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Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Print archive.
AT START AND FINISH
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
APPLES OF ISTAKHAR
AT
START AND FINISH
William Lindsey
[Illustration]
Boston
Small, Maynard & Company
1899
_Copyright, 1896,_ by
COPELAND AND DAY
* * * * *
_Copyright, 1899,_ by
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
TO THE
ATHLETIC TEAMS OF OLD ENGLAND
AND NEW ENGLAND, OXFORD, CAMBRIDGE,
HARVARD, AND YALE, WHO
MET IN LONDON JULY 22, 1899, GOOD
WINNERS AND PLUCKY LOSERS,
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK
NOTE.
In the present volume I have drawn freely on my previous collection (now
out of print), "Cinder-path Tales," omitting some material, but adding
much more that is new.
I have also added headpieces, in which my suggestions have been very
cleverly carried out by the artist, W. B. Gilbert.
W. L.
CONTENTS
PAGE
OLD ENGLAND AND NEW ENGLAND 1
MY FIRST, FOR MONEY 36
THE HOLLOW HAMMER 62
HIS NAME IS MUD 91
HOW KITTY QUEERED THE "MILE" 107
ATHERTON'S LAST "HALF" 131
THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE 153
A VIRGINIA JUMPER 176
AND EVERY ONE A WINNER 213
[Illustration: Old England and New England]
It is something of an experience for an Englishman, after thirty years'
absence, to stand on the steps of "Morley's" and face the sunlight of
Trafalgar Square. He may not own a foot of English soil, he may have no
friend left to meet him, he may even have become a citizen of the Great
Republic, but he cannot look at the tall shaft on which the "little
sailor" stands without a breath of pride, a mist in his eye, and a lump
in his throat.
It was early afternoon of a warm July day. There was barely enough wind
to blow the spray of the fountains, and the water itself rose straight
in the soft air. I stood contentedly watching the endless procession of
busses, hansoms, and four-wheelers, with the occasional coster's cart,
and asked for nothing more. Long-eared "Neddy" dragging "Arry,"
"Arriet," and a load of gooseberries was a combination on which my eye
rested with peculiar fascination. No amateur "whip" in a red coat on a
bottle-green coach could handle the "ribbons" over four "choice uns"
with a finer air than "Arry" as he swung through the line and came
clicking up the street. I would rather see him pass than the Lord Mayor
in his chariot. I must have stood on the top step of "Morley's" for a
good half-hour, not caring even to smoke, so sweet was the smell of a
London street to me.
I was thinking, as a man must at such a time, of old days and old
friends,--not dismally, but with a certain sense of loss,--when a tall
gentleman came slowly up the steps and stopped immediately in front of
me. I moved aside, although there was plenty of room for him to pass;
but still he looked at me gravely, and at last held out a big brown hand
and said, as if we had parted only yesterday, "Well, Walter, old man,
how are you?" I was a bit in doubt at first. He was so tall that his
eyes were nearly on a level with my own, his figure erect and soldierly,
his face bronzed as if from long exposure to a tropic sun. Only when he
smiled did I know him, and then we gripped hands hard, our fingers
clinging until we saw we were attracting the notice of those around us.
Then our hands unclasped, and feeling a bit foolish over our emotion, we
sat down together.
At first we talked of commonplaces, though all the time I was thinking
of an evening more than thirty years ago when we stood together on the
river path, under the shadows of old Oxford towers, and said,
"Good-bye." He then offered to stand by me when the friendship would
have cost him something, and I declined the sacrifice. Would it have
been better? Who can tell?
Our first thoughts were a bit serious, perhaps, but our second became
decidedly cheerful at meeting again after so long a time. I learned that
he was "Colonel" Patterson, having gained his regiment a good ten years
ago; that he had spent nearly all his time in India; that he had been
invalided home; that he was, like myself, unmarried, and that he found
himself rather "out of it" after all these years away from the "old
country."
I told how I had gone to America, where, finding all other talents
unmarketable, I had become first a professional runner, and later a
college trainer. To this occupation, in which I had been something of a
success, I had given many years until a small invention had made me
independent, and a man of leisure in a modest way. I saw he was a bit
disappointed when I told him I had been forced to "turn pro." in order
to obtain my bread and butter. I knew exactly how he felt, and well did
I remember my sorrow when I dropped the "Mr." from my name. It is not a
particularly high-sounding title, but to appreciate it at its true value
a man need only to lose it and become plain "Smith," "Jones," or
"Robinson." That nothing could raise the "pale spectre of the salt"
between Frank Patterson and myself, not even going outside the pale of
the "gentleman amateur," I was very certain.
But when I told him a little later that I had become a full-fledged
citizen of the United States, he could not conceal his surprise,
although he said but little at first.
We talked of other things for a while, and then my friend came back to
what I knew he had been thinking about all the time, and he asked me
bluntly how it was I had come to give up the nation of my birth.
"It seemed only fair," I answered, "that I should become a citizen of
the country in which I obtained my living, whose laws protected me, in
which most of my friends were resident, and where I expected sometime to
be buried."
At this the Colonel was silent for a little while, and then he remarked
rather doubtfully: "I cannot make up my mind just what the Americans are
like. Are they what Kipling declared them in the 'Pioneer Mail' some
ten years ago, when he cursed them root and branch, or what the same man
said of them a few years later, when he affirmed just as strongly, 'I
love them' and 'They'll be the biggest, finest, and best people on the
surface of the globe'? Such contradictory statements are confusing to a
plain soldier with nothing more than the average amount of intelligence.
What is the use, too, of calling them Anglo-Saxon? They are, in fact, a
mixture of Celt, Teuton, Gaul, Slav, with a modicum of Saxon blood, and
I know not what else."
I could not help smiling a little at the Colonel's earnestness. I tried
to tell him that the American was essentially Anglo-Saxon in spite of
all the mixture; that his traditions, aims, and sentiments were very
much like his own; that he had the same language, law, and literature;
that the boys read "Tom Brown at Rugby," and the old men Shakespeare,
Browning, and Kipling. I told him that the boys played English games
with but slight changes, and that they boxed like English boys, and
their fathers fought like English men.
"Yes," said the Colonel, at last interrupting my flow of eloquence, "I
heard the statement made at the Army and Navy Club only last night, that
the American soldier was close to our 'Tommy,' and that the Yankee
sailor was second to none. Yet all the time I cannot adjust myself to
the fact that he is 'one of us.' Perhaps if I saw some typical Americans
I should be a little less at sea."
"Well," I answered, "if that is what you want, I can give you plenty of
opportunity. This afternoon occur the athletic games between Oxford and
Cambridge on the one hand, and Harvard and Yale on the other. I am going
with a party of Americans; we have seats in the American section, and I
have a spare ticket which you can use as well as not. You can study the
'genus Americana' at your leisure, and see some mighty good sport
meanwhile."
"That would suit my book exactly," declared the Colonel; and he had
scarcely spoken before I saw Tom Furness standing in the entrance of the
hotel evidently looking for me. He was clad, despite the heat, in a long
Prince Albert coat which fitted him like a glove, and wore a tall silk
hat as well. He saw me almost immediately, and a moment later was
shaking hands with the Colonel. The latter was dressed in a
loose-fitting suit of gray flannel and sported a very American-looking
straw hat, so that Tom really appeared the more English of the two.
Which was the finer specimen of a man it would be hard to say, and one
might not match them in a day's journey. They were almost exactly of a
height, the Colonel not more erect than Tom, and not quite as broad of
chest. The latter certainly had not the Colonel's clean-cut face, but
there was something about his rather irregular features that would
attract attention anywhere. I was pleased to see, too, that he gave to
the Colonel a touch of the deference due his age and rank, which I admit
some of Tom's countrymen might have forgotten.
Furness was very cordial, too. "We are in great luck," he declared, "to
have the Colonel with us, for a little later we should have been gone.
It is about time to start now, after, of course, a little something to
fortify us against the drive." So he took us into the smoking-room,
where he introduced the Colonel to Harry Gardiner and Jim Harding. He
also made him acquainted with a Manhattan cocktail, which the Colonel
imbibed with some hesitation, but found very decidedly to his liking.
Tom explained that he had taught them how to make it himself that very
morning, and that it could not be bettered in all London.
Furness always constitutes himself host if he has the least excuse for
so doing. It is a way he has. Nothing but a man's own hearthstone in
his own particular castle stops him. He takes possession of all neutral
ground like that of a hotel, and considers it his duty to make matters
pleasant for all around him.
Harding and Gardiner were a half-dozen years younger than Furness, and
it was not many years since I had trained them for very much the same
kind of games as those of the afternoon. Harding was a big fellow, with
broad shoulders, and a mop of yellow hair. He had been a mighty good man
in his day with both "shot" and "hammer." Harry Gardiner had been a
sprinter,--one of the best starters I ever knew,--and a finisher, too,
which does not always follow. The Colonel got along very well with them
all,--a little reserved at first, and studying all three of them in a
very quiet way. He could sometimes not quite make out what Harding, who
had a very choice vocabulary of Americanisms, was driving at, and one or
two of Tom's jokes he failed utterly to comprehend; but he seemed to
understand the men themselves fairly well, nevertheless. We chatted
together a few minutes, and then Furness declared it was time to start,
producing cigars which would have tempted a modern Adam more than any
apple in the Garden of Eden. So the Colonel and myself left the others,
and were soon comfortably ensconced in a clean hansom, behind a good
piece of horseflesh, and bowling along toward the Queen's Club Grounds
at a very respectable rate of speed.
We enjoyed our ride very thoroughly, and arrived at the Comeragh Road
entrance almost too soon, for the crowd was only beginning to gather. We
obtained programmes, and entering the gateway found ourselves in full
view of the grounds at once.
A mighty fine sight they were, too, the stretch of level greensward,
hard and velvety, with the dark brown cinder-path encircling it. The
seats rose on all sides but one, and there, outside the fence, was the
fringe of waving trees, and the red brick houses, trim and neat. Over
all was the soft blue sky, with here and there a drifting cloud. I could
see the Colonel's eyes glisten. He had spent the best part of his life
in a country which alternated between the baked brown clay of the dry
season and the wild luxuriance that followed the rains. He went to the
very outside edge of the track, and took a careful step or two on it,
examining it with the eye of a connoisseur, for he knew something of a
track, although he had not seen one for many years. "'Tis fast," said
he, knowingly. "With the heat and calm the conditions are right enough,
and the men will have nobody to blame but themselves if they do not come
close to the records."
We walked slowly by the telegraph office, and back of the tennis courts.
As we passed the Tea-room we could see a few people at the tables, and
quite a little group was gathered around the Members' Pavilion. We went
by the Royal Box, with its crimson draperies, and found our seats close
to the finish of the hundred-yard, half, mile, and three-mile runs. The
Colonel gave himself at once to the careful examination of the
programme, as did I myself. The "Oxford and Cambridge" was printed in
dark blue ink, and "Harvard and Yale" in crimson. For stewards there
were C. N. Jackson and Lees Knowles, the former once the finest hurdler
in England. For the Americans, E. J. Wendell and C. H. Sherrill
officiated; many a bit of red worsted had I seen the latter break across
the sea. Judges, referee, and timekeeper were alike well known on both
continents, and had all heard the crunch of a running shoe as it bit
into the cinders. Wilkinson of Sheffield was to act as "starter."
"He has the reputation of never having allowed a fraction to be stolen
on his pistol," remarked the Colonel.
"Let him watch Blount to-day then," I said.
The Colonel ran his finger down the list. "Nine contests in all. One of
strength, three of endurance, two of speed, two of activity, and the
'quarter' only is left where speed and bottom are both needed. How will
they come out?" he asked.
"About five to four," I answered, "but I cannot name the winner. On form
Old England should pull off the 'broad jump,' the'mile' and 'three
miles,' and New England is quite sure of the 'hammer' and 'high jump.'
This leaves the 'hundred' and 'hurdles,' the 'quarter' and 'half' to be
fought out, although of course nothing is sure but death and taxes."
"I suppose it will be easy to distinguish the men by their style and
manner," said the Colonel.
"You will not see much difference," I replied. "The Americans wear the
colors more conspicuously, Harvard showing crimson, and Yale dark blue.
'Tis the same shade as Oxford's. The Americans have also the letters 'H'
and 'Y' marked plainly on the breasts of their jerseys. There are some
of the contestants arriving now," I remarked, pointing across the track;
"would you like to see them before they strip?"
"I certainly would," he answered; and we slipped out of our seats and
around the track to the Members' Pavilion, in front of which they stood.
Just before we reached them, however, we met Furness, Harding, and
Gardiner, the former holding a little chap about ten years old by the
hand, who was evidently his "sire's son," for his eyes were big with
excitement and pleasure.
"Which are they?" inquired the Colonel, a little doubtfully. "That chap
in front is an English lad or I miss my guess," looking admiringly at a
young giant apparently not more than twenty years old, and perhaps the
finest-looking one of the lot. His hat was in his hand, his eyes were
bright, and skin clear, with a color that only perfect condition brings.
"No," I answered, rather pleased at his mistake; "that is a Harvard
Freshman, though he bears a good old English name. Since Tom of Rugby,
the Browns have had a name or two in about every good sporting event on
earth. Would you like to know him?" I asked, for just then the young
fellow spied me out and came forward to meet me with a smile of
recognition. I was quite willing to introduce H. J. Brown to the
Colonel, although it was hardly fair to present him as a sample of an
American boy. As Tom would have said, it was showing the top of a
"deaconed | 3,135.752077 |
2023-11-16 19:09:19.7328360 | 3,577 | 162 |
Produced by Charles Keller
THE HISTORY OF THE TELEPHONE
By Herbert N. Casson
PREFACE
Thirty-five short years, and presto! the newborn art of telephony is
fullgrown. Three million telephones are now scattered abroad in foreign
countries, and seven millions are massed here, in the land of its birth.
So entirely has the telephone outgrown the ridicule with which, as many
people can well remember, it was first received, that it is now in
most places taken for granted, as though it were a part of the natural
phenomena of this planet. It has so marvellously extended the
facilities of conversation--that "art in which a man has all mankind for
competitors"--that it is now an indispensable help to whoever would
live the convenient life. The disadvantage of being deaf and dumb to
all absent persons, which was universal in pre-telephonic days, has now
happily been overcome; and I hope that this story of how and by whom it
was done will be a welcome addition to American libraries.
It is such a story as the telephone itself might tell, if it could speak
with a voice of its own. It is not technical. It is not statistical. It
is not exhaustive. It is so brief, in fact, that a second volume could
readily be made by describing the careers of telephone leaders whose
names I find have been omitted unintentionally from this book--such
indispensable men, for instance, as William R. Driver, who has signed
more telephone cheques and larger ones than any other man; Geo. S.
Hibbard, Henry W. Pope, and W. D. Sargent, three veterans who know
telephony in all its phases; George Y. Wallace, the last survivor of the
Rocky Mountain pioneers; Jasper N. Keller, of Texas and New England;
W. T. Gentry, the central figure of the Southeast, and the following
presidents of telephone companies: Bernard E. Sunny, of Chicago; E. B.
Field, of Denver; D. Leet Wilson, of Pittsburg; L. G. Richardson, of
Indianapolis; Caspar E. Yost, of Omaha; James E. Caldwell, of Nashville;
Thomas Sherwin, of Boston; Henry T. Scott, of San Francisco; H. J.
Pettengill, of Dallas; Alonzo Burt, of Milwaukee; John Kilgour, of
Cincinnati; and Chas. S. Gleed, of Kansas City.
I am deeply indebted to most of these men for the information which
is herewith presented; and also to such pioneers, now dead, as O. E.
Madden, the first General Agent; Frank L. Pope, the noted electrical
expert; C. H. Haskins, of Milwaukee; George F. Ladd, of San Francisco;
and Geo. F. Durant, of St. Louis.
H. N. C. PINE HILL, N. Y., June 1, 1910.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE BIRTH OF THE TELEPHONE
II THE BUILDING OF THE BUSINESS
III THE HOLDING OF THE BUSINESS
IV THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ART
V THE EXPANSION OF THE BUSINESS
VI NOTABLE USERS OF THE TELEPHONE
VII THE TELEPHONE AND NATIONAL EFFICIENCY
VIII THE TELEPHONE IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES
IX THE FUTURE OF THE TELEPHONE
THE HISTORY OF THE TELEPHONE
CHAPTER I. THE BIRTH OF THE TELEPHONE
In that somewhat distant year 1875, when the telegraph and the Atlantic
cable were the most wonderful things in the world, a tall young
professor of elocution was desperately busy in a noisy machine-shop
that stood in one of the narrow streets of Boston, not far from Scollay
Square. It was a very hot afternoon in June, but the young professor had
forgotten the heat and the grime of the workshop. He was wholly absorbed
in the making of a nondescript machine, a sort of crude harmonica with
a clock-spring reed, a magnet, and a wire. It was a most absurd toy in
appearance. It was unlike any other thing that had ever been made in any
country. The young professor had been toiling over it for three years
and it had constantly baffled him, until, on this hot afternoon in June,
1875, he heard an almost inaudible sound--a faint TWANG--come from the
machine itself.
For an instant he was stunned. He had been expecting just such a sound
for several months, but it came so suddenly as to give him the sensation
of surprise. His eyes blazed with delight, and he sprang in a passion of
eagerness to an adjoining room in which stood a young mechanic who was
assisting him.
"Snap that reed again, Watson," cried the apparently irrational young
professor. There was one of the odd-looking machines in each room, so
it appears, and the two were connected by an electric wire. Watson had
snapped the reed on one of the machines and the professor had heard from
the other machine exactly the same sound. It was no more than the gentle
TWANG of a clock-spring; but it was the first time in the history of the
world that a complete sound had been carried along a wire, reproduced
perfectly at the other end, and heard by an expert in acoustics.
That twang of the clock-spring was the first tiny cry of the newborn
telephone, uttered in the clanging din of a machine-shop and happily
heard by a man whose ear had been trained to recognize the strange voice
of the little newcomer. There, amidst flying belts and jarring wheels,
the baby telephone was born, as feeble and helpless as any other baby,
and "with no language but a cry."
The professor-inventor, who had thus rescued the tiny foundling of
science, was a young Scottish American. His name, now known as widely
as the telephone itself, was Alexander Graham Bell. He was a teacher
of acoustics and a student of electricity, possibly the only man in his
generation who was able to focus a knowledge of both subjects upon the
problem of the telephone. To other men that exceedingly faint sound
would have been as inaudible as silence itself; but to Bell it was a
thunder-clap. It was a dream come true. It was an impossible thing which
had in a flash become so easy that he could scarcely believe it. Here,
without the use of a battery, with no more electric current than that
made by a couple of magnets, all the waves of a sound had been carried
along a wire and changed back to sound at the farther end. It was
absurd. It was incredible. It was something which neither wire nor
electricity had been known to do before. But it was true.
No discovery has ever been less accidental. It was the last link of
a long chain of discoveries. It was the result of a persistent and
deliberate search. Already, for half a year or longer, Bell had known
the correct theory of the telephone; but he had not realized that the
feeble undulatory current generated by a magnet was strong enough
for the transmission of speech. He had been taught to undervalue the
incredible efficiency of electricity.
Not only was Bell himself a teacher of the laws of speech, so highly
skilled that he was an instructor in Boston University. His father,
also, his two brothers, his uncle, and his grandfather had taught the
laws of speech in the universities of Edinburgh, Dublin, and London.
For three generations the Bells had been professors of the science
of talking. They had even helped to create that science by several
inven-tions. The first of them, Alexander Bell, had invented a system
for the correction of stammering and similar defects of speech. The
second, Alexander Melville Bell, was the dean of British elocutionists,
a man of creative brain and a most impressive facility of rhetoric. He
was the author of a dozen text-books on the art of speaking correctly,
and also of a most ingenious sign-language which he called "Visible
Speech." Every letter in the alphabet of this language represented a
certain action of the lips and tongue; so that a new method was provided
for those who wished to learn foreign languages or to speak their own
language more correctly. And the third of these speech-improving Bells,
the inventor of the telephone, inherited the peculiar genius of his
fathers, both inventive and rhetorical, to such a degree that as a boy
he had constructed an artificial skull, from gutta-percha and India
rubber, which, when enlivened by a blast of air from a hand-bellows,
would actually pronounce several words in an almost human manner.
The third Bell, the only one of this remarkable family who concerns us
at this time, was a young man, barely twenty-eight, at the time when his
ear caught the first cry of the telephone. But he was already a man of
some note on his own account. He had been educated in Edinburgh, the
city of his birth, and in London; and had in one way and another picked
up a smattering of anatomy, music, electricity, and telegraphy. Until he
was sixteen years of age, he had read nothing but novels and poetry and
romantic tales of Scottish heroes. Then he left home to become a teacher
of elocution in various British schools, and by the time he was of age
he had made several slight discoveries as to the nature of vowel-sounds.
Shortly afterwards, he met in London two distinguished men, Alexander J.
Ellis and Sir Charles Wheatstone, who did far more than they ever knew
to forward Bell in the direction of the telephone.
Ellis was the president of the London Philological Society. Also, he was
the translator of the famous book on "The Sensations of Tone," written
by Helmholtz, who, in the period from 1871 to 1894 made Berlin the
world-centre for the study of the physical sciences. So it happened that
when Bell ran to Ellis as a young enthusiast and told his experiments,
Ellis informed him that Helmholtz had done the same things several years
before and done them more completely. He brought Bell to his house and
showed him what Helmholtz had done--how he had kept tuning-forks in
vibration by the power of electro-magnets, and blended the tones of
several tuning-forks together to produce the complex quality of the
human voice.
Now, Helmholtz had not been trying to invent a telephone, nor any sort
of message-carrier. His aim was to point out the physical basis of
music, and nothing more. But this fact that an electro-magnet would set
a tuning-fork humming was new to Bell and very attractive. It appealed
at once to him as a student of speech. If a tuning-fork could be made to
sing by a magnet or an electrified wire, why would it not be possible
to make a musical telegraph--a telegraph with a piano key-board, so that
many messages could be sent at once over a single wire? Unknown to Bell,
there were several dozen inven-tors then at work upon this problem,
which proved in the end to be very elusive. But it gave him at least a
starting-point, and he forthwith commenced his quest of the telephone.
As he was then in England, his first step was naturally to visit Sir
Charles Wheatstone, the best known English expert on telegraphy. Sir
Charles had earned his title by many inventions. He was a simple-natured
scientist, and treated Bell with the utmost kindness. He showed him an
ingenious talking-machine that had been made by Baron de Kempelin. At
this time Bell was twenty-two and unknown; Wheatstone was sixty-seven
and famous. And the personality of the veteran scientist made so vivid
a picture upon the mind of the impressionable young Bell that the grand
passion of science became henceforth the master-motif of his life.
From this summit of glorious ambition he was thrown, several months
later, into the depths of grief and despondency. The White Plague had
come to the home in Edinburgh and taken away his two brothers. More, it
had put its mark upon the young inventor himself. Nothing but a change
of climate, said his doctor, would put him out of danger. And so, to
save his life, he and his father and mother set sail from Glasgow and
came to the small Canadian town of Brantford, where for a year he fought
down his tendency to consumption, and satisfied his nervous energy by
teaching "Visible Speech" to a tribe of Mohawk Indians.
By this time it had become evident, both to his parents and to his
friends, that young Graham was destined to become some sort of a
creative genius. He was tall and supple, with a pale complexion, large
nose, full lips, jet-black eyes, and jet-black hair, brushed high
and usually rumpled into a curly tangle. In temperament he was a true
scientific Bohemian, with the ideals of a savant and the disposition
of an artist. He was wholly a man of enthusiasms, more devoted to ideas
than to people; and less likely to master his own thoughts than to be
mastered by them. He had no shrewdness, in any commercial sense, and
very little knowledge of the small practical details of ordinary living.
He was always intense, always absorbed. When he applied his mind to a
problem, it became at once an enthralling arena, in which there went
whirling a chariot-race of ideas and inventive fancies.
He had been fascinated from boyhood by his father's system of "Visible
Speech." He knew it so well that he once astonished a professor of
Oriental languages by repeating correctly a sentence of Sanscrit that
had been written in "Visible Speech" characters. While he was living in
London his most absorbing enthusiasm was the instruction of a class of
deaf-mutes, who could be trained to talk, he believed, by means of the
"Visible Speech" alphabet. He was so deeply impressed by the progress
made by these pupils, and by the pathos of their dumbness, that when he
arrived in Canada he was in doubt as to which of these two tasks was the
more important--the teaching of deaf-mutes or the invention of a musical
telegraph.
At this point, and before Bell had begun to experiment with his
telegraph, the scene of the story shifts from Canada to Massachusetts.
It appears that his father, while lecturing in Boston, had mentioned
Graham's exploits with a class of deaf-mutes; and soon afterward the
Boston Board of Education wrote to Graham, offering him five hundred
dollars if he would come to Boston and introduce his system of teaching
in a school for deaf-mutes that had been opened recently. The young man
joyfully agreed, and on the first of April, 1871, crossed the line and
became for the remainder of his life an American.
For the next two years his telegraphic work was laid aside, if not
forgotten. His success as a teacher of deaf-mutes was sudden and
overwhelming. It was the educational sensation of 1871. It won him a
professorship in Boston University; and brought so many pupils around
him that he ventured to open an ambitious "School of Vocal Physiology,"
which became at once a profitable enterprise. For a time there seemed
to be little hope of his escaping from the burden of this success and
becoming an inventor, when, by a most happy coincidence, two of his
pupils brought to him exactly the sort of stimulation and practical help
that he needed and had not up to this time received.
One of these pupils was a little deaf-mute tot, five years of age, named
Georgie Sanders. Bell had agreed to give him a series of private lessons
for $350 a year; and as the child lived with his grandmother in the city
of Salem, sixteen miles from Boston, it was agreed that Bell should make
his home with the Sanders family. Here he not only found the keenest
interest and sympathy in his air-castles of invention, but also was
given permission to use the cellar of the house as his workshop.
For the next three years this cellar was his favorite retreat. He
littered it with tuning-forks, magnets, batteries, coils of wire, tin
trumpets, and cigar | 3,135.752876 |
2023-11-16 19:09:20.0277600 | 3,217 | 53 |
Produced by Clare Graham & Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature
(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.)
THE DOWNFALL
(LA DÉBÂCLE)
_A STORY OF THE HORRORS OF WAR_
BY
ÉMILE ZOLA
TRANSLATED BY ERNEST A. VIZETELLY
WAR CORRESPONDENT 1870-1
_NEW AND REVISED EDITION_
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1893
PREFACE
Before the present translation of M. Zola's novel, 'La Débâcle,'
appeared in 'The Weekly Times and Echo,' in which it was originally
issued, the author was interviewed for that journal by Mr. Robert H.
Sherard, whom he favoured with some interesting particulars concerning
the scope and purport of his narrative. By the courtesy both of Mr.
Sherard and of the proprietor of 'The Weekly Times,' the translator
is here able to republish the remarks made by M. Zola on the occasion
referred to. They will be found to supply an appropriate preface to the
story:--
'"La Débâcle" has given me infinitely more trouble than any of my
previous works. When I began writing it, I had no conception of the
immensity of the task which I had imposed on myself. The labour of
reading up all that has been written on my subject in general, and on
the battle of Sedan in particular, has been enormous, and the work
of condensation of all that I have had to read has been all the more
laborious that on no subject has more divergence of opinion been
expressed... I have read all that has been written about the battle
of Sedan, as well as about the unhappy adventures of the luckless
Seventh Army Corps, in which is placed the fictitious regiment which
plays the leading _rôle_ in my novel. And the digestion has not been
an easy task. Each general, for instance, has a different version to
give of the why and the wherefore of the defeat. Each claims to have
had a plan, which, if it had been followed, would have averted the
disaster. Another difficulty has been that I took no part in that
campaign, not having been a soldier, and that for my information on the
life and experience of those who went through the campaign in general,
and the battle of Sedan in particular, I have had to depend on outside
testimony, often of a conflicting nature. I may say, however, that
in this matter I have been greatly helped by the kindness of persons
who are good enough to be interested in my work, and as soon as it
became known that I was writing a book about the war and about Sedan,
I received from all parts of France manuscript relations written by
people of all classes who had been present at the battle, and who sent
me their recollections. That was most excellent material--indeed, the
best, because not to be found anywhere else. An "Anecdotal Account of
the Battle of Sedan" was sent me by a gentleman who is now professor at
one of the Universities in the South. A long, ill-spelt letter came to
me from a gamekeeper in the North, in which he gave me a full account
of the battle as it impressed him, who was a private soldier in the
Seventh Army Corps at the time. I have masses of such documents, and it
was my duty to go through everything that could throw any light on my
subject.
'The subject was to be War. I had to consider War in its relation
to various classes of society--War _vis-à-vis_ the bourgeois, War
_vis-à-vis_ the peasant, War _vis-à-vis_ the workman. How the war
was brought about--that is to say, the state of mind of men in
France at the time--was a consideration which also supplied me with
a number of characters. I had to show, in a series of types, France
who had lost the use of liberty, France drunk with pleasure, France
fated irrevocably to disaster. I had to have types to show France so
prompt to enthusiasm, so prompt to despair. And then there were to be
shown the immense faults committed, and to show by character how the
commission of such faults was possible, a natural sequence of a certain
psychological state of mind of a certain preponderating class, which
existed in the last days of the Empire. Then each phase of action had
to be typified. The question of the Emperor and his surroundings--I
had to have characters to explain "the sick man" and his state at the
time. I had to show how it was with the peasants of the period, and
hence to equip a character or two for that purpose. The Francs-tireurs
played an important part in the epoch; it therefore became necessary
for me to incarnate these, to create a typical Franc-tireur. The spies
and spying had their influence on the whole; I had to have a spy. By
the way, the spy in my book is one of the few German characters that
I have created--four or five--this spy and an officer or two. Then,
having thus, with a stroke of the rake, dragged together all that I
could find as likely to illustrate my period, both historically and
psychologically considered, I wrote out rapidly--the work of one
feverish morning--a _maquette_, or rough draft of all I wanted to do,
some fifteen or twenty pages.
'It then became necessary to see the places, to study the geography
of my book, for at that period I did not know where my scenes were to
be laid, whether on the banks of the Rhine, or elsewhere. So, with my
rough draft in my pocket, and my head teeming with the shadows of my
marionettes, and of the things that they were to do and to explain, I
set off for Rheims and went carefully over the whole ground, driving
from Rheims to Sedan, and following foot by foot the road by which the
Seventh Corps--already then decided upon as the _milieu_ in which my
novel was to develop--marched to their disaster. During that drive I
picked up an immense quantity of material, halting in farmhouses and
peasants' cottages, and taking copious notes. Then came Sedan, and
after a careful study of the place and the people, I saw that my novel
must deal largely, for the full comprehension of my story, not only
with the locality, but with the people of the town. This gave me the
_bourgeois_ of Sedan, who play an important part in my tale. Little
by little, the geography gave me also the physiology of my book. Each
new place that it became necessary to describe supplied its type, its
characters.
'So, on my return to Paris, I was in an immense workshop or yard
surrounded with huge mountains of hewn stones, mortar and bricks, and
all that remained then to do was to build the best structure that I
could build of these materials. But before that, the architect's plan
was necessary, and that I next carefully evolved. My plan of work is
most rigorous. Each chapter is marked out in advance, but it is only
as I am writing that the various incidents which I have collected fall
into place.... My labour has been one of reconciliation of divergent
statements in the first place, and of condensation in the second. I
had to reduce to one page what I could easily, and without prolixity,
have treated in a dozen pages; so that with each page, nay with each
sentence, I have been confronted with the question what to leave out
and what to say. Then, when each page was written, I began to torture
myself with the doubt whether I had left unsaid things I ought to have
said, whether I had sacrificed good to inferior material.
'"La Débâcle" is divided into three parts. The first part treats of the
action of the luckless Seventh Army Corps, in which is the fictitious
regiment in which my hero or heroes are placed. I say heroes, because
I have really two heroes in this story. One is Jean, of my novel
'La Terre,' who is a corporal in this regiment; the other is a new
character named Maurice, who goes through Sedan as a private soldier.
Between these two men a great friendship exists, and, indeed, it is
from this friendship in the face of death and danger, this comradeship
of arms _malgré tout_, that I draw the chief effects of sentiment with
which my novel is seasoned. For "La Débâcle" is not a love story.
The female characters in it play only secondary _rôles_; there is no
love-making worth speaking about, at the most, only the "intention" of
love, the indication of courtship. Jean and Maurice, my two heroes,
moreover, present types of the France of the day. Maurice, who is
represented as a young man who has recently been admitted to the bar,
is the man of the world--light, cynical, sceptical, the type of the
France of the Empire, embodying her grace and her faults. He is the
type of the France that, sated with pleasure, rushed to disaster. Jean
represents the new social _couche_, a new stratum, and is in some way
emblematic of the France of the future. Now, I will confess that when I
began writing my book, and had this idea of this friendship, I expected
to be able to produce by its means a much greater effect than I think
I have done. This friendship has not yielded all that I had hoped for
from it.
'The first section of eight chapters opens with allusion to the
trifling defeats on the frontier, it shows the Seventh Corps crowded
back on to Rheims; but the principal subject of these chapters is the
terrible march from Rheims to Sedan. It is an epic event, pregnant with
the irony of fate, and, to my thinking, one of the most tragic military
episodes that history records. There is no fighting described in this
part; indeed, the only battle that I describe is Sedan. The tragedy
lies in the exposition of the faults that gradually led up to the
terrible disaster. The reader follows the movements of this ill-fated
corps, knowing what a terrible shadow of defeat, disaster, and death
overhangs it. It was a wonderful corps, and the way it was managed was
wonderful in its crass stupidity.
'My second part is entirely devoted to a description of the battle of
Sedan in all its phases, seen from all sides. I have omitted nothing
which can help to a comprehension of that enormous episode in the
histories of France and of the world. Now we are with Napoleon, now
with the Emperor of Germany, now with the _bourgeois_ of Sedan, now
with the Francs-tireurs in the woods. Each movement of troops that
contributed to the final _dénouement_ is exposed. I have endeavoured to
be complete, but as I have said, I had too little space for the immense
amount of material in my hands. I have also endeavoured to speak the
plain truth without either fear or favour. The reader will be aroused
to compassion with the sufferings, bodily and mental, of the heroic
and martyred army, just as he will be aroused to indignation at the
conduct of its chiefs, which fell little short of downright dementia.
It has been my duty to be severely critical, and I have not shrunk from
the responsibility of wounding, where it was right and just to do so,
susceptibilities which I see no reason for respecting. I dare say there
will be some outcry at my blame, but I am indifferent, having spoken
the truth.
'The last part of my novel is played out in Sedan, after the battle.
From thence the reader follows the rest of the history of the war as
it develops itself in other parts of France, until it culminates in
the outbreak of the Commune and the final collapse of Paris in a sea
of fire and an ocean of blood. The last chapter of the book is an
account of Paris in flames, of Paris with its gutters running with
blood. I hope by this means to produce a gradation of effect--the
catastrophe of Sedan, which ends the second part, followed up by the
still greater catastrophe of the last chapter. To resume: The first
part of my novel is the march from Rheims to Sedan; the second is the
catastrophe of Sedan, from inception to _dénouement_; and the third the
collapse not of Paris alone, but of the whole of old-time France, with
the _dénouement_ of the burning of Paris, the flames of which clear
away not only an old _régime_, but a whole psychological state, and
prepare a fresh field for a new and regenerated people. For observe,
that my book, as far as outward construction goes, divided into three
parts, may also be divided into a novel of historical and a novel of
psychological interest. It tells a tale of many adventures, but it also
aims to give a full list of psychological studies of French society as
it was at the outbreak of the war.
'My novels have always been written with a higher aim than merely
to amuse. I have so high an opinion of the novel as a means of
expression--I consider it parallel with lyrical poetry, as the highest
form of literary expression, just as in the last century the drama was
the highest form of expression--that it is on this account that I have
chosen it as the form in which to present to the world what I wish to
say on the social, scientific, and psychological problems that occupy
the minds of thinking men. But for this I might have said what I wanted
to say to the world in another form. But the novel has to-day risen
from the place which it held in the last century at the table of the
banquet of letters. It was then the idle pastime of the hour, and sat
low down between the fable and the idyll. To-day it contains, or may be
made to contain, everything; and it is because that is my creed that I
am a novelist. I have, to my thinking, certain contributions to make
to the thought of the world on certain subjects, and I have chosen
the novel as the best way of communicating these contributions to the
world. Thus "La Débâcle," in the form of a very precise and accurate
relation of a series of historical facts--in other words, | 3,136.0478 |
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Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 147.
September 23, 1914.
* * * * *
Illustration: THE ALIEN.
_Chorus._ "BOO! 'OO KISSED 'ER 'AND TO THE KAISER LARST TIME 'E COME
OVER? YAR! BLOOMIN' GERMAN!"
* * * * *
CHARIVARIA.
The KAISER, we are told, travels with an asbestos hut. We fancy,
however, that it is not during his lifetime that the most pressing need
for a fire-proof shelter will arise.
* * *
"The Germans," said one of our experts last week, "are retreating to
what looks like a bottle-neck exit." Their fondness for the bottle is,
of course, well known and may yet be their undoing.
* * *
_The Times_, one day, gave a map showing "The Line of Battle in
Champagne." It was, as might have been expected, a very wobbly line.
* * *
A somewhat illiterate correspondent writes to say that he considers that
the French ought to have allowed the Mad Dog to retain Looneyville.
* * *
The German papers publish the statement that a Breslau merchant has
offered 30,000 marks to the German soldier who, weapon in hand, shall be
the first to place his feet on British soil. By a characteristic piece
of sharp practice the reward, it will be noted, is offered to the man
personally and would not be payable to his next of kin.
* * *
With one exception all goods hitherto manufactured in Germany can be
made just as well here. The exception is Lies.
* * *
We have been requested to deny the rumour that Mr. A. C. BENSON'S
forthcoming Christmas book is to be a Eulogy of German Culture and is to
bear the title, _Some Broken Panes From a College Window_ (_in
Louvain_).
* * *
A Corps of Artists for Home Defence is being formed, and the painter
members are said to be longing for a brush with the enemy.
* * *
Cases have been brought to our notice by racing men of betting news
having been delayed on more than one occasion owing to the wires being
required for war purposes. We are confident that if a protest were made
to Lord KITCHENER he would look very closely into the matter.
* * *
Another item reaches us from the dear old village of | 3,136.050812 |
2023-11-16 19:09:20.0331440 | 1,860 | 13 | IV (OF 8)***
E-text prepared by Charlene Taylor, Christine P. Travers, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from
page images generously made available by Internet Archive
(http://www.archive.org) and digitized by Google Books Library Project
(http://books.google.com/intl/en/googlebooks/library.html)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 29340-h.htm or 29340-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29340/29340-h/29340-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29340/29340-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available
through Internet Archive or Google books. See
http://www.archive.org/details/storygreatwar01ruhlgoog
or
http://books.google.com/books?id=PV4PAAAAYAAJ&oe=UTF-8
Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. Hyphenation
and accentuation have been made consistent. All other
inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling
has been retained.
THE STORY OF THE GREAT WAR
History of the European War from Official Sources
Complete Historical Records of Events to Date,
Illustrated with Drawings, Maps, and Photographs
Prefaced by
What the War Means to America
Major General Leonard Wood, U.S.A.
Naval Lessons of the War
Rear Admiral Austin M. Knight, U.S.N.
The World's War
Frederick Palmer
Theatres of the War's Campaigns
Frank H. Simonds
The War Correspondent
Arthur Ruhl
Edited by
Francis J. Reynolds
Former Reference Librarian of Congress
Allen L. Churchill
Associate Editor, The New International Encyclopedia
Francis Trevelyan Miller
Editor in Chieft, Photographic History of the Civil War
P. F. Collier & Son Company
New York
[Illustration: _Kaiser Wilhelm II, German Emperor, inspecting
Austro-Hungarian troops on the East Galician front, New Year's Day,
1916. At the Kaiser's left is General Count von Bothmer_]
THE STORY OF THE GREAT WAR
Champagne. Artois. Grodno
Fall of Nish. Caucasus
Mesopotamia. Development
of Air Strategy. United
States and the War
VOLUME IV
P. F. Collier & Son. New York
Copyright 1916
By P. F. Collier & Son
CONTENTS
PART I.--WAR IN SYRIA AND EGYPT
CHAPTER Page
I. Renewed Turkish Attempts 9
PART II.--WAR IN THE AIR
II. Raids of the Airmen 16
III. Zeppelins Attack London--Battles in the Air 29
IV. Venice Attacked--Other Raids 34
PART III.--THE WESTERN FRONT
V. Summary of First Year's Operations 39
VI. Fighting in Artois and the Vosges 46
VII. Political Crisis in France--Aeroplane Warfare--Fierce
Combats in the Vosges--Preparations for Allied
Offense 52
VIII. The Great Champagne Offensive 61
IX. The British Front in Artois 81
X. The Battle of Loos 90
XI. The Cavell Case--Accident to King George 98
XII. Operations in Champagne And Artois--Preparations for
Winter Campaign 104
XIII. Events in the Winter Campaign 117
XIV. The Battle of Verdun--The German Attack 131
PART IV.--THE WAR AT SEA
XV. Naval Situation at the Beginning of the Second
Year--Submarine Exploits 143
XVI. The Sinking of the Arabic--British Submarine Successes 150
XVII. Cruise of the Moewe--Loss of British Battleships 156
XVIII. Continuation of War on Merchant Shipping--Italian
and Russian Naval Movements--Sinking of La
Provence 165
PART V.--THE WAR ON THE EASTERN FRONT
XIX. Summary of First Year's Operations 174
XX. The Fall of the Niemen and Nareff Fortresses 178
XXI. The Conquest of Grodno and Vilna 185
XXII. The Capture of Brest-Litovsk 193
XXIII. The Struggle in East Galicia and Volhynia and the
Capture of Pinsk 200
XXIV. In the Pripet Marshes 209
XXV. Fighting on the Dvina and in the Dvina-Vilna Sector 212
XXVI. Winter Battles on the Styr and Strypa Rivers 223
XXVII. On the Tracks of the Russian Retreat 229
XXVIII. Sidelights on the Russian Retreat and German
Advance 240
XXIX. Winter on the Eastern Front 250
PART VI.--THE BALKANS
XXX. Battle Clouds Gather Again 255
XXXI. The Invasion Begins 263
XXXII. Bulgaria Enters the War 269
XXXIII. The Teutonic Invasion Rolls on 273
XXXIV. The Fall of Nish--Defense of Babuna Pass 282
XXXV. Bulgarian Advance--Serbian Resistance 290
XXXVI. End of German Operations--Flight of Serb People--Greece 300
XXXVII. Allies Withdraw into Greece--Attitude of Greek
Government 308
XXXVIII. Bulgarian Attacks--Allies Concentrate at Saloniki 316
XXXIX. Italian Movements in Albania--Conquest of Montenegro 327
XL. Conditions in Serbia, Greece, and Rumania 339
PART VII.--THE DARDANELLES AND RUSSO-TURKISH CAMPAIGN
XLI. Conditions in Gallipoli--Attack at Suvla Bay 344
PART VIII.--AGGRESSIVE TURKISH CAMPAIGN AT DARDANELLES
XLII. Sari Bair--Partial Withdrawal of Allies 353
XLIII. Aggressive Turkish Movements--Opinion in England--Change
in Command 357
XLIV. Abandonment of Dardanelles--Armenian Atrocities 369
XLV. Campaign in Caucasus--Fall of Erzerum 380
PART IX.--ITALY IN THE WAR
XLVI. Review OF Preceding Operations--Italian Movements 393
XLVII. Italy's Relations to the Other Warring Nations 399
XLVIII. Problems of Strategy 404
XLIX. Move Against Germany 410
L. Renewed Attacks--Italy's Situation At the Beginning
of March, 1916 413
PART X.--CAMPAIGN IN MESOPOTAMIA
LI. Operations Against Bagdad and Around the Tigris 419
LII. Advance Toward Bagdad--Battle of Kut-el-Amara 426
LIII. Battle of Ctesiphon 437
LIV. Stand at Kut-el-Amara--Attempts at Relief 444
PART XI.--THE WAR IN THE AIR
LV. Development of the Strategy and Tactics of Air
Fighting 454
LVI. Zeppelin Raids--Attacks on German Arms Factories--German
Over-Sea Raids 459
LVII. Attacks on London--Bombardment of Italian Ports--Aeroplane
as Commerce Destroyer 466
LVIII. Air Fighting on all Fronts--Losses 473
PART XII.--THE UNITED STATES AND THE BELLIGERENTS
LIX. Sinking of the Arabic--Another Crisis--Germany's
Defense and Concessions 480
LX. Issue with Austria-Hungary Over the Ancona--Surrender
to American Demands 490
LXI. The Lusitania Deadlock--Agreement Blocked by Armed
Merchantmen Issue--Crisis in Congress 496
| 3,136.053184 |
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Produced by Mary Meehan and The Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ACROSS THE SEAS
BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK
Author of "The Ranch Girls Series," etc.
ILLUSTRATED
PHILADELPHIA
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1914, by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
[Illustration: "LOOK HERE, ESTHER," HE BEGAN]
CONTENTS
I. TWO YEARS LATER
II. THE WHEEL REVOLVES
III. FAREWELLS
IV. UNTER DEN LINDEN
V. CHANGES
VI. A COSMOPOLITAN COMPANY
VII. DAS RHEINGOLD
VIII. OTHER SCENES
IX. THE MEETING
X. AN ADVENTURE
XI. AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
XII. THE UNCERTAIN FUTURE
XIII. RICHARD ASHTON
XIV. BETTY'S STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
XV. THE FINDING OF BRUNHILDE
XVI. A HEART-TO-HEART TALK
XVII. THE DAY BEFORE ESTHER'S DEBUT
XVIII. THAT NIGHT
XIX. TEA AT THE CASTLE
XX. ESTHER AND DICK
XXI. SUNRISE CABIN
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"LOOK HERE, ESTHER," HE BEGAN
THERE WAS A SLIGHT SOUND FROM HIS LISTENER
"TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE PLACES NEAR HERE"
"FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS TO ME!"
The Camp Fire Girls Across the Seas
CHAPTER I
Two Years Later
A young man strode along through one of the principal streets of the
town of Woodford, New Hampshire, with his blue eyes clouded and an
expression of mingled displeasure and purpose about the firm lines of
his mouth.
It was an April afternoon and the warm sunshine uncurling the tiny buds
on the old elm trees lit to a brighter hue the yellow Forsythia bushes
already in bloom in the gardens along the way.
Standing in front of an inconspicuous brown cottage was a large touring
car, empty of occupants. Within a few yards of this car the young man
paused, frowning, and then gazed anxiously up toward the | 3,136.558865 |
2023-11-16 19:09:20.6285580 | 1,546 | 12 |
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
The Sandman's Hour
Stories _for_ Bedtime
By Abbie Phillips Walker
_Illustrated by_ Rhoda. C. Chase
Harper & Brothers, Publishers
[Illustration: Title page]
The Sandman's Hour
Copyright, 1917, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
*CONTENTS*
Where the Sparks Go
The Good Sea Monster
Mother Turkey and Her Chicks
The Fairies and the Dandelion
Mr. 'Possum
The Rooster That Crowed Too Soon
Tearful
Hilda's Mermaid
The Mirror's Dream
The Contest
The Pink and Blue Eggs
Why the Morning-Glory Sleeps
Dorothy and the Portrait
Mistress Pussy's Mistake
Kid
The Shoemaker Rat
The Poppies
Little China Doll
The Disorderly Girl
The Wise Old Gander
Dinah Cat and the Witch
The Star and the Lily
Lazy Gray
The Old Gray Hen
The Worsted Doll
*THE SANDMAN'S HOUR*
[Illustration: Headpiece to Where the Sparks Go]
*WHERE THE SPARKS GO*
One night when the wind was blowing and it was clear and cold out of
doors, a cat and a dog, who were very good friends, sat dozing before a
fire-place. The wood was snapping and crackling, making the sparks fly.
Some flew up the chimney, others settled into coals in the bed of the
fireplace, while others flew out on the hearth and slowly closed their
eyes and went to sleep.
One spark ventured farther out upon the hearth and fell very near Pussy.
This made her jump, which awakened the dog.
"That almost scorched your fur coat, Miss Pussy," said the dog.
"No, indeed," answered the cat. "I am far too quick to be caught by
those silly sparks."
"Why do you call them silly?" asked the dog. "I think them very good to
look at, and they help to keep us warm."
"Yes, that is all true," said the cat, "but those that fly up the
chimney on a night like this certainly are silly, when they could be
warm and comfortable inside; for my part, I cannot see why they fly up
the chimney."
The spark that flew so near Pussy was still winking, and she blazed up a
little when she heard the remark the cat made.
"If you knew our reason you would not call us silly," she said. "You
cannot see what we do, but if you were to look up the chimney and see
what happens if we are fortunate enough to get out at the top, you would
not call us silly."
The dog and cat were very curious to know what happened, but the spark
told them to look and see for themselves. Pussy was very cautious and
told the dog to look first, so he stepped boldly up to the fireplace and
thrust his head in. He quickly withdrew it, for his hair was singed,
which made him cry and run to the other side of the room.
Miss Pussy smoothed her soft coat and was very glad she had been so
wise; she walked over to the dog and urged him to come nearer the fire,
but he realized why a burnt child dreads the fire, and remained at a
safe distance.
Pussy walked back to the spark and continued to question it. "We cannot
go into the fire," she said. "Now, pretty, bright spark, do tell us what
becomes of you when you fly up the chimney. I am sure you only become
soot and that cannot make you long to get to the top."
"Oh, you are very wrong," said the spark. "We are far from being black
when we fly up the chimney, for once we reach the top, we live forever
sparkling in the sky. You can see, if you look up the chimney, all of
our brothers and sisters, who have been lucky and reached the top,
winking at us almost every night. Sometimes the wind blows them away, I
suppose, for there are nights when we cannot see the sparks shine."
"Who told you all that?" said the cat. "Did any of the sparks ever come
back and tell you they could live forever?"
"Oh no!" said the spark; "but we can see them, can we not? And, of
course, we all want to shine forever."
"I said you were silly," said the cat, "and now I know it; those are not
sparks you see; they are stars in the sky."
"You can call them anything you like," replied the spark, "but we make
the bright light you see."
"Well, if you take my advice," said the cat, "you will stay right in the
fireplace, for once you reach the top of the chimney out of sight you
go. The stars you see twinkling are far above the chimney, and you
never could reach them." But the spark would not be convinced. Just
then some one opened a door and the draught blew the spark back into the
fireplace. In a few minutes it was flying with the others toward the top
of the chimney.
Pussy watched the fire a minute and then looked at the dog.
"The spark may be right, after all," said the dog. "Let us go out and
see if we can see it."
Pussy stretched herself and blinked. "Perhaps it is true," she replied;
"anyway, I will go with you and look."
[Illustration: Headpiece to The Good Sea Monster]
*THE GOOD SEA MONSTER*
On an island of rocks out in the ocean lived a sea monster. His head
was large, and when he opened his mouth it looked like a cave.
It had been said that he was so huge that he could swallow a ship, and
that on stormy nights he sat on the rocks and the flashing of his eyes
could be seen for miles around.
The sailors spoke of him with fear and trembling, but, as you can see,
the sea monster had really been a friend to them, showing them the rock
in the storm by flashing his eyes; but because he looked so hideous all
who beheld him thought he must be a cruel monster.
One night there was a terrible storm, and the monster went out into the
ocean to see if any ship was wrecked in the night, and, if possible,
help any one that was floating about.
He found one little boy floating about on a plank. His name was Ko-Ko,
and when he saw the monster he was afraid, but when Ko-Ko saw that the
monster did not attempt to harm him he climbed on the monster's back and
he took him to the rocky island. Then the monster went back into the sea
and Ko-Ko wondered if he were to be left alone. But after a while the
monster returned and opened his mouth very wide.
Ko-Ko ran when he saw the huge mouth, for he thought the monster
intended to swallow him, but | 3,136.648598 |
2023-11-16 19:09:20.6318700 | 3,925 | 7 |
Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger
THE LAST OF THE BARONS
By Edward Bulwer Lytton
DEDICATORY EPISTLE.
I dedicate to you, my indulgent Critic and long-tried Friend, the work
which owes its origin to your suggestion. Long since, you urged me
to attempt a fiction which might borrow its characters from our own
Records, and serve to illustrate some of those truths which History is
too often compelled to leave to the Tale-teller, the Dramatist, and the
Poet. Unquestionably, Fiction, when aspiring to something higher than
mere romance, does not pervert, but elucidate Facts. He who employs it
worthily must, like a biographer, study the time and the characters
he selects, with a minute and earnest diligence which the general
historian, whose range extends over centuries, can scarcely be
expected to bestow upon the things and the men of a single epoch. His
descriptions should fill up with colour and detail the cold outlines
of the rapid chronicler; and in spite of all that has been argued by
pseudo-critics, the very fancy which urged and animated his theme
should necessarily tend to increase the reader's practical and familiar
acquaintance with the habits, the motives, and the modes of thought
which constitute the true idiosyncrasy of an age. More than all, to
Fiction is permitted that liberal use of Analogical Hypothesis which is
denied to History, and which, if sobered by research, and enlightened
by that knowledge of mankind (without which Fiction can neither harm
nor profit, for it becomes unreadable), tends to clear up much that
were otherwise obscure, and to solve the disputes and difficulties of
contradictory evidence by the philosophy of the human heart.
My own impression of the greatness of the labour to which you invited me
made me the more diffident of success, inasmuch as the field of English
historical fiction had been so amply cultivated, not only by the most
brilliant of our many glorious Novelists, but by later writers of high
and merited reputation. But however the annals of our History have been
exhausted by the industry of romance, the subject you finally pressed
on my choice is unquestionably one which, whether in the delineation of
character, the expression of passion, or the suggestion of historical
truths, can hardly fail to direct the Novelist to paths wholly untrodden
by his predecessors in the Land of Fiction.
Encouraged by you, I commenced my task; encouraged by you, I venture,
on concluding it, to believe that, despite the partial adoption of that
established compromise between the modern and the elder diction,
which Sir Walter Scott so artistically improved from the more rugged
phraseology employed by Strutt, and which later writers have perhaps
somewhat overhackneyed, I may yet have avoided all material trespass
upon ground which others have already redeemed from the waste. Whatever
the produce of the soil I have selected, I claim, at least, to have
cleared it with my own labour, and ploughed it with my own heifer.
The reign of Edward IV. is in itself suggestive of new considerations
and unexhausted interest to those who accurately regard it. Then
commenced the policy consummated by Henry VII.; then were broken up the
great elements of the old feudal order; a new Nobility was called
into power, to aid the growing Middle Class in its struggles with the
ancient; and in the fate of the hero of the age, Richard Nevile, Earl of
Warwick, popularly called the King-maker, "the greatest as well as the
last of those mighty Barons who formerly overawed the Crown," [Hume
adds, "and rendered the people incapable of civil government,"--a
sentence which, perhaps, judges too hastily the whole question at issue
in our earlier history, between the jealousy of the barons and the
authority of the king.] was involved the very principle of our existing
civilization. It adds to the wide scope of Fiction, which ever loves
to explore the twilight, that, as Hume has truly observed, "No part
of English history since the Conquest is so obscure, so uncertain, so
little authentic or consistent, as that of the Wars between the two
Roses." It adds also to the importance of that conjectural research
in which Fiction may be made so interesting and so useful, that "this
profound darkness falls upon us just on the eve of the restoration of
letters;" [Hume] while amidst the gloom, we perceive the movement of
those great and heroic passions in which Fiction finds delineations
everlastingly new, and are brought in contact with characters
sufficiently familiar for interest, sufficiently remote for adaptation
to romance, and above all, so frequently obscured by contradictory
evidence, that we lend ourselves willingly to any one who seeks to help
our judgment of the individual by tests taken from the general knowledge
of mankind.
Round the great image of the "Last of the Barons" group Edward the
Fourth, at once frank and false; the brilliant but ominous boyhood of
Richard the Third; the accomplished Hastings, "a good knight and gentle,
but somewhat dissolute of living;" [Chronicle of Edward V., in Stowe]
the vehement and fiery Margaret of Anjou; the meek image of her "holy
Henry," and the pale shadow of their son. There may we see, also, the
gorgeous Prelate, refining in policy and wile, as the enthusiasm and
energy which had formerly upheld the Ancient Church pass into the
stern and persecuted votaries of the New; we behold, in that social
transition, the sober Trader--outgrowing the prejudices of the rude
retainer or rustic franklin, from whom he is sprung--recognizing
sagaciously, and supporting sturdily, the sectarian interests of his
order, and preparing the way for the mighty Middle Class, in which our
Modern Civilization, with its faults and its merits, has established its
stronghold; while, in contrast to the measured and thoughtful notions
of liberty which prudent Commerce entertains, we are reminded of the
political fanaticism of the secret Lollard,--of the jacquerie of the
turbulent mob-leader; and perceive, amidst the various tyrannies of the
time, and often partially allied with the warlike seignorie, [For it
is noticeable that in nearly all the popular risings--that of Cade, of
Robin of Redesdale, and afterwards of that which Perkin Warbeck made
subservient to his extraordinary enterprise--the proclamations of the
rebels always announced, among their popular grievances, the depression
of the ancient nobles and the elevation of new men.]--ever jealous
against all kingly despotism,--the restless and ignorant movement of a
democratic principle, ultimately suppressed, though not destroyed, under
the Tudors, by the strong union of a Middle Class, anxious for security
and order, with an Executive Authority determined upon absolute sway.
Nor should we obtain a complete and comprehensive view of that most
interesting Period of Transition, unless we saw something of the
influence which the sombre and sinister wisdom of Italian policy
began to exercise over the councils of the great,--a policy of refined
stratagem, of complicated intrigue, of systematic falsehood, of
ruthless, but secret violence; a policy which actuated the fell
statecraft of Louis XI.; which darkened, whenever he paused to think and
to scheme, the gaudy and jovial character of Edward IV.; which appeared
in its fullest combination of profound guile and resolute will in
Richard III.; and, softened down into more plausible and specious
purpose by the unimpassioned sagacity of Henry VII., finally attained
the object which justified all its villanies to the princes of its
native land,--namely, the tranquillity of a settled State, and the
establishment of a civilized but imperious despotism.
Again, in that twilight time, upon which was dawning the great invention
that gave to Letters and to Science the precision and durability of the
printed page, it is interesting to conjecture what would have been
the fate of any scientific achievement for which the world was less
prepared. The reception of printing into England chanced just at the
happy period when Scholarship and Literature were favoured by the great.
The princes of York, with the exception of Edward IV. himself, who had,
however, the grace to lament his own want of learning, and the taste
to appreciate it in others, were highly educated. The Lords Rivers and
Hastings [The erudite Lord Worcester had been one of Caxton's warmest
patrons, but that nobleman was no more at the time in which printing is
said to have been actually introduced into England.] were accomplished
in all the "witte and lere" of their age. Princes and peers vied with
each other in their patronage of Caxton, and Richard III., during his
brief reign, spared no pains to circulate to the utmost the invention
destined to transmit his own memory to the hatred and the horror of all
succeeding time. But when we look around us, we see, in contrast to the
gracious and fostering reception of the mere mechanism by which
science is made manifest, the utmost intolerance to science itself. The
mathematics in especial are deemed the very cabala of the black art.
Accusations of witchcraft were never more abundant; and yet, strange
to say, those who openly professed to practise the unhallowed science,
[Nigromancy, or Sorcery, even took its place amongst the regular
callings. Thus, "Thomas Vandyke, late of Cambridge," is styled (Rolls
Parl. 6, p. 273) Nigromancer as his profession.--Sharon Turner, "History
of England," vol iv. p. 6. Burke, "History of Richard III."] and
contrived to make their deceptions profitable to some unworthy political
purpose, appear to have enjoyed safety, and sometimes even honour, while
those who, occupied with some practical, useful, and noble pursuits
uncomprehended by prince or people, denied their sorcery were despatched
without mercy. The mathematician and astronomer Bolingbroke (the
greatest clerk of his age) is hanged and quartered as a wizard, while
not only impunity but reverence seems to have awaited a certain Friar
Bungey, for having raised mists and vapours, which greatly befriended
Edward IV. at the battle of Barnet.
Our knowledge of the intellectual spirit of the age, therefore, only
becomes perfect when we contrast the success of the Impostor with the
fate of the true Genius. And as the prejudices of the populace ran high
against all mechanical contrivances for altering the settled conditions
of labour, [Even in the article of bonnets and hats, it appears that
certain wicked falling mills were deemed worthy of a special anathema in
the reign of Edward IV. These engines are accused of having sought, "by
subtle imagination," the destruction of the original makers of hats and
bonnets by man's strength,--that is, with hands and feet; and an act of
parliament was passed (22d of Edward IV.) to put down the fabrication
of the said hats and bonnets by mechanical contrivance.] so probably,
in the very instinct and destiny of Genius which ever drive it to a war
with popular prejudice, it would be towards such contrivances that a
man of great ingenuity and intellect, if studying the physical sciences,
would direct his ambition.
Whether the author, in the invention he has assigned to his philosopher
(Adam Warner), has too boldly assumed the possibility of a conception so
much in advance of the time, they who have examined such of the works
of Roger Bacon as are yet given to the world can best decide; but
the assumption in itself belongs strictly to the most acknowledged
prerogatives of Fiction; and the true and important question will
obviously be, not whether Adam Warner could have constructed his model,
but whether, having so constructed it, the fate that befell him was
probable and natural.
Such characters as I have here alluded to seemed, then, to me, in
meditating the treatment of the high and brilliant subject which your
eloquence animated me to attempt, the proper Representatives of the
multiform Truths which the time of Warwick the King-maker affords to our
interests and suggests for our instruction; and I can only wish that the
powers of the author were worthier of the theme.
It is necessary that I now state briefly the foundation of the
Historical portions of this narrative. The charming and popular "History
of Hume," which, however, in its treatment of the reign of Edward IV. is
more than ordinarily incorrect, has probably left upon the minds of many
of my readers, who may not have directed their attention to more
recent and accurate researches into that obscure period, an erroneous
impression of the causes which led to the breach between Edward IV. and
his great kinsman and subject, the Earl of Warwick. The general notion
is probably still strong that it was the marriage of the young king to
Elizabeth Gray, during Warwick's negotiations in France for the alliance
of Bona of Savoy (sister-in-law to Louis XI.), which exasperated the
fiery earl, and induced his union with the House of Lancaster. All our
more recent historians have justly rejected this groundless fable,
which even Hume (his extreme penetration supplying the defects of his
superficial research) admits with reserve. ["There may even some doubt
arise with regard to the proposal of marriage made to Bona of Savoy,"
etc.--HUME, note to p. 222, vol. iii. edit. 1825.] A short summary of
the reasons for this rejection is given by Dr. Lingard, and annexed
below. ["Many writers tell us that the enmity of Warwick arose from his
disappointment caused by Edward's clandestine marriage with Elizabeth.
If we may believe them, the earl was at the very time in France
negotiating on the part of the king a marriage with Bona of Savoy,
sister to the Queen of France; and having succeeded in his mission,
brought back with him the Count of Dampmartin as ambassador from Louis.
To me the whole story appears a fiction. 1. It is not to be found in the
more ancient historians. 2. Warwick was not at the time in France. On
the 20th of April, ten days before the marriage, he was employed in
negotiating a truce with the French envoys in London (Rym. xi. 521), and
on the 26th of May, about three weeks after it, was appointed to treat
of another truce with the King of Scots (Rym. xi. 424). 3. Nor could he
bring Dampmartin with him to England; for that nobleman was committed a
prisoner to the Bastile in September, 1463, and remained there till
May, 1465 (Monstrel. iii. 97, 109). Three contemporary and well-informed
writers, the two continuators of the History of Croyland and Wyrcester,
attribute his discontent to the marriages and honours granted to the
Wydeviles, and the marriage of the princess Margaret with the Duke of
Burgundy."--LINGARD, vol. iii. c. 24, pp. 5, 19, 4to ed.] And, indeed,
it is a matter of wonder that so many of our chroniclers could have
gravely admitted a legend contradicted by all the subsequent conduct
of Warwick himself; for we find the earl specially doing honour to the
publication of Edward's marriage, standing godfather to his first-born
(the Princess Elizabeth), employed as ambassador or acting as minister,
and fighting for Edward, and against the Lancastrians, during the five
years that elapsed between the coronation of Elizabeth and Warwick's
rebellion.
The real causes of this memorable quarrel, in which Warwick acquired his
title of King-maker, appear to have been these.
It is probable enough, as Sharon Turner suggests, [Sharon Turner:
History of England, vol. iii. p. 269.] that Warwick was disappointed
that, since Edward chose a subject for his wife, he neglected the more
suitable marriage he might have formed with the earl's eldest daughter;
and it is impossible but that the earl should have been greatly chafed,
in common with all his order, by the promotion of the queen's relations,
[W. Wyr. 506, 7. Croyl. 542.] new men and apostate Lancastrians. But it
is clear that these causes for discontent never weakened his zeal for
Edward till the year 1467, when we chance upon the true origin of the
romance concerning Bona of Savoy, and the first open dissension between
Edward and the earl.
In that year Warwick went to France, to conclude an alliance with Louis
XI., and to secure the hand of one of the French princes [Which of the
princes this was does not appear, and can scarcely be conjectured. The
"Pictorial History of England" (Book v. 102) in a tone of easy decision
says "it was one of the sons of Louis XI." But Louis had no living
sons at all at the time. The Dauphin was not born till three years
afterwards. The most probable person was the Duke of Guienne, Louis's
brother.] for Margaret, sister to Edward IV.; during this period, Edward
received the bastard brother of Charles, Count of Charolois, afterwards
Duke of Burgundy, and arranged a marriage between Margaret and the
count.
Warwick's embassy was thus dishonoured, and the dishonour was aggravated
by personal enmity to the bridegroom Edward had preferred. | 3,136.65191 |
2023-11-16 19:09:20.6324670 | 4,348 | 18 |
Produced by Winston Smith. Images provided by The Internet Archive.
OSCAR WILDE
This Edition consists of 500 copies.
Fifty copies have been printed on
hand-made paper.
[Illustration: 'HOW UTTER.']
Oscar Wilde
A STUDY
FROM THE FRENCH OF
ANDRÉ GIDE
WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
BY
STUART MASON
Oxford
THE HOLYWELL PRESS
MCMV
* * * * *
TO
DONALD BRUCE WALLACE,
OF NEW YORK,
IN MEMORY OF A VISIT LAST SUMMER TO
BAGNEUX CEMETERY,
A PILGRIMAGE OF LOVE WHEN WE
WATERED WITH OUR TEARS THE ROSES AND LILIES
WITH WHICH WE COVERED
THE POET'S GRAVE.
Oxford,
September, 1905.
[The little poem on the opposite page first saw the light in the pages
of the _Dublin University Magazine_ for September, 1876. It has not
been reprinted since. The Greek quotation is taken from the _Agamemnon_
of Æschylos, l. 120. ]
Αἴλινον, αἴινον εἰπὲ,
Τὸ δ᾽ ευ̉ νικάτω
O well for him who lives at ease
With garnered gold in wide domain,
Nor heeds the plashing of the rain,
The crashing down of forest trees.
O well for him who ne'er hath known
The travail of the hungry years,
A father grey with grief and tears,
A mother weeping all alone.
But well for him whose feet hath trod
The weary road of toil and strife,
Yet from the sorrows of his life
Builds ladders to be nearer God.
Oscar F. O'F. Wills Wilde.
_S. M. Magdalen College,_
_Oxford._
NOTE.
M. Gide's Study of Mr. Oscar Wilde (perhaps the best account yet
written of the poet's latter days) appeared first in _L'Ermitage_, a
monthly literary review, in June, 1902. It was afterwards reprinted
with some few slight alterations in a volume of critical essays,
entitled _Prétextes_, by M. Gide. It is now published in English for
the first time, by special arrangement with the author.
S. M.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Poem by Oscar Wilde.................................... xi
Introductory........................................... 1
Inscription on Oscar Wilde's Tombstone................. 11
Letters from M. André Gide............................. 12
Oscar Wilde: from the French of André Gide............. 15
Sonnet 'To Oscar Wilde,' by Augustus M. Moore.......... 89
List of Published Writings of Oscar Wilde.............. 93
Bibliographical Notes on The English Editions.......... 107
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Cartoon: 'How Utter'.......................... Frontispiece
(From a Cartoon published by Messrs. Shrimpton at
Oxford about 1880. By permission of Mr. Hubert
Giles, 23 Broad St., Oxford).
Oscar Wilde at Oxford, 1878............................ 16
(By permission of Mr. Hubert Giles).
Oscar Wilde in 1893.................................... 48
(From a Photograph by Messrs. Gillman & Co., Oxford).
The Grave at Bagneux................................... 80
(By permission of the Proprietors of _The Sphere_
and _The Tatler_).
Reduced Facsimile of the Cover of _'The Woman's World'_ 96
* * * * *
Oscar Wilde
Introductory.
Oscar Fingall O'Flahertie Wills Wilde was born at 1 Merrion Square,
North, Dublin, on October 16th, 1854. He was the second son of Sir
William Robert Wilde, Knight, a celebrated surgeon who was President
of the Irish Academy and Chairman of the Census Committee. Sir William
Wilde was born in 1799, and died at the age of seventy-seven years.
Oscar Wilde's mother was Jane Francesca, daughter of Archdeacon Elgee.
She was born in 1826, and married in 1851. She became famous in
literary circles under the pen-names of 'Speranza' and 'John Fenshawe
Ellis,' among her published writings being _Driftwood from Scandinavia_
(1884), _Legends of Ireland_ (1886), and _Social Studies_ (1893). Lady
Wilde died at her residence in Chelsea on February 3rd, 1896[1].
Oscar Wilde received his early education at Portora Royal School,
Enniskillen, which he entered in 1864 at the age of nine years. Here he
remained for seven years, and, winning a Royal scholarship, he entered
Trinity College, Dublin, on October 19th, 1871, being then seventeen
years of age. In the following year he obtained First Class Honours in
Classics in Hilary, Trinity and Michaelmas Terms; he also won the Gold
Medal for Greek[2] and other distinctions. The Trinity College Magazine
_Kottabos_, for the years 1876-9, contains some of his earliest
published poems. In 1874 he obtained a classical scholarship[3], and
went up to Oxford, where, as a demy, he matriculated at Magdalen
College on October 17th, the day after his twentieth birthday. His
career at Oxford was one unbroken success. In Trinity Term (June),
1876, he obtained a First Class in the Honour School of Classical
Moderations (_in literis Græcis et Latinis_), which he followed up two
years later by a similar distinction in 'Greats' or 'Honour Finals'
(_in literis humanioribus_). In this same Trinity Term[4], 1878, he
further distinguished himself by gaining the Sir Roger Newdigate Prize
for English Verse with his poem, 'Ravenna[5],' which he recited at
the Encænia or Annual Commemoration of Benefactors in the Sheldonian
Theatre on June 26th. He proceeded to the degree of B. A. in the
following term[6]. He is described in Foster's _Alumni Oxonienses_ as a
'Professor of Æsthetics and Art critic.'
He afterwards lectured on Art in America[7], 1882, and in the provinces
on his return to England. About this time he wrote his poems, _The
Sphinx_ and _The Harlot's House_ (1883), and his tragedy in blank
verse, _The Duchess of Padua_. The latter was written specially for
Miss Mary Anderson, but she did not produce it. This was, however,
played in America by the late Lawrence Barrett in 1883, as was also
another play in blank verse, entitled _Vera, or the Nihilists_, during
the previous year. He had already published in America and England a
volume of _Poems_, which went through several editions in a few months.
In 1884 Oscar Wilde married[8] Miss Constance Mary Lloyd, a daughter
of the well-known Q. C., by whom he had two sons, born in June, 1885,
and November, 1886, respectively. Mrs. Wilde died in 1898, and his only
brother, William, in March of the following year.
During the next five or six years after his marriage, articles
from his pen appeared in several of the leading reviews, notably
'The Portrait of Mr. W. H.' in _Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_ for
July, 1889, and those brilliant essays afterwards incorporated in
_Intentions_, in _The Nineteenth Century_ and _The Fortnightly Review_.
In 1888 he was the editor of a monthly journal called _The Woman's
World_. In July, 1890,_ The Picture of Dorian Gray_ appeared in
_Lippincott's Monthly Magazine_. It was the only novel he ever wrote,
and was published in book form with seven additional chapters in the
following year, and is one of the most remarkable books in the English
language.
With the production and immediate success of _Lady Windermere's Fan_
early in 1892, he was at once recognised as a dramatist of the first
rank. This was followed a year later by _A Woman of No Importance_,
and after brief intervals by _An Ideal Husband_ and _The Importance of
Being Earnest_[9]. The two latter were being played in London at the
time of the author's arrest and trial.
Into the melancholy story of his trial it is not proposed to enter here
beyond mentioning the fact that he was condemned by the newspapers,
and, consequently, by the vast majority of the British public, several
weeks before a jury could be found to return a verdict of 'guilty.' On
Saturday, May 25th, 1895, he was sentenced to two years' imprisonment
with hard labour, most of which period was passed at Wandsworth and
Reading.
On his release from Reading on Wednesday, May 19th, 1897, he at once
crossed to France with friends, and a few days later penned that
pathetic letter, pregnant with pity, in which he pleaded for the
kindlier treatment of little children lying in our English gaols. This
letter, with his own name attached, filled over two columns in _The
Daily Chronicle_ of May 28th. It created considerable sensation--a
well-known Catholic weekly comparing it 'in its crushing power to the
letter with which Stevenson shamed the shameless traducer of Father
Damien.' A second letter on the subject of the cruelties of the English
Prison system appeared in the same paper on March 24th, 1898. It was
headed: 'Don't Read This if You Want to be Happy To-day,' and was
signed 'The Author of _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_.' _The Ballad of
Reading Gaol_ was published early in this same year under the _nom
de plume_ 'C.3.3.,' Oscar Wilde's prison number. Its authorship was
acknowledged shortly afterwards in an autograph edition. Since that
time countless editions of this famous work have been issued in England
and America, and translations have appeared in French, German and
Spanish. Of this poem a reviewer in a London journal said,--'The whole
is awful as the pages of Sophocles. That he has rendered with his
fine art so much of the essence of his life and the life of others in
that _inferno_ to the sensitive, is a memorable thing for the social
scientist, but a much more memorable thing for literature. This is a
simple, a poignant, a great ballad, one of the greatest in the English
language.'
Of the sorrows and sufferings of the last few years of his life, his
friend Mr. Robert Harborough Sherard has written in _The Story of an
Unhappy Friendship_, and M. Gide refers to them in the following pages.
After several weeks of intense suffering 'Death the silent pilot' came
at last, and the most brilliant writer of the nineteenth century passed
away on the afternoon of November 30th, 1900, in poverty and almost
alone. The little hotel in Paris--Hotel d'Alsace, 13 rue des Beaux
Arts,--where he died, has become a place of pilgrimage from all parts
of the world for those who admire his genius or pity his sorrows. He
was buried, three days later, in the cemetery at Bagneux, about four
miles out of Paris.
STUART MASON.
[1] In 1890 Lady Wilde received a pension of £50 from the Civil List.
[2] The subject for this year, 1874, was 'The Fragments of the Greek
Comic Poets, as edited by Meineke.' The medal was presented annually,
from a fund left for the purpose by Bishop Berkeley.
[3] The demyship was of the annual value of £95, and was tenable for
five years. Oscar Wilde's success was announced in the _University
Gazette_ (Oxford), July 11, 1874.
[4] On Wednesday, May 1st, Oscar Wilde, dressed as Prince Rupert, was
present at a fancy dress ball given by Mrs. George Herbert Morrell at
Headington Hill Hall.
[5] 'The Newdigate was listened to with rapt attention and frequently
applauded.'--_Oxford and Cambridge Undergraduates' Journal_, June 27,
1878.
[6] The degree of B. A. was conferred upon him on Thursday, Novemher
28, 1878.
[7] Amongst the places he visited were New York, Louisville (Kentucky),
Omaha City and California. In the autumn of this same year, 1882, after
leaving the States, Mr. Wilde went to Canada and thence to Nova Scotia,
arriving at Halifax about October 8th.
[8] The announcement in _The Times_ of May 31, 1884, was as
follows:--'May 29, at S. James's Church, Paddington, by the Rev. Walter
Abbott, Vicar, Oscar, younger son of the late Sir William Wilde, M. D.,
of Dublin, to Constance Mary, only daughter of the late Horace Lloyd,
Esq., Q. C.'
[9] Of _The Importance of Being Earnest_ the author is reported to have
said, 'The first act is ingenious, the second beautiful, the third
abominably clever.' It was revived by Mr. George Alexander at the St.
James's Theatre on January 7, 1902; and _Lady Windermere's Fan_ on
November 19, 1904.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A cross.]
Oscar Wilde
OCT. 16TH, 1854--NOV. 30TH, 1900.
VERBIS MEIS ADDERE NIHIL AUDEBANT
ET SUPER ILLOS STILLABAT ELOQUIUM
MEUM.
JOB XXIX, 22
R. I. P.
_Inscription on Oscar Wilde's Tombstone._
* * * * *
_Letters from M. André Gide._
I.
CHÂTEAU DE CUVERVILLE,
PAR CRIQUETOT L'ESNEVAL,
SNE. INFERIEURE.
Monsieur,
Quelque plaisir que j'aurai de voir mon étude sur Wilde traduite en
anglais, je ne puis vous répondre avant d'avoir correspondu avec mon
éditeur. L'article en question, après avoir paru dans 'l'Ermitage,'
a été réunie à d'autres études dans un volume, _Prétextes_, que le
_Mercure de France_ édita l'an dernier. Un traité me lie à cette
maison et je ne suis pas libre de décider seul.
Votre lettre a mis quelque temps à me parvenir ici, où pourtant
j'habite. Dès que j'aurai la réponse du _Mercure de France_ je
m'empresserai de vous la faire savoir.
Veuillez croire, Monsieur, à l'assurance de mes meilleurs sentiments.
ANDRÉ GIDE.
_Septembre 9, 1904._
II.
Monsieur,
Je laisse à mon éditeur le soin de vous écrire au sujet des conditions
de la publication en anglais de mon étude..... Je désire, comme je
vous le disais, que la traduction que vous proposez de faire se
reporte au texte donné par le _Mercure de France_ dans mon volume
_Prétextes_, et non à celui, fautif, de 'l'Ermitage.'....
Le texte des contes de Wilde que je cite s'éloigne, ainsi que vous
pouvez le voir, du texte anglais que Wilde lui-même en a donné. Il
importe que ce _texte oral_ reste différent du texte écrit de ces
'poems in prose.' Je crois, si ridicule que cela puisse paraître
d'abord, qu'il faut retraduire en anglais le texte francais que j'en
donne (et que j'ai écrit presque sous la dictée de Wilde) et non pas
citer simplement le texte anglais tel que Wilde le rédigea plus tard.
L'effet en est très différent.
Veuillez croire, Monsieur, à l'assurance de mes sentiments les
meilleurs.
ANDRÉ GIDE.
_Septembre 14th, 1904._
* * * * *
Oscar Wilde
I was at Biskra in December, 1900, when I learned through the
newspapers of the lamentable end of Oscar Wilde. Distance, alas!
prevented me from joining in the meagre procession which followed his
body to the cemetery at Bagneux. It was of no use reproaching myself
that my absence would seem to diminish still further the small number
of friends who remained faithful to him--at least I wanted to write
these few pages at once, but for a considerable period Wilde's name
seemed to become once more the property of the newspapers.
Now that every idle rumour connected with his name, so sadly famous,
is hushed; now that the mob is at last wearied after having praised,
wondered at, and then reviled him, perhaps, a friend may be allowed
to lay, like a wreath on a forsaken grave, these lines of affection,
admiration, and respectful pity.
When the trial, with all its scandal, which so excited the public mind
in England threatened to wreck his life, certain writers and artists
attempted to carry out, in the name of literature and art, a kind of
rescue. It was hoped that by praising the writer the man would be
excused. Unfortunately, there was a misunderstanding here, for it must
be acknowledged that Wilde was not a great writer. The leaden buoy
which was thrown to him helped only to weigh him down; his works, far
from keeping him up, seemed to sink with him. In vain were some hands
stretched out: the torrent of the world overwhelmed him--all was over.
[Illustration: OSCAR WILDE AT OXFORD, 1878.]
It was not possible at that time to think of defending him in any other
way. Instead of trying to shelter the man behind his work, it was
necessary to show forth first the man as an object of admiration--as
I am going to try to do now--and then the work itself illuminated by
his personality. 'I have put all my genius into my life; I have put
only my talent into my works,' said Wilde once. Great writer, no, but
great _viveur_, yes, if one may use the word in the fullest sense of
the French term. Like certain Greek philosophers of old, Wilde did not
write his wisdom, but spoke and lived it, entrusting it rashly to the
fleeting memory of man, thereby writing it as it were on water.
Let those who knew him for a longer time than I did, tell the story of
his life. One of those who listened to him the most eagerly relates
here simply a few personal recollections.
I.
And the mighty nations | 3,136.652507 |
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Books by Woodrow Wilson
CONGRESSIONAL GOVERNMENT. A Study in
American Politics. 16mo, $1.25.
MERE LITERATURE, and Other Essays, 12mo,
$1.50.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
CONGRESSIONAL GOVERNMENT
_A STUDY IN AMERICAN POLITICS_
BY
WOODROW WILSON
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY WOODROW WILSON
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
To
His Father,
THE PATIENT GUIDE OF HIS YOUTH,
THE GRACIOUS COMPANION OF HIS MANHOOD,
HIS BEST INSTRUCTOR AND MOST LENIENT CRITIC,
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
BY
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE TO FIFTEENTH EDITION.
I have been led by the publication of a French translation of this
little volume to read it through very carefully, for the first time
since its first appearance. The re-reading has convinced me that it
ought not to go to another impression without a word or two by way of
preface with regard to the changes which our singular system of
Congressional government has undergone since these pages were written.
I must ask those who read them now to remember that they were written
during the years 1883 and 1884, and that, inasmuch as they describe a
living system, like all other living things subject to constant subtle
modifications, alike of form and of function, their description of the
government of the United States is not as accurate now as I believe it
to have been at the time I wrote it.
This is, as might have been expected, more noticeable in matters of
detail than in matters of substance. There are now, for example, not
three hundred and twenty-five, but three hundred and fifty-seven members
in the House of Representatives; and that number will, no doubt, be
still further increased by the reapportionment which will follow the
census of the present year. The number of committees in both Senate and
House is constantly on the increase. It is now usually quite sixty in
the House, and in the Senate more than forty. There has been a still
further addition to the number of the "spending" committees in the House
of Representatives, by the subdivision of the powerful Committee on
Appropriations. Though the number of committees in nominal control of
the finances of the country is still as large as ever, the tendency is
now towards a concentration of all that is vital in the business into
the hands of a few of the more prominent, which are most often mentioned
in the text. The auditing committees on the several departments, for
example, have now for some time exercised little more than a merely
nominal oversight over executive expenditures.
Since the text was written, the Tenure of Office Act, which sought to
restrict the President's removal from office, has been repealed; and
even before its repeal it was, in fact, inoperative. After the time of
President Johnson, against whom it was aimed, the party in power in
Congress found little occasion to insist upon its enforcement; its
constitutionality was doubtful, and it fell into the background. I did
not make sufficient allowance for these facts in writing the one or two
sentences of the book which refer to the Act.
Neither did I give sufficient weight, I now believe, to the powers of
the Secretary of the Treasury. However minutely bound, guided,
restricted by statute, his power has proved at many a critical juncture
in our financial history--notably in our recent financial history--of
the utmost consequence. Several times since this book was written, the
country has been witness to his decisive influence upon the money
markets, in the use of his authority with regard to the bond issues of
the government and his right to control the disposition of the funds of
the Treasury. In these matters, however, he has exercised, not
political, but business power. He has helped the markets as a banker
would help them. He has altered no policy. He has merely made
arrangements which would release money for use and facilitate loan and
investment. The country feels safer when an experienced banker, like Mr.
Gage, is at the head of the Treasury, than when an experienced
politician is in charge of it.
All these, however, are matters of detail. There are matters of
substance to speak of also.
It is to be doubted whether I could say quite so confidently now as I
said in 1884 that the Senate of the United States faithfully represents
the several elements of the nation's makeup, and furnishes us with a
prudent and normally constituted moderating and revising chamber.
Certainly vested interests have now got a much more formidable hold upon
the Senate than they seemed to have sixteen years ago. Its political
character also has undergone a noticeable change. The tendency seems to
be to make of the Senate, instead of merely a smaller and more
deliberate House of Representatives, a body of successful party
managers. Still, these features of its life may be temporary, and may
easily be exaggerated. We do not yet know either whether they will
persist, or, should they persist, whither they will lead us.
A more important matter--at any rate, a thing more concrete and
visible--is the gradual integration of the organization of the House of
Representatives. The power of the Speaker has of late years taken on new
phases. He is now, more than ever, expected to guide and control the
whole course of business in the House,--if not alone, at any rate
through the instrumentality of the small Committee on Rules, of which he
is chairman. That committee is expected not only to reformulate and
revise from time to time the permanent Rules of the House, but also to
look closely to the course of its business from day to day, make its
programme, and virtually control its use of its time. The committee
consists of five members; but the Speaker and the two other members of
the committee who represent the majority in the House determine its
action; and its action is allowed to govern the House. It in effect
regulates the precedence of measures. Whenever occasion requires, it
determines what shall, and what shall not, be undertaken. It is like a
steering ministry,--without a ministry's public responsibility, and
without a ministry's right to speak for both houses. It is a private
piece of party machinery within the single chamber for which it acts.
The Speaker himself--not as a member of the Committee on Rules, but by
the exercise of his right to "recognize" on the floor--undertakes to
determine very absolutely what bills individual members shall be allowed
to bring to a vote, out of the regular order fixed by the rules or
arranged by the Committee on Rules.
This obviously creates, in germ at least, a recognized and sufficiently
concentrated leadership within the House. The country is beginning to
know that the Speaker and the Committee on Rules must be held
responsible in all ordinary seasons for the success or failure of the
session, so far as the House is concerned. The congressional caucus has
fallen a little into the background. It is not often necessary to call
it together, except when the majority is impatient or recalcitrant under
the guidance of the Committee on Rules. To this new leadership,
however, as to everything else connected with committee government, the
taint of privacy attaches. It is not leadership upon the open floor,
avowed, defended in public debate, set before the view and criticism of
the country. It integrates the House alone, not the Senate; does not
unite the two houses in policy; affects only the chamber in which there
is the least opportunity for debate, the least chance that
responsibility may be properly and effectively lodged and avowed. It has
only a very remote and partial resemblance to genuine party leadership.
Much the most important change to be noticed is the result of the war
with Spain upon the lodgment and exercise of power within our federal
system: the greatly increased power and opportunity for constructive
statesmanship given the President, by the plunge into international
politics and into the administration of distant dependencies, which has
been that war's most striking and momentous consequence. When foreign
affairs play a prominent part in the politics and policy of a nation,
its Executive must of necessity be its guide: must utter every initial
judgment, take every first step of action, supply the information upon
which it is to act, suggest and in large measure control its conduct.
The President of the United States is now, as of course, at the front of
affairs, as no president, except Lincoln, has been since the first
quarter of the nineteenth century, when the foreign relations of the new
nation had first to be adjusted. There is no trouble now about getting
the President's speeches printed and read, every word. Upon his choice,
his character, his experience hang some of the most weighty issues of
the future. The government of dependencies must be largely in his hands.
Interesting things may come out of the singular change.
For one thing, new prizes in public service may attract a new order of
talent. The nation may get a better civil service, because of the sheer
necessity we shall be under of organizing a service capable of carrying
the novel burdens we have shouldered.
It may be, too, that the new leadership of the Executive, inasmuch as it
is likely to last, will have a very far-reaching effect upon our whole
method of government. It may give the heads of the executive departments
a new influence upon the action of Congress. It may bring about, as a
consequence, an integration which will substitute statesmanship for
government by mass meeting. It may put this whole volume hopelessly out
of date.
WOODROW WILSON.
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, 15 _August_, 1900.
PREFACE
The object of these essays is not to exhaust criticism of the government
of the United States, but only to point out the most characteristic
practical features of the federal system. Taking Congress as the central
and predominant power of the system, their object is to illustrate
everything Congressional. Everybody has seen, and critics without number
have said, that our form of national government is singular, possessing
a character altogether its own; but there is abundant evidence that very
few have seen just wherein it differs most essentially from the other
governments of the world. There have been and are other federal systems
quite similar, and scarcely any legislative or administrative principle
of our Constitution was young even when that Constitution was framed. It
is our legislative and administrative _machinery_ which makes our
government essentially different from all other great governmental
systems. The most striking contrast in modern politics is not between
presidential and monarchical governments, but between Congressional and
Parliamentary governments. Congressional government is Committee
government; Parliamentary government is government by a responsible
Cabinet Ministry. These are the two principal types which present
themselves for the instruction of the modern student of the practical in
politics: administration by semi-independent executive agents who obey
the dictation of a legislature to which they are not responsible, and
administration by executive agents who are the accredited leaders and
accountable servants of a legislature virtually supreme in all things.
My chief aim in these essays has been, therefore, an adequate
illustrative contrast of these two types of government, with a view to
making as plain as possible the actual conditions of federal
administration. In short, I offer, not a commentary, but an outspoken
presentation of such cardinal facts as may be sources of practical
suggestion.
WOODROW WILSON
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY, _October_ 7, 1884.
CONTENTS.
I. INTRODUCTORY 1
II. THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES 58
III. THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. REVENUE AND SUPPLY 130
IV. THE SENATE 193
V. THE EXECUTIVE 242
VI. CONCLUSION 294
CONGRESSIONAL GOVERNMENT:
A STUDY IN AMERICAN POLITICS.
I.
INTRODUCTORY.
The laws reach but a very little way. Constitute government how you
please, infinitely the greater part of it must depend upon the
exercise of powers, which are left at large to the prudence and
uprightness of ministers of state. Even all the use and potency of
the laws depends upon them. Without them your commonwealth is no
better than a scheme upon paper; and not a living, active,
effective organization.--BURKE.
The great fault of political writers is their too close adherence
to the forms of the system of state which they happen to be
expounding or examining. They stop short at the anatomy of
institutions, and do not penetrate to the secret of their
functions.--JOHN MORLEY.
It would seem as if a very wayward fortune had presided over the history
of the Constitution of the United States, inasmuch as that great federal
charter has been alternately violated by its friends and defended by its
enemies. It came hard by its establishment in the first place,
prevailing with difficulty over the strenuous forces of dissent which
were banded against it. While its adoption was under discussion the
voices of criticism were many and authoritative, the voices of
opposition loud in tone and ominous in volume, and the Federalists
finally triumphed only by dint of hard battle against foes, formidable
both in numbers and in skill. But the victory was complete,--astonishingly
complete. Once established, the new government had only the zeal of its
friends to fear. Indeed, after its organization very little more is
heard of the party of opposition; they disappear so entirely from
politics that one is inclined to think, in looking back at the party
history of that time, that they must have been not only conquered but
converted as well. There was well-nigh universal acquiescence in the new
order of things. Not everybody, indeed, professed himself a Federalist,
but everybody conformed to federalist practice. There were jealousies
and bickerings, of course, in the new Congress of the Union, but no
party lines, and the differences which caused the constant brewing and
breaking of storms in Washington's first cabinet were of personal rather
than of political import. Hamilton and Jefferson did not draw apart
because the one had been an ardent and the other only a lukewarm friend
of the Constitution, so much as because they were so different in
natural bent and temper that they would have been like to disagree and
come to drawn points wherever or however brought into contact. The one
had inherited warm blood and a bold sagacity, while in the other a
negative philosophy ran suitably through cool veins. They had not been
meant for yoke-fellows.
There was less antagonism in Congress, however, than in the cabinet; and
in none of the controversies that did arise was there shown any serious
disposition to quarrel with the Constitution itself; the contention was
as to the obedience to be rendered to its provisions. No one threatened
to withhold his allegiance, though there soon began to be some
exhibition of a disposition to confine obedience to the letter of the
new commandments, and to discountenance all attempts to do what was not
plainly written in the tables of the law. It was recognized as no longer
fashionable to say aught against the principles of the Constitution; but
all men could not be of one mind, and political parties began to take
form in antagonistic schools of constitutional construction. There
straightway arose two rival sects of political Pharisees, each
professing a more perfect conformity and affecting greater "ceremonial
cleanliness" than the other. The very men who had resisted with might
and main the adoption of the Constitution became, under the new division
of parties, its champions, as sticklers for a strict, a rigid, and
literal construction.
They were consistent enough in this, because it was quite natural that
their one-time fear of a strong central government should pass into a
dread of the still further expansion of the power of that government, by
a too loose construction of its charter; but what I would emphasize here
is not the motives or the policy of the conduct of parties in our early
national politics, but the fact that opposition to the Constitution as a
constitution, and even hostile criticism of its provisions, ceased
almost immediately upon its adoption; and not only ceased, but gave
place to an undiscriminating and almost blind worship of its principles,
and of that delicate dual system of sovereignty, and that complicated
scheme of double administration which it established. Admiration of that
one-time so much traversed body of law became suddenly all the vogue,
and criticism was estopped. From the first, even down to the time
immediately preceding the war, the general scheme of the Constitution
went unchallenged; nullification itself did not always wear its true
garb of independent state sovereignty, but often masqueraded as a
constitutional right; and the most violent policies took care to make
show of at least formal deference to the worshipful fundamental law. The
divine right of kings never ran a more prosperous course than did this
unquestioned prerogative of the Constitution to receive universal
homage. The conviction that our institutions were the best in the
world, nay more, the model to which all civilized states must sooner or
later conform, could not be laughed out of us by foreign critics, nor
shaken out of us by the roughest jars of the system.
Now there is, of course, nothing in all this that is inexplicable, or
even remarkable; any one can see the reasons for it and the benefits of
it without going far out of his way; but the point which it is
interesting to note is that we of the present generation are in the
first season of free, outspoken, unrestrained constitutional criticism.
We are the first Americans to hear our own countrymen ask whether the
Constitution is still adapted to serve the purposes for which it was
intended; the first to entertain any serious doubts about the
superiority of our own institutions as compared with the systems of
Europe; the first to think of remodeling the administrative machinery of
the federal government, and of forcing new forms of responsibility upon
Congress.
The evident explanation of this change of attitude towards the
Constitution is that we have been made conscious by the rude shock of
the war and by subsequent developments of policy, that there has been a
vast alteration in the conditions of government; that the checks and
balances which once obtained are no longer effective; and that we are
really living under a constitution essentially different from that which
we have been so long worshiping as our own peculiar and incomparable
possession. In short, this model government is no longer conformable
with its own original pattern. While we have been shielding it from
criticism it has slipped away from us. The noble charter of fundamental
law given us by the Convention of 1787 is still our Constitution; but it
is now our _form of government_ rather in name than in reality, the form
of the Constitution being one of nicely adjusted, ideal balances, whilst
the actual form of our present government is simply a scheme of
congressional supremacy. National legislation, of course, takes force
now as at first from the authority of the Constitution; but it would be
easy to reckon by the score acts of Congress which can by | 3,136.746224 |
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THE
ORCHID ALBUM,
COMPRISING
<DW52> FIGURES AND DESCRIPTIONS
OF
NEW, RARE, AND BEAUTIFUL
ORCHIDACEOUS PLANTS.
CONDUCTED BY
ROBERT WARNER, F.L.S., F.R.H.S.,
Author of SELECT ORCHIDACEOUS PLANTS,
AND
BENJAMIN SAMUEL WILLIAMS, F.L.S., F.R.H.S.,
Author of the ORCHID-GROWERS’ MANUAL, etc.
The Botanical Descriptions by THOMAS MOORE, F.L.S., F.R.H.S.,
CURATOR of the CHELSEA BOTANIC GARDENS.
_THE <DW52> FIGURES BY JOHN NUGENT FITCH, F.L.S._
VOLUME I.
LONDON:
Published by B. S. Williams,
AT THE
VICTORIA AND PARADISE NURSERIES, UPPER HOLLOWAY, N.
MDCCCLXXXII.
DEDICATED
BY SPECIAL PERMISSION
TO
_H.R.H. The Princess of Wales,_
BY
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS’
Very obedient and humble Servants,
ROBERT WARNER,
BENJAMIN S. WILLIAMS.
PREFACE.
The great advances which have been made within the last few years in the
introduction and the cultivation of Exotic Orchids, have suggested the
desirability of devoting a monthly publication to the illustration of
the best forms of these singular and captivating aristocratic plants,
and also to the explanation of the most successful methods of growing
them, its object being to supply such information concerning them as the
Orchid Grower may be likely to find useful in directing his purchases,
and in suggesting the various points of discreet and masterly
management. Moreover, we have found that figures of the better varieties
of Orchids are much in request.
These considerations have induced us to commence the publication of the
Orchid Album, in the confident expectation that we shall meet with
sufficient support and encouragement to enable us to continue it, and,
so far as our experience goes, we have no reason to feel disappointed,
for we find that Orchid growers, both amateur and professional, are
taking a marked interest not only in the plates but also in the cultural
notes.
In regard to the subjects for illustration, we hope in due course to
figure not only the typical form of all the more popular and interesting
species, but also the leading varieties, when they prove sufficiently
distinct and meritorious. It is for these that we anticipate our
subscribers and readers will most anxiously look.
Being of Royal Quarto size, the pages of the Album are sufficiently
large to enable the artist to produce ample and intelligible portraits
of the plants without their becoming cumbersome; and, as they will be
drawn and in the best style, we confidently hope they will
prove to be acceptable to the lovers and growers of Orchids generally.
Thus we trust we may be permitted to lay before our patrons an
acceptable Annual Album of Floral Pictures, which will be, at once,
welcomed both to the Drawing-room and the Library.
