrine of individual + liberty promulgated in this "Essay" has a most interesting + relevancy to modern social movements. + + +_I.--Liberty of Thought and Discussion_ + +Protection against popular government is as indispensable as protection +against political despotism. The people may desire to oppress a part +of their number, and precautions are needed against this as against +any other abuse of power. So much will be readily granted by most, and +yet no attempt has been made to find the fitting adjustment between +individual independence and social control. + +The object of this essay is to assert the simple principle that the +sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, +in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number +is self-protection--that the only purpose for which power can be +rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community, +against his will, is to prevent harm to others, either by his action +or inaction. The only part of the conduct of anyone for which he is +amenable to society is that which concerns others. In the part which +merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over +himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign. + +This principle requires, firstly, liberty of conscience in the most +comprehensive sense, liberty of thought and feeling; absolute freedom +of opinion and sentiment on all subjects, practical or speculative, +scientific, moral, or theological--the liberty even of publishing +and expressing opinions. Secondly, the principle requires liberty +of tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to suit +our own character; of doing as we like, so long as we do not harm +our fellow-creatures. Thirdly, the principle requires liberty of +combination among individuals for any purpose not involving harm to +others, provided the persons are of full age and not forced or deceived. + +The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own +good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others +of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Mankind gains more +by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves than by +compelling each to live as seems good to the rest. + +Coercion in matters of thought and discussion must always be +illegitimate. If all mankind save one were of one opinion, mankind +would be no more justified in silencing the solitary individual than +he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. The +peculiar evil of silencing the expression of opinion is that it is +robbing the whole human race, present and future--those who dissent +from the opinion even more than those who hold it. For if the opinion +is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for +truth; and if wrong, they lose the clear and livelier impression of +truth produced by its collision with error. + +All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility, and, +as all history teaches, neither communities nor individuals are +infallible. Men cannot be too often reminded of the condemnation of +Socrates and of Christ, and of the persecution of the Christians by the +noble-minded Marcus Aurelius. + +Enemies of religious freedom maintain that persecution is a good thing, +for, even though it makes mistakes, it will root out error while it +cannot extirpate truth. But history shows that even if truth cannot be +finally extirpated, it may at least be put back centuries. + +We no longer put heretics to death; but we punish heresies with a +social stigma almost as effective, since it may debar men from earning +their bread. Social intolerance does not actually eradicate heresies, +but it induces men to hide unpopular opinions. The result is that new +and heretical opinions smoulder in the narrow circles of thinking and +studious persons who originate them, and never light up the general +affairs of mankind with either a true or deceptive light. The price +paid for intellectual pacification is the sacrifice of the entire moral +courage of the human race. Who can compute what the world loses in the +multitude of promising intellects too timid to follow out any bold, +independent train of thought lest it might be considered irreligious +or immoral? No one can be a great thinker who does not follow his +intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. In a general atmosphere +of mental slavery a few great thinkers may survive, but in such an +atmosphere there never has been, and never will be, an intellectually +active people; and all progress in the human mind and in human +institutions may be traced to periods of mental emancipation. + +Even if an opinion be indubitably true and undoubtingly believed, it +will be a dead dogma, and not a living truth, if it be not fully, +frequently, and fearlessly discussed. If the cultivation of the +understanding consists of one thing more than another, it is surely in +learning the grounds of one's own opinions, and these can only be fully +learned by facing the arguments that favour the opposite opinions. He +who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that. Unless he +knows the difficulties which his truth has to encounter and conquer, +he knows little of the force of his truth. Not only are the grounds of +an opinion unformed or forgotten in the absence of discussion, but too +often the very meaning of the opinion. When the mind is not compelled +to exercise its powers on the questions which its belief presents to +it, there is a progressive tendency to forget all of the belief except +the formularies, until it almost ceases to connect itself at all with +the inner life of the human being. In such cases a creed merely stands +sentinel at the entrance of the mind and heart to keep them empty, +as is so often seen in the case of the Christian creed as at present +professed. + +So far we have considered only two possibilities--that the received +opinion may be false and some other opinion consequently true, or that, +the received opinion being true, a conflict with the opposite error is +essential to a clear apprehension and deep feeling of the truth. But +there is a commoner case still, when conflicting doctrines share the +truth, and when the heretical doctrine completes the orthodox. Every +opinion which embodies somewhat of the portion of the truth which the +common opinion omits, ought to be considered precious with whatever +amount of error and confusion it may be conjoined. In politics, +again, it is almost a commonplace that a party of order or stability, +and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary factors in a +healthy political life. Unless opinions favourable to democracy and +to aristocracy, to property, and to equality, to co-operation and to +competition, to sociality and to individuality, to liberty and to +discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms of practical life +are expressed with equal freedom, and enforced and defended with equal +talent and energy, there is no chance of both elements obtaining their +due. Truth is usually reached only by the rough process of a struggle +between combatants fighting under hostile banners. + +It may be objected, "But _some_ received principles, especially on +the highest and most vital subjects, are more than half-truths." +This objection is not sound. Even the Christian morality is, in many +important points, incomplete and one-sided, and unless ideas and +feelings not sanctioned by it had constituted to the formation of +European life and character, human affairs would have been in a worse +condition than they now are. + + +_II.--Individuality as One of the Elements of Well-Being_ + +We have seen that opinions should be freely formed and freely +expressed. How about _actions_? If a man refrains from molesting others +in what concerns him, and merely acts according to his own inclination +and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which +show that opinion should be free prove also that he should be allowed +to carry his opinions into action. As it is useful that while mankind +are imperfect there should be different opinions, so it is useful that +there should be different experiments of living, that free scope should +be given to varieties of character short of injury to others, and that +the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically. It +is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern +others, individuality should assert itself. When, not the person's own +character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule +of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human +happiness and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social +progress. + +No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do +absolutely nothing but copy one another. On the other hand, it would +be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if experience had +as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence or of +conduct is preferable to another. No one denies that people should be +so taught and trained in youth as to know and benefit by the results of +human experience. But it is the privilege of a mature man to use and +interpret experience in his own way. He who lets the world, or his own +portion of it, choose his plan of life for him has no need of any other +faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He, on the other hand, who +chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties--reasoning, +foresight, activity, discrimination, resolution, self-control. We wish +not automatons, but living, originating men and women. + +So much will be readily conceded, but nevertheless it may be +maintained that strong desires and passions are a peril and a snare. +Yet it is desires and impulses which constitute character, and one +with no desires and impulses of his own has no more character than +a steam-engine. An energetic character implies strong, spontaneous +impulses under the control of a strong will; and such characters +are desirable, since the danger which threatens modern society is +not excess but deficiency of personal impulses and preferences. +Everyone nowadays asks: what is usually done by persons of my station +and pecuniary circumstances, or (worse still) what is usually done +by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? The +consequence is that, through failure to follow their own nature, they +have no nature to follow; their human capacities are withered and +starved, and are incapable of any strong pleasures or opinions properly +their own. + +It is not by pruning away the individual but by cultivating it wisely +that human beings become valuable to themselves and to others, and that +human life becomes rich, diversified, and interesting. Individuality is +equivalent to development, and in proportion to the latitude given to +individuality an age becomes noteworthy or the reverse. + +Unfortunately, the general tendency of things is to render mediocrity +the ascendant power. At present, individuals are lost in the crowd, +and it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the +world. And public opinion is the opinion of collective mediocrity, and +is expressed by mediocre men. The initiation of all wise and noble +opinions must come from individuals, and the individuality of those who +stand on the higher eminences of thought is necessary to correct the +tendency that makes mankind acquiesce in customary and popular opinions. + + +_III.--The Limits of the Authority of Society Over the Individual_ + +Where, then, does the authority of society begin? How much of human +life should be assigned to individuality, and how much to society? + +To individuality should belong that part of life in which it is chiefly +the individual that is interested; to society, the part which chiefly +interests society. + +Society, in return for the protection it affords its members, and as a +condition of its existence, demands, firstly, that its members respect +the rights of one another; and, secondly, that each person bear his +share of the labours and sacrifices incurred in defending society for +its members. Further, society may punish acts of an individual hurtful +to others, even if not a violation of rights, by the force of public +opinion. + +But in all cases where a person's conduct affects or need only affect +himself, society may not interfere. Society may help individuals in +their personal affairs, but neither one person, nor any number of +persons, is warranted in saying to any human creature that he may not +use his own life, so far as it concerns himself, as he pleases. He +himself is the final judge of his own concerns, and the inconveniences +which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others +are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that +portion of his conduct and character which affects his own good, but +which does not affect the interests of others. + +But how, it may be asked, can any part of the conduct of a member of +society be a matter of indifference to the other members? + +I fully confess that the mischief which a person does to himself may +seriously affect those nearly connected with him, and even society +at large. But such contingent and indirect injury should be endured +by society for the sake of the greater good of human freedom, and +because any attempt at coercion in private conduct will merely produce +rebellion on the part of the individual coerced. Moreover, when +society interferes with purely personal conduct, the odds are that it +interferes wrongly, and in the wrong places, as the pages of history +and the records of legislation abundantly demonstrate. + +Closely connected with the question of the limitations of the +authority of society over the individual is the question of government +participation in industrial and other enterprises generally undertaken +by individuals. + +There are three main objections to the interference of the state in +such matters. In the first place, the matter may be better managed +by individuals than by the government. In the second place, though +individuals may not do it so well as government might, yet it is +desirable that they should do it, as a means of their own mental +education. In the third place, it is undesirable to add to the power +of the government. If roads, railways, banks, insurance offices, great +joint-stock companies, universities, public charities, municipal +corporations, and local boards were all in the government service, +and if the employees in these look to the government for promotion, +not all the freedom of the Press and the popular constitution of the +legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than +in name. And, for various reasons, the better qualified the heads and +hands of the government officials, the more detrimental would the rule +of the government be. Such a government would inevitably degenerate +into a pedantocracy monopolising all the occupations which form and +cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind. + +To find the best compromise between individuals and the state is +difficult, but I believe the ideal must combine the greatest possible +dissemination of power consistent with efficiency, and the greatest +possible centralisation and diffusion of information. + + + + +JOHN MILTON + +Areopagitica + + It has been said of "Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton + for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament of + England," that it is "the piece that lies more surely than + any other at the very heart of our prose literature." In 1637 + the Star Chamber issued a decree regulating the printing, + circulation, and importation of books, and on June 14, 1643, the + Long Parliament published an order in the same spirit. Milton + (see Vol. XVII) felt that what had been done in the days of + repression and tyranny was being continued under the reign of + liberty, and that the time for protest had arrived. Liberty was + the central principle of Milton's faith. He regarded it as the + most potent, beneficent, and sacred factor in human progress; and + he applied it all round--to literature, religion, marriage, and + civic life. His "Areopagitica," published in November, 1644, was + an application of the principle to literature that has remained + unanswered. The word "Areopagitica" is derived from Areopagus, + the celebrated open-air court in Athens, whose decision in + matters of public importance was regarded as final. + + +_I.--The Right of Appeal_ + +It is not a liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should +arise in the Commonwealth--that let no man in this world expect; but +when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily +reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise +men look for. To which we are already in good part arrived; and this +will be attributed first to the strong assistance of God our Deliverer, +next to your faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons +of England. + +If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour of your civil and +gentle greatness, Lords and Commons, as to gainsay what your published +Order hath directly said, I might defend myself with ease out of those +ages to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are not yet +Goths and Jutlanders. Such honour was done in those days to men who +professed the study of wisdom and eloquence that cities and signiories +heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they had aught in public +to admonish the state. + +When your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason +from what quarter soever it be heard speaking, I know not what +should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit instance wherein +to show, both that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and +that uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be partial to +yourselves, by judging over again that Order which ye have ordained to +regulate printing: that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth +printed unless the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at +least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed. + +I shall lay before ye, first, that the inventors of licensing books +be those whom ye will be loth to own; next, what is to be thought in +general of reading, whatever sort the books be; last, that it will +be primely to the discouragement of all learning and the stop of +truth. I deny not that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and +commonwealth to have a vigilant eye how books demean themselves, as +well as men. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a +potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny +they are. + +Nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction +of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively and +as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and, being +sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the +other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill +a good book. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is +the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up +on purpose to life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life, +whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not +oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole +nations fare the worse. + +We should be wary, therefore, how we spill that seasoned life of man, +preserved and stored up in books, since we see a kind of homicide may +be thus committed, that strikes at that ethereal essence, the breath of +reason itself, and slays an immortality rather than a life. + + +_II.--The History of Repression_ + +In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than in any other part +of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the magistrate +cared to take notice of--those either blasphemous and atheistical, or +libellous. The Romans, for many ages trained up only to a military +roughness, knew of learning little. There libellous authors were +quickly cast into prison, and the like severity was used if aught were +impiously written. Except in these two points, how the world went in +books the magistrate kept no reckoning. + +By the time the emperors were become Christians, the books of those +whom they took to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and +condemned in the general councils, and not till then were prohibited. + +As for the writings of heathen authors, unless they were plain +invectives against Christianity, they met with no interdict that can +be cited till about the year 400. The primitive councils and bishops +were wont only to declare what books were not commendable, passing no +further till after the year 800, after which time the popes of Rome +extended their dominion over men's eyes, as they had before over their +judgments, burning and prohibiting to be read what they fancied not, +till Martin V. by his Bull not only prohibited, but was the first +that excommunicated the reading of heretical books; for about that +time Wickliffe and Huss, growing terrible, drove the papal court to a +stricter policy of prohibiting. To fill up the measure of encroachment, +their last invention was to ordain that no book, pamphlet, or paper +should be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them the keys of the +press also out of Paradise), unless it were approved and licensed under +the hands of two or three glutton friars. + +Not from any ancient state or polity or church, nor by any statute +left us by our ancestors, but from the most tyrannous Inquisition have +ye this book-licensing. Till then books were as freely admitted into +the world as any other birth. No envious Juno sat cross-legged over +the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring. That ye like not now +these most certain authors of this licensing Order, all men who know +the integrity of your actions will clear ye readily. + + +_III.--The Futility of Prohibition_ + +But some will say, "What though the inventors were bad, the thing, for +all that, may be good?" It may be so, yet I am of those who believe it +will be a harder alchemy than Lullius ever knew to sublimate any good +use out of such an invention. + +Good and evil in the field of this world grow up together almost +inseparably. As the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to +choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil? +I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and +unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks +out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not +without dust and heat. That which purifies us is trial, and trial is +by what is contrary. And how can we more safely, and with less danger +scout into the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner of +tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And this is the benefit +which may be had of books promiscuously read. + +'Tis next alleged we must not expose ourselves to temptations without +necessity, and next to that, not employ our time in vain things. To +both these objections one answer will serve--that to all men such books +are not temptations, nor vanities, but useful drugs and materials +wherewith to temper and compose effective and strong medicines. The +rest, as children and childish men, who have not the art to qualify +and prepare these working minerals, well may be exhorted to forbear, +but hindered forcibly they cannot be by all the licensing that sainted +Inquisition could ever yet contrive. + +This Order of licensing conduces nothing to the end for which it was +framed. If we think to regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, +we must regulate all recreations and pastimes, all that is delightful +to man. No music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is +grave and Doric. There must be licensing dancers, that no gesture, +motion, or deportment be taught our youth but what by their allowance +shall be thought honest. Our garments, also, should be referred to +the licensing of some more sober workmasters to see them cut into a +less wanton garb. Who shall regulate all the mixed conversation of our +youth? Who shall still appoint what shall be discoursed, what presumed, +and no further? Lastly, who shall forbid and separate all idle resort, +all evil company? If every action which is good or evil in man at ripe +years were to be under pittance and prescription and compulsion, what +were virtue but a name? + +When God gave Adam reason, he gave him reason to choose, for reason is +but choosing. Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures +round about us, but that these rightly tempered are the very +ingredients of virtue? + +Why should we then affect a rigour contrary to the manner of God and +of nature, by abridging or scanting those means which books freely +permitted are both to the trial of virtue and the exercise of truth? + + +_IV.