The work has been commenced in deference to the urgent representations
of many of the leading cultivators of these remarkable and fascinating
plants, who have pointed out to us the want which we are now
endeavouring to meet. The great advantage and pleasure which Orchid
Growers have derived from the publication of such illustrated works as
the _Select Orchidaceous Plants_, and such practical instructions as are
given in the _Orchid Grower’s Manual_, lead us to believe that there
exists a desire and a taste for further Orchidic literature, which we
trust the Orchid Album may in some considerable degree supply. Our chief
aim will be to give authentic information as to the nomenclature of the
plants, and to disseminate correct instructions in regard to their
cultural requirements. The finer new Orchids, as well as the older
meritorious species and varieties, will be figured with equal fidelity,
and described with equal accuracy. We shall at all times feel grateful
to those Amateurs or Trade growers who may give us information as to the
flowering either of novelties or of remarkably fine forms of the older
kinds, especially if they are such as will be suitable for figuring.
The Annual Volumes will consist of the twelve Monthly Parts issued up to
June in each year, when the volume will be completed by the publication
of a Title Page and Index.
B. S. WILLIAMS.
Victoria and Paradise Nurseries,
Upper Holloway, London, N.,
_June 1st, 1882_.
INDEX TO PLATES.
PLATE
AËRIDES LOBBII, _Hort. Veitch_ 21
ANGRÆCUM EBURNEUM, _Du Pet.-Th._ 41
ANGULOA RUCKERII SANGUINEA, _Lindl._ 19
BURLINGTONIA CANDIDA, _Lindl._ 18
CALANTHE VEITCHII, _Lindl._ 31
CATTLEYA GUTTATA LEOPOLDII, _Lind. et Rchb. f._ 16
CATTLEYA MENDELII GRANDIFLORA, _Williams et Moore_ 3
CATTLEYA MORGANÆ, _Williams et Moore_ 6
CATTLEYA SUPERBA SPLENDENS, _Lem._ 33
CATTLEYA TRIANÆ, _Lind. et Rchb. f._ 45
CATTLEYA VELUTINA, _Rchb. f._ 26
CŒLOGYNE MASSANGEANA, _Rchb. f._ 29
CYMBIDIUM PARISHII, _Rchb. f._ 25
CYPRIPEDIUM CHLORONEURUM, _Rchb. f._ 37
CYPRIPEDIUM LAWRENCEANUM, _Rchb. f._ 22
CYPRIPEDIUM POLITUM, _Rchb. f._ 36
CYPRIPEDIUM STONEI, _Low_ 8
DENDROBIUM AINSWORTHII ROSEUM, _Moore_ 20
DENDROBIUM BIGIBBUM, _Lindl._ 38
DENDROBIUM SUAVISSIMUM, _Rchb. f._ 13
DENDROBIUM SUPERBUM, _Rchb. f._ 42
EPIDENDRUM VITELLINUM MAJUS, _Hort._ 4
LÆLIA ANCEPS DAWSONI, _Anders._ 44
LÆLIA ELEGANS ALBA, _Williams et Moore_ 30
LÆLIA PURPURATA WILLIAMSII, _Hort._ 9-10
LÆLIA SCHRÖDERII, _Williams et Moore_ 2
LÆLIA XANTHINA, _Lindl._ 23
MASDEVALLIA HARRYANA CŒRULESCENS, _Hort._ 24
MASDEVALLIA SHUTTLEWORTHII, _Rchb. f._ 5
MILTONIA CUNEATA, _Lindl._ 46
ODONTOGLOSSUM ALEXANDRÆ, _Batem._ 47
ODONTOGLOSSUM ALEXANDRÆ FLAVEOLUM, _Williams et Moore_ 43
ODONTOGLOSSUM ANDERSONIANUM, _Rchb. f._ 35
ODONTOGLOSSUM BREVIFOLIUM, _Lindl._ 27
ODONTOGLOSSUM KRAMERI, _Rchb. f._ 40
ONCIDIUM CONCOLOR, _Hook._ 1
ONCIDIUM GARDNERI, _Lindl._ 12
ONCIDIUM HÆMATOCHILUM, _Lindl._ 32
PAPHINIA CRISTATA, _Lindl._ 34
PESCATOREA KLABOCHORUM, _Rchb. f._ 17
PHALÆNOPSIS AMABILIS DAYANA, _Hort._ 11
PHALÆNOPSIS STUARTIANA NOBILIS, _Rchb. f._ 39
PROMENÆA CITRINA, _Don._ 7
TRICHOPILIA SUAVIS ALBA, _Hort._ 14
VANDA CŒRULESCENS, _Griff._ 48
VANDA PARISHII, _Rchb. f._ 15
ZYGOPETALUM GAUTIERI, _Lem._ 28
INDEX TO NOTES AND SYNONYMS.
UNDER PLATE
Aërides Fieldingii, Dr. Ainsworth’s 4
Aërides Leeanum, Mr. Law-Schofield’s 37
Aërides odoratum majus, Mrs. Arbuthnot’s 14
Aërides Schröderii, Dr. Ainsworth’s 4
Aërides suavissimum, Mr. Coates’ 18
Angræcum eburneum virens 41
Angræcum sesquipedale, Mr. Coates’ 18
Angræcum superbum, _Du Pet.-Th._ 41
Bletia xanthina, _Rchb. f._ 23
Bollea cœlestis, as a block plant 40
Bolleas, Mr. Gair’s 17
Cattleya Dowiana, Mr. Dodgson’s 19
Cattleya Dowiana, Mr. Lee’s 2
Cattleya gigas, Mr. Bockett’s 6
Cattleya gigas, Mr. Lee’s 2
Cattleya labiata Lindigiana, _Karst._ 45
Cattleya labiata Trianæ, _Duch._ 45
Cattleya Leopoldii, _Hort. Versch._ 16
Cattleya superba, Sir T. Lawrence’s 3
Cattleya Trianæ, Mr. Wright’s 41
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MEMOIRS
OF THE
Marchioness of Pompadour.
WRITTEN BY HERSELF.
Wherein are Displayed
The Motives of the Wars, Treaties of Peace, Embassies, and
Negotiations, in the several Courts of Europe:
The Cabals and Intrigues of Courtiers; the Characters of Generals,
and Ministers of State, with the Causes of their Rise and Fall;
and, in general, the most remarkable Occurrences at the Court of
France, during the last twenty Years of the Reign of Lewis XV.
Translated from the French.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
Printed for P. VAILLANT, in the Strand; and
W. JOHNSTON, in Ludgate-Street.
MDCCLXVI.
THE
EDITOR’S PREFACE.
The following work must be acknowledged highly interesting to these
times; and to posterity will be still more so. These are not the memoirs
of a mere woman of pleasure, who has spent her life in a voluptuous
court, but the history of a reign remarkable for revolutions, wars,
intrigues, alliances, negotiations; the very blunders of which are not
beneath the regard of politicians, as having greatly contributed to give
a new turn to the affairs of Europe.
The Lady who drew the picture was known to be an admirable colourist.
They who were personally acquainted with Mademoiselle Poisson, before
and since her marriage with M. le Normand, know her to have been
possessed of a great deal of that wit, which, with proper culture,
improves into genius.
The King called her to court at a tempestuous season of life, when the
passions reign uncontrouled, and by corrupting the heart, enlarge the
understanding.
They who are near the persons of Kings, for the most part, surpass the
common run of mankind, both in natural and acquired talents; for
ambition is ever attended with a sort of capacity to compass its ends;
and all courtiers are ambitious.
No sooner does the Sovereign take a mistress, than the courtiers flock
about her. Their first concern is to give her her cue; for as they
intend to avail themselves of her interest with the King, she must be
made acquainted with a multitude of things: she may be said to receive
her intelligence from the first hand, and to draw her knowledge at the
fountain head.
Lewis XV. intrusted the Marchioness de Pompadour with the greatest
concerns of the nation; so that if she had been without those abilities
which distinguished her at Paris, she must still have improved in the
school of Versailles.
Her talents did not clear her in the public eye; never was a favourite
more outrageously pelted with pamphlets, or exposed to more clamorous
invectives. Of this her Memoirs are a full demonstration; her enemies
charged her with many very odious vices, without so much as allowing her
one good quality. The grand subject of murmur was the bad state of the
finances, which they attributed to her amours with the King.
They who brand the Marchioness with having run Lewis XV. into vast
expences, seem to have forgot those which his predecessor’s mistresses
had brought on the state.
Madame de la Valiere, even before she was declared mistress to Lewis
XIV. induced him to give entertainments, which cost the nation more than
ever Madame de Pompadour’s fortune amounted to.
Madame de Montespan put the same Prince to very enormous expences; she
appeared always with the pomp and parade of a Queen, even to the having
guards to attend her.
Scarron’s widow carried her pride and ostentation still further: she
drew the King in to marry her, and this mistress came to be queen, an
elevation which will be an eternal blot on the Prince’s memory.
This clandestine commerce gave rise to an infamous practice at court,
with which Madame de Pompadour cannot be charged. All these concubines
having children, to gratify their vanity, they must be legitimated; and,
afterwards, they found means to marry these sons, or daughters, of
prostitution, to the branches of the royal blood; a flagrant debasement
of the house which were in kin to the crown: for though a Sovereign can
legitimate a bastard, to efface the stain of bastardy is beyond his
power. The consequence was, that the descendants of that clandestine
issue aspired to the throne; and, through the King’s scandalous amours,
that lustre which is due only to virtue, fell to the portion of vice.
It was given out in France, and over all Europe, that Madame de
Pompadour was immensely rich: but nothing of this appeared at her death,
except her magnificent moveables, and these were rather the
consequences of her rank at court, than the effects of her vanity. This
splendor his Majesty partook of, as visiting her every day.
The public is generally an unfair judge of those who hold a considerable
station at court, deciding from vague reports, which are often the
forgeries of ill-grounded prejudice. Madame de Pompadour has been
charged with insatiable avarice. Had this been the case, she might have
indulged herself at will: she was at the spring-head of opulence; the
King never refused her any thing; so that she might have amassed any
money; which she did not. There are now existing, in France, fifty
wretches of financiers, each of a fortune far exceeding her’s.
It was also said, that the best thing which could happen to France, was
to be rid of this rapacious favourite. Well; she is no more; and what is
France the better for it? Has her death been followed by one of those
sudden revolutions in the government, which usher in a better form of
administration? Have they who looked on this Lady as an unsurmountable
obstacle to France’s greatness, proposed any better means for raising it
from its present low state? Is there more order in the government? are
the finances improved? is there more method and oeconomy? No, affairs
are still in the same bad ways the lethargy continues as profound as
ever. The ministry, which before Madame de Pompadour’s death was fast
asleep, is not yet awake. Every thing remains in _statu quo_. Some
European governments have no regular motion; they advance either too
fast, or too slow; their steps are either precipitate, or sluggish.
In this favourite’s time, there was too much shifting and changing in
the ministry; now she is gone, there is none at all, &c. &c.
I am very far from intending a panegyric on Madame de Pompadour. Faults
she had, which posterity will never forgive. All the calamities of
France were imputed to her, and she should have resigned in compliance
to the public: a nation is to be respected even in its prejudices. With
any tolerable share of patriotism, Madame de Pompadour would have
quitted the court, and thus approved herself deserving of the favour for
which she was execrated; but her soul was not capable of such an act of
magnanimity: she knew nothing of that philosophy which, inspiring a
contempt of external grandeur, endears the subject to the Prince, and
exalts him above the throne.
There is great appearance that this Lady intended to revise both her
Memoirs and her will, and that death prevented her: she used to write,
by starts, detached essays, without any coherence; and these on separate
bits of paper. These were very numerous and diffuse, as generally are
the materials intended to form a book, if she really had any such
design.
We were obliged to throw by on all sides, and clear our way through an
ocean of writings, a long and tiresome business.
It is far from being improbable, that Madame de Pompadour got some
statesman, well versed in such matters, to assist her in compiling this
book: however that be, we give it as it stands in her original
manuscript.
[Illustration: text decoration]
MEMOIRS
OF THE
Marchioness of Pompadour.
The following narrative is not confined to the particular history of my
life. My design is more extensive: I shall endeavour to give a true
representation of the court of France under the reign of Lewis XV. The
private memoirs of a King’s mistress are in themselves of small import;
but to know the character of the Prince who raises her to favour; to be
let into the intrigues of his reign, the genius of the courtiers, the
practices of the ministers, the views of the great, the projects of the
ambitious; in a word, into the secret springs of politics, is not a
matter of indifference.
It is very seldom that the public judges rightly of what passes in the
cabinet: they hear that the King orders armies to take the field; that
he wins or loses battles; and on these occurrences they argue according
to their particular prejudices.
History does not come nearer the mark; the generality of annalists being
only the echoes of the public mistakes.
These papers I do not intend to publish in my life-time; but should they
appear after my death, posterity will see in them a faithful draught of
the several parts of the administration, which were acted, in some
measure, under my eye. Had I never lived at Versailles, the events of
our times might have been an inexplicable riddle to posterity; so
complicated are the incidents, and in many particulars so
contradictory, that, without a key, there is no decyphering them.
Ministers and other place-men are not always acquainted with the means,
which they themselves make use of for attaining certain ends. A
plenipotentiary very well knows that he signs a treaty of peace, but he
is ignorant of the King’s motives for putting an end to the war.
Every politician strikes out a system in his own sagacious brain; the
speculatists have often fathered on France what she never dreamed of;
and many refined schemes have been attributed to her ministers, which
never made part of their plan.
It is not long since a minister of a certain court said to me at
Versailles, That the two last German wars, which cost France so much
blood, and three hundred millions of livres, was the greatest stroke of
policy which the age afforded; as this court had thereby insensibly, and
unknown to the rest of Europe, reduced the power of the Queen of
Hungary: for, added he, if, on the demise of Charles VI. this crown had
openly bent all its forces against the house of Austria, a general
alliance would have opposed it; whereas it has weakened that house by a
series of little battles and repeated losses, &c. &c.
The inserting such an anecdote in the annals of our age would be
sufficient to disfigure the whole history. The truth is, that they who
were at the head of the French affairs, during these two wars, had no
manner of genius.
All details not relative to the state I shall carefully omit, as rather
writing the age of Lewis XV. than the history of my private life. The
transactions of a King’s favourite concern only the reign of that
Prince; but truth is of perpetual concern.
I hope the public does not expect from me a circumstantial journal of
Lewis XV’s gallantries: the King had many transitory amours during my
residence at Versailles; but none of his mistresses were admitted into
the public affairs. The reign of the far greater part began and ended in
the Prince’s bed. These foibles, so closely connected with human nature,
belong rather to a King’s private life, than to the public history of a
Monarch: I may sometimes mention them, but it will only be by the way. I
shall likewise be silent in regard to my family. The particular favour
with which I have been honoured by Lewis XV. has placed my origin in
broad day-light. A Monarch in raising a woman to the summit of grandeur,
of course lays open the blemishes of her birth. The annals of the
universe have been overlooked, to make a singular case of what has been
almost a general practice in the world.
The Roman Emperors often raised so favour and eminence women of more
obscure birth than mine: but, without going so far backward, the history
of our own Kings abounds with such instances. Though the widow of
Scarron the poet rose a step higher than I, she was not born to such
exaltation. It is true her father was a gentleman; but all women, not
born Princesses, are at a like distance from the throne.
A multitude of injurious reports have been propagated concerning my
parents. A wretched anonymous writer has gone even farther, by
publishing a scandalous book with the title of the history of my life.
The Count D’Affry wrote to me from Holland, that this production was of
the growth of Great-Britain. The English seem to make it their
particular business to throw dirt at persons of distinguished rank at
the court of France: that government is said to claim such a privilege,
in order to keep up the hatred between the two nations.
Though my birth had nothing great in it, my education was not neglected.
I was taught dancing, music, and the rules of elocution, by excellent
masters; and those little talents have proved of the highest use to me.
I also read a great deal, and a favourite writer of mine was one Madame
de Villedieu. Her picture of the Roman empire entertained me
exceedingly. I even felt a very lively joy in observing that the
greatest revolutions in the world have been owing to love.
After bestowing on me all the accomplishments which advantageously
distinguish a young person of my sex, I was married to one whom I did
not love; and a misfortune still greater was, that he loved me. This I
call a misfortune, and indeed I know not a greater on earth; for a woman
not beloved by a man, whom she likewise has married without any
affection, at least comforts herself in his indifference.
During the first years of my marriage, the King’s gallantries were much
talked of at Paris: his fleeting amours opened a field for all women,
who had beauty enough to put in for his heart.
The post of mistress to Lewis XV. was often vacant. At Versailles all
the passions had an appearance of debauchery. In that airy region love
was soon exhausted, as consisting wholly in fruition. Nothing of
delicacy was to be seen at court; the whole scene of sensibility was in
the Prince’s bed. This Monarch often laid down with a heart full of
love, and the next morning rose with as much indifference.
This account made me shudder; for I own I had then formed a design of
winning the heart of that Prince. I was afraid that he was so used to
change, as to be past all constancy.
I even, then, blushed at the thought of giving myself up to an
inclination of no farther consequence than a momentary gratification of
the senses; but was fixed on my design.
I had often seen the King at Versailles, without being perceived by him;
our looks had never met; my eyes had a great deal to say, but had no
opportunity of explaining my desires. At length I had an interview with
the Monarch, and, for the first time, talked with him in private. There
is no expressing what passed in me at this first conversation; fear,
hope, and admiration, successively agitated my soul. The King soon
dispelled my confusion; for Lewis XV. is certainly the most affable
Prince in his court, if not in the whole world. In private discourse his
rank lays no restraint, and all ideas of the throne are suspended; an
air of candour and goodness diffuses itself through every part of his
behaviour; in short, he can forget that he is a King, to be the more a
gentleman.
Our conversation was to me all charming: I pleased and was pleased. The
King has since owned to me, that he loved me from that first interview.
It was there agreed that we should see one another privately at
Versailles: he was very much for my immediately coming to an apartment
in the palace: he even insisted on it; but I begged he would give me
leave to remain still incognito for some time; and the King, being the
most polite man in France, yielded to my request. On my return to Paris,
a thousand fresh emotions rose in my breast. A strange thing is the
human heart! we feel the effects of those passions of which we know not
the cause. I am still at a loss whether I loved the King from this first
meeting: that it gave me infinite pleasure, I know; but pleasure is not
always a consequence of love. We are susceptible of a multitude of
other passions, which may produce the like effect.
I experienced a thousand delights in our secret intercourse: little do I
wonder that Madame de la Valiere, in the infancy of her amours with
Lewis XIV. was so transported with the sole enjoyment of that Monarch’s
affection: but at length, the King requiring that I should live at
Versailles, I complied with his desire.
Now was my first appearance at court. Very faint and imperfect are the
descriptions which books give of this grand theatre. I thought myself
amidst another species of mortals: I observed that their manners and
usages are not the same; and that in regard to dress, deportment, and
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NEW TABERNACLE SERMONS
BY
T. DE WITT TALMAGE, D.D.
AUTHOR OF
"_CRUMBS SWEPT UP_," "_THE ABOMINATIONS OF MODERN SOCIETY_," etc.
Delivered in the Brooklyn Tabernacle.
VOL. I
NEW YORK:
GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER,
17 TO 27 VANDEWATER STREET.
1886.
[Illustration: T. De Witt Talmage]
_Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by_
GEORGE MUNRO, _in the Office of the Librarian of Congress,
Washington, D.C._
CONTENTS.
PAGE
BRAWN AND MUSCLE 7
THE PLEIADES AND ORION 21
THE QUEEN'S VISIT 34
VICARIOUS SUFFERING 45
POSTHUMOUS OPPORTUNITY 59
THE LORD'S RAZOR 72
WINDOWS TOWARD JERUSALEM 83
STORMED AND TAKEN 95
ALL THE WORLD AKIN 108
A MOMENTOUS QUEST 119
THE GREAT ASSIZE 134
THE ROAD TO THE CITY 147
THE RANSOMLESS 158
THE THREE GROUPS 171
THE INSIGNIFICANT 184
THE THREE RINGS 197
HOW HE CAME TO SAY IT 209
CASTLE JESUS 221
STRIPPING THE SLAIN 233
SOLD OUT 246
SUMMER TEMPTATIONS 259
THE BANISHED QUEEN 274
THE DAY WE LIVE IN 285
CAPITAL AND LABOR 297
DESPOTISM OF THE NEEDLE 311
TOBACCO AND OPIUM 325
WHY ARE SATAN AND SIN PERMITTED? 339
BRAWN AND MUSCLE.
"And Samson went down to Timnath."--JUDGES xiv: 1.
There are two sides to the character of Samson. The one phase of his
life, if followed into the particulars, would administer to the
grotesque and the mirthful; but there is a phase of his character
fraught with lessons of solemn and eternal import. To these graver
lessons we devote our morning sermon.
This giant no doubt in early life gave evidences of what he was to be.
It is almost always so. There were two Napoleons--the boy Napoleon and
the man Napoleon--but both alike; two Howards--the boy Howard and the
man Howard--but both alike; two Samsons--the boy Samson and the man
Samson--but both alike. This giant was no doubt the hero of the
playground, and nothing could stand before his exhibitions of youthful
prowess. At eighteen years of age he was betrothed to the daughter of
a Philistine. Going down toward Timnath, a lion came out upon him,
and, although this young giant was weaponless, he seized the monster
by the long mane and shook him as a hungry hound shakes a March hare,
and made his bones crack, and left him by the wayside bleeding under
the smiting of his fist and the grinding heft of his heel.
There he stands, looming up above other men, a mountain of flesh, his
arms bunched with muscle that can lift the gate of a city, taking an
attitude defiant of everything. His hair had never been cut, and it
rolled down in seven great plaits over his shoulders, adding to his
bulk, fierceness, and terror. The Philistines want to conquer him, and
therefore they must find out where the secret of his strength lies.
There is a dissolute woman living in the valley of Sorek by the name
of Delilah. They appoint her the agent in the case. The Philistines
are secreted in the same building, and then Delilah goes to work and
coaxes Samson to tell what is the secret of his strength. "Well," he
says, "if you should take seven green withes such as they fasten wild
beasts with and put them around me I should be perfectly powerless."
So she binds him with the seven green withes. Then she claps her hands
and says: "They come--the Philistines!" and he walks out as though
they were no impediment. She coaxes him again, and says: "Now tell me
the secret of this great strength?" and he replies: "If you should
take some ropes that have never been used and tie me with them I
should be just like other men." She ties him with the ropes, claps her
hands, and shouts: "They come--the Philistines!" He walks out as
easily as he did before--not a single obstruction. She coaxes him
again, and he says: "Now, if you should take these seven long plaits
of hair, and by this house-loom weave them into a web, I could not get
away." So the house-loom is rolled up, and the shuttle flies backward
and forward and the long plaits of hair are woven into a web. Then she
claps her hands, and says: "They come--the Philistines!" He walks out
as easily as he did before, dragging a part of the loom with him.
But after awhile she persuades him to tell the truth. He says: "If you
should take a razor or shears and cut off this long hair, I should be
powerless and in the hands of my enemies." Samson sleeps, and that she
may not wake him up during the process of shearing, help is called in.
You know that the barbers of the East have such a skillful way of
manipulating the head to this very day that, instead of waking up a
sleeping man, they will put a man wide awake sound asleep. I hear the
blades of the shears grinding against each other, and I see the long
locks falling off. The shears or razor accomplishes what green withes
and new ropes and house-loom could not do. Suddenly she claps her
hands, and says: "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" He rouses up
with a struggle, but his strength is all gone. He is in the hands of
his enemies.
I hear the groan of the giant as they take his eyes out, and then I
see him staggering on in his blindness, feeling his way as he goes on
toward Gaza. The prison door is open, and the giant is thrust in. He
sits down and puts his hands on the mill-crank, which, with exhausting
horizontal motion, goes day after day, week after week, month after
month--work, work, work! The consternation of the world in captivity,
his locks shorn, his eyes punctured, grinding corn in Gaza!
I. First of all, behold in this giant of the text that physical power
is not always an index of moral power. He was a huge man--the lion
found it out, and the three thousand men whom he slew found it out;
yet he was the subject of petty revenges and out-gianted by low
passion. I am far from throwing any discredit upon physical stamina.
There are those who seem to have great admiration for delicacy and
sickliness of constitution. I never could see any glory in weak nerves
or sick headache. Whatever effort in our day is made to make the men
and women more robust should have the favor of every good citizen as
well as of every Christian. Gymnastics may be positively religious.
Good people sometimes ascribe to a wicked heart what they ought to
ascribe to a slow liver. The body and the soul are such near neighbors
that they often catch each other's diseases. Those who never saw a
sick day, and who, like Hercules, show the giant in the cradle, have
more to answer for than those who are the subjects of life-long
infirmities. He who can lift twice as much as you can, and walk twice
as far, and work twice as long, will have a double account to meet in
the judgment.
How often it is that you do not find physical energy indicative of
spiritual power! If a clear head is worth more than one dizzy with
perpetual vertigo--if muscles with the play of health in them are
worth more than those drawn up in chronic "rheumatics"--if an eye
quick to catch passing objects is better than one with vision dim and
uncertain--then God will require of us efficiency just in proportion
to what he has given us. Physical energy ought to be a type of moral
power. We ought to have as good digestion of truth as we have capacity
to assimilate food. Our spiritual hearing ought to be as good as our
physical hearing. Our spiritual taste ought to be as clear as our
tongue. Samsons in body, we ought to be giants in moral power.
But while you find a great many men who realize that they ought to use
their money aright, and use their intelligence aright, how few men you
find aware of the fact that they ought to use their physical organism
aright! With every thump of the heart there is something saying,
"Work! work!" and, lest we should complain that we have no tools to
work with, God gives us our hands and feet, with every knuckle, and
with every joint, and with every muscle saying to us, "Lay hold and do
something."
But how often it is that men with physical strength do not serve
Christ! They are like a ship full manned and full rigged, capable of
vast tonnage, able to endure all stress of weather, yet swinging idly
at the docks, when these men ought to be crossing and recrossing the
great ocean of human suffering and sin with God's supplies of mercy.
How often it is that physical strength is used in doing positive
damage, or in luxurious ease, when, with sleeves rolled up and bronzed
bosom, fearless of the shafts of opposition, it ought to be laying
hold with all its might, and tugging away to lift up this sunken wreck
of a world.
It is a most shameful fact that much of the business of the Church and
of the world must be done by those comparatively invalid. Richard
Baxter, by reason of his diseases, all his days sitting in the door of
the tomb, yet writing more than a hundred volumes, and sending out an
influence for God that will endure as long as the "Saints' Everlasting
Rest." Edward Payson, never knowing a well day, yet how he preached,
and how he wrote, helping thousands of dying souls like himself to
swim in a sea of glory! And Robert M'Cheyne, a walking skeleton, yet
you know what he did in Dundee, and how he shook Scotland with zeal
for God. Philip Doddridge, advised by his friends, because of his
illness, not to enter the ministry, yet you know what he did for the
"rise and progress of religion" in the Church and in the world.
Wilberforce was told by his doctors that he could not live a
fortnight, yet at that very time entering upon philanthropic
enterprises that demanded the greatest endurance and persistence.
Robert Hall, suffering excruciations, so that often in his pulpit
while preaching he would stop and lie down on a sofa, then getting up
again to preach about heaven until the glories of the celestial city
dropped on the multitude, doing more work, perhaps, than almost any
well man in his day.
Oh, how often it is that men with great physical endurance are not as
great in moral and spiritual stature! While there are achievements for
those who are bent all their days with sickness--achievements of
patience, achievements of Christian endurance--I call upon men of
health to-day, men of muscle, men of nerve, men of physical power, to
devote themselves to the Lord. Giants in body, you ought to be giants
in soul.
II. Behold also, in the story of my text, illustration of the fact of
the damage that strength can do if it be misguided. It seems to me
that this man spent a great deal of his time in doing evil--this
Samson of my text. To pay a bet which he had lost by guessing of his
riddle he robs and kills thirty people. He was not only gigantic in
strength, but gigantic in mischief, and a type of those men in all
ages of the world who, powerful in body or mind, or any faculty of
social position or wealth, have used their strength for iniquitous
purposes.
It is not the small, weak men of the day who do the damage. These
small men who go swearing and loafing about your stores and shops and
banking-houses, assailing Christ and the Bible and the Church--they do
not do the damage. They have no influence. They are vermin that you
crush with your foot. But it is the giants of the day, the misguided
giants, giants in physical power, or giants in mental acumen, or
giants in social position, or giants in wealth, who do the damage.
The men with sharp pens that stab religion and throw their poison all
through our literature; the men who use the power of wealth to
sanction iniquity, and bribe justice, and make truth and honor bow to
their golden scepter.
Misguided giants--look out for them! In the middle and the latter part
of the last century no doubt there were thousands of men in Paris and
Edinburgh and London who hated God and blasphemed the name of the
Almighty; but they did but little mischief--they were small men,
insignificant men. Yet there were giants in those days.
Who can calculate the soul-havoc of a Rousseau, going on with a very
enthusiasm of iniquity, with fiery imagination seizing upon all the
impulsive natures of his day? or David Hume, who employed his life as
a spider employs its summer, in spinning out silken webs to trap the
unwary? or Voltaire, the most learned man of his day, marshaling a
great host of skeptics, and leading them out in the dark land of
infidelity? or Gibbon, who showed an uncontrollable grudge against
religion in his history of one of the most fascinating periods of the
world's existence--the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire--a book in
which, with all the splendors of his genius, he magnified the errors
of Christian disciples, while, with a sparseness of notice that never
can be forgiven, he treated of the Christian heroes of whom the world
was not worthy?
Oh, men of stout physical health, men of great mental stature, men of
high social position, men of great power of any sort, I want you to
understand your power, and I want you to know that that power devoted
to God will be a crown on earth, to you typical of a crown in heaven;
but misguided, bedraggled in sin, administrative of evil, God will
thunder against you with His condemnation in the day when millionaire
and pauper, master and slave, king and subject, shall stand side by
side in the judgment, and money-bags, and judicial ermine, and royal
robe shall be riven with the lightnings.
Behold also, how a giant may be slain of a woman. Delilah started the
train of circumstances that pulled down the temple of Dagon about
Samson's ears. And tens of thousands of giants have gone down to death
and hell through the same impure fascinations. It seems to me that it
is high time that pulpit and platform and printing-press speak out
against the impurities of modern society. Fastidiousness and Prudery
say: "Better not speak--you will rouse up adverse criticism; you will
make worse what you want to make better; better deal in glittering
generalities; the subject is too delicate for polite ears." But there
comes a voice from heaven overpowering the mincing sentimentalities of
the day, saying: "Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a
trumpet, and show my people their transgressions and the house of
Jacob their sins."
The trouble is that when people write or speak upon this theme they
are apt to cover it up with the graces of belles-lettres, so that the
crime is made attractive instead of repulsive. Lord Byron in "Don
Juan" adorns this crime until it smiles like a May queen. Michelet,
the great French writer, covers it up with bewitching rhetoric until
it glows like the rising sun, when it ought to be made loathsome as a
small-pox hospital. There are to-day influences abroad which, if
unresisted by the pulpit and the printing-press, will turn New York
and Brooklyn into Sodom and Gomorrah, fit only for the storm of fire
and brimstone that whelmed the cities of the plain.
You who are seated in your Christian homes, compassed by moral and
religious restraints, do not realize the gulf of iniquity that bounds
you on the north and the south and the east and the west. While I
speak there are tens of thousands of men and women going over the
awful plunge of an impure life; and while I cry to God for mercy upon
their souls, I call upon you to marshal in the defense of your homes,
your Church and your nation. There is a banqueting hall that you have
never heard described. You know all about the feast of Ahasuerus,
where a thousand lords sat. You know all about Belshazzar's carousal,
where the blood of the murdered king spurted into the faces of the
banqueters. You may know of the scene of riot and wassail, when there
was set before Esopus one dish of food that cost $400,000. But I speak
now of a different banqueting hall. Its roof is fretted with fire. Its
floor is tesselated with fire. Its chalices are chased with fire. Its
song is a song of fire. Its walls are buttresses of fire. Solomon
refers to it when he says: "Her guests are in the depths of hell."
Our American communities are suffering from the gospel of Free
Loveism, which, fifteen or twenty years ago, was preached on the
platform and in some of the churches of this country. I charge upon
Free Loveism that it has blighted innumerable homes, and that it has
sent innumerable souls to ruin. Free Loveism is bestial; it is
worse--it is infernal! It has furnished this land with about one
thousand divorces annually. In one county in the State of Indiana it
furnished eleven divorces in one day before dinner. It has roused up
elopements, North, South, East, and West. You can hardly take up a
paper but you read of an elopement. As far as I can understand the
doctrine of Free Loveism it is this: That every man ought to have
somebody else's wife, and every wife somebody else's husband. They do
not like our Christian organization of society, and I wish they would
all elope, the wretches of one sex taking the wretches of the other,
and start to-morrow morning for the great Sahara Desert, until the
simoom shall sweep seven feet of sand all over them, and not one
passing caravan for the next five hundred years bring back one
miserable bone of their carcasses! | 3,138.65054 |
2023-11-16 19:09:22.6310960 | 1,328 | 6 |
Produced by Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
NINETEEN CENTURIES
OF
DRINK IN ENGLAND
_A HISTORY_
BY
RICHARD VALPY FRENCH
D.C.L., LL.D., F.S.A.
RECTOR OF LLANMARTIN AND RURAL DEAN
AUTHOR OF 'THE HISTORY OF TOASTING' ETC.
_SECOND EDITION--ENLARGED AND REVISED_
LONDON
NATIONAL TEMPERANCE PUBLICATION DEPOT
33 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
_All rights reserved_
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY LORIMER AND GILLIES,
31 ST. ANDREW SQUARE.
PREFACE.
The earlier part of this slight contribution to the literature of an
inexhaustible subject has already appeared in a series of numbers in
a London weekly journal. The best acknowledgment of the writer is due
to the Rev. ARTHUR RICHARD SHILLITO, M.A. (late Scholar of Trinity
College, Cambridge), who has from time to time during the progress of
this work most kindly furnished him with valuable notes.
INTRODUCTION.
The object of this work is to ascertain the part which Drink has played
in the individual and national life of the English people. To this
end, an inquiry is instituted into the beverages which have been in
use, the customs in connection with their use, the drinking vessels in
vogue, the various efforts made to control or prohibit the use, sale,
manufacture, or importation of strong drink, whether proceeding from
Church, or State, or both: the connection of the drink traffic with
the revenue, together with incidental notices of banquets, feasts, the
pledging of healths, and other relevant matter.
It must interest every thoughtful being to know how our national life
and national customs have come to be what they are. They have not
sprung up in a night like a mushroom. They have been forming for ages.
Each day has contributed something. The great river of social life,
ever flowing onward to the ocean of eternity, has been constantly fed
by the tributaries of necessity, appetite, fashion, fancy, vanity,
caprice, and imitation. Man is a bundle of habits and customs.
With some, it is true, life is mere routine, a round of
conventionalities; literally 'one day telleth another;' with others,
each day is a reality, has its fresh plan, is a rational item in the
account of life. To these nothing is without its meaning; there is a
definiteness, a precision, about its hours of action, of thought, of
diversion, of ministering to the bodily claims of sustenance by eating
and drinking. Around the latter, social life has fearfully encircled
itself. The world was, and still is,--
'On hospitable thoughts intent.'
The latter days are but a repetition of the former. 'As it was... so
shall it be also. They did eat, they drank.'
Social life is intimately connected with the social or festive board;
in short, with eating and drinking, because these are a necessity of
nature. Other customs and habits may be fleeting, but men must eat, men
must drink. Food ministers not only to the principle of life, but to
that of brain force also. Thought is stimulated, activity is excited,
man becomes communicable. He then seeks society and enjoys it. Thus has
social intercourse gathered round the social board. Eating and drinking
are two indispensable factors in dealing with the history of a nation's
social life. Adopting the adage by way of accommodation, 'In vino
veritas,' truth is out when wine is in, once know the entire history of
a nation's drinking, and you have important materials for gauging that
nation's social life.
For obvious reasons, a division has been adopted of the subject into
periods, in some respects artificial so far as the present inquiry
is concerned. The Romano-British period has been selected as the
_terminus a quo_. It might have been speculatively interesting to
penetrate further into the arcana of the past, to have inquired who
were the earliest inhabitants of this country? Were they aborigines,
natives of the soil, or were they colonists? Had they an independent
tribal existence, or were they originally a part of that great Asiatic
family who emigrated into and peopled Western Europe, and to whom the
Romans gave the name of Gauls?
Had such an inquiry been relevant, the question would have been of
immense importance; for drawing, as one must, considerably upon
imagination in dealing with any period not strictly historic, one must
either regard the primitive inhabitants as independent aborigines, and
accommodate their supplies to their wants, or, regarding them as an
offshoot from another nation, suppose them to have carried with them
the customs of their parent tribe, and find the sought-for habits of
the child in the ascertained habits of the parent.
But we are concerned with fact; and must therefore date from a period
when facts, however meagre and involved, are forthcoming.
A chapter of _Bibliography_ is appended for the benefit of any who
might wish to prosecute a study, of which the present effort is a mere
outline.
_A CONTRIBUTION TO THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF DRINK._
--------------------+---------------------------------------+-------
Author. | Title of Work. | Date.
--------------------+---------------------------------------+-------
Accum, F. |_Adulterations of Food_ | 1820
Ackroyd, W. |_History and Science of Drunkenness_ | 1883
Adair, R. G. |_The Question of the Times_ | 1869
Agg-Gardner, J. T. |_Compulsory Temperance_ (Fortnightly) | | 3,138.651136 |
2023-11-16 19:09:22.7320130 | 768 | 8 | ***The Project Gutenberg's Etext of Shakespeare's First Folio***
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(This file was produced from images generously made
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[Illustration: 51 Messier; 99 Messier]
THE
PLURALITY OF WORLDS.
On Nature's Alps I stand,
And see a thousand firmaments beneath!
A thousand systems, as a thousand grains!
So much a stranger, _and so late arrived_,
How shall man's curious spirit not inquire
What are the natives of this world sublime,
Of this so distant, unterrestrial sphere,
Where mortal, untranslated, never strayed?
NIGHT THOUGHTS.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY
EDWARD HITCHCOCK, D.D.,
PRESIDENT OF AMHERST COLLEGE, AND PROFESSOR OF
THEOLOGY AND GEOLOGY.
BOSTON:
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
50 WASHINGTON STREET.
1854.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by
GOULD AND LINCOLN,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of
the District of Massachusetts.
PREFACE.
Although the opinions presented in the following Essay are put forwards
without claiming for them any value beyond what they may derive from the
arguments there offered, they are not published without some fear of
giving offence. It will be a curious, but not a very wonderful event, if
it should now be deemed as blamable to doubt the existence of
inhabitants of the Planets and Stars, as, three centuries ago, it was
held heretical to teach that doctrine. Yet probably there are many who
will be willing to see the question examined by all the light which
modern science can throw upon it; and such an examination can be
undertaken to no purpose, except the view which has of late been
generally rejected have the arguments in its favor fairly stated and
candidly considered.
Though Revealed Religion contains no doctrine relative to the
inhabitants of planets and stars; and though, till within the last three
centuries, no Christian thinker deemed such a doctrine to be required,
in order to complete our view of the attributes of the Creator; yet it
is possible that at the present day, when the assumption of such
inhabitants is very generally made and assented to, many persons have so
mingled this assumption with their religious belief, that they regard it
as an essential part of Natural Religion. If any such persons find their
religious convictions interfered with, and their consolatory impressions
disturbed, by what is said in this Essay, the Author will deeply regret
to have had any share in troubling any current of pious thought
belonging to the time. But, as some excuse, it may be recollected, that
if such considerations had prevailed, this very doctrine, of the
Plurality of Worlds, would never have been publicly maintained. And if
such considerations are to have weight, it must be recollected, on the
other hand, that there are many persons to whom the assumption of an
endless multitude of Worlds appears difficult to reconcile with the
belief of that which, as the Christian Revelation teaches us, has been
done for this our World of Earth. In this conflict of religious
difficulties, on a point which rather belongs to science than to
religion, perhaps philosophical arguments may be patiently listened to,
if urged as arguments merely; and in that hope, they are here stated,
without reserve and without exaggeration.
All speculations on subjects in which Science and Religion bear upon
each other, are liable to one of the two opposite charges;--that the
speculator sets Philosophy and Religion at variance; or that he warps
Philosophy into a conformity with Religion. It is confidently hoped that
no candid reader will bring either of these charges against the present
Essay. With regard to the latter, the arguments must speak for
themselves. To the Author at least, they appear to be of no small
philosophical force; though he is quite ready to weigh carefully and
candidly any answers which may be offered to them. With regard to the
amount of agreement between our Philosophy and Religion, it may perhaps
be permitted to the Author to say, that while it appears to him that
some of his philosophical conclusions fall in very remarkably with
certain points of religious doctrine, he is well aware that Philosophy
alone can do little in providing man with the consolations, hopes,
supports, and convictions which Religion offers; and he acknowledges it
as a ground of deep gratitude to the Author of all good, that man is
not left to Philosophy for those blessings; but has a fuller assurance
of them, by a more direct communication from Him.
Perhaps, too, the Author may be allowed to say, that he has tried to
give to the book, not only a moral, but a scientific interest; by
collecting his scientific facts from the best authorities, and the most
recent discoveries. He would flatter himself, in particular, that the
view of the Nebulae and of the Solar System, which he has here given, may
be not unworthy of some attention on the part of astronomers and
observers, as an occasion of future researches in the skies.
CONTENTS
OF
THE PLURALITY OF WORLDS.
PAGE
Introduction. 9
CHAPTER I.
Astronomical Discoveries. 17
CHAPTER II.
Astronomical Objection to Religion. 33
CHAPTER III.
The Answer from the Microscope. 41
CHAPTER IV.
Further Statement of the Difficulty. 49
CHAPTER V.
Geology. 72
CHAPTER VI.
The Argument from Geology. 98
CHAPTER VII.
The Nebulae. 135
CHAPTER VIII.
The Fixed Stars. 163
CHAPTER IX.
The Planets. 192
CHAPTER X.
Theory of the Solar System. 219
CHAPTER XI.
The Argument from Design. 236
CHAPTER XII.
The Unity of the World. 275
CHAPTER XIII.
The Future. 292
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE
TO THE
AMERICAN EDITION.
It is an interesting feature in the literature of our day, that so many
minds are turning their attention to the bearings of science upon
religion. With a few honorable exceptions, Christian scholars have
regarded this as a most unpromising field, which they have left to the
tilting and gladiatorship of scepticism. But we owe it mainly to the
disclosures of geology, that the tables are beginning to be turned. For
a long time suspected of being in league with infidelity, it was treated
as an enemy, and Christians thought only of fortifying themselves
against its attacks. But they are finding out, that if this science has
been seen in the enemy's camp, it was only because of their jealousy
that it was compelled to remain there; like captives that are sometimes
pushed forwards to cover the front rank and receive the fire of their
friends. Judging from the number of works, some of them very able, that
appear almost monthly from the press, in which illustrations of
religion are drawn from geology, we may infer that this science is
beginning to be recognized by the friends of religion as an efficient
auxiliary.
"The Plurality of Worlds," now republished, is the most recent work of
this description that has fallen under our notice. We can see no reason
why an Essay of so much ability, in which the reasoning is so
dispassionate, and opponents are treated so candidly, should appear
anonymously. True, the author takes ground against some opinions widely
maintained respecting the extent of the inhabited universe, and seems to
suppose that he shall meet with little sympathy; and this may be his
reason, though in our view quite insufficient, for remaining incognito.
We think he will find that there are a secret seven thousand, who never
have bowed their understandings to a belief of many of the doctrines
which he combats, and he might reasonably calculate that his reasoning
will add seven thousand more to the number. We confess, however, that
though we have long been of this number to a certain extent, we cannot
go as far as this writer has done in his conclusions.
All the world is acquainted with Dr. Chalmers' splendid Astronomical
Discourses. Assuming, or rather supposing that he has proved, that the
universe contains a vast number of worlds peopled like our own, he
imagines the infidel to raise an objection to the mission of the Son of
God, on the ground that this world is too insignificant to receive such
an extraordinary interposition. His replies to this objection, drawn
chiefly from our ignorance, are ingenious and convincing. But the author
of the Plurality of Worlds doubts the premises on which the objection is
founded. He thinks the facts of science will not sustain the conclusion
that many of the heavenly bodies are inhabited; certainly not with moral
and intellectual beings like man. Nay, by making his appeal to geology,
he thinks the evidence strong against such an opinion. This science
shows us that this world was once certainly in a molten state, and very
probably, at a still earlier date, may have been dissipated into
self-luminous vapor, like the nebulae or the comets. Immense periods,
then, must have passed before any organic structures, such as have since
peopled the earth, could have existed. And during the vast cycles that
have elapsed since the first animals and plants appeared upon the globe,
it was not in a proper condition to have sustained any other than the
inferior races. Accordingly, it has been only a few thousand years since
man appeared.
Now, so far as astronomy has revealed the condition of other worlds,
almost all of them appear to be passing through those preparatory
changes which the earth underwent previous to man's creation. What are
the unresolvable nebulae and most of the comets also, but intensely
heated vapor and gas? What is the sun but a molten globe, or perhaps
gaseous matter condensed so as to possess almost the density of water?
The planets beyond Mars, also, (excluding the asteroids,) appear to be
in a liquid condition, but not from heat, and therefore may be composed
of water, or some fluid perhaps lighter than water; or at least be
covered by such fluid. Moreover, so great is their distance from the
sun, that his light and heat could not sustain organic beings such as
exist upon the earth. Of the inferior planets, Mercury is so near the
sun that it would be equally unfit for the residence of such beings.
Mars, Venus, and the Moon, then, appear to be the only worlds known to
us capable of sustaining a population at all analogous to that upon
earth. But of these, the Moon appears to be merely a mass of
extinguished volcanos, with neither water nor atmosphere. It has
proceeded farther in the process of refrigeration than the earth,
because it is smaller; and in its present state, is manifestly unfit for
the residence either of rational or irrational creatures. So that we are
left with only Mars and Venus in the solar system to which the common
arguments in favor of other worlds being inhabited, will apply.
But are not the fixed stars the suns of other systems? We will thank
those who think so, to read the chapter in this work that treats of the
fixed stars, and we presume they will be satisfied that at least many of
these bodies exhibit characters quite irreconcilable with such an
hypothesis. And if some are not central suns, the presumption that the
rest are, is weakened, and we must wait till a greater perfection of
instruments shall afford us some positive evidence, before we know
whether our solar system is a type of any others.
Thus far, it seems to us, our author has firm ground, both geological
and astronomical, to stand upon. But he does not stop here. He takes the
position that probably our earth may be the only body in the solar
system, nay in the universe, where an intellectual, moral and immortal
being, like man, has an existence. He makes the "earth the domestic
hearth of the solar system; adjusted between the hot and fiery haze on
one side, and the cold and watery vapor on the other: the only fit
region to be a domestic hearth, a seat of habitation." He says that "it
is quite agreeable to analogy that the solar system should have borne
but one fertile flower. And even if any number of the fixed stars were
also found to be barren flowers of the sky, we need not think the powers
of creation wasted, or frustrated, thrown away, or perverted." He does
not deny that some other worlds may be the abodes of plants and animals
such as peopled this earth during the | 3,138.849348 |
2023-11-16 19:09:23.6320240 | 2,426 | 6 |
Transcribed from the 1915 Martin Secker edition by David Price, email
[email protected]
[Picture: Book cover]
THE
COXON FUND
BY HENRY JAMES
[Picture: Decorative graphic]
* * * * *
LONDON: MARTIN SECKER
NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET ADELPHI
* * * * *
This edition first published 1915
The text follows that of the
Definitive Edition
* * * * *
I
“THEY’VE got him for life!” I said to myself that evening on my way back
to the station; but later on, alone in the compartment (from Wimbledon to
Waterloo, before the glory of the District Railway) I amended this
declaration in the light of the sense that my friends would probably
after all not enjoy a monopoly of Mr. Saltram. I won’t pretend to have
taken his vast measure on that first occasion, but I think I had achieved
a glimpse of what the privilege of his acquaintance might mean for many
persons in the way of charges accepted. He had been a great experience,
and it was this perhaps that had put me into the frame of foreseeing how
we should all, sooner or later, have the honour of dealing with him as a
whole. Whatever impression I then received of the amount of this total,
I had a full enough vision of the patience of the Mulvilles. He was to
stay all the winter: Adelaide dropped it in a tone that drew the sting
from the inevitable emphasis. These excellent people might indeed have
been content to give the circle of hospitality a diameter of six months;
but if they didn’t say he was to stay all summer as well it was only
because this was more than they ventured to hope. I remember that at
dinner that evening he wore slippers, new and predominantly purple, of
some queer carpet-stuff; but the Mulvilles were still in the stage of
supposing that he might be snatched from them by higher bidders. At a
later time they grew, poor dears, to fear no snatching; but theirs was a
fidelity which needed no help from competition to make them proud.
Wonderful indeed as, when all was said, you inevitably pronounced Frank
Saltram, it was not to be overlooked that the Kent Mulvilles were in
their way still more extraordinary: as striking an instance as could
easily be encountered of the familiar truth that remarkable men find
remarkable conveniences.
They had sent for me from Wimbledon to come out and dine, and there had
been an implication in Adelaide’s note—judged by her notes alone she
might have been thought silly—that it was a case in which something
momentous was to be determined or done. I had never known them not be in
a “state” about somebody, and I dare say I tried to be droll on this
point in accepting their invitation. On finding myself in the presence
of their latest discovery I had not at first felt irreverence droop—and,
thank heaven, I have never been absolutely deprived of that alternative
in Mr. Saltram’s company. I saw, however—I hasten to declare it—that
compared to this specimen their other phoenixes had been birds of
inconsiderable feather, and I afterwards took credit to myself for not
having even in primal bewilderments made a mistake about the essence of
the man. He had an incomparable gift; I never was blind to it—it dazzles
me still. It dazzles me perhaps even more in remembrance than in fact,
for I’m not unaware that for so rare a subject the imagination goes to
some expense, inserting a jewel here and there or giving a twist to a
plume. How the art of portraiture would rejoice in this figure if the
art of portraiture had only the canvas! Nature, in truth, had largely
rounded it, and if memory, hovering about it, sometimes holds her breath,
this is because the voice that comes back was really golden.
Though the great man was an inmate and didn’t dress, he kept dinner on
this occasion waiting, and the first words he uttered on coming into the
room were an elated announcement to Mulville that he had found out
something. Not catching the allusion and gaping doubtless a little at
his face, I privately asked Adelaide what he had found out. I shall
never forget the look she gave me as she replied: “Everything!” She
really believed it. At that moment, at any rate, he had found out that
the mercy of the Mulvilles was infinite. He had previously of course
discovered, as I had myself for that matter, that their dinners were
soignés. Let me not indeed, in saying this, neglect to declare that I
shall falsify my counterfeit if I seem to hint that there was in his
nature any ounce of calculation. He took whatever came, but he never
plotted for it, and no man who was so much of an absorbent can ever have
been so little of a parasite. He had a system of the universe, but he
had no system of sponging—that was quite hand-to-mouth. He had fine
gross easy senses, but it was not his good-natured appetite that wrought
confusion. If he had loved us for our dinners we could have paid with
our dinners, and it would have been a great economy of finer matter. I
make free in these connexions with the plural possessive because if I was
never able to do what the Mulvilles did, and people with still bigger
houses and simpler charities, I met, first and last, every demand of
reflexion, of emotion—particularly perhaps those of gratitude and of
resentment. No one, I think, paid the tribute of giving him up so often,
and if it’s rendering honour to borrow wisdom I’ve a right to talk of my
sacrifices. He yielded lessons as the sea yields fish—I lived for a
while on this diet. Sometimes it almost appeared to me that his massive
monstrous failure—if failure after all it was—had been designed for my
private recreation. He fairly pampered my curiosity; but the history of
that experience would take me too far. This is not the large canvas I
just now spoke of, and I wouldn’t have approached him with my present
hand had it been a question of all the features. Frank Saltram’s
features, for artistic purposes, are verily the anecdotes that are to be
gathered. Their name is legion, and this is only one, of which the
interest is that it concerns even more closely several other persons.
Such episodes, as one looks back, are the little dramas that made up the
innumerable facets of the big drama—which is yet to be reported.
II
IT is furthermore remarkable that though the two stories are distinct—my
own, as it were, and this other—they equally began, in a manner, the
first night of my acquaintance with Frank Saltram, the night I came back
from Wimbledon so agitated with a new sense of life that, in London, for
the very thrill of it, I could only walk home. Walking and swinging my
stick, I overtook, at Buckingham Gate, George Gravener, and George
Gravener’s story may be said to have begun with my making him, as our
paths lay together, come home with me for a talk. I duly remember, let
me parenthesise, that it was still more that of another person, and also
that several years were to elapse before it was to extend to a second
chapter. I had much to say to him, none the less, about my visit to the
Mulvilles, whom he more indifferently knew, and I was at any rate so
amusing that for long afterwards he never encountered me without asking
for news of the old man of the sea. I hadn’t said Mr. Saltram was old,
and it was to be seen that he was of an age to outweather George
Gravener. I had at that time a lodging in Ebury Street, and Gravener was
staying at his brother’s empty house in Eaton Square. At Cambridge, five
years before, even in our devastating set, his intellectual power had
seemed to me almost awful. Some one had once asked me privately, with
blanched cheeks, what it was then that after all such a mind as that left
standing. “It leaves itself!” I could recollect devoutly replying. I
could smile at present for this remembrance, since before we got to Ebury
Street I was struck with the fact that, save in the sense of being well
set up on his legs, George Gravener had actually ceased to tower. The
universe he laid low had somehow bloomed again—the usual eminences were
visible. I wondered whether he had lost his humour, or only, dreadful
thought, had never had any—not even when I had fancied him most
Aristophanesque. What was the need of appealing to laughter, however, I
could enviously enquire, where you might appeal so confidently to
measurement? Mr. Saltram’s queer figure, his thick nose and hanging lip,
were fresh to me: in the light of my old friend’s fine cold symmetry they
presented mere success in amusing as the refuge of conscious ugliness.
Already, at hungry twenty-six, Gravener looked as blank and parliamentary
as if he were fifty and popular. In my scrap of a residence—he had a
worldling’s eye for its futile conveniences, but never a comrade’s joke—I
sounded Frank Saltram in his ears; a circumstance I mention in order to
note that even then I was surprised at his impatience of my enlivenment.
As he had never before heard of the personage it took indeed the form of
impatience of the preposterous Mulvilles, his relation to whom, like
mine, had had its origin in an early, a childish intimacy with the young
Adelaide, the fruit of multiplied ties in the previous generation. When
she married Kent Mulville, who was older than Gravener and I and much
more amiable, I gained a friend, but Gravener practically lost one. We
reacted in different ways from the form taken by what he called their
deplorable social action—the form (the term was also his) of nasty
second-rate gush. I may have held in my ‘for intérieur’ that the good
people at Wimbledon were beautiful fools, but when he sniffed at them I
couldn’t help taking the opposite line, for I already felt that even
should we happen to agree it would always be for reasons that differed.
It came home to me that he was admirably British as, without so much as a
sociable sneer at my bookbinder, he turned away from the serried rows of
my little French library.
“Of course I’ve never seen the fellow, but it’s clear enough he’s a
| 3,139.652064 |
2023-11-16 19:09:23.6320300 | 3,103 | 9 | LITERATURE***
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RUSSIA
ITS PEOPLE AND ITS LITERATURE
BY
EMILIA PARDO BAZAN
Translated from the Spanish
By FANNY HALE GARDINER
CHICAGO
A.C. McCLURG & CO.
1901
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
Emilia Pardo Bazan, the author of the following critical survey of
Russian literature, is a Spanish woman of well-known literary
attainments as well as wealth and position. Her life has been spent in
association with men of mark, both during frequent sojourns at Madrid
and at home in Galicia, "the Switzerland of Spain," from which province
her father was a deputy to Cortes.
Books and libraries were almost her only pleasures in childhood, as she
was allowed few companions, and she says she could never apply herself
to music. By the time she was fourteen she had read widely in history,
sciences, poetry, and fiction, excepting the works of the French
romanticists, Dumas, George Sand, and Victor Hugo, which were forbidden
fruit and were finally obtained and enjoyed as such. At sixteen she
married and went to live in Madrid, where, amid the gayeties of the
capital, her love for literature suffered a long eclipse.
Her father was obliged, for political reasons, to leave the country
after the abdication of Amadeus, and she accompanied him in a long and
to her profitable period of wandering, during which she learned French,
English, and Italian, in order to read the literatures of those tongues.
She also plunged deep into German philosophy, at first out of curiosity,
because it was then in vogue; but she confesses a debt of gratitude to
it nevertheless.
While she was thus absorbed in foreign tongues and literatures, she
remained almost entirely ignorant of the new movement in her own land,
led by Valera, Galdos, and Alarcon. The prostration which characterized
the reign of Isabella II. had been followed by a rejuvenation born of
the Revolution of 1868. When this new literature was at last brought to
her notice, she read it with delighted surprise, and was immediately
struck by something resembling the spirit of Cervantes, Hurtado, and
other Spanish writers of old renown. Inspired by the possibility of this
heredity, she resolved to try novel-writing herself,--a thought which
had never occurred to her when her idea of the novel had been bounded by
the romantic limitations of Victor Hugo and his suite. But if the novel
might consist of descriptions of places and customs familiar to us, and
studies of the people we see about us, then she would dare attempt it.
As yet, however, no one talked of realism or naturalism in Spain; the
tendency of Spanish writers was rather toward a restoration of elegant
Castilian, and her own first novel followed this line, although
evidently inspired by the breath of realism as far as she was then aware
of it. The methods and objects of the French realists became fully
manifest to her shortly afterward; for, being in poor health, she went
to Vichy, where in hours of enforced leisure she read for the first time
Balzac, Flaubert, Goncourt, and Daudet. The result led her to see the
importance of their aims and the force of their art, to which she added
the idea that each country should cultivate its own tradition while
following the modern methods. These convictions she embodied first in a
prologue to her second novel, "A Wedding Journey," and then in a series
of articles published in the "Epoca" at Madrid, and afterward in Paris;
these she avers were the first echoes in Spain of the French realist
movement.
All of her novels have been influenced by the school of art to which she
has devoted her attention and criticism, and her study of which has well
qualified her for the essays contained in this volume. This work on
Russian literature was published in 1887, but prior to its appearance
in print the Senora de Bazan was invited to read selections from it
before the Ateneo de Madrid,--an honor never before extended to a woman,
I believe.
Few Spanish women are accustomed to speaking in public, and she thus
describes her own first attempt in 1885, when, during the festivities
attending the opening of the first railway between Madrid and Coruna,
the capital of her native province, she was asked to address a large
audience invited to honor the memory of a local poet:--
"Fearful of attempting so unusual a performance, as well as
doubtful of the ability to make my voice heard in a large
theatre, I took advantage of the presence of my friend
Emilio Castelar to read to him my discourse and confide to
him my fears. On the eve of the performance, Castelar,
ensconced in an arm-chair in my library, puzzled his brains
over the questions whether I should read standing or
sitting, whether I should hold my papers in my hand or no,
and having an artist's eye to the scenic effect, I think he
would have liked to suggest that I pose before the mirror!
But I was less troubled about my attitude than by the
knowledge that Castelar was to speak also, and before me,
which would hardly predispose my audience in my favor....
The theatre was crowded to suffocation, but I found that
this rather animated than terrified me. I rose to read (for
it was finally decided that I should stand), and I cannot
tell how thin and hard and unsympathetic my voice sounded in
the silence. My throat choked with emotion; but I was
scarcely through the first paragraph when I heard at my
right hand the voice of Castelar, low and earnest, saying
over and over again, 'Very good, very good! That is the
tone! So, so! 'I breathed more freely, speaking became
easier to me; and my audience, far from becoming impatient,
gave me an attention and applause doubly grateful to one
whose only hope had been to avoid a fiasco. Castelar greeted
me at the close with a warm hand-grasp and beaming eyes,
saying, 'We ought to be well satisfied, Emilia; we have
achieved a notable and brilliant success; let us be happy,
then!'"
Probably the Senora de Bazan learned her lesson well, and had no need of
the friendly admonitions of Castelar when she came to address the
distinguished audience at the Ateneo, for she is said to have "looked
very much at ease," and to have been very well received, but a good deal
criticised afterward, being the first Spanish woman who ever dared to
read in the Ateneo.
Turning from the authoress to the work, I will only add that I hope the
American reader may find it to be what it seemed to me as I read it in
Spanish,--an epitome of a vast and elaborate subject, and a guide to a
clear path through this maze which without a guide can hardly be clear
to any but a profound student of belles-lettres; for classicism,
romanticism, and realism are technical terms, and the purpose of the
modern novel is only just beginning to be understood by even fairly
intelligent readers. In the belief that the interest awakened by Russian
literature is not ephemeral, and that this great, young, and original
people has come upon the world's stage with a work to perform before the
world's eye, I have translated this careful, critical, synthetical study
of the Russian people and literature for the benefit of my intelligent
countrymen.
F.H.G.
Chicago, March, 1890.
CONTENTS.
Book I.
THE EVOLUTION OF RUSSIA.
I. Scope and Purpose of the Present Essay
II. The Russian Country
III. The Russian Race
IV. Russian History
V. The Russian Autocracy
VI. The Agrarian Communes
VII. Social Classes in Russia
VIII. Russian Serfdom
Book II.
RUSSIAN NIHILISM AND ITS LITERATURE.
I. The Word "Nihilism"
II. Origin of the Intellectual Revolution
III. Woman and the Family
IV. Going to the People
V. Herzen and the Nihilist Novel
VI. The Reign of Terror
VII. The Police and the Censor
Book III.
RISE OF THE RUSSIAN NOVEL.
I. The Beginnings of Russian Literature
II. Russian Romanticism.--The Lyric Poets
III. Russian Realism: Gogol, its Founder
Book IV.
MODERN RUSSIAN REALISM.
I. Turguenief, Poet and Artist
II. Gontcharof and Oblomovism
III. Dostoiewsky, Psychologist and Visionary
IV. Tolstoi, Nihilist and Mystic
V. French Realism and Russian Realism
Book I.
THE EVOLUTION OF RUSSIA.
I.
Scope And Purpose of the Present Essay.
The idea of writing something about Russia, the Russian novel, and
Russian social conditions (all of which bear an intimate relationship to
one another), occurred to me during a sojourn in Paris, where I was
struck with the popularity and success achieved by the Russian authors,
and especially the novelists. I remember that it was in the month of
March, 1885, that the Russian novel "Crime and Punishment," by
Dostoiewsky, fell into my hands and left on my mind a deep impression.
Circumstances prevented my following up at that time my idea of literary
work on the subject; but the next winter I had nothing more important to
do than to make my projected excursion into this new realm.
My interest was quickened by all the reports I read of those who had
done the same. They all declared that one branch of Russian literature,
that which flourishes to-day in every part of Europe, namely, the novel,
has no rival in any other nation, and that the so much discussed
tendency to the pre-eminence of truth in art, variously called realism,
naturalism, etc., has existed in the Russian novel ever since the
Romantic period, a full quarter of a century earlier than in France. I
saw also that the more refined and select portion of the Parisian
public, that part which boasts an educated and exacting taste, bought
and devoured the works of Turguenief, Tolstoi, and Dostoiewsky with as
much eagerness as those of Zola, Goncourt, and Daudet; and it was
useless to ascribe this universal eagerness merely to a conspiracy
intended to produce jealousy and humiliation among the masters and
leaders of naturalism or realism in France, even though I may be aware
that such a conspiracy tacitly exists, as well as a certain amount of
involuntary jealousy, which, in fact, even the most illustrious artist
is prone to display.
I do not ignore the objections that might be urged against going to
foreign lands in search of novelties, and I should decline to face them
if Russian literature were but one of the many caprices of the exhausted
Parisian imagination. I know very well that the French capital is a city
of novelties, hungry for extravagances which may entertain for a moment
and appease its yawning weariness, and that to this necessity for
diversion the _decadent_ school (which has lately had such a revival,
and claims the aberrations of the Spanish Gongora as its master), though
aided by some talent and some technical skill, owes the favor it enjoys.
Some years ago I attended a concert in Paris, where I heard an orchestra
of Bohemians, or Zingaras, itinerant musicians from Hungary. I was
asked my opinion of them at the close, and I frankly confessed that the
orchestra sounded to me very like a jangling of mule-bells or a
caterwauling; they were only a little more tolerable than a street band
of my own country (Spain), and only because these were gypsies were
their scrapings to be endured at all. Literary oddities are puffed and
made much of by certain Parisian critics very much as the Bohemian
musicians were, as, for example, the Japanese novel "The Loyal Ronins,"
and certain romantic sketches of North American origin.
It is but just, nevertheless, to acknowledge that in France the mania
for the exotic has a laudable aim and obeys an instinct of equity. To
know everything, to call nothing outlandish, to accord the highest right
of human citizenship, the right of creating their own art and of
sacrificing according to their own rites and customs on the altar sacred
to Beauty, not only to the great nations, but to the decayed and obscure
ones,--this surely is a generous act on the part of a people endowed
with directive energies; the more so as, in order to do this, the French
have to overcome a certain petulant vanity which naturally leads them to
consider themselves not merely the first but the only people.
But confining myself now to Russia, I do not deny that to my curiosity
there were added certain doubts as to the value of her literary
treasures. During my investigations, however, I have discovered that,
apart from the intrinsic merit of her famous authors, her literature
must attract our attention because of its intimate connections with
social, political, and historical problems which are occupying the mind
of Europe to-day, and are outcomes of the great revolutionary movement,
unless it would be more correct to say that they inspired and directed
that movement.
I take this opportunity to confess frankly that I lack one almost
indispensable qualification for my task,--the knowledge of the Russian
language. It would have been easy for me, | 3,139.65207 |
2023-11-16 19:09:23.6380640 | 4,388 | 6 |
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TUEN, SLAVE AND EMPRESS
by
KATHLEEN GRAY NELSON
Illustrations by William M. Cary
[Illustration: TUEN AT WORK ON THE TUNIC.--_Page 65_]
New York
Copyright by
E. P. Dutton & Company
31 West Twenty-Third Street
1898
[Illustration: _Frontispiece._ THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT. Page 190.]
PREFACE.
This story is founded upon facts in the life of the Empress-dowager of
China, the mother of the present Emperor.
She was sold as a slave by her father to a renowned government
official, who after a few years adopted her as his daughter, and
afterwards presented her to the Emperor.
The Emperor was altogether charmed with the gift. In a few years the
slave girl became the wife of the Emperor, second in rank only to the
Empress. From this time she was a power at the Imperial Court. Her
administrative ability in governmental affairs became invaluable to the
Emperor.
After the death of the Empress, and the death of the Emperor and eldest
son, she became Empress-dowager of China, and reigned as regent during
the minority of her son, who is the present Emperor of China, now about
twenty-four years of age.
Bishop Galloway tells us this wonderful woman's sixtieth birthday,
celebrated last year, "was to have been the greatest event in Chinese
history for a century or more." The war, however, prevented this
display. He says, too: "It is significant that in this country, in which
women are at a discount, are secluded and kept in ignorance, are
protested against at birth, and regarded as a calamity in youth, the
ruling spirit in all national affairs is a woman."
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
NIU TSANG AND FAMILY 2
THE VICEROY AND NIU TSANG 24
TUEN AND WANG 43
TUEN AT WORK ON THE TUNIC (_on title-page_) 65
"I WOULD LIKE TO LEARN TO READ" 78
THE SAIL UP THE RIVER 159
THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT (_frontispiece_) 190
TUEN, SLAVE AND EMPRESS.
CHAPTER I.
The sun had set in the land where the dragon reigns, and darkness and
silence and rest and sleep, the ministers of the night, waited to come
to their own. But their presence was not needed in the eastern portion
of the province of Hunan, for a wonderful stillness hung over all the
barren landscape, and there was no sign of life. On the banks of the
streams the patient buffalo no longer went his ceaseless rounds, working
the pumps that sent water over the thirsty earth; the shrill cries of
the boatmen that were wont to echo on the river were hushed; not even a
bird crossed the quiet sky; and where the waving rice-fields had once
stretched out proud and green under the summer sun, was now but a lonely
waste that gave no hope of harvest, for man and beast had either
perished or fled. The great Tai-ping rebellion had stirred this peaceful
country to its very centre, and war and war's grim follower, famine, had
swept through this once fertile province, and naught was left to tell of
what had been, save a few scattered ruins.
[Illustration: NIU TSANG AND FAMILY. Page 2.]
Suddenly, against the purplish shadows of the distant mountains, a
little group could be seen moving slowly along, the only living things
in all this vast solitude. On they came over the parched levels, but the
man who was leading the way walked with bowed head, as one that saw not,
but only went forward because he must. He was small in stature, and thin
and lithe, while his complexion showed through its dark, the pallor of
the student. His face was of the Oriental type peculiar to the Chinese
Empire, and his carefully braided cue also indicated his nationality. He
had dark, sloping eyes that you might have thought sleepy if you had not
seen them light up as he talked, his forehead was low and broad, his
mouth large, and most amiable in its expression, and when the long
sleeves of his tunic fell back, they disclosed soft, delicate hands,
unused to toil. His costume consisted of an outer tunic of worn and
faded silk, girded at the waist with a sash, from which hung a bag
containing flint and steel for lighting his pipe, a soiled pouch that
had once held tobacco, but was now empty, another bag for his pipe, and
a satin case shaped like the sheath for a short sword, from which
protruded nothing more formidable, however, than the handle of a fan.
His loose pantaloons, dust-stained and frayed, were met below the knees
by cloth stockings, once white, but now dyed with mud, and his shoes of
embroidered felt, the toes of which curled up in a curious fashion,
showed many gaping holes. Upon his head he wore a cone-shaped hat of
bamboo, the peak at the top adorned with a blue button from which fell a
blue silk fringe, and his tunic being cut low at the neck and buttoned
diagonally across his breast, left exposed his slender bronzed neck.
He was followed by a woman whose dress was similar to his own, and also
much the worse for wear, who led by the hand a little boy about four
years old, while on her other side was a daughter, now almost as tall as
her mother.
But as the father walked slowly, even majestically, at the head of his
little family, bearing on a pole thrown across his shoulders, all his
worldly goods, there was an independence in his carriage, a pride in his
mien, that told of better days not yet forgotten, and made the evident
poverty of his appearance seem of but little moment.
A learned man once advanced the theory that in the olden days the
children of Abraham and Keturah, driven forth by unkind kinsmen,
wandered on until they reached the flowery Kingdom, and there the family
of the old patriarch multiplied as the stars of heaven, as the sand upon
the sea-shore, and became a mighty nation. But the centuries came and
went in silence, and man kept no record of their flight; and of the
early settlers of this, one of the first countries inhabited by human
beings, history can tell us nothing. The sons of Han have lived their
lives calmly, borrowing nothing from other nations, asking nothing of
the outside world, caring naught for what lay beyond their vast borders,
and change has been an unknown word in their shut-in kingdom. Progress,
the daring child of modern times, has not found entrance there, and the
Niu Tsang of to-day, leading his family through the forsaken country,
was but a repetition of his long dead forefathers. That was the reason
why, even now, as he toiled wearily along, his mind left the scenes of
the present, so full of sorrow and suffering, and dwelt in placid
contemplation on the events of the past. He was musing on the wisdom of
the sages, on the maxims of Confucius, when, chancing to raise his head,
he saw in the distance the dim outlines of a building.
"It is the temple of Buddha," he cried, joyfully, turning to his wife.
"There we shall find food and shelter for the night."
She made a gesture of assent, but her pale lips framed no word, and they
pressed hurriedly forward. When they came nearer the temple, he noticed
the traces of many footsteps, as if a great throng had entered there,
but the same mysterious silence reigned everywhere. There was no murmur
of voices raised in chants of praise, no priests waiting at the
entrance, no din of gongs and drums, not even a sound from the
consecrated animals that had once waited within the enclosure in
pampered stupidity for release from their beastly forms. Bewildered,
oppressed by a nameless fear, Niu Tsang ran past the open portal, and
there he stopped, dismayed at the scene before him, for the rebels,
drunk with success, had in their wild zeal turned against the dumb gods
of the land, and wrought havoc in the temple. Gilded and painted
fragments of helpless idols strewed the floor, the great stone altar,
carved in writhing dragons, had been broken into many pieces, and
incense vases of priceless porcelain, candlesticks of richest cloisonne,
tables of carved ebony, stands of polished jade, and rosaries torn from
the hands of frightened priests, had been ruthlessly destroyed, and now
lay in great heaps of rubbish. The guardians of the temple had fled
before the wrath of the rebel reformers, and the dead gods were left
alone in their temple. Niu Tsang made his way sadly through these ruins
of the once beautiful structure, and came at last into the dismantled
court where his wife and children were already awaiting him. She had
taken the boy in her lap and was tenderly stroking his little wan face,
while the girl, her eyes filled with unshed tears, squatted beside her.
A head of Buddha that had been broken off and rudely tossed into the
court, lay near by, watching them with the same queer smile it had once
bestowed upon its worshippers. The father made a gesture of despair.
"All is ruin--all is lost--and desolation is spread over the land," he
said despairingly. "Nothing is left here."
The boy in his mother's lap moved restlessly about and uttered a low
moan.
"Is there no rice, father?" he cried plaintively.
"None, my son," Niu answered with a sigh. "I have searched the temple,
only to find it bare. You must wait."
His wife's mouth trembled pitifully as she listened, and noticing this
he said to her:
"We must endure as best we can. Night now overshadows us, and there is
no human habitation in sight. We must rest here until the dawn and then
hurry on, hoping ere the day is done to find food for all. If our
strength fail we can but die," he added in a lower tone, as if speaking
to himself, but the woman heard it and looked up.
"I am very tired now," she murmured, "and the pangs of hunger torment
me. All that I had to eat to-day I gave to the children."
"I know," Niu said. "I too am hungry, but there is no help for it." So
saying he sat down; but the girl, despite her weariness, built a
pedestal out of the fragments around her, upon which she gently placed
the head of her dishonored Buddha, for she was a most devout little
heathen, and then she crept quietly back into the temple.
CHAPTER II.
As Niu Tsang sat with his head bowed upon his breast, lost in painful
thoughts, and the woman closed her eyes and leaned against the temple
wall that she might better rest, a shadow darkened the entrance, and
caused them to spring hastily to their feet. In place of fierce
soldiers, however, intent upon pillage or even murder, Niu to his
surprise saw a solitary stranger, without weapon of any kind, eyeing
them curiously. The newcomer even smiled at their evident dismay, and
coming forward saluted them after the fashion of the country, bowing and
gravely shaking his own hands.
"Be not alarmed, my friend," he said reassuringly to Niu. "I am like
yourself, a belated traveller, and even now my boat waits for me at the
river bank. But as I had never passed this way before, though often had
I heard of the splendid temple of many gods, I seized this opportunity
to visit it."
As he spoke he looked around him, while a peculiar, half-quizzical
expression lurked at the corners of his mouth.
"Behold it," Niu Tsang answered, making an expressive gesture. Then he
went on passionately, his anger increasing at every word:
"The barbarians from beyond the sea could not have been more wicked than
these rebels who have dared the vengeance of the gods. Traitors that
they are! May none be left to bury them, no, not one to offer incense to
their spirits. May they perish miserably, their graves forever unknown,
their ghosts forever homeless."
"The ruin is indeed great," the stranger said calmly. "Were the gods
deaf to their prayers, that they should thus destroy them?"
"I know not," Niu said shortly, seating himself.
Seeing that his companion did not intend to speak further, but was
eyeing him suspiciously, the newcomer continued:
"You seem travel-stained and weary, honored sir, as one who had
journeyed from afar. May I ask whither you are bound, that you traverse
this bleak plain?"
"To Lu Chang, foreign brother," was the courteous though terse reply.
At the title "foreign brother" the stranger started perceptibly, but he
looked fearlessly at Niu from behind the great blue goggles that
concealed his eyes, and went on in the same even tone:
"You have a long and tiresome pilgrimage, and the way is dangerous, for
robbers and stray soldiers lurk around after the army has passed. It
will therefore behoove you to be careful, lest you and yours fall by
the wayside," and he glanced toward the woman, who stood apart, her back
turned to them.
"When Ten Wang[1] has decreed a man to die at the third watch, no power
will detain him until the fifth," Niu quoted, sagely.
"You have spoken wisely, my brother," the stranger answered, "yet it
were better not to tempt destiny. And now, the night comes on, and I
must hasten lest I run into the very dangers of which I warn you."
Then, as if attracted by a certain pinched look on the face of the child
that slept on the ground near where he stood, he said, quickly:
"I have provisions, and to spare, in this hamper," pointing to a large
basket that he had set down when he first saw Niu, "and in the morning I
will reach my destination. Will you not accept it, and thereby lighten
a traveller's load?"
At his words the woman turned toward him with an exclamation of delight,
and her husband's face lost the look it had worn during the interview,
as he now attempted to speak. The stranger did not wait for the grateful
thanks that rushed to their lips, but went hastily into the temple, and
there he found a girl with patient, solemn eyes, seated among the ruins
of her gods. As he entered, he saw that with her ragged dress she was
wiping the dirt from the scarred and grimacing goddess of mercy, and he
stopped to watch her. Frightened at his appearance, she arose and stood
waiting for him to pass, but he said sadly:
"Your gods, my child, are but wood and stone, and cannot hear your
prayers. The one true God lives in Heaven, watching over you, and loving
you, and there is no other God but Him."
Awed by his strange words, yet understanding them not, she gazed at him
in silence, and, moved by a sudden impulse, he laid his hand tenderly on
her head.
"May the God of love and peace bring you at last to His kingdom," he
murmured, and was gone.
Perhaps, had he known that this quiet girl was destined to be one of the
great women of the world, at whose slightest word, millions, even
hundreds of millions, of loyal subjects would bow the knee, he would
have spoken longer with her, but this he never knew.
It was not until they had eaten with all the zest that hunger gives of
the provisions left them by the stranger, that the girl raised her eyes
to the calm blue heavens above her, now dotted with countless glowing
stars, and said, abruptly:
"Father, the stranger told me, in the temple, about one true God, who is
alive, and who lives up there. What did he mean? I never heard before
of Him, and I have worshipped many gods."
Niu Tsang nodded quickly at this confirmation of his suspicions.
"It is as I thought," he said. "Although that traveller wore the
honorable costume of our country, and spoke to us in our own tongue, yet
methinks he was not one of us, but a barbarian from beyond the sea."
The girl shuddered.
"And he talked to me!" she cried in horror. "I never dreamed that he was
a foreign devil."
"Be he what he may, he was most kind to us," her father reminded her,
"for his food was not polluted."
"But what god is this that he worships?" she asked.
"He spoke of the Jesus doctrine, of which, perhaps, he is a teacher,"
her father answered in the tone of one who had finished the
conversation.
"But who is Jesus?" the curious child persisted.
"He is the god of barbarians and devils, Tuen," her father said sternly.
"He is not so wise as Confucius, nor so great as Buddha, else you would
have heard of him long ago."
"And yet he called him a God of Love," she went on musingly, not heeding
her father's frown. "Is there a God of Love?"
"No," Niu Tsang said shortly. "All the gods hate the children of men,
but because we offer prayers and incense they sometimes listen to us."
Tuen said nothing more, but that night from her bed in the open court
she looked up at the silver river[2] winding among the golden stars, and
wondered what god it was who lived so far away you could only dimly see
his lamps shining through the blue, and she felt she would like to know
if all the gods really hated her, and if so, what she had done to make
them angry. Thus musing she fell asleep, and in the many strange events
that soon crowded into her little life and filled it to overflowing, she
forgot all about the stranger and his God.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The god of fate.
[2] Chinese name for Milky Way.
CHAPTER III.
"Diseases may be cured, but not destiny."
_Chinese Proverb._
Many conflicting emotions have torn the heart of poor little Tuen since
she sat among the fallen idols in the lonely temple, and she has learned
that life may be a hateful thing, even to the young. After long weeks of
privation and hopelessness, after the bitter disappointment of finding
that even in the great city of Lu Chang food and clothing were not for
those who could not buy, she realized suddenly with that exaltation of
martyrdom that comes to strong women in all climes and in all ages, that
she must be the sacrifice offered for the happiness of her dear ones.
So one day she went to the despairing Niu Tsang and said quietly:
"Father, do not longer grieve. I have found a way out of all our
trouble."
He looked at her in am | 3,139.658104 |
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ON THE INCUBUS, OR NIGHT-MARE.
J. M'Creery, Printer,
Black Horse Court, London.
A TREATISE ON THE INCUBUS,
OR
Night-Mare,
DISTURBED SLEEP, TERRIFIC DREAMS,
AND NOCTURNAL VISIONS.
WITH THE MEANS OF REMOVING THESE
DISTRESSING COMPLAINTS.
BY JOHN WALLER,
SURGEON OF THE ROYAL NAVY.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR E. COX AND SON, ST. THOMAS'S STREET,
BOROUGH.
1816.
INTRODUCTION.
The enjoyment of comfortable and undisturbed sleep, is certainly to be
ranked amongst the greatest blessings which heaven has bestowed on
mankind; and it may be considered as one of the best criterions of a
person enjoying perfect health. On the contrary, any disturbance which
occurs in the enjoyment of this invaluable blessing, may be considered a
decisive proof of some derangement existing in the animal economy, and a
consequent deviation from the standard of health. Indeed it is astonishing
how slight a deviation from that standard may be perceived, by paying
attention to the circumstance of our sleep and dreams. This may be more
clearly demonstrated by attending carefully to the state of persons on the
approach of any epidemic fever or other epidemic disease, and indeed of
every kind of fever, as I have repeatedly witnessed; when no other signs
of a deviation from health could be perceived, the patient has complained
of disturbed rest and frightful dreams, with Night-Mare, &c. Hence the
dread which the vulgar, in all ages and countries, have had of what they
call _bad_ dreams; experience having proved to them, that persons,
pre | 3,139.748712 |
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Transcribed from the third edition by Peter Barnes.
MINIMUM GAUGE RAILWAYS:
THEIR APPLICATION, CONSTRUCTION,
AND WORKING.
* * * * *
Being an account of the origin and evolution of the 15 in. gauge line
at Duffield Bank, near Derby; also of the installation of a
similar line at Eaton Hall, near Chester; together with
various notes on the uses of such Railways, and
on the results of some experimental
investigations relating thereto.
* * * * *
BY
Sir ARTHUR PERCIVAL HEYWOOD, Bart., M.A.
* * * * *
_THIRD EDITION_.
_PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION_.
* * * * *
Contents.
PAGE
PREFACE 5, 6
I.
INTRODUCTION 7
II
OBJECTS OF THE 15 IN. GAUGE 9
III
CONSTRUCTION OF THE DUFFIELD BANK LINE 11
IV
DETAILS OF THE EATON HALL LINE 15
V
LOCOMOTIVES 25
VI
WAGONS AND CARS 32
VII
THE DUFFIELD BANK WORKSHOPS 36
VIII
SCIENTIFIC CONSIDERATIONS 38
IX
REMARKS ON NARROW GAUGE RAILWAYS 42
X
APPENDIX 46
Preface to Second Edition.
IN the year 1881, when the Royal Agricultural Society held their show in
Derby, it was represented to me that, as many of the members were
interested in the cheap transport offered by narrow gauge railways, it
would be appreciated if I opened my experimental line at Duffield to
inspection during the week.
In order to facilitate the comprehension of the objects of this little
railway, the late Secretary of the Society suggested that I should draw
up a short descriptive pamphlet to place in the hands of visitors. This
was done with success and much saving of verbal explanation.
Thirteen years later, having added considerably to the rolling stock and
improved many of the details, I decided to give a three days exhibition,
and to issue a general invitation to all interested in the promotion of
such lines, at the same time taking the opportunity to revise and amplify
the first edition of this pamphlet.
A. P. H.
_August_, _1894_.
Preface to Third Edition.
SOME four years have elapsed since the second edition of this pamphlet
was exhausted. During this period I have constructed and equipped at
Eaton Hall, Cheshire, a line which has been in regular use since May,
1896, exactly similar to my own at Duffield. This railway having been
made wholly for practical purposes and on strictly economic principles, I
am in a position to present more reliable data, both in regard to cost
and working, than I could obtain from my own experimental line, which has
been continually altered and only irregularly worked.
I desire to take this opportunity of expressing my thanks to the Duke of
Westminster for the free hand accorded me in regard to the arrangement of
all details of the Eaton Railway; a liberty which has resulted in a
symmetrical and entirely successful carrying out of the work.
What I am now able to advance will, I trust, amply demonstrate the really
solid advantages which, under suitable conditions, may be reaped from the
installation of little railways of the kind described.
A. P. H.
_July_, _1898_.
I.
INTRODUCTION.
AT the outset I must offer an apology for making use, throughout this
pamphlet, of the first person. I do so partly for convenience of
expression, and partly because almost all that I have to advance is
derived from my own experience. In doing so I am far from desiring to
undervalue the work of others in the same direction. I have, however,
little hesitation in saying that, with the exception of the late Mr.
Charles Spooner, the able Engineer of the Festiniog Railway, most of
those, so far as I know, who are responsible for the design of plant for
these small lines have been manufacturers whose productions, though often
of fair workmanship, are clearly indicative of a failure to grasp many of
the leading principles involved. This shortcoming is the natural result
of a want of sufficient time for the consideration of details, and a
consequent tendency to imitate established customs in regard to railway
work which by no means apply with equal advantage to very narrow gauges,
where the conditions involved are wholly different. This is especially
true of small locomotive building, the specimens of which evidence in
their design not only ignorance on important points, but also a
deplorable absence of the sense of well-balanced proportion.
I venture to think that, in the twenty-five years during which I have
devoted much of my time to the subject, I have succeeded in bringing to
considerable perfection both permanent way and rolling stock suitable for
these diminutive lines, and more especially the locomotives, which are
probably, for their weight, the most powerful and flexible ever built to
work by simple adhesion. Whether this conceit be well founded or no I
leave to the judgment of those who may be at the pains to acquaint
themselves with the details and result of my work, which has been
undertaken wholly as a labour of love with the sole desire to promote
improvement in what I believe to be an entirely special branch of
engineering. I have never wasted my money on patents, and, so long as my
designs are not imitated in a bungling manner, I am glad to see them made
use of by anyone to whom they may be of service.
It must be understood that I do not here attempt to enter upon the
comparative merits of narrow gauge railways generally, but merely to give
particulars of what has come within my own experience. To facilitate a
comprehension of the conditions under which I have worked, it will be
well to explain that I make no pretension to be considered a professional
engineer, and that I speak rather as a self-taught mechanic and surveyor.
My father possessed a beautiful Holtzappfel lathe, with elaborate tools
for ornamental turning in wood and metal. As a boy of seven or eight I
can recall watching him as he worked. At ten years old I was promoted to
stand on a box and turn candlesticks, but, a year or two later, a few
lessons—the only direct practical instruction I ever had—from an old
fishing-rod maker in chasing metal screw-threads begot in me an ardent
desire to construct machinery, particularly anything pertaining to
railways, for which from my childhood I had an absorbing craze.
By my father’s kindness I, by-and-bye, fitted up a workshop in which the
tools were driven by a half-horse steam engine; and at eighteen had
completed my first locomotive, weighing 56 lbs., which, with a dozen or
so of small wagons, made a fine show on some 40 yards of brass-railed
permanent way of 4 in. gauge. Locomotive driving was my hobby when I went
up to Cambridge, and many were the tips that I learned in my illicit
journeyings on the footplate. The new degree of “Applied Science” had
just made its appearance, in which, in 1871, I had the doubtful credit of
appearing alone in the first class. Doubtful, because the papers were
absurdly simple, and the examiners hardly educated beyond the bare
theories of the mechanical processes; for it was long anterior to the
days of Professor Stuart and his engineering laboratory, where,
by-the-bye, I once remember seeing the “demonstrator” supervising the
reduction of a 4 in. shaft on a stout 9 or 10 in. lathe by a young turner
whose nervous and thread-like shavings would have ensured his speedy
dismissal from any commercial machine-shop.
When I settled at Duffield in 1872, I at once began to put into practice
the views I had formed in regard to the possibility of advantageously
superseding horse traction, in cases where a traffic, though heavy, was
wholly insufficient to justify a more costly railway, by a line of the
narrowest and consequently the cheapest gauge compatible with safety. It
is to a setting forth of the results of my experiments during the years
that have since elapsed, that the following pages are devoted. My claim
to a hearing is chiefly based upon having always been my own draughtsman,
and, for my first two larger locomotives, also moulder, machinist, and
fitter. Owing to the increasing number of experiments, and to other calls
upon my time, assistance eventually became necessary, and, though I am
still conceited enough to keep the more delicate manipulations in my own
hands, so far as I can find time to execute them, it has gradually come
about that I have seven or eight artisans in the little workshops.
Practical acquaintance with every detail both in survey, design, and
construction of narrow-gauge railways has given me something of a pull
over the professional engineer. Thus it happens that, without the credit
of any exceptional ability, I have had advantages that fall to few of
acquiring information which I desire to lay before those who are
interested in the rapid and economical transport of a moderate annual
tonnage.
The first three sections of this pamphlet comprise a brief sketch of the
purposes, origin, and construction of my own line. In Section IV. is
given a detailed account of the construction, working, and cost of the
similar line which I made to connect Eaton Hall with the Great Western
Railway. Sections V., VI., VII., and VIII. are more technical, and may be
passed over by those not interested in the mechanical details, although
it is to the care that has been bestowed on these that my success is
chiefly attributable. Section IX. deals, from such experience as I have
acquired, with the conditions under which these small railways may be
profitably installed. In Section X. I have appended a few further items
of possible interest.
II.
OBJECTS OF THE 15 IN. GAUGE.
WHEN, in 1874, I started on the construction of my experimental railway,
the more notable narrow-gauge lines in our own country were those of 18
in. at Crewe, Woolwich, Chatham, and Aldershot—the latter a sad failure
and the admirable 23½ in. from Portmadoc to the Festiniog Slate Quarries.
The Festiniog Railway, which owed its success as a locomotive-worked line
to the persistent energy and ability of the late Mr. Charles Spooner,
opened the eyes of the transport-interested world to the extraordinary
capacity of a very narrow gauge. But here the marvel lies in the manner
in which the work was adapted to the gauge, not in the suitability of the
gauge to the work. No one but an enthusiast would dare to contend that a
two-foot gauge was the ideal width for a line employing twenty-ton
locomotives and hauling about 100,000 passengers and some 150,000 tons of
minerals and goods per annum. If this development could have been
foreseen, the selected gauge would doubtless have been wider. Such a
traffic, however, is quite outside the scope of this pamphlet, the logic
of which is directed to shewing how a much smaller annual tonnage than
has been hitherto deemed worthy of a railway may be profitably thus
conveyed.
An 18 in. line, such as one of those above referred to, would, if of not
more than three or four miles in length and tolerably level, be capable
of transporting, with one locomotive, 60,000 tons of minerals annually,
reckoning the traffic as in one direction only. There are, however, up
and down the country, a number of cases where a traffic of from 5,000 to
10,000 tons is annually hauled between two fixed points over the public
highways by a single employer. Such cases may be classified as large
mansions, public institutions, mines, quarries, &c. Now it is clear that,
unless there is a prospect of large increase in the traffic, it would be
absurd to employ for a maximum of 10,000 tons a railway equal to 60,000
tons, and so the question arises:—What is the smallest and therefore the
cheapest railway capable of being practically and advantageously worked?
This is the question to which I venture to think I can give a reliable
answer.
In the year 1874, after various preliminary trials, I determined to
construct a line of 15 in. gauge, as the smallest width possessing the
necessary stability for practical use, although I once laid down one of 9
in. gauge for my younger brothers, which proved by no means deficient in
carrying power.
The stability of this 9 in. line was perfect enough so long as persons
did not attempt to ride on the ends and edges of the carriages and
wagons, but man being an article of approximately standard size, it is
clear there must be a minimum gauge which will be stable enough to be
independent of such liberties.
Rolling stock properly proportioned to a 15 in. gauge seems the smallest
that will thoroughly insure safety in this respect, and indeed in France
the late M. Décauville, who did so much to develop lines of this class,
arrived at nearly similar conclusions in adopting a minimum width of 16
in.
It must not, of course, be understood that gauges of such small
proportions are to be advocated except where the traffic is unlikely to
increase beyond their capacity, and where the material to be moved can
conveniently be loaded in moderate sized wagons.
Feeling, however, convinced of the eventual recognition of the utility of
lines of minimum gauge, I took some pains to become acquainted with what
had been already achieved in this direction, with the result that,
excepting only the Festiniog railway, where every detail was most ably
worked out by the late Mr. Spooner, I found generally both road and
rolling-stock constructed as mere imitations of those of the standard
gauge, and showing a want of apprehension of the totally different
conditions to be satisfied. To endeavour to solve the various problems
involved in the successful design of engines, carriages, wagons, and
roadway for a minimum gauge is, therefore, the main object of my little
railway. The chief ends in view are the application of such lines to
agricultural or commercial purposes on large estates, or where quarries,
brick yards, and other industrial establishments need better connection
with the pier or railway station from which their productions are
forwarded. An excellent example of such a line is now to be found in the
one I have constructed at Eaton Hall, particulars of which are given in
Section IV. There were also problems relating to adhesion and friction,
particularly from the narrow-gauge point of view, which I was desirous of
solving, some remarks on which will be found in Section VIII.
III.
CONSTRUCTION OF THE DUFFIELD BANK LINE.
THE construction of my line of 15 in. gauge was commenced in 1874, and
various additions were made up to 1881, when the length laid amounted to
a little over a mile, inclusive of sidings. Since the latter date there
has been no material extension, but the permanent way and its accessories
have been gradually improved.
The line runs from the farm and workshops, up a gradient varying from 1
in 10 to 1 in 12 about a quarter-of-a-mile long, to a level 80 ft. above,
where the experimental course is laid out in the shape of a figure 8, so
as to admit of continuous runs. This part, somewhat more than half-a-mile
in length, has a level stretch of a quarter-of-a-mile, the remainder
consisting of gradients, of which 1 in 20 is the most severe. The minimum
curve on the main line is 25 ft. radius, but in the sidings some occur as
sharp as 15 ft. radius.
The permanent way was at first laid with 14 lb. rails, without
fish-plates, spiked to elm and Spanish chestnut sleepers fallen and sawn
on the premises, 5 in. wide, 2 in. thick, and 2 ft. 6 in. long, set at 1
ft. 6 in. centres. The maximum load did not exceed 12 cwt. per axle, but,
although the work was well done, the road was not equal to the weight,
and required incessant attention. The line was then re-laid on sleepers
6½ in. wide, 4 in. thick, and 3 ft. long, with various sections of rails,
12 lbs., 14 lbs., 18 lbs., and 22 lbs. per yard. These were all fitted
with fish-plates, the joints being on a sleeper. The spacing of the
sleepers was varied with the rails, from 1 ft. 6 in. for the 12 lb. to 3
ft. for the 22 lb. section. Any part of this road carries comfortably 25
cwt. per axle. The fish-plates and larger area of sleeper more than
doubled the original carrying power of the rails.
Six years being about the life of these small sleepers, it soon became
necessary to renew them. Seeing that the rails, owing to the light
traffic, remained perfectly good, to have to pull the road to pieces for
the sake of new sleepers only was a serious annoyance. I then determined
to try a light cast-iron sleeper with the same bearing area. After some
years of experiment, a thoroughly satisfactory one was perfected, in
which the rail is held to its place by a curved steel spring key that
cannot work out. The greater part of the line is now laid on these
cast-iron sleepers, which weigh 28 lbs. each, inclusive of the chairs,
which are cast on. This pattern has now had some eighteen years’ test,
and has proved entirely satisfactory. With a 14 lb. steel rail, the
sleepers being spaced 2 ft. 3 in., and at the suspended fish-joint 1 ft.
3 in., the road, under the load of 25 cwt. per axle, requires very little
repair, some parts having stood for five or six years without being
touched, though constantly run over.
The length of the sleeper is a very material point. It should project
beyond the rail a distance of rather more than half the gauge of the line
thus the rail is equally supported inside and out. When the projection is
reduced, the centre of the sleepers cannot be packed up solid, because
the support would then be greatest between the rails, with the result
that the ballast below would assume a convex form lengthwise of the
sleepers, and thus produce an unstable road. On lines of the standard
gauge, if sleepers of this proportion were adopted, and of sufficient
thickness to distribute the load more widely without bending, a great
saving in repairs would be effected; but it is not likely that any
permanent way official will be bold enough to suggest such a radical
change. On the Festiniog Railway of 23½ in. gauge, a sleeper 4 ft. 6 in.
long has been adopted with excellent results.
A detail of importance in laying rails is that the joints should be
opposite one another. For this purpose it is necessary to order a
proportion of the rails 3 in. to 6 in. shorter than the rest, according
to the gauge and radius of curves. In this way the joints can be kept
practically square. A cross-jointed road is not only unpleasant to travel
on, but is also exceedingly difficult to set up true, particularly on
sharp curves.
Steel rails are now almost universally employed, but it is worth
attention that on any part of a line that is either very damp or rarely
used, iron rails will long outlast steel ones, as every mining engineer
knows.
In regard to the most suitable length of rail, I have found 15 ft. very
convenient for weights up to 18 lbs. per yard. A good deal depends upon
whether the rails come from the makers properly straightened. The longer
the rail, the more difficult it is to straighten; as a rule even the most
careful specification will fail to bring them on the ground in a fit
condition for use. It is a very usual thing to look at rails only in
regard to their horizontal truth, but in reality the vertical correction
is of far more importance, and, to detect this, the rail must be turned
on its side. I cannot too strongly insist on the vital importance of
laying only straight and level rails. A good running road can never be
made if any humpy rails are laid, and it is quite impossible to
subsequently rectify the defect without taking up such rails and treating
them under the press. Rail-straighteners should be directed to level a
rail before straightening it, that is, to correct it vertically first,
then horizontally; the reason being that vertical pressing disturbs the
horizontal truth, while the horizontal pressing does not affect the
vertical accuracy.
I have employed a rail-press fitted up on a wagon, specially arranged
with drilling machine for fish bolt holes, with tool boxes, and a brake.