--An Indignity to Learning_ + +I lastly proceed from the no good it can do to the manifest hurt +it causes in being, first, the greatest discouragement and affront +that can be offered to learning and to learned men. If ye be loth to +dishearten utterly and discontent the free and ingenuous sort of such +as were born to study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre or +any other end but the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that +lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which God and good men have +consented shall be the reward of those whose published labours advance +the good of mankind, then know that so far to distrust the judgment and +the honesty of one who hath but a common repute in learning, and never +yet offended, as not to count him fit to print his mind without a tutor +and examiner, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and +knowing spirit that can be put upon him. + +When a man writes to the world he summons up all his reason and +deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and +likely consults and confers with his judicious friends. If in this, +the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no +industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state +of maturity as not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he +carry all his considerate diligence to the hasty view of an unleisured +licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps far his inferior in +judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labour of book-writing, and if +he be not repulsed or slighted, must appear in print with his censor's +hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and surety that he is no +idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the +author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning. + +And, further, to me it seems an undervaluing and vilifying of the whole +nation. I cannot set so light by all the invention, the art, the wit, +the grave and solid judgment which is in England, as that it can be +comprehended in any twenty capacities how good soever, much less that +it should not pass except their superintendence be over it, except +it be sifted and strained with their strainers, that it should be +uncurrent without their manual stamp. Truth and understanding are not +such wares as to be monopolised and traded in by tickets and statutes +and standards. + +Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation it is whereof ye +are, and whereof ye are the governors--a nation not slow and dull, but +of a quick, ingenious and piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and +sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest +that human capacity can soar to. Is it for nothing that the grave and +frugal Transylvanian sends out yearly from as far as the mountainous +borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their +youth, but their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic +arts? By all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy +and devout men, God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in +His Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself. What does He, +then, but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner is, first +to His Englishmen? + +Behold now this vast city--a city of refuge, the mansion house of +liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection. The shop of +war hath not there more anvils and hammers waking to fashion out the +plates and instruments of armed justice in defence of beleaguered +truth than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious +lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith +to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching +Reformation; others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting +to the force of reason and convincement. What could a man require +more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge? +Where there is much desire to learn, there, of necessity, will be +much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men +is but knowledge in the making. A little generous prudence, a little +forbearance of one another, and some grain of charity might win all +these diligencies to join and unite in one general search after +truth, could we but forego this prelatical tradition of crowding free +consciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men. + +Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself +like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks. +Methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling +her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam; purging and unsealing her +long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while +the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that +love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in +their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms. + +What should ye do then? Should ye suppress all this flowery crop +of knowledge and new light? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty +engrossers over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we +shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe +it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing do +as good as bid ye suppress yourselves. If it be desired to know the +immediate cause of all this free writing and free speaking, there +cannot be assigned a truer than your own mild, and free, and humane +government. It is the liberty, Lords and Commons, which our own +valorous and happy counsels have purchased us, liberty, which is the +nurse of all great wits. Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to +argue freely according to conscience above all liberties. And though +all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so +Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, +to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple. Whoever knew +Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter? For who knows not +that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor +stratagems, nor licensing to make her victorious. Those are the shifts +and defences that error uses against her power. Give her but room, and +do not bind her when she sleeps. + + + + +PLUTARCH + +Parallel Lives + + Little is known of the life of Plutarch, greatest of biographers. + He was born about 50 A.D., at Chaeronea, in Boeotia, Greece, the + son of a learned and virtuous father. He studied philosophy + under Ammonius at Delphi, and on his return to his native city + became a priest of Apollo, and archon, or chief magistrate. + Plutarch wrote many philosophical works, which are enumerated by + his son Lamprias, but are no longer extant. We have about fifty + biographies, which are called "parallel" because of the method + by which Plutarch, after giving separately the lives of two or + more people, proceeds to compare them with one another. The + "Lives" were translated into French in Henry II.'s reign, and + into English in the time of Elizabeth. They have been exceedingly + popular at every period, and many authors, including Shakespeare, + have owed much to them. Plutarch died about 120 A.D. + + +_I.--Lycurgus and Numa_ + +According to the best authors, Lycurgus, the law-giver, reigned only +for eight months as king of Sparta, until the widow of the late king, +his brother, had given birth to a son, whom he named Charilaus. He +then travelled for some years in Crete, Asia, and possibly also in +Egypt, Libya, Spain, and India, studying governments and manners; and +returning to Sparta, he set himself to alter the whole constitution of +that kingdom, with the encouragement of the oracles and the favour of +Charilaus. + +The first institution was a senate of twenty-eight members, whose place +it was to strengthen the throne when the people encroached too far, and +to support the people when the king should attempt to become absolute. +Occasional popular assemblies, in the open air, were to be called, not +to propose any subject of debate, but only to ratify or reject the +proposals of the senate and the two kings. + +His second political enterprise was a new division of the lands, for +he found a prodigious inequality, wealth being centred in the hands of +a few; and by this reform Laconia became like an estate newly divided +among many brothers. Each plot of land was sufficient to maintain a +family in health, and they wanted nothing more. + +Then, desiring also to equalise property in movable objects, he +resorted to the device of doing away with gold and silver currency, and +establishing an iron coinage, of which great bulk and weight went to +but little value. He excluded all unprofitable and superfluous arts; +and the Spartans soon had no means of purchasing foreign wares, nor did +any merchant ship unlade in their harbours. Luxury died away of itself, +and the workmanship of their necessary and useful furniture rose to +great excellence. + +Public tables were now established, where all must eat in common of +the same frugal meal; whereby hardiness and health of body and mutual +benevolence of mind were alike promoted. There were about fifteen to +a table, to which each contributed in provisions or in money; the +conversation was liberal and well-informed, and salted with pleasant +raillery. + +Lycurgus left no law in writing; he depended on principles pervading +the customs of the people; and he reduced the whole business of +legislation into the bringing up of the young. And in this matter +he began truly at the beginning, by regulating marriages. The man +unmarried after the prescribed age was prosecuted and disgraced; and +the father of four children was immune from taxation. + +Lycurgus considered the children as the property of the state rather +than of the parents, and derided the vanity of other nations, who +studied to have horses of the finest breed, yet had their children +begotten by ordinary persons rather than by the best and healthiest +men. At birth, the children were carried to be examined by the oldest +men in council, who had the weaklings thrown away into a cavern, and +gave orders for the education of the sturdy. + +As for learning, they had just what was necessary and no more, their +education being directed chiefly to making them obedient, laborious, +and warlike. They went barefoot, and for the most part naked. They were +trained to steal with astuteness, to suffer pain and hunger, and to +express themselves without an unnecessary word. Dignified poetry and +music were encouraged. To the end of his life, the Spartan was kept +ever in mind that he was born, not for himself, but for his country; +the city was like one great camp, where each had his stated allowance +and his stated public charge. + +Let us turn now to Numa Pompilius, the great law-giver of the +Romans. A Sabine of illustrious virtue and great simplicity of life, +he was elected to be king after the interregnum which followed on +the disappearance of Romulus. He had spent much time in solitary +wanderings in the sacred groves and other retired places; and there, +it is reported, the goddess Egeria communicated to him a happiness and +knowledge more than mortal. + +Numa was in his fortieth year, and was not easily persuaded to +undertake the Roman kingdom. But his disinclination was overcome, and +he was received with loud acclamations as the most pious of men and +most beloved of the gods. His first act was to discharge the body-guard +provided for him, and to appoint a priest for the cult of Romulus. But +his great task was to soften the Romans, as iron is softened by fire, +and to bring them from a violent and warlike disposition to a juster +and more gentle temper. For Rome was composed at first of most hardy +and resolute men, inveterate warriors. + +To reduce this people to mildness and peace, he called in the +assistance of religion. By sacrifices, solemn dances, and processions, +wherein he himself officiated, he mixed the charms of festal pleasure +with holy ritual. + +He founded the hierarchy of priests, the vestal virgins, and several +other sacred orders; and passed most of his time in performing some +religious function or in conversing with the priests on some divine +subject. And by all this discipline the people became so tractable, +and were so impressed with Numa's power, that they would believe the +most fabulous tales, and thought nothing impossible which he undertook. +Numa further introduced agriculture, and fostered it as an incentive to +peace; he distributed the citizens of Rome into guilds, or companies, +according to their several arts and trades; he reformed the calendar, +and did many other services to his people. + +Comparing, now, Lycurgus and Numa, we find that their resemblances are +obvious--their wisdom, piety, talent for government, and their deriving +their laws from a divine source. Of their distinctions, the chief is +that Numa accepted, but Lycurgus relinquished, a crown; and as it was +an honour to the former to attain royal dignity by his justice, so it +was an honour to the latter to prefer justice to that dignity. Again, +Lycurgus tuned up the strings of Sparta, which he found relaxed with +luxury, to a keener pitch; Numa, on the contrary, softened the high and +harsh tone of Rome. Both were equally studious to lead their people +to sobriety, but Lycurgus was more attached to fortitude and Numa to +justice. + +Though Numa put an end to the gain of rapine, he made no provision +against the accumulation of great fortunes, nor against poverty, which +then began to spread within the city. He ought rather to have watched +against these dangers, for they gave birth to the many troubles that +befell the Roman state. + + +_II.--Aristides and Cato_ + +Aristides had a close friendship with Clisthenes, who established +popular government in Athens after the expulsion of the tyrants; yet +he had at the same time a great veneration for Lycurgus of Sparta, +whom he regarded as supreme among law-givers; and this led him to +be a supporter of aristocracy, in which he was always opposed by +Themistocles, the democrat. The latter was insinuating, daring, artful, +and impetuous, but Aristides was solid and steady, inflexibly just, and +incapable of flattery or deceit. + +Neither elated by honour nor disheartened by ill success, Aristides +became deeply founded in the estimation of the best citizens. He +was appointed public treasurer, and showed up the peculations of +Themistocles and of others who had preceded him. When the fleet of +Darius was at Marathon, with a view to subjugating Greece, Miltiades +and Aristides were the Greek generals, who by custom were to command +by turns, day about; and Aristides freely gave up his command to the +other, to promote unity of discipline, and to give example of military +obedience. The next year he became archon. Though a poor man and a +commoner, Aristides won the royal and divine title of "the Just." At +first loved and respected for his surname "the Just," Aristides came to +be envied and dreaded for so extraordinary an honour, and the citizens +assembled from all the towns in Attica and banished him by ostracism, +cloaking their envy of his character under the pretence of guarding +against tyranny. Three years later they reversed this decree, fearing +lest Aristides should join the cause of Xerxes. They little knew the +man; even before his recall he had been inciting the Greeks to defend +their liberty. + +In the great battle of Plataea, Aristides was in command of the +Athenians; Pausanias, commander-in-chief of all the confederates, +joined him there with the Spartans. The opposing Persian army covered +an immense area. In the engagements which took place the Greeks behaved +with the utmost firmness, and at last stormed the Persian camp, with +a prodigious slaughter of the enemy. When, later, Aristides was +entrusted with the task of assessing the cities of the allies for a +tax towards the war, and was thus clothed with an authority which made +him master of Greece, though he set out poor he returned yet poorer, +having arranged the burden with equal justice and humanity. In fact, he +esteemed his poverty no less a glory than all the laurels he had won. + +The Roman counterpart of Aristides was Cato; which name he received +for his wisdom, for Romans call wise men Catos. Marcus Cato, the +censor, came of an obscure family, yet his father and grandfather were +excellent soldiers. He lived on an estate which his father left him +near the Sabine country. With red hair and grey eyes, his appearance +was such, says an epigram, as to scare the spirits of the departed. +Inured to labour and temperance, he had the sound constitution of one +brought up in camps; and he had practised eloquence as a necessary +instrument for one who would mix with affairs. While still a lad he had +fought in so many battles that his breast was covered with scars; and +all who spoke with him noted a gravity of behaviour and a dignity of +sentiment such as to fit him for high responsibilities. + +A powerful nobleman, Valerius Flaccus, whose estate was near Cato's +home, heard his servants praise their neighbour's laborious life. +He sent for Cato, and, charmed with his sweet temper and ready wit, +persuaded him to go to Rome and apply himself to political affairs. His +rise was rapid; he became tribune of the soldiers, then quaestor, and at +last was the colleague of Valerius both as consul and as censor. + +Cato's eloquence brought him the epithet of the Roman Demosthenes, but +he was even more celebrated for his manner of living. Few were willing +to imitate him in the ancient custom of tilling the ground with his own +hands, in eating a dinner prepared without fire, and a spare, frugal +supper; few thought it more honourable not to want superfluities than +to possess them. By reason of its vast dominions, the commonwealth had +lost its pristine purity and integrity; the citizens were frightened +at labour and enervated by pleasure. But Cato never wore a costly +garment nor partook of an elaborate meal; even when consul he drank +the same wine as his servants. He thought nothing cheap that is +superfluous. Some called him mean and narrow, others thought that he +was setting an object-lesson to the growing luxury of the age. For my +part, I think that his custom of using his servants like beasts of +burden, and of turning them off or selling them when grown old, was the +mark of an ungenerous spirit, which thinks that the sole tie between +man and man is interest or necessity. For my own part, I would not sell +even an old ox that had laboured for me. + +However that may be, his temperance was wonderful. When governor of +Sardinia, where his predecessors had put the province to great expense, +he did not even use a carriage, but walked from town to town with +one attendant. He was inexorable in everything that concerned public +justice. He proved himself a brave general in the field; and when +he became censor, which was the highest dignity of the republic, he +waged an uncompromising campaign against luxury, by means of an almost +prohibitive tax on the expenditure of ostentatious superfluity. His +style in speaking was at once humorous, familiar, and forcible, and +many of his wise and pregnant sayings are remembered. + +When we compare Aristides and Cato, we are at once struck by many +resemblances; and examining the several parts of their lives +distinctly, as we examine a poem or a picture, we find that they both +rose to great honour without the help of family connections, and merely +by their own virtue and abilities. Both of them were equally victorious +in war; but in politics Aristides was less successful, being banished +by the faction of Themistocles; while Cato, though his antagonists +were the most powerful men in Rome, kept his footing to the end like a +skilled wrestler. + +Again, Cato was no less attentive to the management of his domestic +affairs than he was to affairs of state, and not only increased his own +fortune, but became a guide to others in finance and in agriculture. +But Aristides, by his indigence, brought disgrace upon justice itself, +as if it were the ruin and impoverishment of families; it is even said +that he left not enough for the portions of his daughters nor for the +expenses of his own funeral. So Cato's family produced praetors and +consuls to the fourth generation; but of the descendants of Aristides +some were conjurors and paupers, and not one of them had a sentiment +worthy of his illustrious ancestor. + + +_III.--Demosthenes and Cicero_ + +That these two great orators were originally formed by nature in the +same mould is shown by the similarity of their dispositions. They had +the same ambition, the same love of liberty, and the same timidity +in war and danger. Their fortunes also were similar; both raised +themselves from obscure beginnings to authority and power; both opposed +kings and tyrants; both of them were banished, then returned with +honour, were forced to fly again, and were taken by their enemies; and +with both of them expired the liberties of their countries. + +Demosthenes, while a weakly child of seven years, lost his father, and +his fortune was dissipated by unworthy guardians. But his ambition +was fired in early years by hearing the pleadings of the orator +Callistratus, and by noting the honours which attended success in that +profession. He at once applied himself to the practice of declamation, +and studied rhetoric under Isaeus; and as soon as he came of age he +appeared at the Bar in the prosecution of his guardians for their +embezzlements. Though successful in this claim, Demosthenes had much to +learn, and his earlier speeches provoked the amusement of his audience. +His manner was at once violent and confused, his voice weak and +stammering, and his delivery breathless; but these faults were overcome +by an arduous and protracted course of exercise in the subterraneous +study which he had built, where he would remain for two or three months +together. He corrected the stammering by speaking with pebbles in his +mouth; strengthened his voice by running uphill and declaiming while +still unbreathed; and his attitude and gestures were studied before a +mirror. + +Demosthenes was rarely heard to speak extempore, and though the people +called upon him in the assembly, he would sit silent unless he had come +prepared. He wrote a great part, if not the whole, of each oration +beforehand, so that it was objected that his arguments "smelled of the +lamp"; yet, on exceptional occasions, he would speak unprepared, and +then as if from a supernatural impulse. + +His nature was vindictive and his resentment implacable. He was never +a time-server in word or in action, and he maintained to the end the +political standpoint with which he had begun. The glorious object of +his ambition was the defence of the cause of Greece against Philip; +and most of his orations, including these Philippics, are written +upon the principle that the right and worthy course is to be chosen +for its own sake. He does not exhort his countrymen to that which is +most agreeable, or easy, or advantageous, but to that which is most +honourable. If, besides this noble ambition of his and the lofty tone +of his orations, he had been gifted also with warlike courage and had +kept his hands clean from bribes, Demosthenes would have deserved to be +numbered with Cimon, Thucydides, and Pericles. + +Cicero's wonderful genius came to light even in his school-days; he +had the capacity and inclination to learn all the arts, but was most +inclined to poetry, and the time came when he was reputed the best +poet as well as the greatest orator in Rome. After a training in law +and some experience of the wars, he retired to a life of philosophic +study, but being persuaded to appear in the courts for Roscius, who was +unjustly charged with the murder of his father, Cicero immediately made +his reputation as an orator. + +His health was weak; he could eat but little, and that only late in +the day; his voice was harsh, loud, and ill regulated; but, like +Demosthenes, he was able by assiduous practice to modulate his +enunciation to a full, sonorous, and sweet tone, and his studies under +the leading rhetoricians of Greece and Asia perfected his eloquence. + +His diligence, justice, and moderation were evidenced by his conduct +in public offices, as quaestor, praetor, and then as consul. In his +attack on Catiline's conspiracy, he showed the Romans what charms +eloquence can add to truth, and that justice is invincible when +properly supported. But his immoderate love of praise interrupted his +best designs, and he made himself obnoxious to many by continually +magnifying himself. + +Demosthenes, by concentrating all his powers on the single art of +speaking, became unrivalled in the power, grandeur, and accuracy of +his eloquence. Cicero's studies had a wider range; he strove to excel +not only as an orator, but as a philosopher and a scholar also. Their +difference of temperament is reflected in their styles. Demosthenes is +always grave and serious, an austere man of thought; Cicero, on the +other hand, loves his jest, and is sometimes playful to the point of +buffoonery. The Greek orator never touches upon his own praise except +with some great point in view, and then does it modestly and without +offence; the Roman does not seek to hide his intemperate vanity. + +Both of these men had high political abilities; but while the former +held no public office, and lies under the suspicion of having at times +sold his talent to the highest bidder, the latter ruled provinces as a +pro-consul at a time when avarice reigned unbridled, and became known +only for his humanity and his contempt of money. + + + + +MADAME DE STAEL + +On Germany + + Madame de Stael's book "On Germany" (De l'Allemagne) was finished + in 1810. The manuscript was passed by the censor, and partly + printed, when the whole impression was seized by the order of the + Emperor and destroyed. Madame de Stael herself escaped secretly, + and came eventually to London, where, in 1813, the work was + published. She did not long survive the fall of her tremendous + enemy, Napoleon, but died in her beloved Paris on July 14, 1817. + When it is considered that "On Germany" was written by other + than an inhabitant of the country, and that Madame de Stael did + not travel far beyond her own residences at Mainz, Frankfort, + Berlin, and Vienna, the work may be reckoned the most remarkable + performance of its kind in literature or biography (Mme. de + Stael, biography: see Vol. VIII, p. 89). + + +_I.--Germany, Its People and Customs_ + +The multitude and extent of the forests indicate a still new +civilisation. Germany still shows traces of uninhabited nature. It is +a sad country, and time is needed to discover what there is to love in +it. The ruined castles on the hills, the narrow windows of the houses, +the long stretches of snow in winter, the silence of nature and men, +all contribute towards the sadness. Yet the country and its inhabitants +are interesting and poetical. You feel that human souls and imagination +have embellished this land. + +The only remarkable monuments in Germany are the Gothic ones which +recall the age of chivalry. Modern German architecture is not worth +mentioning, but the towns are well built, and the people try to make +their houses look as cheerful and pleasing as possible. The gardens +in some parts of Germany are almost as beautiful as in England, which +denotes love of nature. Often, in the midst of the superb gardens of +the German princes, aeolian harps are placed; the breezes waft sound +and scent at once. Thus northern imagination tries to construct Italian +nature. + +The Germans are generally sincere and faithful; they scarcely ever +break their word and are strangers to deception. Power of work and +thought is another of their national traits. They are naturally +literary and philosophical, but their pride of class affects in some +ways their _esprit_ adversely. The nobles are lacking in ideas, and +the men of letters know too little about business. The Germans have +imagination rather than _esprit_. + +The town dwellers and the country folk, the soldiers and the +workmen, nearly all have some knowledge of music. I have been to +some poor houses, blackened with tobacco smoke, and not only the +mistress, but also the master of the house, improvise on the piano, +just as the Italians improvise in verse. Instrumental music is as +generally fostered in Germany as vocal music is in Italy. Italy has +the advantage, because instrumental music requires work, whilst the +southern sky suffices to produce beautiful voices. + +Peasant women and servants, who are too poor to put on finery, decorate +their hair with a few flowers, so that imagination may at least enter +into their attire. + +One is constantly struck in Germany with the contrast between sentiment +and custom, between talent and taste; civilisation and nature do not +seem to have properly amalgamated yet. Enthusiasm for art and poetry +goes with very vulgar habits in social life. Nothing could be more +bizarre than the combination of the warlike aspect of Germany, where +soldiers are met at every step, with the indoor life led by the people. +There is a dread of fatigue and change of air, as if the nation were +composed only of shopkeepers and men of letters; and yet all the +institutions tend towards giving the nation military habits. + +Stoves, beer, and tobacco-smoke crate around the German people a kind +of heavy and hot atmosphere which they do not like to leave. This +atmosphere is injurious to activity, which is at least as necessary +in war as in courage; resolutions are slow, discouragement is easy, +because a generally sad existence does not engender much confidence in +fortune. + +Three motive powers lead men to fight: love of the fatherland and +of liberty, love of glory, and religious fanaticism. There is not +much love of the fatherland in an Empire that has been divided for +centuries, where Germans fought against Germans; love of glory is not +very lively where there is no centre, no capital, no society. The +Germans are much more apt to get roused by abstract ideas than by the +interests of life. + +The love of liberty is not developed with the Germans; they have learnt +neither by enjoyment, nor by privation, the prize that may be attached +to it. The very independence enjoyed by Germany in all respects made +the Germans indifferent to liberty; independence is a possession, +liberty a guarantee, and just because nobody was crossed in Germany +either in his rights or in his pleasures, nobody felt the need for an +order of things that would maintain this happiness. + +The Germans, with few exceptions, are scarcely capable of succeeding +in anything that requires cleverness and skill; everything troubles +them, makes them nervous, and they need method in action as well as +independence in thought. + +German women have a charm of their own, a touching quality of voice, +fair hair, and brilliant complexion; they are modest, but not as shy +as the English. One can see that they have often met men who were +superior to them, and that they have less cause to fear the severity of +public judgment. They try to please by their sensibility, and to arouse +interest by the imagination. The language of poetry and of the fine +arts is known to them; they flirt with enthusiasm, just as one flirts +in France with _esprit_ and wit. + +Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetic religion, which willingly +tolerates all that may be excused by sensibility. The facility of +divorce in the Protestant provinces certainly affects the sanctity of +marriage. Husbands are changed as peacefully as if it were merely a +question of arranging the incidents of a play. The good-nature of men +and women prevents any bitterness entering these easy ruptures. + +Some German women are ever in a state of exaltation that amounts to +affectation, and the sweet expressions of which efface whatever there +may be piquant or pronounced in their mind and character. They are not +frank, and yet not false either; but they see and judge nothing with +truth, and the real events pass before their eyes like phantasmagoria. + +But these women are the exception. Many German women have true +sentiment and simple manners. Their careful education and natural +purity of soul renders their dominion gentle and moderate; every day +they inspire you with increased interest for all that is great and +noble, with increased confidence in every kind of hope. What is rare +among German women is real _esprit_ and quick repartee. Conversation, +as a talent, exists only in France; in other countries it only serves +for polite intercourse, for discussion and for friendship; in France it +is an art. + + +_II.--On Southern Germany and Austria_ + +Franconia, Suabia, and Bavaria were, before the foundation of the +Munich Academy, strangely heavy and monotonous countries; no arts +except music, little literature; an accent that did not lend itself +well to the pronunciation of the Latin languages, no society; great +parties that resembled ceremonies rather than amusement; obsequious +politeness towards an unelegant aristocracy; kindness and loyalty in +all classes, but a certain smiling stiffness which is neither ease nor +dignity. In a country where society counts for nothing, and nature for +little, only the literary towns can be really interesting. + +A temperate climate is not favourable for poetry. Where the climate +is neither severe nor beautiful, one lives without fearing or hoping +anything from heaven, and one only takes interest in the positive facts +of existence. Southern Germany, temperate in every respect, keeps up a +state of monotonous well-being which is as bad for business activity as +it is for the activity of the mind. The keenest wish of the inhabitants +of that peaceful and fertile country is to continue the same existence. +And what can one do with that one desire? It is not even enough to +preserve that with which one is contented. + +There are many excellent things in Austria, but few really superior +men, because in that country it is not much use to excel one's +neighbour; one is not envied for it, but forgotten, which is still more +discouraging. Ambition turns in the direction of obtaining good posts. + +Austria, embracing so many different peoples, Bohemians, Hungarians, +etc., has not the unity necessary for a monarchy. Yet the great +moderation of the heads of the state has for a long time constituted a +strong link. + +Industry, good living and domestic pleasures are Austria's principal +interests. In spite of the glory she gained by the perseverance and +valour of her troops, the military spirit has really never got hold of +all classes of the nation. + +In a country where every movement is difficult, and where everything +inspires tranquility, the slightest obstacle is an excuse for complete +idleness of action and thought. One might say that this is real +happiness; but does happiness consist of the faculties which one +develops, or of those which one chokes? + +Vienna is situated in a plain amid picturesque hills. It is an old +town, very small, but surrounded by very spacious suburbs. It is said +that the city proper within the fortifications is no larger than it +was when Richard Coeur-de-Lion was put into prison not far from its +gates. The streets are as narrow as in Italy; the palaces recall a +little those of Florence; in fine, nothing here resembles the rest of +Germany except a few Gothic buildings, which bring back the Middle Ages +to the imagination. First among these is the tower of St. Stephen's, +around which somehow centres the whole history of Austria. No building +can be as patriotic as a church--the only one in which all classes of +the population meet, the only one which recalls not only the public +events, but also the secret thoughts, the intimate affections which the +rulers and the citizens have brought within its precincts. + +Every great city has some building, or promenade, some work of art +or nature, to which the recollections of childhood are attached. It +seems to me that the _Prater_ should have this charm for the Viennese. +No other city can match this splendid promenade through woods and +deer-stocked meadows. The daily promenade at a fixed hour is an Italian +custom. Such regularity would be impossible in a country where the +pleasures are as varied as in Paris; but the Viennese could never do +without it. Society folk in their carriages and the people on their +feet assemble here every evening. It is in the Prater that one is most +struck with the easy life and the prosperity of the Viennese. Vienna +has the uncontested reputation of consuming more food than any other +equally populous city. You can see whole families of citizens and +artisans starting for the Prater at five o'clock for a rustic meal as +substantial as dinner in any other country, and the money they are able +to spend on it proves their industry and kindly rule. + +At night thousands of people return, without disorder, without +quarrel. You can scarcely hear a voice, so silently do they take their +pleasures. It is not due to sadness, but to laziness and physical +well-being. Society is here with magnificent horses and carriages. +Their whole amusement is to recognise in a Prater avenue the friends +they have just left in a drawing-room. The emperor and his brothers +take their place in the long row of carriages, and prefer to be +considered just as ordinary private people. They only use their rights +when they are performing their duties. You never see a beggar: the +charity institutions are admirably managed. And there are very few +mortal crimes in Austria. Everything in this country bears the impress +of a paternal, wise, and religious government. + + +_III.--On the German Language_ + +Germany is better suited for prose than for poetry, and the prose is +better written than spoken; it is an excellent instrument if you wish +to describe or to say everything; but you cannot playfully pass from +subject to subject as you can in French. If you would adapt the German +words to the French style of conversation you would rob them altogether +of grace and dignity. The merit of the Germans is to fill their time +well; the talent of the French is to make us forget time. + +Although the sense of German sentences is frequently only revealed at +the very end, the construction does not always permit to close a phrase +with the most piquant expression, which is one of the great means to +make conversation effective. You rarely hear among the Germans what +is known as a _bon-mot_; you have to admire the thought and not the +brilliant way in which it is expressed. + +Brilliant expression is considered a kind of charlatanism by +the Germans, who take to abstract expression because it is more +conscientious and approaches more closely to the very essence of +truth. But conversation ought not to cause any trouble either to the +listener or to the speaker. As soon as conversation in Germany departs +from the ordinary interests of life it becomes too metaphysical; +there is nothing between the common and the sublime; and it is just +this intermediate region that is the proper sphere for the art of +conversation. + + +WEIMAR + +Of all the German principalities, Weimar makes one best realise the +advantages of a small country, if the ruler is a man of fine intellect +who may try to please his subjects without losing their obedience. The +Duchess Louise of Saxe-Weimar is the true model of a woman destined +for high rank. The duke's military talents are highly esteemed; his +conversation is pointed and well considered; his intellect and his +mother's have attracted the most distinguished men of letters to +Weimar. Germany had for the first time a literary capital. + +Herder had just died when I arrived at Weimar, but Wieland, Goethe, +and Schiller were still there. They can be judged from their works, +for their books bear a striking resemblance to their character and +conversation. + +Life in small towns has never appealed to me. Man's intellect seems to +become narrow and woman's heart cold. One feels oppressed by the close +proximity of one's equals. All the actions of your life are minutely +examined in detail, until the ensemble of your character is no longer +understood. And the more your spirit is independent and elevated, the +less you can breathe within the narrow confines. This disagreeable +discomfort did not exist at Weimar, which was not a little town, but a +large castle. A chosen circle took a lively interest in every new art +production. Imagination, constantly stimulated by the conversation of +the poets, felt less need for those outside distractions which lighten +the burden of existence but often dissipates its forces. Weimar has +been called the Athens of Germany, and rightly so. It was the only +place where interest in the fine arts was, so to speak, rational and +served as fraternal link between the different ranks. + + +_IV.--Prussia_ + +To know Prussia, one has to study the character of Frederick II. A man +has created this empire which had not been favoured by nature, and +which has only become a power because a soldier has been its master. +There are two distinct men in Frederick II.: a German by nature, and a +Frenchman by education. All that the German did in a German kingdom has +left lasting traces; all that the Frenchman tried has been fruitless. + +Frederick's great misfortune was that he had not enough respect +for religion and customs. His tastes were cynical. Frederick, in +liberating his subjects of what he called prejudices, stifled in +them their patriotism, for in order to get attached to a naturally +sombre and sterile country one must be ruled by very stern opinions +and principles. Frederick's predilection for war may be excused on +political grounds. His realm, as he took it over from his father, could +not exist, and aggrandisement was necessary for its preservation. He +had two and a half million subjects when he ascended the throne, and he +left six millions on his death. + +One of his greatest wrongs was his share in the division of Poland. +Silesia was acquired by force of arms. Poland by Macchiavellian +conquest, "and one could never hope that subjects thus robbed should be +faithful to the juggler who called himself their sovereign." + +Frederick II. wanted French literature to rule alone in his country, +and had no consideration for German literature, which, no doubt, was +then not as remarkable as it is to-day; but a German prince should +encourage all that is German. Frederick wanted to make Berlin resemble +Paris, and he flattered himself to have found among the French +refugees some writers of sufficient distinction to have a French +literature. Such hope was bound to be deceptive. Artificial culture +never prospers; a few individuals may fight against the natural +difficulties, but the masses will always follow their natural leaning. +Frederick did a real wrong to his country when he professed to despise +German genius. + + +BERLIN + +Berlin is a large town, with wide, long, straight streets, beautiful +houses, and an orderly aspect; but as it has only recently been +rebuilt, it contains nothing to recall the past. No Gothic monument +exists among the modern dwellings, and this newly-formed country is in +no way interfered with by the past. But modern Berlin, with all its +beauty, does not impress me seriously. It tells nothing of the history +of the country or the character of its inhabitants; and these beautiful +new houses seem to be destined only for the comfortable gatherings of +business or industry. The most beautiful palaces of Berlin are built of +brick. Prussia's capital resembles Prussia herself; its buildings and +institutions have the age of one generation, and no more, because one +man alone is their creator. + + + + +THE "GERMANIA" OF TACITUS + +Customs and Peoples of Germany + + "Germania," the full title of which is "Concerning the Geography, + the Manners and Customs, and the Peoples of Germany," consists + of forty-six sections, the first twenty-seven describing the + characteristics of the peoples, their customs, beliefs, and + institutions; the remaining nineteen dealing with the individual + peculiarities of each separate tribe. As a record of the Teutonic + tribes, written purely from an ethical and rhetorical standpoint, + the work is of the utmost importance, and, on the whole, is + regarded as trustworthy. Its weak point is its geography, details + of which Tacitus (see Vol. XI, p. 156) no doubt gathered from + hearsay. The main object of the work was not so much to compose + a history of Germany, as to draw a comparison between the + independence of the Northern peoples and the corrupt civilisation + of contemporary Roman life. Possibly, also, Tacitus intended to + sound a note of alarm. + + +_I.--Germany and the German Tribes_ + +The whole of Germany is thus bounded. It is separated from Gaul, +Rhaetia, and Pannonia by the rivers Rhine and Danube; from Sarmatia and +Dacia by mutual fear, or by high mountains; the rest is encompassed by +the ocean, which forms vast bays and contains many large islands. The +Rhine, rising from a rocky summit in the Rhaetian Alps, winds westward, +and is lost in the northern ocean. The Danube, issuing from Mount +Abnoba, traverses several countries and finally falls into the Euxine. + +I believe that the population is indigenous to Germany, and that the +nation is free from foreign admixture. They affirm Germany to be a +recent word, lately bestowed on those who first passed the Rhine and +repulsed the Gauls. From one tribe the whole nation has thus been +named. They cherish a tradition that Hercules had been in their +country, and him they extol in their battle songs. Some are of opinion +that Ulysses also, during his long wanderings, was carried into this +ocean and entered Germany, and that he founded the city Asciburgium, +which stands at this day upon the bank of the Rhine. Such traditions I +purpose myself neither to confirm nor to refute; but I agree with those +who maintain that the Germans have never intermingled by marriages with +other nations, but have remained a pure, independent people, resembling +none but themselves. + +With whatever differences in various districts, their territory mainly +consists of gloomy forests or insalubrious marshes, lower and more +humid towards Gaul, more hilly and bleak towards Noricum and Pannonia. +The soil is suited to the production of grain, but less so for the +cultivation of fruits. Flocks and herds abound, but the cattle are +somewhat small. Their herds are their most valued possessions. Silver +and gold the gods have denied them, whether in mercy or in wrath I +cannot determine. Nor is iron plentiful with them, as may be judged +from their weapons. Swords or long spears they rarely use, for they +fight chiefly with javelins and shields. Their strength lies mainly in +their foot, and such is the swiftness of the infantry that it can suit +and match the motions and engagements of the cavalry. + +Generals are chosen for their courage, kings are elected through +distinction of race. The power of the rulers is not unlimited or +arbitrary, and the generals secure obedience mainly by force of the +example of their own enterprise and bravery. + +Therefore, when going on a campaign, they carry with them sacred images +taken from the sacred groves. It is their custom also to flock to the +field of war not merely in battalions, but with whole families and +tribes of relations. Thus, close to the scene of conflict are lodged +the most cherished pledges of nature, and the cries of wives and +infants are heard mingling with the echoes of battle. Their wounds +and injuries they carry to their mothers and wives, and the women +administer food and encouragement to their husbands and sons even while +these are engaged in fighting. + + +_II.--Customs of Government and War_ + +Mercury is the god most generally worshipped. To him at certain times +it is lawful to offer even human sacrifices. Hercules, Mars, and Isis +are also recognised as deities. From the majesty of celestial beings, +the Germans judge it to be unsuitable to hold their shrines within +walls, or to represent them under any human likeness. They therefore +consecrate whole woods and groves, and on these sylvan retreats they +bestow the names of the deities, thus beholding the divinities only in +contemplation and mental reverence. + +Although the chiefs regulate affairs of minor import, the whole nation +deliberates concerning matters of higher consequence, the chiefs +afterwards discussing the public decision. The assemblies gather +leisurely, for sometimes many do not arrive for two or three days. The +priests enjoin silence, and on them is devolved the prerogative of +correction. The chiefs are heard according to precedence, or age, or +nobility, or warlike celebrity, or eloquence. Ability to persuade has +more influence than authority to command. Inarticulate murmurs express +displeasure at a proposition, pleasure is indicated by the brandishing +of javelins and the clashing of arms. + +Punishments vary with the character of crime. Traitors and deserters +are hanged on trees; cowards, sluggards, and vicious women are +smothered in bogs. Fines, to be paid in horses or cattle, are exacted +for lighter offences, part of the mulct being awarded to the party +wronged, part to the chief. + +The Germans transact no business without carrying arms, but no man +thus bears weapons till the community has tested his capacity to +wield them. When the public approval has been signified, the youth is +invested in the midst of the assembly by his father or other relative +with a shield and javelin. + +Their chief distinction is to be constantly surrounded by a great +band of select young men, for their honour in peace and their help in +warfare. + +In battle it is disgraceful to a chief to be surpassed in feats of +bravery, and it is an indelible reproach to his followers to return +alive from a conflict in which their prince has been slain. The chief +fights for victory, his followers fight for him. The Germans are so +restless that they cannot endure repose, and thus many of the young +men of rank, if their own tribe is tranquil, quit it for a community +which happens to be engaged in war. In place of pay the retainers are +supplied with daily repasts, grossly prepared, but always profuse. + + +_III.--Domestic Customs of the Germans_ + +Intervals of peace are not much devoted to the chase by the Germans, +but rather to indolence, to sleep, and to feasting. Many surrender +themselves entirely to sloth and gluttony, the cares of house, lands, +and possessions being left to the wives. It is an astonishing paradox +that in the same men should co-exist so much delight in idleness and so +great a repugnance to tranquil life. + +The Germans do not dwell in cities, and endure no contiguity in their +abodes, inhabiting spots distinct and apart, just as they fancy, +a fountain, a grove, or a field. Their villages consist of houses +arranged in opposite rows, not joined together as are ours. Each is +detached, with space around, and mortar and tiles are unknown. Many, in +winter, retreat to holes dug in the ground, to which they convey their +grain. + +The laws of matrimony are strictly observed, and polygamy is rarely +practised among the Germans. The dowry is not brought by the wife, +but by the husband. Conjugal infidelity is exceedingly rare, and is +instantly punished. In all families the children are reared without +clothing, and thus grow into those physical proportions which are so +wonderful to look upon. They are invariably suckled by their mothers, +never being entrusted to nursemaids. The young people do not hasten to +marry, and thus the robust vigour of the parents is inherited by their +offspring. + +No nation was ever more noted for hospitality. It is esteemed inhuman +to refuse to admit to the home any stranger whatever. Every comer is +willingly received and generously feasted. Hosts and guests delight in +exchanging gifts. To continue drinking night and day is no reproach +to any man. Quarrels through inebriety are very frequent, and these +often result in injuries and in fatalities. But likewise, in these +convivial feasts they usually deliberate about effecting reconciliation +between those who are at enmity, and also about forming affinities, the +election of chiefs, and peace and war. + +Slaves gained in gambling with dice are exchanged in commerce to +remove the shame of such victories. Of their other slaves each has a +dwelling of his own, his lord treating him like a tenant, exacting +from him an amount of grain, or cattle, or cloth. Thus their slaves +are not subservient as are ours. For they do not perform services in +the households of their masters, these duties falling to the wives and +children of the family. Slaves are rarely seen in chains or punished +with stripes, though in the heat of passion they may sometimes be +killed. + +Usury and borrowing at interest are unknown. The families every year +shift on the spacious plains, cultivating fresh allotments of the +soil. Only corn is grown, for there is no inclination to expend toil +proportionate to the capacity of the lands by planting orchards, or +enclosing meadows, or watering gardens. + +Their funerals are not ostentatious, neither apparel nor perfumes being +accumulated on the pile, though the arms of the deceased are thrown +into the fire. Little demonstration is made in weeping or wailing, but +the grief endures long. So much concerning the customs of the whole +German nation. + + +_IV.--Tribes of the West and North_ + +I shall now describe the institutions of the several tribes, as they +differ from one another, giving also an account of those who from +thence removed, migrating to Gaul. That the Gauls were more powerful +in former times is shown by that prince of authors, the deified Julius +Caesar. Hence it is probable that they have passed into Germany. + +The region between the Hercynian forest and the rivers Maine and Rhine +was occupied by the Helvetians, as was that beyond it by the Boians, +both Gallic tribes. The Treveri and Nervii fervently aspire to the +reputation of descent from the Germans, and the Vangiones, Triboci, and +Nemetes, all dwelling by the Rhine, are certainly all Germans. The Ubii +are ashamed of their origin and delight to be called Agrippinenses, +after the name of the founder of the Roman colony which they were +judged worthy of being constituted. + +The Batavi are the bravest of all these nations. They inhabit a little +territory by the Rhine, but possess an island on it. Becoming willingly +part of the Roman empire, they are free from all impositions and pay no +tribute, but are reserved wholly for wars, precisely like a magazine of +weapons and armour. In the same position are the Mattiaci, living on +the opposite banks and enjoying a settlement and limits of their own, +while they are in spirit and inclination attached to us. + +Beginning at the Hercynian forest are the Catti, a robust and vigorous +people, possessed also of much sense and ability. They are not only +singularly brave, but are more skilled in the true art of war than +other Germans. + +Near the Catti were formerly dwelling the Bructeri, in whose stead are +now settled the Chamani and the Angrivarii, by whom the Bructeri were +expelled and almost exterminated, to the benefit of us Romans. May the +gods perpetuate among these nations their mutual hatred, since fortune +befriends our empire by sowing strife amongst our foes! + +The country of the Frisii, facing that of the Angrivarii and the +Chamani, is divided into two sections, called the greater and the +lesser, which both extend along the Rhine to the ocean. + +Hitherto I have been describing Germany towards the west. Northward it +stretches with an immense compass. The great tribe of the Chauci occupy +the whole region between the districts of the Frisii and of the Catti. +These Chauci are the noblest people of all the Germans. They prefer to +maintain their greatness by justice rather than by violence, seeking to +live in tranquillity, and to avoid quarrels with others. + +By the side of the Chauci and the Catti dwell the Cherusci, a people +who have degenerated in both influence and character. Finding no +enemy to stimulate them, they were enfeebled by too lasting a peace, +and whereas they were formerly styled good and upright, they are now +called cowards and fools, having been subdued by the Catti. In the same +winding tract live the Cimbri, close to the sea, a tribe now small in +numbers but great in fame for many monuments of their old renown. It +was in the 610th year of Rome, Caecilius Metellus and Papirius Carbo +being consuls, that the first mention was made of the arms of the +Cimbri. From that date to the second consulship of the Emperor Trajan +comprehends an interval of nearly 210 years; so long a period has our +conquest of Germany occupied. In so great an interval many have been +the disasters on both sides. + +Indeed, not from the Samnites, or from the Carthaginians, or from the +people of Spain, or from all the tribes of Gaul, or even from the +Parthians, have we received more checks or encountered more alarms. For +the passion of the Germans for liberty is more indomitable than that of +the Arsacidae. What has the power of the East to lay to our dishonour? +But the overthrow and abasement of Crassus, and the loss by the Romans +of five great armies, all commanded by consuls, have to be laid to the +account of the Germans. By the Germans, also, even the Emperor Augustus +was deprived of Varus and three legions. + +Only with great difficulty and the loss of many men were the Germans +defeated by Caius Marius in Italy, or by the deified Julius Caesar +in Gaul, or by Drusus, or Tiberius, or Germanicus in their native +territories. And next, the strenuous menaces of Caligula against these +foes ended in mockery and ridicule. Afterwards, for a season they were +quiet, till, tempted to take advantage of our domestic schisms and +civil wars, they stormed and seized the winter entrenchments of our +legions, and attempted the conquest of Gaul. Though they were once more +repulsed, our success was rather a triumph than an overwhelming victory. + + +_V.