The screw works horizontally, and the rail runs on adjustable rollers at
each end of the wagon. The amount of curve is thus readily appreciated by
the eye as the process proceeds, while with a vertical screw it is
scarcely possible to judge correctly. For sharp curves I use a roller
<DW12> of a type I designed many years ago for the use of the Royal
Engineers in their field railway experiments. In this machine, which
consists of the usual three rollers with the centre one adjustable by a
screw, two men wind the rail through, and, except at the extreme ends,
effect a perfect curve. This machine, however, is of little use for the
ordinary straightening, and, though saving some time on a long curve, is
laborious to work. A curve made under the ordinary screw-press is of
course really a succession of what are technically termed “dog-legs,”
but, unless it be of smaller radius than one chain, these are
imperceptible if the successive pressures are not applied more than about
14 ins. apart. By pressing at still smaller intervals it is possible to
produce sharper curves of reasonable truth, but I find the rails on such
curves work smoother and wear better if bent with the roller machine.
Rails can be laid round moderate curves without requiring to be bent, by
screwing up the fish plates tight and then springing the rail. The extent
to which this can be effected depends on the weight of the rail and on
its length; the longer rail being the more accommodating. It is not
advisable to attempt to spring a 14 lb. rail round a sharper curve than
five chains, or an 18 lb. rail beyond ten chains radius.
The result of attempting too much springing is that the rails, under the
traffic and changes of temperature, work outwards at the joints and make
“dog legs” more or less serious. Where the ballast is of a loose dry
nature very little, if anything, can be done with springing. I have
enlarged upon this subject of rail-laying because it is of prime
importance to a good road, and a matter that, on narrow-gauge lines, does
not receive the attention it requires.
To return to a description of my line, there are on it three tunnels, two
bridges, and a viaduct 91 feet long and 20 feet high. The latter was
erected in 1878, as an improvement upon one at Aldershot, put up by a
gentleman who induced the War Office to sanction a short experimental
line for army transport upon a hopelessly inconvenient and ridiculous
plan.
My structure is of pitch pine, and stood for 16 years without repair. It
is a trestle bridge, the trestles being so designed that each member is a
multiple of the height. The roadway is carried on four timbers; formerly,
for a 8 ton engine, 11 in. deep and 8 in. wide; now, for one of 5 tons,
13 in. deep and 3½ in. wide. These are bolted together in pairs, one pair
under each rail, the two being kept parallel by stretchers and through
bolts at every 5 feet. In each pair the timbers break joint with one
another on alternate trestles, the latter being 15 ft. apart, and each
timber 30 ft. long. The advantages of this arrangement are two-fold, the
timbers can be run forward from trestle to trestle as the work advances
without scaffolding or lifting tackle, and, should one trestle sink out
of line, the continuity of the upper work checks it, and obviates the
dangerous “dog legs” to be almost invariably observed in this class of
bridge. The original cost with the lighter timbers was £30, including
every item of expenditure—equal to £1 per yard. The average height is 15
ft. The details are arranged to require but little skilled labour, the
connections being made entirely by bolts and cast angle-plates. Two
carpenters, in five days framed the five trestles including cutting the
timber to length; and in three more days, with the assistance of three
labourers, the whole was erected and the rails laid ready for traffic. A
platform and railing were, however, subsequently added for the
convenience of foot passengers, thus materially increasing the cost. When
rebuilt in 1894 with stronger timbers, the original trestles were
retained.
Where the line crosses field-fences a <DW18> is dug about 5 to 6 ft. square
and 3 ft. deep, across which the rails are carried on two narrow girders,
thus effectually preventing the passage of cattle, and avoiding both the
delay of gates and the expense of side fencing.
The line is properly equipped with interlocking signals and points on a
very simple plan. These are for the most part worked from two
signal-boxes in telephonic communication.
Particulars of the cost of such a line will be found in Sections IV. and
IX. On my experimental course there are six stations, at three of which
are sheds for the accommodation of the rolling stock. When the line is
used on the occasion of a garden party, a regular service of passenger
trains is run, and several times trains of eight long bogie cars,
carrying 120 passengers, have been hauled up the gradient of 1 in 20, and
up the still more trying one of 1 in 47 situate on a three-quarter-circle
curve of 40 ft. radius.
In the year 1894 I exhibited the line to the engineering public during
three days. On this occasion a variety of experiments in haulage and
shunting were shewn, and for part of each day two trains were run
concurrently.
IV.
DETAILS OF THE EATON HALL LINE.
DURING the exhibition of my railway at Duffield in 1894, one of the
visitors was the Hon. Cecil Parker, agent to the Duke of Westminster, who
was desirous of laying some sort of light railway from Eaton Hall to the
Great Western Railway, three miles distant. It was necessary that the
line should be unobtrusive in appearance, of a thoroughly permanent
character, yet moderate in cost. The traffic was, as it proved, correctly
estimated at from 5,000 to 6,000 tons annually. Here was a perfect
opportunity for a practical experiment with the 15 in. gauge, which was
ample for five times that amount. I was asked to inspect the route, and
subsequently roughly estimated the cost, exclusive of buildings, at about
£6,000. I had some doubt at first whether it was possible for me to find
time to lay out and construct the whole line and rolling stock myself,
but the difficulty of getting special designs effectively carried out by
commercial firms at a reasonable cost decided me to undertake everything.
It was at my desire eventually agreed that I should have a free hand in
regard to all the designs, doing the work at cost price and without
charge for my own time.
The line will now be generally described, after which some of the more
interesting details will be enlarged upon.
The Eaton estate railway connects the Hall with the Great Western Railway
at Balderton, 3 miles distant. The total length of line laid is 4½ miles,
which includes, besides the main line, a branch ¾ mile in length to the
estate works near Pulford, together with several shorter branches to the
estate brickyard and other points. The traffic to be dealt with,
consisting chiefly of coal, road metal, and building material, was
computed at about 6,000 tons per annum. As it was desired that the line
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Produced by Liz Warren
KOKORO
BY
LAFCADIO HEARN
THE papers composing this volume treat of the inner rather than
of the outer life of Japan,--for which reason they have been
grouped under the title Kokoro (heart). Written with the above
character, this word signifies also mind, in the emotional sense;
spirit; courage; resolve; sentiment; affection; and inner
meaning,--just as we say in English, "the heart of things."
KOBE September 15, 1895.
CONTENTS
I. AT A RAILWAY STATION
II. THE GENIUS Of JAPANESE CIVILIZATION
III. A STREET SINGER
IV. FROM A TRAVELING DIARY
V. THE NUN OF THE TEMPLE OF AMIDA
VI. AFTER THE WAR
VII. HARU
VIII. A GLIMPSE OF TENDENCIES
IX. BY FORCE OF KARMA
X. A CONSERVATIVE
XI. IN THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS
XII. THE IDEA OF PRE-EXISTENCE
XIII. IN CHOLERA-TIME
XIV. SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT ANCESTOR-WORSHIP
XV. KIMIKO
APPENDIX. THREE POPULAR BALLADS
KOKORO
I
AT A RAILWAY STATION
Seventh day of the sixth Month;--
twenty-sixth of Meiji.
Yesterday a telegram from Fukuoka announced that a desperate
criminal captured there would be brought for trial to Kumamoto
to-day, on the train due at noon. A Kumamoto policeman had gone
to Fukuoka to take the prisoner in charge.
Four years ago a strong thief entered some house by night in the
Street of the Wrestlers, terrified and bound the inmates, and
carried away a number of valuable things. Tracked skillfully by
the police, he was captured within twenty-four hours,--even
before he could dispose of his plunder. But as he was being taken
to the police station he burst his bonds, snatched the sword of
his captor, killed him, and escaped. Nothing more was heard of
him until last week.
Then a Kumamoto detective, happening to visit the Fukuoka prison,
saw among the toilers a face that had been four years
photographed upon his brain. "Who is that man?" he asked the
guard. "A thief," was the reply,--"registered here as Kusabe."
The detective walked up to the prisoner and said:--
"Kusabe is not your name. Nomura Teichi, you are needed in
Kumamoto for murder." The felon confessed all.
I went with a great throng of people to witness the arrival at
the station. I expected to hear and see anger; I even feared
possibilities of violence. The murdered officer had been much
liked; his relatives would certainly be among the spectators; and
a Kumamoto crowd is not very gentle. I also thought to find many
police on duty. My anticipations were wrong.
The train halted in the usual scene of hurry and noise,--scurry
and clatter of passengers wearing geta,--screaming of boys
wanting to sell Japanese newspapers and Kumamoto lemonade.
Outside the barrier we waited for nearly five minutes. Then,
pushed through the wicket by a police-sergeant, the prisoner
appeared,--a large wild-looking man, with head bowed down, and
arms fastened behind his back. Prisoner and guard both halted in
front of the wicket; and the people pressed forward to see--but
in silence. Then the officer called out,--
"Sugihara San! Sugihara O-Kibi! is she present?"
A slight small woman standing near me, with a child on her back,
answered, "Hai!" and advanced through the press. This was the
widow of the murdered man; the child she carried was his son. At
a wave of the officer's hand the crowd fell back, so as to leave
a clear space about the prisoner and his escort. In that space
the woman with the child stood facing the murderer. The hush was
of death.
Not to the woman at all, but to the child only, did the officer
then speak. He spoke low, but so clearly that I could catch every
syllable:--
"Little one, this is the man who killed your father four years
ago. You had not yet been born; you were in your mother's womb.
That you have no father to love you now is the doing of this man.
Look at him--[here the officer, putting a hand to the prisoner's
chin, sternly forced him to lift his eyes]--look well at him,
little boy! Do not be afraid. It is painful; but it is your duty.
Look at him!"
Over the mother's shoulder the boy gazed with eyes widely open,
as in fear; then he began to sob; then tears came; but steadily
and obediently he still looked--looked--looked--straight into the
cringing face.
The crowd seemed to have stopped breathing.
I saw the prisoner's features distort; I saw him suddenly dash
himself down upon his knees despite his fetters, and beat his
face into the dust, crying out the while in a passion of hoarse
remorse that made one's heart shake:--
"Pardon! pardon! pardon me, little one! That I did--not for hate
was it done, but in mad fear only, in my desire to escape. Very,
very wicked have I been; great unspeakable wrong have I done you!
But now for my sin I go to die. I wish to die; I am glad to die!
Therefore, O little one, be pitiful!--forgive me!"
The child still cried silently. The officer raised the shaking
criminal; the dumb crowd parted left and right to let them by.
Then, quite suddenly, the whole multitude began to sob. And as
the bronzed guardian passed, I saw what I had never seen before,
--what few men ever see,--what I shall probably never see again,
--the tears of a Japanese policeman.
The crowd ebbed, and left me musing on the strange morality of
the spectacle. Here was justice unswerving yet compassionate,--
forcing knowledge of a crime by the pathetic witness of its
simplest result. Here was desperate remorse, praying only for
pardon before death. And here was a populace--perhaps the most
dangerous in the Empire when angered--comprehending all, touched
by all, satisfied with the contrition and the shame, and filled,
not with wrath, but only with the great sorrow of the
sin,--through simple deep experience of the difficulties of life
and the weaknesses of human nature.
But the most significant, because the most Oriental, fact of the
episode was that the appeal to remorse had been made through the
criminal's sense of fatherhood,--that potential love of children
which is so large a part of the soul of every Japanese.
There is a story that the most famous of all Japanese robbers,
Ishikawa Goemon, once by night entering a house to kill and
steal, was charmed by the smile of a baby which reached out hands
to him, and that he remained playing with the little creature
until all chance of carrying out his purpose was lost.
It is not hard to believe this story. Every year the police
records tell of compassion shown to children by professional
criminals. Some months ago a terrible murder case was reported in
the local papers,--the slaughter of a household by robbers. Seven
persons had been literally hewn to pieces while asleep; but the
police discovered a little boy quite unharmed, crying alone in a
pool of blood; and they found evidence unmistakable that the men
who slew must have taken great care not to hurt the child.
II
THE GENIUS OF JAPANESE CIVILIZATION
I
Without losing a single ship or a single battle, Japan has broken
down the power of China, made a new Korea, enlarged her own
territory, and changed the whole political face of the East.
Astonishing as this has seemed politically, it is much more
astonishing psychologically; for it represents the result of a
vast play of capacities with which the race had never been
credited abroad,--capacities of a very high order. The
psychologist knows that the so-called "adoption of Western
civilization" within a time of thirty years cannot mean the
addition to the Japanese brain of any organs or powers previously
absent from it. He knows that it cannot mean any sudden change in
the mental or moral character of the race. Such changes are not
made in a generation. Transmitted civilization works much more
slowly, requiring even hundreds of years to produce certain
permanent psychological results.
It is in this light that Japan appears the most extraordinary
country in the world; and the most wonderful thing in the whole
episode of her "Occidentalization" is that the race brain could
bear so heavy a shock. Nevertheless, though the fact be unique in
human history, what does it really mean? Nothing more than
rearrangement of a part of the pre-existing machinery of thought.
Even that, for thousands of brave young minds, was death. The
adoption of Western civilization was not nearly such an easy
matter as un-thinking persons imagined. And it is quite evident
that the mental readjustments, effected at a cost which remains
to be told, have given good results only along directions in
which the race had always shown capacities of special kinds.
Thus, the appliances of Western industrial invention have worked
admirably in Japanese hands,--have produced excellent results in
those crafts at which the nation had been skillful, in other and
quainter ways, for ages. There has been no transformation,
--nothing more than the turning of old abilities into new and
larger channels. The scientific professions tell the same story.
For certain forms of science, such as medicine, surgery (there
are no better surgeons in the world than the
Japanese), chemistry, microscopy, the Japanese genius is
naturally adapted; and in all these it has done work already
heard of round the world. In war and statecraft it has shown
wonderful power; but throughout their history the Japanese have
been characterized by great military and political capacity.
Nothing remarkable has been done, however, in directions foreign
to the national genius. In the study, for example, of Western
music, Western art, Western literature, time would seem to have
been simply wasted(1). These things make appeal extraordinary to
emotional life with us; they make no such appeal to Japanese
emotional life. Every serious thinker knows that emotional
transformation of the individual through education is impossible.
To imagine that the emotional character of an Oriental race could
be transformed in the short space of thirty years, by the contact
of Occidental ideas, is absurd. Emotional life, which is older
than intellectual life, and deeper, can no more be altered
suddenly by a change of milieu than the surface of a mirror can
be changed by passing reflections. All that Japan has been able
to do so miraculously well has been done without any
self-transformation; and those who imagine her emotionally closer
to us to-day than she may have been thirty years ago ignore facts
of science which admit of no argument.
Sympathy is limited by comprehension. We may sympathize to the
same degree that we understand. One may imagine that he
sympathizes with a Japanese or a Chinese; but the sympathy can
never be real to more than a small extent outside of the simplest
phases of common emotional life,--those phases in which child and
man are at one. The more complex feelings of the Oriental have
been composed by combinations of experiences, ancestral and
individual, which have had no really precise correspondence in
Western life, and which we can therefore not fully know. For
converse reasons, the Japanese cannot, even though they would,
give Europeans their best sympathy.
But while it remains impossible for the man of the West to
discern the true color of Japanese life, either intellectual or
emotional (since the one is woven into the other), it is equally
impossible for him to escape the conviction that, compared with
his own, it is very small. It is dainty; it holds delicate
potentialities of rarest interest and value; but it is otherwise
so small that Western life, by contrast with it, seems almost
supernatural. For we must judge visible and measurable
manifestations. So judging, what a contrast between the emotional
and intellectual worlds of West and East! Far less striking that
between the frail wooden streets of the Japanese capital and the
tremendous solidity of a thoroughfare in Paris or London. When
one compares the utterances which West and East have given to
their dreams, their aspirations, their sensations,--a Gothic
cathedral with a Shinto temple, an opera by Verdi or a trilogy by
Wagner with a performance of geisha, a European epic with a
Japanese poem,--how incalculable the difference in emotional
volume, in imaginative power, in artistic synthesis! True, our
music is an essentially modern art; but in looking back through
all our past the difference in creative force is scarcely less
marked,--not surely in the period of Roman magnificence, of
marble amphitheatres and of aqueducts spanning provinces, nor in
the Greek period of the divine in sculpture and of the supreme in
literature.
And this leads to the subject of another wonderful fact in the
sudden development of Japanese power. Where are the outward
material signs of that immense new force she has been showing
both in productivity and in war? Nowhere! That which we miss in
her emotional and intellectual life is missing also from her
industrial and commercial life,--largeness! The land remains what
it was before; its face has scarcely been modified by all the
changes of Meiji. The miniature railways and telegraph poles, the
bridges and tunnels, might almost escape notice in the ancient
green of the landscapes. In all the cities, with the exception of
the open ports and their little foreign settlements, there exists
hardly a street vista suggesting the teaching of Western ideas.
You might journey two hundred miles through the interior of the
country, looking in vain for large manifestations of the new
civilization. In no place do you find commerce exhibiting its
ambition in gigantic warehouses, or industry expanding its
machinery under acres of roofing. A Japanese city is still, as it
was ten centuries ago, little more than a wilderness of wooden
sheds,--picturesque, indeed, as paper lanterns are, but scarcely
less frail. And there is no great stir and noise anywhere,--no
heavy traffic, no booming and rumbling, no furious haste. In
Tokyo itself you may enjoy, if you wish, the peace of a country
village. This want of visible or audible signs of the new-found
force which is now menacing the markets of the West and changing
the maps of the far East gives one a queer, I might even say a
weird feeling. It is almost the sensation received when, after
climbing through miles of silence to reach some Shinto shrine,
you find voidness only and solitude,--an elfish, empty little
wooden structure, mouldering in shadows a thousand years old. The
strength of Japan, like the strength of her ancient faith, needs
little material display: both exist where the deepest real power
of any great people exists,--in the Race Ghost.
(1) In one limited sense, Western art has influenced Japanese.
literature and drama; but the character of the influence proves
the racial difference to which I refer. European plays have been
reshaped for the Japanese stage, and European novels rewritten
for Japanese readers. But a literal version is rarely attempted;
for the original incidents, thoughts, and emotions would be
unintelligible to the average reader or playgoer. Plots are
adopted; sentiments and incidents are totally transformed. "The
New Magdalen" becomes a Japanese girl who married an Eta. Victor
Hugo's _Les Miserables_ becomes a tale of the Japanese civil war;
and Enjolras a Japanese student. There have been a few rare
exceptions, including the marked success of a literal translation
of the _Sorrows of Werther_.
II
As I muse, the remembrance of a great city comes back to me,--a
city walled up to the sky and roaring like the sea. The memory of
that roar returns first; then the vision defines: a chasm, which
is a street, between mountains, which are houses. I am tired,
because I have walked many miles between those precipices of
masonry, and have trodden no earth,--only slabs of rock,--and
have heard nothing but thunder of tumult. Deep below those huge
pavements I know there is a cavernous world tremendous: systems
underlying systems of ways contrived for water and steam and
fire. On either hand tower facades pierced by scores of tiers of
windows,--cliffs of architecture shutting out the sun. Above, the
pale blue streak of sky is cut by a maze of spidery lines,--an
infinite cobweb of electric wires. In that block on the right
there dwell nine thousand souls; the tenants of the edifice
facing it pay the annual rent of a million dollars. Seven
millions scarcely covered the cost of those bulks overshadowing
the square beyond,--and there are miles of such. Stairways of
steel and cement, of brass and stone, with costliest balustrades,
ascend through the decades and double-decades of stories; but no
foot treads them. By water-power, by steam, by electricity, men
go up and down; the heights are too dizzy, the distances too
great, for the use of the limbs. My friend who pays rent of five
thousand dollars for his rooms in the fourteenth story of a
monstrosity not far off has never trodden his stairway. I am
walking for curiosity alone; with a serious purpose I should not
walk: the spaces are too broad, the time is too precious, for
such slow exertion,--men travel from district to district, from
house to office, by steam. Heights are too great for the voice to
traverse; orders are given and obeyed by machinery. By
electricity far-away doors are opened; with one touch a hundred
rooms are lighted or heated.
And all this enormity is hard, grim, dumb; it is the enormity of
mathematical power applied to utilitarian ends of solidity and
durability. These leagues of palaces, of warehouses, of business
structures, of buildings describable and indescribable, are not
beautiful, but sinister. One feels depressed by the mere
sensation of the enormous life which created them, life without
sympathy; of their prodigious manifestation of power, power
with-out pity. They are the architectural utterance of the new
industrial age. And there is no halt in the thunder of wheels, in
the storming of hoofs and of human feet. To ask a question, one
must shout into the ear of the questioned; to see, to understand,
to move in that high-pressure medium, needs experience. The
unaccustomed feels the sensation of being in a panic, in a
tempest, in a cyclone. Yet all this is order.
The monster streets leap rivers, span sea-ways, with bridges of
stone, bridges of steel. Far as the eye can reach, a bewilderment
of masts, a web-work of rigging, conceals the shores, which are
cliffs of masonry. Trees in a forest stand less thickly, branches
in a forest mingle less closely, than the masts and spars of that
immeasurable maze. Yet all is order.
III
Generally speaking, we construct for endurance, the Japanese for
impermanency. Few things for common use are made in Japan with a
view to durability. The straw sandals worn out and replaced at
each stage of a journey, the robe consisting of a few simple
widths loosely stitched together for wearing, and unstitched
again for washing, the fresh chopsticks served to each new guest
at a hotel, the light shoji frames serving at once for windows
and walls, and repapered twice a year; the mattings renewed every
autumn,--all these are but random examples of countless small
things in daily life that illustrate the national contentment
with impermanency.
What is the story of a common Japanese dwelling? Leaving my home
in the morning, I observe, as I pass the corner of the next
street crossing mine, some men setting up bamboo poles on a
vacant lot there. Returning after five hours' absence, I find on
the same lot the skeleton of a two-story house. Next forenoon I
see that the walls are nearly finished already,--mud and wattles.
By sundown the roof has been completely tiled. On the following
morning I observe that the mattings have been put down, and the
inside plastering has been finished. In five days the house is
completed. This, of course, is a cheap building; a fine one would
take much longer to put up and finish. But Japanese cities are
for the most part composed of such common buildings. They are as
cheap as they are simple.
I cannot now remember where I first met with the observation that
the curve of the Chinese roof might preserve the memory of the
nomad tent. The idea haunted me long after I had ungratefully
forgotten the book in which I found it; and when I first saw, in
Izumo, the singular structure of the old Shinto temples, with
queer cross-projections at their gable-ends and upon their
roof-ridges, the suggestion of the forgotten essayist about the
possible origin of much less ancient forms returned to me with
great force. But there is much in Japan besides primitive
architectural traditions to indicate a nomadic ancestry for the
race. Always and everywhere there is a total absence of what we
would call solidity; and the characteristics of impermanence seem
to mark almost everything in the exterior life of the people,
except, indeed, the immemorial costume of the peasant and the
shape of the implements of his toil. Not to dwell upon the fact
that even during the comparatively brief period of her written
history Japan has had more than sixty capitals, of which the
greater number have completely disappeared, it may be broadly
stated that every Japanese city is rebuilt within the time of a
generation. Some temples and a few colossal fortresses offer
exceptions; but, as a general rule, the Japanese city changes its
substance, if not its form, in the lifetime of a man. Fires,
earth-quakes, and many other causes partly account for this; the
chief reason, however, is that houses are not built to last. The
common people have no ancestral homes. The dearest spot to all
is, not the place of birth, but the place of burial; and there is
little that is permanent save the resting-places of the dead and
the sites of the ancient shrines.
The land itself is a land of impermanence. Rivers shift their
courses, coasts their outline, plains their level; volcanic peaks
heighten or crumble; valleys are blocked by lava-floods or
landslides; lakes appear and disappear. Even the matchless shape
of Fuji, that snowy miracle which has been the inspiration of
artists for centuries, is said to have been slightly changed
since my advent to the country; and not a few other mountains
have in the same short time taken totally new forms. Only the
general lines of the land, the general aspects of its nature, the
general character of the seasons, remain fixed. Even the very
beauty of the landscapes is largely illusive,--a beauty of
shifting colors and moving mists. Only he to whom those
landscapes are familiar can know how their mountain vapors make
mockery of real changes which have been, and ghostly predictions
of other changes yet to be, in the history of the archipelago.
The gods, indeed, remain,--haunt their homes upon the hills,
diffuse a soft religious awe through the twilight of their
groves, perhaps because they are without form and substance.
Their shrines seldom pass utterly into oblivion, like the
dwellings of men. But every Shinto temple is necessarily rebuilt
at more or less brief intervals; and the holiest,--the shrine of
Ise,--in obedience to immemorial custom, must be demolished every
twenty years, and its timbers cut into thousands of tiny charms,
which are distributed to pilgrims.
From Aryan India, through China, came Buddhism, with its vast
doctrine of impermanency. The builders of the first Buddhist
temples in Japan--architects of another race--built well: witness
the Chinese structures at Kamakura that have survived so many
centuries, while of the great city which once surrounded them not
a trace remains. But the psychical influence of Buddhism could in
no land impel minds to the love of material stability. The
teaching that the universe is an illusion; that life is but one
momentary halt upon an infinite journey; that all attachment to
persons, to places, or to things must be fraught with sorrow;
that only through suppression of every desire--even the desire of
Nirvana itself--can humanity reach the eternal peace, certainly
harmonized with the older racial feeling. Though the people never
much occupied themselves with the profounder philosophy of the
foreign faith, its doctrine of impermanency must, in course of
time, have profoundly influenced national character. It explained
and consoled; it imparted new capacity to bear all things
bravely; it strengthened that patience which is a trait of the
race. Even in Japanese art--developed, if not actually created,
under Buddhist influence--the doctrine of impermanency has left
its traces. Buddhism taught that nature was a dream, an illusion,
a phantasmagoria; but it also taught men how to seize the
fleeting impressions of that dream, and how to interpret them in
relation to the highest truth. And they learned well. In the
flushed splendor of the blossom-bursts of spring, in the coming
and the going of the cicada, in the dying crimson of autumn
foliage, in the ghostly beauty of snow, in the delusive motion of
wave or cloud, they saw old parables of perpetual meaning. Even
their calamities--fire, flood, earthquake, pestilence--
interpreted to them unceasingly the doctrine of the eternal
Vanishing.
_All things which exist in Time must perish. The forests, the
mountains,--all things thus exist. In Time are born all things
having desire._
_The Sun and Moon, Sakra himself with all the multitude of his
attendants, will all, without exception, perish; there is not one
that will endure._
_In the beginning things were fixed; in the end again they
separate: different combinations cause other substance; for in
nature there is no uniform and constant principle._
_All component things must grow old; impermanent are all
component things. Even unto a grain of sesamum seed there is no
such thing as a compound which is permanent. All are transient;
all have the inherent quality of dissolution._
_All component things, without exception, are impermanent,
unstable, despicable, sure to depart, disintegrating; all are
temporary as a mirage, as a phantom, or as foam.... Even as all
earthen vessels made by the potter end in being broken, so end
the lives of men._
_And a belief in matter itself is unmentionable and
inexpressible,--it is neither a thing nor no-thing: and this is
known even by children and ignorant persons._
IV
Now it is worth while to inquire if there be not some
compensatory value attaching to this impermanency and this
smallness in the national life.
Nothing is more characteristic of that life than its extreme
fluidity. The Japanese population represents a medium whose
particles are in perpetual circulation. The motion is in itself
peculiar. It is larger and more eccentric than the motion of
Occidental populations, though feebler between points. It is also
much more natural,--so natural that it could not exist in Western
civilization. The relative mobility of a European population and
the Japanese population might be expressed by a comparison
between certain high velocities of vibration and certain low
ones. But the high velocities would represent, in such a
comparison, the consequence of artificial force applied; the
slower vibrations would not. And this difference of kind would
mean more than surface indications could announce. In one sense,
Americans may be right in thinking themselves great travelers. In
another, they are certainly wrong; the man of the people in
America cannot compare, as a traveler, with the man of the people
in Japan. And of course, in considering relative mobility of
populations, one must consider chiefly the great masses, the
workers,--not merely the small class of wealth. In their own
country, the Japanese are the greatest travelers of any civilized
people. They are the greatest travelers because, even in a land
composed mainly of mountain chains, they recognize no obstacles
to travel. The Japanese who travels most is not the man who needs
railways or steamers to carry him.
Now, with us, the common worker is incomparably less free than
the common worker in Japan. He is less free because of the more
complicated mechanism of Occidental societies, whose forces tend
to agglomeration and solid integration. He is less free because
the social and industrial machinery on which he must depend
reshapes him to its own particular requirements, and always so as
to evolve some special and artificial capacity at the cost of
other inherent capacity. He is less free because he must live at
a standard making it impossible for him to win financial
independence by mere thrift. To achieve any such independence, he
must possess exceptional character and exceptional faculties
greater than those of thousands of exceptional competitors
equally eager to escape from the same thralldom. In brief, then,
he is less independent because the special character of his
civilization numbs his natural power to live without the help of
machinery or large capital. To live thus artificially means to
lose, sooner or later, the power of independent movement. Before
a Western man can move he has many things to consider. Before a
Japanese moves he has nothing to consider. He simply leaves the
place he dislikes, and goes to the place he wishes, without any
trouble. There is nothing to prevent him. Poverty is not an
obstacle, but a stimulus. Impedimenta he has none, or only such
as he can dispose of in a few minutes. Distances have no
significance for him. Nature has given him perfect feet that can
spring him over fifty miles a day without pain; a stomach whose
chemistry can extract ample nourishment from food on which no
European could live; and a constitution that scorns heat, cold,
and damp alike, because still unimpaired by unhealthy clothing,
by superfluous comforts, by the habit of seeking warmth from
grates and stoves, and by the habit of wearing leather shoes.
It seems to me that the character of our footgear signifies more
than is commonly supposed. The footgear represents in itself a
check upon individual freedom. It signifies this even in
costliness; but in form it signifies infinitely more. It has
distorted the Western foot out of the original shape, and
rendered it incapable of the work for which it was evolved. The
physical results are not limited to the foot. Whatever acts as a
check, directly or indirectly, upon the organs of locomotion must
extend its effects to the whole physical constitution. Does the
evil stop even there? Perhaps we submit to conventions the most
absurd of any existing in any civilization because we have too
long submitted to the tyranny of shoemakers. There may be defects
in our politics, in our social ethics, in our religious system,
more or less related to the habit of wearing leather shoes.
Submission to the cramping of the body must certainly aid in
developing submission to the cramping of the mind.
The Japanese man of the people--the skilled laborer able to
underbid without effort any Western artisan in the same line of
industry--remains happily independent of both shoemakers and
tailors. His feet are good to look at, his body is healthy, and
his heart is free. If he desire to travel a thousand miles, he
can get ready for his journey in five minutes. His whole outfit
need not cost seventy-five cents; and all his baggage can be put
into a handkerchief. On ten dollars he can travel for a year
without work, or he can travel simply on his ability to work, or
he can travel as a pilgrim. You may reply that any savage can do
the same thing. Yes, but any civilized man cannot; and the
Japanese has been a highly civilized man for at least a thousand
years. Hence his present capacity to threaten Western
manufacturers.
We have been too much accustomed to associate this kind of
independent mobility with the life of our own beggars and tramps,
to have any just conception of its intrinsic meaning. We have
thought of it also in connection with unpleasant
things,--uncleanliness and bad smells. But, as Professor
Chamberlain has well said, "a Japanese crowd is the sweetest in
the world" Your Japanese tramp takes his hot bath daily, if he
has a fraction of a cent to pay for it, or his cold bath, if he
has not. In his little bundle there are combs, toothpicks,
razors, toothbrushes. He never allows himself to become
unpleasant. Reaching his destination, he can transform himself
into a visitor of very nice manners, and faultless though simple
attire(1).
Ability to live without furniture, without impedimenta, with the
least possible amount of neat clothing, shows more than the
advantage held by this Japanese race in | 3,139.753756 |
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MADAME MIDAS
Fergus Hume
PROLOGUE
CAST UP BY THE SEA
A wild bleak-looking coast, with huge water-worn promontories jutting
out into the sea, daring the tempestuous fury of the waves, which dashed
furiously in sheets of seething foam against the iron rocks. Two of
these headlands ran out for a considerable distance, and at the base of
each, ragged cruel-looking rocks stretched still further out into the
ocean until they entirely disappeared beneath the heaving waste of
waters, and only the sudden line of white foam every now and then
streaking the dark green waves betrayed their treacherous presence to
the idle eye. Between these two headlands there was about half a mile of
yellow sandy beach on which the waves rolled with a dull roar, fringing
the wet sands with many wreaths of sea-weed and delicate
shells. At the back the cliffs rose in a kind of semi-circle, black and
precipitous, to the height of about a hundred feet, and flocks of white
seagulls who had their nests therein were constantly circling round, or
flying seaward with steadily expanded wings and discordant cries. At the
top of these inhospitable-looking cliffs a line of pale green betrayed
the presence of vegetation, and from thence it spread inland into
vast-rolling pastures ending far away at the outskirts of the bush,
above which could be seen giant mountains with snow-covered ranges. Over
all this strange contrast of savage arid coast and peaceful upland there
was a glaring red sky--not the delicate evanescent pink of an ordinary
sunset--but a fierce angry crimson which turned the wet sands and dark
expanse of ocean into the colour of blood. Far away westward, where
the sun--a molten ball of fire--was sinking behind the snow-clad peaks,
frowned long lines of gloomy clouds--like prison bars through which the
sinking orb glowed fiercely. Rising from the east to the zenith of the
sky was a huge black cloud bearing a curious resemblance to a gigantic
hand, the long lean fingers of which were stretched threateningly out
as if to grasp the land and drag it back into the lurid sea of blood;
altogether a cruel, weird-looking scene, fantastic, unreal, and bizarre
as one of Dore's marvellous conceptions. Suddenly on the red waters
there appeared a black speck, rising and falling with the restless
waves, and ever drawing nearer and nearer to the gloomy cliffs and sandy
beach. When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the speck resolved
itself into a boat, a mere shallop, painted a dingy white, and much
battered by the waves as it tossed lightly on the crimson waters. It had
one mast and a small sail all torn and patched, which by some miracle
held together, and swelling out to the wind drew the boat nearer to the
land. In this frail craft were two men, one of whom was kneeling in the
prow of the boat shading his eyes from the sunlight with his hands and
gazing eagerly at the cliffs, while the other sat in the centre with
bowed head, in an attitude of sullen resignation, holding the straining
sail by a stout rope twisted round his arm. Neither of them spoke a word
till within a short distance of the beach, when the man at the
look-out arose, tall and gaunt, and stretched out his hands to the
inhospitable-looking coast with a harsh, exulting laugh.
'At last,' he cried, in a hoarse, strained voice, and in a foreign
tongue; 'freedom at last.'
The other man made no comment on this outburst of his companion, but
kept his eyes steadfastly on the bottom of the boat, where lay a small
barrel and a bag of mouldy biscuits, the remnants of their provisions on
the voyage.
The man who had spoken evidently did not expect an answer from his
companion, for he did not even turn his head to look at him, but stood
with folded arms gazing eagerly ahead, until, with a sudden rush, the
boat drove up high and dry on the shore, sending him head-over-heels
into the wet sand. He struggled to his feet quickly, and, running up the
beach a little way, turned to see how his companion had fared. The
other had fallen into the sea, but had picked himself up, and was busily
engaged in wringing the water from his coarse clothing. There was a
smooth water-worn boulder on the beach, and, seeing this, the man who
had spoken went up to it and sat down thereon, while his companion,
evidently of a more practical turn of mind, collected the stale biscuits
which had fallen out of the bag, then, taking the barrel carefully on
his shoulder, walked up to where the other was sitting, and threw both
biscuits and barrel at his feet.
He then flung himself wearily on the sand, and picking up a biscuit
began to munch it steadily. The other drew a tin pannikin from the bosom
of his shirt, and nodded his head towards the barrel, upon which the
eater laid down his biscuit, and, taking up the barrel, drew the bung,
and let a few drops of water trickle into the tin dish. The man on the
boulder drank every drop, then threw the pannikin down on the sand,
while his companion, who had exhausted the contents of the barrel,
looked wolfishly at him. The other, however, did not take the slightest
notice of his friend's lowering looks, but began to eat a biscuit and
look around him. There was a strong contrast between these two waifs of
the sea which the ocean had just thrown up on the desolate coast. The
man on the boulder was a tall, slightly-built young fellow, apparently
about thirty years of age, with leonine masses of reddish-
hair, and a short, stubbly beard of the same tint. His face, pale and
attenuated by famine, looked sharp and clever; and his eyes, forming
a strong contrast to his hair, were quite black, with thin,
delicately-drawn eyebrows above them. They scintillated with a peculiar
light which, though not offensive, yet gave anyone looking at him an
uncomfortable feeling of insecurity. The young man's hands, though
hardened and discoloured, were yet finely formed, while even the coarse,
heavy boots he wore could not disguise the delicacy of his feet. He was
dressed in a rough blue suit of clothes, all torn and much stained by
sea water, and his head was covered with a red cap of wool-work which
rested lightly on his tangled masses of hair. After a time he tossed
aside the biscuit he was eating, and looked down at his companion with
a cynical smile. The man at his feet was a rough, heavy-looking fellow,
squarely and massively built, with black hair and a heavy beard of the
same sombre hue. His hands were long and sinewy; his feet--which were
bare--large and ungainly: and his whole appearance was that of a man in
a low station of life. No one could have told the colour of his eyes,
for he looked obstinately at the ground; and the expression of his
face was so sullen and forbidding that altogether he appeared to be an
exceedingly unpleasant individual. His companion eyed him for a short
time in a cool, calculating manner, and then rose painfully to his feet.
'So,' he said rapidly in French, waving his hand towards the frowning
cliffs,'so, my Pierre, we are in the land of promise; though I must
confess'--with a disparaging shrug of the shoulders--'it certainly
does not look very promising: still, we are on dry land, and that is
something after tossing about so long in that stupid boat, with only a
plank between us and death. Bah!'--with another expressive shrug--'why
should I call it stupid? It has carried us all the way from New
Caledonia, that hell upon earth, and landed us safely in what may turn
out Paradise. We must not be ungrateful to the bridge that carried us
over--eh, my friend?'
The man addressed as Pierre nodded an assent, then pointed towards the
boat; the other looked up and saw that the tide had risen, and that the
boat was drifting slowly away from the land.
'It goes,' he said coolly, 'back again to its proper owner, I suppose.
Well, let it. We have no further need of it, for, like Caesar, we have
now crossed the Rubicon. We are no longer convicts from a French
prison, my friend, but shipwrecked sailors; you hear?'--with a sudden
scintillation from his black eyes--'shipwrecked sailors; and I will tell
the story of the wreck. Luckily, I can depend on your discretion, as you
have not even a tongue to contradict, which you wouldn't do if you had.'
The dumb man rose slowly to his feet, and pointed to the cliffs frowning
above them. The other answered his thought with a careless shrug of the
shoulders.
'We must climb,' he said lightly, 'and let us hope the top will prove
less inhospitable than this place. Where we are I don't know, except
that this is Australia; there is gold here, my friend, and we must get
our share of it. We will match our Gallic wit against these English
fools, and see who comes off best. You have strength, I have brains;
so we will do great things; but'--laying his hand impressively on the
other's breast--'no quarter, no yielding, you see!'
The dumb man nodded violently, and rubbed his ungainly hands together in
delight.
'You don't know Balzac, my friend,' went on the young man in a
conversational tone, 'or I would tell you that, like Rastignac, war
is declared between ourselves and society; but if you have not the
knowledge you have the will, and that is enough for me. Come, let us
make the first step towards our wealth;' and without casting a glance
behind him, he turned and walked towards the nearest headland, followed
by the dumb man with bent head and slouching gait.
The rain and wind had been at work on this promontory, and their
combined action had broken off great masses of rock, which lay in rugged
confusion at the base. This offered painful but secure foothold, and
the two adventurers, with much labour--for they were weak with the
privations endured on the voyage from New Caledonia--managed to climb
half way up the cliff, when they stopped to take breath and look around
them. They were now in a perilous position, for, hanging as they were
on a narrow ledge of rock midway between | 3,139.848725 |
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by The Internet Archive)
IN INDIAN TENTS
IN INDIAN TENTS
Stories
TOLD BY PENOBSCOT, PASSAMAQUODDY
AND MICMAC INDIANS
TO
ABBY L. ALGER
[Illustration: colophon]
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1897
_Copyright, 1897_,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
This Book
IS
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
TO
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND,
TO WHOSE INSPIRATION IT OWES
ITS ORIGIN.
PREFACE
In the summer of 1882 and 1883, I was associated with Charles G. Leland
in the collection of the material for his book “The Algonquin Legends of
New England,” published by Houghton and Mifflin in 1884.
I found the work so delightful, that I have gone on with it since,
whenever I found myself in the neighborhood of Indians. The supply of
legends and tales seems to be endless, one supplementing and completing
another, so that there may be a dozen versions of one tale, each
containing something new. I have tried, in this little book, in every
case, to bring these various versions into a single whole; though I
scarcely hope to give my readers the pleasure which I found in hearing
them from the Indian story-tellers. Only the very old men and women
remember these stories now; and though they know that their legends
will soon be buried with them, and forgotten, it is no easy task to
induce them to repeat them. One may make half-a-dozen visits, tell his
own best stories, and exert all his arts of persuasion in vain, then
stroll hopelessly by some day, to be called in to hear some marvellous
bit of folk-lore. These old people have firm faith in the witches,
fairies, and giants of whom they tell; and any trace of amusement or
incredulity would meet with quick indignation and reserve.
Two of these stories have been printed in Appleton’s “Popular Science
Monthly,” and are in the English Magazine “Folk-Lore.”
I am under the deepest obligation to my friend, Mrs. Wallace Brown, of
Calais, Maine, who has generously contributed a number of stories from
her own collection.
The woman whose likeness appears on the cover of this book was a famous
story-teller, one of the few nearly pure-blooded Indians in the
Passamaquoddy tribe. She was over eighty-seven when this picture was
taken.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE CREATION 11
GRANDFATHER THUNDER 15
THE FIGHT OF THE WITCHES 19
ŪLISKE 30
STORY OF WĀLŪT 34
OLD SNOWBALL 44
ĀL-WŪS-KI-NI-GESS, THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS 51
M’TĒŪLIN, THE GREAT WITCH 53
SUMMER 57
THE BUILDING OF THE BOATS 61
THE MERMAN 66
STORY OF STURGEON 72
GRANDFATHER KIAWĀKQ’ 77
OLD GOVERNOR JOHN 81
K’CHĪ GESS’N, THE NORTHWEST WIND 84
BIG BELLY 95
CHĪBALOCH, THE SPIRIT OF THE AIR 99
STORY OF TEAM, THE MOOSE 101
THE SNAKE AND THE PORCUPINE 106
WHY THE RABBIT’S NOSE IS SPLIT 108
STORY OF THE SQUIRREL 111
WAWBĀBAN, THE NORTHERN LIGHTS 130
THE WOOD WORM’S STORY, SHOWING WHY THE
RAVEN’S FEATHERS ARE BLACK 134
IN INDIAN TENTS
THE CREATION
In the beginning God made Adam out of the earth, but he did not make
Glūs-kābé (the Indian God). Glūs-kābé made himself out of the dirt that
was kicked up in the creation of Adam. He rose and walked about, but he
could not speak until the Lord opened his lips.
God made the earth and the sea, and then he took counsel with Glūs-kābé
concerning them. He asked him if it would be better to have the rivers
run up on one side of the earth and down on the other, but Glūs-kābé
said, “No, they must all run down one way.”
Then the Lord asked him about the ocean, whether it would do to have it
always lie still. Glūs-kābé told him, “No!” It must rise and fall, or
else it would grow thick and stagnant.
“How about fire?” asked the Lord; “can it burn all the time and nobody
put it out?”
Glūs-kābé said: “That would not do, for if anybody got burned and fire
could not be put out, they would die; but if it could be put out, then
the burn would get well.”
So he answered all the Lord’s questions.
After this, Glūs-kābé was out on the ocean one day, and the wind blew so
hard he could not manage his canoe. He had to go back to land, and he
asked his old grandmother (among Indians this title is often only a mark
of respect, and does not always indicate any blood relationship), “Māli
Moninkwess” (the Woodchuck), what he could do. She told him to follow a
certain road up a mountain. There he found an old man sitting on a rock
flapping his wings (arms) violently. This was “Wūchowsen,” the great
Wind-blower. He begged Glūs-kābé to take him up higher, where he would
have space to flap his wings still harder. So Glūs-kābé lifted him up
and carried him a long way. When they were over a great lake, he let
Wūchowsen drop into the water. In falling he broke his wings, and lay
there helpless.
Glūs-kābé went back to sea and found the ocean as smooth as glass. He
enjoyed himself greatly for many days, paddling about; but finally the
water grew stagnant and thick, and a great smell arose. The fish died,
and Glūs-kābé could bear it no longer.
Again he consulted his grandmother, and she told him that he must set
Wūchowsen free. So he once more bore Wūchowsen back to his mountain,
first making him promise not to flap his wings so constantly, but only
now and then, so that the Indians might go out in their canoes. Upon his
consent to do this, Glūs-kābé mended his broken wings; but they were
never quite so strong as at first, and thus we do not now have such
terrible winds as in the olden days.
* * * * *
This story was told to me by an old man whom I had always thought dull
and almost in his dotage; but one day, after I had told him some Indian
legends, his whole face changed, he threw back his head, closed his
eyes, and without the slightest warning or preliminary began to relate,
almost to chant, this myth in a most extraordinary way, which so
startled me that I could not at the time take any notes of it, and was
obliged to have it repeated later. The account of Wūchowsen was added to
show the wisdom of Glūs-kābé’s advice in the earlier part of the tale,
and is found among many tribes.
GRANDFATHER THUNDER
During the summer of 1892, at York Harbor, Maine, I was in daily
communication with a party of Penobscot Indians from Oldtown, among whom
were an old man and woman, from whom I got many curious legends. The day
after a terrible thunderstorm I asked the old woman how they had
weathered it in their tents. She looked searchingly at me and said, “It
was good.” After a moment she added, “You know the thunder is our
grandfather?” I answered that I did not know it, and was startled when
she continued: “Yes, when we hear the first roll of the thunder,
especially the first thunder in the spring, we always go out into the
open air, build a fire, put a little tobacco on it, and give grandfather
a smoke. Ever since I can remember, my father and my grandfather did
this, and I shall always do it as long as I live. I’ll tell you the
story of it and why we do so.
“Long time ago there were two Indian families living in a very lonely
place. This was before there were any white people in the land. They
lived far apart. Each family had a daughter, and these girls were great
friends. One sultry afternoon in the late spring, one of them told her
mother she wanted to go to see her friend. The mother said: ‘No, it is
not right for you to go alone, such a handsome girl as you; you must
wait till your father or your brother are here to go with you.’ But the
girl insisted, and at last her mother yielded and let her go. She had
not gone far when she met a tall, handsome young man, who spoke to her.
He joined her, and his words were so sweet that she noticed nothing and
knew not which way she went until at last she looked up and found
herself in a strange place where she had never been before. In front of
her was a great hole in the face of a rock. The young man told her that
this was his home, and invited her to enter. She refused, but he urged
until she said that if he would go first, she would follow after. He
entered, but when she looked after him she saw that he was changed to a
fearful, ‘Wī-will-mecq’--a loathly worm. She shrieked, and turned to
run away; but at that instant a loud clap of thunder was heard, and she
knew no more until she opened her eyes in a vast room, where sat an old
man watching her. When he saw that she had awaked, he said, ‘I am your
grandfather Thunder, and I have saved you.’ Leading her to the door, he
showed her the Wī-will-mecq, dead as a log, and chopped into small bits
like kindling wood. The old man had three sons, one named ‘M’dessun.’ He
is the baby, and is very fierce and cruel. It is he who slays men and
beasts and destroys property. The other two are kind and gentle; they
cool the hot air, revive the parched fields and the crops, and destroy
only that which is harmful to the earth. When you hear low, distant
mutterings, that is the old man. He told the girl that as often as
spring returned she must think of him, and show that she was grateful by
giving him a little smoke. He then took leave of her and sent her home,
where her family had mourned her as one dead. Since then no Indian has
ever feared thunder.” I said, “But how about the lightning?” “Oh,” said
the old woman, “lightning is grandfather’s wife.”
Later in the summer, at Jackson, in the White Mountains, I met Louis
Mitchell, for many years the Indian member of the Maine Legislature, a
Passamaquoddy, and asked him about this story. He said it was perfectly
true, although the custom was now falling into disuse; only the old
people kept it up. The tobacco is cast upon the fire in a ring, and
draws the electricity, which plays above it in a beautiful blue circle
of flickering flames. He added that it is a well-known fact that no
Indian and no Indian property were ever injured by lightning.
THE FIGHT OF THE WITCHES
Many, many long years ago, there lived in a vast cave in the interior of
a great mountain, an old man who was a “Kiāwākq’ m’teoulin,” or Giant
Witch.
Near the mountain was a big Indian village, whose chief was named
“Hassagwākq’,” or the Striped Squirrel. Every few days some of his best
warriors disappeared mysteriously from the tribe, until Hassagwākq at
last became convinced that they were killed by the Giant Witch. He
therefore called a council of all the most mighty magicians among his
followers, who gathered together in a new strong wigwam made for the
occasion. There were ten of them in all, and their names were as
follows: “Quābīt,” the Beaver; “Moskwe,” the Wood Worm; “Quāgsis,” the
Fox; “K’tchī Atōsis,” the Big Snake; “Āgwem,” the Loon; “Kosq,” the
Heron; “Mūin,” the Bear; “Lox,” the Indian Devil; “K’tchīplāgan,” the
Eagle; and “Wābe-kèloch,” the Wild Goose.
The great chief Hassagwākq’ addressed the sorcerers, and told them that
he hoped they might be able to conquer the Giant Witch, and that they
must do so at once if possible, or else their tribe would be
exterminated. The sorcerers resolved to begin the battle the very next
night, and promised to put forth their utmost power to destroy the
enemy.
But the Giant Witch could foretell all his troubles by his dreams, and
that selfsame night he dreamed of all the plans which the followers of
Striped Squirrel had formed for his ruin.
Now all Indian witches have one or more “poohegans,” or guardian
spirits, and the Giant Witch at once despatched one of his poohegans,
little “Alūmūset,” the Humming-bird, to the chief | 3,139.84948 |
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Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
THE
HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE
BY
JAMES BRYCE, D.C.L.
_FELLOW OF ORIEL COLLEGE
and
PROFESSOR OF CIVIL LAW IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD_
THIRD EDITION REVISED
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1871
OXFORD:
By T. Combe, M.A., E. B. Gardner, and E. Pickard Hall,
PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
The object of this treatise is not so much to give a narrative history
of the countries included in the Romano-Germanic Empire--Italy during
the middle ages, Germany from the ninth century to the nineteenth--as
to describe the Holy Empire itself as an institution or system, the
wonderful offspring of a body of beliefs and traditions which have
almost wholly passed away from the world. Such a description, however,
would not be intelligible without some account of the great events
which accompanied the growth and decay of imperial power; and it has
therefore appeared best to give the book the form rather of a
narrative than of a dissertation; and to combine with an exposition of
what may be called the theory of the Empire an outline of the
political history of Germany, as well as some notices of the affairs
of mediaeval Italy. To make the succession of events clearer, a
Chronological List of Emperors and Popes has been prefixed[1].
The present edition has been carefully revised and corrected
throughout; and a good many additions have been made to both text and
notes.
LINCOLN'S INN,
August 11, 1870.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] The author has in preparation, and hopes before long to complete
and publish, a set of chronological tables which may be made to serve
as a sort of skeleton history of mediaeval Germany and Italy.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory.
CHAPTER II.
The Roman Empire before the Invasion of the Barbarians.
The Empire in the Second Century 5
Obliteration of National distinctions 6
Rise of Christianity 10
Its Alliance with the State 10
Its Influence on the Idea of an Imperial Nationality 13
CHAPTER III.
The Barbarian Invasions.
Relations between the Primitive Germans and the Romans 15
Their Feelings towards Rome and her Empire 16
Belief in its Eternity 20
Extinction by Odoacer of the Western branch of the Empire 26
Theodoric the Ostrogothic King 27
Gradual Dissolution of the Empire 30
Permanence of the Roman Religion and the Roman Law 31
CHAPTER IV.
Restoration of the Empire in the West.
The Franks 34
Italy under Greeks and Lombards 37
The Iconoclastic Schism 38
Alliance of the Popes with the Frankish Kings 39
The Frankish Conquest of Italy 41
Adventures and Plans of Pope Leo III 43
Coronation of Charles the Great 48
CHAPTER V.
Empire and Policy of Charles.
Import of the Coronation at Rome 52
Accounts given in the Annals of the time 53
Question as to the Intentions of Charles 58
Legal Effect of the Coronation 62
Position of Charles towards the Church 64
Towards his German Subjects 67
Towards the other Races of Europe 70
General View of his Character and Policy 72
CHAPTER VI.
Carolingian and Italian Emperors.
Reign of Lewis I 76
Dissolution of the Carolingian Empire 78
Beginnings of the German Kingdom 79
Italian Emperors 80
Otto the Saxon King 84
Coronation of Otto at Rome 87
CHAPTER VII.
Theory of the Mediaeval Empire.
The World Monarchy and the World Religion 91
Unity of the Christian Church 94
Influence of the Doctrine of Realism 97
The Popes as heirs to the Roman Monarchy 99
Character of the revived Roman Empire 102
Respective Functions of the Pope and the Emperor 104
Proofs and Illustrations 109
Interpretations of Prophecy 112
Two remarkable Pictures 116
CHAPTER VIII.
The Roman Empire and the German Kingdom.
The German or East Frankish Monarchy 122
Feudality in Germany 123
Reciprocal Influence of the Roman and Teutonic Elements on
the Character of the Empire 127
CHAPTER IX.
Saxon and Franconian Emperors.
Adventures of Otto the Great in Rome 134
Trial and Deposition of Pope John XII 135
Position of Otto in Italy 139
His European Policy 140
Comparison of his Empire with the Carolingian 144
Character and Projects of the Emperor Otto III 146
The Emperors Henry II and Conrad II 150
The Emperor Henry III 151
CHAPTER X.
Struggle of the Empire and the Papacy.
Origin and Progress of Papal Power 153
Relations of the Popes with the early Emperors 155
Quarrel of Henry IV and Gregory VII 159
Gregory's Ideas 160
Concordat of Worms 163
General Results of the Contest 164
CHAPTER XI.
The Emperors in Italy: Frederick Barbarossa.
Frederick and the Papacy 167
Revival of the Study of the Roman Law 172
Arnold of Brescia and the Roman Republicans 174
Frederick's Struggle with the Lombard Cities 175
His Policy as German King 178
CHAPTER XII.
Imperial Titles and Pretensions.
Territorial Limits of the Empire--Its Claims of Jurisdiction
over other Countries 182
Hungary 183
Poland 184
Denmark 184
France 185
Sweden 185
Spain 185
England 186
Scotland 187
Naples and Sicily 188
Venice 188
The East 189
Rivalry of the Teutonic and Byzantine Emperors 191
The Four Crowns 193
Origin and Meaning of the title 'Holy Empire' 199
CHAPTER XIII.
Fall of the Hohenstaufen.
Reign of Henry VI 205
Contest of Philip and Otto IV 206
Character and Career of the Emperor Frederick II 207
Destruction of Imperial Authority in Italy 211
The Great Interregnum 212
Rudolf of Hapsburg 213
Change in the Character of the Empire 214
Haughty Demeanour of the Popes 217
CHAPTER XIV.
The Germanic Constitution--the Seven Electors.
Germany in the Fourteenth Century 222
Reign of the Emperor Charles IV 225
Origin and History of the System of Election, and of the
Electoral Body 225
The Golden Bull 230
Remarks on the Elective Monarchy of Germany 233
Results of Charles IV's Policy 236
CHAPTER XV.
The Empire as an International Power.
Revival of Learning 240
Beginnings of Political Thought 241
Desire for an International Power 242
Theory of the Emperor's Functions as Monarch of Europe 244
Illustrations 249
Relations of the Empire and the New Learning 251
The Men of Letters--Petrarch, Dante 254
The Jurists 256
Passion for Antiquity in the Middle Ages: its Causes 258
The Emperor Henry VII in Italy 262
The _De Monarchia_ of Dante 264
CHAPTER XVI.
The City of Rome in the Middle Ages.
Rapid Decline of the City after the Gothic Wars 273
Her Condition in the Dark Ages 274
Republican Revival of the Twelfth Century 276
Character and Ideas of Nicholas Rienzi 278
Social State of Mediaeval Rome 280
Visits of the Teutonic Emperors 282
Revolts against them 284
Existing Traces of their Presence in Rome 286
Want of Mediaeval, and especially of Gothic Buildings, in
Modern Rome 289
Causes of this; Ravages of Enemies and Citizens 291
Modern Restorations 292
Surviving Features of truly Mediaeval Architecture--the
Bell-towers 294
The Roman Church and the Roman City 296
Rome since the Revolution 299
CHAPTER XVII.
The Renaissance: Change in the Character of the Empire.
Weakness of Germany 302
Loss of Imperial Territories 303
Gradual Change in the Germanic Constitution 307
Beginning of the Predominance of the Hapsburgs 310
The Discovery of America 311
The Renaissance and its Effects on the Empire 311
Projects of Constitutional Reform 313
Changes of Title 316
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Reformation and its Effects upon the Empire.
Accession of Charles V 319
His Attitude towards the Reformation 321
Issue of his Attempts at Coercion 322
Spirit and Essence of the Religious Movement 325
Its Influence on the Doctrine of the Visible Church 327
How far it promoted Civil and Religious Liberty 329
Its Effect upon the Mediaeval Theory of the Empire 332
Upon the Position of the Emperor in Europe 333
Dissensions in Germany 334
The Thirty Years' War 335
CHAPTER XIX.
The Peace of Westphalia: Last Stage in the Decline
of the Empire.
Political Import of the Peace of Westphalia 337
Hippolytus a Lapide and his Book 339
Changes in the Germanic Constitution 340
Narrowed Bounds of the Empire 341
Condition of Germany after the Peace 342
The Balance of Power 345
The Hapsburg Emperors and their Policy 348
The Emperor Charles VII 351
The Empire in its last Phase 352
Feelings of the German People 354
CHAPTER XX.
Fall of the Empire.
The Emperor Francis II 356
Napoleon as the Representative of the Carolingians 357
The French Empire 360
Napoleon's German Policy 361
The Confederation of the Rhine 362
End of the Empire 363
The German Confederation 364
CHAPTER XXI.
Conclusion: General Summary.
Causes of the Perpetuation of the Name of Rome 366
Parallel instances: Claims now made to represent the Roman
Empire 367
Parallel afforded by the History of the Papacy 369
In how far was the Empire really Roman 374
Imperialism: Ancient and Modern 375
Essential Principles of the Mediaeval Empire 377
Influence of the Imperial System in Germany 378
The Claim of Modern Austria to represent the Mediaeval Empire 381
Results of the Influence of the Empire upon Europe 383
Upon Modern Jurisprudence 383
Upon the Development of the Ecclesiastical Power 384
Struggle of the Empire with three Hostile Principles 388
Its Relations, Past and Present, to the Nationalities
of Europe 390
Conclusion: Difficulties caused by the Nature of the
Subject 392
APPENDIX.
NOTE A.
On the Burgundies 395
NOTE B.
On the Relations to the Empire of the Kingdom of Denmark
and the Duchies of Schleswig and Holstein 398
NOTE C.
On certain Imperial Titles and Ceremonies 400
NOTE D.
Hildebert's Lines contrasting the Past and Present of Rome 406
INDEX 407
DATES OF
SEVERAL IMPORTANT EVENTS
IN THE HISTORY OF THE EMPIRE.
B.C.
Battle of Pharsalia 48
A.D.
Council of Nicaea 325
End of the separate Western Empire 476
Revolt of the Italians from the Iconoclastic Emperors 728
Coronation of Charles the Great 800
End of the Carolingian Empire 888
Coronation of Otto the Great 962
Final Union of Italy to the Empire 1014
Quarrel between Henry IV and Gregory VII 1076
The First Crusade 1096
Battle of Legnano 1176
Death of Frederick II 1250
League of the three Forest Cantons of Switzerland 1308
Career of Rienzi 1347-1354
The Golden Bull 1356
Council of Constance 1415
Extinction of the Eastern Empire 1453
Discovery of America 1492
Luther at the Diet of Worms 1521
Beginning of the Thirty Years' War 1618
Peace of Westphalia 1648
Prussia recognized as a Kingdom 1701
End of the House of Hapsburg 1742
Seven Years' War 1756-1763
Peace of Luneville 1801
Formation of the German Confederation 1815
Establishment of the North German Confederation 1866
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
OF
EMPERORS AND POPES.
A. D. B. C.
Augustus. 27
A. D.
Tiberius. 14
Caligula. 37
Claudius. 41
42 St. Peter, (according
to Jerome).
Nero. 54
67 Linus, (according to
Jerome, Irenaeus,
Eusebius).
68 Clement, (according Galba, Otho, Vitellius,
to Tertullian and Vespasian. 68
Rufinus).
78 Anacletus (?).
Titus. 79
Domitian. 81
91 Clement, (according
to later writers).
Nerva. 96
Trajan. 98
100 Evaristus (?).
109 Alexander (?).
Hadrian. 117
119 Sixtus I.
129 Telesphorus.
Antoninus Pius. 138
139 Hyginus.
143 Pius I.
157 Anicetus.
Marcus Aurelius. 161
168 Soter.
177 Eleutherius.
Commodus. 180
Pertinax. 190
Didius Julianus. 191
Niger. 192
193 Victor (?). Septimius Severus. 193
202 Zephyrinus (?).
Caracalla, Geta,
Diadumenian. 211
Opilius Macrinus. 217
Elagabalus. 218
219 Calixtus I.
Alexander Severus. 222
223 Urban I.
230 Pontianus.
235 Anterius or Anteros. Maximin. 235
236 Fabianus.
The two Gordians, Maximus
Pupienus, Balbinus. 237
Gordian the Younger. 238
Philip. 244
Decius. 249
251 Cornelius. Gallus. 251
252 Lucius I. Volusian. 252
253 Stephen I. AEmilian, Valerian,
Gallienus. 253
257 Sixtus II.
259 Dionysius.
Claudius II. 268
269 Felix.
Aurelian. 270
275 Eutychianus. Tacitus. 275
Probus. 276
Carus. 282
283 Caius.
Carinus, Numerian,
Diocletian. 284
Maximian, joint Emperor
with Diocletian. 286
296 Marcellinus. [305(?)
304 Vacancy. Constantius, Galerius. 304(?)
Licinius. or 307]
308 Marcellus I. Maximin. 308
Constantine, Galerius,
Licinius, Maximin,
Maxentius, and Maximian
reigning jointly. 309
310 Eusebius.
311 Melchiades.
314 Sylvester I.
Constantine (the Great)
alone. 323
336 Marcus I.
337 Julius I. Constantine II,
Constantius II,
Constans. 337
Magnentius. 350
352 Liberius.
Constantius alone. 353
356 Felix (Anti-pope).
Julian. 361
Jovian. 363
Valens and Valentinian I. 364
366 Damasus I.
Gratian and Valentinian I. 367
Valentinian II and
Gratian. 375
Theodosius. 379
384 Siricius.
Arcadius (in the East),
Honorius (in the West). 395
398 Anastasius I.
402 Innocent I.
Theodosius II. (E) 408
417 Zosimus.
418 Boniface I.
418 Eulalius (Anti-pope).
422 Celestine I.
Valentinian III. (W) 424
432 Sixtus III.
440 Leo I (the Great).
Marcian. (E) 450
Maximus, Avitus. (W) 455
Majorian. (W) 455
Leo I. (E) 457
461 Hilarius. Severus. (W) 461
Vacancy. (W) 465
Anthemius. (W) 467
468 Simplicius.
Olybrius. (W) 472
Glycerius. (W) 473
Julius Nepos. (W) 474
Leo II, Zeno, Basiliscus
(all E.) 474
Romulus Augustulus. (W) 475
(End of the Western Line
in Romulus Augustus. 476)
(Henceforth, till A.D. 800,
Emperors reigning at
483 Felix III[2]. Constantinople).
Anastasius I. 491
492 Gelasius I.
496 Anastasius II.
498 Symmachus.
498 Laurentius (Anti-pope).
514 Hormisdas.
Justin I. 518
523 John I.
526 Felix IV.
Justinian. 527
530 Boniface II.
530 Dioscorus (Anti-pope).
532 John II.
535 Agapetus I.
536 Silverius.
537 Vigilius.
555 Pelagius I.
560 John III.
Justin II. 565
574 Benedict I.
578 Pelagius II. Tiberius II. 578
Maurice. 582
590 Gregory I (the Great).
Phocas. 602
604 Sabinianus.
607 Boniface III.
607 Boniface IV.
Heraclius. 610
615 Deus dedit.
618 Boniface V.
625 Honorius I.
638 Severinus.
640 John IV.
Constantine III,
Heracleonas,
Constans II. 641
642 Theodorus I.
649 Martin I.
654 Eugenius I.
657 Vitalianus.
Constantine IV (Pogonatus). 668
672 Adeodatus.
676 Domnus or Donus I.
678 Agatho.
682 Leo II.
683(?) Benedict II.
685 John V. Justinian II. 685
685(?) Conon.
687 Sergius I.
687 Paschal (Anti-pope).
687 Theodorus (Anti-pope).
Leontius. 694
Tiberius. 697
701 John VI.
705 John VII. Justinian II restored. 705
708 Sisinnius.
708 Constantine.
Philippicus Bardanes. 711
Anastasius II. 713
715 Gregory II.
Theodosius III. 716
Leo III (the Isaurian). 718
731 Gregory III.
741 Zacharias. Constantine V
(Copronymus). 741
752 Stephen (II).
752 Stephen II (or III).
757 Paul I.
767 Constantine (Anti-pope).
768 Stephen III (IV).
772 Hadrian I.
Leo IV. 775
Constantine VI. 780
795 Leo III.
Deposition of Constantine
VI by Irene. 797
Charles I (the Great). 800
(Following henceforth the
new Western line).
Lewis I (the Pious). 814
816 Stephen IV.
817 Paschal I.
824 Eugenius II.
827 Valentinus.
827 Gregory IV.
Lothar I. 840
844 Sergius II.
847 Leo IV.
855 Benedict III. Lewis II. 855
855 Anastasius (Anti-pope).
858 Nicholas I.
867 Hadrian II.
872 John VIII.
Charles II (the Bald). 875
Charles III (the Fat). 881
882 Martin II.
884 Hadrian III.
885 Stephen V.
891 Formosus. Guido. 891
Lambert. 894
896 Boniface VI. Arnulf. 896
896 Stephen VI.
897 Romanus.
897 Theodore II.
898 John IX.
Lewis (the Child).[+] 899
900 Benedict IV.
Lewis III (of Provence). 901
903 Leo V.
903 Christopher.
904 Sergius III.
911 Anastasius III.
Conrad I.[+] 912(?)
913 Lando.
914 John X.
Berengar. 915
Henry I (the Fowler).[+] 918
928 Leo VI.
929 Stephen VII.
931 John XI.
936 Leo VII. Otto I (the Great).[+] 936
939 Stephen VIII.
941 Martin III.
946 Agapetus II.
955 John XII.
Otto I, crowned at Rome. 962
963 Leo VIII.
964 Benedict V (Anti-Pope?).
965 John XIII.
972 Benedict VI.
Otto II. 973
974 Boniface VII (Anti-pope?).
974 Domnus II (?).
974 Benedict VII.
983 John XIV. Otto III 983
985 John XV.
996 Gregory V.
996 John XVI (Anti-pope).
999 Sylvester II.
Henry II (the Saint). 1002
1003 John XVII.
1003 John XVIII.
1009 Sergius IV.
1012 Benedict VIII.
1024 John XIX. Conrad II (the Salic). 1024
1033 Benedict IX.
Henry III. 1039
1044 Sylvester (Anti-pope).
1045( Gregory VI.
1046 Clement II.
1048 Damasus II.
1048 Leo IX.
1054 Victor II.
Henry IV. 1056
1057 Stephen IX.
1058 Benedict X.
1059 Nicholas II.
1061 Alexander II.
1073 Gregory VII (Hildebrand).
1080 (Clement, Anti-pope).
1086 Victor III.
1087 Urban II.
1099 Paschal II.
Henry V. 1106
1118 Gelasius II.
1118 Gregory, (Anti-pope).
1119 Calixtus II.
1121 (Celestine, Anti-pope).
1124 Honorius II.
Lothar II (the Saxon). 1125
1130 Innocent II.
(Anacletus, Anti-pope).
1138 Victor (Anti-pope). [*]Conrad III. 1138
1143 Celestine II.
1144 Lucius II.
1145 Eugenius III.
Frederick I (Barbarossa). 1152
1153 Anastasius IV.
1154 Hadrian IV.
1159 Alexander III.
1159 (Victor, Anti-pope).
1164 (Paschal, Anti-pope).
1168 (Calixtus, Anti-pope).
1181 Lucius III.
1185 Urban III.
1187 Gregory VIII.
1187 Clement III.
Henry VI. 1190
1191 Celestine III.
1198 Innocent III. [*]Philip, Otto IV
(rivals). 1198
Otto IV. 1208
Frederick II. 1212
1216 Honorius III.
1227 Gregory IX.
1241 Celestine IV.
1241 Vacancy.
1243 Innocent IV.
[*]Conrad IV, [*]William,
(rivals). 1250
1254 Alexander IV. Interregnum. 1254
[*]Richard (earl of
Cornwall).
[*]Alfonso (king of
Castile), (rivals). 1257
1261 Urban IV.
1265 Clement IV.
1269 Vacancy.
1271 Gregory X.
[*]Rudolf I (of Hapsburg). 1272
1276 Innocent V.
1276 Hadrian V.
1277 John XX or XXI.
1277 Nicholas I
1281 Martin IV.
1285 Honorius IV.
1289 Nicholas IV.
1292 Vacancy. [*]Adolf (of Nassau). 1292
1294 Celestine V.
1294 Boniface VIII.
[*]Albert I. 1298
1303 Benedict XI.
1305 Clement V.
Henry VII. 1308
1314 Vacancy. Lewis IV. 1315
(Frederick of Austria,
rival).
1316 John XXI or XXII.
1334 Benedict XII.
1342 Clement VI.
Charles IV. 1347
1352 Innocent VI. (Guenther of Schwartzburg,
rival).
1362 Urban | 3,139.850409 |
2023-11-16 19:09:24.6309960 | 4,065 | 54 |
Produced by David Reed and Dale R. Fredrickson
HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE
Edward Gibbon, Esq.
With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman
Vol. 6
1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)
Transcriber's Note
This is the sixth volume of the six volumes of Edward Gibbon's History
Of The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire. If you find any errors
please feel free to notify me of them. I want to make this the best
etext edition possible for both scholars and the general public. I
would like to thank those who have helped in making this text better.
Especially Dale R. Fredrickson who has hand entered the Greek characters
in the footnotes and who has suggested retaining the conjoined ae
character in the text. [email protected] and [email protected] are my
email addresses for now. Please feel free to send me your comments and I
hope you enjoy this.
David Reed
Chapter LIX: The Crusades.--Part I.
Preservation Of The Greek Empire.--Numbers, Passage, And
Event, Of The Second And Third Crusades.--St. Bernard.--
Reign Of Saladin In Egypt And Syria.--His Conquest Of
Jerusalem.--Naval Crusades.--Richard The First Of England.--
Pope Innocent The Third; And The Fourth And Fifth Crusades.--
The Emperor Frederic The Second.--Louis The Ninth Of
France; And The Two Last Crusades.--Expulsion Of The Latins
Or Franks By The Mamelukes.
In a style less grave than that of history, I should perhaps compare the
emperor Alexius [1] to the jackal, who is said to follow the steps, and
to devour the leavings, of the lion. Whatever had been his fears and
toils in the passage of the first crusade, they were amply recompensed
by the subsequent benefits which he derived from the exploits of the
Franks. His dexterity and vigilance secured their first conquest of
Nice; and from this threatening station the Turks were compelled to
evacuate the neighborhood of Constantinople. While the crusaders, with
blind valor, advanced into the midland countries of Asia, the crafty
Greek improved the favorable occasion when the emirs of the sea-coast
were recalled to the standard of the sultan. The Turks were driven from
the Isles of Rhodes and Chios: the cities of Ephesus and Smyrna, of
Sardes, Philadelphia, and Laodicea, were restored to the empire, which
Alexius enlarged from the Hellespont to the banks of the Maeander, and
the rocky shores of Pamphylia. The churches resumed their splendor: the
towns were rebuilt and fortified; and the desert country was peopled
with colonies of Christians, who were gently removed from the more
distant and dangerous frontier. In these paternal cares, we may forgive
Alexius, if he forgot the deliverance of the holy sepulchre; but, by
the Latins, he was stigmatized with the foul reproach of treason and
desertion. They had sworn fidelity and obedience to his throne; but _he_
had promised to assist their enterprise in person, or, at least, with
his troops and treasures: his base retreat dissolved their obligations;
and the sword, which had been the instrument of their victory, was the
pledge and title of their just independence. It does not appear that
the emperor attempted to revive his obsolete claims over the kingdom of
Jerusalem; [2] but the borders of Cilicia and Syria were more recent in
his possession, and more accessible to his arms. The great army of the
crusaders was annihilated or dispersed; the principality of Antioch
was left without a head, by the surprise and captivity of Bohemond; his
ransom had oppressed him with a heavy debt; and his Norman followers
were insufficient to repel the hostilities of the Greeks and Turks. In
this distress, Bohemond embraced a magnanimous resolution, of leaving
the defence of Antioch to his kinsman, the faithful Tancred; of arming
the West against the Byzantine empire; and of executing the design which
he inherited from the lessons and example of his father Guiscard.
His embarkation was clandestine: and, if we may credit a tale of the
princess Anne, he passed the hostile sea closely secreted in a coffin.
[3] But his reception in France was dignified by the public applause, and
his marriage with the king's daughter: his return was glorious, since
the bravest spirits of the age enlisted under his veteran command; and
he repassed the Adriatic at the head of five thousand horse and forty
thousand foot, assembled from the most remote climates of Europe. [4] The
strength of Durazzo, and prudence of Alexius, the progress of famine
and approach of winter, eluded his ambitious hopes; and the venal
confederates were seduced from his standard. A treaty of peace [5]
suspended the fears of the Greeks; and they were finally delivered by
the death of an adversary, whom neither oaths could bind, nor dangers
could appal, nor prosperity could satiate. His children succeeded to the
principality of Antioch; but the boundaries were strictly defined, the
homage was clearly stipulated, and the cities of Tarsus and Malmistra
were restored to the Byzantine emperors. Of the coast of Anatolia, they
possessed the entire circuit from Trebizond to the Syrian gates. The
Seljukian dynasty of Roum [6] was separated on all sides from the sea
and their Mussulman brethren; the power of the sultan was shaken by
the victories and even the defeats of the Franks; and after the loss of
Nice, they removed their throne to Cogni or Iconium, an obscure and in
land town above three hundred miles from Constantinople. [7] Instead of
trembling for their capital, the Comnenian princes waged an offensive
war against the Turks, and the first crusade prevented the fall of the
declining empire.
[Footnote 1: Anna Comnena relates her father's conquests in Asia Minor
Alexiad, l. xi. p. 321--325, l. xiv. p. 419; his Cilician war against
Tancred and Bohemond, p. 328--324; the war of Epirus, with tedious
prolixity, l. xii. xiii. p. 345--406; the death of Bohemond, l. xiv. p.
419.]
[Footnote 2: The kings of Jerusalem submitted, however, to a nominal
dependence, and in the dates of their inscriptions, (one is still
legible in the church of Bethlem,) they respectfully placed before
their own the name of the reigning emperor, (Ducange, Dissertations sur
Joinville xxvii. p. 319.)]
[Footnote 3: Anna Comnena adds, that, to complete the imitation, he was
shut up with a dead cock; and condescends to wonder how the Barbarian
could endure the confinement and putrefaction. This absurd tale is
unknown to the Latins. * Note: The Greek writers, in general, Zonaras,
p. 2, 303, and Glycas, p. 334 agree in this story with the princess
Anne, except in the absurd addition of the dead cock. Ducange has
already quoted some instances where a similar stratagem had been adopted
by _Norman_ princes. On this authority Wilken inclines to believe the
fact. Appendix to vol. ii. p. 14.--M.]
[Footnote 4: 'Apo QulhV in the Byzantine geography, must mean England;
yet we are more credibly informed, that our Henry I. would not suffer
him to levy any troops in his kingdom, (Ducange, Not. ad Alexiad. p.
41.)]
[Footnote 5: The copy of the treaty (Alexiad. l. xiii. p. 406--416) is
an original and curious piece, which would require, and might afford, a
good map of the principality of Antioch.]
[Footnote 6: See, in the learned work of M. De Guignes, (tom. ii. part
ii.,) the history of the Seljukians of Iconium, Aleppo, and Damascus,
as far as it may be collected from the Greeks, Latins, and Arabians. The
last are ignorant or regardless of the affairs of _Roum_.]
[Footnote 7: Iconium is mentioned as a station by Xenophon, and by
Strabo, with an ambiguous title of KwmopoliV, (Cellarius, tom. ii. p.
121.) Yet St. Paul found in that place a multitude (plhqoV) of Jews
and Gentiles. under the corrupt name of _Kunijah_, it is described as a
great city, with a river and garden, three leagues from the mountains,
and decorated (I know not why) with Plato's tomb, (Abulfeda, tabul.
xvii. p. 303 vers. Reiske; and the Index Geographicus of Schultens from
Ibn Said.)]
In the twelfth century, three great emigrations marched by land from the
West for the relief of Palestine. The soldiers and pilgrims of Lombardy,
France, and Germany were excited by the example and success of the
first crusade. [8] Forty-eight years after the deliverance of the holy
sepulchre, the emperor, and the French king, Conrad the Third and
Louis the Seventh, undertook the second crusade to support the falling
fortunes of the Latins. [9] A grand division of the third crusade was
led by the emperor Frederic Barbarossa, [10] who sympathized with his
brothers of France and England in the common loss of Jerusalem. These
three expeditions may be compared in their resemblance of the greatness
of numbers, their passage through the Greek empire, and the nature
and event of their Turkish warfare, and a brief parallel may save the
repetition of a tedious narrative. However splendid it may seem, a
regular story of the crusades would exhibit the perpetual return of the
same causes and effects; and the frequent attempts for the defence or
recovery of the Holy Land would appear so many faint and unsuccessful
copies of the original.
[Footnote 8: For this supplement to the first crusade, see Anna Comnena,
(Alexias, l. xi. p. 331, &c., and the viiith book of Albert Aquensis.)]
[Footnote 9: For the second crusade, of Conrad III. and Louis VII.,
see William of Tyre, (l. xvi. c. 18--19,) Otho of Frisingen, (l. i. c.
34--45 59, 60,) Matthew Paris, (Hist. Major. p. 68,) Struvius, (Corpus
Hist Germanicae, p. 372, 373,) Scriptores Rerum Francicarum a Duchesne
tom. iv.: Nicetas, in Vit. Manuel, l. i. c. 4, 5, 6, p. 41--48, Cinnamus
l. ii. p. 41--49.]
[Footnote 10: For the third crusade, of Frederic Barbarossa, see Nicetas
in Isaac Angel. l. ii. c. 3--8, p. 257--266. Struv. (Corpus. Hist. Germ.
p. 414,) and two historians, who probably were spectators, Tagino, (in
Scriptor. Freher. tom. i. p. 406--416, edit Struv.,) and the Anonymus de
Expeditione Asiatica Fred. I. (in Canisii Antiq. Lection. tom. iii. p.
ii. p. 498--526, edit. Basnage.)]
I. Of the swarms that so closely trod in the footsteps of the first
pilgrims, the chiefs were equal in rank, though unequal in fame and
merit, to Godfrey of Bouillon and his fellow-adventurers. At their
head were displayed the banners of the dukes of Burgundy, Bavaria, and
Aquitain; the first a descendant of Hugh Capet, the second, a father
of the Brunswick line: the archbishop of Milan, a temporal prince,
transported, for the benefit of the Turks, the treasures and ornaments
of his church and palace; and the veteran crusaders, Hugh the Great and
Stephen of Chartres, returned to consummate their unfinished vow. The
huge and disorderly bodies of their followers moved forward in two
columns; and if the first consisted of two hundred and sixty thousand
persons, the second might possibly amount to sixty thousand horse and
one hundred thousand foot. [11] [111] The armies of the second crusade might
have claimed the conquest of Asia; the nobles of France and Germany
were animated by the presence of their sovereigns; and both the rank and
personal character of Conrad and Louis gave a dignity to their cause,
and a discipline to their force, which might be vainly expected from the
feudatory chiefs. The cavalry of the emperor, and that of the king,
was each composed of seventy thousand knights, and their immediate
attendants in the field; [12] and if the light-armed troops, the peasant
infantry, the women and children, the priests and monks, be rigorously
excluded, the full account will scarcely be satisfied with four hundred
thousand souls. The West, from Rome to Britain, was called into action;
the kings of Poland and Bohemia obeyed the summons of Conrad; and it is
affirmed by the Greeks and Latins, that, in the passage of a strait
or river, the Byzantine agents, after a tale of nine hundred thousand,
desisted from the endless and formidable computation. [13] In the third
crusade, as the French and English preferred the navigation of the
Mediterranean, the host of Frederic Barbarossa was less numerous.
Fifteen thousand knights, and as many squires, were the flower of the
German chivalry: sixty thousand horse, and one hundred thousand foot,
were mustered by the emperor in the plains of Hungary; and after such
repetitions, we shall no longer be startled at the six hundred thousand
pilgrims, which credulity has ascribed to this last emigration. [14] Such
extravagant reckonings prove only the astonishment of contemporaries;
but their astonishment most strongly bears testimony to the existence
of an enormous, though indefinite, multitude. The Greeks might applaud
their superior knowledge of the arts and stratagems of war, but they
confessed the strength and courage of the French cavalry, and the
infantry of the Germans; [15] and the strangers are described as an iron
race, of gigantic stature, who darted fire from their eyes, and spilt
blood like water on the ground. Under the banners of Conrad, a troop of
females rode in the attitude and armor of men; and the chief of these
Amazons, from her gilt spurs and buskins, obtained the epithet of the
Golden-footed Dame.
[Footnote 11: Anne, who states these later swarms at 40,000 horse and
100,000 foot, calls them Normans, and places at their head two brothers
of Flanders. The Greeks were strangely ignorant of the names, families,
and possessions of the Latin princes.]
[Footnote 111: It was this army of pilgrims, the first body of which was
headed by the archbishop of Milan and Count Albert of Blandras, which
set forth on the wild, yet, with a more disciplined army, not impolitic,
enterprise of striking at the heart of the Mahometan power, by attacking
the sultan in Bagdad. For their adventures and fate, see Wilken, vol.
ii. p. 120, &c., Michaud, book iv.--M.]
[Footnote 12: William of Tyre, and Matthew Paris, reckon 70,000 loricati
in each of the armies.]
[Footnote 13: The imperfect enumeration is mentioned by Cinnamus,
(ennenhkonta muriadeV,) and confirmed by Odo de Diogilo apud Ducange ad
Cinnamum, with the more precise sum of 900,556. Why must therefore the
version and comment suppose the modest and insufficient reckoning of
90,000? Does not Godfrey of Viterbo (Pantheon, p. xix. in Muratori, tom.
vii. p. 462) exclaim?
----Numerum si poscere quaeras,
Millia millena militis agmen erat.]
[Footnote 14: This extravagant account is given by Albert of Stade,
(apud Struvium, p. 414;) my calculation is borrowed from Godfrey of
Viterbo, Arnold of Lubeck, apud eundem, and Bernard Thesaur. (c. 169, p.
804.) The original writers are silent. The Mahometans gave him 200,000,
or 260,000, men, (Bohadin, in Vit. Saladin, p. 110.)]
[Footnote 15: I must observe, that, in the second and third crusades,
the subjects of Conrad and Frederic are styled by the Greeks and
Orientals _Alamanni_. The Lechi and Tzechi of Cinnamus are the Poles
and Bohemians; and it is for the French that he reserves the ancient
appellation of Germans. He likewise names the Brittioi, or Britannoi. *
Note: * He names both--Brittioi te kai Britanoi.--M.]
II. The number and character of the strangers was an object of terror
to the effeminate Greeks, and the sentiment of fear is nearly allied
to that of hatred. This aversion was suspended or softened by the
apprehension of the Turkish power; and the invectives of the Latins will
not bias our more candid belief, that the emperor Alexius dissembled
their insolence, eluded their hostilities, counselled their rashness,
and opened to their ardor the | 3,140.651036 |
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_BIOGRAPHIES OF MUSICIANS._
LIFE OF WAGNER
BY
LOUIS NOHL
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY
GEORGE P. UPTON.
"_Who better than the poet can guide?_"
CHICAGO:
JANSEN, McCLURG & COMPANY.
1884.
BIOGRAPHIES OF MUSICIANS.
I.
LIFE OF MOZART, From the German of Dr. LOUIS NOHL. With Portrait.
Price $1.25.
II.
LIFE OF BEETHOVEN, From the German of Dr. LOUIS NOHL. With Portrait.
Price $1.25.
III.
LIFE OF HAYDN, From the German of Dr. LOUIS NOHL. With Portrait. Price
$1.25.
IV.
LIFE OF WAGNER, From the German of Dr. LOUIS NOHL. With Portrait.
Price $1.25.
JANSEN, McCLURG & CO., PUBLISHERS.
COPYRIGHT
BY JANSEN, McCLURG & CO.,
A. D. 1883.
[Illustration: RICHARD WAGNER.]
PREFACE.
The masters of music, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, advanced this
art beyond the limits of their predecessors by identifying themselves
more closely with the development of active life itself. By their
creative power they invested the life of the nation and mankind with
profounder thought, culminating at last in the most sublime of our
possessions--religion. No artist has followed in their course with
more determined energy than Richard Wagner, as well he might, for with
equal intellectual capacity, the foundation of his education was
broader and deeper than that of the classic masters; while on the
other hand the development of our national character during his long
active career, became more vigorous and diversified as the ideas of
the poets and thinkers were more and more realized and reflected in
our life. Wagner's development was as harmonious as that of the three
classic masters, and all his struggles, however violent at times, only
cleared his way to that high goal where we stand with him to-day and
behold the free unfolding of all our powers. This goal is the entire
combination of all the phases of art into one great work: the
music-drama, in which is mirrored every form of human existence up to
the highest ideal life. As this music-drama rests historically upon
the opera it is but natural that the second triumvirate of German
music should be composed of the founder of German opera, C. M. von
Weber, the reformer of the old opera, Christoph Wilibald Gluck, and
Richard Wagner. To trace therefore the development of the youngest of
these masters, will lead us to consider theirs as well, and in doing
this the knowledge of what he is will disclose itself to us.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE.
Just as this volume is going to press the announcement comes from
Germany that the prize offered by the Prague Concordia for the best
essay on "Wagner's Influence upon the National Art" has been adjudged
to Louis Nohl, an honor which will lend additional interest to this
little volume.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
WAGNER'S EARLY YOUTH.
His Birth--The Father's Death--His Mother Remarries--Removal
to Dresden--Theatre and Music--At School--Translation of
Homer--Through Poetry to Music--Returning to Leipzig--Beethoven's
Symphonies--Resolution to be a Musician--Conceals this
Resolution--Composes Music and Poetry--His Family distrusts his
Talent--"Romantic" Influences--Studies of Thoroughbass--Overture in
B major--Theodor Weinlig--Full Understanding of Mozart--Beethoven's
Influence--The Genius of German Art--Preparatory Studies ended 9-22
CHAPTER II.
STORM AND STRESS.
In Vienna--His Symphony Performed--Modern Ideas--"The
Fairies"--"Das Liebesverbot"--Becomes Kapellmeister--Mina
Planer--Hard Times--Experiences and Studies--"Rienzi"--Paris--First
Disappointments--A Faust Overture--Revival of the German
Genius--Struggle for Existence--"The Flying Dutchman"--Historical
Studies--Returning to Germany 22-44
CHAPTER III.
REVOLUTION IN LIFE AND ART.
Success and Recognition--Hofkapellmeister to the Saxon Court--New
Clouds--"Tannhaeuser" Misunderstood--The Myths of "The Flying
Dutchman" and "Tannhaeuser"--Aversion to Meyerbeer--The Religious
Element--"Lohengrin"--The Idea of "Lohengrin"--Wagner's
Revolutionary Sympathies--The Revolution of 1848--The Poetic Part
of "Siegfried's Death"--The Revolt in Dresden--Flight from
Dresden--"Siegfried Words." 45-72
CHAPTER IV.
EXILE.
Visit to Liszt--Flight to Foreign Lands--Three
Pamphlets--"Lohengrin" Performed--Wagner's Musical Ideas Expressed
in Words--Resumption of the Nibelungen Poem--The Idea of the
Poem--Its Religious Element--The First Music-Drama--In Zurich--New
Art Ideas--Increasing Fame--"Tristan and Isolde"--Analysis of this
Work--In Paris Again--The Amnesty--Tannhaeuser at the "Grand
Opera"--"Lohengrin" in Vienna--Resurrection of the "Mastersingers
of Nuremberg"--Final Return to Germany 73-105
CHAPTER V.
MUNICH.
Successful Concerts--Plans for a New Theatre--Offenbach's Music
Preferred--Concerts Again--New Hindrances and Disappointments--King
Louis of Bavaria--Rescue and Hope--New Life--Schnorr--"Tannhaeuser"
Reproduced--Great Performance of "Tristan"--Enthusiastic
Applause--Death of Schnorr--Opposition of the Munich Public--Unfair
Attacks upon Wagner--He goes to Switzerland--The
"Meistersinger"--The Rehearsals--The Successful
Performance--Criticisms 106-131
CHAPTER VI.
BAIREUTH.
A Vienna Critic--"Judaism in Music"--The War of 1870--Wagner's
Second Wife--"The Thought of Baireuth"--Wagner-Clubs--The "Kaiser
March"--Baireuth--Increasing Progress--Concerts--The Corner-Stone
of the New Theatre--The Inaugural Celebration--Lukewarmness of the
| 3,140.847091 |
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E-text prepared by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen, and Project Gutenberg
Distributed Proofreaders
THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
VOL. VII.--JANUARY, 1861.--NO. XXXIX.
WASHINGTON CITY.
Washington is the paradise of paradoxes,--a city of magnificent
distances, but of still more magnificent discrepancies. Anything may be
affirmed of it, everything denied. What it seems to be it is not; and
although it is getting to be what it never was, it must always remain
what it now is. It might be called a city, if it were not alternately
populous and uninhabited; and it would be a wide-spread village, if it
were not a collection of hospitals for decayed or callow politicians. It
is the hybernating-place of fashion, of intelligence, of vice,--a resort
without the attractions of waters either mineral or salt, where there is
no bathing and no springs, but drinking in abundance and gambling in
any quantity. Defenceless, as regards walls, redoubts, moats, or other
fortifications, it is nevertheless the Sevastopol of the Republic,
against which the allied army of Contractors and Claim-Agents
incessantly lay siege. It is a great, little, splendid, mean,
extravagant, poverty-stricken barrack for soldiers of fortune and
votaries of folly.
Scattered helter-skelter over an immense surface, cut up into scalene
triangles, the oddity of its plan makes Washington a succession of
surprises which never fail to vex and astonish the stranger, be he ever
so highly endowed as to the phrenological bump of locality. Depending
upon the hap-hazard start the ignoramus may chance to make, any
particular house or street is either nearer at hand or farther off than
the ordinary human mind finds it agreeable to believe. The first duty of
the new-comer is to teach his nether extremities to avoid instinctively
the hypothenuse of the street-triangulation, and the last lesson the
resident fails to learn is which of the shortcuts from point to point
is the least lengthy. Beyond a doubt, the corners of the streets were
constructed upon a cold and brutal calculation of the greatest possible
amount of oral sin which disappointed haste and irritated anxiety are
capable of committing; nor is any relief to the tendency to profanity
thus engendered afforded by the inexcusable nomenclature of the streets
and avenues,--a nomenclature in which the resources of the alphabet, the
arithmetic, the names of all the States of the Union, and the Presidents
as well, are exhausted with the most unsystematic profligacy. A man not
gifted with supernatural acuteness, in striving to get from Brown's
Hotel to the General Post-Office, turns a corner and suddenly finds
himself nowhere, simply because he is everywhere,--being at the instant
upon three separate streets and two distinct avenues. And, as a further
consequence of the scalene arrangement of things, it happens that the
stranger in Washington, however civic his birth and education may have
been, is always unconsciously performing those military evolutions
styled marching to the right or left oblique,--acquiring thereby, it is
said, that obliquity of the moral vision--which sooner or later afflicts
every human being who inhabits this strange, lop-sided city-village.
So queer, indeed, is Washington City in every aspect, that one
newly impressed by its incongruities is compelled to regard Swift's
description of Lilliputia and Sydney Smith's account of Australia as
poor attempts at fun. For, leaving out of view the pigmies of the former
place, whose like we know is never found in Congress, what is there in
that Australian bird with the voice of a jackass to excite the feeblest
interest in the mind of a man who has listened to the debates on Kansas?
or what marvel is an amphibian with the bill of a duck to him who has
gazed aghast at the intricate anatomy of the bill of English? It is true
that the ignorant Antipodes, with a total disregard of all theories of
projectiles, throw their boomerangs behind their backs in order to kill
an animal that stands or runs before their faces, or skim them along
the ground when they would destroy an object flying overhead. And these
feats seem curious. But an accomplished "Constitutional Adviser" can
perform feats far more surprising with a few lumps of coal or a number
of ships-knees, which are but boomerangs of a larger growth. Another has
invented the deadliest of political missiles, (in their recoil,) shaped
like mules and dismantled forts, while a third has demolished the
Treasury with a simple miscalculation. Still more astonishing are the
performances of an eminent functionary who encourages polygamy by
intimidation, purchases redress for national insult by intercepting his
armies and fleets with an apology in the mouth of a Commissioner, and
elevates the Republic in the eyes of mankind by conquering at Ostend
even less than he has lost at the Executive Mansion.
In truth, the list of Washington anomalies is so extensive and so
various, that no writer with a proper regard for his own reputation or
his readers' credulity would dare enumerate them one by one. Without
material injury to the common understanding, a few may be mentioned; but
respect for public opinion would urge that the enormous whole be summed
up in the comparatively safe and respectful assertion, that the one only
absolutely certain thing in Washington is the absence of everything
that is at all permanent. The following are some of the more obnoxious
astonishments of the place.
Traversing a rocky prairie inflated with hacks, you arrive late in the
afternoon at a curbed boundary, too fatigued in body and too suffocated
with dust to resent the insult to your common-sense implied in the
announcement that you have merely crossed what is called an Avenue.
Recovered from your fatigue, you ascend the steps of a marble palace,
and enter but to find it garrisoned by shabby regiments armed with
quills and steel pens. The cells they inhabit are gloomy as dungeons,
but furnished like parlors. Their business is to keep everybody's
accounts but their own. They are of all ages, but of a uniformly
dejected aspect. Do not underrate their value. Mr. Bulwer has said,
that, in the hands of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the
sword. Suffer yourself to be astonished at their numbers, but permit
yourself to withdraw from their vicinity without questioning too closely
their present utility or future destination. No personal affront to the
public or the nineteenth century is intended by the superfluity of their
numbers or the inadequacy of their capacities. Their rapid increase is
attributable not to any incestuous breeding in-and-in among themselves,
but to a violent seduction of the President and the Heads of Department
by importunate Congressmen; and you may rest assured that this criminal
multiplication fills nobody with half so much righteous indignation and
virtuous sorrow as the clerks themselves. Emerging from the palace of
quill-drivers, a new surprise awaits you. The palace is surmounted by
what appear to be gigantic masts and booms, economically, but strongly
rigged, and without any sails. In the distance, you see other palaces
rigged in the same manner. The effect of this spectacle is painful in
the extreme. Standing dry-shod as the Israelites were while crossing the
Red Sea, you nevertheless seem to be in the midst of a small fleet of
unaccountable sloops of the Saurian period. You question whether these
are not the fabulous "Ships of State" so often mentioned in the elegant
oratory of your country. You observe that these ships are anchored in an
ocean of pavement, and your no longer trustworthy eyes search vainly
for their helms. The nearest approach to a rudder is a chimney or an
unfinished pillar; the closest resemblance to a pilot is a hod-carrying
workman clambering up a gangway. Dismissing the nautical hypothesis,
your next effort to relieve your perplexity results in the conjecture
that the prodigious masts and booms may be nothing more than curious
gibbets, the cross-pieces to which, conforming rigidly to the Washington
rule of contrariety, are fastened to the bottom instead of the top of
the upright. Your theory is, that the destinies of the nation are to be
hanged on these monstrous gibbets, and you wonder whether the laws of
gravitation will be complaisant enough to turn upside down for the
accommodation of the hangman, whoever he may be. It is not without
pain that you are forced at last to the commonplace belief that these
remarkable mountings of the Public Buildings are neither masts nor
booms, but simply derricks,--mechanical contrivances for the lifting of
very heavy weights. It is some consolation, however, to be told that
the weakness of these derricks has never been proved by the endeavor
to elevate by means of them the moral character of the inhabitants of
Washington. Content yourself, after a reasonable delay for natural
wonderment, to leave the strange scene. This shipping-like aspect of the
incomplete Departments is only a nice architectural tribute to the fact
that the population of Washington is a floating population. This you
will not be long in finding out. The oldest inhabitants are here to-day
and gone tomorrow, as punctually, if not as poetically, as the Arabs of
Mr. Longfellow. A few remain,--parasitic growths, clinging tenaciously
to the old haunts. Like tartar on the teeth, they are proof against the
hardest rubs of the tooth-brush of Fortune.
As with the people, so with the houses. Though they retain their
positions, seldom abandoning the ground on which they were originally
built, they change almost hourly their appearance and their
uses,--insomuch that the very solids of the city seem fluid, and even
the stables are mutable,--the horse-house of last week being an office
for the sale of patents, or periodicals, or lottery-tickets, this week,
with every probability of becoming an oyster-cellar, a billiard-saloon,
a cigar-store, a barber's shop, a bar-room, or a faro-bank, next week.
And here is another astonishment. You will observe that the palatial
museums for the temporary preservation of fossil or fungous penmen join
walls, virtually, with habitations whose architecture would reflect
no credit on the most curious hamlet in tide-water Virginia. To your
amazement, you learn that all these houses, thousands in number, are
boarding-houses. Of course, where everybody is a stranger, nobody
keeps house. It would be pardonable to suppose, that, out of so many
boarding-houses, some would be in reality what they are in name. Nothing
can be farther from the fact. These houses contain apartments more or
less cheerless and badly furnished, according to the price (always
exorbitant, however small it may be) demanded for them, and are devoted
exclusively to the storage of empty bottles and demijohns, to large
boxes of vegetable- and flower-seeds, to great piles of books, speeches,
and documents not yet directed to people who will never read them, and
to an abominable odor of boiling cabbages. This odor steals in from
a number of pitch-dark tunnels and shafts, misnamed passages and
staircases, in which there are more books, documents, and speeches,
other boxes of seeds, and a still stronger odor of cabbages. The piles
of books are traps set here for the benefit of the setters of broken
legs and the patchers of skinless shins, and the noisome odors are
propagated for the advantage of gentlemen who treat diseases of the
larynx and lungs.
It would appear, then, that the so-called boarding-houses are, in point
of fact, private gift-book stores, or rather, commission-houses for the
receiving and forwarding of a profusion of undesirable documents and
vegetations. You may view them also in the light of establishments for
the manufacture and distribution of domestic perfumery, payment for
which is never exacted at the moment of its involuntary purchase, but is
left to be collected by a doctor,--who calls upon you during the winter,
levies on you with a lancet, and distrains upon your viscera with a
compound cathartic pill.
It is claimed, that, in addition to the victims who pay egregious rents
for boarding-house beds in order that they may have a place to store
their documents and demi-johns, there are other permanent occupants of
these houses. As, for example, Irish chambermaids, who subtract a few
moments from the morning half-hour given to drinking the remnants of
your whiskey, and devote them to cleaning up your room. Also a very
strange being, peculiar to Washington boarding-houses, who is never
visible at any time, and is only heard stumbling up-stairs about four
o'clock in the morning. Also beldames of incalculable antiquity,--a
regular allowance of one to each boarding-house,--who flit noiselessly
and unceasingly about the passages and up and down the stairways,
admonishing you of their presence by a ghostly sniffle, which always
frightens you, and prevents you from running into them and knocking them
down. For these people, it is believed, a table is set in the houses
where the boarders proper flatter their acquaintances that they sleep.
It must be so, for the entire male population is constantly eating in
the oyster-cellars. Indeed, if ocular evidence may be relied on, the
best energies of the metropolis are given to the incessant consumption
of "half a dozen raw," or "four fried and a glass of ale." The bar-rooms
and eating-houses are always full or in the act of becoming full. By a
fatality so unerring that it has ceased to be wonderful, it happens that
you can never enter a Washington restaurant and find it partially empty,
without being instantly followed by a dozen or two of bipeds as hungry
and thirsty as yourself, who crowd up to the bar and destroy half the
comfort you derive from your lunch or your toddy.
But, although, everybody is forever eating oysters and drinking ale in
myriads of subterranean holes and corners, nobody fails to eat at other
places more surprising and original than any you have yet seen. In all
other cities, people eat at home or at a hotel or an eating-house; in
Washington they eat at bank. But they do not eat money,--at least, not
in the form of bullion, or specie, or notes. These Washington banks,
unlike those of London, Paris, and New York, are open mainly at night
and all night long, are situated invariably in the second story, guarded
as jealously as any seraglio, and admit nobody but strangers,--that is
to say, everybody in Washington. This is singular. Still more singular
is the fact, that the best food, served in the most exquisite manner,
and (with sometimes a slight variation) the choicest wines and cigars,
may be had at these banks free of cost, except to those who choose
voluntarily to remunerate the banker by purchasing a commodity as costly
and almost as worthless as the articles sold at ladies' fairs,--upon
which principle, indeed, the Washington banks are conducted. The
commodity alluded to is in the form of small discs of ivory, called
"chips" or "cheeks" or "shad" or "skad," and the price varies from
twenty-five cents to a hundred dollars per "skad."
It is expected that every person who opens an account at bank by eating
a supper there shall buy a number of "shad," but not with the view of
taking them home to show to his wife and children. Yet it is not an
uncommon thing for persons of a stingy and ungrateful disposition to
spend most of their time in these benevolent institutions without ever
spending so much as a dollar for "shad," but eating, drinking, and
smoking, and particularly drinking, to the best of their ability. This
reprehensible practice is known familiarly in Washington as "bucking
ag'inst the sideboard," and is thought by some to be the safest mode of
doing business at bank.
The presiding officer is never called President. He is called
"Dealer,"--perhaps from the circumstance of his dealing in ivory,--and
is not looked up to and worshipped as the influential man of
banking-houses is generally. On. the contrary, he is for the most part
condemned by his best customers, whose heart's desire and prayer are to
break his bank and ruin him utterly.
Seeing the multitude of boarding-houses, oyster-cellars, and
ivory-banks, you may suppose there are no hotels in Washington. You are
mistaken. There are plenty of hotels, many of them got up on the scale
of magnificent distances that prevails everywhere, and somewhat on the
maritime plan of the Departments. Outwardly, they look like colossal
docks, erected for the benefit of hacks, large fleets of which you will
always find moored under their lee, safe from the monsoon that prevails
on the open sea of the Avenue. Inwardly, they are labyrinths, through
whose gloomy mazes it is impossible to thread your way without the
assistance of an Ariadne's clue in the shape of an Irishman panting
under a trunk. So obscure and involved are the hotel-interiors, that it
would be madness for a stranger to venture in search of his room without
the guidance of some one far more familiar with the devious course of
the narrow clearings through the forest of apartments than the landlord
himself. Now and then a reckless and adventurous proprietor undertakes
to make a day's journey alone through his establishment. He is never
heard of afterwards,--or, if found, is discovered in a remote angle or
loft, in a state of insensibility from bewilderment and starvation.
If it were not for an occasional <DW64>, who, instigated by charitable
motives or love of money, slouches about from room to room with an empty
coal-scuttle as an excuse for his intrusions, a gentleman stopping at a
Washington hotel would be doomed to certain death. In fact, the lives of
all the guests hang upon a thread, or rather, a wire; for, if the bell
should fail to answer, there would be no earthly chance of getting into
daylight again. It is but reasonable to suppose that the wires to many
rooms have been broken in times past, and it is well known in Washington
that these rooms are now tenanted by skeletons of hapless travellers
whose relatives and friends never doubted that they had been kidnapped
or had gone down in the Arctic.
The differential calculus by which all Washington is computed obtains at
the hotels as elsewhere, with this peculiarity,--that the differences
are infinitely great, instead of infinitely small. While the fronts are
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Literature (online soon in an extended version, also linking
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by the Internet Archive.
Philosophical Letters:
OR,
MODEST REFLECTIONS
Upon some Opinions in
_NATURAL PHILOSOPHY_,
MAINTAINED
By several Famous and Learned Authors of this Age,
Expressed by way of LETTERS:
By the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, and Excellent Princess,
The Lady MARCHIONESS of _NEWCASTLE_.
_LONDON_, Printed in the Year, 1664.
TO HER EXCELLENCY
The Lady Marchioness of NEWCASTLE
On her Book of Philosophical Letters.
_'Tis Supernatural, nay 'tis Divine,
To write whole Volumes ere I can a line.
I'mplor'd the Lady Muses, those fine things,
But they have broken all their Fidle-strings
And cannot help me; Nay, then I did try
Their_ Helicon, _but that is grown all dry:_
_Then on_ Parnassus _I did make a sallie,
But that's laid level, like a Bowling-alley;
Invok'd my Muse, found it a Pond, a Dream,
To your eternal Spring, and running Stream;
So clear and fresh, with Wit and Phansie store,
As then despair did bid me write no more._
W. Newcastle.
TO HIS EXCELLENCY
The Lord Marquis of NEWCASTLE.
My Noble Lord,
Although you have, always encouraged me in my harmless pastime of
Writing, yet was I afraid that your Lordship would be angry with
me for Writing and Publishing this Book, by reason it is a Book
of Controversies, of which I have heard your Lordship say, That
Controversies and Disputations make Enemies of Friends, and that such
Disputations and Controversies as these, are a pedantical kind of
quarrelling, not becoming Noble Persons. But your Lordship will be
pleased to consider in my behalf, that it is impossible for one Person
to be of every one's Opinion, if their opinions be different, and that
my Opinions in Philosophy, being new, and never thought of, at least
not divulged by any, but my self, are quite different from others: For
the Ground of my Opinions is, that there is not onely a Sensitive, but
also a Rational Life and Knowledge, and so a double Perception in all
Creatures: And thus my opinions being new, are not so easily understood
as those, that take up several pieces of old opinions, of which
they patch up a new Philosophy, (if new may be made of old things,)
like a Suit made up of old Stuff bought at the Brokers: Wherefore to
find out a Truth, at least a Probability in Natural Philosophy by a
new and different way from other Writers, and to make this way more
known, easie and intelligible, I was in a manner forced to write this
Book; for I have not contradicted those Authors in any thing, but
what concerns and is opposite to my opinions; neither do I anything,
but what they have done themselves, as being common amongst them to
contradict each other: which may as well be allowable, as for Lawyers
to plead at the Barr in opposite Causes. For as Lawyers are not Enemies
to each other, but great Friends, all agreeing from the Barr, although
not at the Barr: so it is with Philosophers, who make their Opinions
as their Clients, not for Wealth, but for Fame, and therefore have no
reason to become Enemies to each other, by being Industrious in their
Profession. All which considered, was the cause of Publishing this
Book; wherein although I dissent from their opinions, yet doth not this
take off the least of the respect and esteem I have of their Merits
and Works. But if your Lordship do but pardon me, I care not if I be
condemned by others; for your Favour is more then the World to me, for
which all the actions of my Life shall be devoted and ready to serve
you, as becomes,
My Lord,
_Your Lordships_
_honest Wife, and humble Servant_,
M. N.
TO THE MOST FAMOUS UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.
Most Noble, Ingenious, Learned, and Industrious Students.
_Be not offended, that I dedicate to you this weak and infirm work of
mine; for though it be not an offering worthy your acceptance, yet it
is as much as I can present for this time; and I wish from my Soul, I
might be so happy as to have some means or ways to express my Gratitude
for your Magnificent favours to me, having done me more honour then
ever I could expect, or give sufficient thanks for: But your Generosity
is above all Gratitude, and your Favours above all Merit, like as your
Learning is above Contradiction: And I pray God your University may
flourish to the end of the World, for the Service of the Church, the
Truth of Religion, the Salvation of Souls, the instruction of Youth,
the preservation of Health, and prolonging of Life, and for the
increase of profitable Arts and Sciences: so as your several studies
may be, like several Magistrates, united for the good and benefit of
the whole Common-wealth, nay, the whole World. May Heaven prosper you,
the World magnifie you, and Eternity record your same; Which are the
hearty wishes and prayers of,_
Your most obliged Servant
_M. NEWCASTLE._
A PREFACE TO THE READER.
_Worthy Readers_,
I did not write this Book out of delight, love or humour to
contradiction; for I would rather praise, then contradict any Person
or Persons that are ingenious; but by reason Opinion is free, and may
pass without a pass-port, I took the liberty to declare my own opinions
as other Philosophers do, and to that purpose I have here set down
several famous and learned Authors opinions, and my answers to them in
the form of Letters, which was the easiest way for me to write; and by
so doing, I have done that, which I would have done unto me; for I am
as willing to have my opinions contradicted, as I do contradict others:
for I love Reason so well, that whosoever can bring most rational
and probable arguments, shall have my vote, although against my own
opinion. But you may say, If contradictions were frequent, there would
be no agreement amongst Mankind. I answer; it is very true: Wherefore
Contradictions are better in general Books, then in particular
Families, and in Schools better then in Publick States, and better in
Philosophy then in Divinity. All which considered, I shun, as much as I
can, not to discourse or write of either Church or State. But I desire
so much favour, or rather | 3,141.053751 |
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Produced by David E. Brown, Brian Coe and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
DAY BY DAY WITH
THE RUSSIAN ARMY
1914-15
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR.]
DAY BY DAY WITH
THE RUSSIAN ARMY
1914-15
BY
BERNARD PARES
_Official British Observer with the Russian Armies in the Field_
_WITH MAPS_
LONDON
CONSTABLE & COMPANY LTD.
1915
TO
NICHOLAS AND MARY HOMYAKOV
Tidings from the Tsar of Germans,
Tidings to the Russian Tsar.
"I will come and break your Russia,
And in Russia I will live."
Moody was the Russian Tsar,
As he paced the Moscow street.
"Be not moody, Russian Tsar,
Russia we will never yield.
"Gather, gather, Russian hosts;
William shall our captive be.
"Cross the far Carpathian mountains;
March through all the German towns."
_Marching Song of the Third Army._
PREFACE
For the last ten years or more I have paid long visits to Russia, being
interested in anything that might conduce to closer relations between
the two countries. During this time the whole course of Russia's public
life has brought her far nearer to England--in particular, the creation
of new legislative institutions, the wonderful economic development of
the country, and the first real acquaintance which England has made
with Russian culture. I always travelled to Russia through Germany,
whose people had an inborn unintelligence and contempt for all things
Russian, and whose Government has done what it could to hold England
and Russia at arm's length from each other. I often used to wonder
which of us Germany would fight first.
When Germany declared war on Russia, I volunteered for service, and was
arranging to start for Russia when we, too, were involved in the war. I
arrived there some two weeks afterwards, and after a stay in Petrograd
and Moscow was asked to take up the duty of official correspondent with
the Russian army. It was some time before I was able to go to the army,
and at first only in company of some twelve others with officers of
the General Staff who were not yet permitted to take us to the actual
front. We, however, visited Galicia and Warsaw, and saw a good deal of
the army. After these journeys I was allowed to join the Red Cross
organisation with the Third Army as an attaché of an old friend, Mr.
Michael Stakhovich, who was at the head of this organisation; and there
General Radko Dmitriev, whom I had known earlier, kindly gave me a
written permit to visit any part of the firing line; my Red Cross work
was in transport and the forward hospitals. My instructions did not
include telegraphing, and my diary notes, though dispatched by special
messengers, necessarily took a month or more to reach England; but I
had the great satisfaction of sharing in the life of the army, where
I was entertained with the kindest hospitality and invited to see and
take part in anything that was doing.
The Third Army was at the main curve in the Russian front, the point
where the German and Austrian forces joined hands. It was engaged in
the conquest of Galicia, and on its fortunes, more perhaps than on
those of any other army on either front, might depend the issue of
the whole campaign. We were the advance guard of the liberation of
the Slavs, and to us was falling the rôle of separating Austria from
Germany, or, what is the same thing in more precise terms, separating
Hungary from Prussia. I had the good fortune to have many old friends
in this area. My work in hospitals and the permission to interrogate
prisoners at the front gave me the best view that one could have of
the process of political and military disintegration which was and is
at work in the Austrian empire. I took part in the advanced transport
work of the Red Cross, visited in detail the left and right flanks of
the army, and went to the centre just at the moment when the enemy
fell with overwhelming force of artillery on this part. I retreated
with the army to the San and to the province of Lublin. My visits to
the actual front had in each case a given object--usually to form a
judgment on some question on which depended the immediate course of the
campaign.
I am now authorised to publish my more public communications, including
my diary notes with the Third Army. I am also obliged to the _Liverpool
Daily Post and Mercury_ for leave to reprint my note of September 1914
on Moscow. I think it will be seen that if we lost Galicia we lost it
well, and that the moral superiority remained and remains on our side
throughout. We were driven out by sheer weight of metal, but our troops
turned at every point to show that the old relations of man to man
were unchanged. The diary of an Austrian officer who was several times
opposite to me will, I think, make this clear. When Russia has half
the enemy's material equipment we know, and he does, that we shall be
travelling in the opposite direction.
It was a delight to be with these splendid men. I never saw anything
base all the while that I was with the army. There was no drunkenness;
every one was at his best, and it was the simplest and noblest
atmosphere in which I have ever lived.
BERNARD PARES.
DAY BY DAY WITH THE RUSSIAN ARMY
_July-August 1914._
While the war cloud was breaking, I was close to my birthplace at
Dorking with my father, whom I was not to see again. Though eighty-one
years old he was in his full vigour of heart, mind and body, and we
were motoring every day among the beautiful Surrey hills. He had had a
great life of work for others, born just after the first Reform Bill
which his own father had helped to carry through the House of Commons,
and stamped with the robust faith and vigour of the great generation
of the Old Liberals. Like every other interest of his children, he had
always followed with the fullest participation my own work in Russia,
and I had everything packed for my yearly visit there. In London I had
had short visits from Mr. Protopopov, a liberal Russian publicist,
and later from the eminent leader of Polish public life, Mr. Dmowski,
than whom I know no better political head in Europe. Both had expected
war for years past, but neither had any idea how close it was. Mr.
Protopopov was absorbed in a study of English town planning and Mr.
Dmowski was correcting the proofs of his last article for my _Russian
Review_, which he ended with the words, "The time is not yet." He
came down and motored with us through what he called "the paradise of
trees"--and Poland itself has some of the finest trees in Europe; and
my father was keenly interested in his hopes for the future of Poland.
He was going to the English seaside when events called him back to an
adventurous journey across Europe, in the course of which he was twice
arrested in Germany, the second time in company of his old political
opponent, the reactionary Russian Minister of Education, the late Mr.
Kasso. To them a German Polish sentry said that as a Pole he wished for
the victory of Russia, for "though the Russian made himself unpleasant,
the _Schwab_ (Swabian or German) was far more dangerous."
When I read Austria's demands on Serbia, I felt that it must mean a
European war, and that we should have to take part in it. I remember
the ordinary traveller in a London hotel explaining to me how
infinitely more important the Ulster question was than the Serbian.
It was clear that the really mischievous factor was the simultaneous
official and public support of Germany, who claimed to draw an
imaginary line around the Austro-Serbian conflict and threatened war to
any one who interfered in the war. I had long realised the humbug of
pretending that Austria was anything distinct from or independent of
Germany; and the claim of the two to settle in their own favour one of
the most thorny questions in Europe could never be tolerated by Russia.
The Bosnian withdrawal of 1909 would, I knew, never be repeated, least
of all by the Russian Emperor. The line had been crossed; it was
"mailed fist" once too often.
Serbia's reply showed the extreme calm and circumspection both of
Serbia and of Russia. Then came in quick succession the great days,
when every one's political horizon was daily forced wider, when
all the home squabbles of the different countries--the Caillaux
case, the Russian labour troubles, and the Irish conflict, on which
Germany had counted so much--were hurrying back as fast as possible
into their proper background. There was a significant catch when
the Austro-Russian conversations were renewed, and Germany, who had
now come out in her true leadership, went forward to the forcing of
war. The absurd inconsequences of German diplomacy reached their
extraordinary culmination in the actual declaration to Russia. To make
sure of war, the German ambassador in St. Petersburg received for
delivery a formal declaration with alternative wordings suitable to any
answer which Russia might give to the German ultimatum; and this genial
diplomatist delivered the draft with _both_ alternative wordings to the
Russian Foreign Minister, Mr. Sazonov. It is the last communication
printed in the Russian Orange Book.
The question was, how soon we should all see it. The news of the
German declaration was in the English Sunday papers. Many English
clergymen see virtue in not reading Sunday papers. I went to church.
The clergyman began his sermon: "They tell me that the Sunday papers
assert that Germany has declared war on Russia." Not a very promising
beginning, but England was there the next minute. "If this is true,"
he went on, "and if we come into it, as we shall have to, we stand at
the end of the long period when we have been spoiling ourselves with
riches and comfort and forgetting what it is to make sacrifices"; and
there followed an impromptu but very clear forecast of what was to be
asked of us.
No one will forget the great days of probation, when each great country
in turn was called on to stand and give whatever it had of the best.
Russia was what one had felt sure that she would be. The Emperor's
pledge not to make peace while a German soldier was in Russia, was an
exact repetition of the words of Alexander I, but given this time at
the very beginning of the war. The wonderful scene before the Winter
Palace showed sovereign and people at one; and the wrecking of the
German Embassy was an answer of the Russian workmen to an active
propaganda of discontent that had issued from its walls. Next came
France's turn, her remarkable coolness and discretion, and the outburst
of patriotic devotion which the President of the Chamber voiced in the
words, "Lift up your hearts" (_Haut les coeurs_). Then the turn of
the Belgians, king and people, and their splendid and simple devotion.
And now it was for us to speak.
I believed that we were sure to come into the war, but it was three
days of waiting and the invasion of Belgium that gave us a united
England. The Germans did our job for us. It was a quick conversion
for those who hesitated; one day, neutrality to be saved; the next,
neutrality past saving; the next, war, and war to the end. When we were
waiting before the post office for Sir Edward Grey's speech, every one
was asking, "Have they done the right thing?" This was the atmosphere
of the London streets on the night that we declared war. We all lived
on a few very simple thoughts. It was clear that there must be endless
losses and many cruel inventions, but just as clear not only that we
had to win but that, if we were not failing to ourselves, we were sure
to.
I was in London before our declaration to ask what I could do, and was
now making my last preparations for starting. The squalor of the great
city had taken the aspect of a dingy ironclad at work. At the Bank of
England, where payment could still be claimed in gold, I was asked the
object of my journey. No one seemed to know about routes except Cook &
Son. In the country the mobilisation passed us silent and unnoticed,
except for the aeroplanes which we saw streaming southwards. I saw my
father in his garden for the last time, went to London, and there, in
a confusion of little things and big, with a taxi piled in haste with
parcels of the most various nature and ownership, hurried to King's
Cross, bundled into a full third-class carriage and started for Russia.
_August 21._
At King's Cross I was already almost in Russia. The sixty or so
Russians who had come to the Dental Congress in London, after one
sitting had been caught by the war. Their English hosts looked after
them splendidly, and they themselves pooled the supplies of money
which they happened to have on them. There were also several members
of the Russian ballet, and other Russians on their way from Italy,
Switzerland and France, going via Norway and Sweden to St. Petersburg.
Our route of itself was a striking illustration of the great military
advantage possessed by Germany and Austria. With its interior lines of
communication, the great German punching machine could measure its
forces to any blow which it wished to deal on either side, while for
any contact with each other the Allies had to crawl right round the
circumference. For this military advantage, however, the aggressors
had sacrificed in the most evident way all political considerations.
In a quarrel which Austria had picked with Serbia, Germany forced war
on Russia for daring to mobilise. Germany made an ultimatum to France
at the same time, so as to make war with both countries simultaneously
and give herself time to crush France before Russia could help her. For
greater speed against France, she invaded neutral Belgium, thus making
England an enemy and Italy a neutral. The absurdity became apparent
when, with all this done, we were still waiting for the completion of
the Russian mobilisation which was the nominal cause of the European
War. Hence the union of so many peoples; but for all that the military
advantage remained. It was as if Europe had the stomach ache, with
shooting pains in all directions.
[Illustration: Centre versus CIRCUMFERENCE.
(_to illustrate the journeys of members of our party._)]
I asked a friend in the train what might be the state of mind of the
Emperor William. He replied by quoting the answer of an Irishman: "He's
probably thinking, Is there any one that I've left out?"
At Newcastle, the Norwegian steamer had booked at least forty more
passengers than it could berth. I only got on to the boat by a special
claim and had to sleep in a passage with my things scattered round me.
All the corridors were taken up in this way. The Russians are admirable
fellow-passengers: they had organised themselves informally under a
natural leader into a great family. One corridor was set apart for a
night nursery. The women received special consideration, and any one
who had a berth was ready to give it up to them. One Russian, thinking
I was ill, offered me his. I was ensconced with my back to the wall
at the head of a staircase, and they would stop to chat as they went
up or down. They had been greatly impressed by the spirit in England:
the Englishman they regarded as a civil fellow who had better not be
provoked, for if he was he would get to business at once and not look
back till it was finished. They spoke very simply of themselves and
of their little failings, and said that for this reason it was the
greatest comfort to have England with them. What had impressed them
most was the calm and vigour with which we had faced our financial
crisis. They had seen some of our territorial troops, whom they classed
very high for physique and spirit. They had much to tell one of France
and Italy, and also of insults offered to them or their friends when
leaving Germany. There were outbursts of sheer hooliganism marked with
a sort of brutal contempt for Russians, and one lady, they said, had
the earrings torn out of her ears. Their humanity was shocked by all
this. They had nothing but condemnation for anything of the kind, from
whatever side it came, and they were quite ready to criticise their own
people or ours wherever there was any ground for doing so.
The captain said to me, "We sail under the protection of England." We
were stopped once by an English warship, but only for a few minutes. At
Bergen I found new fellow-passengers, and after an evening which was
a succession of fiords, lakes, rocky heights and white villages, we
passed by a wonderfully engineered railway over the snow level and down
to Kristiania. The Norwegians were friendly and sympathetic, the Swedes
courteous but reserved. There had recently been unveiled a frontier
monument showing two brothers shaking hands; and one felt that the one
country would not move without the other.
Between Kristiania and Stockholm I wrote an article on the Poles, and
directly afterwards, puzzling out a Swedish newspaper, I read the
manifesto of the Grand Duke Nicholas. We had with us Poles who were
travelling right round to Warsaw. From Stockholm the more apprehensive
members of our party went | 3,141.054037 |
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Produced by Avinash Kothare, Juliet Sutherland, Charles
Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. This
file was produced from images generously made available
by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions.
HTML version by Al Haines.
OWINDIA:
_A TRUE TALE OF THE MACKENZIE RIVER INDIANS_,
NORTH-WEST AMERICA.
By Charlotte Selina Bompas
THE STORY OF OWINDIA.
A pretty open spot on the bank of the Great Mackenzie River was the
place where Owindia first saw light. One of the universal pine
forests formed the back ground, while low shrubs and willows, with a
pleasant, green carpet of mossy grass, were the immediate
surroundings of the camp.
The banks of the Mackenzie often rise to a height of sixty feet
above the river. This was the case in the spot where Michel the
Hunter had pitched his tent, or "lodge" as it is called. A number of
other Indians were camped near, led thither by the fish which is so
abundant in our Northern rivers, and which proves a seldom failing
resource when the moose or reindeer go off their usual track. The
woods also skirting the river furnish large supplies of rabbits,
which even the Indian children are taught to snare. Beavers too are
most numerous in this district, and are excellent food, while their
furs are an important article of trade with the Hudson Bay Company;
bringing to the poor Indian his much prized luxury of tea or tobacco,
a warm blanket or ammunition. As the Spring comes on the women of the
camps will be busy making "sirop" from the birch trees, and dressing
the skins of moose or deer which their husbands have killed in the
chase. There are also the canoes to be made or repaired for use
whenever the eight months' fetters of ice shall give way.
Thus we see the Indian camps offer a pleasant spectacle of a
contented and busy people; and if they lack the refinement and
luxuries of more civilized communities, they have at all events this
advantage,--they have never learnt to need them.
Michel, the Indian, was a well-skilled, practised hunter. Given a
windy day, a good depth of snow, and one or two moose tracks on its
fair surface, and there was not much chance of the noble beast's
escape from Michel's swift tread and steady aim. Such is the
excitement of moose-hunting; and such the intense acuteness of the
moose-deer's sense of smell and hearing, that an Indian hunter will
often strip himself of every bit of clothing, and creep stealthily
along on his snow-shoes, lest by the slightest sound he should betray
his presence, and allow his prey to escape. And Michel was as skilled
a trapper as he was hunter; from the plump little musk-rat which he
caught by the river brink to the valuable marten, sable, beaver,
otter, skunk, &c., &c., he knew the ways and habits of each one; he
would set his steel trap with as true an intuition as if he had
received notice of the coming of his prey. Many a silver fox had
found himself outdone in sharpness and cunning by Michel; many a lynx
or wild cat had fought for dear life, and may-be, made _one_
escape from Michel's snares, leaving perhaps one of its paws in token
of its fierce struggle, yet had perished after all, being allured in
some opposite direction by tempting bait, or irresistible scent laid
by the same skilful hand. In bear hunting also Michel was an adept,
and he lacked not opportunity for this sport on the banks of the
Mackenzie. Many a time would he and, perhaps, one other Indian glide
down the river in his swift canoe, and suddenly the keen observant
eyes would detect a | 3,141.148781 |
2023-11-16 19:09:25.2299910 | 3,244 | 8 |
Produced by David Widger
THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER
BY
MARK TWAIN
(Samuel Langhorne Clemens)
Part 8
CHAPTER XXXII
TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St.
Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public
prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private
prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good
news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the
quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain
the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a
great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to
hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute
at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had
drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost
white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn.
Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village
bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad
people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're
found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed
itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open
carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its
homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring
huzzah after huzzah!
The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the
greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour
a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized
the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to
speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place.
Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It
would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with
the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay
upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of
the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it
withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on
an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his
kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of
the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off
speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it,
pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad
Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would
not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that
passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good
news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was
tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he
labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when
she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how
he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat
there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom
hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition;
how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they,
"you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in"
--then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them
rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home.
Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him
were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung
behind them, and informed of the great news.
Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be
shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were
bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and
more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on
Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday;
but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as
if she had passed through a wasting illness.
Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but
could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or
Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still
about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas
stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff
Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found
in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying
to escape, perhaps.
About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to
visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting
talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge
Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The
Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him
ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he
thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said:
"Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt.
But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any
more."
"Why?"
"Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago,
and triple-locked--and I've got the keys."
Tom turned as white as a sheet.
"What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!"
The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face.
"Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?"
"Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!"
CHAPTER XXXIII
WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of
men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well
filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that
bore Judge Thatcher.
When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in
the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground,
dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing
eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer
of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own
experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but
nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now,
which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated
before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day
he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast.
Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The
great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through,
with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock
formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had
wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if
there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been
useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could
not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had
only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass
the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily
one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices
of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The
prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to
catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their
claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at
hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages,
builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had
broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone,
wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop
that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a
clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop
was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the
foundations of Rome were laid when Christ was crucified; when the
Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the
massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be
falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of
history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the
thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did
this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for
this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object
to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and
many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch
the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that
pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the
wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of
the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it.
Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked
there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and
hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all
sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as
satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the
hanging.
This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to
the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely
signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a
committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail
around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample
his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five
citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself
there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names
to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently
impaired and leaky water-works.
The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have
an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the
Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned
there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he
wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said:
"I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but
whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben
you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you
hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and
told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always
told me we'd never get holt of that swag."
"Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern
was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you
was to watch there that night?"
"Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I
follered Injun Joe to the widder's."
"YOU followed him?"
"Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him,
and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it
hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right."
Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only
heard of the Welshman's part of it before.
"Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question,
"whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon
--anyways it's a goner for us, Tom."
"Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!"
"What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on
the track of that money again?"
"Huck, it's in the cave!"
Huck's eyes blazed.
"Say it again, Tom."
"The money's in the cave!"
"Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?"
"Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go
in there with me and help get it out?"
"I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not
get lost."
"Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the
world."
"Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--"
"Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll
agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I
will, by jings."
"All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?"
"Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?"
"Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days,
now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could."
"It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go,
Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me
know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the
skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You
needn't ever turn your hand over."
"Less start right off, Tom."
"All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little
bag or two, | 3,141.250031 |
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Produced by Bryan Ness, Ritu Aggarwal and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
The earth is moving, the universe is working, all the laws of creation
are working toward justice, toward a better humanity, toward a higher
ideal, toward a time when men will be brothers the world over.
Industrial Conspiracies
By CLARENCE S. DARROW
Noted Lawyer, Philosopher, Author and Humanitarian
=Price 10c=
The earth is moving, the universe is working, all the laws of creation
are working toward justice, toward a better humanity, toward a higher
ideal, toward a time when men will be brothers the world over.
Industrial Conspiracies
BY CLARENCE S. DARROW
Noted Lawyer, Philosopher, Author and Humanitarian
Lecture delivered in Heilig Theatre, Portland, Oregon, September 10,
1912.
Stenographically reported and published by permission of the author.
Published by Turner, Newman and Knispel,
Address Box 701 Portland, Ore.
Single copies of this lecture may be had by sending 10 cents to
publishers, 100 copies $6.00, $50.00 per thousand.
Orders must be accompanied by cash or money order. Postage will be
prepaid.
Make checks payable to Otto Newman, Publisher.
Box 701, Portland, Oregon.
=ALL RIGHTS RESERVED=
Publisher's Note.--This address was delivered shortly after Mr.
Darrow's triumphant acquittal on a charge growing out of his defense
of the McNamaras at Los Angeles, California. The man, the subject
and the occasion makes it one of the greatest speeches of our time.
It is the hope of the publishers that this message of Mr. Darrow's
may reach the millions of men, women and youth of our country, that
they may see the labor problem plainer and that they may receive hope
and inspiration in their efforts to make a better and juster world.
PAUL TURNER,
OTTO NEWMAN,
JULIUS KNISPEL.
Copyright, October 3, 1912, by Turner, Newman & Knispel.
Industrial Conspiracies
By CLARENCE S. DARROW
Mr. Darrow said:
I feel very grateful to you for the warmth and earnestness of your
reception. It makes me feel sure that I am amongst friends. If I had
to be tried again, I would not mind taking a change of venue to
Portland (applause); although I think I can get along where I am
without much difficulty.
The subject for tonight's talk was not chosen by me but was chosen for
me. I don't know who chose it, nor just what they expected me to say,
but there is not much in a name, and I suppose what I say tonight
would be just about the same under any title that anybody saw fit to
give.
I am told that I am going to talk about "Industrial Conspiracies." I
ought to know something about them. And I won't tell you all I know
tonight, but I will tell you some things that I know tonight.
The conspiracy laws, you know, are very old. As one prominent laboring
man said on the witness stand down in Los Angeles a few weeks ago when
they asked him if he was not under indictment and what for, he said he
was under indictment for the charge they always made against working
men when they hadn't done anything--conspiracy. And that is the charge
they always make. It is the one they have always made against
everybody when they wanted them, and particularly against working men,
because they want them oftener than they do anybody else. (Applause).
When they want a working man for anything excepting work they want him
for conspiracy. (Laughter). And the greatest conspiracy that is
possible for a working man to be guilty of is not to work--a
conspiracy the other fellows are always guilty of. (Applause). The
conspiracy laws are very old. They were very much in favor in the Star
Chamber days in England. If any king or ruler wanted to get rid of
someone, and that someone had not done anything, they indicted him for
what he was thinking about; that is, for conspiracy; and under it they
could prove anything that he ever said or did, and anything that
anybody else ever said or did to prove what he was thinking about; and
therefore that he was guilty. And, of course, if anybody was thinking,
it was a conspiracy against the king; for you can't think without
thinking against a king. (Applause). The trouble is most people don't
think. (Laughter and applause). And therefore they are not guilty of
conspiracy. (Laughter and applause).
The conspiracy laws in England were especially used against working
men, and in the early days, not much more than a hundred years ago,
for one working man to go to another and suggest that he ask for
higher wages was a conspiracy, punishable by imprisonment. For a few
men to come together and form a labor organization in England was a
conspiracy. It is not here. Even the employer is willing to let you
form labor organizations, if you don't do anything but pass
resolutions. (Laughter and applause).
But the formation of unions in the early days in England was a
conspiracy, and so they used to meet in the forests and in the rocks
and in the caves and waste places and hide their records in the earth
where the informers and detectives and Burnes' men of those days could
not get hold of them. (Applause). It used to be a crime for a working
man to leave the county without the consent of the employer; and they
never gave their consent. They were bought and sold with the land.
Some of them are now. It reached that pass in England after labor
unions were formed, that anything they did was a conspiracy, and to
belong to one was practically a criminal offense. These laws were not
made by Parliament; of course they were not made by the people. No law
was ever made by the people; they are made for the people (applause);
and it does not matter whether the people have a right to vote or not,
they never make the laws. (Applause).
These laws, however, were made by judges, the same officials who make
the laws in the United States today. (Applause).
We send men to the Legislature to make law, but they don't make them.
I don't care who makes a law, if you will let me interpret it.
(Laughter). I would be willing to let the Steel Trust make a law if
they would let me tell what it meant after they got it made.
(Laughter). That has been the job of the judges, and that is the
reason the powerful interests of the world always want the courts.
They let you have the members of the Legislature, and the Aldermen and
the Constable, if they can have the judges.
And so in England the judges by their decisions tied the working man
hand and foot until he was a criminal if he did anything but work, as
many people think he is today. He actually was at that time, until
finally Parliament, through the revolution of the people, repealed all
these laws that judges had made, wiped them all out of existence, and
did, for a time at least, leave the working man free; and then they
began to organize, and it has gone on to that extent in England today,
that labor organizations are as firmly established as Parliament
itself. Much better established there than here.
We in this country got our early laws from England. We took pretty
much everything that was bad from England and left most that was good.
(Applause). At first, when labor organizations were started they had a
fair chance; they were left comparatively free; but when they began to
grow the American judges got busy. They got busy with injunctions,
with conspiracy laws, and there was scarcely anything that a labor
organization could do that was not an industrial conspiracy.
Congress took a hand, not against labor; but to illustrate what I said
about the difference between making a law and telling what the law
means, we might refer to the act which was considered a great law at
the time of its passage, a law defining conspiracy and combinations in
reference to trade, the Sherman anti-trust law. In the meantime, the
combinations of capital had grown so large that even respectable
people began to be afraid of them, farmers and others who never learn
anything until everybody else has forgotten it (laughter); they began
to be afraid of them. They found the great industrial organizations of
the country controlling everything they used. One powerful
organization owned all the oil there was in the United States; another
handful of men owned all the anthracite coal there was in the United
States; a few men owned all the iron mines in the United States; and
the people began to be alarmed about it. And so they passed a law
punishing conspiracies against trade. The father of the law was
Senator Sherman of Ohio. The law was debated long in Congress and the
Senate. Every man spoke of it as a law against the trusts and
monopolies, conspiracies in restraint of trade and commerce. Every
newspaper in the country discussed it as that; every labor
organization so considered it.
Congress passed it and the President signed it, and then an indictment
was found against a corporation, and it went to the Supreme Court of
the United States for the Supreme Court to say what the law meant. Of
course Congress can't pass a law that you and I can understand.
(Laughter). They may use words that are only found in the primer, but
we don't know what they mean. Nobody but the Supreme Court can tell
what they mean.
Everybody supposed this law was plain and simple and easily
understood, but when they indicted a combination of capital for a
conspiracy in restraint of trade, the Supreme Court said this law did
not apply to them at all; that it was never meant to fit that
particular case. So they tried another one, and they indicted another
combination engaged in the business of cornering markets, engaged in
the business of trade, rich people, good people. It means the same
thing. (Laughter). And the Supreme Court decided that this law did not
fit their case, and every one began to wonder what the law did mean
anyhow. And after awhile there came along the strike of a body of
laboring men, the American Railway Union. They didn't have a dollar in
the world altogether, because they were laboring men and they were not
engaged in trade; they were working; but they hadn't found anything
else that the Sherman anti-trust act applied to, so they indicted Debs
and his followers for a conspiracy in restraint of trade; and they
carried this case to the Supreme Court. I was one of the attorneys who
carried it to the Supreme Court. Most lawyers only tell you about the
cases they win. I can tell you about some I lose. (Applause). A lawyer
who | 3,141.253784 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Old Hendrik's Tales, by Captain Arthur Owen Vaughan.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
OLD HENDRIK'S TALES, BY CAPTAIN ARTHUR OWEN VAUGHAN.
CHAPTER ONE.
WHY OLD BABOON HAS THAT KINK IN HIS TAIL.
The day was hot, and the koppies simmered blue and brown along the Vaal
River. Noon had come, dinner was done. "Allah Mattie!" said the grey
old kitchen boy to himself, as he stretched to sleep in the shade of the
mimosa behind the house. "Allah Mattie! but it near break my back in
dem tobacco lands dis mawnin'. I sleep now."
He stretched himself with a slow groan of pleasure, settling his face
upon his hands as he lay, soaking in comfort. In three minutes he was
asleep.
But round the corner of the house came the three children, the eldest a
ten-year-old, the youngest six. With a whoop and a dash the eldest
flung himself astride the old Hottentot's back, the youngest rode the
legs behind, while the girl, the eight-year-old with the yellow hair and
the blue eyes, darted to the old man's head and caught him fast with
both hands. "Ou' Ta'! Ou' Ta'!" she cried. "Now you're Ou' Jackalse
and we're Ou' Wolf, and we've got you this time at last." She wanted to
dance in the triumph of it, could she have done it without letting go.
Old Hendrik woke between a grunt and a groan, but the merry clamour of
the little girl would have none of that. "Now we've got you, Ou'
Jackalse," cried she again.
The old man's yellow face looked up in a sly grin. "Ah, Anniekye," said
he unctuously; "but Ou' Wolf never did ketch Ou' Jackalse. He ain't
never bin slim enough yet. He make a big ole try dat time when he got
Oom Baviyaan to help him; but all dey got was dat kink in Ou' Baviyaan's
tail--you can see it yet."
"But how _did_ old Bobbyjohn get that kink in his tail? You never told
us that, Ou' Ta'," protested Annie.
The old Hottentot smiled to the little girl, and then straightway sighed
to himself. "If you little folks only knowed de Taal," said he
plaintively. "It don't soun' de same in you' Englis' somehow." He
shook his head sadly over English as the language for a Hottentot story
handed down in the Boer tongue. He had been long enough in the service
of this "English" family (an American father and Australian mother) to
know enough of the language for bald use; though, being a Hottentot, he
had never mastered the "th," as a Basuto or other Bantu might have done,
and was otherwise uncertain also--the pronunciation of a word often
depending upon that of the words next before and after it. But English
was not fond enough, nor had diminutives enough, for a kitchen tale as a
house Kaffir loves to tell it.
None the less, his eyes brightened till the smile danced in his face as
his words began. "Ou' Wolf--well, Ou' Wolf, he'd a seen a lot less
trouble if he ha'n't had sich a wife, for Ou' Missis Wolf she yust had a
temper like a meer-cat. Folks use' to won'er how Ou' Wolf manage' wid
her, an' Ou' Jackalse use' to say to him, `Allah man! if she was on'y my
wife for about five minutes she'd fin' out enough to tink on as long's
she keep a-livin'.' An' den Ou' Jackalse, he'd hit 'is hat back on to
de back of his head an' he'd step slouchin' an' fair snort agen
a-grinnin'.
"But Ou' Wolf ud look behind to see if his missis was hearin', an' den
he'd shake his head, an' stick his hands in his pockets an' walk off an
tink. He'd see some mighty tall tinkin' yust up over his head, but he
couldn' somehow seem to get a-hold of it.
"Well, one mawnin' Missis Wolf she get up, an' she look on de hooks an'
dere ain't no meat, an' she look in de pot an' dere ain't no mealies.
`Allah Crachty!' says she, `but dat Ou' Wolf is about de laziest skellum
ever any woman wore herse'f out wid. I'll ketch my deat' of him afore
I's done.'
"Den she look outside, an' dere she seen Ou' Wolf a-settin' on de stoop
in de sun. He was yust a-waitin', sort o' quiet an' patient, for his
breakfas', never dreamin' nothin' about bein' banged about de yead wid a
mealie ladle, when out flops Missis Wolf, an' fair bangs him a biff on
one side his head wid de long spoon. `You lazy skellum!' ses she, an'
bash she lams him on his t'other year. `Where's darie [that there] meat
for de breakfas' I don' know?' ses she, an' whack she smack him right on
top his head. `Off you go an' fetch some dis ver' minute,' ses she, an'
Ou' Wolf he don' say no moh, but he yust offs, an' he offs wid a yump
too, I can tell you.
"Ou' Wolf as he go he won'er how he's goin' to get dat meat quick
enough. `I tink I'll get Ou' Jackalse to come along a-huntin' too,' ses
he. `He's mighty slim when he ain't no need to be, an' p'raps if he'd
be slim a-huntin' dis mawnin' we'd ketch somet'in' quicker.' An' Ou'
Wolf rub his head in two-t'ree places as he tink of it.
"Now Ou' Jackalse, he was a-sittin' in de sun agen de wall of his house,
a-won'erin' where he's gun' to get breakfas', 'cause he feel dat hungry
an' yet he feel dat lazy dat he wish de grass was sheep so he could lie
down to it. But grass ain't sheep till it's inside one, an' so Missis
Jackalse, inside a-spankin' little Ainkye, was a-won'erin' where she's
gun' to get some breakfas' to stop it a-squallin'. `I yust wish you'
daddy 'ud tink a bit oftener where I's gun' to get bones for you,' ses
she.
"Little Ainkye, she stop an' listen to dat, an' den she tink awhile, but
she fin' she don't get no fatter on on'y talk about bones, an' fus'
t'ing her mammy know she puts her two han's up to her eyes an' fair
dives into squallin' agen.
"Missis Jackalse she ketches hold o' Ainkye an' gives her such a shakin'
till her eyes fly wide open. `I's yust about tired o' hearin' all dat
row,' ses she. An' while Ainkye's quiet considerin' dat, Missis
Jackalse she hear Ou' Wolf come along outside, axin' her Ou' Baas ain't
he comin' huntin' dis mawnin'? Den she hear Ou' Jackalse answer back,
sort o' tired like. `But I cahnt come. I's sick.'
"Den Ainkye lets out a squall fit to split, an' her mammy she biffs her
a bash dat s'prise her quite quiet, before she stick her head out o de
doh an' say, mighty tremblin' like--`I don't tink we got no meat fo'
breakfas' at all, Ou' Man'.
"But Ou' Jackalse he ain't a troublin' hisse'f about no women's talk.
He don't turn his 'ead nor not'in'. He yust hutch hisse'f closer to de
wall to bake hisse'f some more, an' he say agen--`I tell you I's sick,
an' I cahnt go huntin' dis mawnin', nohow'.
"Missis Jackalse she pop her head inside agen mighty quick at dat, an'
Ou' Wolf he sling off down de spruit wid his back up. Ou' Jackalse he
yust sit still in de sun an' watch him go, an' he ses to hisse'f ses he:
`Now dat's big ole luck fo' me. If he ha'n't a come along like dat I
don' know but I'd a had to go an' ketch somet'in' myse'f, I'm dat
'ongry. But now it'll be all right when he come back wid some sort o'
buck.'
"Den he turn his head to de doh. `_Frowickie_,' ses he to his missis
inside, soft an' chucklin', `tell Ainkye to stop dat squallin' an'
bawlin'. Ou' Wolf's gone huntin', an' yust as sure as he come back
we'll have all de breakfas' we want. Tell 'er if she don't stop anyhow
I'll come inside to her.'
"Missis Jackalse she frown at Ainkye. `You hear dat now,' ses she, `an'
you better be quiet now 'less you want to have you' daddy come in to
you.' An' Ainkye she say, `Well, will you le' me play wid your tail
den?' An' her mammy she say, `All right,' an' dey 'gun a-laughin' an'
a-goin' on in whispers. But Ou' Jackalse he yust sit an' keep on bakin'
hisse'f in de sun by de wall.
"By'n'by here comes Ou' Wolf back agen, an' a big fat Eland on his back,
an' de sweat yust a-drippin' off him. An' when he comes past de house
he look up an' dere he see Ou' Jackalse yust a-settin' an' a-bakin', an'
a-makin' slow marks in de dust wid his toes now an' agen, an' lookin'
might comfy. An' Ou' Wolf he feel darie big fat Eland more bigger an
heavier dan ever on his back, an he feel dat savage at Ou' Jackalse dat
he had to look toder way, for fear he'd let out all his bad words
_Kerblob_ in one big splosh on darie Ou' Jackalse head. But Ou'
Jackalse he say nawt'in'; he yust sit an' bake. But he tink inside
hisse'f, an' his eye kind o' 'gun to shine behind in his head as he
watch darie meat go past an' go on, an' he feel his mouf run all water.
"But he ha'n't watched dat breakfas' out o' sight, an' he ha'n't quite
settle hisse'f yust how he's goin' to get his share, when up hops Klein
Hahsie--what you call Little Hare.
"`Mawnin', Klein Hahsie,' ses Ou' Jackalse, but yust so high an'
mighty's he know how, 'cause little Hahsie he's de runner for Big Baas
King Lion, an Ou' Jackalse he tink he'll show him dat oder folks ain't
no chicken feed, too.
"`Mawnin', Ou' Jackalse,' ses Little Hahsie, kind o' considerin' him
slow out of his big shiny eyes. Den he make a grab at one of his own
long years as if it tickle him, an' when he turn his face to look at de
tip o' darie year he sorto' wunk at it, kind o' slow and solemn. `Darie
ou' year o' mine!' ses he to Ou' Jackalse.
"Den he sort o' remember what he come for, an' he speak out mighty
quick. `You yust better get a wiggle on you mighty sudden,' ses he.
`Ou' King Lion he's a roarin' for darie Ou' Jackalse fit to tear up de
bushes. "Where's darie Ou' Jackalse? If he don't get here mighty quick
he'll know all about it," roars he. "What's de use o' me makin' him my
doctor if he ain't here when he's wanted? Dis claw I neah tore out
killin' a Koodoo yeste'day--he'd better be yust lively now a-gittin'
here to doctor dat. Fetch him!" roars he, an' here I am, an' I tell you
you yust better git a move on you,' ses Hahsie.
"Ou' Jackalse he tink, but he don't let on nawthin' but what he's yust
so sick as to split. `I's dat bad I cahnt har'ly crawl,' ses he--`but
you go 'long an' tell King Lion I's a-comin' as soon's ever I get some
medicine mix'.'
"`Well, I tol' you--you better be quicker'n blue lightnin' all de same,'
ses Hahsie, an' off he flicks, as if he's sort o' considerin' what's de
matter wid Ou' Jackalse.
"Well, Ou' Jackalse he tink, | 3,141.446942 |
2023-11-16 19:09:25.5267680 | 3,248 | 7 |
Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE ROAD-BUILDERS
[Illustration: The M M Co]
[Illustration: "'there,' he cried,... 'there, boys! that means
red hills or bust.'" _Frontispiece_]
The Road-Builders
BY
SAMUEL MERWIN
AUTHOR OF "THE MERRY ANNE," JOINT AUTHOR OF
"CALUMET 'K,'" "THE SHORT LINE WAR," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
F. B. MASTERS
TORONTO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
1910
COPYRIGHT, 1905,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1905. Reprinted
April, 1906.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
_TO MY LITTLE SON_
NOTE
A part of this story was printed serially in _The Saturday
Evening Post_ under the title, "A Link in the Girdle."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. YOUNG VAN ENGAGES A COOK 1
II. WHERE THE MONEY CAME FROM 22
III. AT MR. CARHART'S CAMP 37
IV. JACK FLAGG SEES STARS 66
V. WHAT THEY FOUND AT THE WATER-HOLE 97
VI. THE ROAD TO TOTAL WRECK 138
VII. THE SPIRIT OF THE JOB 185
VIII. SHOTS--AND A SCOUTING PARTY 219
IX. A SHOW-DOWN 246
X. WHAT TOOK PLACE AT RED HILLS 293
ILLUSTRATIONS
"'There,' he cried,... 'there, boys! That means Red Hills
or bust'" _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
"'It's all I have a right to give anybody'" 74
"'Eighty cents,' he muttered, 'and for how much work?'" 80
"'Well,' began the boss, looking him over, 'what kind of a
cook are you?'" 98
"Wonderfully they held the pace" 114
"They went on in this way for nearly an hour" 120
"'Look here, Tiffany,' Carhart began,'something's going to
happen to this man Peet'" 142
"'You go back to your quarters'" 208
"... this trestle structure which was slowly crawling, like
some monster centipede, across the sands of the La Paz" 240
"The cigarette dropped from Antonio's unnerved fingers" 244
"Charlie had not raised his revolver,--the muzzle still
rested easily on the sill,--but it was pointing straight
at Jack Flagg's heart" 310
THE ROAD-BUILDERS
CHAPTER I
YOUNG VAN ENGAGES A COOK
The S. & W. was hoping some day to build a large station with a steel
and glass trainshed at Sherman. Indeed, a side elevation of the
structure, drawn to scale and framed in black walnut, had hung for a
number of years in the private office, away down east, of President
Daniel De Reamer. But that was to come in the day when Sherman should
be a metropolis; at present the steel of which it was to be
constructed still lay deep in the earth, unblasted, unsmelted, and
unconverted; and the long, very dirty train which, at the time this
narrative opens, was waiting to begin its westward journey, lay
exposed to the rays of what promised to be, by noon, the hottest sun
the spring had so far known. The cars were of an old, ill-ventilated
sort, and the laborers, who were packed within them like cattle in a
box-car, had shed coats and even shirts, and now sat back, and gasped
and grumbled and fanned themselves with their caps, and steadily lost
interest in life.
Apparently there was some uncertainty back in the office of the
superintendent. A red-faced man, with a handkerchief around his neck,
ran out with an order; whereupon an engine backed in, coupled up to
the first car, and whistled impatiently. But they did not go. Half an
hour passed, and the red-faced man ran out again, and the engine
uncoupled, snorted, rang its bell, and disappeared whence it had come.
At length two men--Peet, the superintendent, and Tiffany, chief
engineer of the railroad--walked down the platform together, and
addressed a stocky man with a close-cut gray mustache and a fixed
frown, who stood beside the rear car.
"Peet says he can't wait any longer, Mr. Vandervelt," said Tiffany.
"Can't help that," replied Vandervelt.
"But you've got to help it!" cried Peet. "What are you waiting for,
anyway?"
"If you think we're starting without Paul Carhart, you're mistaken."
"Carhart! Who is Carhart?"
"That's all right," Tiffany put in. "He's in charge of the
construction."
"I don't care what he is! This train--"
He was interrupted by a sudden uproar in the car just ahead. A number
of Italians had chosen to enliven the occasion by attacking the
Mexicans, some of whom had unavoidably been assigned to this car.
Vandervelt left the railroad men without a word, bounded up the car
steps, and plunged through the door. The confusion continued for a
moment, then died down. Another moment, and Vandervelt reappeared on
the platform.
Meanwhile Tiffany was talking to the superintendent.
"You've simply got to wait, Peet," said he. "The old man says that
Carhart must have a free hand. If he's late, there's a reason for
it."
"The old man didn't say that to me," growled Peet; but he waited.
* * * * *
It would perhaps be difficult to find, in the history of American
enterprise, an undertaking which demanded greater promptness in
execution than the present one; yet, absurdly enough, the cause of the
delay was a person so insignificant that, even for the purposes of
this narrative, his name hardly matters. The name happened to be,
however, Purple Finn, and he had been engaged for chief cook to the
first division.
There was but one real hotel in the "city," which is to be known here
as Sherman, the half-dozen other places that bore the title of hotel
being rather in the nature of a side line to the saloon and gambling
industry. At this one, which was indicated by a projecting sign and
the words "Eagle, House," Carhart and his engineers were stopping.
"The Comma House," as the instrument men and stake men had promptly
dubbed it, was not very large and not very clean, and the "razor back"
hogs and their progeny had a way of sleeping in rows on and about the
low piazza. But it was, nevertheless, the best hotel in that
particular part of the Southwest.
Finn, on the other hand, made his headquarters at one of the half
dozen, that one which was known to the submerged seven-eighths as
"Murphy's." That Finn should be an enthusiastic patron of the poor
man's club was not surprising, considering that he was an Irish
plainsman of a culinary turn, and considering, too, that he was now
winding up one of those periods between jobs, which begin in spacious
hilarity and conclude with a taste of ashes in the mouth.
It was late afternoon. The chief was sitting in his room, before a
table which was piled high with maps, blue-prints, invoices, and
letters. All day long he had been sitting at this table, going over
the details of the work in hand. Old Vandervelt had reported that the
rails and bolts and ties and other necessaries were on the cars;
Flint and Scribner had reported for their divisions; the statements of
the various railroad officials had been examined, to make sure that no
details were overlooked, for these would, sooner or later, bob up in
the form of misunderstandings; the thousand and one things which must
be considered before the expedition should take the plunge into the
desert had apparently been disposed of. And finally, when the large
clock down in the office was announcing, with a preliminary rattle and
click, that it intended very shortly to strike the half-hour between
five and six, the chief pushed back his chair and looked up at his
engineers, who were seated about him--Old Van before him on a trunk;
Scribner and Young Van beside him on the bed; John Flint, a thin,
sallow man, astride the other chair, and Haddon on the floor with his
back against the wall.
"All accounted for, Paul, I guess," said Flint.
Carhart replied with a question, "How about those iron rods, John?"
"All checked off and packed on the train."
"Did you accept Doble and Dean's estimate for your oats?"
"Not much. Cut it down a third. It was altogether too much to carry.
You see, I shall be only thirty-odd miles from Red Hills, once I get
out there, and I don't look for any trouble keeping in touch."
"It's just as well," said Carhart. "The less you carry, the more room
for us."
"Did those pots and kettles come, Gus?" Carhart asked, turning to the
younger Vandervelt, who was to act as his secretary and general
assistant.
"Yes; just before noon. They had been carried on to Paradise by
mistake. I got them right aboard."
"And you were going to keep an eye on that cook. Where is he?"
Young Van hesitated, and an expression of chagrin came into his face.
"I'll look him up. He promised me last night that he wouldn't touch
another drop."
"Well--get your hands on him, and don't let go again."
Young Van left the room, and as he drew the door to after him he could
hear the chief saying: "Haddon, I wish you would find Tiffany and
remind him that I'm counting on his getting around early to-night. I'm
not altogether satisfied with their scheme for supplying us." And
hearing this, he was more than ever conscious of his own small part in
this undertaking, and more than ever chagrined that he should prove
unequal to the very small matter of keeping an eye on the cook. At
least, it seemed a small matter, in view of the hundreds of problems
concerning men and things which Paul Carhart was solving on this day.
The barkeeper at Murphy's, who served also in the capacity of night
clerk, proved secretive on the subject of Purple Finn--hadn't seen him
all day--didn't know when he would be in. The young engineer thought
he had better sit down to digest the situation. This suggested supper,
and he ordered the best of Murphy's fare, and ate slowly and
pondered. Seven o'clock came, but brought no hint of the cook's
whereabouts. Young Van gathered from the barroom talk that a big
outfit had come into town from Paradise within the past hour or so,
and incidentally that one of the outfit, Jack Flagg, was on the
warpath--whoever Jack Flagg might be. As he sat in a rear corner,
watching, with an assumption of carelessness, the loafers and
plainsmen and gamblers who were passing in and out, or were, like
himself, sitting at the round tables, it occurred to him to go up to
Finn's room. He knew, from former calls, where it was. But he learned
nothing more than that the cook's door was ajar, and that a
half-packed valise lay open on the bed.
At half-past ten, after a tour of the most likely haunts, Young Van
returned to Murphy's and resumed his seat in the rear corner. He had
no notion of returning to the Eagle House without the cook. It was now
close on the hour when Sherman was used to rouse itself for the
revelry of the night, and that Finn would take some part in this
revelry, and that he would, sooner or later, reappear at his favorite
hostelry, seemed probable.
The lamps in this room were suspended from the ceiling at such a
height that their light entered the eye at the hypnotic angle; and so
it was not long before Young Van, weary from the strain of the week,
began to nod. The bar with its line of booted figures, and the
quartets of card-players, and the one waiter moving about in his
spotted white apron, were beginning to blur and run together. The
clink of glasses and the laughter came to his ears as if from a great
distance. Once he nearly recovered his faculties. A group of new
arrivals were looking toward his corner. "Waiting for Purple Finn,
eh?" said one. "Well, I guess he's got a nice long wait in front of
him, poor fool!" Then they all laughed. And Young Van himself, with
half-open eyes, had to smile over the poor fool in the corner who was
waiting for Purple Finn.
"I hear Jack Flagg's in town," said the barkeeper. "I wonder if he
is!" replied the first speaker. "I wonder if Jack Flagg is in town!"
Again they laughed. And again Young Van smiled. How odd that Jack
Flagg should be in town!
He was awakened by a sound of hammering. There was little change in
the room: the card games were going steadily on; the bar still had its
line of thirsty plainsmen; two men were wrangling in a corner. Then he
made out a group of newcomers who were tacking a placard to the wall,
and chuckling as they did so.
And now, for the first time, Young Van became conscious that he was no
longer alone at his table. Opposite him, smiling genially, and
returning his gaze with benevolent watery eyes, sat a big Texan. This
individual wore his cowboy hat on the back of his head, and made no
effort to conceal the two revolvers and the knife at his belt.
"D'ye know," said the Texan, "I like you. What's your name?"
"Vandervelt. What is yours?"
" | 3,141.546808 |
2023-11-16 19:09:25.6308630 | 861 | 31 |
Produced by Judith Boss
THE LOST CONTINENT
C. J. Cutliffe Hyne
CONTENTS
PREFATORY: THE LEGATEES OF DEUCALION
1 MY RECALL
2 BACK TO ATLANTIS
3 A RIVAL NAVY
4 THE WELCOME OF PHORENICE
5 ZAEMON'S CURSE
6 THE BITERS OF THE CITY WALLS
7 THE BITERS OF THE WALLS
(FURTHER ACCOUNT)
8 THE PREACHER FROM THE MOUNTAINS
9 PHORENICE, GODDESS
10 A WOOING
11 AN AFFAIR WITH THE BARBAROUS FISHERS
12 THE DRUG OF OUR LADY THE MOON
13 THE BURYING ALIVE OF NAIS
14 AGAIN THE GODS MAKE CHANGE
15 ZAEMON'S SUMMONS
16 SIEGE OF THE SACRED MOUNTAIN
17 NAIS THE REGAINED
18 STORM OF THE SACRED MOUNTAIN
19 DESTRUCTION OF THE ATLANTIS
20 ON THE BOSOM OF THE DEEP
PREFATORY:
THE LEGATEES OF DEUCALION
We were both of us not a little stiff as the result of sleeping out in
the open all that night, for even in Grand Canary the dew-fall and the
comparative chill of darkness are not to be trifled with. For myself on
these occasions I like a bit of a run as an early refresher. But here on
this rough ground in the middle of the island there were not three yards
of level to be found, and so as Coppinger proceeded to go through some
sort of dumb-bell exercises with a couple of lumps of bristly lava, I
followed his example. Coppinger has done a good deal of roughing it in
his time, but being a doctor of medicine amongst other things--he takes
out a new degree of some sort on an average every other year--he is
great on health theories, and practises them like a religion.
There had been rain two days before, and as there was still a bit of
stream trickling along at the bottom of the barranca, we went down there
and had a wash, and brushed our teeth. Greatest luxury imaginable, a
toothbrush, on this sort of expedition.
"Now," said Coppinger when we had emptied our pockets, "there's precious
little grub left, and it's none the better for being carried in a local
Spanish newspaper."
"Yours is mostly tobacco ashes."
"It'll get worse if we leave it. We've a lot more bad scrambling ahead
of us."
That was obvious. So we sat down beside the stream there at the bottom
of the barranca, and ate up all of what was left. It was a ten-mile
tramp to the fonda at Santa Brigida, where we had set down our traps;
and as Coppinger wanted to take a lot more photographs and measurements
before we left this particular group of caves, it was likely we should
be pretty sharp set before we got our next meal, and our next taste of
the PATRON'S splendid old country wine. My faith! If only they knew down
in the English hotels in Las Palmas what magnificent wines one could
get--with diplomacy--up in some of the mountain villages, the old
vintage would become a thing of the past in a week.
Now to tell the truth, the two mummies he had gathered already quite
satisfied my small ambition. The goatskins in which they were sewn up
were as brittle as paper, and the poor old things themselves gave out
dust like a puffball whenever they were touched. But you know what
Coppinger is. He thought he'd come upon traces | 3,141.650903 |
2023-11-16 19:09:25.7287710 | 3,087 | 10 | FLORIDA COAST ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: "Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with emotion.
.. Frontispiece]
THE
YOUNG MAROONERS ON
THE FLORIDA COAST
BY
F. R. GOULDING
WITH INTRODUCTION BY
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
(Uncle Remus)
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1927
COPYRIGHT, 1862
BY F. R. GOULDING
COPYRIGHT, 1881
BY F. R. GOULDING
COPYRIGHT, 1887
BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
INTRODUCTION
I have been asked to furnish an introduction for a new edition of "The
Young Marooners." As an introduction is unnecessary, the writing of it
must be to some extent perfunctory. The book is known in many lands and
languages. It has survived its own success, and has entered into
literature. It has become a classic. The young marooners themselves
have reached middle age, and some of them have passed away, but their
adventures are as fresh and as entertaining as ever.
Dr. Goulding's work possesses all the elements of enduring popularity.
It has the strength and vigour of simplicity; its narrative flows
continuously forward; its incidents are strange and thrilling, and
underneath all is a moral purpose sanely put.
The author himself was surprised at the great popularity of his story,
and has written a history of its origin as a preface. The internal
evidence is that the book is not the result of literary ambition, but of
a strong desire to instruct and amuse his own children, and the story is
so deftly written that the instruction is a definite part of the
narrative. The art here may be unconscious, but it is a very fine art
nevertheless.
Dr. Goulding lived a busy life. He had the restless missionary spirit
which he inherited from the Puritans of Dorchester, England, who
established themselves in Dorchester, South Carolina, and in Dorchester,
Georgia, before the Revolutionary War. Devoting his life to good works,
he nevertheless found time to indulge his literary faculty; he also
found time to indulge his taste for mechanical invention. He invented
the first sewing-machine that was ever put in practical use in the
South. His family were using this machine a year before the Howe patents
were issued. In his journal of that date (1845) he writes: "Having
satisfied myself about my machine, I laid it aside that I might attend
to other and weightier duties." He applied for no patent.
"The Young Marooners" was begun in 1847, continued in a desultory way,
and completed in 1850. Its first title was a quaint one, "Bobbins and
Cruisers Company." It was afterward called "Robert and Harold; or, the
Young Marooners." The history of the manuscript of the book is an
interesting parallel to that of many other successful books. After
having been positively declined in New York, it was for months left in
Philadelphia, where one night, as the gentleman whose duty it was to
pass judgment upon the material offered had begun in a listless way his
task, he became so much absorbed in the story that he did not lay it
down until long after midnight, and hastening to the publishers early
next morning, insisted that it should be immediately put into print.
Three editions were issued in the first year, and it was soon reprinted
in England by Nisbet & Co., of London, followed by five other houses in
England and Scotland at later dates.
Dr. Goulding was the author of "Little Josephine," published in
Philadelphia (1848); "The Young Marooners" (1852); "Confederate
Soldiers' Hymn-Book," a compilation (1863); "Marooner's Island," an
independent sequel to "Young Marooners" (1868); "Frank Gordon; or, When
I was Little Boy" (1869), and "The Woodruff Stories" (1870). With the
exception of "Little Josephine" and the "Hymn-Book," they have all been
republished abroad. Born near Midway, Liberty County, Georgia,
September 28th, 1810, he died August 21st, 1881, and is buried in the
little churchyard at Roswell, Georgia.
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.
THE HISTORY OF THIS BOOK
In a vine-covered piazza of the sunny South, a company of boys and girls
used to gather round me, of a summer evening, to hear the varied story
of my early years. As these boys and girls grew larger, I found it
necessary to change my plan of instruction. There were many _facts in
nature_ which I wished to communicate, and many _expedients_ in
practical life, which I supposed might be useful. To give this
information, in such shape as to insure its being remembered, required a
story. The result has been a book; and that book is "The Young
Marooners"--or, as my young folks call it, "Robert and Harold."
Their interest in the story has steadily increased from the beginning to
the end; and sure am I, that if it excites one-half as much abroad, as
it has excited at home, no author need ask for more.
The story, however, is not all a story; the fiction consists mostly in
the putting together. With very few exceptions, the incidents are real
occurrences; and whoever will visit the regions described, will see that
the pictures correspond to nature. Possibly also, the visitor may meet
even now, with a fearless Harold, an intelligent Robert, a womanly Mary,
and a merry Frank.
Should my young readers ever go _marooning_, I trust their party may
meet with fewer misfortunes and as happy a termination.
F. R. G.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I The Company and Their Embarkation
II Mother Carey's Chickens--Fishing for Trout--Saw-Fish--Frank and the
Shark--Looming--Tom Starboard--The Nautilus--Arrival at Tampa
III Tampa Bay--Bellevue--Unloading--A Dangerous Cut--How to Stop a
Bleeding Artery--Tom Starboard Again
IV Confusion--Housekeeping in a Hurry--First Night on Shore--Company to
Dinner--"Blue Eyed Mary"--Robert at Prayer-Meeting--Danger of Descending
an Old Well--Recovering a Knife Dropped in a Well
V Riley--A Thunderstorm--Ascertaining the Distance of Objects by
Sound--Security Against Lightning--Means of Recovering Life from
Apparent Death by Lightning
VI The Only Way to Study--Taking Cold--Riley's Family--The Hare
Lip--Fishing for Sheephead--Frank Choked with a Fish Bone--His
Relief--His Story of the Sheep's Head and Dumplings--"Till the Warfare
is Over"
VII Bug in the Ear--Visit to Fort Brooke--Evading Blood-Hounds--Contest
with Dogs and Means of Defence--Amusing Escape from a Wild Bull and
Conversation on the Subject
VIII Marooning and the Marooning Party
IX Embarkation--Abduction Extraordinary--Efforts to Escape--Alternative
Hopes and Fears--Despair--Vessel in the Distance--Renewed Hopes and
Efforts--Water-Spout--Flash of Lightning and its Effects--Making for
Shore--Grateful Acknowledgments
X Waking Up--Good Resolutions--Alarm--Marooning Breakfast--Search for
Water--Unexpected Gain--Oyster Bank--Fate of a Raccoon--The Plume and
Fan
XI Discussion Of Plans--Doubts--Differences of Opinion--What Was Agreed
Upon--Baking a Turkey Without an Oven--Flying Signal
XII Results of the Cookery--Voyage--Appearance of the Country--Orange
Trees--The Bitter Sweet--Rattlesnake--Usual Signs for Distinguishing a
Fanged And Poisonous Serpent--Various Methods of Treating a Snake
Bite--Return
XIII Disappointment--The Live Oak--Unloading--Fishing
Excursion--Harold's Still Hunt--Disagreeable Means to an Agreeable End
XIV Frank's Excuses--Curing Venison--Marooning Cookery--Robert's
Vegetable Garden--Plans for Return--Preparation for the Sabbath
XV Their First Sabbath on the Island, and the Night and Morning that
succeeded
XVI A Sad Breakfast--Sagacity of Dogs--Search for the Boat--Exciting
Adventure--A Pretty Pet--Unexpected Intelligence
XVII Mary and Frank--Examination of the Tent--Smoke
Signal--Devices--Brute Messenger--Raft--Blazing the
Trees--Voyage--Disastrous Expedition--News from Home--Return to the Tent
XVIII Night Landing--Carrying a Wounded Person--Setting One's Own Limbs
when Broken--Splinting a Limb--Rest to the Weary
XIX The Surprise and Disappointment--Naming the Fawn--Sam's
Story--Depression After Excitement--Great Misfortune
XX Speculations and Resolves--Fishing--Inventory of Goods and
Chattels--Roasted Fish--Palmetto Cabbage--Tour--Sea-Shells, Their
Uses--The Pelican--Nature of the Country--Still Hunting--Wild Turkeys
Again--Work on the Tent
XXI Rainy Day--The Kitchen and Fire--Hunting the Opossum
XXII Frank and His "Pigs"--The Cage--Walk on the Beach--Immense
Crawfish--The Museum--Naming the Island
XXIII Their Second Sabbath on the Island, and the Way They Spent It
XXIV Mote in the Eye, and How It Was Removed--Conch Trumpet and
Signals--Tramp--Alarm
XXV A Hunter's Misfortune--Relief to a Sprain--How to Avoid Being Lost
in the Woods, and to Recover One's Course After being Lost--A Still Hunt
XXVI Crutches in Demand--Curing Venison--Pemmican--Scalding Off a
Porker's Hair with Leaves and Water--Turkey Trough--Solitary
Watching--Force of Imagination--Fearful Encounter--Different Modes of
Repelling Wild Beasts
XXVII Turkey-Pen--Sucking Water Through Oozy Sand--Exploring
Tour--Appearance of the Country--"Madame Bruin"--Soldier's Remedy for
Chafed Feet--Night in the Woods--Prairie--Indian Hut--Fruit
Trees--Singular Spring
XXVIII Plans--Visit to the Prairie--Discoveries--Shoe Making--Waterfowl
XXIX Removal to the Prairie--Night Robbery--Fold--Dangerous
Trap--Mysterious Signals--Bitter Disappointment
XXX Best Cure for Unavailing Sorrow--Mary's Adventure with a
Bear--Novel Defence--Protecting the Tent
XXXI Hard Work--Labour-Saving Device--Discovery as to the Time of the
Year--Schemes For Amusement--Tides on the Florida Coast
XXXII Christmas Morning--Voyage--Valuable Discovery--Hostile
Invasion--Robbery--Masterly Retreat--Battle at Last--A Quarrel Requires
Two Quarrellers--The Ghost's Visit
XXXIII The Cubs--Voyage to the Wreck--Stores--Horrid Sights--Trying
Predicament--Prizes--Return--Frank Needs Another Lecture
XXXIV Second Voyage to the Wreck--Fumigating Again--More Minute
Examination--Return--Accident--Dangers of Helping A Drowning
Person--Recovering a Person Apparently Drowned
XXXV Household Arrangements--Third Visit to the Wreck--Rainy
Weather--Agreement About Work--Mary in Great Danger--Extinguishing Fire
on One's Dress--Relief to a Burn--Conversation
XXXVI Successful Work--Excursion--The Fish-Eagle--Different Methods of
Procuring Fire--Woodsman's Shelter Against Rain and Hail--Novel Refuge
from Falling Trees
XXXVII Launching the Boats--More Work, and Yet More--Eclipse of Feb.
12th, 1831--Healing By "First Intention"--Frank's Birthday--Preparing
for a Voyage--Rain, Rain
XXXVIII Voyage Round the Island--The Lost Boat--Strange Signals
Again--Hurricane--Night March--Helpless Vessel--Melancholy Fate--The
Rescue--Marooners' Hospitality--Conclusion
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with emotion...
_Frontispiece_
The company went together to the sea shore and planted the signal
Deliberately taking aim, he discharged the whole load of bullets between
the creature's eyes
They were not two hours in reaching the proposed landing place
THE YOUNG MAROONERS
CHAPTER I
THE COMPANY AND THEIR EMBARKATION
On Saturday, the 21st of August, 1830, a small but beautiful brig left
the harbour of Charleston, South Carolina, bound for Tampa Bay, Florida.
On board were nine passengers; Dr. Gordon, his three children, Robert,
Mary, and Frank; his sister's son, Harold McIntosh, and four servants.
Dr. Gordon was a wealthy physician, who resided, during the winter, upon
the seaboard of Georgia, and during the summer upon a farm in the
mountains of that beautifully varied and thriving State. His wife was a
Carolinian, from the neighbourhood of Charleston. Anna | 3,141.748811 |
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INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER
_Edinburgh_: 100, PRINCES STREET
_London_: STEVENS AND SONS, LTD., 119 AND 120, CHANCERY LANE
_Berlin_: A. ASHER AND CO.
_Leipzig_: F. A. BROCKHAUS
_New York_: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
_Bombay and Calcutta_: MACMILLAN AND Co., LTD.
[_All Rights reserved_]
INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS
FOR
DISCUSSION
IN CONVERSATION CLASSES
BY
L. OPPENHEIM, M.A., LL.D.
WHEWELL PROFESSOR OF INTERNATIONAL LAW
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
ASSOCIATE OF THE INSTITUTE OF INTERNATIONAL LAW
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1909
_Cambridge:_
PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
Transcribers' Note: Inconsistent punctuation printed in the original
text has been retained.
PREFACE
For many years I have pursued the practice of holding conversation
classes following my lectures on international law. The chief
characteristic of these classes is the discussion of international
incidents as they occur in everyday life. I did not formerly possess
any collection, but brought before the class such incidents as had
occurred during the preceding week. Of late I have found it more useful
to preserve a record of some of these incidents and to add to this
nucleus a small number of typical cases from the past as well as some
problem cases, which were invented for the purpose of drawing the
attention of the class to certain salient points of international law.
As I was often asked | 3,141.753052 |
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OAK OPENINGS
By James Fennimore Cooper
PREFACE.
It ought to be matter of surprise how men live in the midst of marvels,
without taking heed of their existence. The slightest derangement of
their accustomed walks in political or social life shall excite all
their wonder, and furnish themes for their discussions, for months;
while the prodigies that come from above are presented daily to their
eyes, and are received without surprise, as things of course. In a
certain sense, this may be well enough, inasmuch as all which comes
directly from the hands of the Creator may be said so far to exceed the
power of human comprehension, as to be beyond comment; but the truth
would show us that the cause of this neglect is rather a propensity to
dwell on such interests as those over which we have a fancied control,
than on those which confessedly transcend our understanding. Thus is it
ever with men. The wonders of creation meet them at every turn, without
awakening reflection, while their minds labor on subjects that are not
only ephemeral and illusory, but which never attain an elevation higher
than that the most sordid interests can bestow.
For ourselves, we firmly believe that the finger of Providence is
pointing the way to all races, and colors, and nations, along the path
that is to lead the east and the west alike to the great goal of
human wants. Demons infest that path, and numerous and unhappy are
the wanderings of millions who stray from its course; sometimes in
reluctance to proceed; sometimes in an indiscreet haste to move faster
than their fellows, and always in a forgetfulness of the great rules of
conduct that have been handed down from above. Nevertheless, the main
course is onward; and the day, in the sense of time, is not distant,
when the whole earth is to be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, "as
the waters cover the sea."
One of the great stumbling-blocks with a large class of well-meaning,
but narrow-judging moralists, are the seeming wrongs that are permitted
by Providence, in its control of human events. Such persons take a
one-sided view of things, and reduce all principles to the level of
their own understandings. If we could comprehend the relations which the
Deity bears to us, as well as we can comprehend the relations we bear
to him, there might be a little seeming reason in these doubts; but when
one of the parties in this mighty scheme of action is a profound mystery
to the other, it is worse than idle, it is profane, to attempt to
explain those things which our minds are not yet sufficiently cleared
from the dross of earth to understand. Look at Italy, at this very
moment. The darkness and depression from which that glorious peninsula
is about to emerge are the fruits of long-continued dissensions and an
iron despotism, which is at length broken by the impulses left behind
him by a ruthless conqueror, who, under the appearance and the phrases
of Liberty, contended only for himself. A more concentrated egotism than
that of Napoleon probably never existed; yet has it left behind it seeds
of personal rights that have sprung up by the wayside, and which are
likely to take root with a force that will bid defiance to eradication.
Thus is it ever, with the progress of society. Good appears to arise
out of evil, and the inscrutable ways of Providence are vindicated by
general results, rather than by instances of particular care. We leave
the application of these remarks to the intelligence of such of our
readers as may have patience to peruse the work that will be found in
the succeeding pages.
We have a few words of explanation to say, in connection with the
machinery of our tale. In the first place, we would remark, that the
spelling of "burr-oak," as given in this book, is less our own than
an office spelling. We think it should be "bur-oak," and this for the
simple reason, that the name is derived from the fact that the acorn
borne by this tree is partially covered with a bur. Old Sam Johnson,
however, says that "burr" means the lobe, or lap of the ear; and those
who can fancy such a resemblance between this and the covering of our
acorn, are at liberty to use the two final consonants. Having commenced
stereotyping with this supernumerary, for the sake of uniformity that
mode of spelling, wrong as we think it, has been continued through-out
the book.
There is nothing imaginary in the fertility of the West. Personal
observation has satisfied us that it much surpasses anything that exists
in the Atlantic States, unless in exceptions, through the agency of
great care and high manuring, or in instances of peculiar natural soil.
In these times, men almost fly. We have passed over a thousand miles of
territory within the last few days, and have brought the pictures at the
two extremes of this journey in close proximity in our mind's eye. Time
may lessen that wonderful fertility, and bring the whole country more
on a level; but there it now is, a glorious gift from God, which it
is devoutly to be wished may be accepted with due gratitude and with
a constant recollection of his unwavering rules of right and wrong, by
those who have been selected to enjoy it.
June, 1848.
THE OAK OPENINGS.
CHAPTER I.
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day,
From every opening flower.
WATTS' HYMNS FOR CHILDREN.
We have heard of those who fancied that they beheld a signal instance
of the hand of the Creator in the celebrated cataract of Niagara. Such
instances of the power of sensible and near objects to influence certain
minds, only prove how much easier it is to impress the imaginations
of the dull with images that are novel, than with those that are less
apparent, though of infinitely greater magnitude. Thus it would seem to
be strange indeed, that any human being should find more to wonder at
in any one of the phenomena of the earth, than in the earth itself; or
should especially stand astonished at the might of Him who created the
world, when each night brings into view a firmament studded with other
worlds, each equally the work of His hands!
Nevertheless, there is (at bottom) a motive for adoration, in the study
of the lowest fruits of the wisdom and power of God. The leaf is as
much beyond our comprehension of remote causes, as much a subject of
intelligent admiration, as the tree which bears it: the single tree
confounds our knowledge and researches the same as the entire forest;
and, though a variety that appears to be endless pervades the world,
the same admirable adaptation of means to ends, the same bountiful
forethought, and the same benevolent wisdom, are to be found in the
acorn, as in the gnarled branch on which it grew.
The American forest has so often been described, as to cause one
to hesitate about reviving scenes that might possibly pall, and in
retouching pictures that have been so frequently painted as to be
familiar to every mind. But God created the woods, and the themes
bestowed by his bounty are inexhaustible. Even the ocean, with its
boundless waste of water, has been found to be rich in its various
beauties and marvels; and he who shall bury himself with us, once more,
in the virgin forests of this widespread land, may possibly discover new
subjects of admiration, new causes to adore the Being that has brought
all into existence, from the universe to its most minute particle.
The precise period of our legend was in the year 1812, and the season
of the year the pleasant month of July, which had now drawn near to its
close. The sun was already approaching the western limits of a wooded
view, when the actors in its opening scene must appear on a stage that
is worthy of a more particular description.
The region was, in one sense, wild, though it offered a picture that
was not without some of the strongest and most pleasing features of
civilization. The country was what is termed "rolling," from some
fancied resemblance to the surface of the ocean, when it is just
undulating with a long "ground-swell."
Although wooded, it was not, as the American forest is wont to grow,
with tail straight trees towering toward the light, but with intervals
between the low oaks that were scattered profusely over the view, and
with much of that air of negligence that one is apt to see in grounds
where art is made to assume the character of nature. The trees, with
very few exceptions, were what is called the "burr-oak," a small
variety of a very extensive genus; and the spaces between them, always
irregular, and often of singular beauty, have obtained the name of
"openings"; the two terms combined giving their appellation to this
particular species of native forest, under the name of "Oak Openings."
These woods, so peculiar to certain districts of country, are not
altogether without some variety, though possessing a general character
of sameness. The trees were of very uniform size, being little taller
than pear-trees, which they resemble a good deal in form; and having
trunks that rarely attain two feet in diameter. The variety is produced
by their distribution. In places they stand with a regularity resembling
that of an orchard; then, again, they are more scattered and less
formal, while wide breadths of the land are occasionally seen in which
they stand in copses, with vacant spaces, that bear no small affinity to
artificial lawns, being covered with verdure. The grasses are supposed
to be owing to the fires lighted periodically by the Indians in order to
clear their hunting-grounds.
Toward one of these grassy glades, which was spread on an almost
imperceptible acclivity, and which might have contained some fifty or
sixty acres of land, the reader is now requested to turn his eyes. Far
in the wilderness as was the spot, four men were there, and two of them
had even some of the appliances of civilization about them. The woods
around were the then unpeopled forest of Michigan; and the small winding
reach of placid water that was just visible in the distance, was an
elbow of the Kalamazoo, a beautiful little river that flows westward,
emptying its tribute into the vast expanse of Lake Michigan. Now, this
river has already become known, by its villages and farms, and railroads
and mills; but then, not a dwelling of more pretension than the wigwam
of the Indian, or an occasional shanty of some white adventurer,
had ever been seen on its banks. In that day, the whole of that fine
peninsula, with the exception of a narrow belt of country along the
Detroit River, which was settled by the French as far back as near the
close of the seventeenth century, was literally a wilderness. If a white
man found his way into it, it was as an Indian trader, a hunter, or an
adventurer in some other of the pursuits connected with border life and
the habits of the savages.
Of this last character were two of the men on the open glade just
mentioned, while their companions were of the race of the aborigines.
What is much more remarkable, the four were absolutely strangers to each
other's faces, having met for the first time in their lives, only an
hour previously to the commencement of our tale. By saying that they
were strangers to each other, we do not mean that the white men were
acquaintances, and the Indians strangers, but that neither of the four
had ever seen either of the party until they met on that grassy glade,
though fame had made them somewhat acquainted through their reputations.
At the moment when we desire to present this group to the imagination of
the reader, three of its number were grave and silent observers of
the movements of the fourth. The fourth individual was of middle size,
young, active, exceedingly well formed, and with a certain open
and frank expression of countenance, that rendered him at least
well-looking, though slightly marked with the small-pox. His real name
was Benjamin Boden, though he was extensively known throughout the
northwestern territories by the sobriquet of Ben Buzz--extensively as
to distances, if not as to people. By the voyageurs, and other French
of that region, he was almost universally styled le Bourdon or the
"Drone"; not, however, from his idleness or inactivity, but from the
circumstances that he was notorious for laying his hands on the
products of labor that proceeded from others. In a word, Ben Boden was
a "bee-hunter," and as he was one of the first to exercise his craft in
that portion of the country, so was he infinitely the most skilful and
prosperous. The honey of le Bourdon was not only thought to be purer and
of higher flavor than that of any other trader in the article, but it
was much the most abundant. There were a score of respectable families
on the two banks of the Detroit, who never purchased of any one else,
but who patiently waited for the arrival of the capacious bark canoe of
Buzz, in the autumn, to lay in their supplies of this savory nutriment
for the approaching winter. The whole family of griddle cakes, including
those of buckwheat, Indian rice, and wheaten flour, were more or less
dependent on the safe arrival of le Bourdon, for their popularity and
welcome. Honey was eaten with all; and wild honey had a reputation,
rightfully or not obtained, that even rendered it more welcome than that
which was formed by the labor and art of the domesticated bee.
The dress of le Bourdon was well adapted to his pursuits and life. He
wore a hunting-shirt and trousers, made of thin stuff, which was dyed
green, and trimmed with yellow fringe. This was the ordinary forest
attire of the American rifleman; being of a character, as it was
thought, to conceal the person in the woods, by blending its hues with
those of the forest. On his head Ben wore a skin cap, somewhat smartly
made, but without the fur; the weather being warm. His moccasins were
a good deal wrought, but seemed to be fading under the exposure of many
marches. His arms were excellent; but all his martial accoutrements,
even to a keen long-bladed knife, were suspended from the rammer of his
rifle; the weapon itself being allowed to lean, in careless confidence,
against the trunk of the nearest oak, as if their master felt there was
no immediate use for them.
Not so with the other three. Not only was each man well armed, but each
man kept his trusty rifle hugged to his person, in a sort of jealous
watchfulness; while the other white man, from time to time, secretly,
but with great minuteness, examined the flint and priming of his own
piece.
This second pale-face was a very different person from him just
described. He was still young, tall, sinewy, gaunt, yet springy and
strong, stooping and round-shouldered, with a face that carried a very
decided top-light in it, like that of the notorious Bardolph. In short,
whiskey had dyed the countenance of Gershom Waring with a tell-tale
hue, that did not less infallibly betray his destination than his speech
denoted his origin, which was clearly from one of the States of New
England. But Gershom had been so long at the Northwest as to have
lost many of his peculiar habits and opinions, and to have obtained
substitutes.
Of the Indians, one, an elderly, wary, experienced warrior, was
a Pottawattamie, named Elksfoot, who was well known at all the
trading-houses and "garrisons" of the northwestern territory, including
Michigan as low down as Detroit itself. The other red man was a young
Chippewa, or O-jeb-way, as the civilized natives of that nation now tell
us the word should be spelled. His ordinary appellation among his own
people was that of Pigeonswing; a name obtained from the rapidity
and length of his flights. This young man, who was scarcely turned
of five-and-twenty, had already obtained a high reputation among the
numerous tribes of his nation, as a messenger, or "runner."
Accident had brought these four persons, each and all strangers to one
another, in communication in the glade of the Oak Openings, which has
already been mentioned, within half an hour of the scene we are about
to present to the reader. Although the rencontre had been accompanied
by the usual precautions of those who meet in a wilderness, it had been
friendly so far; a circumstance that was in some measure owing to the
interest they all took in the occupation of the bee-hunter. The three
others, indeed, had come in on different trails, and surprised le
Bourdon in the midst of one of the most exciting exhibitions of his
art--an exhibition that awoke so much and so common an interest in the
spectators, as at once to place its continuance for the moment above all
other considerations. After brief salutations, and wary examinations of
the spot and its tenants, each individual had, in succession, given his
grave attention to what was going on, and all had united in begging
Ben Buzz to pursue his occupation, without regard to his visitors. The
conversation that took place was partly in English, and partly in one
of the Indian dialects, which luckily all the parties appeared to
understand. As a matter of course, with a sole view to oblige the
reader, we shall render what was said, freely, into the vernacular.
"Let's see, let's see, STRANger," cried Gershom, emphasizing the
syllable we have put in italics, as if especially to betray his origin,
"what you can do with your tools. I've heer'n tell of such doin's, but
never see'd a bee lined in all my life, and have a desp'rate fancy for
larnin' of all sorts, from 'rithmetic to preachin'."
"That comes from your Puritan blood," answered le Bourdon, with a quiet
smile, using surprisingly pure English for one in his class of life.
"They tell me you Puritans preach by instinct."
"I don't know how that is," answered Gershom, "though I can turn my hand
to anything. I heer'n tell, across at Bob Ruly (Bois Brulk [Footnote:
This unfortunate name, which it may be necessary to tell a portion of
our readers means "burnt wood," seems condemned to all sorts of abuses
among the linguists of the West. Among other pronunciations is that of
"Bob Ruly"; while an island near Detroit, the proper name of which is
"Bois Blanc," is familiarly known to the lake mariners by the name of
"Bobolo."]) of sich doin's, and would give a week's keep at Whiskey
Centre, to know how 'twas done."
"Whiskey Centre" was a sobriquet bestowed | 3,141.852913 |
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Transcriber's Note
Italic text is indicated by _underscores_. Non-italic text in italic
blocks is marked by ~swung dashes~.
A HISTORY OF
CHINESE LITERATURE
BY
HERBERT A. GILES, M. A., LL. D. (ABERD.)
PROFESSOR OF CHINESE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
AND LATE H. B. M. CONSUL AT NINGPO
[Illustration]
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1927
COPYRIGHT, 1901,
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
Printed in the United States of America
PREFACE
This is the first attempt made in any language, including Chinese, to
produce a history of Chinese literature.
Native scholars, with their endless critiques and appreciations of
individual works, do not seem ever to have contemplated anything of the
kind, realising, no doubt, the utter hopelessness, from a Chinese point
of view, of achieving even comparative success in a general historical
survey of the subject. The voluminous character of a literature which
was already in existence some six centuries before the Christian era,
and has run on uninterruptedly until the present date, may well have
given pause to writers aiming at completeness. The foreign student,
however, is on a totally different footing. It may be said without
offence that a work which would be inadequate to the requirements of
a native public, may properly be submitted to English readers as an
introduction into the great field which lies beyond.
Acting upon the suggestion of Mr. Gosse, to whom I am otherwise
indebted for many valuable hints, I have devoted a large portion of
this book to translation, thus enabling the Chinese author, so far as
translation will allow, to speak for himself. I have also added, here
and there, remarks by native critics, that the reader may be able to
form an idea of the point of view from which the Chinese judge their
own productions.
It only remains to be stated that the translations, with the exception
of a few passages from Legge's "Chinese Classics," in each case duly
acknowledged, are my own.
HERBERT A. GILES.
CAMBRIDGE.
CONTENTS
_BOOK THE FIRST--THE FEUDAL PERIOD_ (B.C. 600-200)
CHAP. PAGE
I. LEGENDARY AGES--EARLY CHINESE CIVILISATION--ORIGIN OF WRITING 3
II. CONFUCIUS--THE FIVE CLASSICS 7
III. THE FOUR BOOKS--MENCIUS 32
IV. MISCELLANEOUS WRITERS 43
V. POETRY--INSCRIPTIONS 50
VI. TAOISM--THE "TAO-TE-CHING" 56
_BOOK THE SECOND--THE HAN DYNASTY_
(B.C. 200-A.D. 200)
I. THE "FIRST EMPEROR"--THE BURNING OF THE BOOKS--MISCELLANEOUS
WRITERS 77
II. POETRY 97
III. HISTORY--LEXICOGRAPHY 102
IV. BUDDHISM 110
_BOOK THE THIRD--MINOR DYNASTIES_ (A.D. 200-600)
I. POETRY--MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE 119
II. CLASSICAL SCHOLARSHIP 137
_BOOK THE FOURTH--THE T'ANG DYNASTY_ (A.D. 600-900)
I. POETRY 143
II. CLASSICAL AND GENERAL LITERATURE 189
_BOOK THE FIFTH--THE SUNG DYNASTY_ (A.D. 900-1200)
I. THE INVENTION OF BLOCK-PRINTING 209
II. HISTORY--CLASSICAL AND GENERAL LITERATURE 212
III. POETRY 232
IV. DICTIONARIES--ENCYCLOPAEDIAS--MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE 238
_BOOK THE SIXTH--THE MONGOL DYNASTY_
(A.D. 1200-1368)
I. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE--POETRY 247
II. THE DRAMA 256
III. THE NOVEL 276
_BOOK THE SEVENTH--THE MING DYNASTY_
(A.D. 1368-1644)
I. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE--MATERIA MEDICA--ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF
AGRICULTURE 291
II. NOVELS AND PLAYS 309
III. POETRY 329
_BOOK THE EIGHTH--THE MANCHU DYNASTY_
(A.D. 1644-1900)
I. THE "LIAO CHAI"--THE "HUNG LOU MENG" 337
II. THE EMPERORS K'ANG HSI AND CH'IEN LUNG 385
III. CLASSICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE--POETRY 391
IV. WALL LITERATURE--JOURNALISM--WIT AND HUMOUR--PROVERBS AND
MAXIMS 425
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 441
INDEX 443
BOOK THE FIRST
_THE FEUDAL PERIOD_ (B.C. 600-200)
CHAPTER I
LEGENDARY AGES--EARLY CHINESE CIVILISATION--ORIGIN OF WRITING
The date of the beginning of all things has been nicely calculated by
Chinese chronologers. There was first of all a period when Nothing
existed, though some enthusiasts have attempted to deal with a period
antecedent even to that. Gradually Nothing took upon itself the form
and limitations of Unity, represented by a point at the centre of
a circle. Thus there was a Great Monad, a First Cause, an Aura, a
Zeitgeist, or whatever one may please to call it.
After countless ages, spent apparently in doing nothing, this Monad
split into Two Principles, one active, the other passive; one
positive, the other negative; light and darkness; male and female. The
interaction of these Two Principles resulted in the production of all
things, as we see them in the universe around us, 2,269,381 years ago.
Such is the cosmogony of the Chinese in a nutshell.
The more sober Chinese historians, however, are content to begin with a
sufficiently mythical emperor, who reigned only 2800 years before the
Christian era. The practice of agriculture, the invention of wheeled
vehicles, and the simpler arts of early civilisation are generally
referred to this period; but to the dispassionate European student it
is a period of myth and legend: in fact, we know very little about
it. Neither do we know much, in the historical sense, of the numerous
rulers whose names and dates appear in the chronology of the succeeding
two thousand years. It is not indeed until we reach the eighth century
B.C. that anything like history can be said to begin.
For reasons which will presently be made plain, the sixth century
B.C. is a convenient starting-point for the student of Chinese
literature.
[Sidenote: FEUDALISM]
China was then confined to a comparatively small area, lying for the
most part between the Yellow River on the north and the river Yang-tsze
on the south. No one knows where the Chinese came from. Some hold the
fascinating theory that they were emigrants from Accadia in the ancient
kingdom of Babylonia; others have identified them with the lost tribes
of Israel. No one seems to think they can possibly have originated in
the fertile plains where they are now found. It appears indeed to be
an ethnological axiom that every race must have come from somewhere
outside its own territory. However that may be, the China of the eighth
century B.C. consisted of a number of Feudal States, ruled by nobles
owning allegiance to a Central State, at the head of which was a king.
The outward tokens of subjection were homage and tribute; but after
all, the allegiance must have been more nominal than real, each State
being practically an independent kingdom. This condition of things
was the cause of much mutual jealousy, and often of bloody warfare,
several of the States hating one another quite as cordially as Athens
and Sparta at their best.
There was, notwithstanding, considerable physical civilisation in the
ancient States of those early days. Their citizens, when not employed
in cutting each other's throats, enjoyed a reasonable security of life
and property. They lived in well-built houses; they dressed in silk
or homespun; they wore shoes of leather; they carried umbrellas; they
sat on chairs and used tables; they rode in carts and chariots; they
travelled by boat; and they ate their food off plates and dishes of
pottery, coarse perhaps, yet still superior to the wooden trencher
common not so very long ago in Europe. They measured time by the
sundial, and in the Golden Age they had the two famous calendar trees,
representations of which have come down to us in sculpture, dating
from about A.D. 150. One of these trees put forth a leaf every day for
fifteen days, after which a leaf fell off daily for fifteen more days.
The other put forth a leaf once a month for half a year, after which a
leaf fell off monthly for a similar period. With these trees growing in
the courtyard, it was possible to say at a glance what was the day of
the month, and what was the month of the year. But civilisation proved
unfavourable to their growth, and the species became extinct.