--The Great Nation of the Suevi_ + +Next I must refer to the Suevi, who are not, like the Catti, a +homogeneous people, but are divided into several tribes, all bearing +distinct names, although they likewise are called by the generic title +of Suevi. They occupy the larger part of Germany. From other Germans +they are distinguished by their peculiar fashion of twisting their +hair into a knot, this also marking the difference between the freemen +and their slaves. Of all the tribes of the Suevi, the Semnones esteem +themselves to be the most ancient and the noblest, their faith in +their antiquity being confirmed by the mysteries of their religion. +Annually in a sacred grove the deputies of each family clan assemble to +repeat the rites practised by their ancestors. The horrible ceremonies +commence with the sacrifice of a man. Their tradition is that at this +spot the nation originated, and that here the supreme deity resides. +The Semnones inhabit a hundred towns, and by their superior numbers and +authority dominate the rest of the Suevi. + +On the contrary, the Langobardi are ennobled by the paucity of their +number, for, though surrounded by powerful tribes, they assert +their superiority by their valour and skill instead of displaying +obsequiousness. Next come the Reudigni, the Aviones, the Angli, the +Varini, the Eudoses, the Suardones and the Nuithones, all defended by +rivers or forests. + +These are marked by no special characteristics, excepting the common +worship of the goddess Nerthum, or Mother Earth, of whom they believe +that she not only intervenes in human affairs, but also visits the +nations. In a certain island of the sea is a wood called Castum. Here +is kept a chariot sacred to the goddess, covered with a curtain, and +permitted to be touched only by her priest, who perceives her whenever +she enters the holy vehicle, and with deepest veneration attends the +motion of the chariot, which is always drawn by yoked cows. Till the +same priests re-conducts the goddess to her shrine, after she has grown +weary of intercourse with mortals, feasts and games are held with great +rejoicings, no arms are touched, and none go to war. Slaves wash the +chariot and curtains in a sacred lake, and, if you will believe it, the +goddess herself; and forthwith these unfortunate beings are doomed to +be swallowed up in the same lake. + +This portion of the Suevian territory stretches to the centre of +Germany. Next adjoining is the district of the Hermunduri (I am now +following the course of the Danube as I previously did that of the +Rhine), a tribe faithful to the Romans. To them, accordingly, alone +of all the Germans, is commerce permitted. They travel everywhere at +their own discretion. When to others we show nothing more than our arms +and our encampments, to this people we open our houses, as to men who +are not longing to possess them. The Elbe rises in the territory of the +Hermunduri. + + +_VI.--The Tribes of the Frontier_ + +Near the Hermunduri reside the Narisci, and next the Marcomanni and +the Quadi, the former being the more famed for strength and bravery, +for it was by force that they acquired their location, expelling from +it the Boii. Now, here is, as it were, the frontier of Germany, as far +as it is washed by the Danube. Not less powerful are several tribes +whose territories enclose the lands of those just named--the Marsigni, +the Gothini, the Osi, and the Burii. The Marsigni in speech and dress +resemble the Suevi; but as the Gothini speak Gallic, and the Osi the +Pannonian language, and as they endure the imposition of tribute, it is +manifest that neither of these peoples are Germans. + +Upon them, as aliens, tribute is imposed, partly by the Sarmatae, partly +by the Quadi, and, to deepen their disgrace, the Gothini are forced +to labour in the iron mines. Little level country is possessed by all +these several tribes, for they are located among mountainous forest +regions, Suevia being parted by a continuous range of mountains, beyond +which live many nations. Of these, the most numerous and widely spread +are the Lygii. Among others, the most powerful are the Arii, the +Helveconae, the Manimi, the Elysii, and the Naharvali. + +The Arii are the most numerous, and also the fiercest of the tribes +just enumerated. They carry black shields, paint their bodies black, +and choose dark nights for engaging in battle. The ghastly aspect of +their army strikes terror into their foes, for in all battles the +eyes are vanquished first. Beyond the Lygii dwell the Gothones, ruled +by a king, and thus held in stricter subjection than the other German +tribes, yet not so that their liberties are extinguished. Immediately +adjacent are the Rugii and the Lemovii, dwelling by the coast. The +characteristic of both is the use of a round shield and a short sword. + +Next are the Suiones, a seafaring community with very powerful fleets. +The ships differ in form from ours in possessing prows at each end, +so as to be always ready to row to shore without turning. They are +not propelled by sails, and have no benches of oars at the sides. The +rowers ply in all parts of the ship alike, and change their oars from +place to place according as the course is shifted hither and thither. +Great homage is paid among them to wealth; they are governed by a +single chief, who exacts implicit obedience. Arms are not used by these +people indiscriminately, as by other German tribes. Weapons are shut up +under the care of a slave. The reason is that the ocean always protects +the Suiones from their foes, and also that armed bands, when not +employed, grow easily demoralised. + +Beyond the Suiones is another sea, dense and calm. It is thought that +by this the whole globe is bounded, for the reflection of the sun, +after his setting, continues till he rises, and that so radiantly as to +obscure the stars. Popular opinion even adds that the tumult is heard +of his emerging from the ocean, and that at sunrise forms divine are +seen, and also the rays about his head. Only thus far extend the limits +of Nature, if what fame reports be true. + +The AEstii reside on the right of the Suevian Sea. Their dress and +customs resemble those of the Suevi, but the language is akin to that +of Britain. They worship the Mother of gods, and wear images of boars, +without any weapons, superstitiously trusting the goddess and the +images to safeguard them. But they cultivate the soil with much greater +zeal than is usual with Germans, and they even search the ocean, and +are the only people who gather amber, which they find in the shallows +and along the shore. It lay long neglected till it gained value from +our luxury. + +Bordering on the Suiones are the Sitones, agreeing with them in all +things excepting that they are governed by a woman. So emphatically +have they degenerated, not merely from liberty, but even below a +condition of bondage. Here end the territories of the Suevi. Whether +I ought to include the Peucini, the Venedi, and the Fenni among the +Sarmatae or the Germani I cannot determine, although the Peucini speak +the same language with the Germani, dress, build, and live like them, +and resemble them in dirt and sloth. + +What further accounts we have are fabulous, and these I leave +untouched. + + + + +HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE + +History of English Literature + + Two years before the appearance of his "Histoire de la + Litterature Anglaise" Taine had aroused a lively interest in + England by his "Notes sur l'Angleterre," a work showing much + wayward sympathy for the English character, and an irregular + understanding of English institutions. The same mixed impression + was produced by the laboriously conceived and brilliantly + written "History of English Literature." Taine (see Vol. XXIV, + p. 177) wrote to a theory that often worked out into curious + contradictions. His method was to show how men have been shaped + by the environments and tendencies of their age. Unfortunately, + having formed an idea of the kind of literature our age should + produce according to his theory, he had eyes for nothing + except what he expected to find. He went to literature for his + confirmations of his reading of history. Taine's criticism, + in consequence, is often incomplete, and more piquant than + trustworthy. The failure to appreciate some of the great English + writers--notably Shakespeare and Milton--is patent. Still, the + critic always had the will to be just, and no foreigner has + devoted such complimentary labour to the formation of a complete + estimate of English literature. The book was published in 1863-4. + + +_Saxon and Norman_ + +History has been revolutionised by the study of literatures. A work +of literature is now perceived, not to be a solitary caprice, but a +transcript of contemporary manners, from which we may read the style +of man's feelings for centuries back. By the study of a literature, +one may construct a moral history, the psychology of a people. To find +a complete literature is rare. Only ancient Greece, and modern France +and England offer a complete series of great literary monuments. I +have chosen England because it is alive, and one can see it with more +detachment than one can see France. + +Huge white bodies, cool-blooded, with fierce blue eyes, reddish flaxen +hair; ravenous stomachs filled with meat and cheese and heated by +strong drinks; a cold temperament, slow to love, home-staying, prone +to drunkenness--these are to this day the features which descent +and climate preserve to the English race. The heavy human brute +gluts himself with sensations and noise, and this appetite finds a +grazing-ground in blows and battle. Strife for strife's sake such is +their pleasure. A race so constituted was predisposed to Christianity +by its gloom, and beyond Christianity foreign culture could not graft +any fruitful branch on this barbarous stock. The Norman conquerors of +France had by intermarriage become a Latin race, and nimbly educated +themselves from the Gauls, who boasted of "talking with ease." When +they crossed to England, they introduced new manners and a new spirit. +They taught the Saxon how ideas fall in order, and which ideas are +agreeable; they taught him how to be clear, amusing, and pungent. At +length, after long impotence of Norman literature, which was content to +copy, and of Saxon literature, which bore no fruit, a definite language +was attained, and there was room for a great writer. + + +_Chaucer_ + +Then Geoffrey Chaucer appeared, inventive though a disciple, original +though a translator, and by his genius, education, and life was +enabled to know and depict a whole world, but above all to satisfy the +chivalric world and the splendid courts which shone upon the heights. +He belonged to it, and took such part in it that his life from end to +end was that of a man of the world and a man of action. + +Two motives raised the middle age above the chaos of barbarism, one +religious, which fashioned the gigantic cathedrals, the other secular, +which built the feudal fortresses. The one produced the adventurous +hero, the other the mystical monk. These master-passions gave way at +last to monotony of habit and taste for worldliness. Something was then +needed to make the evening hours flow sweetly. The lords at table have +finished dinner; the poet arrives; they ask him for his subject, and he +answers "Love." + +There is something more pleasant than a fine narrative, and that is a +collection of fine narratives, especially when the narratives are all +of different colouring. This collection Chaucer gave us, and more. If +over-excited, he is always graceful, polished, full of light banter, +half-mockeries, somewhat gossipy. An elegant speaker, facile, every +ready to smile, he makes of love not a passion but a gay feast. But if +he was romantic and gay after the fashion of his age, he also had a +fashion of his own. He observes characters, notes their differences, +studies the coherence of their parts, brings forward living and +distinct persons--a thing unheard of in his time. It is the English +positive good sense and aptitude for seeing the inside of things +beginning to appear. Chaucer ceases to gossip, and thinks. Each tale is +suited to the teller. Instead of surrendering himself to the facility +of glowing improvisation, he plans. All his tales are bound together by +veritable incidents which spring from the characters of the personages, +and are such as we light upon in our travels. He advanced beyond the +threshold of his art, but he paused in the vestibule. He half-opens +the door of the temple, but does not take his seat there; at most he +sat down at intervals. His voice is like that of a boy breaking into +manhood. He sets out as if to quit the middle ages; but in the end he +is still there. + + +_The Renaissance_ + +For seventeen centuries a deep and sad thought had weighed upon +the spirit of man--the idea of his impotence and decadence. Greek +corruption, Roman oppression, and the dissolution of the old world had +given it birth; it, in its turn, had produced a stoical resignation, +an epicurean indifference, Alexandrian mysticism, and the Christian +hope in the Kingdom of God. At last invention makes another start. All +was renewed, America and the Indies were added to the map. The system +of the universe was propounded, the experimental sciences were set +on foot, art and literature shot forth like a harvest, and religion +was transformed. It seems as though men had suddenly opened their +eyes and seen. They attained a new and superior kind of intelligence +which produced extraordinary warmth of soul, a super-abundant and +splendid imagination, reveries, visions, artists, believers, founders, +creators. This was Europe's grand age, and the most notable epoch +of human growth. To this day we live from its sap. To vent the +feelings, to set free boldly on all the roads of existence the pack +of appetites and instincts, this was the craving which the manners of +the time betrayed. It was "merry England," as they called it then. +It was not yet stern and constrained. It extended widely, freely, +and rejoiced to find itself so expanded. A few sectarians, chiefly +in the towns, clung gloomily to the Bible; but the Court, and the +men of the world sought their teachers and their heroes from Pagan +Greece and Rome. Nearer still was another Paganism, that of Italy, +and civilisation was drawn thence as from a spring. Transplanted into +different races and climates, this paganism received from each a +distinct character--in England it becomes English. Here Surrey--the +English Petrarch--introduced a new style, a manly style, which marks +a great transformation of the mind. He looks forward to the last line +while writing the first, and keeps the strongest word for the last. +He collects his phrases in harmonious periods, and by his inversions +adds force to his ideas. Every epithet contains an idea, every metaphor +a sentiment. Those who have ideas now possess in the new-born art an +instrument capable of expressing them. In half a century English +writers had introduced every artifice of language, period, and style. + +Luxuriance and irregularity were the two features of the new +literature. Sir Philip Sydney may be selected as exhibiting the +greatness and the folly of the prevailing taste. How can his pastoral +epic, "The Arcadia," be described? It is but a recreation, a poetical +romance written in the country for the amusement of a sister, a work +of fashion, a relic, but it shows the best of the general spirit, +the jargon of the world of culture, fantastic imagination, excessive +sentiment, a medley of events which suited men scarcely recovered from +barbarism. At his period men's heads were full of tragical images, +and Sydney's "Arcadia" contains enough of them to supply half a dozen +epics. And Sydney was only a soldier in an army; there is a multitude +about him, a multitude of poets. How happens it that when this +generation was exhausted true poetry ended in England as true painting +in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the mind came and +passed away. These men had new ideas and no theories in their heads. +Their emotions were not the same as ours. For them all things had a +soul, and though they had no more beauty then than now, men found them +more beautiful. + + +_Spenser_ + +Among all the poems of this time there is one truly divine--Spenser's +"Faerie Queene." Everything in his life was calculated to lead Spenser +to ideal poetry; but the heart within is the true poet. Before all, +his was a soul captivated by sublime and chaste beauty. Philosophy and +landscapes, ceremonies and ornaments, splendours of the country and +the court, on all which he painted or thought he impressed his inward +nobleness. Spenser remains calm in the fervour of invention. He is +epic, that is, a narrator. No modern is more like Homer. Like Homer, +he is always simple and clear; he makes no leap, he omits no argument, +he preserves the natural sequence of ideas while presenting noble +classical images. Like Homer, again, he is redundant, ingenuous: even +childish. He says everything, and repeats without limit his ornamental +epithets. + +To expand in epic faculties in the region where his soul is naturally +borne, he requires an ideal stage, situated beyond the bounds of +reality, in a world which could never be. His most genuine sentiments +are fairy-like. Magic is the mould of his mind. He carries everything +that he looks upon into an enchanted land. Only the world of chivalry +could have furnished materials for so elevated a fancy. It is the +beauty in the poet's heart which his whole works try to express, a +noble yet laughing beauty, English in sentiment, Italian in externals, +chivalric in subject, representing a unique epoch, the appearance of +Paganism in a Christian race, and the worship of form by an imagination +of the North. + +Among the prose writers of the Pagan renaissance, two may be singled +out as characteristic, namely, Robert Burton--an ecclesiastic and +university recluse who dabbled in all the sciences, was gifted with +enthusiasm and spasmodically gay, but as a rule sad and morose, and +according to circumstances a poet, an eccentric, a humorist, a madman, +or a Puritan--and Francis Bacon, the most comprehensive, sensible, +originative mind of the age; a great and luminous intellect. After more +than two centuries it is still to Bacon that we go to discover the +theory of what we are attempting and doing. + + +_The Theatre_ + +The theatre was a special product of the English Renaissance. If ever +there was a living and natural work, it is here. There were already +seven theatres in Shakespeare's time, so great and universal was the +taste for representations. The inborn instincts of the people had not +been tamed, nor muzzled, nor diminished. We hear from the stage as from +the history of the times, the fierce murmur of all the passions. Not +one of them was lacking. The poets who established the drama, carried +in themselves the sentiments which the drama represents. Greene, +Marlowe, and the rest, were ill-regulated, passionate, outrageously +vehement and audacious. The drama is found in Marlowe as the plant in +the seed, and Marlowe was a primitive man, the slave of his passions, +the sport of his dreams. Shakespeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Jonson, +Webster, Massinger, Ford, appear close upon each other, a new and +favoured generation, flourishing in the soil fertilised by the efforts +of the generation which preceded them. The characters they produced +were such as either excite terror by their violence, or pity by their +grace. Passion ravages all around when their tragic figures are on the +stage; and contrasted with them is a troop of sweet and timid figures, +tender before everything, and the most loveworthy it has been given to +man to depict. The men are warlike, imperious, unpolished; the women +have sweetness, devotion, patience, inextinguishable affection--a thing +unknown in distant lands, and in France especially. With these women +love becomes almost a holy thing. They aim not at pleasure but at +devotion. When a new civilisation brings a new art to light there are +about a dozen men of talent who express the general idea surrounding +one or two men of genius who express it thoroughly. The first +constitute the chorus, the others the leaders. The leaders in this +movement are Shakespeare and Ben Jonson. + +Ben Jonson was a genuine Englishman, big and coarsely framed, +combative, proud, often morose, prone to strain splenitic imaginations. +His knowledge was vast. In an age of great scholars he is one of +the best classics of his time. Other poets for the most part are +visionaries; Jonson is all but a logician. Whatever he undertakes, +whatever be his faults, haughtiness, rough-handling, predilection +for morality and the past, he is never little or commonplace. Nearly +all his work consists of comedies, not sentimental and fanciful as +Shakespeare's, but satirical, written to represent and correct follies +and vices. Even when he grew old his imagination remained abundant and +fresh. He is the brother of Shakespeare. + + +_Shakespeare_ + +Only this great age could have cradled such a child as Shakespeare. +What soul! What extent of action, and what sovereignty of an unique +faculty! What diverse creations, and what persistence of the same +impress! Look now. Do you not see the poet behind the crowd of his +creations? They have all shown somewhat of him. Ready, impetuous, +impassioned, delicate, his genius is pure imagination, touched +more vividly and by slighter things than ours. Hence, his style, +blooming with exuberant images, loaded with exaggerated metaphors. An +extraordinary species of mind, all-powerful, excessive, equally master +of the sublime and the base, the most creative that ever engaged in the +exact copy of the details of actual existence, in the dazzling caprice +of fancy, in the profound complications of superhuman passions; a +nature inspired, superior to reason, extreme in joy and pain, abrupt of +gait, stormy and impetuous in its transports! + +Shakespeare images with copiousness and excess; he spreads metaphors +profusely over all he writes; it is a series of painting which is +unfolded in his mind, picture on picture, image on image, he is forever +copying the strange and splendid visions which are heaped up within +him. Such an imagination must needs be vehement. Every metaphor is a +convulsion. Shakespeare's style is a compound of curious impressions. +He never sees things tranquilly. Like a fiery and powerful horse, he +bounds but cannot run. He flies, we creep. He is obscure and original +beyond all the poets of his or any other age--the most immoderate of +all violaters of language, the most marvellous of all creators of +souls. The critic is lost in Shakespeare as in an immense town. He can +only describe a few monuments and entreat the reader to imagine the +city. + + +_The Christian Renaissance_ + +Following the pagan came the Christian Renaissance born of the +Reformation, a new birth in harmony with the genius of the Germanic +peoples. It must be admitted that the Reformation entered England by a +side door. It was established when Henry VIII. permitted the English +Bible to be published. England had her book. Hence have sprung much +of the English language and half of the English manners; to this day +the country is Biblical. After the Bible the book most widely-read +in England is the Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. It is a manual +of devotion for the use of simple folk. In it we hear a man of the +people speaking to the people, who would render intelligible to all +the terrible doctrine of damnation and salvation. Allegory is natural +to Bunyan. He employs it from necessity. He only grasps truth when +it is made simple by images. His work is allegorical, that it may +be intelligible. Bunyan is a poet because he is a child. He has the +freedom, the tone, the ease, the clearness of Homer; he is as close +to Homer as an Anabaptist tinker could be to a heroic singer. He and +Milton survived as the two last poets of the Reformation, oppressed +and insulted, but their work continues without noise, for the ideal +they raised was, after all, that which the time suggested and the race +demanded. + + +_Milton_ + +John Milton was not one of those fevered souls whose rapture takes them +by fits, and whose inquietude condemns them to paint the contradictions +of passion. His mind was lucid, his imagination limited. He does not +create souls but constructs arguments. Emotions and arguments are +arranged beneath a unique sentiment, that of the sublime, and the broad +river of lyric poetry streams from him with even flow, splendid as a +cloth of gold. + +Against external fluctuations he found a refuge in himself; and the +ideal city which he had built in his soul endured impregnable to all +assaults. He believed in the sublime with the whole force of his +nature, and the whole authority of his