In the sixth century B.C. the Chinese were also in possession
of a written language, fully adequate to the most varied expression of
human thought, and indeed almost identical with their present script,
allowing, among other things, for certain modifications of form brought
about by the substitution of paper and a camel's-hair brush for the
bamboo tablet and stylus of old. The actual stages by which that point
was reached are so far unknown to us. China has her Cadmus in the
person of a prehistoric individual named Ts'ang Chieh, who is said to
have had four eyes, and to have taken the idea of a written language
from the markings of birds' claws upon the sand. Upon the achievement
of his task the sky rained grain and evil spirits mourned by night.
Previous to this mankind had no other system than rude methods of
knotting cords and notching sticks for noting events or communicating
with one another at a distance.
As to the origin of the written language of China, invention is
altogether out of the question. It seems probable that in prehistoric
ages, the Chinese, like other peoples, began to make rude pictures of
the sun, moon, and stars, of man himself, of trees, of fire, of rain,
and they appear to have followed these up by ideograms of various
kinds. How far they went in this direction we can only surmise. There
are comparatively few obviously pictorial characters and ideograms
to be found even in the script of two thousand years ago; but
investigations carried on for many years by Mr. L. C. Hopkins, H.M.
Consul, Chefoo, and now approaching completion, point more and more
to the fact that the written language will some day be recognised as
systematically developed from pictorial symbols. It is, at any rate,
certain that at a very early date subsequent to the legendary period
of "knotted cords" and "notches," while the picture-symbols were still
comparatively few, some master-mind reached at a bound the phonetic
principle, from which point the rapid development of a written language
such as we now find would be an easy matter.
CHAPTER II
CONFUCIUS--THE FIVE CLASSICS
[Sidenote: BOOK OF HISTORY]
In B.C. 551 CONFUCIUS was born. He may be regarded as the founder of
Chinese literature. During his years of office as a Government servant
and his years of teaching and wandering as an exile, he found time
to rescue for posterity certain valuable literary fragments of great
antiquity, and to produce at least one original work of his own.
It is impossible to assert that before his time there was anything
in the sense of what we understand by the term general literature.
The written language appears to have been used chiefly for purposes
of administration. Many utterances, however, of early, not to say
legendary, rulers had been committed to writing at one time or another,
and such of these as were still extant were diligently collected and
edited by Confucius, forming what is now known as the _Shu Ching_ or
Book of History. The documents of which this work is composed are
said to have been originally one hundred in all, and they cover a
period extending from the twenty-fourth to the eighth century B.C.
They give us glimpses of an age earlier than that of Confucius, if not
actually so early as is claimed. The first two, for instance, refer to
the Emperors Yao and Shun, whose reigns, extending from B.C. 2357 to
2205, are regarded as the Golden Age of China. We read how the former
monarch "united the various parts of his domain in bonds of peace, so
that concord reigned among the black-haired people." He abdicated in
favour of Shun, who is described as being profoundly wise, intelligent,
and sincere. We are further told that Shun was chosen because of his
great filial piety, which enabled him to live in harmony with an
unprincipled father, a shifty stepmother, and an arrogant half-brother,
and, moreover, to effect by his example a comparative reformation of
their several characters.
We next come to a very famous personage, who founded the Hsia dynasty
in B.C. 2205, and is known as the Great Yue. It was he who, during the
reign of the Emperor Shun, successfully coped with a devastating flood,
which has been loosely identified with the Noachic Deluge, and in
reference to which it was said in the _Tso Chuan_, "How grand was the
achievement of Yue, how far-reaching his glorious energy! But for Yue we
should all have been fishes." The following is his own account (Legge's
translation):--
"The inundating waters seemed to assail the heavens, and in their vast
extent embraced the mountains and overtopped the hills, so that people
were bewildered and overwhelmed. I mounted my four conveyances (carts,
boats, sledges, and spiked shoes), and all along the hills hewed down
the woods, at the same time, along with Yi, showing the multitudes how
to get flesh to eat. I opened passages for the streams throughout the
nine provinces, and conducted them to the sea. I deepened the channels
and canals, and conducted them to the streams, at the same time, along
with Chi, sowing grain, and showing the multitudes how to procure
the food of toil in addition to flesh meat. I urged them further to
exchange what they had for what they had not, and to dispose of their
accumulated stores. In this way all the people got grain to eat, and
all the States began to come under good rule."
A small portion of the Book of History is in verse:--
"_The people should be cherished,
And should not be downtrodden.
The people are the root of a country,
And if the root is firm, the country will be tranquil._
* * * * *
_The palace a wild for lust,
The country a wild for hunting,
Rich wine, seductive music,
Lofty roofs, carved walls,--
Given any one of these,
And the result can only be ruin._"
From the date of the foundation of the Hsia dynasty the throne of the
empire was transmitted from father to son, and there were no more
abdications in favour of virtuous sages. The fourth division of the
Book of History deals with the decadence of the Hsia rulers and their
final displacement in B.C. 1766 by T'ang the Completer, founder of the
Shang dynasty. By B.C. 1122, the Shang sovereigns had similarly lapsed
from the kingly qualities of their founder to even a lower level of
degradation and vice. Then arose one of the purest and most venerated
heroes of Chinese history, popularly known by his canonisation as
Wen Wang. He was hereditary ruler of a principality in the modern
province of Shensi, and in B.C. 1144 he was denounced as dangerous to
the throne. He was seized and thrown into prison, where he passed two
years, occupying himself with the Book of Changes, to which we shall
presently return. At length the Emperor, yielding to the entreaties of
the people, backed up by the present of a beautiful concubine and some
fine horses, set him at liberty and commissioned him to make war upon
the frontier tribes. To his dying day he never ceased to remonstrate
against the cruelty and corruption of the age, and his name is still
regarded as one of the most glorious in the annals of the empire. It
was reserved for his son, known as Wu Wang, to overthrow the Shang
dynasty and mount the throne as first sovereign of the Chou dynasty,
which was to last for eight centuries to come. The following is a
speech by the latter before a great assembly of nobles who were siding
against the House of Shang. It is preserved among others in the Book of
History, and is assigned to the year B.C. 1133 (Legge's translation):--
"Heaven and Earth are the parents of all creatures; and of all
creatures man is the most highly endowed. The sincere, intelligent,
and perspicacious among men becomes the great sovereign, and the great
sovereign is the parent of the people. But now, Shou, the king of
Shang, does not reverence Heaven above, and inflicts calamities on the
people below. He has been abandoned to drunkenness, and reckless in
lust. He has dared to exercise cruel oppression. Along with criminals
he has punished all their relatives. He has put men into office on
the hereditary principle. He has made it his pursuit to have palaces,
towers, pavilions, embankments, ponds, and all other extravagances,
to the most painful injury of you, the myriad people. He has burned
and roasted the loyal and good. He has ripped up pregnant women. Great
Heaven was moved with indignation, and charged my deceased father, Wen,
reverently to display its majesty; but he died before the work was
completed.
"On this account I, Fa, who am but a little child, have, by means
of you, the hereditary rulers of my friendly States, contemplated
the government of Shang; but Shou has no repentant heart. He abides
squatting on his heels, not serving God or the spirits of heaven and
earth, neglecting also the temple of his ancestors, and not sacrificing
in it. The victims and the vessels of millet all become the prey of
wicked robbers; and still he says, 'The people are mine: the decree is
mine,' never trying to correct his contemptuous mind. Now Heaven, to
protect the inferior people, made for them rulers, and made for them
instructors, that they might be able to be aiding to God, and secure
the tranquillity of the four quarters of the empire. In regard to who
are criminals and who are not, how dare I give any allowance to my own
wishes?
"'Where the strength is the same, measure the virtue of the parties;
where the virtue is the same, measure their righteousness.' Shou has
hundreds of thousands and myriads of ministers, but they have hundreds
of thousands and myriads of minds; I have three thousand ministers, but
they have one mind. The iniquity of Shang is full. Heaven gives command
to destroy it. If I did not comply with Heaven, my iniquity would be as
great.
"I, who am a little child, early and late am filled with apprehensions.
I have received charge from my deceased father, Wen; I have offered
special sacrifice to God; I have performed the due services to the
great Earth; and I lead the multitude of you to execute the punishment
appointed by Heaven. Heaven compassionates the people. What the people
desire, Heaven will be found to give effect to. Do you aid me, the one
man, to cleanse for ever all within the four seas. Now is the time!--it
may not be lost."
Two of the documents which form the Book of History are directed
against luxury and drunkenness, to both of which the people seemed
likely to give way even within measurable distance of the death of Wen
Wang. The latter had enacted that wine (that is to say, ardent spirits
distilled from rice) should only be used on sacrificial occasions, and
then under strict supervision; and it is laid down, almost as a general
principle, that all national misfortunes, culminating in the downfall
of a dynasty, may be safely ascribed to the abuse of wine.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: THE ODES]
The _Shih Ching_, or Book of Odes, is another work for the preservation
of which we are indebted to Confucius. It consists of a collection
of rhymed ballads in various metres, usually four words to the line,
composed between the reign of the Great Yue and the beginning of the
sixth century B.C. These, which now number 305, are popularly known
as the "Three Hundred," and are said by some to have been selected
by Confucius from no less than 3000 pieces. They are arranged under
four heads, as follows:--(_a_) Ballads commonly sung by the people in
the various feudal States and forwarded periodically by the nobles to
their suzerain, the Son of Heaven. The ballads were then submitted
to the Imperial Musicians, who were able to judge from the nature of
such compositions what would be the manners and customs prevailing
in each State, and to advise the suzerain accordingly as to the good
or evil administration of each of his vassal rulers. (_b_) Odes sung
at ordinary entertainments given by the suzerain. (_c_) Odes sung on
grand occasions when the feudal nobles were gathered together. (_d_)
Panegyrics and sacrificial odes.
Confucius himself attached the utmost importance to his labours in this
direction. "Have you learned the Odes?" he inquired upon one occasion
of his son; and on receiving an answer in the negative, immediately
told the youth that until he did so he would be unfit for the society
of intellectual men. Confucius may indeed be said to have anticipated
the apophthegm attributed by Fletcher of Saltoun to a "very wise man,"
namely, that he who should be allowed to make a nation's "ballads need
care little who made its laws." And it was probably this appreciation
by Confucius that gave rise to an extraordinary literary craze in
reference to these Odes. Early commentators, incapable of seeing the
simple natural beauties of the poems, which have furnished endless
household words and a large stock of phraseology to the language of
the present day, and at the same time unable to ignore the deliberate
judgment of the Master, set to work to read into countryside ditties
deep moral and political significations. Every single one of the
immortal Three Hundred has thus been forced to yield some hidden
meaning and point an appropriate moral. If a maiden warns her lover not
to be too rash--
"_Don't come in, sir, please!
Don't break my willow-trees!
Not that that would very much grieve me;
But alack-a-day! what would my parents say?
And love you as I may,
I cannot bear to think what that would be,_"--
commentators promptly discover that the piece refers to a feudal noble
whose brother had been plotting against him, and to the excuses of the
former for not visiting the latter with swift and exemplary punishment.
Another independent young lady may say--
"_If you will love me dear, my lord,
I'll pick up my skirts and cross the ford,
But if from your heart you turn me out...
Well, you're not the only man about,
You silly, silly, silliest lout!_"--
still commentaries are not wanting to show that these straightforward
words express the wish of the people of a certain small State that
some great State would intervene and put an end to an existing feud in
the ruling family. Native scholars are, of course, hide-bound in the
traditions of commentators, but European students will do well to seek
the meaning of the Odes within the compass of the Odes themselves.
Possibly the very introduction of these absurdities may have helped to
preserve to our day a work which would otherwise have been considered
too trivial to merit the attention of scholars. Chinese who are in
the front rank of scholarship know it by heart, and each separate
piece has been searchingly examined, until the force of exegesis can
no farther go. There is one famous line which runs, according to the
accepted commentary, "The muddiness of the Ching river appears from
the (clearness of the) Wei river." In 1790 the Emperor Ch'ien Lung,
dissatisfied with this interpretation, sent a viceroy to examine the
rivers. The latter reported that the Ching was really clear and the Wei
muddy, so that the wording of the line must mean "The Ching river is
made muddy by the Wei river."
The following is a specimen of one of the longer of the Odes, saddled,
like all the rest, with an impossible political interpretation, of
which nothing more need be said:--
"_You seemed a guileless youth enough,
Offering for silk your woven stuff;[1]
But silk was not required by you;
I was the silk you had in view.
With you I crossed the ford, and while
We wandered on for many a mile
I said, 'I do not wish delay,
But friends must fix our wedding-day...
Oh, do not let my words give pain,
But with the autumn come again.'_
"_And then I used to watch and wait
To see you passing through the gate;
And sometimes, when I watched in vain,
My tears would flow like falling rain;
But when I saw my darling boy,
I laughed and cried aloud for joy.
The fortune-tellers, you declared,
Had all pronounced us duly paired;
'Then bring a carriage,' I replied,
'And I'll away to be your bride.'_
"_The mulberry-leaf, not yet undone
By autumn chill, shines in the sun.
O tender dove, I would advise,
Beware the fruit that tempts thy eyes!
O maiden fair, not yet a spouse,
List lightly not to lovers' vows!
A man may do this wrong, and time
Will fling its shadow o'er his crime;
A woman who has lost her name
Is doomed to everlasting shame._
"_The mulberry-tree upon the ground
Now sheds its yellow leaves around.
Three years have slipped away from me
Since first I shared your poverty;
And now again, alas the day!
Back through the ford I take my way.
My heart is still unchanged, but you
Have uttered words now proved untrue;
And you have left me to deplore
A love that can be mine no more._
"_For three long years I was your wife,
And led in truth a toilsome life;
Early to rise and late to bed,
Each day alike passed o'er my head.
I honestly fulfilled my part,
And you--well, you have broke my heart.
The truth my brothers will not know,
So all the more their gibes will flow.
I grieve in silence and repine
That such a wretched fate is mine._
"_Ah, hand in hand to face old age!--
Instead, I turn a bitter page.
O for the river-banks of yore;
O for the much-loved marshy shore;
The hours of girlhood, with my hair
Ungathered, as we lingered there.
The words we spoke, that seemed so true,
I little thought that I should rue;
I little thought the vows we swore
Would some day bind us two no more._"
Many of the Odes deal with warfare, and with the separation of wives
from their husbands; others, with agriculture and with the chase,
with marriage and feasting. The ordinary sorrows of life are fully
represented, and to these may be added frequent complaints against
the harshness of officials, one speaker going so far as to wish he
were a tree without consciousness, without home, and without family.
The old-time theme of "eat, drink, and be merry" is brought out as
follows:--
"_You have coats and robes,
But you do not trail them;
You have chariots and horses,
But you do not ride in them.
By and by you will die,
And another will enjoy them._
"_You have courtyards and halls,
But they are not sprinkled and swept;
You have bells and drums,
But they are not struck.
By and by you will die,
And another will possess them._
"_You have wine and food;
Why not play daily on your lute,
That you may enjoy yourself now
And lengthen your days?
By and by you will die,
And another will take your place._"
The Odes are especially valuable for the insight they give us into the
manners, and customs, and beliefs of the Chinese before the age of
Confucius. How far back they extend it is quite impossible to say. An
eclipse of the sun, "an event of evil omen | 3,141.94557 |
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Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_.
The text is annotated with numerous footnotes, which were numbered
sequentially on each page. On occasion, a footnote itself is annotated
by a note, using an asterisk as the reference. This distinction is
followed here. Those ‘notes on notes’ are given alphabetic sequence (A,
B., etc.), and are positioned directly following the main note.
Since there are over 1500 notes in this volume, they have been gathered
at each chapter’s end, and resequenced for each chapter, using a dot
notation for chapter and page (e.g. 10.4.2).
The notes are a combination of those of the author, and of the editor of
this edition. The latter are enclosed in square brackets.
Finally, the pagination of the original edition, published in the
1820’s, was preserved by Crooke for ease of reference by including those
page numbers in the text, also enclosed in square brackets.
Crooke’s plan for the renovation of the Tod’s original text, including a
discussion of the transliteration of Hindi words, is given in detail in
the Preface. It should be noted that the use of the macron to guide
pronunciation is very unevenly followed, and there was no intent here to
regularize it.
There are a number of references to a map, sometimes referred to as
appearing in Volume I. In this edition, the map appears at the end of
Volume III.
Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Given
the history of the text, it was thought best to leave all orthography as
printed.
Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details
regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered during its
preparation.
ANNALS AND ANTIQUITIES
OF RAJASTHAN
[Illustration:
COLONEL JAMES TOD.
(By permission of Lt.-Col. C. D. Blunt-Mackenzie, R.A.)
_Frontispiece._
]
ANNALS AND ANTIQUITIES
OF
RAJASTHAN
OR THE CENTRAL AND WESTERN
RAJPUT STATES OF INDIA
BY
LIEUT.-COL. JAMES TOD
LATE POLITICAL AGENT TO THE WESTERN RAJPUT STATES
EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY
WILLIAM CROOKE, C.I.E.
HON. D.SC. OXON., B.A., F.R.A.I.
LATE OF THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. II
HUMPHREY MILFORD
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON EDINBURGH GLASGOW NEW YORK
TORONTO MELBOURNE BOMBAY
1920
CONTENTS
PAGE
BOOK IV—_continued_
ANNALS OF MEWAR
CHAPTER 19
Influence of the hierarchy in Rajputana—Emulation of its
princes in grants to the priesthood—Analogy between the
customs of the Hindus, in this respect, and those of the
ancient people—Superstition of the lower orders—Secret
influence of the Brahmans on the higher classes—Their
frauds—Ecclesiastical dues from the land, etc.—The Saivas
of Rajasthan—The worship and shrine of Eklinga—The
Jains—Their numbers and extensive power—The temple of
Nathdwara, and worship of Kanhaiya—The privilege of
Sanctuary—Predominance of the doctrines of Kanhaiya
beneficial to Rajput society 589
CHAPTER 20
The origin of Kanhaiya or Krishna—Sources of a plurality of
gods among the Hindus—Allegories respecting Krishna
elucidated—Songs of Jayadeva celebrating the loves of
Kanhaiya—The Rasmandal, a mystic dance—Govardhana—Krishna
anciently worshipped in caves—His conquest of the ‘Black
serpent’ allegorical of the contests between the Buddhists
and Vaishnavas—Analogies between the legends of Krishna
and Western mythology—Festivals of Krishna—Pilgrimage to
Nathdwara—The seven gods of that temple—Its Pontiff 621
APPENDIX 644
CHAPTER 21
Importance of mythological history—Aboriginal tribes of
India—The Rajputs are conquerors—Solar year of the
Hindus—Opened at the winter solstice—The Vasant, or spring
festival—Birth of the Sun—Common origin assumed of the
Rajputs and Getic tribe of Scandinavia—Surya, the sun-god
of all nations, Thor, Syrus, Sol—Sun-worship—The Aheria,
or spring-hunt, described—Boar-feast—Phalgun festival—The
Rajput Saturnalia—Games on horseback—Rites to the
Manes—Festival of Sitala as guardian of children—Rana’s
birthday—Phuladola, the Rajput Floralia—Festival of
Gauri—Compared with the Diana of Egypt—The Isis or Ertha
of the Suevi—And the Phrygian Cybele—Anniversary of
Rama—Fête of Kamdeva or Cupid—Little Ganggor—Inundation of
the capital—Festival of Rambha or Venus—Rajput and Druidic
rites—Their analogy—Serpent worship—Rakhi, or Festival of
the bracelet 650
CHAPTER 22
Festivals continued—Adoration of the sword: its Scythic
origin—The Dasahra, or military festival: its Scythic
origin—Torans or triumphal arcs—Ganesa of the Rajputs and
Janus of the Romans—Worship of arms: of the magic brand of
Mewar, compared with the enchanted sword, Tyrfing, of the
Edda—Birth of Kumara, the Rajput Mars, compared with the
Roman divinity—Birth of Ganga: her analogy to
Pallas—Adoration of the moon—Worship of Lakshmi, or
Fortune; of Yama, or Pluto—Diwali, or festival of lamps,
in Arabia, in China, in Egypt, and in India—Annakuta and
Jaljatra—Festivals sacred to the Ceres and Neptune of the
Hindus—Festival of the autumnal equinox—Reflections on the
universal worship of the elements, Fire, Light,
Water—Festival sacred to Mithras or Vishnu, as the sun—The
Phallus: its etymology—Rajput doctrine of the
Triad—Symbols Vishnu, as the sun-god: his messenger
Garuda, the eagle: his charioteer Aruna, or the dawn—Sons
of Aruna—Fable analogous to that of Icarus—Rites of Vishnu
on the vernal equinox and summer solstice—Dolayatra, or
festival of the ark, compared with the ark of Osiris, and
Argonautic expedition of the Greeks—Etymology of
Argonaut—Ethiopia the Lanka of the Hindus—Their sea-king,
Sagara—Rama, or Ramesa, chief of the Cushite races of
India—Ramesa of the Rajputs and Rameses of Egypt
compared—Reflections 679
CHAPTER 23
The nicer shades of character difficult to catch—Morals more
obvious and less changeable than manners—Dissimilarity of
manners in the various races of Rajasthan—Rajputs have
deteriorated in manners as they declined in power—Regard
and deference paid to women in Rajasthan—Seclusion of the
Females no mark of their degradation—High spirit of the
Rajput princesses—Their unbounded devotion to their
husbands—Examples from the chronicles and bardic
histories—Anecdotes in more recent times—Their
magnanimity—Delicacy—Courage and presence of mind—Anecdote
of Sadhu of Pugal and Karamdevi, daughter of the Mohil
chief—The seclusion of the females increases their
influence—Historical evidences of its extent 707
CHAPTER 24
Origin of female immolation—The sacrifice of Sati, the wife
of Iswara—The motive to it considered—Infanticide—Its
causes among the Rajputs, the Rajkumars, and the
Jarejas—The rite of Johar—Female captives in war
enslaved—Summary of the Rajput character—Their familiar
habits—The use of opium—Hunting—The use of weapons—Jethis,
or wrestlers—Armouries—Music—Feats of dexterity—Maharaja
Sheodan Singh—Literary qualifications of the
princes—Household economy—Furniture—Dress, etc. 737
PERSONAL NARRATIVE
CHAPTER 25
Valley of Udaipur—Departure for Marwar—Encamp on the heights
of Tus—Resume the march—Distant view of
Udaipur—Deopur—Zalim Singh—Reach Pallana—Ram Singh
Mehta—Manikchand—Ex-raja of Narsinghgarh—False policy
pursued by the British Government in 1817-18—Departure
from Pallana—Aspect and geological character of the
country—Nathdwara ridge—Arrival at the city of
Nathdwara—Visit from the Mukhya of the temple—Departure
for the village of Usarwas—Benighted—Elephant in a
bog—Usarwas—A Sannyasi—March to Samecha—The Shera
Nala—Locusts—Coolness of the air—Samecha—March to Kelwara,
the capital—Elephant’s pool—Murcha—Kherli—Maharaja Daulat
Singh—Kumbhalmer—Its architecture, remains, and
history—March to the ‘Region of Death,’ or Marwar—The
difficult nature of the country—A party of native
horsemen—Bivouac in the glen 760
CHAPTER 26
The Mers or Meras: their history and manners—The Barwatia of
Gokulgarh—Forms of outlawry—Ajit Singh, the chief of
Ghanerao—Plains of Marwar—Chief of Rupnagarh—Anecdote
respecting Desuri—Contrast between the Sesodias of Mewar
and the Rathors of Marwar—Traditional history of the
Rajputs—Ghanerao—Kishandas, the Rana’s envoy—Local
discrimination between Mewar and Marwar—Ancient feuds—The
_aonla_ and the _bawal_—Aspect of Marwar—Nadol—Superiority
of the Chauhan race—Guga of Bhatinda—Lakha of Ajmer: his
ancient fortress at Nadol—Jain relic there—The Hindu
ancient arch or vault—Inscriptions—Antiquities at
Nadol—Indara—Its villages—Pali, a commercial mart—Articles
of commerce—The bards and genealogists the chief
carriers—The ‘Hill of Virtue’—Khankhani—Affray between two
caravans—Barbarous self-sacrifices of the
Bhats—Jhalamand—March to Jodhpur—Reception _en route_ by
the Chiefs of Pokaran and Nimaj—Biography of these
nobles—Sacrifice of Surthan of Nimaj—Encamp at the
capital—Negotiation for the ceremonies of reception at the
Court of Jodhpur 789
CHAPTER 27
Jodhpur: town and castle—Reception by the Raja—Person and
character of Raja Man Singh—Visits to the Raja—Events in
his history—Death of Raja Bhim—Deonath, the high-priest of
Marwar—His assassination—The acts which succeeded
it—Intrigues against the Raja—Dhonkal Singh, a pretender
to the _gaddi_—Real or affected derangement of the
Raja—Associates his son in the government—Recalled to the
direction of affairs—His deep and artful policy—Visit to
Mandor, the ancient capital—Cenotaphs of the
Rathors—Cyclopean architecture of Mandor—Nail-headed
characters—The walls—Remains of the palace—Toran, or
triumphal arch—Than of Thana Pir—Glen of
Panchkunda—Statues carved from the rock—Gardens at
Mandor—An ascetic—Entertainment at the palace—The Raja
visits the envoy—Departure from Jodhpur 820
CHAPTER 28
Nandla—Bisalpur—Remains of the ancient city—Pachkalia, or
Bichkalia—Inscription—Pipar—Inscription confirming the
ancient chronicles of Mewar—Geological details—Legend of
Lake Sampu—Lakha Phulani—Madreo—Bharunda—Badan Singh—His
chivalrous fate—Altar to Partap—Indawar—Jat
cultivators—Stratification of Indawar—Merta—Memory of
Aurangzeb—Dhonkal Singh—Jaimall, the | 3,142.245794 |
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Transcriber's Note
Bold text is indicated by =equals signs=, and italics by _underscores_.
THE HEART OF ENGLAND
THE HEART OF ENGLAND SERIES
This Series opens with a new work by Mr. EDWARD THOMAS, that curious
and enthusiastic explorer of the English Countryside, whose prose
style gives him a claim to be regarded as the successor, as he is the
biographer, of Richard Jefferies. The Series includes a new edition
of Mr. THOMAS’S other work, “The Heart of England,” and Mr. HILAIRE
BELLOC’S “The Historic Thames.” These two volumes were originally
issued in limited editions at one Guinea net per volume.
=THE SOUTH COUNTRY.= By EDWARD THOMAS. Small crown 8vo. =3s. 6d.= net.
Mr. Thomas in this new book gives his impressions of a year’s
wanderings afoot as the seasons change through Kent, Sussex, Hampshire,
Wiltshire and Cornwall. It is a prose-poem of the most beautiful
counties in England.
THE HEART OF ENGLAND. By EDWARD THOMAS. Small crown 8vo. =3s. 6d.= net.
THE HISTORIC THAMES. By HILAIRE BELLOC, M.P. =3s. 6d.= net.
_Prospectus of above Books sent post free on application._
J. M. DENT & CO.
29-30, BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
THE HEART OF
ENGLAND
_by Edward Thomas_
LONDON
_J. M. DENT & CO._
_1909_
]
_All rights reserved_
TO
HENRY W. NEVINSON
CONTENTS
PART I.
LEAVING TOWN
CHAP. PAGE
I. LEAVING TOWN 1
PART II
THE LOWLAND
II. FAUNUS 21
III. NOT HERE, O APOLLO! 26
IV. WALKING WITH GOOD COMPANY 28
V. NO MAN’S GARDEN 31
VI. MARCH DOUBTS 37
VII. A DECORATED CHURCH 41
VIII. GARLAND DAY 44
IX. AN OLD WOOD 49
X. IN A FARMYARD 52
XI. MEADOWLAND 56
XII. AN OLD FARM 64
XIII. POPPIES 69
XIV. AUGUST 73
XV. OLD-FASHIONED TIMES 77
XVI. ONE GREEN FIELD 83
XVII. THE BROOK 88
XVIII. AN AUTUMN GARDEN 93
XIX. THE WALNUT TREE 97
XX. A GOLDEN AGE 100
XXI. THE VILLAGE 103
XXII. ST. MARTIN’S SUMMER 118
XXIII. THE PRIDE OF THE MORNING 121
XXIV. THE METAMORPHOSIS 124
XXV. EARTH CHILDREN 126
XXVI. NOVEMBER RAIN 138
XXVII. JANUARY SUNSHINE 140
XXVIII. THE BARGE 143
XXIX. A WINTER MORNING 146
PART III
THE UPLAND
XXX. CHERRY BLOSSOM 153
XXXI. THE FOX HUNT 155
XXXII. APPLE BLOSSOM 166
XXXIII. A LITTLE BEFORE HARVEST 170
XXXIV. AUTUMN BELLS 174
XXXV. SUNDAY 176
PART IV.
THE MOUNTAINS
XXXVI. THE FIRST DAFFODILS 183
XXXVII. THE MIRROR 192
XXXVIII. UNDER THE MOOR 198
XXXIX. A HARVEST MOON 202
XL. THE INN 205
PART V
THE SEA
XLI. A MARCH HAUL 211
XLII. FISHING BOATS 214
XLIII. CLOUDS OVER THE SEA 216
XLIV. THE MARSH 220
XLV. ONE SAIL AT SEA 223
XLVI. THE CASTLE OF CARBONEK 225
NOTE
Of the five songs printed at the end of this book, only “La Fille du
Roi” has been published before, I believe. “The Holm Bank Hunting Song”
and “Poor Old Horse” were sung by competitors for folk-song prizes
at the annual Westmoreland Musical Festival, and I owe them to the
kindness of Mr. George Rathbone. “The Mowing Song” and “Mary, come into
the Field,” were given to me by friends.
EDWARD THOMAS.
PART I
LEAVING TOWN
THE HEART OF ENGLAND
CHAPTER I
LEAVING TOWN
Sunday afternoon had perfected the silence of the suburban street.
Every one had gone into his house to tea; none had yet started for
church or promenade; the street was empty, except for a white pigeon
that pecked idly in the middle of the road and once leaned upon one
wing, raised the other so as to expose her tender side and took the
rain deliciously; so calm and unmolested was the hour.
The houses were in unbroken rows and arranged in pairs, of which one
had a bay window on the ground floor and one had not. Some had laurels
in front; some had names. But they were so much alike that the street
resembled a great storehouse where yards of goods, all of one pattern,
are exposed, all with that painful lack of character that makes us wish
to rescue one and take it away and wear it, and soil it, and humanise
it rapidly.
Soon a boy of nine years old came out of one house and stood at the
gate. At first he moved briskly and looked in every direction as if
expecting to see some one whom he knew; but in a little while he paused
and merely looked towards the pigeon, so fixedly that perhaps he
saw it not. The calm silenced him, took him into its bosom, yet also
depressed him. Had he dared, he would have shouted or run; he would
have welcomed the sound of a piano, of a dog barking, of a starling
coldly piping. While he still paused an old man rounded the corner of
the street and came down in the roadway towards him.
The old man was small and straight, and to his thin figure the remains
of a long black coat and grey trousers adhered with singular grace.
You could not say that he was well dressed, but rather that he was in
the penultimate stage of a transformation like Dryope’s or Daphne’s,
which his pale face had not altogether escaped. His neglected body
seemed to have grown this grey rind that flapped like birch bark. Had
he been born in it the clothing could not have been more apt. | 3,142.348589 |
2023-11-16 19:09:26.4319550 | 2,167 | 219 |
Produced by Chris Curnow, Harry Lame and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Notes:
Text between underscores represents _italics_, small capitals have been
transcribed as ALL CAPITALS.
Curly brackets indicate {subscripts}; letters between square brackets
(such as [T] and [U]) represent the shape rahter than the letter itself.
More Transcriber's Notes may be found at the end of this text.
THE
ANATOMY OF BRIDGEWORK
THE
ANATOMY OF BRIDGEWORK
BY
WILLIAM HENRY THORPE
ASSOC. M. INST. C. E.
WITH 103 ILLUSTRATIONS
[Illustration]
London
E. & F. N. SPON, LIMITED, 57 HAYMARKET
New York
SPON & CHAMBERLAIN, 123 LIBERTY STREET
1906
PREFACE
In offering this little book to the reader interested in Bridgework, the
author desires to express his acknowledgments to the proprietors of
"Engineering," in which journal the papers first appeared, for their
courtesy in facilitating the production in book form.
It may possibly happen that the scanning of these pages will induce
others to observe and collect information extending our knowledge of
this subject--information which, while familiar to maintenance engineers
of experience, has not been so readily available as is desirable.
No theory which fails to stand the test of practical working can
maintain its claims to regard; the study of the behaviour of old work
has, therefore, a high educational value, and tends to the occasional
correction of views which might otherwise be complacently retained.
60 WINSHAM STREET,
CLAPHAM COMMON, LONDON, S.W.
_October_, 1906.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION--GIRDER BEARINGS.
PAGE
Pressure distribution--Square and skew bearings--Fixed bearings--
Knuckles--Rollers--Yield of supports 1
CHAPTER II.
MAIN GIRDERS.
_Plate webs_: Improper loading of flanges--Twisting of girders--
Remedial measures--Cracks in webs--Stiffening of webs--[T]
stiffeners 9
_Open webs_: Common faults--Top booms--Buckling of bottom booms--
Counterbracing--Flat members 17
CHAPTER III.
BRIDGE FLOORS.
Liability to defects--Impact--Ends of cross and longitudinal
girders--Awkward riveting--Fixed ends to cross girders--Plated
floor--Liberal depths desirable--Type connections--Effect of "skew"
on floor--Water-tightness--Drainage--Timber floors--Jack arches--
Corrugated sheeting--Ballast--Rail joints--Effect of main girders
on floors 20
CHAPTER IV.
BRACING.
Effect of bracing on girders--Influence of skew on bracing--Flat
bars--Overhead girders--Main girders stiffened from floor--
Stiffening of light girders--Incomplete bracing--Tall piers--Sea
piers 34
CHAPTER V.
RIVETED CONNECTIONS.
Latitude in practice--Laboratory experiments--Care in considering
practical instances--Main girder web rivets--Lattice girders
investigated--Rivets in small girders--Faulty bridge floor--
Stresses in rivets--Cross girder connections--Tension in rivets--
Defective rivets--Loose rivets--Table of actual rivet stresses--
Bearing pressure--Permissible stresses--Proposed table--Immunity of
road bridges from loose rivets--Rivet spacing 45
CHAPTER VI.
HIGH STRESS.
Elastic limit--Care in calculation--Impact--Examples of high stress
--Early examples of high stress in steel girders--Tabulated
examples--General remarks 61
CHAPTER VII.
DEFORMATIONS.
Various kinds--Flexing of girder flanges--Examples--Settlement
deformations--Creeping--Temperature changes--Local distortions--
Imperfect workmanship--Deformation of cast-iron arches 73
CHAPTER VIII.
DEFLECTIONS.
Differences as between new work and old--Influence of booms and web
structure on deflection--Yield of rivets and stiffness of
connections--Working formulae--Set--Effect of floor system--
Deflection diagrams--Loads quickly applied--"Drop" loads--Flexible
girders--Measuring deflections--New method of observing deflections
--Effect of running load 85
CHAPTER IX.
DECAY AND PAINTING.
Examples of rusting of wrought-iron girders--Girder over sea-water
--Rate of rusting--Steelwork--Precautions--Red-lead--Repainting--
Scraping--Girders built into masonry--Cast iron--Effect of sea-
water on cast iron--Examples--Tabulated observations--Percentage of
submersion--Quality of metal 96
CHAPTER X.
EXAMINATION, REPAIR, AND STRENGTHENING OF RIVETED BRIDGES.
Purpose--Methods of examination--Calculations--Stress in old work--
Methods of reducing stress--Repair--Loose rivets--Replacing wasted
flange plates--Adding new to old sections--Principles governing
additions--Example--Strengthening lattice girder bracings--Bracing
between girders--Strengthening floors--Distributing girders 107
CHAPTER XI.
STRENGTHENING OF RIVETED BRIDGES BY CENTRE GIRDERS.
Principal methods in use--Method of calculation--Adjustments--
Connections--Method of execution--Checks--Effect of skew on method
considered--Results of calculation for a typical case--Probable
error--Practical examples--Special case--Method of determining
flexure curves 122
CHAPTER XII.
CAST-IRON BRIDGES.
Limitations of cast iron--Stress examples--Advantages and
disadvantages--Foundry stresses--Examples--Want of ductility of
cast iron--Repairs--Restricted possibilities 141
CHAPTER XIII.
TIMBER BRIDGES.
Perishable nature--Causes of decay--Sag--Lateral bracing--Piles--
Uncertainty respecting decay--Examples--Conditions and practice
favourable to durability--Bracing--Protection--Repair--Piles--Cost 149
CHAPTER XIV.
MASONRY BRIDGES.
Definition--Cause of defects or failure--Spreading of abutments--
Closing in--Example--Stop piers--Example of failure--Strength of
rubble arch--Equilibrium of arches--Effect of vibration on masonry
--Safety centring--Methods of repair--Pointing--Rough dressed
stonework 157
CHAPTER XV.
LIFE OF BRIDGES--RELATIVE MERITS.
Previous history--Causes of limited life--Tabulated examples of
short-lived metallic bridges--Timber and masonry bridges--
Durability--Maintenance charges--First cost--Comparative merits--
Choice of material 165
CHAPTER XVI.
RECONSTRUCTION AND WIDENING OF BRIDGES.
CONCLUSION.
Measuring up--Railway under-bridges--Methods of reconstruction in
common use--Reconstruction of bridges of many openings--Timber
staging--Traffic arrangements--Sunday work--Railway over-bridges--
Widenings--Junction of new and old work--Concluding remarks--Study
of old bridgework 172
INDEX 187
THE
ANATOMY OF BRIDGEWORK.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
No book has, so far as the author is aware, been written upon that
aspect of bridgework to be treated in the following pages. No excuse
need, therefore, be given for adding to the already large amount of
published matter dealing with bridges. Indeed, as it too often happens
that the designing of such constructions, and their after-maintenance,
are in this country entirely separated, it cannot but be useful to give
such results of the behaviour of bridges, whether new or old, as have
come under observation.
In the early days of metallic bridges there was of necessity no
experience available to guide the engineer in his endeavour to avoid
objectionable features in design, and he was, as a result, compelled to
rely upon his own foresight and judgment in any attempt to anticipate
the effects of those influences to which his work might later be
subject. How heavily handicapped he must have been under these
conditions is evident from the mass of information since acquired by the
experimental study of the behaviour of metals under stress, and the
growth of the literature of bridgework during the last forty years. That
many mistakes were made is little occasion for surprise; rather is it a
cause for admiration that some very fine bridges, still in use, were
the product of that time. Much may be learned from the study of defects
and failures, even though they be of such a character that no
experienced designer would now furnish like examples.
Modern instances may, none the less, be found, with faults repeated,
which should long since have disappeared from all bridgework, and are
only to be accounted for by the unnatural divorce of design and
maintenance already referred to. As the reader proceeds, it may appear
that details are occasionally touched upon of a character altogether too
crude and objectionable to need comment; but the consideration of these
cases is none the | 3,142.451995 |
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Produced by Ernest Schaal, Beginners Projects and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pg | 3,142.947839 |
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The World As Will And Idea
By
Arthur Schopenhauer
Translated From The German By
R. B. Haldane, M.A.
And
J. Kemp, M.A.
Vol. II.
Containing the Criticism of the Kantian Philosophy, and the Supplements to
the First and Part of the Second Book of Vol. I.
"Paucis natus est, qui populum aetatis suae cogitat."--SEN.
Sixth Edition
London
Kegan Paul, Trench, Truebner & Co.
1909
CONTENTS
Appendix: Criticism of the Kantian Philosophy.
Supplements to the First Book.
First Half. The Doctrine Of The Idea Of Perception. (To § 1-7 of the
First Volume.)
Chapter I. The Standpoint of Idealism.
Chapter II. The Doctrine of Perception or Knowledge Of The
Understanding.
Chapter III. On The Senses.
Chapter IV. On Knowledge _A Priori_.
Second Half. The Doctrine of the Abstract Idea, or Thinking.
Chapter V. On The Irrational Intellect.
Chapter VI. On The Doctrine of Abstract or Rational Knowledge.
Chapter VII. On The Relation of the Concrete Knowledge of Perception
to Abstract Knowledge.
Chapter VIII. On The Theory Of The Ludicrous.
Chapter IX. On Logic In General.
Chapter X. On The Syllogism.
Chapter XI. On Rhetoric.
Chapter XII. On The Doctrine Of Science.
Chapter XIII. On The Methods Of Mathematics.
Chapter XIV. On The Association Of Ideas.
Chapter XV. On The Essential Imperfections Of The Intellect.
Chapter XVI. On The Practical Use Of Reason And On Stoicism.
Chapter XVII. On Man's Need Of Metaphysics.
Supplements to the Second Book.
Chapter XVIII. On The Possibility Of Knowing The Thing In Itself.
Chapter XIX. On The Primacy Of The Will In Self-Consciousness.
Chapter XX. Objectification Of The Will In The Animal Organism.
Note On What Has Been Said About Bichat.
Footnotes
APPENDIX: CRITICISM OF THE KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY.
C'est le privilege du vrai genie, et surtout du genie qui ouvre
une carriere,
de faire impunement de grandes fautes.--_Voltaire._
It is much easier to point out the faults and errors in the work of a
great mind than to give a distinct and full exposition of its value. For
the faults are particular and finite, and can therefore be fully
comprehended; while, on the contrary, the very stamp which genius
impresses upon its works is that their excellence is unfathomable and
inexhaustible. Therefore they do not grow old, but become the instructor
of many succeeding centuries. The perfected masterpiece of a truly great
mind will always produce a deep and powerful effect upon the whole human
race, so much so that it is impossible to calculate to what distant
centuries and lands its enlightening influence may extend. This is always
the case; for however cultivated and rich the age may be in which such a
masterpiece appears, genius always rises like a palm-tree above the soil
in which it is rooted.
But a deep-reaching and widespread effect of this kind cannot take place
suddenly, because of the great difference between | 3,143.345609 |
2023-11-16 19:09:27.4258110 | 274 | 22 |
Produced by Jane Robins and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
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PRICE, TEN CENTS.
[Illustration:
CORTICELLI
HOME NEEDLEWORK
1898
NONOTUCK SILK Co.
FLORENCE,
MASS.
]
PRESS OF SPRINGFIELD PRINTING AND BINDING COMPANY, SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
CORTICELLI
... SPOOL SILK
and BUTTONHOLE TWIST.
[Illustration]
MADE EXPRESSLY FOR DRESSMAKING AND FAMILY SEWING.
It works EQUALLY WELL for hand or machine use.
[Illustration]
Corticelli is the Smoothest,
Strongest, and Best
Sewing Silk made.
Both Spool Silk and Buttonhole Twist are made in colors to match all
seasonable dress goods found in the market.
[Illustration]
For Sixty Years
CORTICELLI SILK
has been the favorite with the leading dressmakers of this country.
THEY RECOMMEND AND USE IT.
NONOTUCK SILK COMPANY,
Bridge Street, Florence, Mass.
[Illustration: CORT | 3,143.445851 |
2023-11-16 19:09:27.4280160 | 1,664 | 9 |
Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
To THE WISE MAN ALL THE WORLD'S A SOIL--BEN JONSON
[Illustration: Title page]
A VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD
_in the years 1740-4 by_
LORD ANSON
LONDON: PUBLISHED by J. M. DENT & SONS Ltd.
AND IN NEW YORK BY E. P. DUTTON & CO
{vii}
INTRODUCTION
The men-of-war in which Anson went to sea were built mostly of oak.
They were painted externally yellow, with a blue stripe round the upper
works. Internally, they were painted red. They carried cannon on one,
two, or three decks according to their size. The biggest ships carried
a hundred cannon and nearly a thousand men. The ship in which this
famous voyage was made was of the middle size, then called the
fourth-rate. She carried sixty cannon, and a crew of four hundred men.
Her lower gun deck, a little above the level of the water, was about
140 feet long. She was of about a thousand tons burthen.
Though this seems small to us, it is not small for a wooden ship. It
is not possible to build a long wooden ship. The _Centurion_, though
short, was broad, bulky, and deep. She was fit for the sea. As she
was built more to carry cannon than to sail, she was a slow sailer.
She became slower as the barnacles gathered on her planks under the
water. She carried three wooden masts, each fitted with two or three
square sails, extended by wooden yards. Both yards and masts were
frequently injured in bad weather.
The cannon were arranged in rows along her decks. On the lower gun
deck, a little above the level of the water, she carried twenty-six
twenty-four-pounders, thirteen on a side. These guns were
muzzle-loading cannon which flung twenty-four-pound balls for a
distance of about a mile. On the deck above this chief battery, she
carried a lighter battery of twenty-six nine- or twelve-pounder guns,
thirteen on a side. These guns were also muzzle-loading. They flung
their balls for a distance of a little more than a mile.
On the quarter-deck, the poop, the forecastle, and aloft in the tops
(the strong platforms on the masts), were lighter guns, throwing balls
of from a half to six pounds' weight. {viii} Some of the lightest guns
were mounted on swivels, so that they could be easily pointed in any
direction. All the guns were clumsy weapons. They could not be aimed
with any nicety. The iron round shot fired from them did not fit the
bores of the pieces. The gun-carriages were clumsy, and difficult to
move. Even when the carriage had been so moved that the gun was
accurately trained, and when the gun itself had been raised or
depressed till it was accurately pointed, the gunner could not tell how
much the ball would wobble in the bore before it left the muzzle. For
these reasons all the effective sea-fights were fought at close range,
from within a quarter of a mile of the target to close alongside. At a
close range, the muskets and small-arms could be used with effect.
The broadside cannon pointed through square portholes cut in the ship's
sides. The ports were fitted with heavy wooden lids which could be
tightly closed when necessary. In bad weather, the lower-deck gun
ports could not be opened without danger of swamping the ship.
Sometimes, when the lower-deck guns were fought in a gale, the men
stood knee deep in water.
In action the guns were "run out" till their muzzles were well outside
the port, so that the flashes might not set the ship's side on fire.
The shock of the discharge made them recoil into a position in which
they could be reloaded. The guns were run out by means of side
tackles. They were kept from recoiling too far by strong ropes called
breechings. When not in use, and not likely to be used, they were
"housed," or so arranged that their muzzles could be lashed firmly to
the ship's side. In a sea way, when the ship rolled very badly, there
was danger of the guns breaking loose and rolling this way and that
till they had knocked the ship's side out. To prevent this happening,
clamps of wood were screwed behind the wheels of the gun-carriages, and
extra breechings were rove, whenever bad weather threatened.
The great weight of the rows of cannon put a severe strain upon the
upper works of the ship. In bad weather, during excessive rolling,
this strain was often great enough to open the seams in the ship's
sides. To prevent this, and other costly damage, it was the custom to
keep the big men-of-war in harbour from October until the Spring. In
the {ix} smaller vessels the strain was made less by striking down some
of the guns into the hold.
The guns were fired by the application of a slow-match to the priming
powder in the touch-holes. The slow-matches were twisted round wooden
forks called linstocks. After firing, when the guns had recoiled,
their bores were scraped with scrapers called "worms" to remove scraps
of burning wad or cartridge. They were then sponged out with a wet
sponge, and charged by the ramming home of fresh cartridges, wads, and
balls. A gun's crew numbered from four to twelve men, according to the
size of the piece. When a gun was trained aft or forward, to bear on
an object before or abaft the beam, the gun's crew hove it about with
crows and handspikes.
As this, and the other exercise of sponging, loading, and running out
the guns in the heat, stench, and fury of a sea-fight was excessively
hard labour, the men went into action stripped to the waist. The decks
on those occasions were thickly sanded, lest the blood upon them should
make them too slippery for the survivors' feet. Tubs of water were
placed between the guns for the wetting of the sponges and the
extinguishing of chance fires. The ship's boys carried the cartridges
to the guns from the magazines below the water-line. The round-shot
were placed close to hand in rope rings called garlands. Nets were
spread under the masts to catch wreck from aloft. The decks were
"cleared for action." All loose articles about the decks, and all
movable wooden articles such as bulkheads (the partitions between
cabins), mess-tables, chests, casks, etc., were flung into the hold or
overboard, lest shot striking them should splinter them. Splinters
were far more dangerous than shot. In this book it may be noticed that
the officers hoped to have no fighting while the gun decks of the ships
in the squadron were cumbered with provision casks.
The ships of war carried enormous crews. The _Centurion_ carried four
hundred seamen and one hundred soldiers. At sea, most of this
complement was divided into two watches. Both watches were subdivided
into several divisions, to each of which was allotted some special
d | 3,143.448056 |
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A righte Merrie Christmasse!!!
The Story of Christ-tide
By John Ashton. Copperplate
Etching of "The
Wassail Song," by Arthur
C. Behrend.
London: published by the Leadenhall
Press, Ltd., 50 Leadenhall Street;
Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent
& Co., Ltd. New York: Charles
Scribner's Sons, 153-157 Fifth Avenue.
The Leadenhall Press Ltd.
London
[1894]
[Transcriber's Notes:
This text contains passages using the Anglo-Saxon thorn (Þ or þ,
equivalent of "th"), which should display properly in most text
viewers. The Anglo-Saxon yogh (equivalent of "y," "i," "g," or "gh")
will display properly only if the user has the proper font, so to
maximize accessibility, the character "3" is used in this e-text to
represent the yogh.
Characters with a macron are preceded by an equal sign and enclosed in
square brackets, e.g., [=a].
Superscripted characters are preceded by a carat and enclosed in curly
brackets, e.g., y^{t}.]
[Illustration: The Wassail Song]
TO THE READER
I do not craue
mo thankes to haue,
than geuen to me
all ready be;
but this is all,
to such as shall
peruse this booke.
That, for my sake,
they gently take
what ere they finde
against their minde,
when he, or she,
shal minded be
therein to looke.
_Tusser._
A righte Merrie Christmasse!!!
PREFACE
It is with a view of preserving the memory of Christmas that I have
written this book.
In it the reader will find its History, Legends, Folk-lore, Customs,
and Carols--in fact, an epitome of Old Christ-tide, forming a volume
which, it is hoped, will be found full of interest.
JOHN ASHTON.
A righte Merrie Christmasse!!!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Date of Christ's Birth discussed--Opinions of the Fathers--The
Eastern Church and Christ-tide--Error in Chronology--Roman
Saturnalia--Scandinavian Yule--Duration of Christ-tide 1
CHAPTER II
Historic Christ-tides in 790, 878, and 1065--William I.,
1066-1085--William II.--Henry I., 1127--Stephen--Henry II.,
1158-1171--Richard I., 1190--John, 1200--Henry III., 1253--Edwards I.,
II., and III.--Richard II., 1377-1398--Henry IV.-V., 1418--Henry
VIII., his magnificent Christ-tides 9
CHAPTER III
Historic Christ-tides--Edward VI., 1551--Mary--Elizabeth--James
I.--The Puritans--The Pilgrim Fathers--Christmas's Lamentation--Christ-tide
in the Navy, 1625 19
CHAPTER IV
Attempts of Puritans to put down Christ-tide--Attitude of the
people--Preaching before Parliament--"The arraignment, etc., of
Christmas" 26
CHAPTER V
The popular love of Christmas--Riots at Ealing and
Canterbury--Evelyn's Christmas days, 1652, '3, '4, '5, '7, Cromwell
and Christ-tide--The Restoration--Pepys and Christmas day, 1662--"The
Examination and Tryal of old Father Christmas" 34
CHAPTER VI
Commencement of Christ-tide--"O Sapientia!"--St. Thomas's day--William
the Conqueror and the City of York--Providing for Christmas
fare--Charities of food--Bull-baiting--Christ-tide charities--Going
"a-Thomassing," etc.--Superstitions of the day 45
CHAPTER VII
Paddington Charity (Bread and Cheese Lands)--Barring-out at
Schools--Interesting narrative 53
CHAPTER VIII
The Bellman--Descriptions of him--His verses. The Waits--Their
origin--Ned Ward on them--Corporation Waits--York Waits (17th
century)--Essay on Waits--Westminster Waits--Modern Waits 63
CHAPTER IX
Christ-tide Carols--The days of Yule--A Carol for
Christ-tide--"Lullaby"--The Cherry-tree Carol--Dives and Lazarus 70
CHAPTER X
Christmas Eve--Herrick thereon--The Yule Log--Folk-lore thereon--The
Ashen <DW19>--Christmas Candles--Christmas Eve in the Isle of
Man--Hunting the Wren--Divination by Onions and Sage--A Custom at
Aston--"The Mock"--Decorations and Kissing Bunch--"Black
Ball"--Guisers and Waits--Ale Posset 75
CHAPTER XI
Christmas Eve in North Notts--Wassailing the Fruit Trees--Wassail
Songs--Wassailing in Sussex--Other Customs--King at Downside
College--Christ-tide Carol--Midnight Mass--The Manger--St. Francis of
Assisi 84
CHAPTER XII
Decorating with Evergreens--Its Origin and Antiquity--Mistletoe in
Churches--The permissible Evergreens--The Holly--"Holly and
Ivy"--"Here comes Holly"--"Ivy, chief of Trees"--"The Contest of the
Ivy and the Holly"--Holly Folk-lore--Church Decorations--To be kept up
till Candlemas day 91
CHAPTER XIII
Legends of the Nativity--The Angels--The Birth--The Cradles--The Ox
and Ass--Legends of Animals--The Carol of St. Stephen--Christmas
Wolves--Dancing for a Twelve-months--Underground Bells--The Fiddler
and the Devil 97
CHAPTER XIV
The Glastonbury Thorn, its Legend--Cuttings from it--Oaks coming into
leaf on Christmas day--Folk-lore--Forecast, according to the days of
the week on which Christmas falls--Other Folk-lore thereon 105
CHAPTER XV
Withholding Light--"Wesley Bob"--Wassail Carol--Presents in
Church--Morris Dancers--"First Foot"--Red-haired Men--Lamprey
Pie--"Hodening"--Its Possible Origin--The "Mari Lhoyd" 111
CHAPTER XVI
Curious Gambling Customs in Church--Boon granted--Sheaf of Corn for
the Birds--Crowning of the Cock--"The Lord Mayor of Pennyless
Cove"--"Letting in Yule"--Guisards--Christmas in the Highlands--Christmas
in Shetland--Christmas in Ireland 117
CHAPTER XVII
Ordinance against out-door Revelry--Marriage of a Lord of
Misrule--Mummers and Mumming--Country Mummers--Early Play--Two modern
Plays 125
CHAPTER XVIII
A Christmas jest--Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas--Milton's Masque of
Comus--Queen Elizabeth and the Masters of Defence 138
CHAPTER XIX
The Lord of Misrule--The "Emperor" and "King" at Oxford--Dignity of
the Office--Its abolition in the City of London--The functions of a
Lord of Misrule--Christmas at the Temple--A grand Christmas there 143
CHAPTER XX
A riotous Lord of Misrule at the Temple--Stubbes on Lords of
Misrule--The Bishops ditto--Mumming at Norwich 1440--Dancing at the
Inns of Court--Dancing at Christmas--The Cushion Dance 155
CHAPTER XXI
Honey Fairs--Card-playing at Christmas--Throwing the Hood--Early
Religious Plays--Moralities--Story of a Gray's Inn Play--The first
Pantomime--Spectacular drama--George Barnwell--Story respecting this
Play 162
CHAPTER XXII
Profusion of Food at Christ-tide--Old English
Fare--Hospitality--Proclamations for People to spend Christ-tide at
their Country Places--Roast Beef--Boar's Head--Boar's Head
Carol--Custom at Queen's College, Oxon.--Brawn--Christmas Pie--Goose
Pie--Plum Pudding--Plum Porridge--Anecdotes of Plum Pudding--Large
one--Mince Pies--Hackin--Folk-lore--Gifts at Christ-tide--Yule
Doughs--Cop-a-loaf--Snap-dragon 169
CHAPTER XXIII
The First Carol--Anglo-Norman Carol--Fifteenth-Century Carol--"The
Twelve Good Joys of Mary"--Other Carols--"A Virgin most Pure"--Carol
of Fifteenth Century--"A Christenmesse Carroll" 180
CHAPTER XXIV
Christmas Gifts forbidden in the City of London--Charles II. and
Christmas Gifts--Christmas Tree--Asiatic Descent--Scandinavian
Descent--Candles on the Tree--Early Notices of in England--Santa
Claus--Krishkinkle--Curious Tenures of Land at Christmas 186
CHAPTER XXV
Christ-tide Literature--Christmas Cards--Their Origin--Lamplighter's
Verses--Watchman's Verses--Christmas Pieces 194
CHAPTER XXVI
Carol for St. Stephen's Day--Boxing Day--Origin of Custom--Early
examples--The Box--Bleeding Horses--Festivity on this Day--Charity at
Bampton--Hunting the Wren in Ireland--Song of the Wren Boys 201
CHAPTER XXVII
St. John's Day--Legend of the Saint--Carols for the Day--Holy
Innocents--Whipping Children--Boy Bishops--Ceremonies connected
therewith--The King of Cockney's Unlucky Day--Anecdote thereon--Carol
for the Day 207
CHAPTER XXVIII
New Year's Eve--Wassail--New Year's Eve Customs--Hogmany--The
Cl[=a]vie--Other Customs--Weather Prophecy 214
CHAPTER XXIX
New Year's Day--Carol--New Year's Gifts--"Dipping"--Riding the
"Stang"--Curious Tenures--God Cakes--The "Quaaltagh"--"First foot" in
Scotland--Highland Customs--In Ireland--Weather Prophecies--Handsel
Monday 220
CHAPTER XXX
Eve of Twelfth Day--Thirteen Fires--Tossing the Cake--Wassailing
Apple-Trees--The Eve in Ireland--Twelfth Day, or Epiphany--Carol for
the Day--Royal Offerings 232
CHAPTER XXXI
"The King of the Bean"--Customs on Twelfth Day--Twelfth Cakes--Twelfth
Night Characters--Modern Twelfth Night--The Pastry Cook's
Shops--Dethier's Lottery--The Song of the Wren--"Holly Night" at
Brough--"Cutting off the Fiddler's Head" 238
CHAPTER XXXII
St. Distaff's Day--Plough Monday--Customs on the Day--Feast of the
Purification 246
CHAPTER I
Date of Christ's Birth discussed--Opinions of the
Fathers--The Eastern Church and Christ-tide--Error in
Chronology--Roman Saturnalia--Scandinavian Yule--Duration of
Christ-tide.
The day on which Jesus Christ died is plainly distinguishable, but the
day of His birth is open to very much question, and, literally, is
only conjectural; so that the 25th December must be taken purely as
the day on which His birth is celebrated, and not as His absolute
natal day. In this matter we can only follow the traditions of the
Church, and tradition alone has little value.
In the second and early third centuries of our aera, we only know that
the festivals, other than Sundays and days set apart for the
remembrance of particular martyrs, were the Passover, Pentecost, and
the Epiphany, the baptism or manifestation of our Lord, when came "a
voice from Heaven saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well
pleased." This seems always to have been fixed for the 6th of January,
and with it was incorporated the commemoration of His birth.
Titus Flavius Clemens, generally known as Clemens of Alexandria, lived
exactly at this time, and was a contemporary of Origen. He speaks
plainly on the subject, and shows the uncertainty, even at that early
epoch of Christianity, of fixing the date:[1] "There are those who,
with an over-busy curiosity, attempt to fix not only the year, but the
date of our Saviour's birth, who, they say, was born in the
twenty-eighth year of Augustus, on the 25th of the month Pachon,"
_i.e._ the 20th of May. And in another place he says: "Some say that
He was born on the 24th or 25th of the month Pharmuthi," which would
be the 19th or 20th of April.
[Footnote 1: _Stromat._, L. 1, pp. 407-408, ed. Oxon., 1715.]
But, perhaps, the best source of information is from the _Memoires
pour servir a l'histoire ecclesiastique des six premiers Siecles_, by
Louis Sebastian le Nain de Tillemont, written at the very commencement
of the eighteenth century,[2] and I have no hesitation in appending a
portion of his fourth note, which treats "_Upon the day and year of
the birth of Jesus Christ_."
[Footnote 2: Translated by T. Deacon in 1733-35, pp. 335-336.]
"It is thought that Jesus Christ was born in the night, because it was
night when the angel declared His birth to the shepherds: in which S.
Augustin says that He literally fulfilled David's words, _Ante
luciferum genuite_.
"The tradition of the Church, says this father, is that it was upon
the 25th of December. Casaubon acknowledges that we should not
immediately reject it upon the pretence that it is too cold a season
for cattle to be at pasture, there being a great deal of difference
between these countries and Judaea; and he assures us that, even in
England, they leave the cows in the field all the year round.
"S. Chrysostom alleges several reasons to prove that Jesus Christ was
really born upon the 25th of December; but they are weak enough,
except that which he assures of, that it has always been the belief of
the Western Churches. S. Epiphanius, who will have the day to have
been the 6th of January, places it but at twelve days' distance. S.
Clement of Alexandria says that, in his time, some fixed the birth of
Jesus Christ upon the 19th or 20th April; others, on the 20th of May.
He speaks of it as not seeing anything certain in it.
"It is cited from one John of Nice, that it was only under Pope Julius
that the Festival of the Nativity was fixed at Rome upon the 25th of
December. Father Combesisius, who has published the epistle of this
author, confesses that he is very modern: to which we may add that he
is full of idle stories, and entirely ignorant of the history and
discipline of antiquity. So that it is better to rest upon the
testimony of S. Chrysostom, who asserts that, for a long time before,
and by very ancient tradition, it was celebrated upon the 25th of
December in the West, that is, in all the countries which reach from
Thrace to Cadiz, and to the farthest parts of Spain. He names Rome
particularly; and thinks that it might be found there that this was
the true day of our Saviour's birth, by consulting the registers of
the description of Judaea made at that time, supposing them still to be
preserved there. We find this festival placed upon the 25th of
December in the ancient Roman Calendar, which was probably made in the
year 354....
"We find by S. Basil's homily upon the birth of our Lord that a
festival in commemoration of it was observed in Cappadocia, provided
that this homily is all his; but I am not of opinion that it appears
from thence either that this was done in January rather than December
or any other month in the year, or that this festival was joined with
that of the Baptism. On the contrary, the Churches of Cappadocia seem
to have distinguished the Feast of the Nativity from that of the
Epiphany, for S. Gregory Nazianzen says, that after he had been
ordained priest, in the year 361, upon the festival of one mystery, he
retired immediately after into Pontus, on that of another mystery, and
returned from Pontus upon that of a third. Now we find that he
returned at Easter, so that there is all imaginable reason to believe
that he was ordained at Christmas, and retired upon the Epiphany. S.
Basil died, in all probability, upon the 1st of January in the year
379, and S. Gregory Nyssen says that his festival followed close upon
those of Christmas, S. Stephen, S. Peter, S. James, and S. John. We
read in an oration ascribed to S. Amphilochius, that he died on the
day of the Circumcision, between the Nativity of Jesus Christ and His
Baptism. S. Gregory Nyssen says that the Feast of Lights, and of the
Baptism of Jesus Christ, was celebrated some days after that of His
Nativity. The other S. Gregory takes notice of several mysteries which
were commemorated at Nazianzium with the Nativity, the Magi, etc., but
he says nothing, in that place, of the Baptism. And yet, if the
festival of Christmas was observed in Cappadocia upon the 25th of
December, we must say that S. Chrysostom was ignorant of it, since he
ascribes this practice only to Thrace and the more Western
provinces....
"In the year 377, or soon after, some persons who came from Rome,
introduced into Syria the practice of celebrating our Lord's Nativity
in the month of December, upon the same day as was done in the West;
and this festival was so well received in that country that in less
than ten years it was entirely established at Antioch, and was
observed there by all the people with great solemnity, though some
complained of it as an innovation. S. Chrysostom, who informs us of
all this, speaks of it in such a manner as to make Father Thomassin
say, not that the birth of Jesus Christ had till then been kept upon a
wrong day, but that absolutely it had | 3,143.646351 |
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Produced by David Widger
MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, 1566-1574, Complete
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC
By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY
1855
VOLUME 2, Book 1., 1566
1566 [CHAPTER VIII.]
Secret policy of the government--Berghen and Montigny in Spain--
Debates at Segovia--Correspondence of the Duchess with Philip--
Procrastination and dissimulation of the King--Secret communication
to the Pope--Effect in the provinces of the King's letters to the
government--Secret instructions to the Duchess--Desponding
statements of Margaret--Her misrepresentations concerning Orange,
Egmont, and others--Wrath and duplicity of Philip--Egmont's
exertions in Flanders--Orange returns to Antwerp--His tolerant
spirit--Agreement of 2d September--Horn at Tournay--Excavations in
the Cathedral--Almost universal attendance at the preaching--
Building of temples commenced--Difficult position of Horn--Preaching
in the Clothiers' Hall--Horn recalled--Noircarmes at Tournay--
Friendly correspondence of Margaret with Orange, Egmont, Horn, and
Hoogstraaten--Her secret defamation of these persons.
Egmont in Flanders, Orange at Antwerp, Horn at Tournay; Hoogstraaten at
Mechlin, were exerting themselves to suppress insurrection and to avert
ruin. What, meanwhile, was the policy of the government? The secret
course pursued both at Brussels and at Madrid may be condensed into the
usual formula--dissimulation, procrastination, and again dissimulation.
It is at this point necessary to take a rapid survey of the open and the
secret proceedings of the King and his representatives from the moment at
which Berghen and Montigny arrived in Madrid. Those ill-fated gentlemen
had been received with apparent cordiality, and admitted to frequent, but
unmeaning, interviews with his Majesty. The current upon which they were
embarked was deep and treacherous, but it was smooth and very slow. They
assured the King that his letters, ordering the rigorous execution of the
inquisition and edicts, had engendered all the evils under which the
provinces were laboring. They told him that Spaniards and tools of
Spaniards had attempted to govern the country, to the exclusion of native
citizens and nobles, but that it would soon be found that Netherlanders
were not to be trodden upon like the abject inhabitants of Milan, Naples,
and Sicily. Such words as these struck with an unaccustomed sound upon
the royal ear, but the envoys, who were both Catholic and loyal, had no
idea, in thus expressing their opinions, according to their sense of
duty, and in obedience to the King's desire, upon the causes of the
discontent, that they were committing an act of high treason.
When the news of the public preaching reached Spain, there were almost
daily consultations at the grove of Segovia. The eminent personages who
composed the royal council were the Duke of Alva, the Count de Feria, Don
Antonio de Toledo, Don Juan Manrique de Lara, Ruy Gomez, Quixada,
Councillor Tisnacq, recently appointed President of the State Council,
and Councillor Hopper. Six Spaniards and two Netherlanders, one of whom,
too, a man of dull intellect and thoroughly subservient character, to
deal with the local affairs of the Netherlands in a time of intense
excitement! The instructions of the envoys had been to represent the
necessity of according three great points--abolition of the inquisition,
moderation of the edicts, according to the draft prepared in Brussels,
and an ample pardon for past transactions. There was much debate upon all
these propositions. Philip said little, but he listened attentively to
the long discourses in council, and he took an incredible quantity of
notes. It was the general opinion that this last demand on the part of
the Netherlanders was the fourth link in the chain of treason. The first
had been the cabal by which Granvelle had been expelled; the second, the
mission of Egmont, the main object of which had been to procure a
modification of the state council, in order to bring that body under the
control of a few haughty and rebellious nobles; the third had been the
presentation of the insolent and seditious Request; and now, to crown the
whole, came a proposition embodying the three points--abolition of the
inquisition, revocation of the edicts, and a pardon to criminals, for
whom death was the only sufficient punishment.
With regard to these three points, it was, after much wrangling, decided
to grant them under certain restrictions. To abolish the inquisition
would be to remove the only instrument by which the Church had been
accustomed to regulate the consciences and the doctrines of its subjects.
It would be equivalent to a concession of religious freedom, at least to
individuals within their own domiciles, than which no concession could be
more pernicious. Nevertheless, it might be advisable to permit the
temporary cessation of the papal inquisition, now that the episcopal
inquisition had been so much enlarged and strengthened in the
Netherlands, on the condition that this branch of the institution should
be maintained in energetic condition. With regard to the Moderation, it
was thought better to defer that matter till, the proposed visit of his
Majesty to the provinces. If, however, the Regent should think it
absolutely necessary to make a change, she must cause a new draft to be
made, as that which had been sent was not found admissible. Touching the
pardon general, it would be necessary to make many conditions and
restrictions before it could be granted. Provided these were sufficiently
minute to exclude all persons whom it might be found desirable to
chastise, the amnesty was possible. Otherwise it was quite out of the
question.
Meantime, Margaret of Parma had been urging her brother to come to a
decision, painting the distracted condition of the country in the
liveliest colors, and insisting, although perfectly aware of Philip's
private sentiments, upon a favorable decision as to the three points
demanded by the envoys. Especially she urged her incapacity to resist any
rebellion, and demanded succor of men and money in case the "Moderation"
were not accepted by his Majesty.
It was the last day of July before the King wrote at all, to communicate
his decisions upon the crisis which had occurred in the first week of
April. The disorder for which he had finally prepared a prescription had,
before his letter arrived, already passed through its subsequent stages
of the field-preaching and the image-breaking. Of course these fresh
symptoms would require much consultation, pondering, and note-taking
before they could be dealt with. In the mean time they would be
considered as not yet having happened. This was the masterly
procrastination of the sovereign, when his provinces were in a blaze.
His masterly dissimulation was employed in the direction suggested by his
councillors. Philip never originated a thought, nor laid down a plan, but
he was ever true to the falsehood of his nature, and was indefatigable in
following out the suggestions of others. No greater mistake can be made
than to ascribe talent to this plodding and pedantic monarch. The man's
intellect was contemptible, but malignity and duplicity, almost
superhuman; have effectually lifted his character out of the regions of
the common-place. He wrote accordingly to say that the pardon, under
certain conditions, might be granted, and that the papal inquisition
might cease--the bishops now being present in such numbers, "to take care
of their flocks," and the episcopal inquisition being, therefore
established upon so secure a basis. He added, that if a moderation of the
edicts were still desired, a new project might be sent to Madrid, as the
one brought by Berghen and Montigny was not satisfactory. In arranging
this wonderful scheme for composing the tumults of the country, which had
grown out of a determined rebellion to the inquisition in any form, he
followed not only the advice, but adopted the exact language of his
councillors.
Certainly, here was not much encouragement for patriotic hearts in the
Netherlands. A pardon, so restricted that none were likely to be forgiven
save those who had done no wrong; an episcopal inquisition stimulated to
renewed exertions, on the ground that the papal functionaries were to be
discharged; and a promise that, although the proposed Moderation of the
edicts seemed too mild for the monarch's acceptance, yet at some future
period another project would be matured for settling the matter to
universal satisfaction--such were the propositions of the Crown.
Nevertheless, Philip thought he had gone too far, even in administering
this meagre amount of mercy, and that he had been too frank in employing
so slender a deception, as in the scheme thus sketched. He therefore
summoned a notary, before whom, in presence of the Duke of Alva, the
Licentiate Menchaca and Dr. Velasco, he declared that, although he had
just authorized Margaret of Parma, by force of circumstances, to grant
pardon to all those who had been compromised in the late disturbances of
the Netherlands, yet as he had not done this spontaneously nor freely, he
did not consider himself bound by the authorization, but that, on the
contrary, he reserved his right to punish all the guilty, and
particularly those who had been the authors and encouragers of the
sedition.
So much for the pardon promised in his official correspondence.
With regard to the concessions, which he supposed himself to have made in
the matter of the inquisition and the edicts, he saved his conscience by
another process. Revoking with his right hand all which his left had been
doing, he had no sooner despatched his letters to the Duchess Regent than
he sent off another to his envoy at Rome. In this despatch he instructed
Requesens to inform the Pope as to the recent royal decisions upon the
three points, and to state that there had not been time to consult his
Holiness beforehand. Nevertheless, continued Philip "the prudent," it was
perhaps better thus, since the abolition could have no force, unless the
Pope, by whom the institution had been established, consented to its
suspension. This matter, however, was to be kept a profound secret. So
much for the inquisition matter. The papal institution, notwithstanding
the official letters, was to exist, unless the Pope chose to destroy it;
and his Holiness, as we have seen, had sent the Archbishop of Sorrento, a
few weeks before, to Brussels, for the purpose of concerting secret
measures for strengthening the "Holy Office" in the provinces.
With regard to the proposed moderation of the edicts, Philip informed
Pius | 3,143.947285 |
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Produced by Louise Davies, Jerry, Julia Neufeld and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
SOME
JEWISH WITNESSES
FOR
CHRIST.
BY
Rev. A. BERNSTEIN, B.D.
_Price One Shilling and Sixpence._
PRINTED AT THE
OPERATIVE JEWISH CONVERTS' INSTITUTION,
PALESTINE HOUSE, BODNEY ROAD, LONDON, N.E.
1909.
PREFACE.
This book has grown very considerably in the making, and what was
expected to form a comparatively small pamphlet has become quite a
substantial volume. It is probable that if still more time could have
been spent upon it, its size would have been greatly increased, for the
fact of the matter is that there have been and are many more Jewish
witnesses for Christ than can readily be enumerated. But the author has
all along been very desirous that his work should appear in the
Centenary Year of the London Society for Promoting Christianity amongst
the Jews, the same year which has seen the production of the History of
that Society written by its gifted and deeply lamented Secretary, the
late Rev. W. T. Gidney. The two books are companion works of reference,
and in relation to Jewish missions they are both of inestimable value.
In some degree the one supplements the other, because the biographies
indicate many of the results of the various missionary enterprises
recorded in the History.
That Hebrew Christians should publish the arguments which have convinced
them that Jesus is the Messiah, not merely for their own vindication,
but rather to lead others to the same conviction, is not at all
surprising. It is, however, peculiarly noteworthy that their literary
efforts have not been limited to those of an apologetic nature, but
that, on the contrary, they have made valuable contributions to almost
all the departments of human knowledge. The learned author has rendered
this one of the most pleasing features of his work, and it has evidently
afforded him no little gratification to exhibit clearly the vast
erudition of his numerous brethren.
The Rev. F. L. Denman, the other Secretary of the Society, has read the
proofs, and has done all in his power to secure accuracy, yet as many
authorities have been consulted, and all are not of equal reliability,
it is probable that some errors have been overlooked, and those to which
readers kindly draw attention will be corrected in any future edition.
H. O. ALLBROOK,
_Principal of the Operative Jewish
Converts' Institution._
JEWISH WITNESSES FOR CHRIST.
INTRODUCTION.
THE history of the Mission to the Jews is coeval with the history of the
Christian Church. The names of Christ's disciples mentioned in the
Gospels are nearly all those of Jews, and in the Epistles a great many
of them are of Jewish converts. But the general reader of the New
Testament does not realize the fact, because it was the fashion among
the Jews at that time to assume Greek names. For instance, several of
St. Paul's relatives bearing Greek names became Christians, but we
should not know that they were Jews if the Apostle had not written,
"Andronicus and Junia, my kinsmen." Again, "Lucius, and Jason, and
Sosipater, my kinsmen" (Rom. xvi. 7 and 21). Whilst where we have not
this information with regard to other such names, we take it for granted
that they were Gentiles. For instance, Zenas, mentioned in Titus iii.
13, is naturally taken by the general reader for a Greek, yet scholars
maintain that he had formerly been a Jewish scribe or lawyer.
The aim of this work is to shew that God had at all times in the history
of the Christian Church a considerable number of believing Israelites
who, after their conversion to Christianity, rendered good service to
their fellowmen and to the Church of Christ at large. Out of this
company of "the remnant according to the election of grace," only a very
few comparatively have their names recorded in history. The names of the
great majority are written in the Book of Life alone. But as in the
prophet Ezekiel--Noah, Job and Daniel--and as in the Epistle to the
Hebrews--the short list of the Old Testament saints--are the
representatives of a large number, so may the converts mentioned in this
book be considered as representatives of a vast number of their brethren
who had the courage and the grace given them to take up the cross and
follow Jesus.
Yet, of course, to give a mere nomenclature, or catalogue, of persons
would not signify much unless it were followed by a description of the
life and work of the persons concerned. The material thereto is
abundant--there is a vast literature upon the subject--as will be
presently seen, with the exception of that which refers to Jewish
converts of the Eastern Church. The sublime maxim, "One soweth and
another reapeth," is peculiarly applicable to a biographical writer. He
cannot and must not be original, but has to state the facts in the life
of the person whom he attempts to delineate, just as he finds them
recorded in books, or letters, or as he knows them from personal
observation. But it is obvious that the latter can only be the case when
the subject of a biographer's writing is a contemporary and known to
himself.
The following are the sources from which the writer has immediately
drawn his information:--
(1.) "The Jewish Encyclopaedia." Every contributor to this remarkable
work of 12 volumes is well-known in the literary and religious world as
a reliable authority upon the subject of his article.
(2.) "Juden Mission, a history of Protestant Missions among the Jews
since the Reformation," by Pastor de le Roi, well-known and esteemed in
the churches on the Continent and beyond its borders.
(3.) "Christen und Juden," by the late Rev. A. Fuerst, D.D., formerly a
Missionary and Pastor at Amsterdam, and well acquainted with Spanish
literature.
(4.) "Jewish Witnesses that Jesus is the Christ," by the Rev. Ridley
Herschell (father of Lord Chancellor Herschell), who gives his
autobiography and the lives of several personal friends.
(5.) "The People, the Land and the Book," by B. A. M. Schahiro, of the
Bible House, New York.
(6.) "The Hebrew Christian Witness," by the Rev. Dr. Moses Margoliouth,
1874-5.
(7.) "Sites and Scenes," by the Rev. W. T. Gidney, M.A.
(8.) "The Talmud," whose testimony is very reliable when it speaks of
Jewish Christians.
Ultimate sources of information, and ulterior literature, to which
nearly all these writers refer, are as follows: "Wolf, Bibliotheca
Hebraica." "Graeetz, Geschichte der Juden." "Hetzel, Gesch. der
Hebraischen Sprache." "Fuerst, Bibl. Jud." "Steinschneiders
Bibliographisches Handbuch." "Catalogue Bodl." "Dict. Nat Biog."
"Meyer's Conversations Lexikon." "Da Costa's History of the Jews in
Spain." "Kalkar, Die Mission unter den Juden." "The Jewish Missionary
Intelligence." "The Jewish Missionary Herald." "Saat auf Hoffnung," by
Professor F. Delitzsch, of Leipzig. "Nathanael," by Professor Strack, of
Berlin. Other biographical dictionaries and histories.
CHAPTER I.
APOSTOLIC PERIOD.
The Apostolic Period began on the day of Pentecost when the disciples
who were gathered together were a hundred and twenty in number (Acts i.
15), but were only a section of the 500 brethren who had seen the Lord
after His resurrection (I. Cor. xv. 6). On the same day, as the result
of St. Peter's first missionary sermon, "there were added unto them
about three thousand souls" (Acts ii. 41). A short time afterwards "the
number of the disciples multiplied in Jerusalem greatly; and a great
company of the priests were obedient to the faith" (Acts vi. 7). This
progress continued to such a degree that St. James, after hearing the
interesting missionary report of St. Paul, "about the things which God
had wrought among the Gentiles by his ministry," said to him, "Thou
seest, brother, how many thousands of Jews there are which believe"
(Acts xxi. 20). How glad we should have been if we had some account of,
at least, the more prominent converts of that period, and knew something
of the sufferings that they had to endure for the sake of Christ.
Nevertheless, the Acts of the Apostles, though containing much in
relation to the progress of the Gospel among Jews and Gentiles, gives
but little information with regard to Jewish individual conversions, and
mentions only two Jewish Christian martyrs--namely, St. Stephen and
James the Elder--and is even silent about the exclusion of Jewish
converts from the Temple, which we gather only from the Epistle to the
Hebrews. This fact is to us an evidence that St. Luke, the first
ecclesiastical historian, had no design to shew to the world the
inherent power of the Gospel exemplified by the conversion of many of
the very people who had rejected Christ, and it proves the genuineness
and authenticity of the Acts of the Apostles and the date commonly
assigned, for had it been written later, as some critics maintain, the
author would surely have taken the trouble to give his readers some
detailed information concerning at least one per cent. of that vast
multitude of Jewish converts mentioned by St. James. Such is the method
of the ecclesiastical historian in modern as well as in ancient times,
as the following two examples will shew: Pastor de le Roi, Jewish
missionary historian, has for years not only collected statistics of
Jewish converts in various churches, and summed up the whole | 3,143.98597 |
2023-11-16 19:09:27.9659580 | 1,848 | 20 |
Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Juliet Sutherland, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: "And sing to the praise of the Doll"]
_CHILDREN'S CRIMSON SERIES_
PINAFORE PALACE
BY
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
AND
NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1907, by The McClure Company_
* * * * *
PREFACE
TO THE MOTHER
_"A Court as of angels,
A public not to be bribed,
Not to be entreated,
Not to be overawed."_
_Such is the audience--in long clothes or short frocks, in pinafores
or kilts, or in the brief trousers that bespeak the budding man--such
is the crowing, laughing court, the toddling public that awaits these
verses._
_Every home, large or small, poor or rich, that has a child in it, is
a Pinafore Palace, and we have borrowed the phrase from one of
childhood's most whimsical and devoted poets-laureate, thinking no
other words would so well express our meaning._
_If the two main divisions of the book--"The Royal Baby" and "Little
Prince and Princess"--should seem to you a trifle sentimental it will
be because you forget for the moment the gayety and humor of the
title with its delightful assumptions of regal dignity and state.
Granted the Palace itself, everything else falls easily into line, and
if you cannot readily concede the royal birth and bearing of your
neighbor's child you will see nothing strange in thinking of your own
nursling as little prince or princess, and so you will be able to
accept gracefully the sobriquet of Queen Mother, which is yours by the
same invincible logic!_
_Oh, yes, we allow that instead of being gravely editorial in our
attitude, we have played with the title, as well as with all the
sub-titles and classifications, feeling that it was the next
pleasantest thing to playing with the babies themselves. It was so
delightful to re-read the well-loved rhymes of our own childhood and
try to find others worthy to put beside them; so delicious to imagine
the hundreds of young mothers who would meet their old favorites in
these particular pages; and so inspiring to think of the thousands of
new babies whose first hearing of nursery classics would be associated
with this red-covered volume, that we found ourselves in a joyous mood
which we hope will be contagious. Nothing is surer than that a certain
gayety of heart and mind constitute the most wholesome climate for
young children. "The baby whose mother has not charmed him in his
cradle with rhyme and song has no enchanting dreams; he is not gay and
he will never be a great musician," so runs the old Swiss saying._
_Youthful mothers, beautifully and properly serious about their
strange new duties and responsibilities, need not fear that Mother
Goose is anything but healthful nonsense. She holds a place all her
own, and the years that have rolled over her head (some of the rhymes
going back to the sixteenth century) only give her a firmer footing
among the immortals. There are no real substitutes for her unique
rhymes, neither can they be added to nor imitated; for the world
nowadays is seemingly too sophisticated to frame just this sort of
merry, light-hearted, irresponsible verse which has mellowed with the
years. "These ancient rhymes," says Andrew Lang, "are smooth stones
from the brook of time, worn round by constant friction of tongues
long silent."_
_Nor is your use of this "light literature of the infant scholar" in
the nursery without purpose or value. You are developing ear, mind,
and heart, and laying a foundation for a later love of the best things
in poetry. Whatever else we may do or leave undone, if we wish to
widen the spiritual horizon of our children let us not close the
windows on the emotional and imaginative sides. "There is in every one
of us a poet whom the man has outlived." Do not let the poetic
instinct die of inanition; keep it alive in the child by feeding his
youthful ardor, strengthening his insight, guarding the sensitiveness
and delicacy of his early impressions, and cherishing the fancies that
are indeed "the trailing clouds of glory" he brings with him "from God
who is his home."_
_The rhythm of verse will charm his senses even in his baby days;
later on he will feel the beauty of some exquisite lyric phrase as
keenly as you do, for the ear will have been opened and will be
satisfied only with what is finest and best._
_The second division of the book "Little Prince and Princess" will
take the children out of the nursery into the garden, the farmyard,
and the world outside the Palace, where they will meet and play with
their fellows in an ever-widening circle of social activity. "Baby's
Hush-a-byes" in cradle or mother's lap will now give place to the
quiet cribside talks called "The Palace Bed Time" and "The Queen
Mother's Counsel"; and in the story hour "The Palace Jest-Book" will
furnish merriment for the youngsters who laughed the year before over
the simpler nonsense of Mother Goose._
_When the pinafores themselves are cast aside Pinafore Palace will be
outgrown, and you can find something better suited to the developing
requirements of the nursery folk in "The Posy Ring." Then the third
volume in our series--"Golden Numbers"--will give boys and girls from
ten to fifteen a taste of all the best and soundest poetry suitable to
their age, and after that they may enter on their full birthright,
"the rich deposit of the centuries."_
_No greater love for a task nor happiness in doing it, no more ardent
wish to please a child or meet a mother's need, ever went into a book
than have been wrought into this volume and its three predecessors. We
hope that it will find its way into the nurseries where wealth has
provided every means of ministering to the young child's growth in
body, mind, and soul; and if some of the Pinafore Palaces should be
neat little kitchens, what joy it would be to think of certain young
queen-mothers taking a breath between tasks to sit by the fire and
read to their royal babies while the bread is baking, the kettle
boiling, or the potatoes bubbling in the pot._
_"Where does Pinafore Palace stand?
Right in the middle of Lilliput Land."_
_And Lilliput Land is (or ought to be) the freeest country in the
universe. Its shining gates open wide at dawn, closing only at sunset,
and toddling pilgrims with eager faces enter and wander about at will.
Decked in velvet or clad in rags the friendly porter pays no heed, for
the pinafores hide all class distinctions._
_"We're bound for Pinafore Palace, sir,"
They say to the smiling gatekeeper.
"Do we need, if you please, an entrance ticket
Before we pass through your magic wicket?"
"Oh, no, little Prince and Princess dear,
All pinafores freely enter here!"_
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN.
* * * * *
_ACKNOWLEDGMENTS are herewith made to the following publishers for
permission to include in this volume selections from their copyrighted
publications:_
_Houghton, Mifflin & Co.: "A Dewdrop" and "Bees," from Little Folk
Lyrics, by Frank Dempster Sherman; "The Brown Thrush," from Childhood
Songs, by Lucy Larcom; "Bossy and Daisy," from The Old Garden, by
Margaret Deland; "Lost," from Poems for Children, by Celia Thaxter;
"Clothes," "A Music Box," and "Learning to Play," from A Pocketful of
Posies, by Abbie Farwell Brown._
_Lothrop, Lee & Shepard: "How they Sleep" and "The Darling Birds,"
from Babyland; "Follow Me," "Annie's Garden," "Good M | 3,143.985998 |
2023-11-16 19:09:28.1597680 | 437 | 26 |
Produced by ellinora,, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
THRILLS OF A BELL BOY
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THRILLS OF A
BELL BOY
By
Samuel Ellsworth Kiser
Author of “Love Sonnets of an Office Boy,”
“Ballads of the Busy Days,” etc.
Illustrated by
John T. McCutcheon
[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo]
Chicago
Forbes & Company
1906
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1904
BY THE SATURDAY EVENING POST
-------
Copyright, 1906
BY FORBES & COMPANY
Colonial Press: Electrotyped and Printed
by C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U. S. A.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THRILLS OF A
BELL BOY
I.
GEE! There’s a call from seven-forty-eight—
That’s Miss Le Claire; she wants some ice, I’ll bet;
She stars in “Mrs. Middleton’s Regret.”
And when you mention peaches—say, she’s great!
If I could marry her I guess I’d hate
To have to do it—nit! I’d go and get
A plug hat and a fur-trimmed coat and let
The guy that’s managin’ her, pay the freight.
They say she gets a hundred dollars per;
I’d like to draw that much a year or two.
They’d know I’d been around when I got through.
I wish the dude that comes here after her
Was in my place and me in his—I’d stir
Things up around this town. I wouldn’t do
A thing but buy her everything I knew | 3,144.179808 |
2023-11-16 19:09:28.1755270 | 3,113 | 17 |
Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
Transcriber's Note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
THE DECORATION OF HOUSES
Charles Scribner's
Sons
New York
1914
The
Decoration of
Houses
By
Edith Wharton
and
Ogden Codman Jr.
Copyright, 1897, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
"_Une forme doit etre belle en elle-meme et on ne doit jamais compter
sur le decor applique pour en sauver les imperfections._"
HENRI MAYEUX: _La Composition Decorative_.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION xix
I THE HISTORICAL TRADITION 1
II ROOMS IN GENERAL 17
III WALLS 31
IV DOORS 48
V WINDOWS 64
VI FIREPLACES 74
VII CEILINGS AND FLOORS 89
VIII ENTRANCE AND VESTIBULE 103
IX HALL AND STAIRS 106
X THE DRAWING-ROOM, BOUDOIR, AND MORNING-ROOM 122
XI GALA ROOMS: BALL-ROOM, SALOON, MUSIC-ROOM, GALLERY 134
XII THE LIBRARY, SMOKING-ROOM, AND "DEN" 145
XIII THE DINING-ROOM 155
XIV BEDROOMS 162
XV THE SCHOOL-ROOM AND NURSERIES 173
XVI BRIC-A-BRAC 184
CONCLUSION 196
INDEX 199
LIST OF PLATES
FACING PAGE
I ITALIAN GOTHIC CHEST 1
II FRENCH ARM-CHAIRS, XV AND XVI CENTURIES 6
III FRENCH _Armoire_, XVI CENTURY 10
IV FRENCH SOFA AND ARM-CHAIR, LOUIS XIV PERIOD 12
V ROOM IN THE GRAND TRIANON, VERSAILLES 14
VI FRENCH ARM-CHAIR, LOUIS XV PERIOD 16
VII FRENCH _Bergere_, LOUIS XVI PERIOD 20
VIII FRENCH _Bergere_, LOUIS XVI PERIOD 24
IX FRENCH SOFA, LOUIS XV PERIOD 28
X FRENCH MARQUETRY TABLE, LOUIS XVI PERIOD 30
XI DRAWING-ROOM, HOUSE IN BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON 34
XII ROOM IN THE VILLA VERTEMATI 38
XIII DRAWING-ROOM AT EASTON NESTON HALL 42
XIV DOORWAY, DUCAL PALACE, MANTUA 48
XV SALA DEI CAVALLI, PALAZZO DEL T 54
XVI DOOR IN THE SALA DELLO ZODIACO, DUCAL PALACE,
MANTUA 58
XVII EXAMPLES OF MODERN FRENCH LOCKSMITHS' WORK 60
XVIII CARVED DOOR, PALACE OF VERSAILLES 62
XIX SALON DES MALACHITES, GRAND TRIANON, VERSAILLES 68
XX MANTELPIECE, DUCAL PALACE, URBINO 74
XXI MANTELPIECE, VILLA GIACOMELLI 78
XXII FRENCH FIRE-SCREEN, LOUIS XIV PERIOD 86
XXIII CARVED WOODEN CEILING, VILLA VERTEMATI 90
XXIV CEILING IN PALAIS DE JUSTICE, RENNES 92
XXV CEILING OF THE SALA DEGLI SPOSI, DUCAL PALACE,
MANTUA 96
XXVI CEILING IN THE STYLE OF BERAIN 100
XXVII CEILING IN THE CHATEAU OF CHANTILLY 102
XXVIII ANTECHAMBER, VILLA CAMBIASO, GENOA 104
XXIX ANTECHAMBER, DURAZZO PALACE, GENOA 106
XXX STAIRCASE, PARODI PALACE, GENOA 108
XXXI STAIRCASE, HOTEL DE VILLE, NANCY 112
XXXII STAIRCASE, PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 116
XXXIII FRENCH _Armoire_, LOUIS XIV PERIOD 120
XXXIV SALA DELLA MADDALENA, ROYAL PALACE, GENOA 122
XXXV CONSOLE IN PETIT TRIANON, VERSAILLES 124
XXXVI SALON, PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 126
XXXVII ROOM IN THE PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 128
XXXVIII _Lit de Repos_, EARLY LOUIS XV PERIOD 130
XXXIX _Lit de Repos_, LOUIS XV PERIOD 130
XL PAINTED WALL-PANEL AND DOOR, CHANTILLY 132
XLI FRENCH BOUDOIR, LOUIS XVI PERIOD 132
XLII _Salon a l'italienne_ 136
XLIII BALL-ROOM, ROYAL PALACE, GENOA 138
XLIV SALOON, VILLA VERTEMATI 140
XLV SALA DELLO ZODIACO, DUCAL PALACE, MANTUA 140
XLVI FRENCH TABLE, TRANSITION BETWEEN LOUIS XIV AND
LOUIS XV PERIODS 142
XLVII LIBRARY OF LOUIS XVI, PALACE OF VERSAILLES 144
XLVIII SMALL LIBRARY, AUDLEY END 146
XLIX FRENCH WRITING-CHAIR, LOUIS XV PERIOD 150
L DINING-ROOM, PALACE OF COMPIEGNE 154
LI DINING-ROOM FOUNTAIN, PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 156
LII FRENCH DINING-CHAIR, LOUIS XIV PERIOD 158
LIII FRENCH DINING-CHAIR, LOUIS XVI PERIOD 158
LIV BEDROOM, PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 162
LV BATH-ROOM, PITTI PALACE, FLORENCE 168
LVI BRONZE ANDIRON, XVI CENTURY 184
BOOKS CONSULTED
FRENCH
ANDROUET DU CERCEAU, JACQUES.
Les Plus Excellents Batiments de France. _Paris, 1607._
LE MUET, PIERRE.
Maniere de Bien Batir pour toutes sortes de Personnes.
OPPENORD, GILLES MARIE.
Oeuvres. _1750._
MARIETTE, PIERRE JEAN.
L'Architecture Francoise. _1727._
BRISEUX, CHARLES ETIENNE.
L'Art de Batir les Maisons de Campagne. _Paris, 1743._
LALONDE, FRANCOIS RICHARD DE.
Recueil de ses Oeuvres.
AVILER, C. A. D'.
Cours d'Architecture. _1760._
BLONDEL, JACQUES FRANCOIS.
Architecture Francoise. _Paris, 1752._
Cours d'Architecture. _Paris, 1771-77._
De la Distribution des Maisons de Plaisance et de la
Decoration des Edifices. _Paris, 1737._
ROUBO, A. J., FILS.
L'Art du Menuisier.
HERE DE CORNY, EMMANUEL.
Recueil des Plans, Elevations et Coupes des Chateaux,
Jardins et Dependances que le Roi de Pologne occupe en
Lorraine. _Paris, n. d._
PERCIER ET FONTAINE.
Choix des plus Celebres Maisons de Plaisance de Rome et de
ses Environs. _Paris, 1809._
Palais, Maisons, et autres Edifices Modernes dessines a
Rome. _Paris, 1798._
Residences des Souverains. _Paris, 1833._
KRAFFT ET RANSONNETTE.
Plans, Coupes, et Elevations des plus belles Maisons et
Hotels construits a Paris et dans les Environs. _Paris,
1801._
DURAND, JEAN NICOLAS LOUIS.
Recueil et Parallele des Edifices de tout Genre. _Paris,
1800._
Precis des Lecons d'Architecture donnees a l'Ecole Royale
Polytechnique. _Paris, 1823._
QUATREMERE DE QUINCY, A. C.
Histoire de la Vie et des Ouvrages des plus Celebres
Architectes du XIe siecle jusqu'a la fin du XVIII siecle.
_Paris, 1830._
PELLASSY DE L'OUSLE.
Histoire du Palais de Compiegne. _Paris, n. d._
LETAROUILLY, PAUL MARIE.
Edifices de Rome Moderne. _Paris, 1825-57._
RAMEE, DANIEL.
Histoire Generale de l'Architecture. _Paris, 1862._
Meubles Religieux et Civils Conserves dans les principaux
Monuments et Musees de l'Europe.
VIOLLET LE DUC, EUGENE EMMANUEL.
Dictionnaire Raisonne de l'Architecture Francaise du XIe au
XVIe siecle. _Paris, 1868._
SAUVAGEOT, CLAUDE.
Palais, Chateaux, Hotels et Maisons de France du XVe au
XVIIIe siecle.
DALY, CESAR.
Motifs Historiques d'Architecture et de Sculpture
d'Ornement.
ROUYER ET DARCEL.
L'Art Architectural en France depuis Francois Ier jusqu'a
Louis XIV.
HAVARD, HENRY.
Dictionnaire de l'Ameublement et de la Decoration depuis le
XIIIe siecle jusqu'a nos Jours. _Paris, n. d._
Les Arts de l'Ameublement.
GUILMARD, D.
Les Maitres Ornemanistes. _Paris, 1880._
BAUCHAL, CHARLES.
Dictionnaire des Architectes Francais. _Paris, 1887._
ROUAIX, PAUL.
Les Styles. _Paris, n. d._
BIBLIOTHEQUE DE L'ENSEIGNEMENT DES BEAUX ARTS.
Maison Quantin, _Paris_.
ENGLISH
WARE, ISAAC.
A Complete Body of Architecture. _London, 1756._
BRETTINGHAM, MATTHEW.
Plans, Elevations and Sections of Holkham in Norfolk, the
Seat of the late Earl of Leicester. _London, 1761._
CAMPBELL, COLEN.
Vitruvius Britannicus; or, The British Architect. _London,
1771._
ADAM, ROBERT AND JAMES.
The Works in Architecture. _London, 1773-1822._
HEPPLEWHITE, A.
The Cabinet-Maker and Upholsterer's Guide.
SHERATON, THOMAS.
The Cabinet-Maker's Dictionary. _London, 1803._
PAIN, WILLIAM.
The British Palladio; or The Builder's General Assistant.
_London, 1797._
SOANE, SIR JOHN.
Sketches in Architecture. _London, 1793._
HAKEWILL, ARTHUR WILLIAM.
General Plan and External Details, with Picturesque
Illustrations, of Thorpe Hall, Peterborough.
LEWIS, JAMES.
Original Designs in Architecture.
PYNE, WILLIAM HENRY.
History of the Royal Residences of Windsor Castle, St.
James's Palace, Carlton House, Kensington Palace, Hampton
Court, Buckingham Palace, and Frogmore. _London, 1819._
GWILT, JOSEPH.
Encyclopedia of Architecture. New edition. _Longman's,
1895._
FERGUSSON, JAMES.
History of Architecture. _London, 1874._
History of the Modern Styles of Architecture. Third edition,
revised by Robert Kerr. _London, 1891._
GOTCH, JOHN ALFRED.
Architecture of the Renaissance in England.
HEATON, JOHN ALDAM.
Furniture and Decoration in England in the Eighteenth
Century.
ROSENGARTEN.
Handbook of Architectural Styles. _New York, 1876._
HORNE, H. P.
The Binding of Books. _London, 1894._
LOFT | 3,144.195567 |
2023-11-16 19:09:28.2271430 | 4,268 | 19 |
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, David Cortesi, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 28152-h.htm or 28152-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/1/5/28152/28152-h/28152-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/1/5/28152/28152-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Several minor typographical errors have been corrected in
transcribing this work: contineu, secresy, bubling,
reconnoissance, cotemporary, delived (should be delivered),
eat (ate), Alleghany, amendmet, lage (large). Otherwise the
text is original and retains some inconsistent or outdated
spellings.
The original contains two lengthy addenda supplied by the
publisher which were not named in the Table of Contents.
Entries for these have been added to the Contents for
the convenience of the reader.
Despite the many testimonials in this book, as of 2008, the
source of the Mississippi is considered to be Lake Itasca.
Following a five-month investigation in 1891 it was decided
that the stream from Elk Lake (the body that Glazier would
have called Lake Glazier) into Itasca is too insignificant
to be deemed the river's source. Both lakes can be seen,
looking much as they do in the maps in this book, by directing
any online mapping service to 47 deg.11'N, 95 deg.14'W.
SWORD AND PEN
* * * * *
POPULAR WORKS OF
Captain Willard Glazier.
THE SOLDIER-AUTHOR.
I. Soldiers of the Saddle.
II. Capture, Prison-Pen, and Escape.
III. Battles for the Union.
IV. Heroes of Three Wars.
V. Peculiarities of American Cities.
VI. Down the Great River.
Captain Glazier's works are growing more and more popular
every day. Their delineations of military life, constantly
varying scenes, and deeply interesting stories, combine to
place their writer in the front rank of American authors.
SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION.
PERSONS DESIRING AGENCIES FOR ANY OF CAPTAIN GLAZIER'S
BOOKS SHOULD ADDRESS
THE PUBLISHERS
* * * * *
[Illustration: (signed) Willard Glazier]
SWORD AND PEN;
or,
Ventures and Adventures
of
WILLARD GLAZIER,
(The Soldier-Author,)
In
War and Literature:
Comprising
Incidents and Reminiscences of His Childhood; His
Chequered Life As a Student and Teacher; and His
Remarkable Career As a Soldier and Author;
Embracing Also the Story of His Unprecedented
Journey from Ocean to Ocean
on Horseback; and an Account of
His Discovery of the True Source
of the Mississippi River, and
Canoe Voyage Thence to
the Gulf of Mexico.
by
JOHN ALGERNON OWENS.
Illustrated.
Philadelphia:
P. W. Ziegler &. Company, Publishers,
720 Chestnut Street.
1890.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by
John Algernon Owens,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C.
PREFACE.
No apology will be required from the author for presenting to the public
some episodes in the useful career of a self-made man; and while the
spirit of patriotism continues to animate the sturdy sons of America,
the story of one of them who has exemplified this national trait in a
conspicuous measure, will be deemed not unworthy of record. The lessons
it teaches, more especially to the young, are those of uncompromising
_duty_ in every relation of life--self-denial, perseverance and "pluck;"
while the successive stages of a course which led ultimately to a
brilliant success, may be studied with some advantage by those just
entering upon the business of life. As a soldier, Willard Glazier was
"without fear and without reproach." As an author, it is sufficient to
say, he is appreciated by his _contemporaries_--than which, on a
literary man, no higher encomium can be passed. The sale of nearly half
a million copies of one of his productions is no slight testimony to its
value.
Biography, to be interesting, must be a transcript of an eventful, as
well as a remarkable career; and to be instructive, its subject should
be exemplary in his aims, and in his mode of attaining them. The hero of
this story comes fully up to the standard thus indicated. His career has
been a romance. Born of parents of small means but of excellent
character and repute; and bred and nurtured in the midst of some of the
wildest and grandest scenery in the rugged county of St. Lawrence,
close by the "Thousand Isles," where New York best proves her right to
be called the Empire State through the stamp of royalty on her hills and
streams--under the shadow of such surroundings as these, my subject
attained maturity, with no opportunities for culture except those he
made for himself. Yet he became possessed of an education eminently
useful, essentially practical and calculated to establish just such
habits of self-reliance and decision as afterwards proved chiefly
instrumental in his success. Glazier had a fixed ambition to rise. He
felt that the task would be difficult of accomplishment--that he must be
not only the architect, but the builder of his own fortunes; and, as the
statue grows beneath the sculptor's hand to perfect contour from the
unshapely block of marble, so prosperity came to Captain Glazier only
after he had cut and chiseled away at the hard surface of inexorable
circumstance, and moulded therefrom the statue of his destiny.
J. A. O.
Philadelphia, _June 14th_, 1880.
* * * * *
TO
THE MEMORY OF
ULYSSES SIMPSON GRANT,
WHOSE SWORD,
AND TO THAT OF
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW,
WHOSE PEN,
Have so Nobly Illustrated the Valor and Genius of their Country:
THE AUTHOR,
In a Spirit of Profound Admiration for
THE RENOWNED SOLDIER,
And of Measureless Gratitude to
THE IMMORTAL WRITER,
Dedicates This Book.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
ORIGIN OF THE GLAZIER FAMILY.
Lineage of Willard Glazier.--A good stock.--Oliver Glazier at the
Battle of Bunker Hill.--The home of honest industry.--The Coronet of
Pembroke.--The "Homestead Farm."--Mehitable Bolton.--Her New England
home.--Her marriage to Ward Glazier.--The wild "North Woods."--The
mother of the soldier-author 21
CHAPTER II.
BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF WILLARD GLAZIER.
The infant stranger.--A mother's prayers.--"Be just before you are
generous."--Careful training.--Willard Glazier's first battle.--A
narrow escape.--Facing the foe.--The "happy days of childhood."--
"The boy is father to the man" 27
CHAPTER III.
EARLY LIFE AND HABITS.
Scotch-Irish Presbyterianism of twenty-five years ago.--The "little
deacon."--First days at school.--Choosing a wife.--A youthful
gallant.--A close scholar but a wild lad.--A mother's influence.--
Ward Glazier a Grahamite.--Young Willard's practical jokes.--
Anecdote of Crystal Spring.--"That is something like water" 34
CHAPTER IV.
WILLARD GLAZIER AT SCHOOL.
School-days continued.--Boys will be boys.--Cornelius Carter, the
teacher.--Young Willard's rebellion against injustice.--
Gum-chewing.--Laughable race through the snow.--The tumble into a
snow-bank, and what came of it.--The runaway caught.--Explanation
and reconciliation.--The new master, James Nichols.--"Spare the rod
and spoil the child."--The age of chivalry not gone.--Magnanimity
of a school-boy.--Friendship between Willard and Henry
Abbott.--Good-bye to the "little deacon" 42
CHAPTER V.
ECCENTRICITIES OF HENRY GLAZIER.
Henry Glazier.--A singular character.--"Kaw-shaw-gan-ce" and
"Quaw-taw-pee-ab."--Tom Lolar and Henry Glazier.--Attractive
show-bills.--Billy Muldoon and his trombone.--Behind the
scenes.--"Sound your G!"--The mysterious musician.--What happened to
Billy.--"May the divil fly away wid ye!" 50
CHAPTER VI.
VISIONS OF THE FUTURE.
The big uncle and the little nephew.--Exchange of ideas between the
eccentric Henry Glazier and young Willard.--Inseparable
companions.---Willard's early reading.--Favorite authors.--
Hero-worship of the first Napoleon and Charles XII. of Sweden.--
The genius of good and of evil.--Allen Wight.--A born teacher.--
Reverses of fortune.--The shadow on the home.--Willard's resolve
to seek his fortune and what came of it.--The sleep under the
trees.--The prodigal's return.--"All's well that ends well" 58
CHAPTER VII.
WILLARD GLAZIER AT HOME.
Out of boyhood.--Days of adolescence.--True family pride.--Schemes
for the future.--Willard as a temperance advocate.--Watering his
grandfather's whiskey.--The pump behind the hill.--The sleigh-ride
by night.--The "shakedown" at Edward's.--Intoxicated by tobacco
fumes.--The return ride.--Landed in a snow-bank.--Good-bye horses
and sleigh!--Plodding through the snow 68
CHAPTER VIII.
ADVENTURES--EQUINE AND BOVINE.
Ward Glazier moves to the Davis Place.--"Far in the lane a lonely
house he found."--Who was Davis?--Description of the place.--A wild
spot for a home.--Willard at work.--Adventure with an ox-team.--The
road, the bridge and the stream.--"As an ox thirsteth for the
water."--Dashed from a precipice!--Willard as a horse-tamer.--
"Chestnut Bess," the blooded mare.--The start for home.--"Bess" on
the rampage.--A lightning dash.--The stooping arch.--Bruised and
unconscious 75
CHAPTER IX.
THE YOUNG TRAPPER OF THE OSWEGATCHIE.
A plan of life.--Determination to procure an education.--A
substitute at the plow.--His father acquiesces in his determination
to become a trapper.--Life in the wild woods along the
Oswegatchie.--The six "dead falls."--First success.--A fallacious
calculation.--The goal attained.--Seventy-five dollars in hard
cash!--Four terms of academic life.--The youthful rivals.--Lessons
in elocution.--A fight with hair-brushes and chairs!--"The walking
ghost of a kitchen fire."--Renewed friendship.--Teaching to obtain
means for an education 87
CHAPTER X.
THE SOLDIER SCHOOL-MASTER.
From boy to man.--The Lyceum debate.--Willard speaks for the
slave.--Entrance to the State Normal School.--Reverses.--Fighting
the world again.--Assistance from fair hands.--Willard meets Allen
Barringer.--John Brown, and what Willard thought of him.--Principles
above bribe.--Examination.--A sleepless night.--Haunted by the
"ghost of possible defeat."--"Here is your certificate."--The school
at Schodack Centre.--At the "Normal" again.--The Edwards
School.--Thirty pupils at two dollars each.--The "soldier
school-master."--Teachers at East Schodack.--The runaway
ride.--Good-by mittens, robes and whip!--Close of school at East
Schodack 102
CHAPTER XI.
INTRODUCTION TO MILITARY LIFE.
The mutterings of war.--Enlistment.--At Camp Howe.--First experience
as a soldier.--"One step to the front!"--Beyond Washington.--On
guard.--Promotion.--Recruiting service.--The deserted home on
Arlington Heights.--"How shall I behave in the coming battle?"--The
brave Bayard.--On the march.--The stratagem at Falmouth Heights.--A
brilliant charge.--After the battle 118
CHAPTER XII.
FIRST BATTLE OF BRANDY STATION.
The sentinel's lonely round.--General Pope in command of the
army.--Is gunboat service effective?--First cavalry battle of Brandy
Station.--Under a rain of bullets.--Flipper's orchard.--"Bring on
the brigade, boys!"--Capture of Confederate prisoners.--Story of a
revolver.--Cedar Mountain.--Burial of the dead rebel.--Retreat from
the Rapidan.--The riderless horse.--Death of Captain Walters 128
CHAPTER XIII.
MANASSAS AND FREDERICKSBURG.
Manassas.--The flying troops.--The unknown hero.--Desperate
attempt to stop the retreat.--Recruiting the decimated
ranks.--Fredericksburg.--Bravery of Meagher's brigade.--The
impregnable heights.--The cost of battles.--Death of
Bayard.--Outline of his life 135
CHAPTER XIV.
UNWRITTEN HISTORY.
"What boots a weapon in a withered hand?"--A thunderbolt
wasted.--War upon hen-roosts.--A bit of unpublished history.--A
fierce fight with Hampton's cavalry.--In one red burial blent.--From
camp to home.--Troubles never come singly.--The combat.--The
capture.--A superfluity of Confederate politeness.--Lights and
shadows 144
CHAPTER XV.
THE CAPTURE.
A situation to try the stoutest hearts.--Hail Columbia!--Every man a
hero.--Kilpatrick's ingenuity.--A pen-picture from "Soldiers of the
Saddle."--Glazier thanked by his general.--Cessation of
hostilities.--A black day.--Fitzhugh Lee proposes to crush
Kilpatrick.--Kil's audacity.--Capture of Lieutenant Glazier.--Petty
tyranny.--"Here, Yank, hand me that thar hat, and overcoat, and
boots" 155
CHAPTER XVI.
LIBBY PRISON.
"All ye who enter here abandon hope."--Auld lang syne.--Major
Turner.--Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.--Stoicism.--Glazier
enters the prison-hospital--A charnel-house.--Rebel surgeons.--
Prison correspondence.--Specimen of a regulation letter.--The
tailor's joke.--A Roland for an Oliver.--News of death.--Schemes
for escape.--The freemasonry of misfortune.--Plot and
counter-plot.--The pursuit of pleasure under difficulties 166
CHAPTER XVII.
PRISON LIFE.
Mournful news.--How a brave man dies.--New Year's day.--Jolly under
unfavorable circumstances.--Major Turner pays his respects.--
Punishment for singing "villainous Yankee songs."--Confederate
General John Morgan.--Plans for escape.--Digging their way to
freedom.--"Poet No. 1, All's well."--Yankee ingenuity.--The tunnel
ready.--Muscle the trump card.--No respect to rank.--_Sauve qui
peut!_--A strategic movement.--"Guards! guards!"--Absentees from
muster.--Disappointed hopes.--Savage treatment of prisoners.--Was
the prison mined? 179
CHAPTER XVIII.
DANVILLE.--MACON.--SAVANNAH.
Belle Boyd, the Confederate spy.--National characteristics.--Colonel
Mosby.--Richmond to Danville.--Sleeping spoon-fashion.--Glazier's
"corrective point" suffers.--Saltatory entrance to a railroad
car.--Colonel Joselyn.--Sympathy of North Carolinians.--Ingenious
efforts to escape.--Augusta.--Macon.--Turner again!--"Carelessness"
with firearms.--Tunneling.--Religious revival.--Order from
Confederate War Department.--Murder!--Fourth of July.--Macon to
Savannah.--Camp Davidson.--More tunneling 194
CHAPTER XIX.
UNDER FIRE AT CHARLESTON.
Under siege.--Charleston Jail.--The Stars and Stripes.--Federal
compliments.--Under the guns.--Roper Hospital.--Yellow
Jack.--Sisters of Charity.--Rebel Christianity.--A Byronic
stanza.--Charleston to Columbia.--"Camp Sorghum."--Nemesis.--Another
dash for liberty.--Murder of Lieutenants Young and Parker.--Studying
topography.--A vaticination.--Back to reality 206
CHAPTER XX.
THE ESCAPE FROM COLUMBIA.
Mysterious voices.--"I reckon dey's Yankees."---"Who comes
there?"--The Lady of the Manor.--A weird spectacle.--The struggle
through the swamp.--A reflection on Southern swamps in
general.--"Tired nature's sweet restorer" 221
CHAPTER XXI.
LOYALTY OF THE <DW64>s.
Startled by hounds.--An unpleasant predicament.--A Christian
gentlewoman.--Appeal to Mrs. Colonel Taylor.--"She did all she
could."--A meal fit for the gods.--Aunt Katy.--"Lor' bress ye,
marsters!"--Uncle Zeb's prayer.--Hoe-cake and pinders.--Woodcraft
_versus_ astronomy.--Canine foes.--Characteristics of the slave.--
Meeting escaped prisoners.--Danger.--Retreat and concealment 228
CHAPTER XXII.
PROGRESS OF THE FUGITIVES.
Parting company.--Thirst and no water.--Hoping for the end.--The boy
and the chicken.--Conversation of ladies overheard.--The fugitives
pursued.--The sleeping village.--Captain Bryant.--The _alba
sus_.--Justifiable murder, and a delicious meal.--<DW54>s and their
prayers.--Man proposes; God disposes.--An adventure.--A _ruse de
guerre_.--Across the Savannah 238
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE PERILS OF AN ESCAPE.
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Produced by Bryan Ness, Annie McGuire and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
+------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note |
|Spelling, punctuation and inconsistencies |
|in the original book have been retained. |
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[Illustration: Book Cover]
The Renewal of Life
BY MISS MORLEY
A SONG OF LIFE. 12mo $1.25
LIFE AND LOVE. 12mo 1.25
THE BEE PEOPLE. 12mo 1.25
THE HONEY-MAKERS. 12mo 1.25
LITTLE MITCHELL. 12mo 1.25
THE RENEWAL OF LIFE. 12mo 1.25
_Each fully illustrated_
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
CHICAGO
The Renewal of Life
_How and When to Tell the Story to the Young_
By
Margaret Warner Morley
Author of "A Song of Life," "Life and Love," etc.
Illustrated
[Illustration: Publisher's Logo]
Chicago
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1906
COPYRIGHT BY
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1906
Published September 15, 1906
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE RENEWAL OF LIFE 9
II. WHO IS TO TELL THE STORY, AND WHEN IS IT TO BE TOLD? 17
III. HOW TO TELL THE STORY 27
IV. TELLING THE TRUTH 36
V. ON NATURE STUDY 40
VI. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SEED 52
VII. THE FERTILIZATION OF THE FLOWER 87
VIII. WHAT CAN BE LEARNED FROM THE LIFE OF THE FISH 107
IX. AMPHIBIOUS LIFE 127
X. THE BIRD 137
XI. THE MAMMAL 154
XII. VIGILANCE 169
XIII. THE TRANSFORMATION 178
LIST OF BOOKS HELPFUL IN STUDYING PLANT AND ANIMAL LIFE 193
_The Renewal of Life_
_How and When to Tell The Story to the Young_
I
THE RENEWAL OF LIFE
Every human being must sooner or later know the facts concerning the
origin of his life on the earth. One of the most puzzling questions is
how and when such information should be given to the young.
There is nothing the parent more desires than that his child should have
a high ideal in regard to the sex-life and that he should live in
accordance with that ideal, yet nowhere is careful and systematic
education so lacking as here.
What parent would allow his child to go untaught in the particulars
concerning truth-telling, honesty, cleanliness, and behavior, trusting
that in some way the child would discover the facts necessary to the
practice of these virtues and live accordingly? And yet with apparent
inconsistency one of the prime virtues is neglected; one of the most
vital needs of every human being--the understanding of his
sex-nature--is too often left entirely to chance. Not only is the youth
uninstructed, but no proper way of learning the truth is within his
reach. It is as though he were set blindfold in the midst of dangerous
pitfalls, with the admonition not to fall into any of them. Those who
ought to tell the facts will not, consequently the facts must be
gathered from chance sources which are too often bad, poisoning mind and
heart. Even the physiologies, with the exception of those large, and to
the average reader inaccessible, volumes used in medical schools,
scarcely ever touch upon the subject. Of course these larger books give
only the physiological facts couched in scientific terms. How and where,
then, can the youth learn what he needs to know?
It is true there is a noble effort being made for young men, and to a
less extent for young women, by certain organizations that exist for
the help of the young, to supply this curious defect in our educational
system; but these efforts reach but comparatively few members in a
community, and come too late in the life of the young to give them their
first impressions on the subject. Perhaps the most encouraging sign for
the future is the interest that thousands of mothers in all walks of
life are to-day taking in the best methods of training their children to
a right understanding and noble conception of sex-life. Innumerable
mothers' clubs give the subject a place in the curriculum of the club
work, at stated times discussing, reading, consulting all available
authorities which may be of help. Some of these mothers live in poor
homes in neighborhoods where their children are exposed to all sorts of
evil communications and temptations. Others have sheltered homes, from
which the children go out among refined associates from whom there may
be little danger of learning that which is evil. Yet others live in
moderate circumstances, where the home influences may be good, but
where the children are liable to mingle with a heterogeneous society in
their school and perhaps in their social life.
Moreover, in all these homes there are children of different
natures,--some with temperaments which make it easy for them to imbibe
harmful information, while others as naturally resent such information.
Nor is the child of rich parents living in a costly home necessarily the
child least likely to make mistakes. The facts quickly refute any such
idea. It is the child most carefully trained at home, with the most
inspiring counsel and the wisest guidance in all directions, who has the
best chance for successful living, the child whose parents not only
secure the best outside assistance where such is necessary, but who
themselves take a vital and continuous interest in his education. Such
parents, where the help of nurses and teachers is necessary in the home,
see to it that these helpers are wholesome, high-minded companions for
the growing minds put under their charge.
The poorest child is the child of wealthy parents, who is turned over to
hirelings, chosen more for their accent of a foreign tongue than for
their knowledge of child life and of the laws which govern the growing
mind and body. Such children not infrequently become as depraved as the
most neglected and exposed child of the slums, later poisoning the minds
or shocking the sensibilities of children in the schools they attend.
One of the difficulties every mother has to encounter is the presence of
undesirable companions in the school. The argument that a child coming
from a sheltered home will not be influenced by such companions is only
in part true. He may not be influenced, or, again, he may. Among older
children, if the wrongdoer be dazzling in manner, looks, social
position, or even in power to lavish money, he will acquire a certain
ascendency over many of his companions, who, if not safeguarded against
his allurements by a clear knowledge of the facts of life, may fall into
his snares.
How, then, can all these various situations be dealt with? How, how
much, when, and where shall the youth be safeguarded against influences,
misconceptions, and mistakes which may mar his whole after-life? These
are the questions which in part | 3,144.374947 |
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Transcribed from the 1896 Smith, Elder and Co. "From Lizzie Leigh and
Other Tales" edition by David Price, email [email protected]. Proofed
by Jennifer Lee, Alev Akman and Andy Wallace.
AN ACCURSED RACE
Elizabeth Gaskell
We have our prejudices in England. Or, if that assertion offends any of
my readers, I will modify it: we have had our prejudices in England. We
have tortured Jews; we have burnt Catholics and Protestants, to say
nothing of a few witches and wizards. We have satirized Puritans, and we
have dressed-up Guys. But, after all, I do not think we have been so bad
as our Continental friends. To be sure, our insular position has kept us
free, to a certain degree, from the inroads of alien races; who, driven
from one land of refuge, steal into another equally unwilling to receive
them; and where, for long centuries, their presence is barely endured,
and no pains is taken to conceal the repugnance which the natives of
"pure blood" experience towards them.
There yet remains a remnant of the miserable people called Cagots in the
valleys of the Pyrenees; in the Landes near Bourdeaux; and, stretching up
on the west side of France, their numbers become larger in Lower
Brittany. Even now, the origin of these families is a word of shame to
them among their neighbours; although they are protected by the law,
which confirmed them in the equal rights of citizens about the end of the
last century. Before then they had lived, for hundreds of years,
isolated from all those who boasted of pure blood, and they had been, all
this time, oppressed by cruel local edicts. They were truly what they
were popularly called, The Accursed Race.
All distinct traces of their origin are lost. Even at the close of that
period which we call the Middle Ages, this was a problem which no one
could solve; and as the traces, which even then were faint and uncertain,
have vanished away one by one, it is a complete mystery at the present
day. Why they were accursed in the first instance, why isolated from
their kind, no one knows. From the earliest accounts of their state that
are yet remaining to us, it seems that the names which they gave each
other were ignored by the population they lived amongst, who spoke of
them as Crestiaa, or Cagots, just as we speak of animals by their generic
names. Their houses or huts were always placed at some distance out of
the villages of the country-folk, who unwillingly called in the services
of the Cagots as carpenters, or tilers, or slaters--trades which seemed
appropriated by this unfortunate race--who were forbidden to occupy land,
or to bear arms, the usual occupations of those times. They had some
small right of pasturage on the common lands, and in the forests: but the
number of their cattle and live-stock was strictly limited by the
earliest laws relating to the Cagots. They were forbidden by one act to
have more than twenty sheep, a pig, a ram, and six geese. The pig was to
be fattened and killed for winter food; the fleece of the sheep was to
clothe them; but if the said sheep had lambs, they were forbidden to eat
them. Their only privilege arising from this increase was, that they
might choose out the strongest and finest in preference to keeping the
old sheep. At Martinmas the authorities of the commune came round, and
counted over the stock of each Cagot. If he had more than his appointed
number, they were forfeited; half went to the commune, half to the
baillie, or chief magistrate of the commune. The poor beasts were
limited as to the amount of common which they might stray over in search
of grass. While the cattle of the inhabitants of the commune might
wander hither and thither in search of the sweetest herbage, the deepest
shade, or the coolest pool in which to stand on the hot days, and lazily
switch their dappled sides, the Cagot sheep and pig had to learn
imaginary bounds, beyond which if they strayed, any one might snap them
up, and kill them, reserving a part of the flesh for his own use, but
graciously restoring the inferior parts to their original owner. Any
damage done by the sheep was, however, fairly appraised, and the Cagot
paid no more for it than any other man would have done.
Did a Cagot leave his poor cabin, and venture into the towns, even to
render services required of him in the way of his he was bidden, by all
the municipal laws, to stand by and remember his rude old state. In all
the towns and villages the large districts extending on both sides of the
Pyrenees--in all that part of Spain--they were forbidden to buy or sell
anything eatable, to walk in the middle (esteemed the better) part of the
streets, to come within the gates before sunrise, or to be found after
sunset within the walls of the town. But still, as the Cagots were good-
looking men, and (although they bore certain natural marks of their
caste, of which I shall speak by-and-by) were not easily distinguished by
casual passers-by from other men, they were compelled to wear some
distinctive peculiarity which should arrest the eye; and, in the greater
number of towns, it was decreed that the outward sign of a Cagot should
be a piece of red cloth sewed conspicuously on the front of his dress. In
other towns, the mark of Cagoterie was the foot of a duck or a goose hung
over their left shoulder, so as to be seen by any one meeting them. After
a time, the more convenient badge of a piece of yellow cloth cut out in
the shape of a duck's foot, was adopted. If any Cagot was found in any
town or village without his badge, he had to pay a fine of five sous, and
to lose his dress. He was expected to shrink away from any passer-by,
for fear that their clothes should touch each other; or else to stand
still in some corner or by-place. If the Cagots were thirsty during the
days which they passed in those towns where their presence was barely
suffered, they had no means of quenching their thirst, for they were
forbidden to enter into the little cabarets or taverns. Even the water
gushing out of the common fountain was prohibited to them. Far away, in
their own squalid village, there was the Cagot fountain, and they were
not allowed to drink of any other water. A Cagot woman having to make
purchases in the town, was liable to be flogged out of it if she went to
buy anything except on a Monday--a day on which all other people who
could, kept their houses for fear of coming in contact with the accursed
race.
In the Pays Basque, the prejudices--and for some time the laws--ran
stronger against | 3,144.499797 |
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Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org
THE WILL TO DOUBT
AN ESSAY IN PHILOSOPHY FOR THE
GENERAL THINKER
BY
ALFRED H. LLOYD
Truth hath neither visible form nor body; it is without habitation or name;
like the Son of Man it hath not where to lay its head.
LONDON
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO., Lim.
25 HIGH STREET, BLOOMSBURY, W.C.
1907
PREFACE.
The chapters that follow comprise what might be called an introduction
to philosophy, but such a description of them would probably be
misleading, for they are addressed quite as much to the general reader,
or rather to the general thinker, as to the prospective student of
technical philosophy. They are the attempt of a University teacher of
philosophy to meet what is a real emergency of the day, namely, the
doubt that is appearing in so many departments of life, that is
affecting so many people, and that is fraught with so many dangers, and
in attempting this they would also at least help to bridge the chasm
between academic sophistication and practical life, self-consciousness
and positive activity. With peculiar truth at the present time the
University can justify itself only by serving real life, and it can
serve real life, not merely by bringing its pure science down to, or up
to, the health and the industrial pursuits of the people, but also by
explaining, which is even to say by applying, as science is "applied,"
or by animating the general scepticism of the time.
That this scepticism is often charged to the peculiar training of the
University hardly needs to be said, but except for its making such an
undertaking as the present essay only the more appropriate the charge
itself is strangely humorous. One might also accuse the University of
making atoms and germs, or, by its magic theories, of generating
electricity or disease. Scepticism is a world-wide, life-wide fact; even
like heat or electricity, it is a natural force or agent--unless
forsooth one must exclude all the attitudes of mind from what in the
fullest and deepest sense is natural; scepticism, in short, is a real
phase of whatever is real, and its explanation is an academic
responsibility. Its explanation, however, like the explanation of
everything real or natural, can be complete only when, as already
suggested here, its application and animation have been achieved, or
when it has been shown to be properly and effectively an object of will.
So, just as we have the various applied sciences, in this essay there is
offered an applied philosophy of doubt, a philosophy that would show
doubt to have a real part in effective action, and that with the showing
would make both the doubting and the acting so much the more effective.
But it may be said that effective acting depends, not on doubt, but
rather on belief, on confidence or "credit." This will prove to be true,
excepting in what it denies. To be commonplace, to write down here and
now what is at once the truism and the paradox of this book, a vital,
practical belief must always live by doubting. Was it Schopenhauer who
declared that man walks only by saving himself at every step from a
fall? The meaning of this book is much the same, although no pessimism
is either intended or necessarily implied in such a declaration. Doubt
is no mere negative of belief; rather it is a very vital part of belief,
it has a place in the believer's experience and volition; the doubters
in society, be they trained at the University or not, and those
practical creatures in society who have kept the faith, who believe and
who do, are naturally and deeply in sympathy. And this essay seeks to
deepen their natural sympathy.
Here, then, is my simple thesis. Doubt is essential to real belief.
Perhaps this means that all vital problems are bound in a real life to
be perennial, and certainly it cannot mean that in its support I may be
expected by my readers to give a solution of every special problem that
might be raised, an answer to every question about knowledge or
morality, about religion or politics or industry, that might be asked.
Problems and questions, of course the natural children, not of doubt,
but of doubt and belief, may be as worthy and as practical as solutions.
Some of them may be even better put than answered. But be this as it
may, the present essay must be taken for what it is, not for something
else. It is, then, for reasons not less practical than theoretical, an
attempt to face and, so far as may be, to solve the very general problem
of doubt itself, or say simply--if this be simple--the problem of
whatever in general is problematic; and, this done, to suggest what may
be the right attitude for doubters and believers towards each other and
towards life and the world which is life's natural sphere; emphatically
it is not the announcement of a programme for life in any of its
departments.
The substance of chapters I., II., III., IV., and V. in small parts, and
VI. and VIII. was given during the summer of 1903 in lectures before the
Glenmore School of the Culture Sciences at Hurricane in the Adirondacks,
and except for some revision chapters V. and VII. have already been
published--Science, July 5, 1902, and the journal of Philosophy,
Psychology and Scientific Methods, June, 1905.
To Professor Muirhead, the Editor of the Ethical Library, I wish here to
express my hearty appreciation of his interest and assistance in the
final preparation of this volume for publication.
A. H. L.
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN,
ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
I. Introduction
II. The Confession of Doubt
III. Difficulties in the Ordinary View of Things
IV. The View of Science: its Rise and Consequent Character
V. The View of Science: its Peculiar Limitations
i. Science would be Objective
ii. Science would be Specialistic
iii. Science would be Agnostic
VI. Possible Value in these Essential Defects of Experience
VII. The Personal and the Social, the Vital and the Formal in Experience
VIII. An Early Modern Doubter
IX. The Doubter's World
i. Reality, without Finality, in all Things
ii. Perfect Sympathy between the Spiritual and the Material
iii. A Genuine Individuality
iv. Immortality
X. Doubt and Belief
Index
THE WILL TO DOUBT.
[p.001]
I.
INTRODUCTION.
Without undue sensationalism it may be said that this is an age of
doubt. Wherever one looks in journeying through the different
departments of life one sees doubt. And one sees, too, some of the | 3,144.703995 |
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KENELM CHILLINGLY
HIS ADVENTURES AND OPINIONS
By Edward Bulwer Lytton
(LORD LYTTON)
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
SIR PETER CHILLINGLY, of Exmundham, Baronet, F.R.S. and F.A.S., was the
representative of an ancient family, and a landed proprietor of some
importance. He had married young; not from any ardent inclination for
the connubial state, but in compliance with the request of his parents.
They took the pains to select his bride; and if they might have chosen
better, they might have chosen worse, which is more than can be said for
many men who choose wives for themselves. Miss Caroline Brotherton was
in all respects a suitable connection. She had a pretty fortune, which
was of much use in buying a couple of farms, long desiderated by the
Chillinglys as necessary for the rounding of their property into a
ring-fence. She was highly connected, and brought into the county that
experience of fashionable life acquired by a young lady who has attended
a course of balls for three seasons, and gone out in matrimonial
honours, with credit to herself and her chaperon. She was handsome
enough to satisfy a husband's pride, but not so handsome as to keep
perpetually on the _qui vive_ a husband's jealousy. She was considered
highly accomplished; that is, she played upon the pianoforte so that any
musician would say she "was very well taught;" but no musician would
go out of his way to hear her a second time. She painted in
water-colours--well enough to amuse herself. She knew French and Italian
with an elegance so lady-like that, without having read more than
selected extracts from authors in those languages, she spoke them both
with an accent more correct than we have any reason to attribute to
Rousseau or Ariosto. What else a young lady may acquire in order to be
styled highly accomplished I do not pretend to know; but I am sure that
the young lady in question fulfilled that requirement in the opinion
of the best masters. It was not only an eligible match for Sir
Peter Chillingly,--it was a brilliant match. It was also a very
unexceptionable match for Miss Caroline Brotherton. This excellent
couple got on together as most excellent couples do. A short time after
marriage, Sir Peter, by the death of his parents--who, having married
their heir, had nothing left in life worth the trouble of living
for--succeeded to the hereditary estates; he lived for nine months of
the year at Exmundham, going to town for the other three months. Lady
Chillingly and himself were both very glad to go to town, being bored at
Exmundham; and very glad to go back to Exmundham, being bored in town.
With one exception it was an exceedingly happy marriage, as marriages
go. Lady Chillingly had her way in small things; Sir Peter his way in
great. Small things happen every day; great things once in three years.
Once in three years Lady Chillingly gave way to Sir Peter; households so
managed go on regularly. The exception to their connubial happiness was,
after all, but of a negative description. Their affection was such
that they sighed for a pledge of it; fourteen years had he and Lady
Chillingly remained unvisited by the little stranger.
Now, in default of male issue, Sir Peter's estates passed to a distant
cousin as heir-at-law; and during the last four years this heir-at-law
had evinced his belief that practically speaking he was already
heir-apparent; and (though Sir Peter was a much younger man than
himself, and as healthy as any man well can be) had made his
expectations of a speedy succession unpleasantly conspicuous. He had
refused his consent to a small exchange of lands with a neighbouring
squire, by which Sir Peter would have obtained some good arable land,
for an outlying unprofitable wood that produced nothing but fagots and
rabbits, with the blunt declaration that he, the heir-at-law, was fond
of rabbit-shooting, and that the wood would be convenient to him next
season if he came into the property by that time, which he very possibly
might. He disputed Sir Peter's right to make his customary fall of
timber, and had even threatened him with a bill in Chancery on that
subject. In short, this heir-at-law was exactly one of those persons
to spite whom a landed proprietor would, if single, marry at the age of
eighty in the hope of a family.
Nor was it only on account of his very natural wish to frustrate the
expectations of this unamiable relation that Sir Peter Chillingly
lamented the absence of the little stranger. Although belonging to that
class of country gentlemen to whom certain political reasoners deny the
intelligence vouchsafed to other members of the community, Sir Peter was
not without a considerable degree of book-learning and a great taste
for speculative philosophy. He sighed for a legitimate inheritor to the
stores of his erudition, and, being a very benevolent man, for a more
active and useful dispenser of those benefits to the human race which
philosophers confer by striking hard against each other; just as, how
full soever of sparks a flint may be, they might lurk concealed in the
flint till doomsday, if the flint were not hit by the steel. Sir Peter,
in short, longed for | 3,144.745475 |
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Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
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[Illustration: For a beginner that's the best schedule I ever saw.]
RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER
OR
THE MYSTERY OF THE PAY CAR
BY
ALLEN CHAPMAN
AUTHOR OF "RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE," "RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER,"
"RALPH ON THE ENGINE," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America
THE RAILROAD SERIES
By Allen Chapman
Cloth. 12mo. Illustrated
RALPH OF THE ROUNDHOUSE Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man
RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER Or, Clearing the Track
RALPH ON THE ENGINE Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail
RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS Or, The Trials and Triumphs of
a Young Engineer
RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER Or, The Mystery of the Pay Car
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York
Copyright, 1911 by GROSSET & DUNLAP
Ralph, the Train Dispatcher
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--THE OVERLAND EXPRESS
CHAPTER II--THE WRECK
CHAPTER III--TROUBLE BREWING
CHAPTER IV--THE WIRE TAPPERS
CHAPTER V--IKE SLUMP
CHAPTER VI--IN THE TUNNEL
CHAPTER VII--DANGER SIGNALS
CHAPTER VIII--THE OLD SWITCH SHANTY
CHAPTER IX--A SUSPICIOUS DISCOVERY
CHAPTER X--THE TRAIN DISPATCHER
CHAPTER XI--MAKING A SCHEDULE
CHAPTER XII--AT THE RELAY STATION
CHAPTER XIII--"HOLD THE LIMITED MAIL!"
CHAPTER XIV--OLD 93
CHAPTER XV--CHASING A RUNAWAY
CHAPTER XVI--THE WRECK
| 3,144.754103 |
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Produced by Steven Gibbs, Stephen Ellison and the PG Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE
Letters
OF
LORD NELSON
TO
LADY HAMILTON;
WITH A
SUPPLEMENT
OF
_INTERESTING LETTERS_,
BY
Distinguished Characters.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
* * * * *
London:
Printed by Macdonald and Son, Smithfield,
FOR THOMAS LOVEWELL & CO. STAINES HOUSE,
BARBICAN;
AND SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS.
1814.
ADVERTISEMENT.
In presenting to the Public the Letters of LORD NELSON to LADY
HAMILTON, something may justly be expected elucidatory of them.
Their mutual attachment is so generally known, that for the Editors
to have given notes, however desirable and explanatory, might not,
perhaps, have been deemed perfectly decorous.
They now stand on their own real merits. Some parts (though not very
numerous) have been suppressed, from the most honourable _feelings to
individuals_, as they would certainly have given pain.
That portion of Letters now offered to the BRITISH NATION, written
by the first of her _Naval Commanders_, will shew his most private
sentiments of _men_ and _measures_, of _countries_ and their _rulers_.
It is the duty of the Editors to state, that every letter has
been most accurately transcribed, and faithfully compared with the
_originals in their possession_.
Should our IMMORTAL HERO have expressed an erroneous opinion of some
individuals and of things, let us ever remember, they were written
(_often under the feelings of sickness and of disappointment_) by
him who so repeatedly fought, and almost as frequently bled, for _our
country_--for his "DEAR ENGLAND;" and let us never forget, that to him
we owe more than to any man for our existence as a great and powerful
Nation.
His country has truly honoured him; and it is not presumptuous in the
Editors to affirm, that his deeds will be remembered, not _only in
name_, but in _their consequences_, by our remotest posterity.
Were we to dedicate them, unto whom should we?--To the BRITISH NAVY;
as the genuine sentiments of a _true seaman_--the _first_ even of
their own _Heroes_; for NELSON could forego all private feelings, _all
selfish motives_, for that which will ever be the first object of a
truly great and brave man--the _glory and happiness of his country_.
Our task, which has, from various causes, been attended with more
difficulties than could be imagined, is thus far accomplished; and we
have the pleasure to inform the public, that a very large collection
of LORD NELSON'S _most important public and private correspondence_,
&c. with the most distinguished characters (_at home and abroad_) is
now in preparation for the press. Many of the documents will certainly
throw a light on political transactions at present _very imperfectly
understood_; and those which we intend to present to the world, we
doubt not, will be found more than usually interesting.
CONTENTS.
* * * * *
VOL. I.
* * * * *
LETTERS FROM LORD NELSON TO LADY HAMILTON.
LETTER I. Page 3
II. 7
III. 9
IV. 11
V. 13
VI. 15
VII. 18
VIII. 20
IX. 23
X. 28
XI. 32
XII. 34
XIII. 39
XIV. 44
XV. 48
XVI. 53
XVII. 58
XVIII. 60
XIX. 65
XX. 69
XXI. 74
XXII. 77
XXIII. 82
XXIV. 84
XXV. 88
XXVI. 89
XXVII. 91
XXVIII. 96
XXIX. 101
XXX. 104
XXXI. 108
XXXII. 113
XXXIII. 124
XXXIV. 130
XXXV. 133
XXXVI. 135
XXXVII. 147
XXXVIII. 152
XXXIX. 155
SUPPLEMENT.
_Letters from Lord Nelson to Mrs. Thomson_.
LETTER I. Page 173
II. 175
_Letters from Lady Hamilton to Lord Nelson_.
LETTER I. Page 181
II. 185
_Letters from the Reverend Edmund Nelson, (Lord
Nelson's Father) to Lady Hamilton_.
LETTER I. Page 189
II. 191
_Letters from the Reverend Dr. Nelson, now Earl
Nelson, to Lady Hamilton_.
LETTER I. 195
II. 199
III. 202
IV. 206
V. 210
VI. 213
_Letters from the Earl of St. Vincent to Lady Hamilton._
LETTER I. Page 217
II. 219
III. 222
IV. 225
V. 227
_Letters from Sir Alexander John Ball to Lady
Hamilton._
LETTER I. Page 233
II. 236
_Letters from the Earl of Bristol, Bishop of Derry
in Ireland, to Lady Hamilton_.
LETTER I. Page 241
II. 243
III. 245
IV. 248
V. 249
VI. 250
VII. 252
VIII. 253
IX. 255
X. 257
_Letter from the Honourable Charles Greville, Nephew
of Sir William Hamilton, to Lady Hamilton_.
Page 265
_Letters from Lady Hamilton to the Honourable
Charles Greville_.
LETTER I. Page 269
II. 273
THE
Letters
OF
LORD NELSON
TO
LADY HAMILTON.
THE Letters OF LORD NELSON TO LADY HAMILTON.
LETTER I.
Vanguard, off Malta,
Oct. 24, 1798.
MY DEAR MADAM,
After a long passage, we are arrived; and it is as I suspected--the
ministers at Naples know nothing of the situation of the island. Not
a house or bastion of the town is in possession of the islanders; and
the Marquis de Niza tells me, they want arms, victuals, and support.
He does not know, that any Neapolitan officers are in the island;
perhaps, although I have their names, none are arrived; and it is very
certain, by the Marquis's account, that no supplies have been sent by
the governors of Syracuse or Messina.
However, I shall and will know every thing as soon as the Marquis is
gone, which will be to-morrow morning. He says, he is very anxious to
serve under my command; and, by his changing his ship, it appears
as if he was so: however, I understand the trim of our English ships
better.
Ball will have the management of the blockade after my departure; as,
it seems, the Court of Naples think my presence may be necessary, and
useful, in the beginning of November.
I hope it will prove so; but, I feel, my duty lays at present in the
East; for, until I know the shipping in Egypt are destroyed, I shall
never consider the French army as completely sure of never returning
to Europe.
However, all my views are to serve and save the Two Sicilies; and
to do that which their Majesties may wish me, even against my own
opinion, when I come to Naples, and that country is at war. I shall
wish to have a meeting with General Acton on this subject.
You will, I am sure, do me justice with the Queen; for, I declare to
God, my whole study is, how to best meet her approbation.
May God bless you and Sir William! and ever believe me, with the most
affectionate regard, your obliged and faithful friend,
HORATIO NELSON.
I may possibly, but that is not certain, send in the inclosed letter.
Shew it to Sir William. This must depend on what I hear _and see_; for
I believe scarcely any thing I hear.
Once more, God bless you!
LETTER II.
[May 12, 1799.]
MY DEAR LADY HAMILTON,
Accept my sincere thanks for your kind letter. Nobody writes so
well: therefore, pray, say not you write ill; for, if you do, I will
say--what your goodness sometimes told me--"You l--e!" I can read, and
perfectly understand, every word you write.
We drank your and Sir William's health. Troubridge, Louis, Hallowell,
and the new Portuguese Captain, dined here. I shall soon be at
Palermo; for this business must very soon be settled.
No one, believe me, is more sensible of your regard, than your obliged
and grateful
NELSON.
I am pleased with little Mary; kiss her for me. I thank all the house
for their regard. God bless you all!
I shall send on shore, if fine, to-morrow; for the feluccas are going
to leave us, and I am sea-sick.
I have got the piece of wood for the tea-chest; it shall soon be sent.
Pray, present my humble duty and gratitude to the Queen, for all
her marks of regard; and assure her, it is not thrown away on an
ungrateful soil.
LETTER III.
Vanguard, May 19, 1799,
Eight o'Clock. Calm.
MY DEAR LADY HAMILTON,
Lieutenant Swiney coming on board, enables me to send some blank
passports for vessels going to Procida with corn, &c. and also one for
the courier boat.
To tell you, how dreary and uncomfortable the Vanguard appears, is
only telling you, what it is to go from the pleasantest society to a
solitary cell; or, from the dearest friends, to no friends. I am now
perfectly the _great man_--not a creature near me. From my heart, I
| 3,144.872083 |
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Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed
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THE BLIND BROTHER.
SUNSHINE LIBRARY.
=Aunt Hannah and Seth.= By James Otis.
=Blind Brother | 3,145.245508 |
2023-11-16 19:09:29.3263620 | 1,664 | 7 |
Produced by KD Weeks, David Edwards and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
book was produced from scanned images of public domain
material from the Google Books project.)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Bold and italic characters, which appear only in the advertisements, are
delimited with the ‘_’ and ‘=’ characters respectively, as ‘_italic_’ and
‘=bold=.’
The few minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected.
Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details
regarding the handling of these issues.
POPULAR JUVENILE BOOKS,
BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
----------
_RAGGED DICK SERIES._
_Complete in Six Volumes._
I. RAGGED DICK; or, Street Life in New York.
II. FAME AND FORTUNE; or, The Progress of Richard
Hunter.
III. MARK, THE MATCH BOY.
IV. ROUGH AND READY; or, Life Among New York Newsboys.
V. BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; or, Among the Wharves.
VI. RUFUS AND ROSE; or, The Fortunes of Rough and
Ready.
=_Price, $1.25 per volume._=
----------
_CAMPAIGN SERIES._
_Complete in Three Volumes._
I. FRANK’S CAMPAIGN.
II. PAUL PRESCOTT’S CHARGE.
III. CHARLIE CODMAN’S CRUISE.
=_Price, $1.25 per volume._=
----------
_LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES._
_To be completed in Six Volumes._
I. LUCK AND PLUCK; or, John Oakley’s Inheritance.
II. SINK OR SWIM; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve.
III. STRONG AND STEADY; or, Paddle your own Canoe. (In
October, 1871.)
OTHERS IN PREPARATION.
=_Price, $1.50 per volume._=
----------
_TATTERED TOM SERIES._
_To be completed in Six Volumes._
I. TATTERED TOM; or, The story of a Street Arab.
II. PAUL, THE PEDDLER; or, The Adventures of a Young
Street Merchant. (In November, 1871.)
OTHERS IN PREPARATION.
=_Price, $1.25 per volume._=
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TATTERED TOM SERIES.
BY
HORATIO ALGER JR.
[Illustration]
TATTERED TOM.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TATTERED TOM;
OR,
THE STORY OF A STREET ARAB.
BY
HORATIO ALGER, JR.,
AUTHOR OF “RAGGED DICK SERIES,” “LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES,”
“CAMPAIGN SERIES.”
----------
LORING, Publisher,
COR. BROMFIELD AND WASHINGTON STREETS,
BOSTON.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
A. K. LORING,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Rockwell & Churchill, Printers and Stereotypers,
122 Washington Street, Boston.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=To=
=AMOS AND O. AUGUSTA CHENEY,=
=This Volume=
IS DEDICATED
BY THEIR AFFECTIONATE BROTHER.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
----------
When, three years since, the author published “Ragged Dick,” he was far
from anticipating the flattering welcome it would receive, or the degree
of interest which would be excited by his pictures of street life in New
York. The six volumes which comprised his original design are completed,
but the subject is not exhausted. There are yet other phases of street
life to be described, and other classes of street Arabs, whose fortunes
deserve to be chronicled.
“Tattered Tom” is therefore presented to the public as the initial
volume of a new series of six stories, which may be regarded as a
continuation of the “Ragged Dick Series.” Some surprise may be felt at
the discovery that Tom is a girl; but I beg to assure my readers that
she is not one of the conventional kind. Though not without her good
points, she will be found to differ very widely in tastes and manners
from the young ladies of twelve usually to be met in society. I venture
to hope that she will become a favorite in spite of her numerous faults,
and that no less interest will be felt in her fortunes than in those of
the heroes of earlier volumes.
NEW YORK, April, 1871.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TATTERED TOM;
OR,
THE ADVENTURES OF A STREET ARAB.
-------
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCES TATTERED TOM.
Mr. Frederic Pelham, a young gentleman very daintily dressed, with
exquisitely fitting kids and highly polished boots, stood at the corner
of Broadway and Chambers Streets, surveying with some dismay the dirty
crossing, and speculating as to his chances of getting over without
marring the polish of his boots.
He started at length, and had taken two steps, when a dirty hand was
thrust out, and he was saluted by the request, “Gi’ me a penny, sir?”
“Out of my way, you bundle of rags!” he answered.
“You’re another!” was the prompt reply.
Frederic Pelham stared at the creature who had dared to imply that he—a
leader of fashion—was a bundle of rags.
The street-sweeper was apparently about twelve years of age. It was not
quite easy to determine whether it was a boy or girl. The head was
surmounted by a boy’s cap, the hair was cut short, it wore a boy’s
jacket, but underneath was a girl’s dress. Jacket and dress were both in
a state of extreme raggedness. The child’s face was very dark and, as
might be expected, dirty; but it was redeemed by a pair of brilliant
black eyes, which were fixed upon the young exquisite in an expression
half-humorous, half-defiant, as the owner promptly retorted, “You’re
another!”
“Clear out, you little nuisance!” said the dandy, stopping short from
necessity, for the little sweep had planted herself directly in his
path; and to step out on either side would have soiled his boots
irretrievably.
“Gi’ me a penny, then?”
“I’ll hand you to the police, you little wretch!”
“I aint done nothin’. Gi’ me a penny?”
Mr. Pelham, provoked, raised his cane threateningly.
But Tom (for, in spite of her being a girl, this was the name by which
she was universally known; indeed she scarcely knew any other) was wary.
She dodged the blow, and by an adroit sweep of her broom managed to
scatter some mud on Mr. Pelham’s boots.
“You little brat, you’ve muddied my boots!” he exclaimed, with vexation.
“Then why did you go for to strike me?” said Tom, defiantly.
He did not stop to answer, but hurried across the street. His pace was
accelerated by an approaching vehicle, and the instinct of
self-preservation, more powerful than even the dictates of fashion,
compelled him to make a détour | 3,145.346402 |
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Produced by David Widger
FROMONT AND RISLER
By ALPHONSE DAUDET
With a Preface by LECONTE DE LISLE, of the French Academy
ALPHONSE DAUDET
Nominally Daudet, with the Goncourts and Zola, formed a trio
representing Naturalism in fiction. He adopted the watchwords of that
school, and by private friendship, no less than by a common profession
of faith, was one of them. But the students of the future, while
recognizing an obvious affinity between the other two, may be puzzled to
find Daudet's name conjoined with theirs.
Decidedly, Daudet belonged to the Realistic School. But, above all, he
was an impressionist. All that can be observed--the individual picture,
scene, character--Daudet will render with wonderful accuracy, and all
his novels, especially those written after 1870, show an increasing
firmness of touch, limpidity of style, and wise simplicity in the use of
the sources of pathetic emotion, such as befit the cautious Naturalist.
Daudet wrote stories, but he had to be listened to. Feverish as his
method of writing was--true to his Southern character he took endless
pains to write well, revising every manuscript three times over from
beginning to end. He wrote from the very midst of the human comedy; and
it is from this that he seems at times to have caught the bodily warmth
and the taste of the tears and the very ring of the laughter of men and
women. In the earlier novels, perhaps, the transitions from episode to
episode or from scene to scene are often abrupt, suggesting the manner
of the Goncourts. But to Zola he forms an instructive contrast, of the
same school, but not of the same family. Zola is methodical, Daudet
spontaneous. Zola works with documents, Daudet from the living fact.
Zola is objective, Daudet with equal scope and fearlessness shows more
personal feeling and hence more delicacy. And in style also Zola is
vast, architectural; Daudet slight, rapid, subtle, lively, suggestive.
And finally, in their philosophy of life, Zola may inspire a hate of
vice and wrong, but Daudet wins a love for what is good and true.
Alphonse Daudet was born in Nimes, Provence, May 13, 1840. His father
had been a well-to-do silk manufacturer, but, while Alphonse was still a
child, lost his property. Poverty compelled the son to seek the wretched
post of usher (pion) in a school at Alais. In November, 1857, he settled
in Paris and joined his almost equally penniless brother Ernest. The
autobiography, 'Le Petit Chose' (1868), gives graphic details about this
period. His first years of literary life were those of an industrious
Bohemian, with poetry for consolation and newspaper work for bread.
He had secured a secretaryship with the Duc de Morny, President of the
Corps Legislatif, and had won recognition for his short stories in the
'Figaro', when failing health compelled him to go to Algiers. Returning,
he married toward that period a lady (Julia Allard, born 1847), whose
literary talent comprehended, supplemented, and aided his own. After
the death of the Duc de Morny (1865) he consecrated himself entirely to
literature and published 'Lettres de mon Moulin' (1868), which also made
his name favorably known. He now turned from fiction to the drama,
and it was not until after 1870 that he became fully conscious of his
vocation as a novelist, perhaps through the trials of the siege of Paris
and the humiliation of his country, which deepened his nature without
souring it. Daudet's genial satire, 'Tartarin de Tarascon', appeared
in 1872; but with the Parisian romance 'Fromont jeune et Risler aine',
crowned by the Academy (1874), he suddenly advanced into the foremost
rank of French novelists; it was his first great success, or, as he puts
it, "the dawn of his popularity."
How numberless editions of this book were printed, and rights of
translations sought from other countries, Daudet has told us with
natural pride. The book must be read to be appreciated. "Risler, a
self-made, honest man, raises himself socially into a society against
the corruptness of which he has no defence and from which he escapes
only by suicide. Sidonie Chebe is a peculiarly French type, a vain and
heartless woman; Delobelle, the actor, a delectable figure; the domestic
simplicity of Desiree Delobelle and her mother quite refreshing."
Success followed now after success. 'Jack (1876); Le Nabab (1877); Les
Rois en exil (1879); Numa Roumestan (1882); L'Evangeliste (1883); Sapho
(1884); Tartarin sur des Alces (1886); L'Immortel (1888); Port Tarascon
(1890); Rose et Ninette (1892); La petite Parvisse (1895); and Soutien
de Famille (1899)'; such is the long list of the great life-artist.
In Le Nabab we find obvious traces of Daudet's visits to Algiers and
Corsica-Mora is the Duc de Morny. Sapho is the most concentrated of his
novels, with never a divergence, never a break, in its development. And
of the theme--legitimate marriage contra common-law--what need be said
except that he handled it in a manner most acceptable to the aesthetic
and least offensive to the moral sense?
L'Immortel is a satire springing from personal reasons; L'Evangeliste
and Rose et Ninette--the latter on the divorce problem--may be classed
as clever novels; but had Daudet never written more than 'Fromont et
Risler', 'Tartarin sur les Alces', and 'Port Tarascon', these would keep
him in lasting remembrance.
We must not omit to mention also many 'contes' and his 'Trente ans de
Paris (A travers ma vie et mes livres), Souvenirs d'un Homme de lettres
(1888), and Notes sur la Vie (1899)'.
Alphonse Daudet died in Paris, December 16, 1897
LECONTE DE LISLE
de l'Academie Franca | 3,145.381288 |
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THE CIVILIZATION OF CHINA
by Herbert A. Giles
Professor of Chinese in the University of Cambridge,
And sometime H.B.M. Consul at Ningpo
PREFACE
The aim of this work is to suggest a rough outline of Chinese
civilization from the earliest times down to the present period of rapid
and startling transition.
It has been written, primarily, for readers who know little or nothing
of China, in the hope that it may succeed in alluring them to a wider
and more methodical survey.
H.A.G.
Cambridge, May 12, 1911.
THE CIVILIZATION OF CHINA
CHAPTER I--THE FEUDAL AGE
It is a very common thing now-a-days to meet people who are going to
"China," which can be reached by the Siberian railway in fourteen or
fifteen days. This brings us at once to the question--What is meant by
the term China?
Taken in its widest sense, the term includes Mongolia, Manchuria,
Eastern Turkestan, Tibet, and the Eighteen Provinces, the whole being
equivalent to an area of some five million square miles, that is,
considerably more than twice the size of the United States of America.
But for a study of manners and customs and modes of thought of the
Chinese people, we must confine ourselves to that portion of the whole
which is known to the Chinese as the "Eighteen Provinces," and to us as
China Proper. This portion of the empire occupies not quite two-fifths
of the whole, covering an area of somewhat more than a million and a
half square miles. Its chief landmarks may be roughly stated as Peking,
the capital, in the north; Canton, the great commercial centre, in the
south; Shanghai, on the east; and the Tibetan frontier on the west.
Any one who will take the trouble to look up these four points on a
map, representing as they do central points on the four sides of a rough
square, will soon realize the absurdity of asking a returning traveller
the very much asked question, How do you like China? Fancy asking a
Chinaman, who had spent a year or two in England, how he liked Europe!
Peking, for instance, stands on the same parallel of latitude as Madrid;
whereas Canton coincides similarly with Calcutta. Within the square
indicated by the four points enumerated above will be found variations
of climate, flowers, fruit, vegetables and animals--not to mention human
beings--distributed in very much the same way as in Europe. The climate
of Peking is exceedingly dry and bracing; no rain, and hardly any snow,
falling between October and April. The really hot weather lasts only for
six or eight weeks, about July and August--and even then the nights are
always cool; while for six or eight weeks between December and February
there may be a couple of feet of ice on the river. Canton, on the other
hand, has a tropical climate, with a long damp enervating summer and a
short bleak winter. The old story runs that snow has only been seen
once in Canton, and then it was thought by the people to be falling
cotton-wool.
The northern provinces are remarkable for vast level plains, dotted
with villages, the houses of which are built of mud. In the southern
provinces will be found long stretches of mountain scenery, vying in
loveliness with anything to be seen elsewhere. Monasteries are built
high up on the hills, often on almost inaccessible crags; and there
the well-to-do Chinaman is wont to escape from the fierce heat of the
southern summer. On one particular mountain near Canton, there are
said to be no fewer than one hundred of such monasteries, all of which
reserve apartments for guests, and are glad to be able to add to their
funds by so doing.
In the north of China, Mongolian ponies, splendid mules, and donkeys are
seen in large quantities; also the two-humped camel, which carries heavy
loads across the plains of Mongolia. In the south, until the advent of
the railway, travellers had to choose between the sedan-chair carried
on the shoulders of stalwart coolies, or the slower but more comfortable
house-boat. Before steamers began to ply on the coast, a candidate for
the doctor's degree at the great triennial examination would take three
months to travel from Canton to Peking. Urgent dispatches, however, were
often forwarded by relays of riders at the rate of two hundred miles a
day.
The market in Peking is supplied, among other things, with excellent
mutton from a fat-tailed breed of sheep, chiefly for the largely
Mohammedan population; but the sheep will not live in southern China,
where the goat takes its place. The pig is found everywhere, and
represents beef in our market, the latter being extremely unpalatable to
the ordinary Chinaman, partly perhaps because Confucius forbade men to
slaughter the animal which draws the plough and contributes so much to
the welfare of mankind. The staple food, the "bread" of the people in
the Chinese Empire, is nominally rice; but this is too costly for the
peasant of northern China to import, and he falls back on millet as its
substitute. Apples, pears, grapes, melons, and walnuts grow abundantly
in the north; the southern fruits are the banana, the orange, the
pineapple, the mango, the pomelo, the lichee, and similar fruits of a
more tropical character.
Cold storage has been practised by the Chinese for centuries. Blocks of
ice are cut from the river for that purpose; and on a hot summer's day a
Peking coolie can obtain an iced drink at an almost infinitesimal cost.
Grapes are preserved from autumn until the following May and June by
the simple process of sticking the stalk of the bunch into a large hard
pear, and putting it away carefully in the ice-house. Even at Ningpo,
close to our central point on the eastern coast of China, thin layers
of ice are collected from pools and ditches, and successfully stored for
use in the following summer.
The inhabitants of the coast provinces are distinguished from the
dwellers in the north and in the far interior by a marked alertness of
mind and general temperament. The Chinese themselves declare that virtue
is associated with mountains, wisdom with water, cynically implying that
no one is both virtuous and wise. Between the inhabitants of the
various provinces there is little love lost. Northerners fear and
hate southerners, and the latter hold the former in infinite scorn and
contempt. Thus, when in 1860 the Franco-British force made for Peking,
it was easy enough to secure the services of any number of Cantonese,
who remained as faithful as though the attack had been directed against
some third nationality.
The population of China has never been exactly ascertained. It has been
variously estimated by foreign travellers, Sacharoff, in 1842, placing
the figure at over four hundred millions. The latest census, taken in
1902, is said to yield a total of four hundred and ten millions. Perhaps
three hundred millions would be a juster estimate; even that would
absorb no less than one-fifth of the human race. From this total it is
easy to calculate that if the Chinese people were to walk past a given
point in single file, the procession would never end; long before the
last of the three hundred millions had passed by, a new generation would
have sprung up to continue the neverending line. The census, however, is
a very old institution with the Chinese; and we learn that in A.D. 156
the total population of the China of those days was returned as a little
over fifty millions. In more modern times, the process of taking the
census consists in serving out house-tickets to the head of every
household, who is responsible for a proper return of all the inmates;
but as there is no fixed day for which these tickets are returnable, the
results are approximate rather than exact.
Again, it is not uncommon to hear people talking of the Chinese language
as if it were a single tongue spoken all over China after a more or less
uniform standard. But the fact is that the colloquial is broken up into
at least eight dialects, each so strongly marked as to constitute eight
languages as different to the ear, one from another, as English, Dutch
and German, or French, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese. A Shanghai man,
for instance, is unintelligible to a Cantonese, and so on. All officials
are obliged, and all of the better educated merchants and others
endeavour, if only for business purposes, to learn something of the
dialect spoken at the court of Peking; and this is what is popularly
known as "Mandarin." The written language remains the same for the whole
empire; which merely means that ideas set down on paper after a uniform
system are spoken with different sounds, just as the Arabic numerals are
written uniformly in England, France and Germany, but are pronounced in
a totally different manner.
The only difficulty of the spoken language, of no matter what dialect,
lies in the "tones," which simply means the different intonations which
may be given to one and the same sound, thus producing so many entirely
different meanings. But for these tones, the colloquial of China would
be absurdly easy, inasmuch as there is no such thing as grammar, in the
sense of gender, number, case, mood, tense, or any of the variations we
understand by that term. Many amusing examples are current of blunders
committed by faulty speakers, such as that of the student who told his
servant to bring him a goose, when what he really wanted was some salt,
both goose and salt having the same sound, _yen_, but quite different
intonations. The following specimen has the advantage of being true.
A British official reported to the Foreign Office that the people of
Tientsin were in the habit of shouting after foreigners, "Mao-tsu,
mao-tsu" (pronounced _mowdza_, _ow_ as in _how_), from which he gathered
that they were much struck by the head-gear of the barbarian. Now, it is
a fact that _mao-tsu_, uttered with a certain intonation, means a hat;
but with another intonation, it means "hairy one," and the latter,
referring to the big beards of foreigners, was the meaning intended to
be conveyed. This epithet is still to be heard, and is often preceded by
the adjective "red."
The written characters, known to have been in use for the past three
thousand years, were originally rude pictures, as of men, birds, horses,
dogs, houses, the numerals (one, two, three, four), etc., etc., and
it is still possible to trace in the modified modern forms of these
characters more or less striking resemblances to the objects intended.
The next step was to put two or more characters together, to express by
their combination an abstract idea, as, for instance, a _hand_ holding
a _rod_ = father; but of course this simple process did not carry the
Chinese very far, and they soon managed to hit on a joint picture and
phonetic system, which enabled them to multiply characters indefinitely,
new compounds being formed for use as required. It is thus that new
characters can still be produced, if necessary, to express novel objects
or ideas. The usual plan, however, is to combine existing terms in
such a way as to suggest what is wanted. For instance, in preference
to inventing a separate character for the piece of ordnance known as
a "mortar," the Chinese, with an eye to its peculiar pose, gave it the
appropriate name of a "frog gun."
Again, just as the natives and the dialects of the various parts of
China differ one from another, although fundamentally the same people
and the same language, so do the manners and customs differ to such an
extent that habits of life and ceremonial regulations which prevail in
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Produced by Doug Levy
LOVE AND LIFE
An Old Story in Eighteenth Century Costume
By Charlotte M. Yonge
Transcriber's note: There are numerous examples throughout this text
of words appearing in alternate spellings: madame/madam, practise/
practice, Ladyship/ladyship, &c. We can only wonder what the publisher
had in mind. I have left them unchanged.--D.L.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
The first edition of this tale was put forth without explaining the
old fable on which it was founded--a fable recurring again and again in
fairy myths, though not traceable in the classic world till a very late
period, when it appeared among the tales of Apuleius, of the province
of Africa, sometimes called the earliest novelist. There are, however,
fragments of the same story in the popular tales of all countries, so
that it is probable that Apuleius availed himself of an early form of
one of these. They are to be found from India to Scandinavia, adapted to
the manners and fancy of every country in turn, _Beauty and the Beast_
and the _Black Bull of Norroway_ are the most familiar forms of the
tale, and it seemed to me one of those legends of such universal
property that it was quite fair to put it into 18th century English
costume.
Some have seen in it a remnant of the custom of some barbarous tribes,
that the wife should not behold her husband for a year after marriage,
and to this the Indian versions lend themselves; but Apuleius himself
either found it, or adapted it to the idea of the Soul (the Life)
awakened by Love, grasping too soon and impatiently, then losing it,
and, unable to rest, struggling on through severe toils and labours till
her hopes are crowned even at the gates of death. Psyche, the soul or
life, whose emblem is the butterfly, thus even in heathen philosophy
strained towards the higher Love, just glimpsed at for a while.
Christians gave a higher meaning to the fable, and saw in it the Soul,
or the Church, to whom her Bridegroom has been for a while made known,
striving after Him through many trials, to be made one with Him after
passing through Death. The Spanish poet Calderon made it the theme of
two sacred dramas, in which the lesson of Faith, not Sight, was taught,
with special reference to the Holy Eucharist.
English poetry has, however, only taken up its simple classical aspect.
In the early part of the century, Mrs. Tighe wrote a poem in Spenserian
stanza, called _Psyche_, which was much admired at the time; and Mr.
Morris has more lately sung the story in his _Earthly Paradise_. This
must be my excuse for supposing the outline of the tale to be familiar
to most readers.
The fable is briefly thus:--
Venus was jealous of the beauty of a maiden named Psyche, the youngest
of three daughters of a king. She sent misery on the land and family,
and caused an oracle to declare that the only remedy was to deck his
youngest daughter as a bride, and leave her in a lonely place to become
the prey of a monster. Cupid was commissioned by his mother to destroy
her. He is here represented not as a child, but as a youth, who on
seeing Psyche's charms, became enamoured of her, and resolved to save
her from his mother and make her his own. He therefore caused Zephyr to
transport her to a palace where everything delightful and valuable was
at her service, feasts spread, music playing, all her wishes fulfilled,
but all by invisible hands. At night in the dark, she was conscious of
a presence who called himself her husband, showed the fondest affection
for her, and promised her all sorts of glory and bliss, if she would be
patient and obedient for a time.
This lasted till yearnings awoke to see her family. She obtained consent
with much difficulty and many warnings. Then the splendour in which she
lived excited the jealousy of her sisters, and they persuaded her that
her visitor was really the monster who would deceive her and devour her.
They thus induced her to accept a lamp with which to gaze on him when
asleep. She obeyed them, then beholding the exquisite beauty of the
sleeping god of love, she hung over him in rapture till a drop of the
hot oil fell on his shoulder and awoke him. He sprang up, sorrowfully
reproached her with having ruined herself and him, and flew away,
letting her fall as she clung to him.
The palace was broken up, the wrath of Venus pursued her; Ceres and all
the other deities chased her from their temples; even when she would
have drowned herself, the river god took her in his arms, and laid her
on the bank. Only Pan had pity on her, and counselled her to submit to
Venus, and do her bidding implicitly as the only hope of regaining her
lost husband.
Venus spurned her at first, and then made her a slave, setting her first
to sort a huge heap of every kind of grain in a single day. The ants,
secretly commanded by Cupid, did this for her. Next, she was to get
a lock of golden wool from a ram feeding in a valley closed in by
inaccessible rocks; but this was procured for her by an eagle; and
lastly, Venus, declaring that her own beauty had been impaired by
attendance on her injured son, commanded Psyche to visit the Infernal
Regions and obtain from Proserpine a closed box of cosmetic which was on
no account to be opened. Psyche thought death alone could bring her to
these realms, and was about to throw herself from a tower, when a voice
instructed her how to enter a cavern, and propitiate Cerberus with cakes
after the approved fashion.
She thus reached Proserpine's throne, and obtained the casket, but when
she had again reached the earth, she reflected that if Venus's beauty
were impaired by anxiety, her own must have suffered far more; and
the prohibition having of course been only intended to stimulate her
curiosity, she opened the casket, out of which came the baneful fumes of
Death! Just, however, as she fell down overpowered, her husband, who had
been shut up by Venus, came to the rescue, and finding himself unable
to restore her, cried aloud to Jupiter, who heard his prayer, reanimated
Psyche, and gave her a place among the gods.
CHAPTERS.
I. A SYLLABUB PARTY.
II. THE HOUSE OF DELAVIE.
III. AMONG THE COWSLIPS.
IV. MY LADY'S MISSIVE.
V. THE SUMMONS.
VI. DISAPPOINTED LOVE.
VII. ALL ALONE.
VIII. THE ENCHANTED CASTLE.
IX. THE TRIAD.
X. THE DARK CHAMBER.
XI. A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE.
XII. THE SHAFTS OF PHOEBE.
XIII. THE FLUTTER OF HIS WINGS.
XIV. THE CANON OF WINDSOR.
XV. THE QUEEN OF BEAUTY.
XVI. AUGURIES.
XVII. THE VICTIM DEMANDED.
XVIII. THE PROPOSAL.
XIX. WOOING IN THE DARK.
XX. THE MUFFLED BRIDEGROOM.
XXI. THE SISTER'S MEETING
XXII. A FATAL SPARK.
XXIII. WRATH AND DESOLATION.
XXIV. THE WANDERER.
XXV. VANISHED.
XXVI. THE TRACES.
XXVII. CYTHEREA'S BOWER.
XXVIII. THE ROUT.
XXIX. A BLACK BLONDEL.
XXX. THE FIRST TASK.
XXXI. THE SECOND TASK.
XXXII. LIONS.
XXXIII. THE COSMETIC.
XXXIV. DOWN THE RIVER.
XXXV. THE RETURN.
XXXVI. WAKING.
XXXVII. MAKING THE BEST OF IT.
LOVE AND LIFE.
CHAPTER I. A SYLLABUB PARTY.
Oft had I shadowed such a group
Of beauties that were born
In teacup times of hood and hoop,
And when the patch was worn;
And legs and arms with love-knots gay.
About me leaped and laughed
The modish Cupid of the day,
And shrilled his tinselled shaft.--Tennyson.
If times differ, human nature and national character vary but little;
and thus, in looking back on former times, we are by turns startled
by what is curiously like, and curiously unlike, our own sayings and
doings.
The feelings of a retired officer of the nineteenth century expecting
the return of his daughters from the first gaiety of the youngest
darling, are probably not dissimilar to those of Major Delavie, in the
earlier half of the seventeen hundreds, as he sat in the deep bay window
of his bed-room; though he wore a green velvet nightcap; and his whole
provision of mental food consisted of half a dozen worn numbers of the
_Tatler_, and a _Gazette_ a fortnight old. The chair on which he sat was
elbowed, and made easy with cushions and pillows, but that on which
his lame foot rested was stiff and angular. The cushion was exquisitely
worked in chain-stich, as were the quilt and curtains of the great
four-post bed, and the only carpeting consisted of three or four narrow
strips of wool-work. The walls were plain plaster, white-washed, and
wholly undecorated, except that the mantelpiece was carved with the
hideous caryatides of the early Stewart days, and over it were suspended
a long cavalry sabre, and the accompanying spurs and pistols; above them
the miniature of an exquisitely lovely woman, with a white rose in her
hair and a white favour on her breast.
The window was a deep one projecting far into the narrow garden below,
for in truth the place was one of those old manor houses which their
wealthy owners were fast deserting in favour of new specimens of
classical architecture as understood by Louis XIV., and the room in
which the Major sat was one of the few kept in habitable repair. The
garden was rich with white pinks, peonies, lilies of the valley, and
early roses, and there was a flagged path down the centre, between the
front door and a wicket-gate into a long lane bordered with hawthorn
hedges, the blossoms beginning to blush with the advance of the season.
Beyond, rose dimly the spires and towers of a cathedral town, one of
those county capitals to which the provincial magnates were wont to
resort during the winter, keeping a mansion there for the purpose, and
providing entertainment for the gentry of the place and neighbourhood.
Twilight was setting in when the Major began to catch glimpses of the
laced hats of coachman and footmen over the hedges, a lumbering made
itself heard, and by and by the vehicle halted at the gate. Such
a coach! It was only the second best, and the glories of its
landscape--painted sides were somewhat dimmed, the green and silver of
the fittings a little tarnished to a critical eye; yet it was a splendid
article, commodious and capacious, though ill-provided with air and
light. However, nobody cared for stuffiness, certainly not the three
young ladies, who, fan in hand, came tripping down the steps that
were unrolled for them. The eldest paused to administer a fee to their
entertainer's servants who had brought them home, and the coach rolled
on to dispose of the remainder of the freight.
The father waved greetings from one window, a rosy little audacious
figure in a night-dress peeped out furtively from another, and the
house-door was opened by a tall old soldier-servant, stiff as a ramrod,
with hair tightly tied and plastered up into a queue, and a blue and
brown livery which sat like a uniform.
"Well, young ladies," he said, "I hope you enjoyed yourselves."
"Vastly, thank you, Corporal Palmer. And how has it been with my father
in our absence?"
"Purely, Miss Harriet. He relished the Friar's chicken that Miss Delavie
left for him, and he amused himself for an hour with Master Eugene,
after which he did me the honour to play two plays at backgammon."
"I hope," said the eldest sister, coming up, "that the little rogue whom
I saw peeping from the window has not been troublesome."
"He has been as good as gold, madam. He played in master's room till
Nannerl called him to his bed, when he went at once, 'true to his
orders,' says the master. 'A fine soldier he will make,' says I to my
master."
Therewith the sisters mounted the uncarpeted but well-polished oak
stair, knocked at the father's door, and entered one by one, each
dropping her curtsey, and, though the eldest was five-and-twenty,
neither speaking nor sitting till they were greeted with a hearty,
"Come, my young maids, sit you down and tell your old father your gay
doings."
The eldest took the only unoccupied chair, while the other two placed
themselves on the window-seat, all bolt upright, with both little high
heels on the floor, in none of the easy attitudes of damsels of later
date, talking over a party. All three were complete gentlewomen in air
and manners, though Betty had high cheek-bones, a large nose, rough
complexion, and red hair, and her countenance was more loveable and
trustworthy than symmetrical. The dainty decorations of youth looked
grotesque upon her, and she was so well aware of the fact as to put on
no more than was absolutely essential to a lady of birth and breeding.
Harriet (pronounced Hawyot), the next in age, had a small well-set head,
a pretty neck, and fine dark eyes, but the small-pox had made havoc
of her bloom, and left its traces on cheek and brow. The wreck of her
beauty had given her a discontented, fretful expression, which rendered
her far less pleasing than honest, homely Betty, though she employed
all the devices of the toilette to conceal the ravages of the malady and
enhance her remaining advantages of shape and carriage.
There was an air of vexation about her as her father asked, "Well, how
many conquests has my little Aurelia made?" She could not but recollect
how triumphantly she had listened to the same inquiry after her own
first appearance, scarcely three short years ago. Yet she grudged
nothing to Aurelia, her junior by five years, who was for the first
time arrayed as a full-grown belle, in a pale blue, tight-sleeved,
long-waisted silk, open and looped up over a primrose skirt, embroidered
by her own hands with tiny blue butterflies hovering over harebells.
There were blue silk shoes, likewise home-made, with silver buckles, and
the long mittens and deep lace ruffles were of Betty's fabrication.
Even the dress itself had been cut by Harriet from old wedding hoards
of their mother's, and made up after the last mode imported by Madam
Churchill at the Deanery.
The only part of the equipment not of domestic handiwork was the
structure on the head. The Carminster hairdresser had been making his
rounds since daylight, taking his most distinguished customers last; and
as the Misses Delavie were not high on the roll, Harriet and Aurelia had
been under his hands at nine A.M. From that time till three, when the
coach called for them, they had sat captive on low stools under a tent
of table-cloth over tall chair-backs to keep the dust out of the frosted
edifice constructed out of their rich dark hair, of the peculiar tint
then called mouse-colour. Betty had refused to submit to this durance.
"What sort of dinner would be on my father's table-cloth if I were to
sit under one all day?" said she in answer to Harriet's representation
of the fitness of things. "La, my dear, what matters it what an old
scarecrow like me puts on?"
Old maidenhood set in much earlier in those days than at present; the
sisters acquiesced, and Betty had run about as usual all the morning in
her mob-cap, and chintz gown tucked through her pocket-holes, and only
at the last submitted her head to the manipulations of Corporal Palmer,
who daily powdered his master's wig.
Strange and unnatural as was the whitening of the hair, it was effective
in enhancing the beauty of Aurelia's dark arched brows, the soft
brilliance of her large velvety brown eyes, and the exquisite carnation
and white of her colouring. Her features were delicately chiselled, and
her face had that peculiar fresh, innocent, soft, untouched bloom and
undisturbed repose which form the special charm and glory of the first
dawn of womanhood. Her little head was well poised on a slender neck,
just now curving a little to one side with the fatigue of the hours
during which it had sustained her headgear. This consisted of a
tiny flat hat, fastened on by long pins, and adorned by a cluster of
campanulas like those on her dress, with a similar blue butterfly on an
invisible wire above them, the dainty handiwork of Harriet.
The inquiry about conquests was a matter of course after a young lady's
first party, but Aurelia looked too childish for it, and Betty made
haste to reply.
"Aurelia was a very good girl. No one could have curtsied or bridled
more prettily when we paid our respects to my Lady Herries and Mrs.
Churchill, and the Dean highly commended her dancing."
"You danced? Fine doings! I thought you were merely invited to look on
at the game at bowls. Who had the best of the match?"
"The first game was won by Canon Boltby, the second by the Dean," said
Betty; "but when they would have played the conqueror, Lady Herries
interfered and said the gentlemen had kept the field long enough, and
now it was our turn. So a cow was driven on the bowling-green, with a
bell round her neck and pink ribbons on her horns."
"A cow! What will they have next?"
"They say 'tis all the mode in London," interposed Harriet.
"Pray was the cow to instruct you in dancing?" continued the Major.
"No, sir," said Aurelia, whom he had addressed; "she was to be milked
into the bowl of syllabub."
This was received with a great "Ho! ho!" and a demand who was to act as
milker.
"That was the best of it," said Aurelia. "Soon came Miss Herries in
a straw hat, and the prettiest green petticoat under a white gown and
apron, as a dairy-maid, but the cow would not stand still, for all the
man who led her kept scolding her and saying 'Coop! coop!' No sooner had
Miss Herries seated herself on the stool than Moolly swerved away, and
it was a mercy that the fine china bowl escaped. Every one was laughing,
and poor Miss Herries was ready to cry, when forth steps my sister,
coaxes the cow, bids the man lend his apron, sits down on the stool, and
has the bowl frothing in a moment."
"I would not have done so for worlds," said Harriet; "I dreaded every
moment to be asked where Miss Delavie learnt to be a milk-maid."
"You were welcome to reply, in her own yard," said Betty. "You may thank
me for your syllabub."
"Which, after all, you forbade poor Aura to taste!"
"Assuredly. I was not going to have her turn sick on my hands. She may
think herself beholden to me for her dance with that fine young beau.
Who was he, Aura?"
"How now!" said the Major, in a tone of banter, while Harriet indulged
in a suppressed giggle. "You let Aura dance with a stranger! Where was
your circumspection, Mrs. Betty?" Aurelia to the roots of her
hair and faltered, "It was Lady Herries who presented him."
"Yes, the child is not to blame," said Betty; "I left her in charge
of Mrs. Churchill while I went to wash my hands after milking the cow,
which these fine folk seemed to suppose could be done without soiling a
finger."
"That's the way with Chloe and Phyllida in Arcadia," said her father.
"But not here," said Betty. "In the house, I was detained a little
while, for the housekeeper wanted me to explain my recipe for taking out
the grease spots."
"A little while, sister?" said Harriet. "It was through the dancing of
three minuets, and the country dance had long been begun."
"I was too busy to heed the time," said Betty, "for I obtained the
recipe for those delicious almond-cakes, and showed Mrs. Waldron the
Vienna mode of clearing coffee. When I came back the fiddles were
playing, and Aurelia going down the middle with a young gentleman in a
scarlet coat. Poor little Robert Rowe was too bashful to find a partner,
though he longed to dance; so I made another couple with him, and thus
missed further speech, save that as we took our leave, both Sir George
and the Dean complimented me, and said what there is no occasion to
repeat just now, sir, when I ought to be fetching your supper."
"Ha! Is it too flattering for little Aura?" asked her father. "Come,
never spare. She will hear worse than that in her day, I'll warrant."
"It was merely," said Betty, reluctantly, "that the Dean called her the
star of the evening, and declared that her dancing equalled her face."
"Well said of his reverence! And his honour the baronet, what said he?"
"He said, sir, that so comely and debonnaire a couple had not been seen
in these parts since you came home from Flanders and led off the assize
ball with Mistress Urania Delavie."
"There, Aura, 'tis my turn to blush!" cried the Major, comically hiding
his face behind Betty's fan. "But all this time you have never told me
who was this young spark."
"That I cannot tell, sir," returned Betty. "We were sent home in
the coach with Mistress Duckworth and her daughters, who talked so
incessantly that we could not open our lips. Who was he, Aura?"
"My Lady Herries only presented him as Sir Amyas, sister," replied
Aurelia.
"Sir Amyas!" cried her auditors, all together.
"Nothing more," said Aurelia. "Indeed she made as though he and I must
be acquainted, and I suppose that she took me for Harriet, but I knew
not how to explain."
"No doubt," said Harriet. "I was sick of the music and folly, and had
retired to the summerhouse with Peggy Duckworth, who had brought a sweet
sonnet of Mr. Ambrose Phillips, 'Defying Cupid.'"
Her father burst into a chuckling laugh, much to her mortification,
though she would not seem to understand it, and Betty took up the moral.
"Sir Amyas! Are you positive that you caught the name, child?"
"I thought so, sister," said Aurelia, with the insecurity produced by
such cross-questioning; "but I may have been mistaken, since, of course,
the true Sir Amyas Belamour would never be here without my father's
knowledge."
"Nor is there any other of the name," said her father, "except that
melancholic uncle of his who never leaves his dark chamber."
"Depend upon it," said Harriet, "Lady Herries said Sir Ambrose. No doubt
it was Sir Ambrose Watford."
"Nay, Harriet, I demur to that," said her father drolly. "I flatter
myself I was a more personable youth than to be likened to Watford with
his swollen nose. What like was your cavalier, Aura?"
"Indeed, sir, I cannot describe him. I was so much terrified lest he
should speak to me that I had much ado to mind my steps. I know he had
white gloves and diamond shoe-buckles, and that his feet moved by no
means like those of Sir Ambrose."
"Aura is a modest child, and does credit to her breeding," said Betty.
"Thus much I saw, that the young gentleman was tall and personable
enough to bear comparison even to you, sir, not more than nineteen or
twenty years of age, in a laced scarlet uniform, as I think, of the
Dragoon Guards, and with a little powder, but not enough to disguise
that his hair was entire gold."
"That all points to his being indeed young Belamour," said her father;
"age, military appearance, and all--I wonder what this portends!"
"What a disaster!" exclaimed Harriet, "that my sister and I should have
been out of the way, and only a chit like Aura be there to be presented
to him."
"If young ladies _will_ defy Cupid," began her father;--but at that
moment Corporal Palmer knocked at the door, bringing a basin of soup for
his master, and announcing "Supper is served, young ladies."
Each of the three bent her knee to receive her father's blessing and
kiss, then curtseying at the door, departed, Betty lingering behind her
two juniors to see her father taste his soup and to make sure that he
relished it.
CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF DELAVIE.
All his Paphian mother fear;
Empress! all thy sway revere!
EURIPEDES (Anstice).
The parlour where the supper was laid was oak panelled, but painted
white. Like a little island in the vast polished slippery floor lay a
square much-worn carpet, just big enough to accommodate a moderate-sized
table and the surrounding high-backed chairs. There was a tent-stitch
rug before the Dutch-tiled fireplace, and on the walls hung two framed
prints,--one representing the stately and graceful Duke of Marlborough;
the other, the small, dark, pinched, but fiery Prince Eugene. On the
spotless white cloth was spread a frugal meal of bread, butter, cheese,
and lettuce; a jug of milk, another of water, and a bottle of cowslip
wine; for the habits of the family were more than usually frugal and
abstemious.
Frugality and health alike obliged Major Delavie to observe a careful
regimen. He had served in all Marlborough's campaigns, and had
afterwards entered the Austrian army, and fought in the Turkish war,
until he had been disabled before Belgrade by a terrible wound, of which
he still felt the effects. Returning home with his wife, the daughter of
a Jacobite exile, he had become a kind of agent in managing the family
estate for his cousin the heiress, Lady Belamour, who allowed him
to live rent-free in this ruinous old Manor-house, the cradle of the
family.
This was all that Harriet and Aurelia knew. The latter had been born
at the Manor, and young girls, if not brought extremely forward, were
treated like children; but Elizabeth, the eldest of the family, who
could remember Vienna, was so much the companion and confidante of her
father, that she was more on the level of a mother than a sister to her
juniors.
"Then you think Aurelia's beau was really Sir Amyas Belamour," said
Harriet, as they sat down to supper.
"So it appears," said Betty, gravely.
"Do you think he will come hither, sister? I would give the world to see
him," continued Harriet.
"He said something of hoping for better acquaintance," softly put in
Aurelia.
"Oh, did he so?" cried Harriet. "For demure as you are, Miss Aura, I
fancy you looked a little above the diamond shoe-buckles!"
"Fie, Harriet!" exclaimed Betty; "I will not have the child tormented.
He ought to come and pay his respects to my father."
"Have you ever seen my Lady?" asked Aurelia.
"That have I, Miss Aurelia," interposed Corporal Palmer, "and a rare
piece of beauty she would be, if one could forget the saying 'handsome
is as handsome does.'"
"I never knew what she has done," said Aurelia.
"'Tis a long story," hastily said Betty, "too long to tell at table. I
must make haste to prepare the poultice for my father."
She quickly broke up the supper party, and the two younger sisters
repaired to their chamber, both conscious of having been repressed; the
one feeling injured, the other rebuked for forwardness and curiosity.
The three sisters shared one long low room with a large light closet
at each end. One of these was sacred to powder, the other was Betty's
private property. Harriet had a little white bed to herself, Betty and
Aurelia nightly climbed into a lofty and solemn structure curtained with
ancient figured damask. Each had her own toilette-table and a press for
her clothes, where she contrived to stow them in a wonderfully small
space.
Harriet and Aurelia had divested themselves of their finery before
Betty came in, and they assisted her operations, Harriet preferring a
complaint that she never would tell them anything.
"I have no objection to tell you at fitting times," said Betty, "but not
with Palmer putting in his word. You should have discretion, Harriet."
"The Dean's servants never speak when they are waiting at table," said
Harriet with a pout.
"But I'll warrant them to hear!" retorted Betty.
"And I had rather have our dear old honest corporal than a dozen of
those fine lackeys," said Aurelia. "But you will tell us the story like
a good sister, while we brush the powder out of our hair."
They put on powdering gowns, after releasing themselves from the armour
of their stays, and were at last at ease, each seated on a wooden chair
in the powdering closet, brush in hand, with a cloud of white dust
flying round, and the true colour of the hair beginning to appear.
"Then it is indeed true that My Lady is one of the greatest beauties of
Queen Caroline's Court, if not the greatest?" said Harriet.
"Truly she is," said Betty, "and though in full maturity, she preserves
the splendour of her prime."
"Tell us more particularly," said Aurelia; "can she be more lovely than
our dear mamma?"
"No, indeed! lovely was never the word for her, to my mind," said
Betty; "her face always seemed to me more like that of one of the marble
statues I remember at Vienna; perfect, but clear, cold, and hard. But
I am no judge, for I did not love her, and in a child, admiration
accompanies affection."
"What did Palmer mean by 'handsome is that handsome does'? Surely my
father never was ill-treated by Lady Belamour?"
"Let me explain," said the elder sister. "The ancient custom and
precedent of our family have always transmitted the estates to the male
heir. But when Charles II. granted the patent of nobility to the first
Baron Delavie, the barony was limited to the heirs male of his body, and
out grandfather was only his brother. The last Lord had three sons, and
one daughter, Urania, who alone survived him."
"I know all that from the monument," said Aurelia; "one was drowned
while bathing, one died of spotted fever, and one was killed at the
battle of Ramillies. How dreadful for the poor old father!"
"And there is no Lord Delavie now," said Harriet. "Why, since my Lady
could not have the title, did it not come to our papa?"
"Because his father was not in the patent," said Betty. "However, it
was thought that if he were married to Mistress Urania, there would be
a fresh creation in their favour. So as soon as the last campaign was
over, our father, who had always been a favourite at the great house,
was sent for from the army, and given to understand that he was to
conduct his courtship, with the cousin he had petted as a little child,
as speedily as was decorous. However, in winter quarters at Tournai he
had already pledged his faith to the daughter of a Scottish gentleman
in the Austrian service. This engagement was viewed by the old Lord as
a trifling folly, which might be set aside by the head of the family.
He hinted that the proposed match was by no means disagreeable to his
daughter, and scarcely credited his ears when his young kinsman declared
his honour forbade him to break with Miss Murray."
"Dear father," ejaculated Aurelia, "so he gave up everything for her
sake?"
"And never repented it!" said Betty.
"Now | 3,145.77345 |
2023-11-16 19:09:29.8618290 | 1,366 | 22 | The Project Gutenberg Etext of Conscience by Hector Malot, v4
#76 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy
#4 in our series by Hector Malot
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 1.
FOR THE WEEK ENDING SEPTEMBER 25, 1841.
* * * * *
THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.
CHAPTER V.
SHOWS THAT "THERE'S MANY A SLIP" BETWEEN OTHER THINGS BESIDE "THE CUP AND
THE LIP."
[Illustration: T]The heir of Applebite continued to squall and thrive, to
the infinite delight of his youthful mamma, who was determined that the
joyful occasion of his cutting his first tooth should be duly celebrated
by an evening party of great splendour; and accordingly cards were issued
to the following effect:--
MR. AND MRS. APPLEBITE
REQUEST THE HONOUR OF
---- ----' | 3,145.883759 |
2023-11-16 19:09:29.8637720 | 437 | 9 |
Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE NURSERY
_A Monthly Magazine_
FOR YOUNGEST READERS.
VOLUME XIII.--No. 3
BOSTON:
JOHN L. SHOREY, No. 36 BROMFIELD STREET.
1873.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,
BY JOHN L. SHOREY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
BOSTON:
RAND, AVERY, & CO., STEREOTYPERS AND PRINTERS.
[Illustration: Contents]
IN PROSE.
PAGE.
The Pigeons and their Friend 65
The Obedient Chickens 69
John Ray's Performing Dogs 71
Ellen's Cure for Sadness 75
Kitty and the Bee 78
Little Mischief 82
How the Wind fills the Sails 85
Ida's Mouse 88
Almost Lost 91
Little May 93
An Important Disclosure 95
IN VERSE.
Rowdy-Dowdy 67
The Sliders 74
Mr. Prim 77
Minding Baby 80
Deeds, not Words 84
Molly to her Dolly 87
Timothy Tippens (_with music_) 96
[Illustration: Decoration]
[Illustration: THE PIGEONS AND THEIR FRIEND.]
THE PIGEONS AND THEIR FRIEND.
A TRUE STORY.
[Illustration: W]HEN I was in Boston about a year ago, I stopped one day
at the corner of Washington Street and Franklin Street to witness a
pretty sight.
Here, just as you turn into Franklin Street, on the right, a poor
peddler used to stand with a few baskets of oranges or apples or
pe | 3,145.883812 |
2023-11-16 19:09:29.8652870 | 2,290 | 9 |
Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
produced from scanned images of public domain material
from the Google Print project.)
THE
MINSTREL,
WITH
SOME OTHER POEMS.
[Illustration]
THE MINSTREL;
OR,
THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
WITH
SOME OTHER POEMS.
By JAMES BEATTIE, LL. D.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED BY JAMES BALLANTYNE,
FOR WILLIAM CREECH, MANNERS AND MILLER,
AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO.
1805.
TO
SIR WILLIAM FORBES,
OF PITSLIGO, BARONET,
AS A MARK OF RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER,
AND AS AN APPROPRIATE TRIBUTE TO ONE OF THE MOST
VALUED FRIENDS OF THE AUTHOR,
THIS EDITION
OF THE
POETICAL WORKS OF DR BEATTIE,
_IS INSCRIBED_
BY
THE PUBLISHERS.
CONTENTS.
Page.
The Minstrel, Book I. 1
Book II. 35
Retirement 71
Elegy 76
Ode to Hope 81
Pygmaeo-gerano-machia: The Battle of the Pigmies and Cranes 89
Epistle to the Hon. C. B. 101
The Hares: A Fable 105
Epitaph: being Part of an Inscription for a Monument,
to be erected by a Gentleman to the Memory
of his Lady 118
Ode on Lord H***'s Birth-Day 119
To the Right Hon. Lady Charlotte Gordon, dressed in
a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes, &c. 125
The Hermit 127
Ode to Peace 130
Triumph of Melancholy 139
PREFACE TO THE MINSTREL.
The design was, to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, born in a
rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period
at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a
MINSTREL, that is, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;--a character,
which, according to the notions of our fore-fathers, was not only
respectable, but sacred.
I have endeavoured to imitate SPENSER in the measure of his verse, and
in the harmony, simplicity, and variety, of his composition. Antique
expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where
they seemed to suit the subject; but I hope none will be found that
are now obsolete, or in any degree unintelligible to a reader of
English poetry.
To those, who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in
so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and
seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation
to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both of simplicity
and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza
that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the
couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What
some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome
to the ear, will be found to hold true, only when the poetry is faulty
in other respects.
THE
MINSTREL;
IN TWO BOOKS.
_Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musae,
Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore,
Accipiant.----_
VIRGIL.
THE
MINSTREL;
OR,
THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.
BOOK FIRST.
I.
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep, where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war!
Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,
In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
II.
And yet, the languor of inglorious days
Not equally oppressive is to all.
Him, who ne'er listened to the voice of praise,
The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.
There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,
Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame;
Supremely blest, if to their portion fall
Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim
Had He, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.
III.
This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;
Else I should here, in cunning phrase, display,
How forth THE MINSTREL fared in days of yore,
Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:
And, from his bending shoulder, decent hung
His harp, the sole companion of his way,
Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:
And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.
IV.
Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,
That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.
The Muses fortune's fickle smile deride,
Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane;
For their delights are with the village-train,
Whom Nature's laws engage, and Nature's charms:
They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;
The parasite their influence never warms,
Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.
V.
Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.
Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
While warbling larks on russet pinions float;
Or seek, at noon, the woodland scene remote,
Where the grey linnets carol from the hill.
O let them ne'er, with artificial note,
To please a tyrant, strain the little bill!
But sing what heaven inspires, and wander where they will.
VI.
Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand;
Nor was perfection made for man below.
Yet all her schemes with nicest art are planned,
Good counteracting ill, and gladness woe.
With gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow,
If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise;
There, plague and poison, lust and rapine grow;
Here, peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies,
And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes.
VII.
Then grieve not, thou, to whom the indulgent Muse
Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire;
Nor blame the partial fates, if they refuse
The imperial banquet, and the rich attire.
Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre.
Wilt thou debase the heart which God refined?
No; let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire,
To fancy, freedom, harmony, resigned;
Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind.
VIII.
Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul
In each fine sense so exquisitely keen,
On the dull couch of Luxury to loll,
Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen;
Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen,
Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,
(The mansion, then, no more of joy serene)
Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,
And impotent desire, and disappointed pride?
IX.
O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;
All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
And all that echoes to the song of even,
All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,
And all the dread magnificence of heaven,
O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!
X.
These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health,
And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart.
But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth
E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart;
For ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart;
Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,
The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart,
The troublous day, and long distressful dream.
Return, my roving Muse! resume thy purposed theme.
XI.
There lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell,
A shepherd-swain, a man of low degree;
Whose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell,
Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;
But he, I ween, was of the North Countrie:
A nation famed for song, and beauty's charms;
Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free;
Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.
XII.
The shepherd-swain, of whom I mention made,
On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock;
The sickle, scythe, or plough, he never swayed;
An honest heart was almost all his stock;
His drink the living water from the rock:
The milky dams supplied his board, and lent
Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock;
And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent,
Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er they went.
XIII.
From labour health, from health contentment springs.