logic. When after a generous +education he returned from his travels he threw himself into the strife +of the times heartily, armed with logic, indignation and learning, +and protected by conviction and conscience. I have before me the +formidable volume in which his prose works were collected. What a book! +The chairs creak when you place it upon them. How we cannot fix our +attention on the same point for a page at a time. We require manageable +ideas; we have disused the big two-handed sword of our forefathers. +If Michael Angelo's prophets could speak, it would be in Milton's +style. Overloaded with ornaments, infinitely prolonged, these periods +are triumphant choruses of angelic Alleluias sung by deep voices to +the accompaniment of ten thousand harps of gold. But is he truly a +prose-writer? Entangled dialectics, a heavy and awkward mind, fanatical +and ferocious provincialism, the blast and temerities of implacable +passion, the sublimity of religious and lyric exaltation--we do not +recognize in these features a man born to explain, persuade, and prove. + +As a poet Milton wrote not by impulse but like a man of letters with +the assistance of books, seeing objects as much through previous +writings as in themselves, adding to his images the images of others, +borrowing and recasting their inventions. He made thus for himself +a composite and brilliant style, less natural than that of his +precursors, less fit for effusions, less akin to the lively first +glow of sensation, but more solid, more regular, more capable of +concentrating in one large patch of light all their sparklings and +splendours. He compacted and ennobled the poets' domain. + +When, however, after seventeen years of fighting and misfortune had +steeped his soul in religious ideas, mythology yielded to theology, +the habit of discussion subdued the lyric light. The poet no longer +sings sublime verse, he harangues in grave verse, he gives us correct +solemn discourses. Adam and Eve the first pair! I listen and hear two +reasoners of the period--Colonel Hutchinson and his wife. Heavens! +dress them at once. Folks so cultivated should have invented before all +a pair of trousers and modesty. This Adam enters Paradise via England. +There he learnt respectability and moral speechifying. Adam was your +true _pater familias_ with a vote, an old Oxford man, consulted at +need by his wife, and dealing out to her with prudent measure the +scientific explanations which she requires. The flow of dissertations +never pauses. From Paradise it gets into Heaven. Milton's Jehovah is a +grave king who maintains a suitable state something like Charles I. The +finest thing in connection with Paradise is Hell; and in this history +of God, the chief part is taken by the devil. No poetic creation equals +in horror and grandeur the spectacle that greeted Satan on leaving his +dungeon. + +But what a heaven! One would rather enter Charles I's troops of +lackeys, or Cromwell's Ironsides. What a gap between this monarchical +frippery and the visions of Dante! To the poet of the Apocalypse the +voice of the deity was "as the sound of many waters; and he had in +his right hand seven stars; and his countenance was as the sun shining +in his strength; and when I saw him I fell at his feet as dead." When +Milton arranged his celestial show, he did not fall at his feet as dead. + +When we take in, in one view, the vast literary region of England, +extending from the restoration of the Stuarts to the French Revolution, +we perceive that all the productions bear a classical impress, such as +is met with neither in the preceding nor in the succeeding time. This +classical art finds its centre in the labours of Pope, and above all in +Pope, whose favourite author is Dryden, of all English poets the least +inspired and the most classical. Pope gave himself up to versification. +He did not write because he thought, but he thought in order to write. +I wish I could admire his works of imagination, but I cannot. I know +the machinery. There is, however, a poet in Pope, and to discover +him we have only to read him in fragments. Each verse in Pope is a +masterpiece if taken alone. There is a classical architecture of ideas, +and of all the masters who have practised it in England Pope is the +most skilled. + + +_The Modern Spirit_ + +The spirit of the modern revolution broke out first in a Scotch +peasant, Robert Burns. Scarcely ever was seen together more of misery +and talent. Burns cries out in favour of instinct and joy. Love was his +main business. In him for the first time a poet spoke as men speak, or, +rather, as they think, without premeditation, with a mixture of all +styles. Burns was much in advance of his age, and the life of men in +advance of their age is not wholesome. He died worn out at 37. In him +old narrow moralities give place to the wide sympathy of the modern man. + +Now appeared the English romantic school. Among the multitude of its +writers we may distinguish Southey, a clever man, a producer of +decorative poems to suit the fashion; Coleridge, a poor fellow who had +steeped himself in mystical theories; Thomas More, a witty railer; and +Walter Scott, the favourite of his age, who was read over the whole +of Europe, was almost equal to Shakespeare, had more popularity than +Voltaire, earned about L200,000, and taught us all history. Scott gave +to Scotland a citizenship of literature. Scott loves men from the +bottom of his heart. By his fundamental honesty and wide humanity he +was the Homer of modern life. + +When the philosophical spirit passed from Germany to England, +transformed itself and became Anglican, deformed itself and became +revolutionary, it produced a Wordsworth, a Byron, a Shelley. +Wordsworth, a new Cowper, with less talent and more ideas, was +essentially an interior man, engrossed by the concerns of the soul. To +such men life becomes a grave business on which we must incessantly and +scrupulously reflect. Wordsworth was a wise and happy man, a thinker +and dreamer, who read and walked and listened in deep calm to his own +thoughts. The peace was so great within him and around him that he +could perceive the imperceptible. He saw grandeur and beauty in the +trivial events which weave the woof of our most commonplace days. +His "Excursion" is like a Protestant temple--august though bare and +monstrous. + +Shelley, one of the greatest poets of the age, beautiful as an angel, +of extraordinary precocity, sweet, generous, tender, overflowing +with gifts of heart, mind, birth, and fortune, marred his life by +introducing into his conduct the enthusiastic imagination he should +have kept for his verse. His world is beyond our own. We move in it +between heaven and earth, in abstraction, dreamland, symbolism. Shelley +loved desert and solitary places, where man enjoys the pleasure of +believing infinite what he sees--infinite as his soul. Verily there +is a soul in everything; in the universe is a soul; even beyond the +sensible form shines a secret essence and something divine which we +catch sight of by sublime illuminations, never reaching or penetrating +it. The poets hear the great heart of nature beat; they would reach it. +One alone, Byron, succeeds. + +I have reserved for the last the greatest and most English artist, from +whom we may learn more truths of his country and of his age than from +all the rest. All styles appear dull, and all souls sluggish by the +side of Byron's. No such great poet has had so narrow an imagination. +They are his own sorrows, his own revolts, his own travels, which, +hardly transformed and modified, he introduces into his verses. He +never could make a poem save of his own heart. If Goethe was the poet +of the universe, Byron was the poet of the individual; and if the +German genius found its interpretation in the one, the English genius +found its interpretation in the other. + + + + +HENRY DAVID THOREAU + +"Walden" + + Henry David Thoreau, America's poet-naturalist, as he might + be called, was born at Concord, Mass., on July 12, 1817. His + great-grandparents were natives of the Channel Islands, whence + his grandfather emigrated. Thoreau was educated at Hartford, and + began work as a teacher, but under the influence of Emerson, in + whose house he lived at intervals, made writing his hobby and a + study of the outdoor world his occupation. In 1845, as related + in "Walden," he built himself a shanty near Walden Pond, on land + belonging to Emerson. There he busied himself with writing his + "Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers," and in recording his + observations in the woods. After the Walden experiment he mingled + the pursuit of literature and the doing of odd jobs for a living. + His books, "The Maine Woods," "A Yankee in Canada," "Excursions + in Field and Wood," were mostly published after his death. He + died on May 6, 1862, from consumption. Emerson, Hawthorne, and + Alcott were his warm friends in life, and helped the world + to appreciate his genius. A poet in heart, Thoreau was only + successful in giving his poetry a prose setting, but that setting + is harmonised with the utmost delicacy. No one has produced more + beautiful effects in English prose with simpler words. + + +_The Simple Life_ + +When I wrote the following pages, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile +from any neighbour, in a house I had built for myself, on the shore of +Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the +labour of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At +present I am a sojourner in civilized life again. + +Men labour under a mistake. By a seeming fate, commonly called +necessity, they are employed laying up treasures which moth and rust +will corrupt. It is a fool's life, as they will find when they get to +the end of it if not before. + +But it is never too late to give up our prejudices. What old people say +you cannot do, you try and find that you can. I have lived some thirty +years and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable advice from +my seniors. + +To many creatures, there is but one necessity of life--food. None of +the brute creation require more than food and shelter. The necessaries +of life for man in this climate may be distributed under the several +heads of food, shelter, clothing, and fuel. I find by my own experience +a few implements, a knife, an axe, a spade, a wheelbarrow, etc., and +for the studious, lamplight, stationery, and access to a few books, +rank next to necessaries, and can all be obtained at a trifling cost. +Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, +are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind. None can be an +impartial or wise observer of human life but from the vantage ground of +voluntary poverty. + + +_Ideals_ + +If I should attempt to tell how I have desired to spend my life in +years past it would probably astonish those who know nothing about it. + +I long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle dove, and am still +on their trail. Many are the travellers I have spoken, concerning them, +describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. I have met one +or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even +seen the dove disappear behind a cloud, and they seemed as anxious to +recover them as if they had lost them themselves. + +How many mornings, summer and winter, before any neighbour was stirring +about his business, have I been about mine! So many autumn, aye, and +winter days, spent outside the town trying to hear what was in the +wind, to hear and carry it. At other times waiting at evening on the +hill-tops for the sky to fall that I might catch something, though I +never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again in the +sun. + +For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow storms and rain +storms, and did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then +of forest paths. I looked after the wild stock of the town. I have +watered the red huckleberry, the sand cherry and the nettle tree, the +red pine and the black ash, the white grape and the yellow violet, +which might have withered else in dry seasons. + +My purpose in going to Walden Pond was not to live cheaply nor to live +dearly there, but to transact some private business with the fewest +obstacles. + + +_House Building_ + +When I consider my neighbours, the farmers of Concord, I find that for +the most part they have been toiling twenty, thirty, or forty years, +that they may become the real owners of their farms; and we may regard +one-third of that toil as the cost of their houses. And when the farmer +has got his house he may not be the richer but the poorer for it, and +it be the house that has got him. The very simplicity and nakedness +of men's life in the primitive ages imply that they left him still +a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep he +contemplated his journey again. He dwelt as it were in the tent of this +world. We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on +earth and forgotten Heaven. + +Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an axe and went down to the +woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, +and began to cut down some tall, arrowy, white pines, still in their +youth, for timber. It was a pleasant hillside where I worked, covered +with pine woods, through which I looked out on the pond, and a small +open field in the woods where pines and hickories were springing up. +Before I had done I was more the friend than the foe of the pine tree, +having become better acquainted with it. + +By the middle of April my house was framed and ready for raising. +At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of +my acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for +neighbourliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my +house. I began to occupy it on the 4th of July, as soon as it was +boarded and roofed, for the boards were carefully feather-edged and +lapped, so that it was perfectly impervious to rain, but before +boarding I laid the foundation of a chimney. I built the chimney after +my hoeing in the fall, before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing +my cooking in the meantime out of doors on the ground, early in the +morning. When it stormed before my bread was baked I fixed a few boards +over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and passed some +pleasant hours in that way. + +The exact cost of my house, not counting the work, all of which was +done by myself, was just over twenty-eight dollars. I thus found that +the student who wishes for a shelter can obtain one for a lifetime at +an expense not greater than the rent which he now pays annually. + + +_Farming_ + +Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by +some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual expenses, +I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil near it, +chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn, peas, +and turnips. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the ploughing, +though I held the plough myself. My farm outgoes for the first season +were, for employment, seed, work, etc., 14 dollars 72-1/2 cents. I got +twelve bushels of beans and eighteen bushels of potatoes, besides some +peas and sweet corn. My whole income from the farm was 23 dollars 43 +cents, a profit of 8 dollars 71-1/2 cents, besides produce consumed. + +The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land that I +required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience +of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on +husbandry, that if one would live simply and eat only the crop which he +raised, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of ground, and that +it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen to plough it, and +he could do all his necessary farm work, as it were, with his left hand +at odd hours in the summer. + +My food for nearly two years was rye and Indian meal without yeast, +potatoes, rice, a very little salt pork, molasses and salt, and my +drink water. I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost +incredibly little trouble to obtain one's necessary food even in this +latitude, and that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals and +yet retain health and strength. + +Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes, +which I baked before my fire out of doors, but at last I found a +mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. I made a +study of the ancient and indispensable art of bread-making, going back +to the primitive days. Leaven, which some deem to be the soul of bread, +I discovered was not indispensable. + +Thus I found I could avoid all trade and barter, so far as my food was +concerned, and having a shelter already, it would only remain to get +clothing and fuel. My furniture, part of which I made myself, consisted +of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a looking-glass, three inches +in diameter, a pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle, a skillet, and a +frying pan, a dipper, a wash bowl, two knives and forks, three plates, +one cup, one spoon, a jug for oil, a jug for molasses, and a japanned +lamp. When I have met an immigrant tottering under a bundle which +contained his all, I have pitied him, not because it was his all, but +because he had all that to carry. + + +_Earning a Living_ + +For more than five years I maintained myself solely by the labour of +my hands, and I found that by working for about six weeks in the year +I could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as +well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have +thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were out of +proportion to my income, for I was obliged to dress and train, not to +say think and believe accordingly; and I lost my time into the bargain. +I have tried trade; but I have learned that trade curses everything +it handles; and though you trade in messages from Heaven, the whole +curse of trade attaches to the business. I found that the occupation of +day-labourer was the most independent of any, especially as it required +only thirty or forty days in the year to support me. The labourer's +day ends with the going down of the sun, and he is then free to devote +himself to his chosen pursuit, independent of his labour; but his +employer, who speculates from month to month, has no respite from one +end of the year to the other. + +But all this is very selfish, I have heard some of my townsmen say. +I confess that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic +enterprises. However, when I thought to indulge myself in this respect +by maintaining certain poor persons as comfortably as I maintain +myself, and even ventured so far as to make them the offer, they one +and all unhesitatingly preferred to remain poor. + + +_The Life with Nature_ + +When I took up my abode in the woods I found myself suddenly neighbour +to the birds, not by having imprisoned one, but having caged myself +near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly +frequent the garden and orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling +songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager. + +Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal +simplicity, and I may say, innocence, with Nature herself. I have been +as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks. Morning brings back +the heroic ages. Then, for an hour at least, some part of us awakes +which slumbers all the rest of the day and night. + +Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? As for work, we +haven't any of any consequence. We have the Saint Vitus' dance, and +cannot possibly keep our heads still. Hardly a man takes a half hour's +nap after dinner, but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks: +"What's the news?" as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels. +"Pray tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on this +globe." And he reads over his coffee and rolls that a man has had his +eyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito River, never dreaming the +while that he lives in the dark, unfathomed mammoth cave of this world, +and has but the rudiment of an eye himself. + +Let us spend our day as deliberately as Nature. Let us rise early and +fast, or break fast, gently and without perturbation. Let us not be +upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a +dinner situated in the meridian shadows. + +Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I +drink I see the sandy bottom, and detect how shallow it is. Its thin +current glides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper, fish +in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. + + +_Reading_ + +My residence was more favourable, not only to thought but to serious +reading, than a university; and though I was beyond the range of the +morning circulating library I had more than ever come within the +influence of those books which circulate round the world. I kept +Homer's "Iliad" on my table through the summer, though I looked at his +pages only now and then. To read well--that is to read true books in +a true spirit--is a noble exercise and one that will task the reader +more than any exercise which the customs of the day esteem. Books must +be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written. No wonder +that Alexander carried the "Iliad" with him on his expeditions in a +precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics. + + +_In the Sun_ + +I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans. Nay, I often did +better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice +the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or +hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes on a summer morning, +having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise +till noon, rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and +sumachs in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang +around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling +in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's waggon on the +distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those +seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work +of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my +life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. I realised what +the Orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. Instead +of singing like the birds I silently smiled at my incessant good +fortune. This was sheer idleness to my fellow townsmen, no doubt, but +if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard I should not +have been found wanting. + + +_Night Sounds_ + +Regularly at half past seven, in one part of the summer, the +whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on +a stump by my door, or upon the ridge pole of the house. When other +birds were still the screech owls took up the strain, like mourning +women their ancient u-lu-lu. Wise midnight hags! I love to hear their +wailing, their doleful responses, trilled along the woodside. They give +me a new sense of the variety and capacity of that nature which is our +common dwelling. _Oh-o-o-o-o that I had never been bor-r-r-r-n_! sighs +one on this side of the pond, and circles, with the restlessness of +despair to some new perch on the gray oaks. Then: _That I had never +been bor-r-r-r-n_! echoes another on the further side with tremulous +sincerity, and _bor-r-r-r-n_! comes faintly from far in the Lincoln +woods. I require that there are owls. They represent the stark twilight +and unsatisfied thoughts which all have. + +I am not sure that ever I heard the sound of cock crowing from my +clearing, and I thought that it might be worth the while to keep a +cockerel for his music merely, as a singing bird. The note of this once +wild Indian pheasant is certainly the most remarkable of any bird's, +and if they could be naturalised without being domesticated it would +soon become the most famous sound in our woods. + +I kept neither dog, cat, cow, pig, nor hens, so that you would have +said there was a deficiency of domestic sounds, neither the churn nor +the spinning wheel, nor even the singing of the kettle, nor the hissing +of the urn, nor children crying, to comfort me; only squirrels on the +roof, a whip-poor-will on the ridge pole, a bluejay screaming beneath +the window, a woodchuck under the house, a laughing loon on the pond, +and a fox to bark in the night. + +This is a delicious evening, when the whole body is one sense and +imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange +liberty in Nature, a part of herself. Sympathy with the fluttering +alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath; yet, like the +lake, my serenity is rippled, but not ruffled. Though it is now dark +the wind still blows and roars in the woods, the waves still dash, and +some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never +complete. The wildest animals do not repose but seek their prey now. +They are Nature's watchmen--links which connect the days of animated +life. + +I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. I never +found the companion that was never so companionable as solitude. A man +thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. I am +no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud. God is +alone, but the devil, he is far from being alone; he sees a great deal +of company; he is legion. I am no more lonely than a single dandelion +in a pasture, or a humble bee, or the North Star, or the first spider +in a new house. + + +_Visitors_ + +In my house I have three chairs: one for solitude, two for friendship, +three for society. My best room, however--my withdrawing room--always +ready for company, was the pine wood behind my house. Thither in Summer +days, when distinguished guests came, I took them, and a priceless +domestic swept the floor and kept the things in order. + +I could not but notice some of the peculiarities of my visitors. Girls +and boys, and young women generally, seemed glad to be in the woods. +They looked in the pond and at the flowers, and improved their time. +Men of business, even farmers, thought only of solitude and employment, +and of the great distance at which I dwelt from something or other; and +though they said that they loved a ramble in the woods occasionally, it +was obvious that they did not. Restless, committed men, whose time was +all taken up in getting a living, or keeping it, ministers, who spoke +of God as if they enjoyed a monopoly of the subject, and who could not +bear all kinds of opinions, doctors, lawyers, and uneasy housekeepers, +who pried into my cupboard and bed when I was out, young men who had +ceased to be young, and had concluded that it was safest to follow the +beaten track of the professions--all these generally said that it was +not possible to do as much good in my position. + + +_Interference_ + +After hoeing, or perhaps reading and writing in the forenoon, I usually +bathed again in the pond, washed the dust of labour from my person, +and for the afternoon was absolutely free. Every day or two I strolled +to the village. As I walked in the woods to see the birds and the +squirrels, so I walked in the village to see the men and the boys. +Instead of the wind among the pines I heard the carts rattle. + +One afternoon near the end of the first summer, when I went to the +village to get a shoe from the cobbler's, I was seized and put into +jail, because I did not pay a tax to, or recognise the authority +of, the State. I had gone down to the woods for other purposes. But +wherever a man goes men will pursue and paw him with their dirty +institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their +desperate Odd Fellows society. However, I was released the next day, +obtained my mended shoe, and returned to the woods in season to get my +dinner of huckleberries on Fair Haven Hill. I was never molested by +any person but those who represented the State. I had no lock nor bolt +but for the desk which held my papers, not even a nail to put over my +latch or window. I never fastened my door night or day, and though I +was absent several days my house was more respected than if it had been +surrounded by a file of soldiers. + + +_Exhausted Experience_ + +I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it +seemed to me that I had several more lives to live and could not spare +any more time for that one. It is remarkable how easily and insensibly +we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves. +I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door +to the pond side, and though it is five or six years since I trod it, +it is still quite distinct. So with the paths which the mind travels. +How worn and dusty then must be the highways of the world--how deep +the ruts of tradition and conformity. I learned this, at least by my +experiment, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his +dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will +meet with a success unexpected in common hours. In proportion as he +simplifies his life the laws of the Universe will appear less complex, +and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness +weakness. + + + + +ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE + +Democracy in America + + Alexis de Tocqueville (see Vol. XII, p. 117), being commissioned + at the age of twenty-six to investigate and report on American + prisons, made use of his residence in the United States to + gain a thorough insight into the political institutions and + social conditions of the great Republic. The results of his + observations and reflections were given to the world in 1835, + in the two famous volumes _De la Democratie en Amerique_, which + were followed in 1840 by a third and fourth volume under the + same title. As an analysis of American political institutions De + Tocqueville's work has been superseded by Mr. Bryce's admirable + study of the same subject; but as one of the great classics of + political philosophy it can never be superseded, and has rarely + been rivalled. With all a Frenchman's simplicity and lucidity + he traces the manifold results of the democratic spirit; though + sometimes an excessive ingenuity, which is also French, leads + him to over-speculative conclusions. The work was received with + universal applause. + + +_I.