Contentment opes the source of every joy.
He envied not, he never thought of kings;
Nor from those appetites sustained annoy,
Which chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy:
Nor fate his calm and humble hopes beg | 3,145.885327 |
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HIS MAJESTY BABY AND SOME COMMON PEOPLE
By Ian MacLaren
1902
To Andrew Carnegie,
The Munificent Benefactor Of
Scots Students
I.--HIS MAJESTY BABY
UNTIL the a'bus stopped and the old gentleman entered, we had been a
contented and genial company, travelling from a suburb into the city in
high, good fellowship, and our absolute monarch was Baby. His mother
was evidently the wife of a well-doing artisan, a wise-looking, capable,
bonnie young woman; and Baby was not a marvel of attire, nor could he
be called beautiful. He was dressed after a careful, tidy, comfortable
fashion, and he was a clear-skinned, healthy child; that is all you
would have noticed had you met the two on the street. In a'bus where
there is nothing to do for forty minutes except stare into one another's
faces, a baby has the great chance of his life, and this baby was
made to seize it. He was not hungry, and there were no pins about his
clothes, and nobody had made him afraid, and he was by nature a human
soul. So he took us in hand one by one, till he had reduced us all to a
state of delighted subjection, to the pretended scandal and secret
pride of his mother. His first conquest was easy, and might have been
discounted, for against such an onset there was no power of resistance
in the elderly woman opposite--one of the lower middles, fearfully
stout, and of course a grandmother. He simply looked at her--if he
smiled, that was thrown in--for, without her knowledge, her arms had
begun to shape for his reception--so often had children lain on that
ample resting-place. "Bless 'is little 'eart; it do me good to see him."
No one cared to criticize the words, and we remarked to ourselves how
the expression changes the countenance. Not heavy and red, far less
dull, the proper adjective for the face is motherly. The next passenger,
just above Grannie, is a lady, young and pretty, and a mother? Of
course; did you not see her look Baby over, as an expert at her
sharpest, before she grows old and is too easily satisfied? Will she
approve, or is there something wrong which male persons and grandmothers
cannot detect? The mother is conscious of inspection, and adjusts a
ribbon His Majesty had tossed aside--one of his few decorations which
he wore on parade for the good of the public and his own glory--and then
she meekly awaited approval. For a moment we were anxious, but that was
our foolishness, for in half a minute the lady's face relaxed, and she
passed Baby. She leant forward and asked questions, and we overheard
scraps of technical detail: "My first... fourteen months... six teeth...
always well." Baby was bored, and apologised to the'bus. "Mothers, you
know--this is the way they go on; but what a lot they do for us! so we
must be patient." Although rank outsiders--excluded from the rites of
the nursery--yet we made no complaint, but were rather pleased at this
conference. One was a lady, the other a working woman; they had not
met before, they were not likely to meet again, but they had forgotten
strangeness and differences in the common bond of motherhood. Opposite
me a priest was sitting and saying his office, but at this point his
eye fell on the mothers, and I thought his lips shaped the words "Sancta
Maria" before he went on with the appointed portion, but that may have
been my fancy. The'bus will soon be dropping into poetry. Let us be
serious and stare before us, as becometh well-bred English people.
Baby has wearied of inaction, and has begun another campaign, and
my heart sinks, for this time he courts defeat; On the other side of
Grannie and within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose
profession there could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his
knee and were not reading from a parchment document. After a long and
serious consideration of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless
face, Baby leant forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when
the keen face looked up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile
of roguish intelligence, as if to say, "Full of big words as long as
myself, but quite useless; it could all have been said in a sentence,
as you and I know quite well; by the way, that parchment would make an
excellent drum; do you mind me? A tune has just come into my head."
The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence
of the thing? No, he did not--there is a soul in lawyers, if you know
how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but
I swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and
afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had
never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he
held the drum, and Baby played a variation on "Rule Britannia" with much
spirit, while grannie appealed for applause.
"If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday."
After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our
heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour,
and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old
maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly
drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle
with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of
genius, and it deserved success--when, with an expression of unaffected
pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her cheek.
"Poor thing, all alone,'lone,'lone," he cooed in her ear, as if to say
with liquid baby speech, "I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly,
velly solly." Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to
win a man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and
gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a
beautiful woman in her youth--no, no, to-day, just when she inclines
her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes,
"Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good." Was not that
a lovely flush on her cheek?--oh, the | 3,145.911916 |
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[Illustration: THE INDIANS WOULD RISE TO THEIR FEET FOR A SINGLE
MOMENT]
THE FOREST
BY
STEWART EDWARD WHITE
CONTENTS
I. THE CALLING
II. THE SCIENCE OF GOING LIGHT
III. THE JUMPING-OFF PLACE
IV. ON MAKING CAMP
V. ON LYING AWAKE AT NIGHT
VI. THE 'LUNGE
VII. ON OPEN-WATER CANOE TRAVELLING
VIII. THE STRANDED STRANGERS
IX. ON FLIES
X. CLOCHE
XI. THE HABITANTS
XII. THE RIVER
XIII. THE HILLS
XIV. ON WALKING THROUGH THE WOODS
XV. ON WOODS INDIANS
XVI. ON WOODS INDIANS _(continued)_
XVII. THE CATCHING OF A CERTAIN FISH
XVIII. MAN WHO WALKS BY MOONLIGHT
XIX. APOLOGIA
SUGGESTIONS FOR OUTFIT
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE INDIANS WOULD RISE TO THEIR FEET FOR A SINGLE MOMENT
THIS OLD SOLDIER HAD COME IN FROM THE LONG TRAIL TO BEAR AGAIN THE FLAG
OF HIS COUNTRY
AT SUCH A TIME YOU WILL MEET WITH ADVENTURES
EACH WAVE WAS SINGLY A PROBLEM, TO FAIL IN WHOSE SOLUTION MEANT INSTANT
SWAMPING
WATCHED THE LONG NORTH-COUNTRY TWILIGHT STEAL UP LIKE A GRAY CLOUD FROM
THE EAST
IN THIS LOVABLE MYSTERY WE JOURNEYED ALL THE REST OF THAT MORNING
NOR NEED YOU HOPE TO POLE A CANOE UPSTREAM AS DO THESE PEOPLE
THEN IN THE TWILIGHT THE BATTLE
THE FOREST
I.
THE CALLING.
"The Red Gods make their medicine again."
Some time in February, when the snow and sleet have shut out from the
wearied mind even the memory of spring, the man of the woods generally
receives his first inspiration. He may catch it from some companion's
chance remark, a glance at the map, a vague recollection of a dim past
conversation, or it may flash on him from the mere pronouncement of a
name. The first faint thrill of discovery leaves him cool, but
gradually, with the increasing enthusiasm of cogitation, the idea gains
body, until finally it has grown to plan fit for discussion.
Of these many quickening potencies of inspiration, the mere name of a
place seems to strike deepest at the heart of romance. Colour, mystery,
the vastnesses of unexplored space are there, symbolized compactly for
the aliment of imagination. It lures the fancy as a fly lures the
trout. Mattagami, Peace River, Kananaw, the House of the Touchwood
Hills, Rupert's House, the Land of Little Sticks, Flying Post,
Conjuror's House--how the syllables roll from the tongue, what pictures
rise in instant response to their suggestion! The journey of a thousand
miles seems not too great a price to pay for the sight of a place
called the Hills of Silence, for acquaintance with the people who dwell
there, perhaps for a glimpse of the saga-spirit that so named its
environment. On the other hand, one would feel but little desire to
visit Muggin's Corners, even though at their crossing one were assured
of the deepest flavour of the Far North.
The first response to the red god's summons is almost invariably the
production of a fly-book and the complete rearrangement of all its
contents. The next is a resumption of practice with the little pistol.
The third, and last, is pencil and paper, and lists of grub and duffel,
and estimates of routes and expenses, and correspondence with men who
spell queerly, bear down heavily with blunt pencils, and agree to be at
Black Beaver Portage on a certain date. Now, though the February snow
and sleet still shut him in, the spring has draw very near. He can
feel the warmth of her breath rustling through his reviving memories.
There are said to be sixty-eight roads to heaven, of which but one is
the true way, although here and there a by-path offers experimental
variety to the restless and bold. The true way for the man in the woods
to attain the elusive best of his wilderness experience is to go as
light as possible, and the by-paths of departure from that principle
lead only to the slightly increased carrying possibilities of
open-water canoe trips, and permanent camps.
But these prove to be not very independent side paths, never diverging
so far from the main road that one may dare hope to conceal from a
vigilant eye that he is _not_ going light.
To go light is to play the game fairly. The man in the woods matches
himself against the forces of nature. In the towns he is warmed and fed
and clothed so spontaneously and easily that after a time he perforce
begins to doubt himself, to wonder whether his powers are not atrophied
from disuse. And so, with his naked soul, he fronts the wilderness. It
is a test, a measuring of strength, a proving of his essential pluck
and resourcefulness and manhood, an assurance of man's highest potency,
the ability to endure and to take care of himself. In just so far as he
substitutes the ready-made of civilization for the wit-made of the
forest, the pneumatic bed for the balsam boughs, in just so far is he
relying on other men and other men's labour to take care of him. To
exactly that extent is the test invalidated. He has not proved a
courteous antagonist, for he has not stripped to the contest.
To go light is to play the game sensibly. For even when it is not so
earnest, nor the stake so high, a certain common-sense should take the
place on a lower plane of the fair-play sense on the higher. A great
many people find enjoyment in merely playing with nature. Through
vacation they relax their minds, exercise mildly their bodies, and
freshen the colours of their outlook on life. Such people like to live
comfortably, work little, and enjoy existence lazily. Instead of
modifying themselves to fit the life of the wilderness, they modify
their city methods to fit open-air conditions. They do not need to
strip to the contest, for contest there is none, and Indian packers are
cheap at a dollar a day. But even so the problem of the greatest
comfort--defining comfort as an accurate balance of effort expended to
results obtained--can be solved only by the one formula. And that
formula is, again, _go light_, for a superabundance of paraphernalia
proves always more of a care than a satisfaction. When the woods offer
you a thing ready made, it is the merest foolishness to transport that
same thing a hundred miles for the sake of the manufacturer's trademark.
I once met an outfit in the North Woods, plodding diligently across
portage, laden like the camels of the desert. Three Indians swarmed
back and forth a half-dozen trips apiece. An Indian can carry over two
hundred pounds. That evening a half-breed and I visited their camp and
examined their outfit, always with growing wonder. They had tent-poles
and about fifty pounds of hardwood tent pegs--in a wooded country where
such things can be had for a clip of the axe. They had a system of
ringed iron bars which could be so fitted together as to form a low
open grill on which trout could be broiled--weight twenty pounds, and
split wood necessary for its efficiency. They had air mattresses and
camp-chairs and oil lanterns. They had corpulent duffel bags apiece
that would stand alone, and enough changes of clothes to last out
dry-skinned a week's rain. And the leader of the party wore the
wrinkled brow of tribulation. For he had to keep track of everything
and see that package number twenty-eight was not left, and that package
number sixteen did not get wet; that the pneumatic bed did not get
punctured, and that the canned goods did. Beside which, the caravan was
moving at the majestic rate of about five miles a day.
Now tent-pegs can always be cut, and trout broiled beautifully by a
dozen other ways, and candle lanterns fold up, and balsam can be laid
in such a manner as to be as springy as a pneumatic mattress, and
camp-chairs, if desired, can be quickly constructed with an axe, and
clothes can always be washed or dried as long as fire burns and water
runs, and any one of fifty other items of laborious burden could have
been ingeniously and quickly substituted by any one of the Indians. It
was not that we concealed a bucolic scorn of effete but solid comfort;
only it did seem ridiculous that a man should cumber himself with a
fifth wheel on a smoothly macadamized road.
The next morning Billy and I went cheerfully on our way. We were
carrying an axe, a gun, blankets, an extra pair of drawers and socks
apiece, a little grub, and an eight-pound shelter tent. We had been out
a week, and we were having a good time.
II.
THE SCIENCE OF GOING LIGHT.
"Now the Four-Way lodge is opened--now the smokes of Council rise--
Pleasant smokes ere yet 'twixt trail and trail they choose."
You can no more be told how to go light than you can be told how to hit
a ball with a bat. It is something that must be lived through, and all
advice on the subject has just about the value of an answer to a
bashful young man who begged from one of our woman's periodicals help
in overcoming the diffidence felt on entering a crowded room. The reply
read: "Cultivate an easy, graceful manner." In like case I might
hypothecate, "To go light, discard all but the really necessary
articles."
The sticking-point, were you to press me close, would be the definition
of the word "necessary," for the terms of such definition would have to
be those solely and simply of a man's experience. Comforts, even most
desirable comforts, are not necessities. A dozen times a day trifling
emergencies will seem precisely to call for some little handy
contrivance that would be just the thing, were it in the pack rather
than at home. A disgorger does the business better than a pocket-knife;
a pair of oilskin trousers turns the wet better than does kersey; a
camp-stove will burn merrily in a rain lively enough to drown an open
fire. Yet neither disgorger, nor oilskins, nor camp-stove can be
considered in the light of necessities, for the simple reason that the
conditions of their use occur too infrequently to compensate for the
pains of their carriage. Or, to put it the other way, a few moments'
work with a knife, wet knees occasionally, or an infrequent soggy meal
are not too great a price to pay for unburdened shoulders.
Nor on the other hand must you conclude that because a thing is a mere
luxury in town, it is nothing but that in the woods. Most woodsmen own
some little ridiculous item of outfit without which they could not be
happy. And when a man cannot be happy lacking a thing, that thing
becomes a necessity. I knew one who never stirred without borated
talcum powder; another who must have his mouth-organ; a third who was
miserable without a small bottle of salad dressing; I confess to a pair
of light buckskin gloves. Each man must decide for himself--remembering
always the endurance limit of human shoulders.
A necessity is that which, _by your own experience_, you have
found you cannot do without. As a bit of practical advice, however, the
following system of elimination may be recommended. When you return
from a trip, turn your duffel bag upside down on the floor. Of the
contents make three piles--three piles conscientiously selected in the
light of what has happened rather than what ought to have happened, or
what might have happened. It is difficult to do this. Preconceived
notions, habits of civilization, theory for future, imagination, all
stand in the eye of your honesty. Pile number one should comprise those
articles you have used every day; pile number two, those you have used
occasionally; pile number three, those you have not used at all. If you
are resolute and singleminded, you will at once discard the latter two.
Throughout the following winter you will be attacked by misgivings. To
be sure, you wore the mosquito hat but once or twice, and the fourth
pair of socks not at all; but then the mosquitoes might be thicker next
time, and a series of rainy days and cold nights might make it
desirable to have a dry pair of socks to put on at night. The past has
been _x_, but the future might be _y_. One by one the discarded creep
back into the list. And by the opening of next season you have made
toward perfection by only the little space of a mackintosh coat and a
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Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
GOLDEN GRAIN
BY VARIUOS AUTHORS
GARNERED FROM THE
WORLD'S GREAT HARVEST-FIELD OF KNOWLEDGE
COMPRISING
Selections from the ablest Modern Writers.
OF
Prose, Poetry, and Legendary Lore.
Some Books with heaps of chaff are stored
And some do Golden Grain afford;
Leave then the chaff and spend thy pains
In gathering up the Golden Grains.
Elegantly Illustrated.
J. C. CHILTON & COMPANY,
DETROIT. MICH.,
1884.
COPYRIGHTED
1884.
J.C. CHILTON & CO.
PRESS OF
RAYNOR & TAYLOR,
75 BATES STREET.
DETROIT.
AUTHORS
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. ALFRED TENNYSON.
JOHN G. WHITTIER. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. PETER CHRISTIAN ASBJORNSEN.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. SIR ISAAC NEWTON. REV. LAURENCE STERNE.
HON. JOHN D. LONG. JOHN G. SAXE. PAUL H. HAYNE.
CHARLES DICKENS. SIR WALTER SCOTT. THOMAS MOORE.
THOMAS GRAY. LORD LYTTON. J. C. F. SCHILLER.
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. MARTIN VAN BUREN.
GEORGE WASHINGTON. JAMES A. GARFIELD.
REV. CHARLES KINGSLEY. BARRY CORNWALL.
PH[OE]BE CARY. SIDNEY DAYRE. LUCIE COBB.
PHILA H. CASE. LUCY LARCOM. ROSE HARTWICK THORPE.
MARY D. BRINE. ELIZABETH AKERS. MRS. S. M. B. PIATT.
GEORGE MCDONALD. EMMA ALICE BROWN. SAMUEL ROGRES.
BRET HARTE. GEORGE L. CATLIN. J. T. CHOATE.
GEORGE D. PRENTICE. NATHANIEL P. WILLIS.
EDWIN P. WHIPPLE. PHILLIP JAMES BAILEY.
D. BETHUNE DUFFIELD. WILLIAM L. SMITH.
FRIEDERICH GRIMM.
PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
It has been the constant endeavor of the publishers of GOLDEN GRAIN,
to produce a book in every respect worthy to be classed among the very
best works offered to an intelligent public.
Many of the selections are protected by copyright and for the use of
such, special thanks are due to the following publishers, for the
courtesies extended.
To Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., for selections from Longfellow,
Whittier, and Miss Cary; Messrs. D. Lothrop & Co., for use of
selections from Mrs. Piatt, Paul Hayne, and Mary D. Brine; and to those
authors who have furnished special contributions, we are under many
obligations.
The volume is sent forth with the belief that such a work will meet
with appreciative readers all over the land.
INTRODUCTION.
GOLDEN GRAIN.
The best introduction to a book is a glance at its pages, an
examination of its illustrations and the names of its authors.
In all the essentials which go to make up a work which shall meet with
popular favor and a wide range of readers, the Editor and Publishers
confidently believe that GOLDEN GRAIN presents a high standard of
excellence.
That all tastes might be suited, the literature of all modern nations
has been searched and selections of the highest standard made therefrom.
Golden Grain only has been garnered. The great fields of knowledge have
been visited, and none but the choicest and ripest kernels have been
chosen.
Young Folks must, and will, have something to read--something to feed
the mind as well as the body. It therefore becomes a very important
duty of parents to make choice of such books as are pure in tone and
elevating in sentiment; and it follows also, as night follows day, that
if parents fail or neglect this duty the young folks themselves will
find something to read, nor will they be so careful in their selections.
In GOLDEN GRAIN will be found a work in every respect worthy of a
place in the Family Circle. Its pages lend inspiration to fight life's
battles nobly. Those who go out from a home with noble impulses, pure
motives, and true hearts will bear the burden of Earth's cares, duties
and disappointments with patience and resignation, having
"A heart to resolve, a head to contrive and a hand to execute."
CONTENTS.
Harvest Song John G. Whittier 13
Minute Men of Liberty George William Curtis 14
Kind Hearts 16
The Children's Hour Henry W. Longfellow 17
The Brook Alfred Tennyson 21
Eulogy on Garfield James G. Blaine 23
Gems from James A. Garfield 24
At the Fireside John D. Long 25
The Frost Spirit John G. Whittier 26
The Arrow and the Song Henry W. Longfellow 29
The Bridge Henry W. Longfellow 31
The Responsive Chord J. William Jones 34
Grandma's Angel Sidney Dayre 35
Cold, Bitter Cold Hans Christian Andersen 37
Nobody's Child Phila H. Case 42
Snow-White and Rosy-Red Friederich Grimm 45
The Song of the Thrush Lucy Larcom 58
The Fox and the Geese 60
Count That Day Lost 61
The Children in the Moon 62
A Night in a Norwegian
Forest P. Chr. Asbjornsen 65
Two Little Kittens 88
Labor of Authorship 90
She Was Somebody's Mother 92
Dot Lambs What Mary Haf Got 94
The Mills of God Henry W. Longfellow 95
Bob Cratchit's Christmas Charles Dickens 96
Full Many a Gem Thomas Gray 103
A Snug Little Island 104
Don't Crowd Charles Dickens 111
The Boys Oliver Wendell Holmes 112
Quarrel Between Mountain
and Squirrel Ralph Waldo Emerson 114
For Fathers Sake 116
Backbone 130
A Dog Sheep-Stealer 132
The Best Answer to
Calumny George Washington 133
If We Knew Ph[oe]be Cary 134
Holiday Song D. Bethune Duffield 137
A Queer Duckling Hans Christian Andersen 138
Truth James Russell Lowell 156
The Clearin' 157
Prince Willful's
Three Lessons J. T. Choate 161
Miss Edith Helps
Things Along F. Bret Harte 170
The Giant Who Had
No Heart P. Chr. Asbjornsen 173
Beauty Everywhere W. L. Smith 185
Bread on the Waters George L. Catlin 186
The Use of Books 189
The Spring 190
Gem from "Lalla Rookh" Thomas Moore 190
How Bayard Shot the Bear J. T. Choate 191
How We Live Phillip James Bailey 195
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[Illustration:
PLATE I.
THE GREAT WHEEL IN ACTION.
]
DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS
OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY
Who saw what ferns and palms were pressed
Under the tumbling mountain’s breast,
In the safe herbal of the coal?
But when the quarried means were piled,
All is waste and worthless, till
Arrives the wise selecting Will,
And, out of slime and chaos, Wit
Draws the threads of fair and fit.
Then temples rose, and towns, and marts,
The shop of toil, the hall of arts;
Then flew the sail across the seas
To feed the North from tropic trees;
The storm-wind wove, the torrent span,
Where they were bid the rivers ran;
New slaves fulfilled the poet’s dream,
Galvanic wire, strong-shouldered steam.
EMERSON.
DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS
OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY
BY
ROBERT ROUTLEDGE, B.Sc.,
SOMETIME ASSISTANT EXAMINER IN CHEMISTRY AND IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY TO
THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON
THIRTEENTH EDITION
REVISED AND PARTLY RE-WRITTEN, WITH ADDITIONS
CONTAINING FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
1900
PREFACE.
In the following pages an attempt has been made to present a popular
account of remarkable discoveries and inventions which distinguish the
XIXth century. They distinguish it not merely in comparison with any
previous century, but in comparison with all the centuries that have
preceded, in regard to far-reaching intellectual acquisitions, and to
material achievements, which together have profoundly affected our ways
of thinking and our habits of life. In the latter, the enormously
increased facilities of locomotion and international communication due
to railways and steam navigation have wrought the greatest changes.
These inventions depending primarily upon that of the steam engine, this
first claims our notice, although properly assignable to a period
preceding our era by a few years. Again, much of our material
advancement is connected with improvements in the manufacture of iron
and its applications in the form of steel, which have been especially
the work of the last half of the century. So great has been the progress
in this department, that for the present edition it has been found
necessary to re-write altogether the article devoted to it. Our social
conditions have also been greatly modified by the celerity of verbal
intercourse afforded by the telegraph and the telephone, and these
inventions have received appropriate notice in this work. In every
branch of science also we have reason to be proud of the discoveries our
era can claim, for they vastly excel in number and are not inferior in
range to those of all the ages taken together. From so large a field,
selection was of course necessary; and the instances selected have been
those which appeared to some extent typical, or those which seemed to
have the most direct bearing on the general advance of our time. The
topics comprise chiefly those great applications of mechanical
engineering and arts, and of physical and chemical science, in which
every intelligent person feels concerned; while some articles are
devoted to certain purely scientific discoveries that have excited
general interest.
The author has aimed at giving a concise but clear description of the
several subjects; and that without assuming on the part of the reader
any knowledge not usually possessed by young persons of either sex who
have received an ordinary education. The design has been to treat the
subjects as familiarly as might be consistent with a desire to impart
real information; while the popular character of the book has not been
considered a reason for regarding accuracy as unnecessary. On the
contrary, pains have been taken to consult the best authorities; and it
is only because the sources of information to which the author is under
obligation are so many, that he cannot acknowledge them in detail.
The present edition has been revised throughout, and such changes have
been made as were required to bring the matter into accordance with the
progress that has taken place since this book was first published in
1876. But details given in the former editions have at the same time
been retained where they served to indicate the successive stages of
improvement. It would, for example, be impossible in a section on steam
navigation, to omit some notice of the _Great Eastern_, and therefore
the drawings and the account of the construction of that remarkable ship
that appeared in the first edition, have been left with but slight
alterations in the present volume, although the vessel has since been
broken up. On the other hand, two sections are devoted to projects which
the XIXth century has not seen realised; but the XXth century will in
all probability shortly witness the completion of one or other of the
great canal schemes; and if the first submarine tunnel is destined not
to be one connecting England with the Continent, it will be one uniting
Great Britain with her sister isle.
1899.
* * * * *
For permission to make use of illustrations in this volume the author’s
and publishers’ thanks are due to the several proprietors of _The
Graphic_ (for Plates I., XI., and XII.)—of _The Engineer_ (for sketch
design of the Great Wheel, map and views of the Tower Bridge)—of _The
Scientific American_ (map of North Sea Canal); also to Mr. Walter B.
Basset (for Plate V.)—to “The Cassier Magazine Company” (for Edison’s
Kinetographic Theatre and the Hotchkiss Gun)—to “The Century Company”
(for portrait of M. Tesla, from a photograph by Sarony)—to “The
Incandescent Gas Light Company” (for cuts of burners, etc.)—to _The
Engineering Magazine_, and _The Engineering News_, both of New York—to
the Remington Company—to Mr. W. W. Greener, of Birmingham (for cuts of
rifles, etc., from his comprehensive book on “The Gun”)—to _The
Photogram_, Limited—to the Proprietors of _Nature_—to the Linotype
Company—and to Captains Hadcock and Lloyd (for illustrations of modern
artillery from their great work on the subject).
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1
STEAM ENGINES 3
THE LOCOMOTIVE 14
PORTABLE ENGINES 24
THE STEAM HAMMER 25
IRON 29
IRON IN ARCHITECTURE 72
BIG WHEELS 81
TOOLS 85
THE BLANCHARD LATHE 96
SAWING MACHINES 98
RAILWAYS 101
THE METROPOLITAN RAILWAYS 114
THE PACIFIC RAILWAY 116
INCLINED RAILWAYS 125
STEAM NAVIGATION 129
RIVER AND LAKE STEAMBOATS OF AMERICA 144
SHIPS OF WAR 149
FIRE-ARMS 169
THE MILITARY RIFLE 178
RIFLED CANNON 190
MACHINE GUNS 218
TORPEDOES 227
SHIP CANALS 249
THE SUEZ CANAL 251
THE MANCHESTER SHIP CANAL 262
THE NORTH SEA CANAL 271
THE PANAMA AND NICARAGUA CANAL PROJECTS 272
IRON BRIDGES 276
GIRDER BRIDGES 280
SUSPENSION BRIDGES 284
CANTILEVER BRIDGES 291
THE TOWER BRIDGE, LONDON 297
THE GREAT BROOKLYN BRIDGE 303
PRINTING MACHINES 305
LETTERPRESS PRINTING 306
PATTERN PRINTING 321
HYDRAULIC POWER 324
PNEUMATIC DISPATCH 340
ROCK BORING 349
THE MONT CENIS TUNNEL 351
ROCK-DRILLING MACHINES 355
THE CHANNEL TUNNEL 364
THE ST. GOTHARD RAILWAY 371
LIGHT 380
SOME PHENOMENA OF LIGHT 382
VELOCITY OF LIGHT 384
REFLECTION OF LIGHT 388
REFRACTION 397
DOUBLE REFRACTION AND POLARISATION 399
CAUSE OF LIGHT AND COLOUR 408
THE SPECTROSCOPE 416
CELESTIAL CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS 436
ROENTGEN’S X RAYS 445
SIGHT 452
THE EYE 454
VISUAL IMPRESSIONS 468
ELECTRICITY 481
ELEMENTARY PHENOMENA OF ELECTRICITY AND MAGNETISM 483
THEORY OF ELECTRICITY 487
ELECTRIC INDUCTION 488
DYNAMICAL ELECTRICITY 490
INDUCED CURRENTS 502
MAGNETO-ELECTRICITY 507
THE GRAMME MAGNETO-ELECTRIC MACHINE 511
ELECTRIC LIGHTING AND ELECTRIC POWER 519
THE NEW ELECTRICITY 538
THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH 547
TELEGRAPHIC INSTRUMENTS 553
TELEGRAPHIC LINES 572
THE TELEPHONE 581
LIGHTHOUSES 593
PHOTOGRAPHY 607
PHOTOGRAPHY IN COLOURS 630
PRINTING PROCESSES 632
STEREOTYPING 632
LITHOGRAPHY 636
OTHER PROCESSES 640
THE LINOTYPE MACHINE 645
RECORDING INSTRUMENTS 653
THE PHONOGRAPH 665
AQUARIA 675
THE CRYSTAL PALACE AQUARIUM 677
THE BRIGHTON AQUARIUM 682
GOLD AND DIAMONDS 687
GOLD 687
DIAMONDS 696
NEW METALS 714
INDIA-RUBBER AND GUTTA-PERCHA 724
INDIA-RUBBER 724
GUTTA-PERCHA 728
ANÆSTHETICS 731
EXPLOSIVES 740
MINERAL COMBUSTIBLES 751
COAL 751
PETROLEUM 757
PARAFFIN 761
COAL-GAS 764
COAL-TAR COLOURS 781
THE GREATEST DISCOVERY OF THE AGE 801
NOTES 811
INDEX 813
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
FIG. PAGE
Heading—Rain, Steam, and Speed (after Turner) 1
1. Portrait of James Watt 3
2. Newcomen’s Steam Engine 4
3. Watt’s Double-action Steam Engine 5
4. Governor and Throttle-Valve 6
4_a_. Watt’s Parallel Motion 8
5. Slide Valve 9
6. Section of Gifford’s Injector 11
7. Bourdon’s Pressure Gauge 12
8. Steam Generator 13
9. Section of Locomotive 15
10. Stephenson’s Link Motion 17
10_a_. G. N. R. Express Passenger Locomotive 19
10_b_. Joy’s Valve Gear 20
11. Locomotive after Explosion 22
12. Hancock’s Steam Omnibus 22
13. Nasmyth’s Steam Hammer 27
14. Merryweather’s Steam Fire-Engine 28
15. A Foundry 29
16. Aerolite in the British Museum 31
17. Blast Furnace 41
18. Section and Plan of Blast Furnace (obsolete type) 42
19. Section of a Reverberatory Furnace 45
20. Fibrous Fracture of Wrought Iron 47
21. Cup and Cone 49
22. Section of Blast Furnace 51
23. Experiments at Baxter House 58
24. Bessemer Converter 63
25. Model of Bessemer Steel Apparatus 65
26. Section of Regenerative | 3,146.179459 |
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Produced by Irma Spehar, Eleni Christofaki and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's note.
Minor punctuation inconsistencies have been silently repaired. A list of
other changes made, can be found at the end of the book. For this text
version, diacritical marks that cannot be represented in plain text are
shown in the following manner:
[O] o with macron above (balcOny).
Mark up: _italics_
[Among the verses in this Collection may be found a few which have
previously appeared in a Volume, by the same Author, now out of print.]
THE LAZY MINSTREL
[Illustration]
The Lazy
Minstrel
By
J. ASHBY-STERRY
_And while his merry Banjo rang,
'Twas thus the Lazy Minstrel sang!_
[Illustration]
THIRD EDITION.
LONDON
_T. FISHER UNWIN_
26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
MDCCCLXXXVII
_The Author reserves all rights of translation and reproduction._
TO
NINA, MARY, AND FLORENCE,
THIS VOLUME IS
INSCRIBED.
CONTENTS.
LAZY LAYS:-- Page
Hambleden Lock 3
Spring's Delights 6
A Modern Syren 9
Regrets 12
Hammockuity 13
My Country Cousin 15
A Common-Sense Carol 18
Saint May 20
A Canoe Canzonet 23
A Lover's Lullaby 25
The Tam O' Shanter Cap 26
A Street Sketch 28
A Tiny Trip 29
A Study 31
Doctor Brighton 33
Lizzie 37
A Marlow Madrigal 38
In Rotten Row 41
A Portrait 43
Symphonies in Fur 45
Drifting Down 48
Toujours Tennis 50
Tarpauline 52
The Kitten 54
In the Temple 56
An Unfinished Sketch 59
On Board the "Gladys" 62
Cigarette Rings 65
At Charing Cross 67
The Music of Leaves 70
CASUAL CAROLS:--
In a Bellagio Balcony 75
A Riverain Rhyme 78
The Little Rebel 80
Canoebial Bliss 83
Rosie 85
Skindle's in October 86
In My Easy Chair 88
Blankton Weir 90
Different Views 95
Two Naughty Girls 97
Couleur de Rose 99
In Strawberry Time 102
Number One 104
After Breakfast 107
In an Old City Church 110
A Little Love-Letter 112
Stray Sunbeams 114
Pearl 116
A Nutshell Novel 118
The Pink of Perfection 119
The Impartial 121
A Traveller's Tarantella 122
In a Minor Key 124
A Shower-Song 126
THE SOCIAL ZODIAC:--
January 131
February 132
March 133
April 134
May 135
June 136
July 137
August 138
September 139
October 140
November 141
December 142
IDLE SONGS:--
Mother o' Pearl 145
A Lay of the "Lion" 147
Jennie 150
A Favourite Lounge 151
Spring Cleaning 153
Taken in Tow 155
Thrown! 157
Baggage on the Brain 160
Haytime 163
Pet's Punishment 165
The Baby in the Train 167
Miss Sailor-Boy 170
A Private Note 171
L'Inconnue 173
Fallacies of the Fog 175
The Merry Young Water-Girl 177
A Secular Sermon 179
On the French Coast 181
At the "Lord Warden" 183
Bolney Ferry 185
Dot 188
A Riverside Luncheon 190
Love-Locks 192
A Streatley Sonata 196
The Midshipmaid 199
A Pantile Poem 201
Henley in July 204
The Minstrel's Return 207
A SINGER'S SKETCH-BOOK:--
Dover 213
Chamouni 214
Baveno 215
At Table d'Hote 216
At Etretat 217
Homesick 218
Skreeliesporran | 3,146.181709 |
2023-11-16 19:09:30.1618100 | 6,175 | 8 |
Produced by Richard Tonsing, Stephen Rowland, Ted Garvin
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
STUDIES
OF
THE GREEK POETS
BY
JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS
AUTHOR OF "SKETCHES AND STUDIES IN SOUTHERN EUROPE" ETC.
_Im Ganzen, Guten, Schoenen
Resolut zu leben_
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
FRANKLIN SQUARE
1880
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER XIV.
_GREEK TRAGEDY AND EURIPIDES._
Two Conditions for the Development of a National Drama.--The
Attic Audience.--The Persian War.--Nemesis the Cardinal Idea of
Greek Tragedy.--Traces of the Doctrine of Nemesis in Early Greek
Poetry.--The Fixed Material of Greek Tragedy.--Athens in the Age
of Euripides.--Changes introduced by him in Dramatic Art.--The
Law of Progress in all Art.--AEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides.--The
Treatment of #eupsychia# by Euripides.--Menoikeus.--The Death of
Eteocles and Polynices.--Polyxena.--Medea.--Hippolytus.--Electra and
Orestes.--Injustice done to Euripides by Recent Critics. Page 9
CHAPTER XV.
_THE FRAGMENTS OF AESCHYLUS, SOPHOCLES, EURIPIDES._
Alexandrian and Byzantine Anthologies.--Titles of the Lost Plays
of AEschylus.--The _Lycurgeia_.--The Trilogy on the Story of
Achilles.--The Geography of the _Prometheus Unbound_.--Gnomic Character
of the Sophoclean Fragments.--Providence, Wealth, Love, Marriage,
Mourning.--What is True of the Sophoclean is still more True of the
Euripidean Fragments.--Mutilated Plays.--_Phaethon_, _Erechtheus_,
_Antiope_, _Danae_.--Goethe's Restitution of the _Phaethon_.--Passage
on Greek Athletes in the _Autolycus_.--Love, Women, Marriage, Domestic
Affection, Children.--Death.--Stoical Endurance.--Justice and the
Punishment of Sin.--Wealth.--Noble Birth.--Heroism.--Miscellaneous
Gnomic Fragments.--The Popularity of Euripides. Page 74
CHAPTER XVI.
_THE FRAGMENTS OF THE LOST TRAGIC POETS._
Apparent Accident in the Preservation of Greek Poetry.--Criticism
among the Ancients.--Formation of Canons.--Libraries.--The Political
Vicissitudes of Alexandria, Rome, Constantinople.--Byzantine
Scholarship in the Ninth Century.--The Lost MS. of Menander.--Tragic
Fragments preserved by the Comic Poets and their Scholiasts; by
Athenaeus, by Stobaeus.--Aristotle.--Tragedy before AEschylus.--Fragments
of Aristarchus.--The _Medea_ of Neophron.--Ion.--The _Games_
of Achaeus.--Agathon; his Character for Luxurious Living.--The
_Flower_.--Aristotle's Partiality for Agathon.--The Family of
AEschylus.--Meletus and Plato among the Tragic Playwrights.--The
School of Sophocles.--Influence of Euripides.--Family of
Carkinus.--Tragedians Ridiculed by Aristophanes.--The _Sisyphus_
of Critias.--Cleophon.--Cynical Tragedies ascribed to
Diogenes.--Extraordinary Fertility of the Attic Drama.--The Repetition
of Old Plots.--Mamercus and Dionysius.--Professional Rhetoricians
appear as Playwrights.--The School of Isocrates.--The _Centaur_ of
Chaeremon.--His Style.--The _Themistocles_ of Moschion.--The Alexandrian
Pleiad.--The _Adonis_ of Ptolemy Philopator. Page 113
CHAPTER XVII.
_ANCIENT AND MODERN TRAGEDY._
Greek Tragedy and the Rites of Dionysus.--A Sketch of its Origin and
History.--The Attic Theatre.--The Actors and their Masks.--Relation
of Sculpture to the Drama in Greece.--The Legends used by the Attic
Tragedians.--Modern Liberty in the Choice of Subjects.--Mystery
Plays.--Nemesis.--Modern Tragedy has no Religious Idea.--Tragic
Irony.--Aristotle's Definition of Tragedy.--Modern Tragedy offers
no #katharsis# of the Passions.--Destinies and Characters.--Female
Characters.--The Supernatural.--French Tragedy.--Five
Acts.--Bloodshed.--The Unities.--Radical Differences in the Spirit of
Ancient and Modern Art. Page 145
CHAPTER XVIII.
_ARISTOPHANES._
Heine's Critique on Aristophanes.--Aristophanes as a Poet of the
Fancy.--The Nature of his Comic Grossness.--Greek Comedy in its
Relation to the Worship of Dionysus.--Greek Acceptance of the Animal
Conditions of Humanity.--His Burlesque, Parody, Southern Sense of
Fun.--Aristophanes and Menander.--His Greatness as a Poet.--Glimpses
of Pathos.--His Conservatism and Serious Aim.--Socrates, Agathon,
Euripides.--German Critics of Aristophanes.--Ancient and Modern
Comedy.--The _Birds_.--The _Clouds_.--Greek Youth and Education.--The
Allegories of Aristophanes.--The _Thesmophoriazusae_.--Aristophanes and
Plato. Page 171
CHAPTER XIX.
_THE COMIC FRAGMENTS._
Three Periods in Attic History.--The Three Kinds of Comedy: Old,
Middle, New.--Approximation of Comedy to the Type of Tragedy.--Athenaeus
as the Source of Comic Fragments.--Fragments of the Old Comedy.--Satire
on Women.--Parasites.--Fragments of the Middle Comedy.--Critique of
Plato and the Academic Philosophers.--Literary Criticism.--Passages
on Sleep and Death.--Attic Slang.--The Demi-monde.--Theophrastus
and the Later Rhetoricians.--Cooks and Cookery-books.--Difficulty
of Defining the Middle from the New Comedy.--Menander.--Sophocles
and Menander.--Epicureanism.--Menander's Sober Philosophy of
Life.--Goethe on Menander.--Philemon.--The Comedy of Manners culminated
in Menander.--What we mean by Modernism.--Points of Similarity and
Difference between Ancient and Modern Comedy.--The Freedom of Modern
Art. Page 216
CHAPTER XX.
_THE IDYLLISTS._
Theocritus: his Life.--The Canon of his Poems.--The Meaning of the
Word Idyl.--Bucolic Poetry in Greece, Rome, Modern Europe.--The
Scenery of Theocritus.--Relation of Southern Nature to Greek
Mythology and Greek Art.--Rustic Life and Superstitions.--Feeling
for Pure Nature in Theocritus.--How Distinguished from the same
Feeling in Modern Poets.--Galatea.--Pharmaceutria.--Hylas.--Greek
Chivalry.--The Dioscuri.--Thalysia.--Bion.--The Lament for
Adonis.--Moschus.--Europa.--Megara.--Lament for Bion.--The Debts of
Modern Poets to the Idyllists. Page 240
CHAPTER XXI.
_THE ANTHOLOGY._
The History of its Compilation.--Collections of Meleager, Philippus,
Agathias, Cephalas, Planudes.--The Palatine MS.--The Sections
of the Anthology.--Dedicatory Epigrams.--Simonides.--Epitaphs:
Real and Literary.--Callimachus.--Epigrams on Poets.--Antipater
of Sidon.--Hortatory Epigrams.--Palladas.--Satiric
Epigrams.--Lucillius.--Amatory Epigrams.--Meleager, Straton,
Philodemus, Antipater, Rufinus, Paulus Silentiarius, Agathias,
Plato.--Descriptive Epigrams. Page 281
CHAPTER XXII.
_HERO AND LEANDER._
Virgil's Mention of this Tale.--Ovid and Statius.--Autumnal
Poetry.--Confusion between the Mythical Musaeus and the Grammarian.--The
Introduction of the Poem.--Analysis of the Story.--Hallam's Judgment
on Marlowe's _Hero and Leander_.--Comparison of Marlowe and
Musaeus.--Classic and Romantic Art. Page 345
CHAPTER XXIII.
_THE GENIUS OF GREEK ART._
Separation between the Greeks and us.--Criticism.--Greek Sense of
Beauty.--Greek Morality.--Greece, Rome, Renaissance, the Modern Spirit.
Page 363
CHAPTER XXIV.
_CONCLUSION._
Sculpture, the Greek Art _par excellence_.--Plastic Character of the
Greek Genius.--Sterner Aspects of Greek Art.--Subordination of Pain
and Discord to Harmony.--Stoic-Epicurean Acceptance of Life.--Sadness
of Achilles in the _Odyssey_.--Endurance of Odysseus.--Myth of
Prometheus.--Sir H. S. Maine on Progress.--The Essential Relation of
all Spiritual Movement to Greek Culture.--Value of the Moral Attitude
of the Greeks for us.--Three Points of Greek Ethical Inferiority.--The
Conception of Nature.--The System of Marcus Aurelius.--Contrast
with the _Imitatio Christi_.--The Modern Scientific
Spirit.--Indestructible Elements in the Philosophy of Nature. Page 391
THE GREEK POETS.
CHAPTER XIV.
_GREEK TRAGEDY AND EURIPIDES._
Two Conditions for the Development of a National
Drama.--The Attic Audience.--The Persian War.--Nemesis
the Cardinal Idea of Greek Tragedy.--Traces of the
Doctrine of Nemesis in Early Greek Poetry.--The
Fixed Material of Greek Tragedy.--Athens in the
Age of Euripides.--Changes introduced by him in
Dramatic Art.--Law of Progress in all Art.--AEschylus,
Sophocles, Euripides.--The Treatment of #eupsychia#
by Euripides.--Menoikeus.--Death of Polyneices and
Eteocles.--Polyxena.--Iphigenia.--Medea.--Hippolytus.--Electra
and Orestes.--Lustspiele.--The _Andromache_.--The Dramas
of Orestes.--Friendship and Pylades.--Injustice done to
Euripides by Recent Critics.
The chapters on AEschylus and Sophocles have already introduced the
reader to some of the principal questions regarding Attic tragedy in
general. Yet the opening of a new volume justifies the resumption
of this subject from the beginning, while the peculiar position of
Euripides, in relation to his two great predecessors, suggests the
systematic discussion of the religious ideas which underlay this
supreme form of national art, as well as of the aesthetical rules which
it obeyed in Greece.
Critics who are contented with referring the origin of the Greek drama
to the mimetic instinct inherent in all humanity are apt to neglect
those circumstances which render it an almost unique phenomenon in
literature. If the mimetic instinct were all that is requisite for
the origination of a national drama, then we might expect to find that
every race at a certain period of its development produced both tragedy
and comedy. This, however, is far from being the case. A certain rude
mimesis, such as the acting of descriptive dances or the jesting of
buffoons and mummers, is indeed common in all ages and nations. But
there are only two races which can be said to have produced the drama
as a fine art originally and independently of foreign influences. These
are the Greeks and the Hindoos. With reference to the latter, it is
even questionable whether they would have composed plays so perfect as
their famous _Sakountala_ without contact with Hellenic civilization.
All the products of the modern drama, whether tragic or comic, must
be regarded as the direct progeny of the Greek stage. The habit of
play-acting, continued from Athens to Alexandria, and from Rome to
Byzantium, never wholly expired. The "Christus Patiens," attributed
to Gregory of Nazianzus, was an adaptation of the art of Euripides
to Christian story; and the representation of "Mysteries" during the
Middle Ages kept alive the dramatic tradition, until the discovery of
classic literature and the revival of taste in modern Europe led to the
great works of the English, Spanish, French, and subsequently of the
German theatre.
Something more than the mere instinct of imitation, therefore, caused
the Greeks to develop their drama. Like sculpture, like the epic,
the drama was one of the artistic forms through which the genius of
the Greek race expressed itself--by which, to use the language of
philosophical mysticism, it fulfilled its destiny as a prime agent
in the manifestation of the World-Spirit. In their realization of
that perfect work of art for which they seem to have been specially
ordained, the drama was no less requisite than sculpture and
architecture, than the epic, the ode, and the idyl.
Two conditions, both of which the Greeks enjoyed in full perfection at
the moment of their first dramatic energy, seem to be requisite for the
production of a great and thoroughly national drama. These are, first,
an era of intense activity or a period succeeding immediately to one
of excitement, by which the nation has been nobly agitated; secondly,
a public worthy of the dramatist spurring him on by its enthusiasm and
intelligence to the creation of high works of art. A glance at the
history of the drama in modern times will prove how necessary these
conditions are. It was the gigantic effort which we English people made
in our struggle with Rome and Spain, it was the rousing of our keenest
thought and profoundest emotion by the Reformation, which prepared us
for the Elizabethan drama, by far the greatest, next to the Greek, in
literature. The nation lived in action, and delighted to see great
actions imitated. Races in repose or servitude, like the Hebrews under
the Roman empire, may, in their state of spiritual exaltation and by
effort of pondering on the mysteries of God and man, give birth to
new theosophies; but it requires a free and active race, in which
young and turbulent blood is flowing, to produce a drama. In England,
again, at that time, there was a great public. All classes crowded to
the theatres. London, in whose streets and squares martyrs had been
burned, on whose quays the pioneers of the Atlantic and Pacific, after
disputing the Indies with Spain, lounged and enjoyed their leisure,
supplied an eager audience, delighting in the dreams of poets which
recalled to mind the realities of their own lives, appreciating the
passion of tragedy, enjoying the mirth of comic incident. The men
who listened to _Othello_ had both done and suffered largely; their
own experience was mirrored in the scenes of blood and struggle set
before them. These two things, therefore--the awakening of the whole
English nation to activity, and the presence of a free and haughty
audience--made our drama great.
In the Spanish drama only one of the requisite conditions was
fulfilled--activity. Before they began to write plays the Spaniards had
expelled the Moors, discovered the New World, and raised themselves to
the first place among European nations. But there was not the same free
audience in Spain as in England. Papal despotism and the tyranny of the
court checked and coerced the drama, so that, with all its richness and
imaginative splendor, the Spanish theatre is inferior to the English.
The French drama suffered still more from the same kind of restriction.
Subject to the canons of scholastic pedants, tied down to an imitation
of the antique, made to reflect the manners and sentiments of a highly
artificial court, animated by the sympathies of no large national
audience, the French playwrights became courtiers, artists obedient
to the pleasures of a king--not, like the dramatists of Greece and
England, the prophets of the people, the leaders of a chorus triumphant
and rejoicing in its mighty deeds.
Italy has no real theatre. In Italy there has been no stirring of a
national, united spirit; no supreme and central audience; no sudden
consciousness of innate force and freedom in the sovereign people.
The requisite conditions have always failed. The German drama, both
by its successes and shortcomings, illustrates the same position.
Such greatness as it achieved in Goethe and Schiller it owed to the
fermentation of German nationality, to the so-called period of "storm
and stress" which electrified the intellects of Germany and made the
Germans eager to assert their manhood among nations. But listen to
Goethe complaining that there was no public to receive his works;
study the petty cabals of Weimar; estimate the imitative and laborious
spirit of German art, and it is clear why Germany produced but
scattered and imperfect results in the drama.
The examples of England, Spain, France, Italy, Germany, all tend
to prove that for the creation of a drama it is necessary that the
condition of national activity should be combined with the condition of
a national audience--not an audience of courtiers or critics or learned
persons. In Greece, both of these conditions were united in unrivalled
and absolute perfection. While in England, during the Elizabethan
period, the public which crowded our theatres were uncultivated, and
formed but a small portion of the free nation they represented, in
Athens the people, collectively and in a body, witnessed the dramatic
shows provided for them in the theatre of Bacchus. The same set of men,
when assembled in the Pnyx, constituted the national assembly; and
in that capacity made laws, voted supplies, declared wars, ratified
alliances, ruled the affairs of dependent cities. In a word, they were
Athens. Every man among them--by intercourse with the greatest spirits
of the Greek world in the agora and porches of the wrestling-grounds,
by contemplation of the sculptures of Pheidias, by familiarity with
Eleusinian processions, by participation in solemn sacrifices and
choric dances, by listening to the recitations of Homer, by attendance
on the lectures of the sophists, by debates in the ecclesia, by
pleadings in the law-courts--had been multifariously educated and
rendered capable of appreciating the subtleties of rhetoric and
argument, as well as of comprehending the aesthetical beauty with
which a Greek play was enriched. It is easy to imagine the influence
which this potent, multitudinous, and highly cultivated audience must
have exercised over the dramatists, and what an impulse it must have
communicated to their genius. In England the playwright and the actor
were both looked down upon with pity or contempt; they wrote and acted
for money in private speculations, and in rivalry with several petty
theatres. In Athens the tragedian was honored. Sophocles was elected a
general with Pericles, and a member of the provisional government after
the dissolution of the old democracy. The actor, too, was respected.
The State itself defrayed the expenses of the drama, and no ignoble
competition was possible between tragedian and tragedian, since all
exhibited their plays to the same audience, in the same sacred theatre,
and all were judged by the same judges.
The critical condition of the Greek people itself at the epoch of the
drama is worth minute consideration. During the two previous centuries,
the whole of Hellas had received a long and careful education: at the
conclusion came the terrible convulsion of the Persian war. After
the decay of the old monarchies, the Greek states seethed for years
in the process of dissolution and reconstruction. The colonies had
been founded. The aristocratic families had striven with the mob in
every city; and from one or the other power at times tyrants had risen
to control both parties and oppress the commonwealth. Out of these
political disturbances there gradually arose a sense of law, a desire
for established constitutions. There emerged at last the prospect
of political and social stability. Meanwhile, in all departments of
art and literature, the Greeks had been developing their genius.
Lyrical, satirical, and elegiac poetry had been carried to perfection.
The Gnomic poets and the Seven Sages had crystallized morality in
apothegms. Philosophy had taken root in the colonies. Sculpture had
almost reached its highest point. The Greek games, practised through
nearly three hundred years, had created a sense of national unity. It
seemed as if all the acquirements and achievements of the race had
been spread abroad to form a solid and substantial base for some most
comprehensive superstructure. Then, while Hellas was at this point of
magnificent but still incomplete development, there followed, first,
the expulsion of the Peisistratids from Athens, which aroused the
spirit of that mighty nation, and then the invasion of Xerxes, which
electrified the whole Greek world. It was this that inflamed the genius
of Greece; this transformed the race of thinkers, poets, artists,
statesmen, into a race of heroes, actors in the noblest sense of the
word. The struggle with Persia, too, gave to Athens her right place.
Assuming the hegemony of Hellas, to which she was fore-destined by her
spiritual superiority, she flashed in the supreme moment which followed
the battle of Salamis into the full consciousness of her own greatness.
It was now, when the Persian war had made the Greeks a nation of
soldiers, and had placed the crown on Athens, that the drama--that form
of art which combines all kinds of poetry in one, which subordinates
sculpture, painting, architecture, music, dancing, to its own use, and
renders all arts subservient to the one end of action--appeared in its
colossal majesty upon the Attic stage.
At this point of history the drama was a necessary product. The
forces which had given birth to all the other forms of art were still
exuberant and unexhausted, needing their completion. At the same time,
nothing but the impassioned presentation of humanity in action could
possibly have satisfied the men who had themselves enacted on the
plains and straits of Attica the greatest and most artistic drama of
real history. It was one of the chief actors of Marathon and Salamis
who composed the _Prometheus_, and personated his own hero on the stage.
If we proceed to analyze the cardinal idea of Greek tragedy, we shall
again observe the close connection which exists between the drama
and the circumstances of the people at the time of its production.
Schlegel, in his _Lectures on the Drama_, defines the prevailing
idea of Greek tragedy to be the sense of an oppressive destiny--a
fate against which the will of man blindly and vainly dashes. This
conception of hereditary destiny seems to be strongly illustrated by
many plays. Orestes, Oedipus, Antigone, are unable to escape their
doom. Beautiful human heroism and exquisite innocence are alike
sacrificed to the fatality attending an accursed house. Yet Schlegel
has not gone far enough in his analysis. He has not seen that this
inflexible fate is set in motion by a superior and anterior power, that
it operates in the service of offended justice. When Oedipus slays his
father, he does so in contempt of oracular warnings. Orestes, haunted
by the Furies, has a mother's blood upon his hands, and unexpiated
crimes of father and of grandsire to atone for. Antigone, the best of
daughters and most loving of sisters, dies miserably, not dogged by
Fate, but having of her own free will exposed her life in obedience to
the pure laws of the heart. It is impossible to suppose that a Greek
would have been satisfied with the bald fate-theory of Schlegel. Not
fate, but Nemesis, was the ruling notion in Greek tragedy. A profound
sense of the divine government of the world, of a righteous power
punishing pride and vice, pursuing the children of the guilty to the
tenth generation, but showing mercy to the contrite--in short, a
mysterious and almost Jewish ideal of offended holiness pervades the
whole work of the tragedians. This religious conception had gradually
defined itself in the consciousness of the Greek race. Homer in both
his epics presents us with the spectacle of crime punished. It is the
sin of Paris and the obstinacy of the Trojan princes which lead to the
fall of Troy. It is the insolence of the suitors in the _Odyssey_ which
brings them to their death. The Cyclical poets seem to have dwelt on
the same theme. The storm which fell on the Achaian fleet, dispersing
or drowning the heroes, was a punishment for their impiety and pride
during the sack of Troy. The madness of Ajax followed his violence upon
Cassandra. When conscious morality begins in Greece the idea is at once
made prominent. Hesiod continually insists on justice, whose law no man
may violate unpunished. The Gnomic poets show how guilt, if unavenged
at the moment, brings calamity upon the offspring of the evil-doer.
This notion of an inheritance of crime is particularly noticeable,
since it tinged the whole tragedy of the Greeks. Solon, again, in his
dialogue with Croesus, develops another aspect of the same idea. With
him the Deity is jealous of all towering greatness, of all insolent
prosperity; his Nemesis punishes the pride of wealth and the lust of
life. Some of the most prominent personages of Greek tragedy--Creon,
Oedipus, Theseus, Agamemnon--illustrate this phase of the idea. In the
sayings of the Seven Sages we trace another shade of the conception.
All of them insist on moderation, modesty, the right proportion, the
due mean. The lyrists take up a somewhat different position. The
vicissitudes of life, both independent of and connected with personal
guilt, fascinate their imagination. They have a deep and awful sense
of sudden catastrophes. Pindar rises to a loftier level: his odes are
pervaded by reverence for a holy power, before whom the insolent are
forced to bow, by whom the humble are protected and the good rewarded.
Such are the traces of a doctrine of Nemesis to be found in all the
literature of the pre-dramatic period. That very event which determined
the sudden splendor of the drama gave a sublime and terrific sanction
to the already existing morality. The Persian war exhibited the
downfall of a haughty and insolent race, cut off in all its pomp and
power. Before the eyes of the men who witnessed the calamities of
Oedipus and Agamemnon on the stage, the glory of godless Asia had
vanished like a dream. Thus the idea of Nemesis quelling the insolent
and smiting the unholy was realized in actual history; and to add to
the impression produced on Greek imagination by the destruction of the
Persian hosts, Pheidias carved his statue of Nemesis to be a monument
in enduring marble of the | 3,146.18185 |
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
MAIDS WIVES AND BACHELORS
by
AMELIA E. BARR
Author of "Jan Vedder's Wife," "A Bow of Orange Ribbon," etc.
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1898
Copyright, 1898,
By Dodd, Mead and Company
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Maids and Bachelors 1
The American Girl 13
Dangerous Letter-Writing 23
Flirts and Flirtation 32
On Falling in Love 38
Engaged To Be Married 47
Shall our Daughters have Dowries? 56
The Ring Upon the Finger 67
Flirting Wives 73
Mothers-in-Law 86
Good and Bad Mothers 97
Unequal Marriages 114
Discontented Women 125
Women on Horseback 145
A Good Word for Xanthippe 155
The Favorites of Men 160
Mothers of Great and Good Men 170
Domestic Work for Women 175
Professional Work for Women 187
Little Children 200
On Naming Children 205
The Children's Table 217
Intellectual "Cramming" of Boys 225
The Servant-Girl's Point of View 231
Extravagance 240
Ought we to Wear Mourning? 248
How To Have One's Portrait Taken 254
The Crown of Beauty 272
Waste of Vitality 281
A Little Matter of Money 288
Mission of Household Furniture 293
People Who Have Good Impulses 302
Worried to Death 307
The Grapes We Can't Reach 313
Burdens 319
Maids and Bachelors
Women who have devoted themselves for religious purposes to celibacy
have in all ages and countries of the world received honor, but those
upon whom celibacy has been forced, either through the influence of
untoward circumstances, or as a consequence of some want or folly in
themselves, have been objects of most unmerited contempt and dislike.
Unmerited, because it may be broadly asserted that until the last
generation no woman in secular and social life remained unmarried from
desire or from conviction. She was the victim of some natural
disadvantage, or some unhappy circumstance beyond her control, and
therefore entitled to sympathy, but not to contempt.
Of course, there are many lovely girls who appear to have every
advantage for matrimony, and who yet drift into spinsterhood. The
majority of this class have probably been imprudent and over-stayed
their market. They have dallied with their chances too long. Suddenly
they are aware that their beauty is fading. They notice that the
suitable marriageable men who hung around them in their youth have
gone away, and that their places are filled with mere callow youths.
Then they realize their mistakes, and are sorry they have thought
being "an awfully silly little thing" and "having a good time" the end
of their existence. Heart-aches and disappointments enough follow for
their punishment; for they soon divine that when women cease to have
men for lovers, and are attended by school-boys, they have written
themselves down already as old maids.
Closely allied to these victims of folly or thoughtlessness are the
women who remain unmarried because of their excessive vanity--or
natural cruelty. "My dear, I was cruel thirty years ago, and no one
has asked me since." This confession from an aunt to her niece, though
taken from a play, is true enough to tell the real story of many an
old maid. Their vanity made them cruel, and their cruelty condemned
them to a lonely, loveless life | 3,146.202301 |
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Wilson's
Tales of the Borders
AND OF SCOTLAND.
HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.
WITH A GLOSSARY.
REVISED BY
ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,
_One of the Original Editors and Contributors._
VOL. II.
LONDON:
WALTER SCOTT, 14 PATERNOSTER SQUARE,
AND NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.
1884.
CONTENTS.
A WIFE OR THE WUDDY, (_John Mackay Wilson_), 1
LORD DURIE AND CHRISTIE'S WILL, (_Alexander Leighton_), 33
RECOLLECTIONS OF BURNS, (_Hugh Miller_), 65
THE PROFESSOR'S TALES (_Professor Thomas Gillespie_)--
THE CONVIVIALISTS, 122
PHILIPS GREY, 144
DONALD GORM, (_Alexander Campbell_), 155
THE SURGEON'S TALES, (_Alexander Leighton_)--
THE CURED INGRATE, 188
THE ADOPTED SON, (_John Mackay Wilson_), 220
THE FORTUNES OF WILLIAM WIGHTON, (_John Howell_), 247
MY BLACK COAT; OR, THE BREAKING
OF THE BRIDE'S CHINA, (_John Mackay Wilson_), 276
WILSON'S
TALES OF THE BORDERS
AND OF SCOTLAND.
THE WIFE OR THE WUDDY.
"There was a criminal in a cart
Agoing to be hanged--
Reprieve to him was granted;
The crowd and cart did stand,
To see if he would marry a wife,
Or, otherwise, choose to die!
'Oh, why should I torment my life?'
The victim did reply;
'The bargain's bad in every part--
But a wife's the worst!--drive on the cart.'"
Honest Sir John Falstaff talketh of "minions of the moon;" and, truth
to tell, two or three hundred years ago, nowhere was such an order of
knighthood more prevalent than upon the Borders. Not only did the
Scottish and English Borderers make their forays across the Tweed
and the ideal line, but rival chieftains, though of the same nation,
considered themselves at liberty to make inroads upon the property
of each other. The laws of _meum_ and _tuum_ they were unable to
comprehend. Theirs was the strong man's world, and with them _might_ was
_right_. But to proceed with our story. About the beginning of the
seventeenth century, one of the boldest knights upon the Borders was
William Scott, the young laird of Harden. His favourite residence was
Oakwood Tower, a place of great strength, situated on the banks of the
Ettrick. The motto of his family was "_Reparabit cornua Phoebe_," which
being interpreted by his countrymen, in their vernacular idiom, ran
thus--"We'll hae moonlight again." Now, the young laird was one who
considered it his chief honour to give effect to both the spirit and
the letter of his family motto. Permitting us again to refer to honest
Falstaff, it implied that they were "gentlemen of the night;" and he was
not one who would loll upon his pillow when his "avocation" called him
to the foray.
It was drawing towards midnight, in the month of October, when the
leaves in the forest had become brown and yellow, and with a hard sound
rustled upon each other, that young Scott called together his retainers,
and addressing them, said--"Look ye, friends, is it not a crying sin and
a national shame to see things going aglee as they are doing? There
seems hardly such a thing as manhood left upon the Borders. A bit
scratch with a pen upon parchment is becoming of more effect than a
stroke with the sword. A bairn now stands as good a chance to hold and
to have, as an armed man that has a hand to take and to defend. Such a
state o' things was only made for those who are ower lazy to ride by
night, and ower cowardly to fight. Never shall it be said that I,
William Scott of Harden, was one who either submitted or conformed to
it. Give me the good, old, manly law, that 'they shall keep who can,'
and wi' my honest sword will I maintain my right against every enemy.
Now, there is our natural and lawful adversary, auld Sir Gideon Murray
o' Elibank, carries his head as high as though he were first cousin to a
king, or the sole lord o' Ettrick Forest. More than once has he slighted
me in a way which it wasna for a Scott to bear; and weel do I ken that
he has the will, and wants but the power, to harry us o' house and ha'.
But, by my troth, he shall pay a dear reckoning for a' the insults he
has offered to the Scotts o' Harden. Now, every Murray among them has a
weel-stocked mailing, and their kine are weel-favoured; to-night the
moon is laughing cannily through the clouds:--therefore, what say ye,
neighbours--will ye ride wi' me to Elibank? and, before morning, every
man o' them shall have a toom byre."
"Hurra!" shouted they, "for the young laird! He is a true Scott from
head to heel! Ride on, and we will follow ye! Hurra!--the moon glents
ower the hills to guide us to the spoils o' Elibank! To-night we shall
bring langsyne back again."
There were twenty of them, stout and bold men, mounted upon light
and active horses--some armed with firelocks, and others with Jeddart
staves; while, in addition to such weapons, every man had a good sword
by his side. At their head was the fearless young laird; and, at a brisk
pace, they set off towards Elibank. Mothers and maidens ran to their
cottage doors, and looked after them with foreboding hearts when they
rode along; for it was a saying amongst them, that "when young Willie
Scott o' Harden set his foot in the stirrup at night, there were to be
swords drawn before morning." They knew, also, the feud between him and
the house of Elibank, and as well did they know that the Murrays were a
resolute and a sturdy race.
Morn had not dawned when they arrived at the scene where their booty
lay. Not a Murray was abroad; and to the extreme they carried the threat
of the young laird into execution, of making "toom byres." By scores and
by hundreds, they collected together, into one immense herd, horned
cattle and sheep, and they drove them before them through the forest
towards Oakwood Tower. The laird, in order to repel any rescue that
might be attempted, brought up the rear, and, in the joy of his heart,
he sang, and, at times, cried aloud, "There will be dry breakfasts in
Elibank before the sun gets oot, but a merry meal at Oakwood afore he
gangs doun. An entire bullock shall be roasted, and wives and bairns
shall eat o' it."
"I humbly beg your pardon, Maister William," said an old retainer, named
Simon Scott, and who traced a distant relationship to the family; "I
respectfully ask your pardon; but I have been in your faither's family
for forty years, and never was backward in the hoor o' danger, or in a
ploy like this; but ye will just alloo me to observe, sir, that wilfu'
waste maks wofu' want, and I see nae occasion whatever for roasting a
bullock. It would be as bad as oor neebors on the ither side o' the
Tweed, wha are roast, roastin', or bakin' in the oven, every day o' the
week, and makin' a stane weight o' meat no gang sae far as twa or three
pounds wad hae dune. Therefore, sir, if ye will tak my advice, if we are
to hae a feast, there will be nae roastin' in the way. There was a fine
sharp frost the other nicht, and I observed the rime lying upon the
kail; so that baith greens and savoys will be as tender as a weel-boiled
three-month-auld chicken; and I say, therefore, let the beef be boiled,
and let them hae ladlefu's o' kail, and ye will find, sir, that instead
o' a hail bullock, even if ye intend to feast auld and young, male and
female, upon the lands o' Oakwood, a quarter o' a bullock will be amply
sufficient, and the rest can be sauted doun for winter's provisions. Ye
ken, sir, that the Murrays winna let us lichtly slip for this nicht's
wark; and it is aye safest, as the saying is, to lay by for a sair fit."
"Well argued, good Simon," said the young laird; "but your economy
is ill-timed. After a night's work such as this there is surely
some licence for gilravishing. I say it--and who dare contradict
me?--to-night there is not one belonging to the house of Harden, be
they old or young, who shall not eat of roast meat, and drink of
the best."
"Weel, sir," replied Simon, "wi' reverence be it spoken, but I would beg
to say that ye are wrang. Folk that ance get a liking for dainties tak
ill wi' plainer fare again; and, moreover, sir, in a' my experience, I
never kenned dainty bits and hardihood to go hand in hand; but, on the
contrary, luxuries mak men effeminate, and | 3,146.279804 |
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Transcriber's Note:
This is only an excerpt from the novel.
All-Story Weekly
_July 13-August 10, 1918_
PALOS OF THE DOG
STAR PACK
by J. U. Giesy
* * * * *
1. OUT OF THE STORM
It was a miserable night which brought me first in touch with Jason
Croft. There was a rain and enough wind to send it in gusty dashes
against the windows. It was the sort of a night when I always felt
glad to cast off coat and shoes, don a robe and slippers, and sit down
with the curtains drawn, a lighted pipe, and the soft glow of a lamp
falling across the pages of my book. I am, I admit, always strangely
susceptible to the shut-in sense of comfort afforded by a pipe, the
steady yellow of a light, and the magic of printed lines at a time of
elemental turmoil and stress.
It was with a feeling little short of positive annoyance that I heard
the door-bell ring. Indeed, I confess, I was tempted to ignore it
altogether at first. But as it rang again, and was followed by a rapid
tattoo of rapping, as of fists pounded against the door itself, I
rose, laid aside my book, and stepped into the hall.
First switching on a porch-light, I opened the outer door, to reveal
the figure of an old woman, somewhat stooping, her head covered by a
shawl, which sloped wetly from her head to either shoulder, and was
caught and held beneath her chin by one bony hand.
"Doctor," she began in a tone of almost frantic excitement. "Dr.
Murray--come quick!"
Perhaps I may as well introduce myself here as anywhere else. I am Dr.
George Murray, still, as at the time of which I write, in charge of
the State Mental Hospital in a Western State. The institution was not
then very large, and since taking my position at the head of its staff
I had found myself with considerable time for my study along the lines
of human psychology and the various powers and aberrations of the
mind.
Also, I may as well confess, as a first step toward a better
understanding of my part in what followed, that for years before
coming to the asylum I had delved more or less deeply into such
studies, seeking to learn what I might concerning both the normal and
the abnormal manifestations of mental force.
There is good reading and highly entertaining, I assure you, in the
various philosophies dealing with life, religion, and the several
beliefs regarding the soul of man. I was therefore fairly conversant
not only with the Occidental creeds, but with those of the Oriental
races as well. And I knew that certain of the Eastern sects had
advanced in their knowledge far beyond our Western world. I had even
endeavored to make their knowledge mine, so far as I could, in certain
lines at least, and had from time to time applied some of that
knowledge to the treatment of cases in the institution of which I was
the head.
But I was not thinking of anything like that as I looked at the
shawl-wrapped face of the little bent woman, wrinkled and wry enough
to have been a very part of the storm which beat about her and blew
back the skirts of my lounging-robe and chilled my ankles. I lived in
a residence detached from the asylum buildings proper, but none the
less a part of the institution; and, as a matter of fact, my sole
thought was a feeling of surprise that any one should have come here
to find me, and despite the woman's manifest state of anxiety and
haste, a decided reluctance to go with her quickly or otherwise on
such a night.
I rather temporized: "But, my dear woman, surely there are other
doctors for you to call. I am really not in general practice. I am
connected with the asylum--" "And that is the very reason I always
said I would come for you if anything happened to Mr. Jason," she cut
in.
"Whom?" I inquired, interested in spite of myself at this plainly
premeditated demand for my service.
"Mr. Jason Croft, sir," she returned. "He's dead maybe--I dunno. But
he's been that way for a week."
"Dead?" I exclaimed in almost an involuntary fashion, startled by her
words.
"Dead, or asleep. I don't know which."
Clearly there was something here I wasn't getting into fully, and my
interest aroused. The whole affair seemed to be taking on an
atmosphere of the peculiar, and it was equally clear that the gusty
doorway was no place to talk. "Come in," I said. "What is your name?"
"Goss," said she, without making any move to enter. "I'm house-keeper
for Mr. Jason, but I'll not be comin' in unless you say you'll go."
"Then come in without any more delay," I replied, making up my mind. I
knew Croft in a way--by sight at least. He was a big fellow with light
hair and a splendid physique, who had been pointed out to me shortly
after my arrival. Once I had even got close enough to the man to look
into his eyes. They were gray, and held a peculiar something in their
gaze which had arrested my attention at once. Jason Croft had the eyes
of a mystic--of a student of those very things I myself had studied
more or less.
They were the eyes of one who saw deeper than the mere objective
surface of life, and the old woman's words at the last had waked up my
interest in no uncertain degree. I had decided I would go with her to
Croft's house, which was not very far down the street, and see, if I
might, for myself just what had occurred to send her rushing to me
through the night.
I gave her a seat, said I would get on my shoes and coat, and went
back into the room I had left some moments before. There I dressed
quickly for my venture into the storm, adding a raincoat to my other
attire, and was back in the hall inside five minutes at most.
* * * * *
We set out at once, emerging into the wind-driven rain, my long
raincoat flapping about my legs and the little old woman tottering
along at my side. And what with the rain, the wind, and the unexpected
summons, I found myself in a rather strange frame of mind. The whole
thing seemed more like some story I had read than a happening of real
life, particularly so as my companion kept pace with me and uttered no
sound save at times a rather rasping sort of breath. The whole thing
became an almost eery experience as we hastened down the storm-swept
street.
Then we turned in at a gate and went up toward the | 3,146.379276 |
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NORINE'S REVENGE,
and
SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
by
MAY AGNES FLEMING
* * * * *
POPULAR NOVELS.
BY MAY AGNES FLEMING.
1.--GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE.
2.--A WONDERFUL WOMAN.
3.--A TERRIBLE SECRET.
4.--NORINE'S REVENGE.
5.--A MAD MARRIAGE.
6.--ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY.
7.--KATE DANTON.
8.--SILENT AND TRUE.
9.--HEIR OF CHARLTON.
10.--CARRIED BY STORM.
11.--LOST FOR A WOMAN.
12.--A WIFE'S TRAGEDY.
13.--A CHANGED HEART.
14.--PRIDE AND PASSION.
15.--SHARING HER CRIME.
16.--A WRONGED WIFE.
17.--MAUDE PERCY'S SECRET.
18.--THE ACTRESS' DAUGHTER (_New_).
"Mrs. Fleming's stories are growing more and more popular every
day. Their delineations of character, life-like conversations,
flashes of wit, constantly varying scenes, and deeply interesting
plots, combine to place their author in the very first rank of
Modern Novelists."
All published uniform with this volume. Price, $1.50 each, and sent
_free_ by mail on receipt of price.
BY G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, New York.
* * * * *
NORINE'S REVENGE,
and
SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
by
MAY AGNES FLEMING,
Author of
"Guy Earlscourt's Wife," "A Wonderful Woman,"
"A Terrible Secret," "A Mad Marriage," Etc.
New York:
G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers,
London: S. Low, Son & Co.,
MDCCCLXXXVI.
Copyright,
C. W. Carleton & Co.
1875.
Trow's
Printing and Bookbinding Company,
205-213 East 12th St.,
New York.
CONTENTS.
NORINE'S REVENGE.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I.--Two Black Eyes and their Work 7
II.--A Wise Man's Folly 18
III.--Mr. Laurence Thorndyke 35
IV.--The Lawyer's Warning 42
V.--"I will be your Wife" 55
VI.--Before the Wedding 69
VII.--The Gathering Storm 78
VIII.--Fled 94
IX.--"Mrs. Laurence" 102
X.--"A Fool's Paradise" 109
XI.--Gone 122
XII.--The Truth 131
XIII.--Mr. Liston's Story 142
XIV.--A Dark Compact 150
XV.--"A Fashionable Wedding" 159
XVI.--"His name is Laurence Thorndyke" 167
XVII.--A Letter from Paris 178
XVIII.--After Four Years 185
XIX.--"Whom the gods wish to
destroy they first make mad" 196
XX.--Norine's Revenge 211
XXI.--"The mills of the gods grind slowly, but
they grind exceedingly small" 215
XXII.--"The way of the Transgressor is hard." 225
XXIII.--"Jenny Kissed me." 231
SIR NOEL'S HEIR.
I.--Sir Noel's Deathbed 243
II.--Captain Everard 252
III.--"Little May" 262
IV.--Mrs. Weymore 272
V.--A Journey to London 283
VI.--Guy 288
VII.--Col. Jocyln 298
VIII.--Lady Thetford's Ball 307
IX.--Guy Legard 317
X.--Asking in Marriage 325
XI.--On the Wedding eve 334
XII.--Mrs. Weymore's Story 346
XIII.--"There is many a slip" 354
XIV.--Parted 363
XV.--After Five Years 369
XVI.--At Sorrento 373
XVII.--At Home 376
A DARK CONSPIRACY 379
FOR BETTER FOR WORSE 393
NORINE'S REVENGE.
CHAPTER I.
TWO BLACK EYES AND THEIR WORK.
The early express train from Montreal to Portland, Maine, was crowded.
Mr. Richard Gilbert, lawyer, of New York, entering five minutes before
starting time, found just one seat unoccupied near the door. A crusty
old farmer held the upper half, and moved grumpily toward the window,
under protest, as Mr. Gilbert took the place.
The month was March, the morning snowy and blowy, slushy and sleety, as
it is in the nature of Canadian March mornings to be. The sharp sleet
lashed the glass, people shivered in multitudinous wraps, lifted purple
noses, over-twisted woolen clouds and looked forlorn and miserable. And
Mr. Gilbert, congratulating himself inwardly on having secured a seat by
the stove, opened the damp _Montreal True Witness_, and settled himself
comfortably to read. He turned to the leading article, read three lines,
and never finished it from that day to this. For the door opened, a howl
of March wind, a rush of March rain whirled in, and lifting his eyes | 3,146.381505 |
2023-11-16 19:09:30.3622930 | 7,211 | 30 |
<-- p. 100 -->
At·tracÏtiv¶iÏty (?), n. The quality or degree of attractive power.
AtÏtract¶or (?), n. One who, or that which, attracts.
Sir T. Browne.
At¶traÏhent (?), a. [L. attrahens, p. pr. of attrahere. See Attract, v. t.] Attracting; drawing; attractive.
At¶traÏhent, n. 1. That which attracts, as a magnet.
The motion of the steel to its attrahent.
Glanvill.
2. (Med.) A substance which, by irritating the surface, excites action in the part to which it is applied, as a blister, an epispastic, a sinapism.
AtÏtrap¶ (?), v. t. [F. attraper to catch; … (L. ad + trappe trap. See Trap (for taking game).] To entrap; to insnare. [Obs.]
Grafton.
AtÏtrap¶, v. t. [Pref. ad + trap to adorn.] To adorn with trapping; to array. [Obs.]
Shall your horse be attrapped... more richly?
Holland.
At·trecÏta¶tion (?), n. [L. attrectatio; ad + tractare to handle.] Frequent handling or touching. [Obs.]
Jer. Taylor.
AtÏtrib¶uÏtaÏble (?), a. Capable of being attributed; ascribable; imputable.
Errors... attributable to carelessness.
J.D. Hooker.
AtÏtrib¶ute (?), v. t. [imp. & p. p. Attributed; p. pr. & vb. n. Attributing.] [L. attributus, p. p. of attribuere; ad + tribuere to bestow. See Tribute.] To ascribe; to consider (something) as due or appropriate (to); to refer, as an effect to a cause; to impute; to assign; to consider as belonging (to).
We attribute nothing to God that hath any repugnancy or contradiction in it.
Abp. Tillotson.
The merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer.
Shak.
Syn. Ð See Ascribe.
At¶triÏbute (?), n. [L. attributum.] 1. That which is attributed; a quality which is considered as belonging to, or inherent in, a person or thing; an essential or necessary property or characteristic.
But mercy is above this sceptered away;...
It is an attribute to God himself.
Shak.
2. Reputation. [Poetic]
Shak.
3. (Paint. & Sculp.) A conventional symbol of office, character, or identity, added to any particular figure; as, a club is the attribute of Hercules.
4. (Gram.) Quality, etc., denoted by an attributive; an attributive adjunct or adjective.
At·triÏbu¶tion (?), n. [L. attributio: cf. F. attribution.] 1. The act of attributing or ascribing, as a quality, character, or function, to a thing or person, an effect to a cause.
2. That which is ascribed or attributed.
AtÏtrib¶uÏtive (?), a. [Cf. F. attributif.] Attributing; pertaining to, expressing, or assigning an attribute; of the nature of an attribute.
AtÏtrib¶uÏtive, n, (Gram.) A word that denotes an attribute; esp. a modifying word joined to a noun; an adjective or adjective phrase.
AtÏtrib¶uÏtiveÏly, adv. In an attributive manner.
AtÏtrite¶ (?), a. [L. attritus, p. p. of atterere; ad + terere to rub. See Trite.] 1. Rubbed; worn by friction.
Milton.
2. (Theol.) Repentant from fear of punishment; having attrition of grief for sin; Ð opposed to contrite.
AtÏtri¶tion (?), n. [L. attritio: cf. F. attrition.] 1. The act of rubbing together; friction; the act of wearing by friction, or by rubbing substances together; abrasion.
Effected by attrition of the inward stomach.
Arbuthnot.
2. The state of being worn.
Johnson.
3. (Theol.) Grief for sin arising only from fear of punishment or feelings of shame. See Contrition.
Wallis.
At¶try (?), a. [See Atter.] Poisonous; malignant; malicious. [Obs.]
Chaucer.
AtÏtune¶ (?), v. t. [imp. & p. p. Attuned (?); p. pr. & vb. n. Attuning.] [Pref. adÐ + tune.]
1. To tune or put in tune; to make melodious; to adjust, as one sound or musical instrument to another; as, to attune the voice to a harp.
2. To arrange fitly; to make accordant.
Wake to energy each social aim,
Attuned spontaneous to the will of Jove.
Beattie.
AÏtwain¶ (?), adv. [OE. atwaine, atwinne; pref. aÐ + twain.] In twain; asunder. [Obs. or Poetic] ½Cuts atwain the knots.¸
Tennyson.
AÏtween¶ (?), adv. or prep. [See Atwain, and cf. Between.] Between. [Archaic]
Spenser. Tennyson.
AÏtwirl¶ (?), a. & adv. [Pref. aÐ + twist.] Twisted; distorted; awry. [R.]
Halliwell.
AÏtwite¶ (?), v. t. [OE. attwyten, AS. ‘twÆtan. See Twit.] To speak reproachfully of; to twit; to upbraid. [Obs.]
AÏtwixt¶ (?), adv. Betwixt. [Obs.] Spenser.
AÏtwo¶ (?), adv. [Pref. aÐ + two.] In two; in twain; asunder. [Obs.]
Chaucer.
AÏtyp¶ic (?), AÏtyp¶icÏal,} a. [Pref. aÐ not + typic, typical.] That has no type; devoid of typical character; irregular; unlike the type.
Ø Au·bade¶ (?), n. [F., fr. aube the dawn, fr. L. albus white.] An open air concert in the morning, as distinguished from an evening serenade; also, a pianoforte composition suggestive of morning.
Grove.
The crowing cock...
Sang his aubade with lusty voice and clear.
Longfellow.
Ø Au·baine¶ (?), n. [F., fr. aubain an alien, fr. L. alibi elsewhere.] Succession to the goods of a stranger not naturalized.
Littr‚.
Droit d'aubaine (?), the right, formerly possessed by the king of France, to all the personal property of which an alien died possessed. It was abolished in 1819.
Bouvier.
Aube (?), n. [See Ale.] An alb. [Obs.]
Fuller.
Ø Au·berge¶ (?), n. [F.] An inn.
Beau. & Fl.
Ø Au¶bin (?), n. [F.] A broken gait of a horse, between an amble and a gallop; Ð commonly called a Canterbury gallop.
Au¶burn (?), a. [OE. auburne blonde, OF. alborne, auborne, fr. LL. alburnus whitish, fr. L. albus white. Cf. Alburn.] 1. FlaxenÐ. [Obs.]
Florio.
2. Reddish brown.
His auburn locks on either shoulder flowed.
Dryden.
Ø AuÏche¶niÏum (?), n. [NL., fr. Gr.?, fr.? the neck.] (Zo”l.) The part of the neck nearest the back.
Auc¶taÏry (?), n. [L. auctarium.] That which is superadded; augmentation. [Obs.]
Baxter.
Auc¶tion (?), n. [L. auctio an increasing, a public sale, where the price was called out, and the article to be sold was adjudged to the last increaser of the price, or the highest bidder, fr. L. augere, auctum, to increase. See Augment.] 1. A public sale of property to the highest bidder, esp. by a person licensed and authorized for the purpose; a vendue.
2. The things sold by auction or put up to auction.
Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys?
Pope.
µ In the United States, the more prevalent expression has been ½sales at auction,¸ that is, by an increase of bids (Lat. auctione). This latter form is preferable.
Dutch auction, the public offer of property at a price beyond its value, then gradually lowering the price, till some one accepts it as purchaser.
P. Cyc.
Auc¶tion, v. t. To sell by auction.
Auc¶tionÏaÏry (?), a. [L. auctionarius.] Of or pertaining to an auction or an auctioneer. [R.]
With auctionary hammer in thy hand.
Dryden.
Auc·tionÏeer¶ (?), n. A person who sells by auction; a person whose business it is to dispose of goods or lands by public sale to the highest or best bidder.
Auc·tionÏeer¶, v. t. To sell by auction; to auction.
Estates... advertised and auctioneered away.
Cowper.
Au·cuÏpa¶tion (?), n. [L. aucupatio, fr. auceps, contr. for aviceps; avis bird + capere to take.] Birdcatching; fowling. [Obs.]
Blount.
AuÏda¶cious (?), a. [F. audacieux, as if fr. LL. audaciosus (not found), fr. L. audacia audacity, fr. audax, Ðacis, bold, fr. audere to dare.] 1. Daring; spirited; adventurous.
As in a cloudy chair, ascending rides
Audacious.
Milton.
2. Contemning the restraints of law, religion, or decorum; bold in wickedness; presumptuous; impudent; insolent. ½ Audacious traitor.¸ Shak.
½ Such audacious neighborhood.¸
Milton.
3. Committed with, or proceedings from, daring effrontery or contempt of law, morality, or decorum. ½Audacious cruelty.¸ ½Audacious prate.¸
Shak.
AuÏda¶ciousÏly, adv. In an audacious manner; with excess of boldness; impudently.
AuÏda¶ciousÏness, n. The quality of being audacious; impudence; audacity.
AuÏdac¶iÏty (?), n. 1. Daring spirit, resolution, or confidence; venturesomeness.
The freedom and audacity necessary in the commerce of men.
Tatler.
2. Reckless daring; presumptuous impudence; Ð implying a contempt of law or moral restraints.
With the most arrogant audacity.
Joye.
Au·diÏbil¶iÏty (?), n. The quality of being audible; power of being heard; audible capacity.
Au¶diÏble (?), a. [LL. audibilis, fr. L. audire, auditum, to hear: cf. Gr.? ear, L. auris, and E. ear.] Capable of being heard; loud enough to be heard; actually heard; as, an audible voice or whisper.
Au¶diÏble, n. That which may be heard. [Obs.]
Visibles are swiftlier carried to the sense than audibles.
Bacon.
Au¶diÏbleÏness, n. The quality of being audible.
Au¶diÏbly, adv. So as to be heard.
Au¶diÏence (?), n. [F. audience, L. audientia, fr. audire to hear. See Audible, a.] 1. The act of hearing; attention to sounds.
Thou, therefore, give due audience, and attend.
Milton.
2. Admittance to a hearing; a formal interview, esp. with a sovereign or the head of a government, for conference or the transaction of business.
According to the fair play of the world,
Let me have audience: I am sent to speak.
Shak.
3. An auditory; an assembly of hearers. Also applied by authors to their readers.
Fit audience find, though few.
Milton.
He drew his audience upward to the sky.
Dryden.
Court of audience, or Audience court (Eng.), a court long since disused, belonging to the Archbishop of Canterbury; also, one belonging to the Archbishop of York. Mozley & W. Ð In general (or open) audience, publicly. Ð To give audience, to listen; to admit to an interview.
Au¶diÏent (?), a. [L. audiens, p. pr. of audire. See Audible, a.] Listening; paying attention; as, audient souls.
Mrs. Browning.
Au¶diÏent, n. A hearer; especially a catechumen in the early church. [Obs.]
Shelton.
Au·diÏom¶eÏter (?), n. [L. audire to hear + Ðmeter.] (Acous.) An instrument by which the power of hearing can be gauged and recorded on a scale.
Au¶diÏphone (?), n. [L. audire to hear + Gr.? sound.] An instrument which, placed against the teeth, conveys sound to the auditory nerve and enables the deaf to hear more or less distinctly; a dentiphone.
Au¶dit (?), n. [L. auditus a hearing, fr. audire. See Audible, a.] 1. An audience; a hearing. [Obs.]
He appeals to a high audit.
Milton.
2. An examination in general; a judicial examination.
Specifically: An examination of an account or of accounts, with the hearing of the parties concerned, by proper officers, or persons appointed for that purpose, who compare the charges with the vouchers, examine witnesses, and state the result.
3. The result of such an examination, or an account as adjusted by auditors; final account.
Yet I can make my audit up.
Shak.
4. A general receptacle or receiver. [Obs.]
It [a little brook] paid to its common audit no more than the revenues of a little cloud.
Jer. Taylor.
Audit ale, a kind of ale, brewed at the English universities, orig. for the day of audit. Ð Audit house, Audit room, an appendage to a cathedral, for the transaction of its business.
Au¶dit (?), v. t. [imp. & p. p. Audited; p. pr. & vb. n. Auditing.] To examine and adjust, as an account or accounts; as, to audit the accounts of a treasure, or of parties who have a suit depending in court.
Au¶dit, v. i. To settle or adjust an account.
Let Hocus audit; he knows how the money was disbursed.
Arbuthnot.
Ø AuÏdi¶ta queÏre¶la (?). [L., the complaint having been heard.] (Law) A writ which lies for a party against whom judgment is recovered, but to whom good matter of discharge has subsequently accrued which could not have been availed of to prevent such judgment.
Wharton.
AuÏdi¶tion (?), n. [L. auditio.] The act of hearing or listening; hearing.
Audition may be active or passive; hence the difference between listening and simple hearing.
Dunglison.
Au¶diÏtive (?), a. [Cf. F. auditif.] Of or pertaining to hearing; auditory. [R.]
Cotgrave.
Au¶diÏtor (?), n. [L. auditor, fr. audire. See Audible, a.] 1. A hearer or listener.
Macaulay.
2. A person appointed and authorized to audit or examine an account or accounts, compare the charges with the vouchers, examine the parties and witnesses, allow or reject charges, and state the balance.
3. One who hears judicially, as in an audience court.
µ In the United States government, and in the State governments, there are auditors of the treasury and of the public accounts. The name is also applied to persons employed to check the accounts of courts, corporations, companies, societies, and partnerships.
Au·diÏto¶riÏal (?), a. Auditory. [R.]
Au·diÏto¶riÏum (?), n. [L. See Auditory, n.] The part of a church, theater, or other public building, assigned to the audience.
µ In ancient churches the auditorium was the nave, where hearers stood to be instructed; in monasteries it was an apartment for the reception of strangers.
Au¶diÏtorÏship (?), n. The office or function of auditor.
Au¶diÏtoÏry (?), a. [L. auditorius.] Of or pertaining to hearing, or to the sense or organs of hearing; as, the auditory nerve. See Ear.
Auditory canal (Anat.), the tube from the auditory meatus or opening of the ear to the tympanic membrane.
Au¶diÏtoÏry, n. [L. auditorium.] 1. An assembly of hearers; an audience.
2. An auditorium.
Udall.
Au¶diÏtress (?), n. A female hearer.
Milton.
AuÏdit¶uÏal (?), a. Auditory. [R.]
Coleridge.
Auf (?), n. [OE. auph, aulf, fr. Icel. ¾lfr elf. See Elf.] [Also spelt oaf, ouphe.] A changeling or elf child, Ð that is, one left by fairies; a deformed or foolish child; a simpleton; an oaf. [Obs.]
Drayton.
Ø Au· fait¶ (?). [F. Lit., to the deed, act, or point. Fait is fr. L. factum. See Fact.] Expert; skillful; well instructed.
AuÏge¶an (?), a. 1. (Class. Myth.) Of or pertaining to Augeus, king of Elis, whose stable contained 3000 oxen, and had not been cleaned for 30 years. Hercules cleansed it in a single day.
2. Hence: Exceedingly filthy or corrupt.
Augean stable (Fig.), an accumulation of corruption or filth almost beyond the power of man to remedy.
Au¶ger (?), n. [OE. augoure, nauger, AS. nafeg¾r, fr. nafu, nafa, nave of a wheel + g¾r spear, and therefore meaning properly and originally a naveÐbore. See Nave (of a wheel) and 2d Gore, n.] 1. A carpenter's tool for boring holes larger than those bored by a gimlet. It has a handle placed crosswise by which it is turned with both hands. A pod auger is one with a straight channel or groove, like the half of a bean pod. A screw auger has a twisted blade, by the spiral groove of which the chips are discharge.
2. An instrument for boring or perforating soils or rocks, for determining the quality of soils, or the nature of the rocks or strata upon which they lie, and for obtaining water.
Auger bit, a bit with a cutting edge or blade like that of an anger.
Ø AuÏget¶ (?), n. [F., dim. of auge trough, fr. L. alveus hollow, fr. alvus belly.] (Mining) A priming tube connecting the charge chamber with the gallery, or place where the slow match is applied.
Knight.
Aught (?), Aucht (?), n. [AS.?ht, fr. ¾gan to own, p. p. ¾hte.] Property; possession. [Scot.]
Sir W. Scott.
Aught (?), n. [OE. aught, ought, awiht, AS. ¾wiht, ¾ ever + wiht.?136. See Aye ever, and Whit, Wight.] Anything; any part. [Also written ought.]
There failed not aught of any good thing which the Lord has spoken.
Josh. xxi. 45
But go, my son, and see if aught be wanting.
Addison.
<-- p. 101 -->
Aught (?), adv. At all; in any degree.
Chaucer.
Au¶gite (?), n. [L. augites, Gr.?, fr.? brightness: cf. F. augite.] A variety of pyroxene, usually of a black or dark green color, occurring in igneous rocks, such as basalt; Ð also used instead of the general term pyroxene.
AuÏgit¶ic (?), a. Pertaining to, or like, augite; containing augite as a principal constituent; as, augitic rocks.
AugÏment¶ (?), v. t. [imp. & p. p. Augmented; p. pr. & vb. n. Augmenting.] [L. augmentare, fr. augmentum an increase, fr. augere to increase; perh. akin to Gr.?,?, E. wax, v., and eke, v.: cf. F. augmenter.] 1. To enlarge or increase in size, amount, or degree; to swell; to make bigger; as, to augment an army by re‰forcements; rain augments a stream; impatience augments an evil.
But their spite still serves
His glory to augment.
Milton.
2. (Gram.) To add an ~ to.
AugÏment¶, v. i. To increase; to grow larger, stronger, or more intense; as, a stream augments by rain.
Aug¶ment (?), n. [L. augmentum: cf. F. augment.] 1. Enlargement by addition; increase.
2. (Gram.) A vowel prefixed, or a lengthening of the initial vowel, to mark past time, as in Greek and Sanskrit verbs.
µ In Greek, the syllabic augment is a prefixed?, forming an intial syllable; the temporal augment is an increase of the quantity (time) of an initial vowel, as by changing? to?.
AugÏment¶aÏble (?), a. Capable of augmentation.
Walsh.
Aug·menÏta¶tion (?), n. [LL. augmentatio: cf. F. augmentation.] 1. The act or process of augmenting, or making larger, by addition, expansion, or dilation; increase.
2. The state of being augmented; enlargement.
3. The thing added by way of enlargement.
4. (Her.) A additional charge to a coat of arms, given as a mark of honor.
Cussans.
5. (Med.) The stage of a disease in which the symptoms go on increasing.
Dunglison.
6. (Mus.) In counterpoint and fugue, a repetition of the subject in tones of twice the original length.
Augmentation court (Eng. Hist.), a court erected by Stat. 27 Hen. VIII., to augment to revenues of the crown by the suppression of monasteries. It was long ago dissolved.
Encyc. Brit.
Syn. - Increase; enlargement; growth; extension; accession; addition.
AugÏment¶aÏtive (?), a. [Cf. F. augmentatif.] Having the quality or power of augmenting; expressing augmentation. Ð AugÏment¶aÏtiveÏly, adv.
AugÏment¶aÏtive, n. (Gram.) A word which expresses with augmented force the idea or the properties of the term from which it is derived; as, dullard, one very dull. Opposed to diminutive.
Gibbs.
AugÏment¶er (?), n. One who, or that which, augments or increases anything.
Au¶grim (?), n. See Algorism. [Obs.]
Chaucer.
÷ stones, pebbles formerly used in numeration. Ð Noumbres of ~, Arabic numerals.
Chaucer.
Au¶gur (?), n. [L. Of uncertain origin: the first part of the word is perh. fr. L. avis bird, and the last syllable, gur, equiv. to the Skr. gar to call, akin to L. garrulus garrulous.] 1. (Rom. Antiq.) An official diviner who foretold events by the singing, chattering, flight, and feeding of birds, or by signs or omens derived from celestial phenomena, certain appearances of quadrupeds, or unusual occurrences.
2. One who foretells events by omens; a soothsayer; a diviner; a prophet.
Augur of ill, whose tongue was never found
Without a priestly curse or boding sound.
Dryden.
Au¶gur, v. i. [imp. & p. p. Augured (?); p. pr. & vb. n. Auguring.] 1. To conjecture from signs or omens; to prognosticate; to foreshow.
My auguring mind assures the same success.
Dryden.
2. To anticipate, to foretell, or to indicate a favorable or an unfavorable issue; as, to augur well or ill.
Au¶gur, v. t. To predict or foretell, as from signs or omens; to betoken; to presage; to infer.
It seems to augur genius.
Sir W. Scott.
I augur everything from the approbation the proposal has met with.
J. F. W. Herschel.
Syn. - To predict; forebode; betoken; portend; presage; prognosticate; prophesy; forewarn.
Au¶guÏral (?), a. [L. auguralis.] Of or pertaining to augurs or to augury; betokening; ominous; significant; as, an augural staff; augural books. ½Portents augural.¸
Cowper.
Au¶guÏrate (?), v. t. & i. [L. auguratus, p. p. of augurari to augur.] To make or take auguries; to augur; to predict. [Obs.]
C. Middleton.
Au¶guÏrate (?), n. The office of an augur.
Merivale.
Au·guÏra¶tion (?), n. [L. auguratio.] The practice of augury.
Au¶gurÏer (?), n. An augur. [Obs.]
Shak.
AuÏgu¶riÏal (?), a. [L. augurialis.] Relating to augurs or to augury.
Sir T. Browne.
Au¶guÏrist (?), n. An augur. [R.]
An¶gurÏize (?), v. t. To augur. [Obs.]
Blount.
Au¶guÏrous (?), a. Full of augury; foreboding. [Obs.] ½Augurous hearts.¸
Chapman.
Au¶gurÏship (?), n. The office, or period of office, of an augur.
Bacon.
Au¶guÏry (?), n.; pl. Auguries (?). [L. aucurium.] 1. The art or practice of foretelling events by observing the actions of birds, etc.; divination.
2. An omen; prediction; prognostication; indication of the future; presage.
From their flight strange auguries she drew.