--Equality_ + +The most striking impression which I received during my residence in +the United States was that of the equality which reigns there. This +equality gives a peculiar character to public opinion and to the +laws of that country, and influences the entire structure of society +in the most profound degree. Realising that equality, or democracy, +was rapidly advancing in the Old World also, I determined to make a +thorough study of democratic principles and of their consequences, as +they are revealed in the western continent. + +We have only to review the history of European countries from the +days of feudalism, to understand that the development of equality is +one of the great designs of Providence; inasmuch as it is universal, +inevitable, and lasting, and that every event and every individual +contributes to its advancement. + +It is impossible to believe that a social movement which has proceeded +so far as this movement towards equality has done, can be arrested +by human efforts, or that the democracy which has bearded kings and +barons can be successfully resisted by a wealthy bourgeoisie. We know +not whither we are moving; we only know that greater equality is found +to-day among Christian populations than has been known before in any +age or in any country. + +I confess to a kind of religious terror in the presence of this +irresistible revolution, which has defied every obstacle for the +last ten centuries. A new political science is awaited by a world +which is wholly new; but the most immediate duties of the statesman +are to instruct the democracy, if possible to revive its beliefs, to +purify its morals, to enlighten its inexperience by some knowledge of +political principles, and to substitute for the blind instincts which +sway it, the consciousness of its true interests. + +In the Old World, and in France especially, the more powerful, +intelligent, and moralised classes have held themselves apart from +democracy, and the latter has, therefore, been abandoned to its own +savage instincts. The democratic revolution has permeated the whole +substance of society, without those concomitant changes in laws, ideas, +habits, and manners which ought to have embodied and clothed it. So +it is that we indeed have democracy, but without those features which +should have mitigated its vices and liberated its advantages. The +prestige of royal power is gone, without being replaced by the majesty +of law, and our people despise authority as much as they fear it. Our +poor have the prejudices of their fathers without their beliefs, their +ignorance, without their virtues; they have taken self-interest for +a principle without knowing what their interests are. Our society is +tranquil, not in the consciousness of strength and of well-being, +but a sense of decrepitude and despair. That is why I have studied +America, in order that we may ourselves profit by her example. I have +no intention of writing a panegyric on the United States. I have seen +more in America than America herself; I have sought a revelation of +Democracy, with all its characters and tendencies, its prejudices and +its passions. + + +_II.--Religion and Liberty_ + +Our first consideration is of great importance, and must never be +lost sight of. The Anglo-American civilisation which we find in the +United States is the product of two perfectly distinct elements, which +elsewhere are often at war with one another, but have here been merged +and combined in the most wonderful way; I mean the spirit of religion +and the spirit of liberty. The founders of New England were at the same +time ardent secretaries and enthusiastic radicals; they were bound +by the narrowest religious beliefs, but were free from all political +prejudice. + +Thus arose two tendencies which we may trace everywhere in American +manners, as well as in their lives. All political principles, laws, +and human institutions seem to have become plastic in the hands of the +early colonists. The bonds which fettered the society in which they had +been born fell from their limbs; ancient opinions which had dominated +the world for ages simply disappeared; a new career opened for the +human race; a world without horizons was before them, and they exulted +in liberty. But outside the limits of the political world, they made no +ventures of this kind. They abjured doubt, renounced their desire for +innovation, left untouched the veil of the sanctuary, and knelt with +awe before the truths of religion. + +So, in their world of morals, everything was already classed, +arranged, foreseen, and determined; but in their world of politics, +everything was agitated, debated, and uncertain. In the former they +were ruled by a voluntary obedience, but in all political affairs they +were inspired by independence, contempt for experience, and jealous of +every authority. + +Far from impeding one another, these two tendencies, which appear so +radically opposed, actually harmonise and seem even to support each +other. Religion sees in civil liberty a noble field for the exercise +of human faculties. Free and powerful in her own sphere, and satisfied +with the part reserved for her, she knows that her sovereignty is all +the more securely established when she depends only on her own strength +and is founded in the hearts of men. And liberty, on the other hand, +recognises in religion the comrade of its struggles and triumphs, +the cradle of its rights. It knows that religion is the safeguard of +morals, and that morals are the safeguard of the laws, and the judge of +the continuance of liberty itself. + + +_III.--Omnipotence of the Majority_ + +The greatest danger to liberty in America lies in the omnipotence of +the majority. A democratic power is never likely to perish for lack +of strength or of resources, but it may very well fall because of +the misdirection of its strength and the abuse of its resources. If +ever liberty is lost in America, it will be due to an oppression of +minorities which may drive them to an appeal to arms. The anarchy which +must then result will be due only to despotism. + +This danger has not escaped the notice of American statesmen. Thus, +President James Madison said, "It is of great importance to republics, +not only that society should be defended from the oppression of +those who govern it, but also that one section of society should be +protected against the injustice of another section; for justice is the +end towards which all government must be directed." Again, Jefferson +said that "The tyranny of legislators is at present, and will be for +many years, our most formidable danger. The tyranny of the executive +will arise in its turn, but at a more distant period." Jefferson's +words are of great importance, for I consider him to have been the most +powerful apostle that democracy has ever had. + +But there are certain factors in the United States which moderate +this tyranny of the majority. Chief among these is the absence of any +administrative centralisation; so that the majority, which has often +the tastes and instincts of a despot, lacks the instruments and the +means of tyranny. The local administrative bodies constitute so many +reefs and breakwaters to retard or divide the stream of the popular +will. + +Not less important, as a counterpoise to the danger of democracy, is +the strong legal spirit which pervades the United States. Lawyers have +great influence and authority in matters of government. But lawyers +are strongly imbued with the tasks and habits of mind which are most +characteristic of aristocracy; they have an instinctive liking for +forms and for order, a native distaste for the will of the multitude, +and a secret contempt for popular government. Of course, their own +personal interest may and often does over-ride this professional +bias. But lawyers will always be, on the whole, friends of order and +of precedent, and enemies of change. And in America, where there are +neither nobles nor able political writers, and where the people are +suspicious of the wealthy, the lawyers do, in fact, form the most +powerful order in politics, and the most intellectual class of society. +They therefore stand to lose by any innovation, and their conservative +tendency is reinforced by their interests as a class. + +A third safeguard against the tyranny of the majority is to be found +in the institution of a jury. Almost everyone is called at one time +or another to sit on a jury, and thus learns at least something of +the judicial spirit. The civil jury has saved English freedom in past +times, and may be expected to maintain American liberties also. It is +true that there are many cases, and those often the most important, +in which the American judge pronounces sentence without a jury. Under +those circumstances, his position is similar to that of a French judge, +but his moral power is far greater; for the memory and the influence of +juries are all about him, and he speaks with the authority of one who +habitually rests upon the jury system. In no other countries are the +judges so powerful as in those where the people are called in to share +judicial privileges and responsibilities. + + +_IV.--Equality of Men and Women_ + +Inasmuch as democracy destroys or modifies the various inequalities +which social traditions have made, it is natural to ask whether it has +had any effect on that great inequality between men and women which +is elsewhere so conspicuous. We are driven to the conclusion that the +social movement which places son and father, servant and master, and in +general, the inferior and superior, more nearly on the same level, must +raise woman more and more to an equality with man. + +Let us guard, however, against misconceptions. There are people in +Europe who confuse the natural qualities of the two sexes, and desire +that men and women should be, not only equal, but also similar to one +another. That would give them both the same functions, the same duties +and the same rights, and would have them mingle in everything, in work, +in pleasures, and in business. But the attempt to secure this kind +of equality between the two sexes, only degrades them both, and must +result in unmanly men, and unwomanly women. + +The Americans have not thus mistaken the kind of democratic equality +which ought to hold between man and woman. They know that progress does +not consist in forcing these dissimilar temperaments and faculties +into the same mould, but in securing that each shall fulfil his or her +task in the best possible way. They have most carefully separated the +functions of man and woman, in order that the great work of social life +may be most prosperously carried on. + +In America, far more than elsewhere, the lines of action of the two +sexes have been clearly divided. You do not find American women +directing the external affairs of the family, or entering into business +or into politics; but neither do you find them obliged to undertake +the rough labours of the field, or any other work requiring physical +strength. There are no families so poor as to form an exception to this +rule. + +So it is that American women often unite a masculine intelligence and +a virile energy with an appearance of great refinement and altogether +womanly manners. + +One has often noticed in Europe a certain tinge of contempt even in +the flatteries which men lavish on women; and although the European +often makes himself a slave of a woman, it is easy to see that he never +really regards her as his equal. But in the United States men rarely +praise women, though they show their esteem for them every day. + +Americans show, in fact, a full confidence in woman's reason, and a +profound respect for her liberty. They realise that her mind is just as +capable as that of man to discover truth, and that her heart is just as +courageous in following it; and they have never tried to shelter or to +guide her by means of prejudice, ignorance, or fear. + +For my part I do not hesitate to say that the singular prosperity and +the evergrowing power of the American people is due to the superiority +of American women. + + +_V.--The Perfectibility of Man_ + +Equality suggests many ideas which would never have arisen without +it, and among others the notion that humanity can reach perfection--a +theory which has practical consequences of great interest. + +In countries where the population is classed according to rank, +profession, and birth, and everyone has to follow the career to which +he happens to be born, each is conscious of limits to his power, +and does not attempt to struggle against an inevitable destiny. +Aristocratic peoples do not deny that man may be improved, but they +think of this as an amelioration of the individual, and not as a change +in social circumstances, and while they admit that humanity has made +great progress, they believe in certain limits which it cannot pass. +They do not think, for instance, that we shall arrive at sovereign good +or at absolute truth. + +But in proportion as caste and class-distinction disappear, the +vision of an ideal perfection arises before the human mind. Continual +changes are ever taking place, some of them to his disadvantage, but +the majority to his advantage, and the democrat concludes that man +in general is capable of arriving at perfection. His reverses teach +him that no one has yet discovered absolute good, and his frequent +successes excite him to pursue it. Always seeking, falling, and rising +again, often deceived, but never discouraged, he hastens towards an +immense grandeur which he dimly conceives as the goal of humanity. This +theory of perfectibility exercises prodigious influence even on those +who have never thought of it. For instance, I ask an American sailor +why the ships of his country are built to last only a few years; and +he tells me without hesitation that the art of shipbuilding makes such +rapid progress every day, that the finest ship constructed to-day must +be useless after a very short time. From these words, spoken at random +by an uneducated man, I can perceive the general and systematic idea +which guides this great people in every matter. + + +_VI.--American Vanity_ + +All free people are proud of themselves, but national pride takes +different forms. The Americans, in their relations with strangers, are +impatient of the least criticism, and absolutely insatiable for praise. +The slightest congratulation pleases them, but the most extravagant +eulogium is not enough to satisfy them; they are all the time touting +for your praise, and if you are slow to give it they begin praising +themselves. It is as if they were doubtful of their own merit. Their +vanity is not only hungry, but anxious and envious. It gives nothing, +and asks insistently. It is both supplicant and pugnacious. If I tell +an American that his country is a fine one, he replies, "It is the +finest in the world." If I admire the liberty which it enjoys, he +answers, "There are few people worthy of such liberty." I remark on the +purity of manners in the United States, and he says, "Yes, a stranger +who knows the corruption of other nations must indeed be astonished at +us." At length I leave him to the contemplation of his country and of +himself, but he presently runs after me, and will not go away until +I have repeated it all over again. It is a kind of patriotism that +worries even those who honour it. + +The Englishman, on the contrary, tranquilly enjoys the real or +imaginary advantages which his country affords. He cares nothing for +the blame nor for the praise of strangers. His attitude towards the +whole world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve. His pride seeks +no nourishment; it lives on itself. It is very remarkable that the two +people who have arisen from the same stock should differ so radically +in their way of feeling and speaking. + +In aristocratic countries, great families possess enormous privileges, +on which their pride rests. They consider these privileges as a natural +right inherent in their person, and their feeling of superiority +is therefore a peaceful one. They have no reason to boast of the +prerogatives which everyone concedes to them without question. So, when +public affairs are directed by an aristocracy, the national pride tends +to take this reserved, haughty, and independent form. + +Under democratic conditions, on the contrary, the least advantage +which anyone gains has great importance in his eyes; for everyone is +surrounded by millions very nearly his equal. His pride therefore +becomes anxious and insatiable; he founds it on miserable trifles and +defends it obstinately. Again, most Americans have recently acquired +the advantages which they possess, and therefore have inordinate +pleasure in contemplating these advantages, and in showing them to +others; and as these advantages may escape at any moment, they are +always uneasy about them, and look at them again and again to see that +they still have them. Men who live in democracies love their country +as they love themselves, and model their national vanity upon their +private vanity. The close dependence of this anxious and insatiable +vanity of democratic peoples upon the equality and fragility of their +conditions is seen from the fact that the members of the proudest +nobility show exactly the same passionate jealousy for the most +trifling circumstances of their life when these become unstable or are +contested. + + + + +IZAAK WALTON + +The Compleat Angler + + Izaak Walton, English author and angler, was born at Stafford + on August 9, 1593, and until about his fiftieth year lived as a + linen-draper in London. He then retired from business and lived + at Stafford for a few years; but returned to London in 1650, and + spent his closing years at Winchester, where he died on December + 15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral there. Walton was + thrice married, his second wife being sister of the future Bishop + Ken. He had a large acquaintance with eminent clergymen, and + among his literary friends were Ben Jonson and Michael Drayton. + He was author of several charming biographies, including those + of the poet Donne, 1640, of Sir Henry Wotton, 1651, of Richard + Hooker, 1652, and of George Herbert, 1670. But by far his most + famous work is "The Compleat Angler; or, the Contemplative Man's + Recreation," published in 1653. There were earlier books on the + subject in English, such as Dame Juliana Berner's "Treatise + pertaining to Hawking, Hunting, and Fishing with an Angle," 1486; + the "Book of Fishing with Hook and Line," 1590; a poem, "The + Secrets of Angling," by John Denny, 1613; and several others. + The new thing in Walton's book, and the secret of its unfading + popularity, is the charm of temperament. Charles Lamb well said + that it "breathes the very spirit of innocence, purity, and + simplicity of heart." A sequel to the book, entitled the "Second + Part of the Compleat Angler," was written by Charles Cotton, and + published in 1676. + + +_The Virtues of Angling_ + +PISCATOR, VENATOR, AND AUCEPS + +_Piscator._ You are well overtaken, gentlemen! A good morning to you +both! I have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake you, +hoping your business may occasion you towards Ware, whither I am going +this fine fresh May morning. + +_Venator._ Sir, I, for my part, shall almost answer your hopes, for my +purpose is to drink my morning's draught at the Thatched House. And, +sir, as we are all so happy to have a fine morning, I hope we shall +each be the happier in each other's company. + +_Auceps._ Sir, I shall, by your favour, bear you company as far as +Theobald's, for then I turn up to a friend's house, who mews a hawk for +me. And as the Italians say, good company in a journey maketh the way +to seem the shorter, I, for my part, promise you that I shall be as +free and open-hearted as discretion will allow with strangers. + +_Piscator._ I am right glad to hear your answers. I shall put on a +boldness to ask you, sir, whether business or pleasure caused you to be +up so early, for this other gentleman hath declared he is going to see +a hawk that a friend mews for him. + +_Venator._ Sir, I intend to go hunting the otter. + +_Piscator._ Those villainous vermin, for I hate them perfectly, because +they love fish so well, or rather destroy so much. For I, sir, am a +brother of the angle. + +_Auceps._ And I profess myself a falconer, and have heard many +grave, serious men scoff at anglers and pity them, as it is a heavy, +contemptible, dull recreation. + +_Piscator._ You know, gentlemen, it is an easy thing to scoff at any +art or recreation; a little wit mixed with all nature, confidence, and +malice will do it; but though they often venture boldly, yet they are +often caught, even in their own trap. + +There be many men that are by others taken to be serious, and grave +men, which we contemn and pity: men that are taken to be grave because +nature hath made them of a sour complexion--money-getting men, men that +are condemned to be rich; for these poor, rich men, we anglers pity +them most perfectly. No, sir! We enjoy a contentedness above the reach +of such dispositions. + +_Venator._ Sir, you have almost amazed me; for though I am no scoffer, +yet I have--I pray let me speak it without offence--always looked upon +anglers as more patient and simple men than, I fear, I shall find you +to be. + +_Piscator._ Sir, I hope you will not judge my earnestness to be +impatience! As for my simplicity, if by that you mean a harmlessness +which was usually found in the primitive Christians, who were, as most +anglers are, followers of peace--then myself and men of my profession +will be glad to be so understood. But if, by simplicity, you mean to +express a general defect, I hope in time to disabuse you. + +But, gentlemen, I am not so unmannerly as to engross all the discourse +to myself; I shall be most glad to hear what you can say in the +commendation of your several recreations. + +_Auceps._ The element I use to trade in, the air, is an element of more +worth than weight; an element that doubtless exceeds both the earth and +water; in it my noble falcon ascends to such a height as the dull eye +of man is not able to reach to; my troop of hawks soars up on high, so +that they converse with the gods. + +And more, the worth of this element of air is such that all creatures +whatsoever stand in need of it. The waters cannot preserve their fish +without air; witness the not breaking of ice and the result thereof. + +_Venator._ Well, sir, I will now take my turn. The earth, that solid, +settled element, is the one on which I drive my pleasant, wholesome, +hungry trade. What pleasure doth man take in hunting the stately stag, +the cunning otter! The earth breeds and nourishes the mighty elephant, +and also the least of creatures! It puts limits to the proud and raging +seas, and so preserves both man and beast; daily we see those that are +shipwrecked and left to feed haddocks; but, Mr. Piscator, I will not be +so uncivil as not to allow you time for the commendation of angling; I +doubt we shall hear a watery discourse--and I hope not a long one. + +_Piscator._ Gentlemen, my discourse is likely to prove suitable to my +recreation--calm and quiet. + +Water is the eldest daughter of the creation, the element upon which +the spirit of God did first move. There be those that profess to +believe that all bodies are water, and may be reduced back into water +only. + +The water is more productive than the earth. The increase of creatures +that are bred in the water is not only more miraculous, but more +advantageous to man for the preventing of sickness. It is observed that +the casting of Lent and other fish days hath doubtless been the cause +of these many putrid, shaking agues, to which this country of ours is +now more subject. + +To pass by the miraculous cures of our known baths the Romans have made +fish the mistress of all their entertainments; and have had music to +usher in their sturgeons, lampreys, and mullets. + +_Auceps._ Sir, it is with such sadness that I must part with you here, +for I see Theobald's house. And so I part full of good thoughts. God +keep you both. + +_Venator._ Sir, you said angling was of great antiquity, and a perfect +art, not easily attained to. I am desirous to hear further concerning +those particulars. + +_Piscator._ Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly? +A trout! more sharp-sighted than any hawk! Doubt not, angling is an art +worth your learning. The question is rather, whether you be capable +of learning it? Angling is like poetry--men are to be born so. Some +say it is as ancient as Deucalion's flood, and Moses makes mention of +fish-hooks, which must imply anglers. + +But as I would rather prove myself a gentleman by being learned, and +humble, valiant, and inoffensive, virtuous, and communicable, than by +any fond ostentation of riches, or, wanting those virtues, boast these +were in my ancestors, so if this antiquity of angling shall be an +honour to this art, I shall be glad I made mention of it. + +I shall tell you that in ancient times a debate hath arisen, whether +the happiness of man doth consist more in contemplation or action? + +Some have endeavoured to maintain their opinion of the first by saying +that the nearer we mortals approach to God by way of imitation, +the more happy we are. And they say God enjoys Himself only by a +contemplation of His own infiniteness, eternity, power, goodness and +the like. + +On the contrary, there want not men of equal authority that prefer +action to be the more excellent, such as experiments in physics for the +ease and prolongation of man's life. Concerning which two opinions I +shall forbear to add a third, and tell you, my worthy friend, that both +these meet together and do most properly belong to the most honest, +quiet, and harmless art of angling. + +An ingenious Spaniard says that "rivers and the inhabitants thereof +were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without +consideration." + +There be many wonders reported of rivers, as of a river in Epirus, that +puts out any lighted torch, and kindles any torch that was not lighted; +the river Selarus, that in a few hours turns a rod to stone, and +mention is made of the like in England, and many others on historical +faith. + +But to tell you something of the monsters, or fish, call them what you +will, Pliny says the fish called the Balaena is so long and so broad as +to take up more length and breadth than two acres of ground; and in the +river Ganges there be eels thirty feet long. + +I know we islanders are averse to the belief of these wonders, but +there are many strange creatures to be now seen. Did not the Prophet +David say, "They that occupy themselves in deep water see the wonderful +works of God"; and the apostles of our Saviour, were not they four +simple fishermen; He found that the hearts of such men, by nature, +were fitted for contemplation and quietness--men of sweet and peaceable +spirits, as indeed most anglers are. + +_Venator._ Sir, you have angled me on with much pleasure to the +Thatched House, for I thought we had three miles of it. Let us drink a +civil cup to all lovers of angling, of which number I am now willing +to count myself, and if you will but meet me to-morrow at the time and +place appointed, we two will do nothing but talk of fish and fishing. + +_Piscator._ 'Tis a match, sir; I will not fail you, God willing, to be +at Amwell Hill to-morrow before sun-rising. + + +_Master and Pupil_ + +_Piscator._ Sir, I am right glad to meet you. Come, honest Venator, let +us be gone; I long to be doing. + +_Venator._ Well, let's to your sport of angling. + +_Piscator._ With all my heart. But we are not yet come to a likely +place. Let us walk on. But let us first to an honest alehouse, where my +hostess can give us a cup of her best drink. + +Seneca says that the ancients were so curious in the newness of their +fish, that they usually did keep them living in glass-bottles in their +dining-rooms, and did glory much in the entertaining of their friends, +to have the fish taken from under their tables alive that was instantly +to be fed upon. Our hostess shall dress us a trout, that we shall +presently catch, and we, with brother Peter and Goridon, will sup on +him here this same evening. + +_Venator._ And now to our sport. + +_Piscator._ This is not a likely place for a trout; the sun is too +high. But there lie upon the top of the water twenty Chub. Sir, here is +a trial of my skill! I'll catch only one, and he shall be the big one, +that has some bruise upon his tail. + +_Venator._ I'll sit down and hope well; because you seem so confident. + +_Piscator._ Look you, sir! The very one! Oh, 'tis a great logger-headed +Chub! I'll warrant he will make a good dish of meat. + +Under that broad beech tree yonder, I sat down when I was last +a-fishing; and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a +friendly contention with the echo that lives in a hollow near the brow +of that primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver stream slide +away, and the lambs sporting harmlessly. And as I sat, these sights so +possessed my soul, that I thought as the poet hath it: + + "I was for that time lifted above earth; + And possess'd joys not promised at my birth." + +But, let us further on; and we will try for a Trout. 'Tis now past five +of the clock. + +_Venator._ I have a bite! Oh me! He has broke all; and a good hook +lost! But I have no fortune! Sure yours is a better rod and tackling. + +_Piscator._ Nay, then, take mine, and I will fish with yours. Look you, +scholar, I have another. I pray, put that net under him, but touch not +my line. Well done, scholar, I thank you. + +And now, having three brace of Trouts, I will tell you a tale as we +walk back to our hostess. + +A preacher that was to procure the approbation of a parish got from +a fellow preacher the copy of a sermon that was preached with great +commendation by him that composed it; and though the borrower preached +it, word for word, yet it was utterly disliked; and on complaining to +the lender of it, was thus answered: "I lent you indeed my fiddle, but +not my fiddlestick; for you are to know, everyone cannot make music +with my words, which are fitted for my own mouth." And though I lend +you my very rod and tacklings, yet you have not my fiddlestick, that +is, the skill wherewith I guide it. + +_Venator._ Master, you spoke very true. Yonder comes mine hostess to +call us to supper; and when we have supped we will sing songs which +shall give some addition of mirth to the company. + +_Piscator._ And so say I; for to-morrow we meet again up the water +towards Waltham. + + +_Fish of English Streams_ + +_Piscator._ Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, as Dr. +Boteler said of strawberries, "Doubtless God could have made a better +berry, but doubtless God never did"; and so, God never did make a more +calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling. + +And when I see how pleasantly that meadow looks; and the earth smells +so sweetly too; I think of them as Charles the Emperor did of the City +of Florence; "that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but on +holidays." + +To speak of fishes; the Salmon is accounted the king of fresh-water +fish. He breeds in the rivers in the month of August, and then hastes +to the sea before winter; where he recovers his strength and comes the +next summer to the same river; for like persons of riches, he has his +summer and winter house, to spend his life in, which is, as Sir Francis +Bacon hath observed, not above ten years. + +The Pike, the tyrant of the fresh-waters, is said to be the +longest-lived of any fresh-water fish, but not usually above forty +years. Gesner relates of a man watering his mule in a pond, where the +Pike had devoured all the fish, had the Pike bite his mule's lips; to +which he hung so fast, the mule did draw him out of the water. And +this same Gesner observes, that a maid in Poland washing clothes in +a pond, had a Pike bite her by the foot. I have told you who relate +these things; and shall conclude by telling you, what a wise-man hath +observed: "It is a hard thing to persuade the belly, because it has no +ears." + +Besides being an eater of great voracity, the Pike is observed to be a +solitary, melancholy and a bold fish. When he is dressed with a goodly, +rich sauce, and oysters, this dish of meat is too good for any man, but +an angler, or a very honest man. + +The Carp, that hath only lately been naturalised in England, is said to +be the queen of rivers, and will grow to a very great bigness; I have +heard, much above a yard long. + +The stately Bream, and the Tench, that physician of fishes, love best +to live in ponds. In every Tench's head are two little stones which +physicians make great use of. Rondeletius says, at his being in Rome, +he saw a great cure done by applying a Tench to the feet of a sick man. + +But I will not meddle more with that; there are too many meddlers in +physic and divinity that think fit to meddle with hidden secrets and so +bring destruction to their followers. + +The Perch is a bold, biting fish, and carries his teeth in his mouth; +and to affright the Pike and save himself he will set up his fins, like +as a turkey-cock will set up his tail. If there be twenty or forty in +a hole, they may be catched one after the other, at one standing; they +being, like the wicked of this world, not afraid, though their fellows +and companions perish in their sight. + +And now I think best to rest myself, for I have almost spent my spirits +with talking. + +_Venator._ Nay, good master, one fish more! For it rains yet; you know +our angles are like money put to usury; they may thrive, though we sit +still. Come, the other fish, good master! + +_Piscator._ But shall I nothing from you, that seem to have both a good +memory and a cheerful spirit? + +_Venator._ Yes, master; I will speak you a copy of verses that allude +to rivers and fishing: + + Come, live with me, and be my love, + And we will some new pleasures prove; + Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, + With silken lines, and silver hooks. + + When thou wilt swim in that live bath, + Each fish, which every channel hath, + Most amorously to thee will swim, + Gladder to catch thee, than thou him. + + Let others freeze with angling reeds, + And cut their legs with shells and weeds, + Or treacherously poor fish beget + With trangling snare or windowy net; + + For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, + For thou, thyself, art thine own bait, + That fish, that is not catched thereby + Is wiser far, alas, than I! + +_Piscator._ I thank you for these choice verses. And I will now tell +you of the Eel, which is a most dainty fish. The Romans have esteemed +her the Helena of their feasts. Sir Francis Bacon will allow the Eel to +live but ten years; but he mentions a Lamprey, belonging to the Roman +Emperor, that was made tame and kept for three-score years; so that +when she died, Crassus, the orator, lamented her death. + +I will tell you next how to make the Eel a most excellent dish of meat. + +First, wash him in water and salt, then pull off his skin and clean +him; then give him three or four scotches with a knife; and then put +into him sweet herbs, an anchovy and a little nutmeg. Then pull his +skin over him, and tie him with pack-thread; and baste him with butter, +and what he drips, be his sauce. And when I dress an Eel thus, I wish +he were a yard and three-quarters long. But they are not so proper to +be talked of by me because they make us anglers no sport. + +The Barbel, so called by reason of his barb or wattles, and the +Gudgeon, are both fine fish of excellent shape. + +My further purpose was to give you directions concerning Roach and +Dace, but I will forbear. I see yonder, brother Peter. But I promise +you, to-morrow as we walk towards London, if I have forgotten anything +now I will not then keep it from you. + +_Venator._ Come, we will all join together and drink a cup to our +jovial host, and so to bed. I say good-night to everybody. + +_Piscator._ And so say I. + + +_Walking Homewards_ + +_Piscator._ I will tell you, my honest scholar, I once heard one say, +"I envy not him that eats better meat, or wears better clothes than I +do; I envy him only that catches more fish than I do." + +And there be other little fish that I had almost forgot, such as the +Minnow or Penk; the dainty Loach; the Miller's-Thumb, of no pleasing +shape; the Stickle-bag, good only to make sport for boys and women +anglers. + +Well, scholar, I could tell you many things of the rivers of this +nation, the chief of which is the Thamisis; of fish-ponds, and how to +breed fish within them, and how to order your lines and baits for the +several fishes; but, I will tell you some of the thoughts that have +possessed my soul since we met together. And you shall join with me +in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for our +happiness; which may appear the greater when we consider how many, even +at this very time, lie under the torment, and the stone, the gout, and +tooth-ache; and all these we are free from. + +Since we met, others have met disasters, some have been blasted, and +we have been free from these. What is a far greater mercy, we are free +from the insupportable burden of an accusing conscience. + +Let me tell you, there be many that have forty times our estates, that +would give the greatest part of it to be healthful and cheerful like +us; who have eat, and drank, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and +slept; and rose next day, and cast away care, and sung, and laughed, +and angled again. + +I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy that he has no leisure +to laugh. He says that Solomon says, "The diligent man makest +rich"; but, he considers not what was wisely said by a man of great +observation, "That there be as many miseries beyond riches, as on this +side them." + +Let me tell you, scholar, Diogenes walked one day through a country +fair, where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and +fiddles, and many other gimcracks; and said to his friend, "Lord, how +many things are there in this world Diogenes hath no need!" + +All this is told you to incline you to thankfulness: though the prophet +David was guilty of murder and many other of the most deadly sins, yet +he was said to be a man after God's own heart, because he abounded with +thankfulness. + +Well, scholar, I have almost tired myself, and I fear, more than tired +you. + +But, I now see Tottenham High Cross, which puts a period to our too +long discourse, in which my meaning was to plant that in your mind with +which I labour to possess my own soul--that is, a meek and thankful +heart. And, to that end, I have showed you that riches without them do +not make a man happy. But riches with them remove many fears and cares. +Therefore, my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or +contentedly poor; but be sure your riches be justly got; for it is well +said by Caussin, "He that loses his conscience, has nothing left that +is worth the keeping." So look to that. And in the next place, look to +your health, for health is a blessing that money cannot buy. As for +money, neglect it not, and, if you have a competence, enjoy it with a +cheerful, thankful heart. + +_Venator._ Well, master, I thank you for all your good directions, and +especially for this last, of thankfulness. And now being at Tottenham +High Cross, I will requite a part of your courtesies with a drink +composed of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which, all put together, +make a drink like nectar indeed; and too good for anybody, but us +anglers. So, here is a full glass to you. + +_Piscator._ And I to you, sir. + +_Venator._ Sir, your company and discourse have been so pleasant that I +truly say, that I have only lived since I enjoyed it an turned angler, +and not before. + +I will not forget the doctrines Socrates taught his scholars, that they +should not think to be honoured for being philosophers, so much as to +honour philosophy by the virtue of their lives. You advised me to the +like concerning angling, and to live like those same worthy men. And +this is my firm resolution. + +And when I would beget content, I will walk the meadows, by some +gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care. +That is my purpose; and so, "let the blessing of St. Peter's Master be +with mine." + +_Piscator._ And upon all that are lovers of virtue, and be quiet, and +go a-angling. + + + + +_Index_ + + + In the following Index the Roman Numerals refer to the _Volumes_, + and the Arabic Numerals to _Pages_. The numerals in heavy, or + =black-faced= type, indicate the place where the _biographical_ + notice will be found. + + Abbe Constantine, The V 38 + + ABELARD AND HELOISE =IX= 1 + + ABOUT, EDMOND =I= 1 + + Adam Bede IV 33 + + ADDISON, JOSEPH =XVI= 1; XX 1 + + Advancement of Learning, The XIII 321 + + Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green, The II 41 + + Advice to Young Men XX 78 + + AESCHYLUS =XVI= 16 _seq._ + + AESOP =XX= 10 + + Africa: see Vol. XIX + + Agamemnon, The XVI 16 + + Age of Reason, The XIII 196 + + Aids to Reflection XIII 84 + + AINSWORTH, HARRISON =I= 17 + + Albert N'Yanza, The XIX 1 + + Alcestis XVI 336 + + Alice's Adventures in Wonderland II 176 + + All for Love XVI 322 + + Alton Locke V 236 + + Ambrosio, or the Monk VI 51 + + Amelia IV 122 + + America, History of: + Mexico XII 19; + Peru XII 30; + United States XII 1; + see also WASHINGTON, FRANKLIN, etc. + + ----, Democracy in XX 324 + + ----, Wanderings in South XIX 313 + + Anabasis, The XI 110 + + Anatomy of Melancholy, The XX 41 + + ---- of Vertebrates XV 280 + + ANDERSEN, HANS CHRISTIAN =I= 30 + + Angler, The Complete XX 334 + + Animal Chemistry XV 203 + + Anna Karenina VIII 205 + + Annals of the Parish IV 204 + + ---- of Tacitus XI 156 + + Antigone XVIII 237 + + Antiquary, The VII 241 + + Antiquities of the Jews XI 43 + + APOCRYPHA, THE =XIII= 1 + + Apologia Pro Vita Sua XIII 185 + + Apology, or Defence of Socrates XIV 75 + + APULEIUS =I= 45 + + ARABIAN NIGHTS =I= 61 + + Arcadia VIII 54 + + Areopagitica XX 257 + + ARIOSTO, LUDOVICO =XVI= 51 + + ARISTOPHANES =XVI= 64 _seq._ + + ARISTOTLE =XIII= 291 + + Arne I 274 + + ARNOLD, MATTHEW =XX= 18 + + Arnold, Life of Thomas X 260 + + Astronomy, Outlines of XV 146 + + Atala II 224 + + Atta Troll XVII 50 + + AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE =I= 79 + + AUERBACH, BERTHOLD =I= 93 + + AUGUSTINE, SAINT =IX= 24; XIII 29 + + AURELIUS (MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS) =XIII= 307 + + Aurora Leigh XVI 144 + + AUSTEN, JANE =I= 109 _seq._ + + Authority of Scripture, The XIII 129 + + Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle IX 91 + + Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini IX 120 + + ---- of Benjamin Franklin IX 247 + + ---- of Flavius Josephus X 61 + + Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table, The XX 181 + + + BACON, FRANCIS =XIII= 321 + + BAGEHOT, WALTER =XII= 88 + + BAILEY, PHILIP JAMES =XVI= 86 + + BAKER, SIR SAMUEL =XIX= 1 + + BALZAC, HONORE DE =I= 188 _seq._ + + Barber of Seville, The XVI 101 + + Barchester Towers VIII 233 + + Barnaby Rudge III 53 + + BAXTER, RICHARD =XIII= 37 + + Beaconsfield, Earl of: see DISRAELI, BENJAMIN + + BEAUMARCHAIS, P.A. CARON DE =XVI= 101 _seq._ + + BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER =XVI= 133 + + BECKFORD, WILLIAM =I= 244 + + BEHN, APHRA =I= 255 + + Belinda IV 13 + + BELLAMY, EDWARD =XIV= 173 + + BENTHAM, JEREMY =XIV= 186 + + Berenice XVIII 106 + + BERGERAC, CYRANO DE =I= 265 + + BERKELEY, GEORGE =XIII= 329 + + Bernard, Life of Saint X 135 + + Betrothed, The VI 169 + + Beyle, Henri: see STENDHAL + + Bible in Spain, The XIX 22 + + Biographia Literaria IX 166 + + Biology, Principles of XIV 133 + + Birds, The XVI 64 + + BJOeRNSON, BJOeRNSTJERNE =I= 274 _seq._ + + BLACK, WILLIAM =I= 300 + + Black Prophet, The II 164 + + ---- Tulip, The III 281 + + BLACKMORE, R. D. =I= 313 + + Bleak House III 66 + + BLOCH, JEAN =XIV= 199 + + Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A XVI 154 + + BOCCACCIO, GIOVANNI =I= 327 + + BOOK OF THE DEAD =XIII= 47 + + BORROW, GEORGE =II= 1 _seq._; XIX 13 _seq._ + + BOSWELL, JAMES =IX= 37; XIX 37 + + Bothwell IV 301 + + BRADDON, M. E. =II= 27 + + BRADLEY, EDWARD ("Cuthbert Bede") =II= 41 + + BRAHMANISM, BOOKS OF =XIII= 59 + + BRAMWELL, JOHN MILNE =XV= 1 + + BRANDES, GEORGE =XX= 31 + + BREWSTER, SIR DAVIS =IX= 66 + + BRONTE, CHARLOTTE =II= 54 _seq._; + "Life of" =IX= 259 + + BRONTE, EMILY =II= 97 + + BROWNE, SIR THOMAS =XIII= 66 + + BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT =XVI= 144 + + BROWNING, ROBERT =XVI= 154 _seq._ + + BRUCE, JAMES =XIX= 47 + + BUCHANAN, ROBERT =II= 111 + + BUCKLE, HENRY =XII= 76 + + BUFFON, COMTE DE =XV= 12 + + BUNYAN, JOHN =II= 124 _seq._; =IX= 79 + + BURCKHARDT, JOHN LEWIS =XIX= 57 + + BURKE, EDMUND =XIV= 212 + + BURNEY, FANNY =II= 150 + + Burns, Life of Robert X 86 + + BURTON, ROBERT =XX= 41 + + BURTON, SIR RICHARD =XIX= 67 + + BUTLER, SAMUEL =XVI= 177 + + BUTLER, SIR WILLIAM =XIX=79 _seq._ + + BYRON, LORD =XVI= 188 _seq._; + "Life of" X 122 + + + CAESAR, JULIUS =XI= 144 + + CALDERON DE LA BARCA =XVI= 206 + + Caleb Williams IV 241 + + Caliph Vathek, History of I 244 + + Called Back II 274 + + CALVIN, JOHN =XIII= 75 + + Canterbury Tales, The XVI 226 + + Capital: A Critical Analysis XIV 282 + + Captain's Daughter, The VII 42 + + Captain Singleton III 41 + + CARLETON, WILLIAM =II= 164 + + CARLYLE, ALEXANDER =IX= 91 + + CARLYLE, THOMAS =IX= 99; XII 147; XII 188; XX 50 _seq._ + + Carmen VI 239 + + CARROLL, LEWIS =II= 176 + + Castle of Otranto VIII 303 + + ---- Rackrent IV 21 + + Catiline, Conspiracy of XI 168 + + Cato: A Tragedy XVI 1 + + CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS =XVI= 219 + + CELLINI, BENVENUTO =IX= 120 + + Cellular Pathology XV 292 + + CERVANTES, MIGUEL =II= 198 + + CHAMBERS, ROBERT =XV= 22 + + CHAMISSO, ADALBERT VON =II= 212 + + Characters XX 193 + + Charles XII, History of XII 280 + + ---- O'Malley VI 26 + + Chartreuse of Parma, The VIII 103 + + CHATEAUBRIAND, FRANCOIS RENE VICOMTE DE =II= 224; IX 124 + + CHAUCER, GEOFFREY =XVI= 226 + + Chemical History of a Candle, The XV 85 + + ---- Philosophy, Elements of XV 64 + + Chemistry, Animal XV 203 + + CHERBULIEZ, CHARLES VICTOR =II= 235 + + CHESTERFIELD, EARL OF =IX= 144 + + Childe Harold's Pilgrimage XVI 188 + + Childhood, Boyhood, Youth X 291 + + China's Four Books: see CONFUCIANISM + + Christ, Imitation of XIII 160 + + Christian Religion, Institution of the XIII 75 + + Christianity, History of Latin: see Papacy + + Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland XI 286 + + CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS =IX= 155; XX 70 + + Cid, The XVI 267 + + Citizen of the World, The XX 149 + + City of Dreadful Night, The XVIII 293 + + ---- of God, The XIII 29 + + Civilisation in Europe, History of XI 241 + + Clarendon, Earl of: see HYDE, EDWARD + + Clarissa Harlowe VII 118 + + Cloister and the Hearth, The VII 92 + + COBBETT, WILLIAM =XX= 78 + + Cobden, Life of Richard X 144 + + COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR =IX= 166; XIII 84 + + Collegians, The V 13 + + COLLINS, WILKIE =II= 249 _seq._ + + Columbus, Life of Christopher X 41 + + Commentaries on the Gallic War XI 144 + + Complete Angler, The XX 334 + + COMTE, AUGUSTE =XIV= 244 + + Concerning Friendship XX 70 + + ---- the Human Understanding XIV 56 + + Confessions, My (Count Tolstoy) X 301 + + ---- of Augustine IX 24 + + ---- of an English Opium Eater IX 189 + + ---- of Jean Jacques Rousseau X 190 + + CONFUCIANISM =XIII= 93 + + CONGREVE, WILLIAM =XVI= 246 _seq._ + + Coningsby III 227 + + Conspiracy of Catiline, The XI 168 + + Consuelo VII 205 + + Conversations with Eckerman IX 303 + + ----, Imaginary XX 203 + + CONWAY, HUGH =II= 274 + + COOK, JAMES =XIX= 100 + + COOPER, FENIMORE =II= 285 _seq._ + + Corinne VIII 89 + + CORNEILLE, PIERRE =XVI= 267 _seq._ + + Corsican Brothers, The III 292 + + Cosmos, A Sketch of the Universe XV 158 + + Count of Monte Cristo, The III 304 + + Courtships of (Queen) Elizabeth, The X 13 + + COWPER, WILLIAM =IX= 177; XVI 290 + + CRAIK, MRS. =II= 312 + + Cranford IV 215 + + Creation, Vestiges of XV 22 + + Crescent and the Cross, The XIX 299 + + Critique of Practical Reason XIV 34 + + ---- of Pure Reason XIV 24 + + CROLY, GEORGE =II= 324 + + Cromwell, Letters and Speeches of Oliver IX 99 + + Cuthbert Bede: see BRADLEY, EDWARD + + CUVIER, GEORGES =XV= 33 + + + DAMPIER, WILLIAM =XIX= 112 + + DANA, RICHARD HENRY =II= 335 + + DANTE ALIGHIERI =XVI= 300 _seq._ + + DARWIN, CHARLES =XV= 43; XIX 124 + + DAUDET, ALPHONSE =III= 1 + + Daughter of Heth, A I 300 + + David Copperfield III 79 + + DA VINCI, LEONARDO =XX= 227 + + DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY =XV= 64 + + Dawn of Civilisation, The XI 1 + + DAY, THOMAS =III= 14 + + Dead Man's Diary, A V 224 + + Death of the Gods, The VI 227 + + Decameron, The, or Ten Days' Entertainment I 327 + + Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire XI 174 _seq._; XI 229 + + Deeds and Words X 1 + + DEFOE, DANIEL =III= 26 _seq._; XX 90 + + Democracy in America XX 324 + + DEMOSTHENES =XX= 99 + + DE QUINCEY, THOMAS =IX= 189 + + DESCARTES, RENE =XIII= 337 + + Desert, The XIX 201 + + Dialogues on the System of the World XV 105 + + Diary of John Evelyn IX 213 + + ---- of Samuel Pepys X 154 + + DICKENS, CHARLES =III= 53 _seq._ + + Discourse on Method XIII 337 + + Discourses and Encheiridion (Epictetus) XIII 358 + + ---- with Himself (M. Aurelius) XIII 307 + + Discovery of the Source of the Nile XIX 251 + + DISRAELI, BENJAMIN =III= 227 _seq._ + + Divine Comedy, The XVI 300 _seq._ + + Doctor in Spite of Himself, The XVII 362 + + Dombey and Son III 94 + + Don Juan XVI 197 + + ---- Quixote, Life and Adventures of II 198 + + Drink VIII 318 + + DRYDEN, JOHN =XVI= 322 + + DUBOIS, FELIX =XIX= 136 + + DUMAS, ALEXANDRE (_pere_) =III= 269 _seq._; =IX= 201 (Memoirs) + + Dutch Republic, Rise of the XII 220 + + + Earth, Theory of the XV 170 + + EBERS, GEORGE =IV= 1 + + Eckerman, Goethe's Conversations with IX 303 + + EDGEWORTH, MARIA =IV= 13 _seq._ + + Education XIV 120 + + Egypt: + Ancient History XI 1 _seq._; + Mediaeval History XI 272; + Religion XIII 47 + + Egyptian Princess, An IV 1 + + Electricity, Experimental Researches in XV 75 + + ---- and Magnetism, Treatise on XV 227 + + Elements of Chemical Philosophy XV 64 + + ELIOT, GEORGE =IV= 33 _seq._ + + ELIOT, SAMUEL =XII= 1 + + Elizabeth, Queen: + Courtships X 13; + "Life" X 270 + + ELPHINSTONE, MOUNTSTUART =XII= 246 + + Elsie Venner V 87 + + EMERSON, RALPH WALDO =XIII= 349; XX 109 _seq._ + + Emma I 162 + + England, History of: + Buckle XII 76; + Freeman XI 298; + Froude XI 315; + Holinshed XI 286; + Macaulay XII 55; + Rebellion (1642) XII 41 + + English Constitution, The XII 88 + + ----, Letters on the XIX 275 + + ---- Literature, History of XX 298 + + ---- Poets, Lectures on the XX 169 + + ---- Traits XX 109 + + Eothen XIV 159 + + EPICTETUS =XIII= 358 + + Epigrams, Epitaphs, and Poems of Martial XVII 295 + + ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS =XX= 126 _seq._ + + ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN =IV= 97 + + Essay on Liberty XX 248 + + ---- on Man XVIII 94 + + Essays in Criticism XX 18 + + ---- in Eugenics XV 111 + + ---- of Montaigne XIV 64 + + ---- Moral and Political XIV 13 + + Ethics of Aristotle XIII 291 + + ---- of Spinoza XIV 160 + + Eugene Aram VI 87 + + Eugenie Grandet I 188 + + EURIPIDES =XVI= 336 + + Europe: + History of Civilisation in XI 241; + in Middle Ages XI 255; + Literature of XX 158 + + Evangeline, a Tale of Acadie XVII 241 + + Evelina II 150 + + EVELYN, JOHN =IX= 213 + + EVERYMAN =XVI= 348 + + Every Man in His Humour XVII 195 + + Evolution of Man, The XV 123 + + Existence of God, The XIII 117 + + Experimental Researches in Electricity XV 75 + + + Fables of AEsop XX 10 + + Familiar Colloquies XX 126 + + FARADAY, MICHAEL =XV= 75 _seq._ + + Fathers and Sons VIII 245 + + Faust XVI 362 + + Faustus, Tragical History of Dr. XVII 282 + + Felix Holt, The Radical IV 45 + + FENELON, DE LA MOTHE =XIII= 117 + + Ferdinand and Isabella, Reign of XII 271 + + Festus: A Poem XVI 86 + + FEUILLET, OCTAVE =IV= 100 + + FIELDING, HENRY =IV= 122 _seq._ + + Figaro, The Marriage of XVI + + File No. 113 IV 192 + + FINLAY, GEORGE =XII= 206 + + FLAMMARION, CAMILLE =IV= 168 + + FLETCHER; See BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER + + FOREL, AUGUSTE =XV= 95 + + FORSTER, JOHN =IX= 225 + + FOUQUE, DE LA MOTTE =IV= 180 + + FOX, GEORGE, =IX= 238 + + Fragments of an Intimate Diary IX 13 + + France, History of: + Girondists XII 165; + Louis XIV, XII 101; + Modern Regime XII 177; + Old Regime XII 117; + Revolution (Burke) XIV 212, (Carlyle) XII 147, (Mignet) XII 129; + see also (Memoirs, etc.) La Rochefoucauld, Mirabeau, de Staal, + de Sevigne, etc. + + ----, Travels in XIX 327 + + ---- and Italy, Sentimental Journey Through XIX 263 + + Frankenstein VIII 41 + + FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN =IX= 247 + + Frederick the Great XII 188 + + FREEMAN, EDWARD A. =XI= 298 + + Friendship, Concerning XX 70 + + Frogs, The XVI 72 + + FROUDE, JAMES ANTHONY =XI= 315 + + Future of War, The XIV 199 + + + GABORIAU, EMILE =IV= 192 + + GALILEO GALILEI =XIII= 129; =XV= 105 + + Gallic War, Caesar's Commentaries on the XI 144 + + GALT, JOHN =IV= 204 + + GALTON, SIR FRANCIS =XV= 111 + + Garden of Allah, The V 73 + + Gargantua and Pantagruel VII 54 + + GASKELL, MRS. =IV= 215 _seq._; IX 259 + + Geoffry Hamlyn V 306 + + Geology, Principles of XV + + GEORGE, HENRY =XIV= 238 + + Germania XX 286 + + Germany, On XX 276 + + GESTA ROMANORUM =XX= 140 + + GIBBON, EDWARD =IX= 272 (Memoirs); =XI= 174 _seq._; XI 229 + + Gil Blas VI 14 + + Girondists, History of the XII 165 + + GODWIN, WILLIAM =IV= 241 + + GOETHE, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON =IV= 253 _seq._; IX 283 _seq._; XVI 362; + XVII 1 _seq._ + + Goetz von Berlichingen XVII 1 + + GOGOL, NICOLAI =XVII= 30 + + Golden Ass, The I 45 + + GOLDSMITH, OLIVER =IV= 275 _seq._; XVII 39; XX 149 + + GONCOURT, EDMOND and JULES DE =IV= 289 + + Goetterdaemmerung XVIII 336 + + Grace Abounding IX 79 + + Grammont, Memoirs of the Count de IX 324 + + GRANT, JAMES =IV= 301 + + GRAY, MAXWELL =V= 1 + + GRAY, THOMAS =IX= 315 + + Great Expectations III 106 + + ---- Lone Land, The XIX 79 + + Greece, History of XI 81 _seq._; + (modern) XII 206 + + GRIFFIN, GERALD =V= 13 + + GROTE, GEORGE =XI= 122 + + GUIZOT, FRANCOIS PIERRE GUILLAME =XI= 241 + + Gulliver's Travels VIII 157 + + Guy Mannering VII 255 + + + HABBERTON, JOHN =V= 26 + + HAECKEL, ERNST =XV= 123 + + Hajji Baba of Ispahan, The Adventures of VI 276 + + HAKLUYT, RICHARD =XIX= 148 + + HALEVY, LUDOVIC =V= 38 + + HALLAM, HENRY =XI= 255; XX 158 + + HAMILTON, ANTHONY =IX= 324 + + Hamlet XVIII 170 + + Handy Andy VI 75 + + Hard Cash VII 68 + + ---- Times III 118 + + HARVEY, WILLIAM =XV= 136 + + HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL =V= 50 _seq._; IX 336 + + HAZLITT, WILLIAM =XX= 169 + + Headlong Hall VII 1 + + Heart of Midlothian, The VII 267 + + Heaven and Hell XIII 249 + + HEGEL, GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH =XIII= 138; XIV 1 + + HEINE, HEINRICH =XVII= 50 + + Helen's Babies V 26 + + Henry Masterton V 187 + + Hereward the Wake V 248 + + Hernani XVII 110 + + HERODOTUS =XI= 81 + + Heroes and Hero Worship, On XX 50 + + HERSCHEL, SIR JOHN =XV= 146 + + Hesperus VII 143 + + Hiawatha, The Song of XVII 250 + + HICHENS, ROBERT =V= 73 + + HINDUISM, BOOKS OF =XIII= 150 + + History, Philosophy of, XIV 1 + + ---- of Philosophy XIV 45 + + ---- of the Caliph Vathek I 244 + + HOBBES, THOMAS =XIV= 249 + + HOLINSHED, RAPHAEL =XI= 286 + + Holland: See Dutch Republic and United Netherlands + + HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL =V= 87; XX 181 + + Holy Roman Empire, History of XI 229; + see also Papacy + + ---- War, The II 124 + + HOMER =XVII= 66 _seq._ + + HORACE (Q. HORATIUS FLACCUS) =XVII= 91 + + House of the Seven Gables, The V 60 + + Household of Sir Thomas More, The VI 155 + + Hudibras XVI 177 + + HUGHES, THOMAS =V= 99 _seq._ + + Hugo, Victor =V= 122 _seq._; =X= 1; XVII 110 _seq._ + + HUMBOLDT, ALEXANDER VON =XV= 158 + + HUME, DAVID =XIV= 13 + + HUME, MARTIN =X= 13 + + HUTTON, JAMES =XV= 170 + + HYDE, EDWARD (Earl of Clarendon) =XII= 41 + + Hypatia V 260 + + Hypnotism: Its History, Practice and Theory XV 1 + + + IBSEN, HENRIK =XVII= 171 _seq._ + + Idylls of the King XVIII 261 + + Iliad, The XVII 66 + + Imaginary Conversations XX 203 + + Imitation of Christ, The XIII 160 + + Improvisatore, The I 30 + + INCHBALD, MRS. (ELIZABETH) =V= 174 + + India, History of: XII 246; + Religion: see BRAHMANISM, HINDUISM + + In God's Way I 287 + + ---- Memoriam XVIII 277 + + ---- Praise of Folly XX 132 + + Insects, Senses of XV 95 + + Inspector General, The XVII 30 + + Institution of the Christian Religion XIII 75 + + Introduction to the Literature of Europe XX 158 + + Iphigenia in Tauris XVII 18 + + Ironmaster, The VI 314 + + IRVING, WASHINGTON =X= 41 + + It Is Never Too Late To Mend VII 79 + + Ivanhoe VII 280 + + + JAMES, G. P. R. =V= 187 + + Jane Eyre II 54 + + Jerusalem Delivered XVIII 250 + + Jesus, Life of XIII 231 + + Jews: + History and Antiquities of XI 43 _seq._; + Religion (TALMUD) XIII 259 + + John Halifax, Gentleman II 312 + + JOHNSON, SAMUEL =V= 199; + "Life of" =IX= 37 + + JOKAI, MAURICE =V= 212 + + Jonathan Wild IV 133 + + JONSON, BEN =XVII= 195 + + Joseph Andrews IV 143 + + JOSEPHUS, FLAVIUS =X= 61; XI 43 + + Joshua Davidson VI 63 + + Journal of George Fox IX 238 + + ---- of the Plague Year, A XX 90 + + ---- to Stella X 282 + + ---- of a Tour to the Hebrides XIX 37 + + ---- of John Wesley X 327 + + ---- of John Woolman X 341 + + Journey Round My Room, A VI 136 + + JUVENAL =XVII= 207 + + + KANT, IMMANUEL =XIV= 24 _seq._ + + KEMPIS, THOMAS A =XIII= 160 + + Kenilworth VII 293 + + KERNAHAN, COULSON =V= 224 + + King Amuses Himself, The XVII 145 + + ---- of the Mountains, The I 1 + + KINGLAKE, A. W. =XIX= 159 + + KINGSLEY, CHARLES =V= 236 _seq._ + + ----, Henry V 306 + + KLOPSTOCK, FRIEDRICH GOTTLIEB =XVII= 217 + + Knights, The XVI 79 + + KORAN, THE =XIII= 169 + + + LA BRUYERE =XX= 193 + + Lady Audley's Secret II 27 + + ---- of the Lake, The XVIII 160 + + LAMARCK, JEAN BAPTISTE =XV= 179 + + LAMARTINE, A. M. L. DE =XII= 165 + + LAMB, CHARLES and MARY =XVIII= 170 + + LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE =XX= 203 + + LANE-POOLE, STANLEY =XI= 272 + + Laocoon XX 239 + + LA ROCHEFOUCAULD, FRANCOIS DUC DE =X= 203 (Memoirs); XX 215 + + Last of the Barons, The VI 113 + + ---- of the Mohicans, The II 285 + + ---- Days of Pompeii, The VI 99 + + LAVATER, JOHANN =XV= 191 + + Lavengro II 1 + + Laws, The Spirit of XIV 306 + + LAYARD, AUSTEN HENRY =XIX= 171 + + Lazarillo de Tormes VI 217 + + Lectures on the English Poets XX 169 + + LE FANU, SHERIDAN =VI= 1 + + Legend of the Ages, The XVII 159 + + Legislation, Principles of Morals and XIV 186 + + LEONARDO DA VINCI =XX= 227 + + LE SAGE, RENE =VI= 14 + + LESSING, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM =XVII= 226; XX 239 + + Letters of Abelard and Heloise IX 1 + + ---- of Cicero IX 155 + + ---- on the English XIX 275 + + ---- of Thomas Gray IX 315 + + ---- to His Son, Lord Chesterfield's IX 144 + + ---- of Pliny the Younger X 166 + + ---- to a Provincial XIII 209 + + ---- of Mme. de Sevigne X 216 + + ---- Written in the Years 1782-86 IX 177 + + ---- to Zelter IX 283 + + ---- and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, Carlyle's IX 99 + + LEVER, CHARLES =VI= 26 _seq._ + + Leviathan, The XIV 249 + + LEWES, GEORGE HENRY =XIV= 45 + + LEWES, M. G. =VI= 51 + + Liar, The XVI 279 + + Liberty, Essay on XX 248 + + LIEBIG, JUSTUS VON =XV= 203 + + Life, Prolongation of XV 246 + + Life of Thomas Arnold X 260 + + ---- of Saint Bernard X 135 + + ---- of Robert Burns X 86 + + ---- of Charlotte Bronte IX 259 + + ---- of Lord Byron X 122 + + ---- of Cobden X 144 + + ---- of Christopher Columbus X 41 + + ---- of Queen Elizabeth X 270 + + ---- of Goldsmith IX 225 + + ---- of Jesus XIII 231 + + ---- of Dr. Johnson IX 37 + + ---- of Nelson X 226 + + ---- of Sir Isaac Newton IX 66 + + ---- of Pitt X 248 + + ---- of Girolamo Savonarola X 312 + + ---- of Schiller IX 111 + + ---- of Sir Walter Scott X 70 + + ---- of George Washington X 51 + + LINNAEUS, CAROLUS =XIX= 181 + + LINTON, MRS. LYNN =VI= 63 + + Literature, History of English XX 298 + + ----, Main Currents of 19th Century XX 31 + + ---- of Europe, Introduction to the XX 158 + + ----: see also M. ARNOLD, HAZLITT, etc. + + Little Dorrit III 131 + + LIVINGSTONE, DAVID =XIX= 191 + + LOCKE, JOHN =XIV= 56 + + LOCKHART, JOHN GIBSON =X= 70 + + LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH =XVII= 241 _seq._ + + Looking Backward XIV 173 + + Lorna Doone I 313 + + LORRIS and DE MEUN, DE =XVIII= 117 + + Lost Sir Massingberd VI 336 + + LOTI, PIERRE =XIX= 201 + + Louis XIV, The Age of XII 101 + + Love Affairs of Mary Queen of Scots, The X 27 + + ---- Letters of Abelard and Heloise IX 1 + + LOVER, SAMUEL =VI= 75 + + LUCRETIUS =XVII= 261 + + LUTHER, MARTIN =X= 102 + + LYELL, SIR CHARLES =XV= 215 + + LYTTON, EDWARD BULWER =VI= 87 _seq._ + + + MACAULAY, LORD =XII= 55 + + Macbeth XVIII 180 + + MACHIAVELLI, NICCOLO =XIV= 261 + + MACKENZIE, HENRY =VI= 124 + + MACPHERSON, JAMES =XVII= 272 + + Magic Skin, The I 213 + + Magnetism, Treatise on Electricity and XV 227 + + Main Currents of Nineteenth Century Literature XX 31 + + MAISTRE, XAVIER DE =VI= 136 + + MALORY, SIR THOMAS =VI= 145 + + MALTHUS, T. R. =XIV= 270 + + Man, Essay on XVIII 94 + + ----, Evolution of XV 123 + + ----, Nature of XV 238 + + ----, The Rights of XIV 324 + + ---- of Feeling, The VI 124 + + ---- Who Laughs, The V 162 + + MANDEVILLE, SIR JOHN =XIX= 210 + + MANNING, ANNE =VI= 155 + + Mansfield Park I 150 + + Mansie Wauch VI 262 + + MANZONI, ALESSANDRO =VI= 169 + + Marguerite de Valois III 269 + + Marion de Lorme XVII 123 + + MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER =XVII= 282 + + Marmion XVIII 147 + + Marriage of Figaro, The XVI 116 + + MARRYAT, CAPTAIN =VI= 181 _seq._ + + MARTIAL =XVII= 295 + + Martin Chuzzlewit III 143 + + Mary Barton IV 228 + + ---- Queen of Scots, Love Affairs of X 27 + + MARX, KARL =XIV= 282 + + MASPERO, GASTON =XI= 1 _seq._ + + MASSINGER, PHILIP =XVII= 305 + + Master Builder, The XVII 171 + + MATURIN, CHARLES =VI= 205 + + Mauprat VII 217 + + MAXWELL, JAMES CLERK =XV= 227 + + Mayor of Zalamea, The XVI 206 + + Melancholy, Anatomy of XX + + Melmoth the Wanderer VI 205 + + Memoirs of Alexander Dumas IX 201 + + ---- from Beyond the Grave IX 134 + + ---- of the Count de Grammont IX 324 + + ---- of the Duc De La Rochefoucauld X 203 + + ---- of Edward Gibbon IX 272 + + ---- of Mirabeau X 111 + + ---- of Mme. de Staal X 238 + + Men, Representative XX 118; + see also PLUTARCH, etc. + + MENDOZA, DIEGO DE =VI= 217 + + Merchant of Venice XVIII 186 + + MEREJKOWSKI, DMITRI =VI= 227 + + MERIMEE, PROSPER =VI= 239 + + Messiah, The XVII 217 + + Metamorphoses XVIII 64 + + METCHNIKOFF, ELIE =XV= 238 _seq._ + + Mexico, History of the Conquest of XII 19 + + Middle Ages: History, see Vol XI + + ----, GESTA ROMANORUM: A Story-book of the XX 140 + + Midshipman Easy, Mr. VI 181 + + Midsummer Night's Dream, A XVIII 196 + + MIGNET, FRANCOIS =XII= 129 + + MILL, JOHN STUART =XIV= 294; XX 248 + + Mill on the Floss, The IV 85 + + MILLER, HUGH =XV= 255 + + MILMAN, HENRY =XI= 68; XII 289 + + MILTON, JOHN =XVII= 319; XX 257 + + MIRABEAU, HONORE GABRIEL COMTE DE =X= 111 + + Misanthrope, The XVIII 1 + + Miserables, Les V 122 + + Missionary Travels and Researches XIX 191 + + MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL =VI= 251 + + Modern Regime XII 177 + + MOIR, DAVID =VI= 262 + + MOLIERE =XVII= 362; XVIII 1 _seq._ + + MOMMSEN, THEODOR =XI= 215 + + MONTAIGNE =XIV= 64 + + Monte Cristo, The Count of III 304 + + MONTESQUIEU =XIV= 306 + + MOORE, THOMAS =X= 122 + + Moral Maxims, Reflections and XX 215 + + Morals and Legislation, Principles of XIV 186 + + MORE, SIR THOMAS =XIV= 315; + "Household of" VI 155 + + MORIER, JAMES =VI= 276 + + MORISON, J. A. C. =X= 135 + + MORLEY, JOHN =X= 144 + + Morte D'Arthur VI 145 + + MOTLEY, JOHN LOTHROP =XII= 220 _seq._ + + Mourning Bride, The XVI 246 + + MURRAY, DAVID CHRISTIE =VI= 288 + + My Confession (Tolstoy) X 301 + + Mysteries of Paris, The VIII 143 + + + Nathan the Wise XVII 226 + + Natural History XV 12 + + Nature XIII 349 + + ---- of Man XV 238 + + ---- of Things, On the XVII 261 + + Nelson, Life of X 226 + + Nest of Nobles, A VIII 259 + + Never Too Late to Mend VII 79 + + New Heloise, The VII 176 + + ---- Voyage Around the World, A XIX 112 + + ---- Way to Pay Old Debts, A XVII 305 + + Newcomes, The VIII 169 + + NEWMAN, CARDINAL =XIII= 185 + + NEWTON, SIR ISAAC =XV= 267 + + NIBELUNGENLIED =XVIII= 38; + see also WAGNER (Nibelungen Ring) + + Nicholas Nickleby III 154 + + Nightmare Abbey VII 15 + + Nineveh and Its Remains XIX 171 + + No Name II 249 + + Norman Conquest of England. The XI 298 + + NORRIS, FRANK =VI= 301 + + Northanger Abbey I 138 + + Notre Dame de Paris V 133 + + + Odes of Horace XVI 102 + + ---- of Pindar XVIII 75 + + Odyssey, The XVII 78 + + OHNET, GEORGES =VI= 314 + + Old Curiosity Shop, The III 179 + + ---- Goriot I 200 + + ---- Mortality VII 306 + + ---- Red Sandstone, The XV 255 + + ---- Regime XII 117 + + Oliver Twist III 166 + + On Benefits XIV 109 + + ---- Germany XX 276 + + ---- Heroes and Hero Worship XX 50 + + ---- the Height 193 + + ---- the Motion of the Heart and Blood XV 136 + + ---- the Nature of Things XVII 261 + + ---- the Principle of Population XIV 270 + + Origin of Species, The XV 43 + + Orlando Furioso XVI 51 + + Oroonoko: The Royal Slave I 255 + + Ossian XVII 272 + + OTWAY, THOMAS =XVIII= 48 + + OUIDA (LOUISE DE LA RAMEE) =VI= 326 + + Our Mutual Friend III 190 + + ---- Old Home IX 336 + + ---- Village VI 251 + + Outlines of Astronomy XV 146 + + OVID =XVIII= 64 + + OWEN, SIR RICHARD =XV= 280 + + + PAINE, THOMAS =XIII= 196; XIV 324 + + Painting, Treatise on XX 227 + + Pamela VII 106 + + Papacy, History of: XII 289 _seq._; + see also Holy Roman Empire + + Papers of the Forest School-Master VII 165 + + Paradise Lost XVII 319 + + ---- Regained XVII 342 + + Paradiso XVI 314 + + Parallel Lives XX 266 + + PARK, MUNGO =XIX= 219 + + PASCAL, BLAISE =XIII= 209 + + Passing of the Empire, The XI 30 + + Paul and Virginia VII 192 + + PAYN, JAMES =VI= 336 + + PEACOCK, THOMAS LOVE =VII= _seq._ + + Peloponnesian War XI 95 + + PENN, WILLIAM =XIII= 222 + + PEPYS, SAMUEL =X= 154 + + Peregrine Pickle VIII 76 + + Persians, The XVI 28 + + Persuasion I 174 + + Peru, History of the Conquest of XII 30 + + Peter Schlemihl, the Shadowless Man II 212 + + ---- Simple VI 193 + + Peveril of the Peak VII 318 + + Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding XVI 133 + + Philippics, The XX 99 + + Philosophy, A History of XIV 45 + + ---- of History, The XIV 1 + + ---- of Religion, The XIII 138 + + Physiognomical Fragments XV 191 + + Pickwick Papers III 201 + + Pilgrim's Progress, The II 136 + + Pilgrimage to El Medinah and Meccah, A XIX 67 + + Pillars of Society, The XVII 186 + + PINDAR =XVIII= 75 + + Pit, The VI 301 + + Pitt, Life of William X 248 + + Plague Year, Journal of the XX 90 + + PLATO =XIV= 75 _seq._ + + PLINY, THE YOUNGER =X= 166 + + PLUTARCH =XX= 266 + + Poems of Catullus XVI 219 + + ---- of Horace XVII 91 + + ---- of Martial XVII 295 + + Poetry and Truth from my Own Life IX 291 + + ----: see also Laocoon, Literature, etc. + + Poets, Lectures on the English XX 169 + + Political Testament of Cardinal Richelieu X 178 + + ---- Economy, Principles of XIV 294 + + POLO, MARCO =XIX= 229 + + POPE, ALEXANDER =XVIII= 94 + + Popes, History of the: See Papacy + + Population, On the Principle of XIV 270 + + PORTER, JANE =VII= 28 + + Positive Philosophy, A Course of XIV 224 + + PRESCOTT, WILLIAM HICKLING =XII= 19 _seq._; XII 271 + + Pride and Prejudice I 123 + + Prince, The XIV 261 + + Principall Navigations, The XIV 148 + + Principia XV 267 + + Principles of Biology XIV 133 + + ---- of Geology, The XV 215 + + ---- of Human Knowledge XIII 329 + + ---- of Morals and Legislation XIV 186 + + ---- of Political Economy XIV 294 + + ---- of Sociology XIV 145 + + Progress and Poverty XIV 238 + + Prolongation of Life XV 246 + + Prometheus Bound XVI 38 + + Purgatorio XVI 307 + + PUSHKIN, ALEXANDER SERGEYVITCH =VII= 42 + + + Quentin Durward VIII 1 + + Quest of the Absolute, The I 227 + + + RABELAIS, FRANCOIS =VII= 54 + + RACINE, JEAN =XVIII= 106 + + RANKE, LEOPOLD VON =XII= 301 + + Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia V 199 + + Ravenshoe V 319 + + READE, CHARLES =VII= 68 _seq._ + + Reflections and Moral Maxims XX 215 + + ---- on the Revolution in France XIV 212 + + Religio Medici XIII 66 + + RENAN, ERNEST =XIII= 231 + + Renee Mauperin IV 289 + + Representative Men XX 118 + + Republic, Plato's XIV 84 + + Revolt of Islam, The XVIII 214 + + Rheingold XVIII 305 + + RICHARDSON, SAMUEL =VII= 106 _seq._ + + RICHELIEU, CARDINAL =X= 178 + + RICHTER, JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH =VII= 143 _seq._ + + Rights of Man, The =XIV= 324 + + Robinson Crusoe III 26 + + Rob Roy VIII 13 + + Rochefoucauld: See LA ROCHEFOUCAULD + + Roderick Random VIII 64 + + Romance of a Poor Young Man IV 110 + + ROMANCE OF THE ROSE =XVIII= 117 + + Romany Rye, The II 13 + + Rome, History of XI 144 _seq._ + + Romeo and Juliet XVIII 203 + + Romola IV 58 + + ROSSEGGER, PETER =VII= 165 + + ROUSSEAU, JEAN JACQUES =VII= 176; =X= 190 (Confessions); XIV 337 + + Russia Under Peter the Great XII 259 + + Ruy Blas XVII 134 + + + SAINT PIERRE, BERNARDIN DE =VII= 192; XIX 241 + + Saints' Everlasting Rest, The XIII 37 + + Salathiel, or Tarry Thou Till I Come II 324 + + SALLUST, CAIUS CRISPUS =XI= 168 + + Samson Agonistes XVII 349 + + Samuel Brohl and Company II 235 + + SAND, GEORGE =VII= 205 _seq._ + + Sandford and Merton III 14 + + Sartor Resartus XX 61 + + Satires of Juvenal XVII 207 + + ---- of Horace XVI 91 + + ----: see also ERASMUS, GOLDSMITH, etc. + + Savonarola, Life of Girolamo X 312 + + Scarlet Letter, The V 50 + + SCHILLER, FRIEDRICH VON =XVIII= 129; + "Life of" =IX= 111 + + SCHLIEMANN, HEINRICH =XI= 132 + + School for Scandal, The XVIII 226 + + ---- for Wives, The XVIII 14 + + SCHOPENHAUER, ARTHUR =XIV= 99 + + SCOTT, MICHAEL =VII= 229 + + SCOTT, SIR WALTER =VII= 241 _seq._; VIII 1 _seq._; XVIII 147 _seq._; + "Life of" =X= 70 + + Scottish Chiefs, The VII 28 + + SENECA, L. ANNAEUS =XIV= 109 + + Sense and Sensibility I 109 + + Senses of Insects, The XV 95 + + Sentimental Journey through France and Italy XIX 263 + + SEVIGNE, Mme. DE =X= 216 + + Shadow of the Sword, The II 111 + + SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM =XVIII= 170 _seq._ + + SHELLEY, MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT =VIII= 41 + + SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE =XVIII= 214 + + SHERIDAN, RICHARD BRINSLEY =XVIII= 226 + + She Stoops to Conquer XVII 39 + + Shirley II 71 + + SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP =VIII= 54 + + Siegfried XVIII 327 + + Silas Marner IV 73 + + Silence of Dean Maitland, The V 1 + + Simple Story, A V 174 + + Sir Charles Grandison VII 130 + + SMITH, ADAM =XIV= 350 + + Smoke VIII 272 + + SMOLLETT, TOBIAS =VIII= 64 _seq._ + + Social Contract, The XIV 337 + + Sociology, Principles of XIV 145 + + Socrates, Apology or Defence of XIV 75 + + Some Fruits of Solitude XIII 222 + + SOPHOCLES =XVIII= 237 + + Sorrows of Young Werther IV 253 + + SOUTHEY, ROBERT =X= 226 + + Spain: (Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella) XII 271 + + Spectator, The XX 1 + + SPEKE, JOHN HANNING =XIX= 251 + + SPENCER, HERBERT =XIV= 120 _seq._ + + SPINOZA, BENEDICT DE =XIV= 160 + + Spirit of Laws, The XIV 306 + + Spy, The II 297 + + STAAL, Mme. DE =X= 238 + + STAEL, Mme. DE =VIII= 89; XX 276 + + STANHOPE, EARL =X= 248 + + STANLEY, ARTHUR PENRHYN =X= 260 + + STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE) =VIII= 103 + + STERNE, LAURENCE VIII 117; =XIX= 263 + + STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER =VIII= 130 + + Stafford XVI 165 + + STRICKLAND, AGNES =X= 270 + + Struggle of the Nations, The XI 20 + + SUE, EUGENE =VIII= 143 + + Surface of the Globe, The XV 33 + + Sweden (History of Charles XII) XII 280 + + SWEDENBORG, EMANUEL =XIII= 249 + + SWIFT, JONATHAN =VIII= 157; X 282 + + Sybil, or The Two Nations III 243 + + + Table Talk by Martin Luther X 102 + + TACITUS, PUBLIUS CORNELIUS =XI= 156; XX 286 + + TAINE, HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE =XII= 177; XX 298 + + Tale of Two Cities III 213 + + Tales from Shakespeare XVIII 170 + + Talisman, The VIII 25 + + TALMUD, THE =XIII= 259 + + Tancred III 256 + + Tartarin of Tarascon III 1 + + Tartuffe XVIII 29 + + Task, The XVI 290 + + TASSO, TORQUATO =XVIII= 250 + + TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD =XVIII= 261 _seq._ + + THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE =VIII= 169 _seq._ + + Theory of the Earth XV 170 + + THOMSON, JAMES =XVIII= 293 + + THOREAU, HENRY DAVID =XX= 312 + + Three Musketeers, The III 316 + + THUCYDIDES =XI= 95 + + Timar's Two Worlds V 212 + + Timbuctoo the Mysterious XIX 136 + + Titan VII 152 + + TOCQUEVILLE, DE =XII= 117; XX 324 + + Toilers of the Sea, The V 146 + + TOLSTOY, COUNT =VIII= 205; =X= 291 _seq._ (Confession, etc.) + + Tom Brown's Schooldays V 99 + + Tom Brown at Oxford V 110 + + ---- Burke of Ours VI 39 + + ---- Cringle's Log VII 229 + + ---- Jones IV 155 + + Tour in Lapland, A XIX 181 + + Tower of London I 17 + + Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The XVII + + Travels on the Amazon XIX 285 + + ---- to Discover the Source of the Nile XIX 47 + + Travels in France XIX 327 + + ---- in the Interior of Africa XIX 219 + + ---- of Marco Polo XIX 229 + + ---- in Nubia XIX 57 + + Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism, A XV 227 + + ---- on Painting XX 227 + + Tristram Shandy VIII 117 + + TROLLOPE, ANTHONY =VIII= 221 _seq._ + + Troy and Its Remains XI 32 + + TURGENEV, IVAN =VIII= 245 _seq._ + + Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea VIII 287 + + ---- Years After III 331 + + Two Years Ago V 270 + + ---- before the Mast II 335 + + + Uncle Silas VI 1 + + ---- Tom's Cabin VIII 130 + + Under Two Flags VI 326 + + Undine IV 180 + + United Netherlands, History of the XII 234 + + ---- States, History of XII 1; + see also America + + Urania IV 168 + + Utopia: Nowhereland XIV 315 + + + Valkyrie XVIII 316 + + Vanity Fair VIII 192 + + Venice Preserved XVIII 48 + + VERNE, JULES =VIII= 287 + + Vertebrates, Anatomy of XV 280 + + Vestiges of Creation XV 22 + + Vicar of Wakefield, The IV 175 + + View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages XI 155 + + VILLARI, PASQUALE =X= 312 + + Villette II 83 + + VINCI, LEONARDO DA =XX= 227 + + VIRCHOW, RUDOLF =XV= 292 + + Virginians, The VIII 181 + + VOLTAIRE =XII= 101; XII 259; XII 280; XIX 275 + + Von Ranke: see RANKE, VON + + Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle, The XIX 124 + + ---- to the Isle of France XIX 241 + + Voyage to the Moon, A I 265 + + ---- and Travel XIX 210 + + Voyages Round the World XIX 100 + + + WAGNER, WILHELM RICHARD =XVIII= 305 _seq._ + + Walden XX 312 + + WALLACE, ALFRED RUSSELL =XIX= 285 + + WALPOLE, HORACE =VIII= 303 + + WALTON, ISAAK =XX= 334 + + Wanderings in South America XIX 313 + + War, The Future of XIV 199 + + WARBURTON, ELIOT =XIX= 299 + + Warden, The VIII 221 + + Wars of the Jews XI 55 + + Washington, Life of George X 51 + + Water-Babies V 282 + + Waterloo IV 97 + + WATERTON, CHARLES =XIX= 313 + + Way of the World, The VI 288 + + ---- ---- ---- ----, The XVI 253 + + Wealth of Nations, The XIV 350 + + Werther, Sorrows of Young IV 253 + + WESLEY, JOHN =X= 327 + + Westward Ho! V 294 + + Wild North Land, The XIX 89 + + ---- Wales XIX 13 + + Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship IV 263 + + William Tell XVIII 129 + + Woman in White, The II 262 + + WOOLMAN, JOHN =X= 341 + + World as Will and Idea, The XIV 99 + + Wuthering Heights II 97 + + + XENOPHON =XI= 110 + + + YOUNG, ARTHUR =XIX= 327 + + + Zelter, Goethe's Letters to IX 283 + + ZOLA, EMILE =VIII= 318 + + Zoological Philosophy XV 179 + + ZOROASTRIANISM =XIII= 76 + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + +The Index in this eBook uses Roman numerals to reference all twenty +volumes of this series. Most of those volumes are available at no +charge from Project Gutenberg: + + VOLUME PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK + I: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10471 + II: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10643 + III: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10748 + IV: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10921 + V: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10993 + VI: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11180 + VII: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11527 + VIII: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11659 + IX: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12059 + X: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12572 + XI: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12745 + XII: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12845 + XIII: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13620 + XIV: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25009 + XV: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25509 + XVI: not available when this eBook was produced + XVII: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44640 + XVIII: not available when this eBook was produced + XIX: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23998 + XX: this volume + +Links to those volumes have been included for use on devices that +support them. 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