Drayton.
He resigned himself... with a docility that gave little augury of his future greatness.
Prescott.
3. A rite, ceremony, or observation of an augur.
AuÏgust¶ (?), a. [L. augustus; cf. augere to increase; in the language of religion, to honor by offerings: cf. F. auguste. See Augment.] Of a quality inspiring mingled admiration and reverence; having an aspect of solemn dignity or grandeur; sublime; majestic; having exalted birth, character, state, or authority. ½Forms august.¸ Pope. ½August in visage.¸ Dryden. ½To shed that august blood.¸ Macaulay.
So beautiful and so august a spectacle.
Burke.
To mingle with a body so august.
Byron.
Syn. - Grand; magnificent; majestic; solemn; awful; noble; stately; dignified; imposing.
Au¶gust (?), n. [L. Augustus. See note below, and August, a.] The eighth month of the year, containing thirtyÐone days.
µ The old Roman name was Sextilis, the sixth month from March, the month in which the primitive Romans, as well as Jews, began the year. The name was changed to August in honor of Augustus C‘sar, the first emperor of Rome, on account of his victories, and his entering on his first consulate in that month.
AuÏgus¶tan (?), a. [L. Augustanus, fr. Augustus. See August, n.] 1. Of or pertaining to Augustus C‘sar or to his times.
2. Of or pertaining to the town of Augsburg.
Augustan age of any national literature, the period of its highest state of purity and refinement; Ð so called because the reign of Augustus C‘sar was the golden age of Roman literature. Thus the reign of Louis XIV. (b. 1638) has been called the Augustan age of French literature, and that of Queen Anne (b. 1664) the Augustan age of English literature. Ð Augustan confession (Eccl. Hist.), or confession of Augsburg, drawn up at Augusta Vindelicorum, or Augsburg, by Luther and Melanchthon, in 1530, contains the principles of the Protestants, and their reasons for separating from the Roman Catholic church.
AuÏgus¶tine (?), Au·gusÏtin¶iÏan (?), } n. (Eccl.) A member of one of the religious orders called after St. Augustine; an Austin friar.
Au·gusÏtin¶iÏan, a. Of or pertaining to St. Augustine, bishop of Hippo in Northern Africa (b. 354 Ð d. 430), or to his doctrines.
÷ canons, an order of monks once popular in England and Ireland; Ð called also regular canons of. Austin, and black canons. Ð ÷ hermits or Austin friars, an order of friars established in 1265 by Pope Alexander IV. It was introduced into the United States from Ireland in 1790. Ð ÷ nuns, an order of nuns following the rule of St. Augustine. Ð ÷ rule, a rule for religious communities based upon the 109th letter of St. Augustine, and adopted by the ÷ orders.
Au·gusÏtin¶iÏan, n. One of a class of divines, who, following St. Augustine, maintain that grace by its nature is effectual absolutely and creatively, not relatively and conditionally.
Au·gusÏtin¶iÏanÏism (?), AuÏgus¶tinÏism, n. The doctrines held by Augustine or by the Augustinians.
AuÏgust¶ly, adv. In an august manner.
AuÏgust¶ness, n. The quality of being august; dignity of mien; grandeur; magnificence.
Auk (?), n. [Prov. E. alk; akin to Dan. alke, Icel. & Sw. alka.] (Zo”l.) A name given to various species of arctic sea birds of the family Alcid‘. The great ~, now extinct, is Alca (or Plautus) impennis. The razorÐbilled auk is A. torda. See Puffin, Guillemot, and Murre.
Auk¶ward (?), a. See Awkward. [Obs.]
AuÏla¶riÏan (?), a. [L. aula hall. Cf. LL. aularis of a court.] Relating to a hall.
AuÏla¶riÏan, n. At Oxford, England, a member of a hall, distinguished from a collegian.
Chalmers.
Auld (?), a. [See Old.] Old; as, Auld Reekie (old smoky), i. e., Edinburgh. [Scot. & Prov. Eng.]
Auld· lang syne¶ (?). A Scottish phrase used in recalling recollections of times long since past. ½The days of auld lang syne.¸
AuÏlet¶ic (?), a. [L. a | 3,146.382333 |
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_Frontispiece._
]
UNDER KING HENRY'S
BANNERS
A STORY OF THE DAYS OF AGINCOURT
By
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of
"The Winning of the Golden Spurs,"
etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOHN CAMPBELL
LONDON
THE PILGRIM PRESS
16, PILGRIM STREET, E.C.
_Fair stood the wind for France
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
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Produced by John Hamm
CHILD CHRISTOPHER AND GOLDILIND THE FAIR
by William Morris
1895
CHAPTER I. OF THE KING OF OAKENREALM, AND HIS WIFE AND HIS CHILD.
Of old there was a land which was so much a woodland, that a minstrel
thereof said it that a squirrel might go from end to end, and all about,
from tree to tree, and never touch the earth: therefore was that land
called Oakenrealm.
The lord and king thereof was a stark man, and so great a warrior that
in his youth he took no delight in aught else save battle and tourneys.
But when he was hard on forty years old, he came across a daughter of
a certain lord, whom he had vanquished, and his eyes bewrayed him
into longing, so that he gave back to the said lord the havings he had
conquered of him that he might lay the maiden in his kingly bed. So he
brought her home with him to Oakenrealm and wedded her.
Tells the tale that he rued not his bargain, but loved her so dearly
that for a year round he wore no armour, save when she bade him play in
the tilt-yard for her desport and pride.
So wore the days till she went with child and was near her time, and
then it betid that three kings who marched on Oakenrealm banded them
together against him, and his lords and thanes cried out on him to lead
them to battle, and it behoved him to do as they would.
So he sent out the tokens and bade an hosting at his chief city, and
when all was ready he said farewell to his wife and her babe unborn, and
went his ways to battle once more: but fierce was his heart against the
foemen, that they had dragged him away from his love and his joy.
Even amidst of his land he joined battle with the host of the ravagers,
and the tale of them is short to tell, for they were as the wheat before
the hook. But as he followed up the chase, a mere thrall of the fleers
turned on him and cast his spear, and it reached him whereas his hawberk
was broken, and stood deep in, so that he fell to earth unmighty: and
when his lords and chieftains drew about him, and cunning men strove to
heal him, it was of no avail, and he knew that his soul was departing.
Then he sent for a priest, and for the Marshal of the host, who was a
great lord, and the son of his father's brother, and in few words bade
him look to the babe whom his wife bore about, and if it were a man, to
cherish him and do him to learn all that a king ought to know; and if it
were a maiden, that he should look to her wedding well and worthily: and
he let swear him on his sword, on the edges and the hilts, that he would
do even so, and be true unto his child if child there were: and he bade
him have rule, if so be the lords would, and all the people, till the
child were of age to be king: and the Marshal swore, and all the lords
who stood around bare witness to his swearing. Thereafter the priest
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The King's Assegai, by Bertram Mitford.
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________________________________________________________________________
THE KING'S ASSEGAI, BY BERTRAM MITFORD.
PROLOGUE.
"You were astonished when I refused your piece of gold, _Nkose_. But
were you to offer me your waggon loaded up with just such shining gold
pieces, even that would not coax this broad spear out of my possession."
[Nkose: literally "chief"--a title of civility which the innate courtesy
of the Zulu moves him to bestow upon the stranger. In this connection
it corresponds to "sir."]
"I should be sorry to make the offer, Untuswa, for I fear that, whatever
its merit, I should be the owner of a weapon for which I had paid too
long a price."
But the old Zulu only shook his head, contemptuously, it seemed, and the
faint, satirical smile which turned down the corners of his mouth seemed
to say, "This poor fool! Does he know what he is talking about?"
"Let me look at it again, Untuswa," I said, reaching out for the weapon
for which a few minutes before I had ended by offering a golden
sovereign--having begun with a few worthless items of truck, such as
beads, pocket-knives, etc. It was a splendid assegai of the short--
handled, close-quarter type. The blade, double-edged, keen and shining,
was three fingers broad and at least twenty inches in length, and was
secured in its socket by raw-hide bindings, firm as iron, and most
neatly and tastefully plaited. The haft, expanding at the butt into a
truncated knob, was of a curious dark wood, something like ebony, almost
black, and highly polished.
"_Au_! You are a good man, _Nkose_. You will not do anything to it?"
was the somewhat reluctant reply, as the weapon was handed over.
"Bewitch it, I suppose you mean, Untuswa? Have no fear. There is no
_tagati_ about me--not a grain."
Handling this splendid specimen of an assegai, poising it, noting its
perfect and graceful make, its strength and temper, I was inclined to
quadruple my original offer, but that I felt confident that the old man
was in dead earnest as to his statement that untold gold would not
induce him to part with this weapon. But here, I thought, is the direct
antithesis of the Needy Knife-Grinder. This man _has_ a story to tell,
if only he can be induced to tell it.
The hour was propitious--the still, deliciously lazy time of the mid-day
outspan. From our position on the Entonjaneni heights we commanded a
fair expanse of the crag-crowned hills and rolling plains of Central
Zululand. Beneath lay the wide bush-clad valley of the White Umfolosi--
the river winding in a snaky band. Beyond, the Mahlabatini Plain--now
silent and deserted--and there six great wizard-circles in the grass
alone showed where had stood, a year or so back, just that number of
huge kraals, the principal of which was Ulundi.
The unwilling dealer in prize assegais was a tall, thin old man, whose
age it would have been impossible to guess were it not that by his own
showing he must have been at least as old as the century--which would
have given him fourscore. Though lean and shrunken, he showed evidences
of the former possession of great muscular power, and even now was as
straight as a telegraph-pole, and carried his ringed head slightly
thrown back, as became a man who was somebody. He had come to the
waggon, in company with other Zulus, to exchange civilities according to
custom, but had lingered on after the departure of the rest. Then I fed
him, and gave him much snuff, and strove to tempt him to sell the weapon
which had taken my fancy.
"It is a fine spear," I said, returning it to its owner; "but there are
many such in Zululand, and of gold pieces there are not many. Why do
you value it so?"
"_Au_! Value it?" Then, with a glance at my native boys who were
snoring under the waggon, he said, in a lowered voice, and stretching
forth his hand in emphasis:
"It was the spear of the King."
"Of the King? Of Cetywayo?"
"_Qa-bo_! Not so!" he answered with a shake of the head. Then, after a
few moments spent in snuff-taking and silence, he went on:
"Listen, _Nkose_; I have fought for another king than him whom you
English have taken from us, and for whom our hearts are crying. Though
in my old age I fought for Cetywayo as an ordinary warrior, yet I was,
while yet young, a great _induna_ at the right hand of another king, and
the second in command of his armies. For my youth, and, indeed, most of
my life, was passed among a kindred people who dwell to the north. I am
from the Amandebili."
[Amandebili: commonly known as Matabili.]
CHAPTER ONE.
TSHAKA'S IMPI.
Now I saw I was going to get at a wonderful story. The incidents and
recollections which would cluster round that beautifully-made
dark-handled spear could not fail to be copious as well as passing
strange. Then, in his pleasant and flowing Zulu voice--_the_ voice _par
excellence_ for narrative purposes--the old man began:
"I am Untuswa, the son of Ntelani, a Zulu of the tribe of Umtetwa. I
was a boy in the days when Tshaka, the great King, ruled this land, and
trampled his enemies flatter than the elephant tramples the
grass-blades. But I was full of the fighting blood which has made our
people what they are--what they wore, rather"--he parenthesised sadly,
recollecting that we were looking down upon the relics of fallen
greatness, as represented by the silent desolation of the razed
capital--"ah, yes! But instead of fighting for Tshaka I fought under a
very different sort of king.
[Tshaka: The name of the celebrated Zulu King should, in strict
accuracy, be written Tyaka. The above spelling, however, has been
adopted throughout this narrative in consideration for the British ear.
To spell the name with a C is quite erroneous.]
"When there are two bulls of nearly equal size in one kraal, they will
not look long at each other before locking their horns. There were two
such bulls in those days in the land of Zulu, and they were Tshaka, the
son of Senzangakona, who was the King, and Umzilikazi, the son of
Matyobane. I was but a boy, I repeat, in those days, but they tell me
that Umzilikazi loved not the house of Senzangakona. But he was wiser
than the serpent if braver than the bull-buffalo in full charge. He
thought it better to be a live king than a dead _induna_.
[Umzilikazi: More commonly, but quite erroneously, known as
Mosilekatse.]
"It befell that he dropped out of favour with the great King; for being,
though young, one of the first fighting chiefs among the Amazulu, he
soon gathered to himself an immense following. To him, too, came my
father, Ntelani, and many others who loved not the House which had
deposed the tribe of Umtetwa, the royal House of Dingiswayo, which was
our own. Then Tshaka grew jealous, as he ever did when he saw one of
his chiefs increase in power and influence. He sent Umzilikazi upon war
expeditions, in the hope of procuring his death, and when this failed,
and our chief returned covered with greater glory than ever, the King
tried another plan. He declared we had hidden the best of the spoil,
had sent the best of the cattle and captives away into the mountains,
and an _impi_ was ordered out, to take us unawares and destroy us.
"But not thus were we to be taken. Such a move had been expected, and
for some time previously Umzilikazi had been sending men to explore the
passes of the mountains--the great Kwahlamba range--which shut us in
behind as with great rocky walls; hither, too, our cattle and women were
sent. The while our chief had been talking to the heads of the
different clans which made up his following, and his talking had fallen
upon ready ears. There were fair lands away beyond the mountains--lands
of waving grass and flowing streams and countless herds of game, lands
where dwelt tribes whose only destiny was to serve the all-powerful
Amazulu. They had only to cross the mountains and conquer those lands.
"The old men took snuff and listened, and saw that the words were wise.
To remain was certain death; to fly would mean possible safety and
wealth. The young men listened and gripped their weapons. The prospect
of conquering out a new kingdom, of the enemies we should meet and
slay--this it was that fired our blood. Besides, we would have gone
through flame at the bidding of our chief, who had led us so often to
victory. Moreover, it was darkly whispered that the iron yoke of
Tshaka, in the matter of earlier marriage being permitted, and
such-like, would be relaxed. So day by day, in batches, our women and
cattle were moved higher and higher up the mountain-passes, preparing
for flight; and we lay under arms, and ready to give our destroyers a
great deal of trouble when they should arrive. And in order that we
should be found thoroughly prepared, some of us younger men, fleet of
foot and strong of vision, were posted upon the lower heights of the
Kwahlamba, whence we could see for an enormous distance. At last the
day came.
"The sun had just risen, and was flooding the land with gold. It was a
clear morning, and entirely free from mist; and, seated there on my
lofty watch--pinnacle, I beheld a movement far away towards the rising
sun. I sprang to my feet and gazed eagerly forth. A curtain of cloud
was rising over the land-spreading higher and higher, rolling nearer and
nearer with great rapidity. Cloud? No. It was a curtain of dust.
"So immense was the space spread out beneath me that it seemed as though
I could see over the whole world. On swept this great dust-cloud, still
at an enormous distance, but nearing rapidly every moment. And then I
knew what caused it. That dust-cloud was stirred up by countless herds
of game fleeing in panic and terror. Then I called to my brother, who
sprang upon the rock beside me.
"`Look, Sekweni! Yonder the game is in full flight. Yonder are the
Zulu spears. The King's _impi_ is coming!'
"We stood for a little while longer, watching the dust-cloud till we
could see among it rolling, tumbling forms.
"`Go now, Sekweni, and cry aloud the news from post to post,' I said.
`I go to warn Umzilikazi, our father.'
"And as I sprang down the mountain-side, leaping from stone to stone,
from crag to crag, with the surefootedness and fleetness of a buck, long
before I reached the level I could see the flash and glitter of sparks
of flame through the towering dust-cloud, extending in a great line over
the plain. It was the glitter of innumerable spears. The host
advancing behind those flying game herds--advancing to destroy us--was
as the whole of Tshaka's army.
"How I ran! There was none who could run against me in those days,
_Nkose_. With head down, and panting for breath, yet far from being
exhausted, I rushed into the presence of Umzilikazi.
"`Greeting, father!' I cried. `They are at hand!'
"`Ha!' And the battle-light we who had followed him knew so well came
into the face of our chief.
"`How many regiments do they number, son of Ntelani?' he said, taking
snuff.
"`I know not, O my father. But it seems to me that half [this would
mean about 20,000 men] of the army of the Great King is advancing upon
us.'
"`And we number but half that. Well, Untuswa, get you back to your
watching-place with six others being young and swiftfooted, and send
them as messengers as there shall be aught to report. Go now!'
"I saluted the chief and bounded away like a buck. But when I had
regained the mountain height with the youths whom I had chosen as
runners, lo! the army of Tshaka spread out black on all hands, covering
the ground as it were a swarm of young locusts--sweeping on now in a
huge half-circle as it were of the black waves of the sea.
"But our leader had mustered his fighting strength, and was rapidly
moving up to the place he had fixed upon as his battle-ground. This was
to be the entrance of the pass by which our flight should continue, for
there, the lay of the ground being high and steep, a few determined
fighters could repel the attacks of many; and besides this, another
species of defence had been organised by the strategy and forethought of
our chief.
"I saw the huge _impi_ surround and burst upon our principal kraals, and
I laughed aloud, for in them none remained save the very old. These
were put to the assegai in a moment, and then our intending destroyers
held on their way to where our warriors awaited them, on the steep sides
of the pass I have described, concealed by thick bush. But they could
not believe that we meant fighting. All they had to do was to overtake
us and slaughter us as we fled. How mistaken they were--ah, yes, how
mistaken!
"For as the foremost of their host streamed carelessly forward, not
waiting for its supports, our chief gave the word, and immediately from
the bush which flanked the way on either side there poured two large
bodies of our younger and most fiery warriors, to the number of about
two thousand. The advance guard of the King's _impi_, taken thus by
surprise and also in flank, was thrown into utter confusion. But ah!
while it lasted, it was as though two seas had met--the shock and the
surging, the crash of shields and the splintering of spears, the roars
and the hissing of the war-whistles! Ha! they fought--ah, yes, they
fought; but we rolled them back, crushed and scattered, upon the main
body, and before it could charge forward we were in position again, this
time higher up the pass. But the ground was covered with the dead.
"`My children are young lions indeed! The first blow struck for a new
kingdom is a hard one.'
"Such was the word which our chief caused to be passed round for our
encouragement.
"Still the King's _impi_ could not understand that we intended seriously
to give battle; and indeed, as we gazed forth upon this immense sea of
tossing spears and tufted shields rolling up towards us, it was little
to be wondered at. For we were as a mouthful to it. Yet every man of
us was fighting for his life, and under such circumstances the meanest
of animals will show bravery. But yet we were fighting for something
more--for freedom, for the pride of setting up a new nation.
"On they came, those waves of a living sea, and the earth shook beneath
the rumble of their tread; the air rustled with the hissing of their
plumes. And as they advanced they raised the great battle-song of
Tshaka, its echoes tossing like thunder from cliff to cliff:--
"`Waqeda--qeda izizwe!
Uyauhlasela pi-na?'
"`Thou hast made an end--made an end of the nations.
Whither now wilt thou maraud?'"
"Above was the narrow opening of the pass, and between, for a little
distance, a well-nigh open space. Here we met them hand to hand; here
we held them back, while those behind pressed them onward by sheer force
of weight. Foot by foot we met them, forced slowly back, but ever with
our faces toward them. The ground was wet with blood, alive with
falling, writhing bodies. The heights rang back our screams of rage,
our defiant war-cries, and the clangour of our blows. Foot by foot we
gave way; but they never got above us, never got around us. Thus shone
forth the generalship of our chief in choosing this for our
fighting-ground.
"Above us the pass narrowed to a steep rock-gateway overhung by lofty
<DW72>s. Suddenly, at the signal of a loud, sharp whistle, our men
ceased the fight as though slain, and, turning, sprang into retreat,
pouring through this great natural door. With a roar the king's _impi_
dashed forward in pursuit, then paused in obedience to the mandate of
its leaders, who suspected a snare.
"But only for a moment did it thus halt. The mighty mass of our
would-be destroyers surged up the pass and began to stream through the
narrow defile. On they came, shouting ever the battle-cry; and
then--_Whau, Nkose_! you should have soon what happened! It was as
though the mountains were falling in upon us. For from either side
great masses of rock came crashing down the <DW72>s--enormous blocks of
stone--some splitting into fragments as they bounded and rolled, others
crashing, in their stupendous size, upon the warriors of Tshaka. These
in dismay tried to draw back, but could not, for the weight of those
behind pressed them on; failing in this, they bounded forward, and our
assegais were there to receive them, while all the time the rolling
rocks were crashing down upon their rear, filling up the entire mouth of
the gap. We had shut back the army of Tshaka as it were by a gate. The
great pile of rocks which filled the gap was far too high for men to
leap over, too loose to be pulled down, lest the entire mass should fall
upon and crush them. Such was the strategy of our chief.
"And now upon those of our enemies who were thus walled in with us there
bore down the whole of our force, led by Umzilikazi in person. Those of
us who were in flight turned, re-formed, and sprang like lightning to
the charge; while others of us, who had been lying concealed, leaped
from our ambush, and, forming a dense half-circle, we rushed upon the
warriors of Tshaka. These were about two thousand, we being four times
their number. But, encouraged by the roars of their brethren on the
other side, they stood their ground. _Whau_! it was like a contest of
lions! When we whirled down upon them they met us in full shock; about
them there was no giving way. But by the time a man might have counted
a hundred, nigh half their number had fallen; but we, too, had lost
fearfully. In the same time again there would not have been one left,
when Umzilikazi, waving his great shield, cried, in tones of thunder, to
give them a truce.
"`Yield, Gungana!' he cried to the _induna_ in command. `Yield, men of
Tshaka! To fight on is death; to return to the king is death. We go to
find a new kingdom. Join us--for it is better to live than to die.'
"`Thou sayest truly, son of Matyobane,' replied Gungana, after a moment
of hesitation. Many, too, were there in that body who in their hearts
favoured Umzilikazi, and were tired of the hard rule of Tshaka. If they
went back to the King with their task unperformed, or badly performed,
certain death awaited, and from the stout resistance we had made they
deemed our force to be greater than it was. So the warriors agreed to
accept their lives and come under our chief.
"This settled, we resumed our flight. And with this new accession to
our fighting strength, we moved up the pass, singing back at those who
would have followed, in derision, the war-song of Tshaka, but altered
to, `We go to find new nations to conquer.' Then it grew dark, but
still we pressed on to where our women and cattle were awaiting us
higher up, and, marching through the night, the next morning we gained
the other side of the mountains.
"Then it was as the word of our chief had promised us. Fair and rolling
plains lay beneath us, stretching as far as the eye could behold, dotted
with kraals and cattle, and away in the distance coursed herds of game--
elands and springboks and gnus and many other kinds. Then our eyes and
our hearts were glad, and great and mighty was the acclamation with
which we greeted him who had thus led us forth, and with one voice we
all cried the royal `Bayete!' A new nation hailed Umzilikazi as King."
CHAPTER TWO.
THE KING'S PROMISE.
"We saw no more of Tshaka's _impi_. Perhaps it was that a great cloud
came upon the mountains after our passage and rested there for days, and
they attempted to follow, and failed because of the darkness and the
mist, or refrained from following at all. Anyhow, this cloud came, as I
have said, and all men hailed it as a good omen and that Umzilikazi's
_muti_ [Medicine, mystery, magic. In this sense, the latter] had caused
it to gather thus, in order that we might evade further pursuit.
"But as we swept down upon this new land like a swarm of devastating
locusts--ah, the terror of its people! The report was cried from kraal
to kraal that the great Zulu sea had overflowed the mountains, and was
sweeping on to engulf all within the black fury of its wrath. Wherefore
soon we found nothing but empty kraals, whose people had fled, but we
took their cattle and their grain, and laughed and went on. Then, as
our march progressed further and further, we began to find kraals which
were not empty, and whose people had neglected to remove out of our
destroying path. _Au_! it was something to see the faces of these as we
sprang upon them with our fierce, roaring war-shout, which was as the
thunders of heaven. Their faces were those of men already dead, and
dead they soon were, for our spears devoured them as they stood, or as
they lay, screaming for mercy. But mercy was no part of our plan in
those days--not that Umzilikazi loved bloodshed for its own sake, or was
wantonly cruel, as some of the white men say, but it was necessary to
stamp out all the people in our path, to leave none behind who should
say to Tshaka's _impis_ pursuing us: `This way has Umzilikazi gone.' So
a broad trail of fire and blood marked our course, which, indeed, a man
might trace by watching the clouds of vultures aloft in the heavens.
But time went on, and we moved further and further from Zululand, and
still no pursuit.
"Now, of all this killing I and many others of the younger warriors soon
grew tired. It was too much like cattle-slaying, falling upon these
unresisting people, who had no fight in them. What we desired was to
meet an enemy in arms, and some, fired with all this blood-shedding,
even whispered of turning back to meet the _impis_ of Tshaka in fair
fight. However, when we came near the country of the Basutu we got
fighting enough, for these people were brave, and though they would not
meet us in the open, would retire to their cliff dwellings and hill
forts and resist us fiercely, studding the approaches to their
strongholds with assegai points to cut our feet and legs to pieces as we
drew near, or rolling down showers of rocks upon us, so that we must
flee or be crushed. This sort of fighting was not to our tastes, and we
would taunt them and call them cowards for skulking behind rocks instead
of coming forth to meet us in the open, man to man; and yet they were
not cowards, for every race has its own method of fighting--besides, had
not we ourselves adopted that very plan?--and the Basutu were brave
enough in their own way.
"At that time I had found great favour with the King, who had created my
father, Ntelani, one of his _indunas_. Boy as I was, I was tall and
straight and active, and afraid of nothing. I could outstrip the
fastest runner among us, and, indeed, all the younger ones were ordered
to compete in foot-racing, both short and long distances. I was first
in all these, and the King appointed me his chief messenger. I was
incorporated into his bodyguard, and was never far from the King's
person. Indeed, he would often talk with me alone, as though I were his
son; and being young and unthinking in those days, I soon began to fancy
myself a much bigger man than my own father. So one day I went boldly
to the King, and asked leave to _tunga_ [Literally `sew' the head-ring;
i.e., to marry], for by this time we had many women-captives among us,
over and above those we had been able to bring with us from Zululand.
"Umzilikazi burst out laughing.
"`What!' he said. `You, a boy--a mere child yesterday--thinking to
_tunga_! Go, go! You are fleet of foot, Untuswa, but I have never
heard that you had done anything especially brave--braver than your
fellows, that is. What claim, then, have you to sue for the privilege
which is granted to tried warriors alone?'
"`Give me but the chance, O King; give me but the chance!' I cried. `I
will surpass everyone for valour, for I know not what fear is.'
"Umzilikazi had abandoned his good-humoured laugh. He now looked grave,
even severe. In truth, I knew I was doing a bold thing in daring so
much as to reply upon `the word' of the King. It was an act which might
have cost many a man his life. Yet there I stood, about ten paces from
him, in a slightly bent attitude of humility, but meeting his gaze full
and fearlessly.
"`Do you presume upon the favour I have ever shown you, Untuswa?' he
said sternly. `Do you perchance forget that the slayers are ever within
hail?'
"`I lie beneath the foot of the King--the Great Elephant whose tread
shaketh the world,' I replied, launching into the most extravagant of
_bonga_ [Acclamatory praise, as applied to the King], but still meeting
his threatening gaze unquailingly.
"`I believe you speak truly, boy, and that you do not know fear,' he
answered, `eke you had not dared to stand before me thus. Well now,
this is my "word": Go and distinguish yourself; perform some act bolder
than any I have ever heard tell of. Then, child as you are, you shall
wear the head-ring--because are you not, after all, my chief runner?'
"`Who am I, to keep on filling the King's ears with words?' I said.
`But give me the chance to distinguish myself. Give me the chance,
Father!'
"`You must make the chance, Untuswa; you must make it for yourself. But
I say again, because you are my chief runner and my faithful servant, I
will do more for you than I would for many, O son of Ntelani. Perform
some act bolder than any act I have ever heard tell of, and you shall be
allowed to _tunga_. Not only that, but I will give you this _umkonto_
[The broad-bladed, short-handled assegai] which I hold in my hand, and
with it you shall lead my armies to battle. Now go.'
"I bent low to the earth, then straightened myself up, and with hand,
uplifted shouted:--
"`_Bayete_! I walk on air, O Elephant! for have I not the King's
promise?' Then I went out from the presence.
"You must know, _Nkose_, that in those days Umzilikazi was in the prime
of his youth and strength, being tall and active, and with the stamp of
a chief among chiefs. His countenance was noble and stately as that of
a lion, and in his unbending moments he had a way with him that bound us
to him in such wise that we, his younger warriors, would have died all
deaths at his word. For his rule was lighter than that of Tshaka. He,
like Tshaka, knew not fear, and was as daring and skilful a leader as
the great Zulu King; indeed, this it was that aroused the jealousy of
Tshaka, as I have told you, and led to the building up of a new nation.
And although, for necessity's sake, as regards other tribes, Umzilikazi
was ruthless and unsparing, among us, his followers, he was merciful, if
strict, and rarely spilt blood. Yet, while we loved him, we feared
him--oh yes, we feared him.
"Now, although I had the King's promise, I felt sorely perplexed; for
how was I to fulfil its conditions? For days and nights I thought and
dreamed of nought else; saying nothing, however, to my father, Ntelani,
who was already jealous of the great; favour Umzilikazi had shown me,
and might have devised some means of thwarting me.
"It happened that on the evening after I had obtained the King's promise
I was returning alone from a hunt. I was empty-handed; for although my
fleetness of foot enabled me to traverse long distances, yet game was
scarce in our neighbourhood, owing to the passage of such an immense
body of people, which had scared it. Tired and dispirited, I threw down
my assegais and small shield, and sank down against a rock to rest.
Suddenly my tawny, black-muzzled hound leaped up and dashed round the
rock with a growl. But this was soon changed to a whine of pleasure.
"Clearly the intruder was known to him. Raising my eyes, I beheld a
girl.
"I am an old man now, _Nkose_, and have lived to learn that women, like
assegais, are all made very much on the same lines--like assegais, are
keen and sharp to cut and destroy. But, old man as I am, I cannot even
now quite forget that evening after I had talked with the King.
"`Of what are your thoughts that they are so heavy, O son of Ntelani?'
she said, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
"I gazed upon her for a moment without replying; for I knew who she was,
though we had never before spoken. Picture to yourself, _Nkose_, a tall
fine girl--indeed, nearly as tall as myself--as straight as a
spear-shaft and as strong and firm as a yellow-wood tree, with large and
rounded limbs, and a face all sparkling with intelligence and mirth.
She was rather light-, though, and we Zulus, _Nkose_, prefer our
women very black.
"`Perhaps it was of you I was thinking, Nangeza,' I answered. `Is not
that enough to produce heavy thoughts?'
"`_Yau_!' she cried. `It may be that there are those who think the
reverse. _They_ do not feel heavy when their thoughts are of me | 3,146.882716 |
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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Settlers at Home, by Harriet Martineau.
________________________________________________________________________
This shortish novel first appeared in 1841, and was published in a
collection of the author's four short 1841 novels, "The Playfellow".
The scene is set in Lincolnshire, a part of England much of which is
flat and prone to flooding by the sea. It was drained in the 1600s by
Dutch engineers by the creation of drains and sea defences. To this day
part of the county is called Holland. After the draining the land was
leased by the King to various settlers from overseas, among whom were
the Linacres, the hero-family of this book. The King's enemies break
down the sea defences, and the land is flooded, with haystacks, mills
and barns floating away, farm animals drowning, and everyone in great
peril. By various mishaps the three Linacre children and a boy from a
roguish nomadic family, are deprived of the Linacre mother and father
just when they most need them, and find themselves in the care of
Ailwin, the strong and sturdy maid-of-all-work. Before they can get
reunited with the parents, Geordie, the weakly two-year-old, dies, and
they have various struggles for survival, with foul water killing many
of the animals they would rely on for food. At last help comes in the
form of the local pastor, who has enlisted the aid of some men to row
him to wherever he is needed.
This book is pretty strong reading, and probably more of a tragedy than
any other category.
________________________________________________________________________
THE SETTLERS AT HOME, BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE SETTLERS AT HOME.
Two hundred years ago, the Isle of Axholme was one of the most
remarkable places in England. It is not an island in the sea. It is a
part of Lincolnshire--a piece of land hilly in the middle, and
surrounded by rivers. The Trent runs on the east side of it; and some
smaller rivers formerly flowed round the rest of it, joining the Humber
to the north. These rivers carried down a great deal of mud with them
to the Humber, and the tides of the Humber washed up a great deal of
sea-sand into the mouths of the rivers; so that the waters could not for
some time flow freely, and were at last prevented from flowing away at
all: they sank into the ground, and made a swamp of it--a swamp of many
miles round the hilly part of the Isle of Axholme.
This swamp was long a very dismal place. Fish, and water-birds, and
rats inhabited it: and here and there stood the hut of a fowler; or a
peat-stack raised by the people who lived on the hills round, and who
obtained their fuel from the peat-lands in the swamp. There were also,
sprinkled over the district, a few very small houses--cells belonging to
the Abbey of Saint Mary, at York. To these cells some of the monks from
Saint Mary's had been fond of retiring, in old times, for meditation and
prayer, and doing good in the district round; but when the soil became
so swampy as to give them the ague as often as they paid a visit to
these cells, the monks left off their practice of retiring hither; and
their little dwellings stood empty, to be gradually overgrown with green
moss and lank weeds, which no hand cleared away.
At last a Dutchman, having seen what wonders were done in his own
country by good draining, thought he could render this district fit to
be inhabited and cultivated; and he made a bargain with the king about
it. After spending much money, and taking great pains, he succeeded.
He drew the waters off into new channels, and kept them there by
sluices, and by carefully watching the embankments he had raised. The
land which was left dry was manured and cultivated, till, instead of a
reedy and mossy swamp, there were fields of clover and of corn, and
meadows of the finest grass, with cattle and sheep grazing in large
numbers. The dwellings that were still standing were made into
farm-houses, and new farmhouses were built. A church here, and a chapel
there was cleaned, and warmed, and painted, and opened for worship; and
good roads crossed the district into all the counties near.
Instead of being pleased with this change, the people of the country
were angry and discontented. Those who lived near had been long
accustomed to fishing and fowling in the swamp, without paying any rent,
or having to ask anybody's leave. They had no mind now to settle to the
regular toilsome business of farming,--and to be under a landlord, to
whom they must pay rent. Probably, too, they knew nothing about
farming, and would have failed in it if they had tried. Thus far they
were not to be blamed. But nothing can exceed the malignity with which
they treated the tenants who did settle in the isle, and the spiteful
spirit which they showed towards them, on every occasion.
These tenants were chiefly foreigners. There was a civil war in England
at that time: and the Yorkshire and Lincolnshire people were so much
engaged in fighting for King Charles or for the Parliament, that fewer
persons were at liberty to undertake new farms than there would have
been in a time of peace. When the Dutchman and his companions found
that the English were not disposed to occupy the Levels (as the drained
lands were called), they encouraged some of their own countrymen to come
over. With them arrived some few Frenchmen, who had been driven from
France into Holland, on account of their being Protestants. From first
to last, there were about two hundred families, Dutch and French,
settled in the Levels. Some were collected into a village, and had a
chapel opened, where a pastor of their own performed service for them.
Others were scattered over the district, living just where their
occupations required them to settle.
All these foreigners were subject to bad treatment from their
neighbours; but the stragglers were the worst off; because it was
easiest to tease and injure those who lived alone. The disappointed
fishers and fowlers gave other reasons for their own conduct, besides
that of being nearly deprived of their fishing and fowling. These
reasons were all bad, as reasons for hating always are. One excuse was
that the new settlers were foreigners--as if those who were far from
their own land did not need particular hospitality and kindness.
Another plea was that they were connected with the king, by being
settled on the lands which he had bargained to have drained: so that all
who sided with the parliament ought to injure the new tenants, in order
to annoy the king. If the settlers had tried to serve the king by
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Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
UNDERSTOOD BETSY
BY
DOROTHY CANFIELD
Author of "The Bent Twig," etc.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
ADA C. WILLIAMSON
[Illustration: Uncle Henry looked at her, eyeing her sidewise over the
top of one spectacle glass. (Page 34)]
CONTENTS
I Aunt Harriet Has a Cough
II Betsy Holds the Reins
III A Short Morning
IV Betsy Goes to School
V What Grade is Betsy?
VI If You Don't Like Conversation in a Book Skip this Chapter!
VII Elizabeth Ann Fails in an Examination
VIII Betsy Starts a Sewing Society
IX The New Clothes Fail
X Betsy Has a Birthday
XI "Understood Aunt Frances"
ILLUSTRATIONS
Uncle Henry looked at her, eying her sidewise
over the top of one spectacle-glass Frontispiece
Elizabeth Ann stood up before the doctor.
"Do you know," said Aunt Abigail, "I think
it's going to be real nice, having a little girl
in the house again"
She had greatly enjoyed doing her own hair.
"Oh, he's asking for more!" cried Elizabeth Ann
Betsy shut her teeth together hard, and started across
"What's the matter, Molly? What's the matter?"
Betsy and Ellen and the old doll
He had fallen asleep with his head on his arms
Never were dishes washed better!
Betsy was staring down at her shoes, biting her
lips and winking her eyes
CHAPTER I
AUNT HARRIET HAS A COUGH
When this story begins, Elizabeth Ann, who is the heroine of it, was a
little girl of nine, who lived with her Great-aunt Harriet in a
medium-sized city in a medium-sized State in the middle of this country;
and that's all you need to know about the place, for it's not the
important thing in the story; and anyhow you know all about it because
it was probably very much like the place you live in yourself.
Elizabeth Ann's Great-aunt Harriet was a widow who was not very rich or
very poor, and she had one daughter, Frances, who gave piano lessons to
little girls. They kept a "girl" whose name was Grace and who had asthma
dreadfully and wasn't very much of a "girl" at all, being nearer fifty
than forty. Aunt Harriet, who was very tender-hearted, kept her chiefly
because she couldn't get any other place on account of her coughing so
you could hear her all over the house.
So now you know the names of all the household. And this is how they
looked: Aunt Harriet was very small and thin and old, Grace was very
small and thin and middle-aged, Aunt Frances (for Elizabeth Ann called
her "Aunt," although she was really, of course, a
first-cousin-once-removed) was small and thin and if the light wasn't
too strong might be called young, and Elizabeth Ann was very small and
thin and little. And yet they all had plenty to eat. I wonder what was
the matter with them?
It was certainly not because they were not good, for no womenkind in all
the world had kinder hearts than they. You have heard how Aunt Harriet
kept Grace (in spite of the fact that she was a very depressing person)
on account of her asthma; and when Elizabeth Ann's father and mother
both died when she was a baby, although there were many other cousins
and uncles and aunts in the family, these two women fairly rushed upon
the little baby-orphan, taking her home and surrounding her henceforth
with the most loving devotion.
They had said to themselves that it was their manifest duty to save the
dear little thing from the other relatives, who had no idea about how to
bring up a sensitive, impressionable child, and they were sure, from the
way Elizabeth Ann looked at six months, that she was going to be a
sensitive, impressionable child. It is possible also that they were a
little bored with their empty life in their rather forlorn, little brick
house in the medium-sized city, and that they welcomed the occupation
and new interests which a child would bring in.
But they thought that they chiefly desired to save dear Edward's child
from the other kin, especially from the Putney cousins, who had written
down from their Vermont farm that they would be glad to take the little
girl into their family. But "ANYTHING but the Putneys!" said Aunt
Harriet, a great many times. They were related only by marriage to her,
and she had her own opinion of them as a stiffnecked, cold-hearted,
undemonstrative, and hard set of New Englanders. "I boarded near them
one summer when you were a baby, Frances, and I shall never forget the
way they were treating some children visiting there!... Oh, no, I don't
mean they abused them or beat them... but such lack of sympathy, such
perfect indifference to the sacred sensitiveness of child-life, such a
starving of the child-heart... No, I shall never forget it! They had
chores to do... as though they had been hired men!"
Aunt Harriet never meant to say any of this when Elizabeth Ann could
hear, but the little girl's ears were as sharp as little girls' ears
always are, and long before she was nine she knew all about the opinion
Aunt Harriet had of the Putneys. She did not know, to be sure, what
"chores" were, but she took it confidently from Aunt Harriet's voice
that they were something very, very dreadful.
There was certainly neither coldness nor hardness in the way Aunt
Harriet and Aunt Frances treated Elizabeth Ann. They had really given
themselves up to the new responsibility, especially Aunt Frances, who
was very conscientious about everything. As soon as the baby came there
to live, Aunt Frances stopped reading novels and magazines, and re-read
one book after another which told her how to bring up children. And she
joined a Mothers' Club which met once a week. And she took a
correspondence course in mothercraft | 3,146.901683 |
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RURAL PROBLEMS OF TODAY
RURAL PROBLEMS OF TODAY
ERNEST R. GROVES
_Author of "Moral Sanitation," "Using the Resources of
the Country Church," etc._
ASSOCIATION PRESS
NEW YORK: 124 EAST 28TH STREET
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
THE INTERNATIONAL COMMITTEE OF
THE YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATIONS
TO
GLADYS HOAGLAND
WHOSE UNSELFISH AND INTELLIGENT CARE OF
CATHERINE AND ERNESTINE
HAS JUSTIFIED THE ABSOLUTE CONFIDENCE
OF THEIR MOTHER
PREFACE
This book is written for the men and women who love the country and are
interested in its social welfare. Fortunately there are many such, and
each year their number is increasing.
Rural life has as many sides as there are human interests. This book
looks out upon country-life conditions from a viewpoint comparatively
neglected. It attempts to approach rural social life from the
psychological angle. The purpose of the book forces it from the
well-beaten pathways, but this effort to give emphasis to the mental
side of rural problems is not an attempt to discount the other
significant aspects of the rural environment. The field of rural service
is large enough to contain all who desire by serious study to advance at
some point the happiness, prosperity, and wholesomeness that belong by
social right to those who live and work in the country.
The author desires to thank the following for the privilege of using
material previously published: American Sociological Society, _American
Journal of Sociology_, National Conference of Social Work, Association
Press, and _Rural Manhood_.
E. R. G.
Durham, N. H.
April 1, 1918.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE vii
I. THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY HOME 1
II. THE FAMILY IN OUR COUNTRY LIFE 15
III. THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY SCHOOLS 41
IV. THE COUNTRY CHURCH AND THE RURAL WORKER 53
V. MENTAL HYGIENE IN RURAL DISTRICTS 71
VI. THE SOCIAL VALUE OF RURAL EXPERIENCE 89
VII. RURAL VS. URBAN ENVIRONMENT 103
VIII. THE MIND OF THE FARMER 117
IX. PSYCHIC CAUSES OF RURAL MIGRATION 135
X. RURAL SOCIALIZING AGENCIES 149
XI. THE WORLD-WAR AND RURAL LIFE 169
THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY HOME
I
THE RURAL WORKER AND THE COUNTRY HOME
With reference to the care of children, faulty homes may be divided into
two classes. There are homes that give the children too little care and
there are homes that give them too much. The failure of the first type
of home is obvious. Children need a great deal of wise, patient, and
kindly care. Even the lower animals require, when domesticated,
considerable care from their owners, if they are to be successfully
brought from infancy to maturity. Of course children need greater care.
No one doubts this. And yet it is certainly true that there are, even in
these days of widespread intelligence, many homes where the children
obtain too little care and in one way or another are seriously
neglected.
The harmfulness of the homes that give their children too much care is
not so generally realized as is the danger of the careless and selfish
home, although, in a general way, everyone acknowledges that children
may be given too much attention. The difficulty is to determine when a
particular child is being given too much adult supervision and too
little freedom. No one would question the fact that a child can become
an adult only by a decrease of adult control and an increase of personal
responsibility. Nevertheless, in spite of a general belief that a child
needs an opportunity to win self-government, there are parents not a few
who, from love and anxiety, run into the danger of protecting and
controlling their children too much. The father or mother spends too
much time with the children. The children are pampered. Too many
indulgences are permitted them. Children in these over-careful homes are
likely to grow up neurotic, conceited, timid, babyish, daydreaming men
and women, who are of little use in the world and are often a serious
problem for normal people. Probably this second type of a deficient home
is more dangerous than the first, for children without sufficient home
care often discover a substitute for their loss, but the over-protected
children can obtain no antidote for their misfortune.
Everyone knows that attacks are increasingly being made upon the home in
its present form by people who regard it as inefficient or as an
anachronism. It is usually thought, however, that these attacks come
mostly from agitators who set themselves more or less in opposition to
all the institutions established by the present social order. Perhaps
for this reason many do not believe that the family is receiving any
serious criticism and its satisfactory functioning is therefore taken
for granted. Such an easy-going optimism is not justified, for criticism
of the home is coming from science as well as from the agitators. For
example read "The Deforming Influences of the Home," by Dr. Helen W.
Brown, which appeared in the _Journal of Abnormal Psychology_ for April,
1917. She writes in one place as follows:
"Small wonder, then, if we begin to see that many of the mental ills
that afflict men are not due, as has been commonly supposed, to lack of
home training and the deteriorating influence of the world, but to too
much home, to a narrow environment which has often deformed his mind at
the start and given him a bias that can only be overcome through painful
adjustments and bitter experience."
The psychoanalysts and the clinic psychologists are gathering material
all the time that illustrates the bad results of home influences, and
soon the agitator will be using this as proof of the harmfulness of the
home as an institution. Some of us believe that no skepticism can be
more dangerous socially than that relating to the value of the home. The
best protection of the home must come from its moral efficiency and this
cannot be obtained if people are unwilling to face reasonable and
constructive criticism of the present working of the home. It is natural
for the adult looking backward to his childhood to assume too much for
the home, and then to transfer his emotion and his sense of the value of
his home experience to the present family as an institution. With this
enormous prejudice he refuses to see how often the family influence is
morally and socially bad. It would surprise such a person at least to
read | 3,146.97952 |
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scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Books project.)
AN ABSTRACT
OF THE
PROCEEDINGS OF THE SELECT COMMITTEE
OF THE
HOUSE OF COMMONS,
APPOINTED SESSION, 1849,
TO INQUIRE INTO THE CONTRACT PACKET SERVICE;
IN SO FAR AS THE SAME RELATES TO THE
PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL STEAM
NAVIGATION COMPANY;
WITH AN
INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT AND REMARKS.
Presented to the Court of Directors.
ABSTRACTED AND PRINTED FOR THE INFORMATION OF
THE PROPRIETORS OF THE COMPANY.
_November, 1849._
As the circumstances connected with the origin and progress of the
Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, and particularly with
its employment in the Contract Mail Packet Service, are but imperfectly
known to a great proportion of the present Proprietors; for their
better information it has been deemed advisable by the Directors to
authorise the printing and circulation of the following Statement and
Abstract.
References, it will be found, are occasionally made to parts of the
proceedings of the Select Committee of the House of Commons, which have
not been printed in this pamphlet, because they would have rendered it
too bulky for convenient perusal. But those who may wish to examine
these proceedings at length, can procure the Parliamentary Blue Book at
Hansard’s offices for the sale of Parliamentary Papers.
AN ABSTRACT,
_&c., &c._
In their last Report, presented to the Proprietors at the general
meeting held on the 31st of May last, the Directors stated that a
Committee of the House of Commons had been appointed, “to inquire
into the Contract Packet Service;” and expressed “their satisfaction
that such an inquiry had been instituted, feeling, as they did, that
as far as the interests of this Company were concerned, it would have
a beneficial tendency, by eliciting facts connected with the origin
and progress of the Company, and its employment in the Contract Mail
Service, which could not fail to show the important national benefits
which it has been the means of realising, and its consequent claim to
public support.”
It is no doubt known to some Proprietors of the Company, that for
several years past statements have been made, and circulated with
untiring pertinacity, to the effect, that the Contracts made by the
Government with this Company for the Mail Packet Service had been
obtained through undue favouritism, or corrupt jobbing[1]--that fair
competition had been denied to other parties,--and that the Company
had, in consequence, obtained a much larger remuneration for the
Service than ought to have been given, and were deriving enormous
profits from it.
Although the Directors were aware that these misstatements had obtained
some attention, even in influential quarters, they probably did not
consider it was consistent with the eminent position which the Company
occupies to take any legal proceedings against, or to enter into any
public controversy with, the parties who had been chiefly instrumental
in propagating them.
The forbearance of the Directors has led to a highly satisfactory
result. The continued propagation of these misstatements at last
attracted the attention of a member of the House of Commons so far as
to induce that honourable gentleman to move for a Select Committee to
inquire into the Contract Packet Service.
Although the Committee was moved for and appointed ostensibly to
inquire into the Service generally, its principal object was, as is
sufficiently obvious from its proceedings, to investigate the Contracts
and transactions of the Peninsular and Oriental Company. And the
earlier part of the proceedings of the Committee also show that the
honourable mover and Chairman of it, actuated, no doubt, by a sense
of public duty, entertained, at first, no very friendly views on the
subject in reference to this Company.
The facts elicited in the course of the inquiry, and the glaring
self-contradictions exhibited by the principal witness, when brought to
the test of an examination before the Committee, as well as the hostile
tone adopted by him towards this Company, appear, however, to have
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CHILDREN'S RIGHTS
_A BOOK OF NURSERY LOGIC_
BY
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
"A court as of angels,
A public not to be bribed.
Not to be entreated,
Not to be overawed."
1892
PREFATORY NOTE
I am indebted to the Editors of Scribner's Magazine, the Cosmopolitan,
and Babyhood, for permission to reprint the three essays which have
appeared in their pages. The others are published for the first time.
It may be well to ward off the full seriousness of my title "Nursery
Logic" by saying that a certain informality in all of these papers
arises from the fact that they were originally talks given before
members of societies interested in the training of children.
Three of them--"Children's Stories," "How Shall we Govern our
Children," and "The Magic of 'Together'"--have been written for this
book by my sister, Miss Nora Smith.
K.D.W.
NEW YORK, _August_, 1892.
CONTENTS
THE RIGHTS OF THE CHILD
CHILDREN'S PLAYS
CHILDREN'S PLAYTHINGS
WHAT SHALL CHILDREN READ?
CHILDREN'S STORIES. _Nora A. Smith_
THE RELATION OF THE KINDERGARTEN TO SOCIAL REFORM
HOW SHALL WE GOVERN OUR CHILDREN? _Nora A. Smith_
THE MAGIC OF "TOGETHER." _Nora A. Smith_.
THE RELATION OF THE KINDERGARTEN TO THE PUBLIC SCHOOL
OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN
THE RIGHTS OF THE CHILD
"Give me liberty, or give me death!"
The subject of Children's Rights does not provoke much sentimentalism
in this country, where, as somebody says, the present problem of the
children is the painless extinction of their elders. I interviewed
the man who washes my windows, the other morning, with the purpose of
getting at the level of his mind in the matter.
"Dennis," I said, as he was polishing the glass, "I am writing an
article on the 'Rights of Children.' What do you think about it?"
Dennis carried his forefinger to his head in search of an idea, for he
is not accustomed to having his intelligence so violently assaulted,
and after a moment's puzzled thought he said, "What do I think about
it, mum? Why, I think we'd ought to give 'em to 'em. But Lor', mum,
if we don't, they _take_ 'em, so what's the odds?" And as he left the
room I thought he looked pained that I should spin words and squander
ink on such a topic.
The French dressmaker was my next victim. As she fitted the collar of
an effete civilization on my nineteenth century neck, I put the same
question I had given to Dennis.
"The rights of the child, madame?" she asked, her scissors poised in
air.
"Yes, the rights of the child."
"Is it of the American child, madame?"
"Yes," said I nervously, "of the American child."
"Mon Dieu! he has them!"
This may well lead us to consider rights as opposed to privileges. A
multitude of privileges, or rather indulgences, can exist with a total
disregard of the child's rights. You remember the man who said he
could do without necessities if you would give him luxuries enough.
The child might say, "I will forego all my privileges, if you will
only give me my rights: a little less sentiment, please,--more
justice!" There are women who live in perfect puddles of maternal
love, who yet seem incapable of justice; generous to a fault, perhaps,
but seldom just.
_Who owns the child_? If the parent owns him,--mind, body, and soul,
we must adopt one line of argument; if, as a human being, he owns
himself, we must adopt another. In my thought the parent is simply a
divinely appointed guardian, who acts for his child until he attains
what we call the age of discretion,--that highly uncertain period
which arrives very late in life with some persons, and not at all with
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THE DAY'S WORK
By Rudyard Kipling
CONTENTS
THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS
A WALKING DELEGATE
THE SHIP THAT FOUND HERSELF
THE TOMB OF HIS ANCESTORS
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP SEA
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR
.007
THE MALTESE CAT
BREAD UPON THE WATERS
AN ERROR IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION
MY SUNDAY AT HOME
THE BRUSHWOOD BOY
THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS
The least that Findlayson, of the Public Works Department, expected was
a C. I. E.; he dreamed of a C. S. I.: indeed, his friends told him
that he deserved more. For three years he had endured heat and cold,
disappointment, discomfort, danger, and disease, with responsibility
almost too heavy for one pair of shoulders; and day by day, through that
time, the great Kashi Bridge over the Ganges had grown under his charge.
Now, in less than three months, if all went well, his Excellency the
Viceroy would open the bridge in state, an archbishop would bless it,
and the first trainload of soldiers would come over it, and there would
be speeches.
Findlayson, C. E., sat in his trolley on a construction line that ran
along one of the main revetments--the huge stone-faced banks that flared
away north and south for three miles on either side of the river--and
permitted himself to think of the end. With its approaches, his work was
one mile and three-quarters fin length; a lattice-girder bridge, trussed
with the Findlayson truss, standing on seven-and-twenty brick pies. Each
one of those piers was twenty-four feet in diameter, capped with red
Agra stone and sunk eighty feet below the shifting sand of the Ganges'
bed. Above them was a railway-line fifteen feet broad; above that,
again, a cart-road of eighteen feet, flanked with footpaths. At either
end rose towers of red brick, loopholed for musketry and pierced for
big guns, and the ramp of the road was being pushed forward to their
haunches. The raw earth-ends were crawling and alive with hundreds upon
hundreds of tiny asses climbing out of the yawning borrow-pit below with
sackfuls of stuff; and the hot afternoon air was filled with the
noise of hooves, the rattle of the drivers' sticks, and the swish and
roll-down of the dirt. The river was very low, and on the dazzling
white sand between the three centre piers stood squat cribs of
railway-sleepers, filled within and daubed without with mud, to support
the last of the girders as those were riveted up. In the little deep
water left by the drought, an overhead-crane travelled to and fro
along its spile-pier, jerking sections of iron into place, snorting and
backing and grunting as an elephant grunts in the timber-yard. Riveters
by the hundred swarmed about the lattice side-work and the iron roof of
the railway-line, hung from invisible staging under the bellies of
the girders, clustered round the throats of the piers, and rode on the
overhang of the footpath-stanchions; their fire-pots and the spurts of
flame that answered each hammer-stroke showing no more than pale
yellow in the sun's glare. East and west and north and south the
construction-trains rattled and shrieked up and down the embankments,
the piled trucks of brown and white stone banging behind them till the
side-boards were unpinned, and with a roar and a grumble a few thousand
tons more material were flung out to hold the river in place.
Findlayson, C. E., turned on his trolley and looked over the face of the
country that he had changed for seven miles around. Looked back on the
humming village of five thousand workmen; up stream and down, along the
vista of spurs and sand; across the river to the far piers, lessening
in the haze; overhead to the guard-towers--and only he knew how strong
those were--and with a sigh of contentment saw that his work was good.
There stood his bridge before him in the sunlight, lacking only a few
weeks' work on the girders of the three middle piers--his bridge, raw
and ugly as original sin, but pukka--permanent--to endure when all
memory of the builder, yea, even of the splendid Findlayson truss, had
perished. Practically, the thing was done.
Hitchcock, his assistant, cantered along the line on a little
switch-tailed Kabuli pony who through long practice could have trotted
securely over a trestle, and nodded to his chief.
"All but," said he, with a smile.
"I've been thinking about it," the senior answered. "Not half a bad job
for two men, is it?"
"One-and a half. Gad, what a Cooper's Hill cub I was when I came on the
works!" Hitchcock felt very old in the crowded experiences of the past
three years, that had taught him power and responsibility.
"You were rather a colt," said Findlayson. "I wonder how you'll like
going back to office-work when this job's over."
"I shall hate it!" said the young man, and as he went on his eye
followed Findlayson's, and he muttered, "Isn't it damned good?"
"I think we'll go up the service together," Findlayson said to himself.
"You're too good a youngster to waste on another man. Cub thou wart;
assistant thou art. Personal assistant, and at Simla, thou shalt be, if
any credit comes to me out of the business!"
Indeed; the burden of the work had fallen altogether on Findlayson and
his assistant, the young man whom he had chosen because of his rawness
to break to his own needs. There were labour contractors by the
half-hundred--fitters and riveters, European, borrowed from the railway
workshops, with, perhaps, twenty white and half-caste subordinates to
direct, under direction, the bevies of workmen--but none knew better
than these two, who trusted each other, how the underlings were not to
be trusted. They had been tried many times in sudden crises--by slipping
of booms, by breaking of tackle, failure of cranes, and the wrath of
the river--but no stress had brought to light any man among men whom
Findlayson and Hitchcock would have honoured by working as remorselessly
as they worked themselves. Findlayson thought it over from the
beginning: the months of office-work destroyed at a blow when the
Government of India, at the last moment, added two feet to the width of
the bridge, under the impression that bridges were cut out of paper, and
so brought to ruin at least half an acre of calculations--and Hitchcock,
new to disappointment, buried his head in his arms and wept; the
heart-breaking delays over the filling of the contracts in England; the
futile correspondences hinting at great wealth of commissions if one,
only one, rather doubtful consignment were passed; the war that followed
the refusal; the careful, polite obstruction at the other end that
followed the war, till young Hitchcock, putting one month's leave to
another month, and borrowing ten days from Findlayson, spent his poor
little savings of a year in a wild dash to London, and there, as his own
tongue asserted and the later consignments proved, put the fear of God
into a man so great that he feared only Parliament and said so till
Hitchcock wrought with him across his own dinner-table, and--he feared
the Kashi Bridge and all who spoke in its name. Then there was the
cholera that came in the night to the village by the bridge works; and
after the cholera smote the Smallpox. The fever they had always with
them. Hitchcock had been appointed a magistrate of the third class
with whipping powers, for the better government of the community, and
Findlayson watched him wield his powers temperately, learning what to
overlook and what to look after. It was a long, long reverie | 3,147.084857 |
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Produced by Meredith Bach, Rose Acquavella, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries.)
THE CANDY MAKER'S GUIDE
A COLLECTION OF
CHOICE RECIPES FOR SUGAR BOILING
COMPILED AND PUBLISHED BY
THE FLETCHER MNF'G. CO.
MANUFACTURERS OF
Confectioners' and Candy Makers' Tools and Machines
TEA AND COFFEE URNS
BAKERS' CONFECTIONERS AND HOTEL SUPPLIES
IMPORTERS AND DEALERS IN
PURE FRUIT JUICES,
FLAVORING EXTRACTS,
FRUIT OILS,
ESSENTIAL OILS,
MALT EXTRACT,
XXXX GLUCOSE, ETC.
[Illustration]
Prize Medal and Diploma awarded at Toronto Industrial Exhibition
1894, for General Excellence in Style and Finish of our goods.
440-442 YONGE ST.,--TORONTO, CAN.
TORONTO
J JOHNSTON PRINTER & STATIONER 105 CHURCH ST
1896
FLETCHER MNF'G. CO.
TORONTO.
Manufacturers and dealers in Generators, Steel and Copper Soda Water
Cylinders, Soda Founts, Tumbler Washers, Freezers, Ice Breaking
Machines, Ice Cream Refrigerators, Milk Shakers, Ice Shaves, Lemon
Squeezers, Ice Cream Cans, Packing Tubs, Flavoring Extracts, Golden and
Crystal Flake for making Ice Cream, Ice Cream Bricks and Forms, and
every article necessary for Soda Water and Ice Cream business.
INTRODUCTION.
In presenting this selection of choice recipes for Candy Makers we have
endeavored to avoid everything that is not practical and easy to
understand. The recipes given are from the most experienced and notable
candy makers of America and Europe, and are such, that, if followed out
with care and attention will be sure to lead to success. Practice is
only to be had by experiment, and little failures are overcome by
constant perseverance.
After the rudiments have been thoroughly mastered, the reader has ample
scope to distinguish himself in the Candy world, and will do so with
patience and perseverance. We trust our patrons will look upon this
work, not as a literary effort, but as instruction from a practical
workman to a would-be workman.
FLETCHER MNF'G. Co.,
440 & 442 Yonge St., Toronto,
Publishers.
Manufacturers of Candy Makers Tools and Machines, and every article
required in Confectionery and Candy Making.
ASK FOR OUR CATALOGUE.
SUGAR BOILING.
This branch of the trade or business of a confectioner is perhaps the
most important. All manufacturers are more or less interested in it, and
certainly no retail shop could be considered orthodox which did not
display a tempting variety of this class. So inclusive is the term
"boiled goods" that it embraces drops, rocks, candies, taffies, creams,
caramels, and a number of different sorts of hand-made, machine-made,
and moulded goods. It is the most ancient method of which we have any
knowledge, and perhaps the most popular process of modern times; the
evidence of our everyday experience convinces us that (notwithstanding
the boom which heralds from time to time a new sweet, cooked in a
different manner, composed of ingredients hitherto unused in business),
it is the exception when such goods hold the front rank for more than a
few months, however pretty, tasty, or tempting they may be, the public
palate seems to fall back on those made in the old lines which, though
capable of improvement, seem not to be superceded. Of the entire make of
confectionery in Canada, at least two-thirds of it may be written down
under the name of boiled sugar. They are undoubtedly the chief features
with both manufacturers and retailers, embracing, as they do, endless
facilities for fertile brains and deft fingers for inventing novelties
in design, manipulation, combination, and finish. Notwithstanding the
already great variety, there is always daily something new in this
department brought into market. Many of the most successful houses owe
their popularity more to their heads than their hands, hence the
importance of studying this branch in all its ramifications. The endless
assortment requiring different methods for preparing and manipulating
make it necessary to sub-divide this branch into sections, order and
arrangement being so necessary to be thoroughly understood. _When we
consider the few inexpensive tools required to make so many kinds of
saleable goods, it is not to be wondered at so many retailers have a
fancy to make their own toffees and such like, there is no reason why a
man or woman, with ordinary patience, a willing and energetic
disposition, favored with a fair amount of intelligence, should not be
able to become with the aid of THIS BOOK and a few dollars for tools,
fairly good sugar boilers, with a few months practice._
There are reasons why a retail confectioner should study sugar boiling.
It gives character to the business, a fascinating odour to the premises,
and a general at-homeness to the surroundings. No goods look more
attractive and tempting to the sweet eating public than fresh made goods
of this kind. A bright window can be only so kept by makers. Grainy or
| 3,147.191748 |
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Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny
THE GIRL WITH THE GOLDEN EYES
By Honore De Balzac
Translated by Ellen Marriage
PREPARER'S NOTE: The Girl with the Golden Eyes is the third part of a
trilogy. Part one is entitled Ferragus and part two is The Duchesse de
Langeais. The three stories are frequently combined under the title The
Thirteen.
DEDICATION
To Eugene Delacroix, Painter.
THE GIRL WITH THE GOLDEN EYES
One of those sights in which most horror is to be encountered is,
surely, the general aspect of the Parisian populace--a people fearful
to behold, gaunt, yellow, tawny. Is not Paris a vast field in perpetual
turmoil from a storm of interests beneath which are whirled along a crop
of human beings, who are, more often than not, reaped by death, only to
be born again as pinched as ever, men whose twisted and contorted faces
give out at every pore the instinct, the desire, the poisons with
which their brains are pregnant; not faces so much as masks; masks of
weakness, masks of strength, masks of misery, masks of joy, masks of
hypocrisy; all alike worn and stamped with the indelible signs of
a panting cupidity? What is it they want? Gold or pleasure? A few
observations upon the soul of Paris may explain the causes of its
cadaverous physiognomy, which has but two ages--youth and decay: youth,
wan and colorless; decay, painted to seem young. In looking at
this excavated people, foreigners, who are not prone to reflection,
experience at first a movement of disgust towards the capital, that
vast workshop of delights, from which, in a short time, they cannot even
extricate themselves, and where they stay willingly to be corrupted. A
few words will suffice to justify physiologically the almost infernal
hue of Parisian faces, for it is not in mere sport that Paris has been
called a hell. Take the phrase for truth. There all is smoke and fire,
everything gleams, crackles, flames, evaporates, dies out, then lights
up again, with shooting sparks, and is consumed. In no other country has
life ever been more ardent or acute. The social nature, even in fusion,
seems to say after each completed work: "Pass on to another!" just as
Nature says herself. Like Nature herself, this social nature is busied
with insects and flowers of a day--ephemeral trifles; and so, too,
it throws up fire and flame from its eternal crater. Perhaps, before
analyzing the causes which lend a special physiognomy to each tribe of
this intelligent and mobile nation, the general cause should be pointed
out which bleaches and discolors, tints with blue or brown individuals
in more or less degree.
By dint of taking interest in everything, the Parisian ends by being
interested in nothing. No emotion dominating his face, which friction
has rubbed away, it turns gray like the faces of those houses upon which
all kinds of dust and smoke have blown. In effect, the Parisian, with
his indifference on the day for what the morrow will bring forth,
lives like a child, whatever may be his age. He grumbles at everything,
consoles himself for everything, jests at everything, forgets,
desires, and tastes everything, seizes all with passion, quits all with
indifference--his kings, his conquests, his glory, his idols of bronze
or glass--as he throws away his stockings, his hats, and his fortune. In
Paris no sentiment can withstand the drift of things, and their current
compels a struggle in which the passions are relaxed: there love is
a desire, and hatred a whim; there's no true kinsman but the
thousand-franc note, no better friend than the pawnbroker. This
universal toleration bears its fruits, and in the salon, as in the
street, there is no one _de trop_, there is no one absolutely useful,
or absolutely harmful--knaves or fools, men of wit or integrity. There
everything is tolerated: the government and the guillotine, religion and
the cholera. You are always acceptable to this world, you will never
be missed by it. What, then, is the dominating impulse in this country
without morals, without faith, without any sentiment, wherein, however,
every sentiment, belief, and moral has its origin and end? It is gold
and pleasure. Take those two words for a lantern, and explore that great
stucco cage, that hive with its black gutters, and follow the windings
of that thought which agitates, sustains, and occupies it! Consider!
And, in the first place, examine the world which possesses nothing.
The artisan, the man of the proletariat, who uses his hands, his tongue,
his back, his right arm, his five fingers, to live--well, this very man,
who should be the first to economize his vital principle, outruns his
strength, yokes his wife to some machine, | 3,147.278731 |
2023-11-16 19:09:31.2627720 | 2,291 | 12 |
Produced by David Widger
THE REVOLT
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
BY ELLIS PARKER BUTLER
Author of "Pigs Is Pigs" etc.
Copyright, 1912, by Samuel French
CHARACTERS
GRANDMA GREGG--Founder of the Flushing Academy of Household Science for
Young Ladies.
PAULINE--Working out her tuition.
SUSAN JANE JONES--An Emissary of the American Ladies' Association for
the Promotion of Female Supremacy.
KATE--A student.
GRACE--A student.
EDITH--A student.
IDA--A student.
MAY--A student.
OTHER YOUNG LADY STUDENTS.
THE IDEAL HUSBAND--by himself.
SCENE.--The class room of Grandma Gregg's Academy of Household Science
for Young Ladies, at Flushing.
TIME.--Now or soon.
THE REVOLT
SCENE.--_The Class-room. A table. Chairs arranged in semi-circle; an
easy chair for Grandma Gregg. Screen in one corner. Chairs or couch upon
which to lay wraps and hats. Otherwise an ordinary room. Tea things on
the table._
(PAULINE, _center of stage, with pail, broom, dusting rag, scrubbing
brushes and mop, is discovered on hands and knees scrubbing. As curtain
rises she rises to her knees, throws scrubbing brush and soap into the
pail, gets up with difficulty and mops the floor. She is singing._)
PAULINE. (singing) "All alone, all alone, nobody here but me. All alone,
all alone, nobody here but me, All alone, all--" (_she stops mopping and
leans on the mop handle_) Here it is now two weeks I've been workin' out
my tuition in this Academy of Household Science for Young Ladies, and
'tis nothin' but scrub, scrub, mop, mop, sweep, sweep, from mornin' 'til
night! I see plenty of work, but none of that tuition has come my way
yet "Wanted," says the advertisement, "a young lady to work out her
tuition in an academy." It says that, "Grandma Gregg's Flushing Academy
of Household Science," it says, "fits the young ladies for to occupy
properly their positions at the heads of their homes," it says, "It
will be a fine thing for you, PAULINE," I says, "to be tuitioned in an
Academy," so I come, (_mops_) "We'll begin your lessons right away,"
says Grandma Gregg, "take th' scrub brush an' a pail of water an' some
soap an' scrub th' cellar." I've been scrubbin' ever since. I don't care
much for the higher education when there is so much scrub in it.
(_mops_)
(GRANDMA GREGG _enters_. PAULINE, _not seeing her, goes to table and
examines tea things, books, etc._)
GRANDMA GREGG. PAULINE!
PAULINE. (_beginning to mop hastily_) Yes'm!
GRANDMA. Don't forget your curtsey, PAULINE.
PAULINE. (_making a curtsey_) Good mornin', Grandma Gregg. I hope I see
you well to-day. (_changing her tone_) If it ain't askin' too much, mam,
when does my tuitioning begin? I've been scrubbin' for two weeks now,
from mornin' 'til night--
GRANDMA. Have you scrubbed the cellar, Pauline?
PAULINE. Yes'm.
GRANDMA. Don't forget your curtsey, PAULINE.
PAULINE. (_curtseying_) No'm. (_curtsey_) Yes'm. (_curtsey_)
GRANDMA. You have scrubbed the cellar?
PAULINE (_curtseying_) Yes'm.
GRANDMA. And the garret? And the first floor? And the second floor?
PAULINE, (_curtseying_) Yes'm.
GRANDMA. Very good, very good, Pauline. Then, when you have finished
scrubbing this class room, you may scrub the front porch and the stable.
Then it will be time to scrub the cellar again. You are doing very
nicely.
PAULINE. Yes'm, thank you, mam. (_curtsey_) But I was thinkin', mam,
maybe I could have a little more tuition, and a little less work. "Work
and tuition" was what the advertisement said, mam, an' I've seen nothin'
but the work yet.
GRANDMA. My dear child! My dear, sweet child! I don't understand you.
You have done no work yet.
PAULINE. (_looking at her dress and at pail and mop_) I've done no work?
I wonder, now, what I have been doin'!
GRANDMA. (_placidly_) You have been receiving your tuition. In this
academy the study of Household Science begins with the rudiments.
Scrubbing is one of the rudiments. As a new scholar you begin with the
rudiments, of course. And I must say you are doing very well. You are
making excellent progress. Apply yourself earnestly to your lessons and
in a short time you will be promoted to another class. (PAULINE _stands
with her mouth open as_ GRANDMA _talks. She seems to be stunned_) Let me
see you scrub, Pauline.
PAULINE. (_dropping on her knees and taking brush from pail_) Yes'm.
GRANDMA. Don't forget your curtsey, Pauline.
PAULINE. (_curtseying on her knees_) No'm (curtsey. She scrubs)
GRANDMA. Very good indeed! Very good indeed! You are progressing,
Pauline! You are progressing. Apply yourself faithfully to your lessons.
You may study awhile on the front porch now. And don't be afraid to use
your muscle.
PAULINE. (_gathers up her pail and mop, etc. At door she turns_) Good
morning, Grandma Gregg. (_curtseys_) (_aside_) Rudiment, is it? If I
haven't done any work yet, I wonder now what the work will be like.
GRANDMA. (_has dropped into her chair and taken up her knitting_)
Pauline.
PAULINE. Yes'm.
GRANDMA. Did you curtsey, Pauline?
PAULINE. No'm. (curtseys) But I will, (_curtseys_)
GRANDMA. Pauline, have the new Professors come yet? I have hired two new
Professors. A Professor of Husbandology, and a Professor of Rudiments.
They are very highly recommended.
PAULINE. Beg pardon mam, but what's Husbandology?
GRANDMA. Husbandology is the Science of the Proper Treatment of
Husbands.
PAULINE. And I know what Rudiments is. It's scrubbin'. No, mam, nothin'
like them has come yet. "All alone. All alone--" (_sings_) (_exit_
PAULINE)
GRANDMA, (knits) Dear me! Dear me! I thought when I started this Academy
the girls would flock to it most eagerly. When I was a young girl my
mother would have been glad to have an academy like this for me to
attend. I don't know what the world is coming to. Suffragists and
Suffragettes, and Suffrage--this and Suffrage--that! If this academy
wasn't sustained by the Anti-suffrage League it would have to close
its doors. (_sees a book on table, takes it in hand_) "Woman and Her
Rights." (_with disgust_) Augh! Who brought that here? (_throws it
on floor_) I declare, I believe this is the last stronghold of the
old-fashioned home-loving woman. I teach the girls to be good wives,
(_door bell rings_) (_enter_ PAULINE)
PAULINE, (_curtseys_) If you please, mam, there's a female at the door
says she is the new Professor of Husbandology. It's Susan Jane Jones,
mam.
GRANDMA. Show her in, Pauline.
PAULINE. Yes'm.
GRANDMA. Don't forget your curtsey, Pauline.
PAULINE. No'm. (_curtseys_) (_exit_ PAULINE)
GRANDMA. I hope Susan Jane Jones will be a real nice lady. There's
nothing in the world more necessary than lessons on the Proper Treatment
of Husbands. Women don't seem to know how to treat husbands now-a-days.
They neglect 'em, the poor things. When I was a girl--(_enter_ Susan
Jane Jones.)
SUSAN. (_strides into room with umbrella held by middle and hand bag
under one atm. Slaps them on table, and begins pulling off her gloves_)
Well, here I am--
GRANDMA. (_mildly_) Don't forget your curtsey, Miss Jones.
SUSAN. (surprised) Hey? What's that?
GRANDMA. (_gently_) All the faculty and students curtsey when they come
into my presence, Miss Jones. It is a sweet old-fashioned custom--
SUSAN. (_briskly_) Well, I'll soon change that--I mean, Howdy! Howdy!
(_bobs several times_) (_aside_) I must not forget I am here as a spy
in the enemy's country. If you are going to do the Romans you must do as
the Romans do. (to GRANDMA) Swell joint you've got here, old lady.
GRANDMA, (_rubbing knees_) Swell joints? Yes, my dear, a little
rheumatiz makes the joints swell. But I don't complain. I'm an old lady.
I have to expect some aches and pains at my time of life. I'm thankful
I can do a little good work in the world. Do you understand What your
duties will be?
SUSAN. Sure Mike! I'm the Husbandology lady. I teach the girls how to
treat their husbands when they get 'em.
GRANDMA. Just so. You will lecture on How to Coddle and Pet a Husband.
Five lectures. Then you will give five lectures on Smoothing the Lines
of
Care from Hubby's Brow. Then--of course you show by example how all this
is done.
SUSAN. | 3,147.282812 |
2023-11-16 19:09:31.4591100 | 1,564 | 6 | Project Gutenberg's etext, The Memoirs of General the Baron de Marbot
Translated by Oliver C. Colt
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A WOMAN INTERVENES
BY
ROBERT BARR
AUTHOR OF
'IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS,' 'IN A STEAMER CHAIR,' 'FROM WHOSE BOURNE,'
ETC.
WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY HAL HURST
1896
TO
MY FRIEND
HORACE HART
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
'I HAD NO INTENTION OF INSULTING YOU' _Frontispiece_
WENTWORTH SHOWED HER HOW TO TURN IT ROUND
MISS JENNIE ALLOWED HIM TO ADJUST THE WRAPS AROUND HER
'OH, YES! YOU WILL STAY,' CRIED THE OTHER
SHE WALKED ALONE UP AND DOWN THE PROMENADE
SHE SPRANG SUDDENLY TO HER FEET
'YOU HAVE A PRODIGIOUS HEAD FOR BUSINESS'
EDITH LONGWORTH HAD SAT DOWN BESIDE HIM
CHAPTER I.
The managing editor of the _New York Argus_ sat at his desk with a deep
frown on his face, looking out from under his shaggy eyebrows at the
young man who had just thrown a huge fur overcoat on the back of one
chair, while he sat down himself on another.
'I got your telegram,' began the editor. 'Am I to understand from it that
you have failed?'
'Yes, sir,' answered the young man, without the slightest hesitation.
'Completely?'
'Utterly.'
'Didn't you even get a synopsis of the documents?'
'Not a hanged synop.'
The editor's frown grew deeper. The ends of his fingers drummed nervously
on the desk.
'You take failure rather jauntily, it strikes me,' he said at last.
'What's the use of taking it any other way? I have the consciousness of
knowing that I did my best.'
'Um, yes. It's a great consolation, no doubt, but it doesn't count in
the newspaper business. What did you do?'
'I received your telegram at Montreal, and at once left for Burnt
Pine--most outlandish spot on earth. I found that Kenyon and
Wentworth were staying at the only hotel in the place. Tried to worm
out of them what their reports were to be. They were very polite, but
I didn't succeed. Then I tried to bribe them, and they ordered me out
of the room.'
'Perhaps you didn't offer them enough.'
'I offered double what the London Syndicate was to pay them for making
the report, taking their own word for the amount. I couldn't offer more,
because at that point they closed the discussion by ordering me out of
the room. I tried to get the papers that night, on the quiet, out of
Wentworth's valise, but was unfortunately interrupted. The young men
were suspicious, and next morning they left for Ottawa to post the
reports, as I gathered afterwards, to England. I succeeded in getting
hold of the reports, but I couldn't hang on. There are too many police
in Ottawa to suit me.'
'Do you mean to tell me,' said the editor, 'that you actually had the
reports in your hands, and that they were taken from you?'
'Certainly I had; and as to their being taken from me, it was either that
or gaol. They don't mince matters in Canada as they do in the United
States, you know.'
'But I should think a man of your shrewdness would have been able to get
at least a synopsis of the reports before letting them out of his
possession.'
'My dear sir,' said the reporter, rather angry, 'the whole thing covered
I forget how many pages of foolscap paper, and was the most mixed-up
matter I ever saw in my life. I tried--I sat in my room at the hotel, and
did my best to master the details. It was full of technicalities, and I
couldn't make it out. It required a mining expert to get the hang of
their phrases and figures, so I thought the best thing to do was to
telegraph it all straight through to New York. I knew it would cost a lot
of money, but I knew, also, you didn't mind that; and I thought, perhaps,
somebody here could make sense out of what baffled me; besides, I wanted
to get the documents out of my possession just as quickly as possible.'
'Hem!' said the editor. 'You took no notes whatever?'
'No, I did not. I had no time. I knew the moment they missed the
documents they would have the detectives on my track. As it was, I was
arrested when I entered the telegraph-office.'
'Well, it seems to me,' said the managing editor, 'if I had once had the
papers in my hand, I should not have let them go until I had got the gist
of what was in them.'
'Oh, it's all very well for you to say so,' replied the reporter, with
the free and easy manner in which an American newspaper man talks to his
employer; 'but I can tell you, with a Canadian gaol facing a man, it is
hard to decide what is best to do. I couldn't get out of the town for
three hours, and before the end of that time they would have had my
description in the hands of every policeman in the place. They knew well
enough who took the papers, so my only hope lay in getting the thing
telegraphed through; and if that had been accomplished, everything would
have been all right. I would have gone to gaol with pleasure if I had
got the particulars through to New York.'
'Well, what are we to do now?' asked the editor.
'I'm sure I don't know. The two men will be in New York very shortly.
They sail, I understand, on the _Caloric_, which leaves in a week. If you
think you have a reporter who can get the particulars out of these men, I
should be very pleased to see you set him on. I tell you it isn't so | 3,147.481586 |
2023-11-16 19:09:31.4775970 | 7,212 | 6 |
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Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical
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font is delimited by the ‘=’ character. Superscripted and subscripted
characters are shown as ‘^2’ and ‘_{2}’ respectively.
This text includes the rendering of ancient Greek inscriptions, using
the alphabets of a number of different regions, not all of which exist
in the unicode character set. Some are printed in reverse order (right
to left) and some are also mirror-imaged. It is not possible to render
these inscriptions as text without a wholesale loss of information
about the variant forms. Each inscription, therefore, is simply
rendered using modern Greek characters, including several archaic
characters (koppa = Ϙ and digamma= Ϝ) which are supported in unicode
fonts. These inscriptions are better viewed, obviously, in the HTML or
epub versions which can be found at Project Gutenberg.
Minor errors and inconsistency in punctuation and formatting have been
silently corrected. Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of
this text for details regarding the handling of any other textual
issues encountered during its preparation.
Footnotes appeared in the printed text numbered sequentially on each
page. They have been renumbered to be unique across the text, and are
gathered at the end of each chapter. The occasional references to them
by the original number have been changed as well.
Volume I of this text is available separately from Project Gutenberg at:
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48154
------------------------------------------------------
HISTORY OF ANCIENT POTTERY
------------------------------------------------------
PLATE XLIX
[Illustration:
ATTIC BLACK-FIGURED HYDRIA:
HARNESSING OF HORSES TO CHARIOT
(BRITISH MUSEUM).
]
------------------------------------------------------
HISTORY OF ANCIENT POTTERY
GREEK, ETRUSCAN, AND ROMAN
BY H. B. WALTERS, M.A., F.S.A.
BASED ON THE WORK OF
SAMUEL BIRCH
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOLUME II
WITH 300 ILLUSTRATIONS
INCLUDING 8 PLATES
[ILLUSTRATION]
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1905
PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON
AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY,
ENGLAND.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II
PAGE
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II v
LIST OF PLATES IN VOLUME II ix
LIST OF TEXT-ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME II xi
PART III
THE SUBJECTS ON GREEK VASES
–
CHAPTER XII
_INTRODUCTORY—THE OLYMPIAN DEITIES_
Figured vases in ancient literature—Mythology and
art—Relation of subjects on vases to literature—Homeric and
dramatic themes and their treatment—Interpretation and
classification of subjects—The Olympian deities—The
Gigantomachia—The birth of Athena and other Olympian
subjects—Zeus and kindred subjects—Hera—Poseidon and marine
deities—The Eleusinian deities—Apollo and
Artemis—Hephaistos, Athena, and Ares—Aphrodite and
Eros—Hermes and Hestia 1–53
CHAPTER XIII
_DIONYSOS AND MISCELLANEOUS DEITIES_
Dionysos and his associates—Ariadne, Maenads, and
Satyrs—Names of Satyrs and Maenads—The Nether World—General
representations and isolated subjects—Charon, Erinnyes,
Hekate, and Thanatos—Cosmogonic deities—Gaia and
Pandora—Prometheus and Atlas—Iris and
Hebe—Personifications—Sun, Moon, Stars, and
Dawn—Winds—Cities and countries—The Muses—Victory—Abstract
ideas—Descriptive names 54–92
CHAPTER XIV
_HEROIC LEGENDS_
Kastor and Polydeukes—Herakles and his twelve labours—Other
contests—Relations with deities—Apotheosis—Theseus and his
labours—Later scenes of his life—Perseus—Pelops and
Bellerophon—Jason and the Argonauts—Theban legends—The
Trojan cycle—Peleus and Thetis—The Judgment of Paris—Stories
of Telephos and Troilos—Scenes from the Iliad—The death of
Achilles and the Fall of Troy—The Odyssey—The Oresteia—Attic
and other legends—Orpheus and the
Amazons—Monsters—Historical and literary subjects 93–153
CHAPTER XV
_SUBJECTS FROM ORDINARY LIFE_
Religious subjects—Sacrifices—Funeral scenes—The Drama and
burlesques—Athletics—Sport and games—Musical scenes—Trades
and occupations—Daily life of women—Wedding scenes—Military
and naval subjects—Orientals and Barbarians—Banquets and
revels—Miscellaneous subjects—Animals 154–186
CHAPTER XVI
_DETAILS OF TYPES, ARRANGEMENT, AND ORNAMENTATION_
Distinctions of types—Costume and attributes of individual
deities— Personifications—Heroes—Monsters—Personages in
everyday life—Armour and shield-devices—Dress and
ornaments—Physiognomical expression on vases—Landscape and
architecture—Arrangement of subjects—Ornamental
patterns—Maeander, circles, and other geometrical
patterns—Floral patterns—Lotos and palmettes—Treatment of
ornamentation in different fabrics 187–235
CHAPTER XVII
_INSCRIPTIONS ON GREEK VASES_
Importance of inscriptions on vases—Incised
inscriptions—Names and prices incised underneath
vases—Owners’ names and dedications—Painted
inscriptions—Early Greek alphabets—Painted inscriptions on
early vases—Corinthian, Ionic, Boeotian, and Chalcidian
inscriptions—Inscriptions on Athenian vases—Dialect—Artists’
signatures—Inscriptions relating to the
subjects—Exclamations—Καλός-names—The Attic alphabet and
orthography—Chronology of Attic inscriptions—South Italian
vases with inscriptions 236–278
PART IV
ITALIAN POTTERY
CHAPTER XVIII
_ETRUSCAN AND SOUTH ITALIAN POTTERY_
Early Italian civilisation—Origin of Etruscans—Terramare
civilisation—Villanuova period—Pit-tombs—Hut-urns—Trench-
tombs—Relief-wares and painted vases from Cervetri—Chamber-
tombs—Polledrara ware—Bucchero ware—Canopic jars—Imitations
of Greek vases—Etruscan inscriptions—Sculpture in
terracotta—Architectural decoration—Sarcophagi—Local pottery
of Southern Italy—Messapian and Peucetian fabrics 279–329
CHAPTER XIX
_TERRACOTTA IN ROMAN ARCHITECTURE AND SCULPTURE_
Clay in Roman architecture—Use of bricks—Methods of
construction—Tiles—Ornamental antefixae—Flue-tiles—Other
uses—Inscriptions on bricks and tiles—Military tiles—Mural
reliefs—List of subjects—Roman sculpture in
terracotta—Statuettes—Uses at Rome—Types and
subjects—Gaulish terracottas—Potters and centres of
fabric—Subjects—Miscellaneous uses of terracotta—Money-boxes
—Coin-moulds 330–392
CHAPTER XX
_ROMAN LAMPS_
Introduction of lamps at Rome—Sites where found—Principal
parts of lamps—Purposes for which used—Superstitious and
other uses—Chronological account of forms—Technical
processes—Subjects—Deities—Mythological and literary
subjects—_Genre_ subjects and animals—Inscriptions on
lamps—Names of potters and their distribution—Centres of
manufacture 393–429
CHAPTER XXI
_ROMAN POTTERY: TECHNICAL PROCESSES, SHAPES, AND USES_
Introductory—Geographical and historical limits—Clay and
glaze—Technical processes—Stamps and moulds—_Barbotine_ and
other methods—Kilns found in Britain, Gaul, and Germany—Use
of earthenware among the Romans—Echea—Dolia and
Amphorae—Inscriptions on amphorae—Cadus, Ampulla, and Lagena
—Drinking-cups—Dishes—Sacrificial vases—Identification of
names 430–473
CHAPTER XXII
_ROMAN POTTERY, HISTORICALLY TREATED; ARRETINE WARE_
Roman Pottery mentioned by ancient writers—“Samian”
ware—Centres of fabric—The pottery of
Arretium—Characteristics—Potters’ stamps—Shapes of Arretine
vases—Sources of inspiration for decoration—“Italian
Megarian bowls”—Subjects—Distribution of Arretine wares 474–496
CHAPTER XXIII
_ROMAN POTTERY (continued); PROVINCIAL FABRICS_
Distribution of Roman pottery in Europe—Transition from
Arretine to provincial wares—_Terra sigillata_—Shapes and
centres of fabric—Subjects—Potters’ stamps—Vases with
_barbotine_ decoration—The fabrics of Gaul—St.
Rémy—Graufesenque—“Marbled” vases—Vases with inscriptions
(Banassac)—Lezoux—Vases with medallions (Southern
Gaul)—Fabrics of Germany—_Terra sigillata_ in Britain—Castor
ware—Upchurch and New Forest wares—Plain
pottery—_Mortaria_—Conclusion 497–555
INDEX 557
LIST OF PLATES IN VOLUME II
(_Except where otherwise noted, the objects are in
the British Museum_)
PLATE
XLIX. Attic black-figured hydria: Harnessing of horses
to chariot (_colours_) _Frontispiece_
TO FACE PAGE
L. Contest of Athena and Poseidon: vase at
Petersburg (from Baumeister) 24
LI. Kotyle by Hieron: Triptolemos at Eleusis 26
LII. The Under-world, from an Apulian vase at Munich
(from Furtwaengler and Reichhold) 66
LIII. Helios and Stars (the Blacas krater) 78
LIV. The Sack of Troy: kylix by Brygos in Louvre
(from Furtwaengler and Reichhold) 134
LV. Scenes from funeral lekythi (Prothesis and cult
of tomb) 158
LVI. Early Etruscan red ware 300
LVII. Etruscan hut-urn and Bucchero ware 302
LVIII. Etruscan imitations of Greek vases 308
LIX. Etruscan antefix and sarcophagus 316
LX. Sarcophagus of Seianti Thanunia 322
LXI. Roman mural reliefs: Zeus and Dionysos 366
LXII. Roman mural reliefs: Theseus; priestesses 370
LXIII. Roman lamps (1st century B.C.) 402
LXIV. Roman lamps: mythological and literary subjects 412
LXV. Roman lamps: miscellaneous subjects 416
LXVI. Moulds and stamp of Arretine ware 492
LXVII. Gaulish pottery (Graufesenque fabric) 520
LXVIII. Gaulish pottery from Britain (Lezoux fabric) 526
LXIX. Romano-British and Gaulish pottery 544
LIST OF TEXT-ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME II
FIG. PAGE
111. Gigantomachia, from Ionic vase _Mon. dell’ Inst._
in Louvre 13
112. Poseidon and Polybotes, from _Gerhard_
kylix in Berlin 14
113. The birth of Athena _Brit. Mus._ 16
114. Hermes slaying Argos (vase at _Wiener Vorl._
Vienna) 20
115. Poseidon and Amphitrite _Ant. Denkm._
(Corinthian pinax) 23
116. Apollo, Artemis, and Leto _Mon. dell’ Inst._ 30
117. Aphrodite and her following Ἐφ. Ἀρχ.
(vase at Athens) 43
118. Eros with kottabos-stand _Brit. Mus._ 48
119. Hermes with Apollo’s oxen (in _Baumeister_
the Vatican) 51
120. Dionysos with Satyrs and _Brit. Mus._
Maenads (Pamphaios hydria) 59
121. Maenad in frenzy (cup at _Baumeister_
Munich) 63
122. Charon’s bark (lekythos at _Baumeister_
Munich) 70
123. Thanatos and Hypnos with body _Brit. Mus._
of warrior 71
124. Nike sacrificing bull _Brit. Mus._ 88
125. Herakles and the Nemean lion _Brit. Mus._ 96
126. Herakles bringing the boar to _Brit. Mus._
Eurystheus 97
127. Apotheosis of Herakles (vase _Arch. Zeit._
at Palermo) 107
128. Peleus seizing Thetis _Brit. Mus._ 121
129. Judgment of Paris (Hieron cup _Wiener Vorl._
in Berlin) 122
130. Capture of Dolon _Brit. Mus._ 129
131. Pentheus slain by Maenads _Brit. Mus._ 142
132. Kroisos on the funeral pyre _Baumeister_
(Louvre) 150
133. Alkaios and Sappho (Munich) _Baumeister_ 152
134. Scene from a farce _Brit. Mus._ 161
135. Athletes engaged in the _Brit. Mus._
Pentathlon 163
136. Agricultural scenes _Baumeister_
(Nikosthenes cup in Berlin) 170
137. Warrior arming; archers _Hoppin_
(Euthymides amphora in Munich) 176
138. Banqueters playing kottabos _Brit. Mus._ 181
139. Maeander or embattled pattern 212
140. Maeander (Attic) 212
141. Maeander (Ionic) 212
142. Maeander and star pattern 212
143. Maeander (Attic, 5th century) 213
144. Maeander (Attic, about 480
B.C.) 213
145. Net-pattern 215
146. Chequer-pattern 216
147. Tangent-circles 216
148. Spirals under handles
(Exekias) 217
149. Wave-pattern (South Italy) 218
150. Scale-pattern (Daphnae) 218
151. Guilloche or plait-band
(Euphorbos pinax) 219
152. Tongue-pattern 219
153. Egg-pattern 220
154. Leaf- or chain-pattern 221
155. Ivy-wreath (black-figure
period) 222
156. Ivy-wreath (South Italian) 222
157. Laurel-wreath (South Italian) 223
158. _Vallisneria spiralis_
(Mycenaean) 224
159. Lotos-flower (Cypriote) 224
160. Lotos-flowers and buds _Riegl_
(Rhodian) 225
161. Palmette-and lotos-pattern
(early B.F.) 225
162. Lotos-buds (Attic B.F.) 226
163. Chain of palmettes and lotos
(early B.F.) 226
164. Palmettes and lotos under
handles (Attic B.F.) 227
165. Palmette on neck of red-bodied
amphorae 228
166. Enclosed palmettes (R.F.
period) 228
167. Oblique palmettes (late R.F.) 229
168. Palmette under handles (South
Italian) 230
169. Rosette (Rhodian) 231
170. Rosette (Apulian) 231
171. Facsimile of inscription on _Brit. Mus._
Tataie lekythos 242
172. Facsimile of Dipylon _Ath. Mitth._
inscription 243
173. Scheme of alphabets on Greek
vases 248
174. Facsimile of inscription on _Roehl_
Corinthian pinax 251
175. Facsimile of signatures on _Furtwaengler and
François vase Reichhold_ 257
176. Facsimile of signature of _Brit. Mus._
Nikias 259
177. Figure with inscribed scroll
(fragment at Oxford) 264
178. Etruscan tomb with cinerary _Ann. dell’ Inst._
urn 285
179. Villanuova cinerary urns from _Notizie_
Corneto 286
180. Painted pithos from Cervetri _Gaz. Arch._
in Louvre 293
181. Canopic jar in bronze-plated _Mus. Ital._
chair 305
182. Etruscan alphabet, from a vase _Dennis_ 312
183. Terracotta sarcophagus in _Dennis_
Brit. Mus. 318
184. Painted terracotta slab in _Dennis_
Louvre 319
185. Askos of local Apulian fabric _Brit. Mus._ 326
186. Krater of “Peucetian” fabric _Notizie_ 328
187. Concrete wall at Rome _Middleton_ 338
188. Concrete wall faced with brick _Middleton_ 339
189. Concrete arch faced with brick _Middleton_ 339
190. Diagram of Roman wall- _Blümner_
construction 340
191. Roman terracotta antefix _Brit. Mus._ 343
192. Method of heating in Baths of _Middleton_
Caracalla 347
193. Flue-tile with ornamental
patterns 348
194. Stamped Roman tile _Brit. Mus._ 354
195. Inscribed tile in Guildhall
Museum 359
196. Inscribed tile from London 363
197. Mask with name of potter _Brit. Mus._ 377
198. Gaulish figure of Aphrodite _Blanchet_ 383
199. Gaulish figure of Epona _Blanchet_ 386
200. Terracotta money-box _Jahrbuch_ 390
201. Terracotta coin-mould _Daremberg and
Saglio_ 392
202. Lamp from the Esquiline _Ann. dell Inst._ 399
203. “Delphiniform” lamp 399
204. Lamp with volute-nozzle 400
205. Lamp with pointed nozzle 400
206. Lamp with grooved nozzle 401
207. Lamp with plain nozzle 401
208. Lamp with heart-shaped nozzle 402
209. Mould for lamp _Brit. Mus._ 405
210. Lamp with signature of Fortis _Brit. Mus._ 424
211. Stamps used by Roman potters 440
212. Roman kiln at Heddernheim _Ann. dell’ Inst._ 444
213. Kiln found at Castor 447
214. Plan of kiln at Heiligenberg _Daremberg and
Saglio_ 450
215. Section of ditto _Daremberg and
Saglio_ 450
216. Ampulla _Brit. Mus._ 466
217. Lagena from France 467
218. Arretine bowl in Boston: death _Philologus_
of Phaëthon 484
219. Arretine krater with Seasons _Brit. Mus._ 488
220. “Italian Megarian” bowl _Brit. Mus._ 491
221. Gaulish bowl of Form 29 500
222. Gaulish bowl of Form 30 501
223. Gaulish bowl of Form 37 502
224. Vase of St.-Rémy fabric _Déchelette_ 517
225. Vase of Aco, inscribed _Déchelette_ 518
226. Vase of Banassac fabric from _Mus. Borb._
Pompeii 525
227. Medallion from vase of _Brit. Mus._
Southern Gaul: scene
from the _Cycnus_ 531
228. Medallion from vase: Atalanta _Gaz. Arch._
and Hippomedon 532
229. Jar from Germany, inscribed _Brit. Mus._ 537
230. Roman mortarium from _Brit. Mus._
Ribchester 551
PART III
THE SUBJECTS ON GREEK VASES
CHAPTER XII
_INTRODUCTORY—THE OLYMPIAN DEITIES_
Figured vases in ancient literature—Mythology and art—Relation of
subjects on vases to literature—Homeric and dramatic themes and
their treatment—Interpretation and classification of
subjects—The Olympian deities—The Gigantomachia—The birth of
Athena and other Olympian subjects—Zeus and kindred
subjects—Hera—Poseidon and marine deities—The Eleusinian
deities—Apollo and Artemis—Hephaistos, Athena, and
Ares—Aphrodite and Eros—Hermes and Hestia.
The representation of subjects from Greek mythology or daily life on
vases was not, of course, confined to fictile products. We know that
the artistic instincts of the Greeks led them to decorate almost every
household implement or utensil with ornamental designs of some kind, as
well as those specially made for votive or other non-utilitarian
purposes. But the fictile vases, from the enormous numbers which have
been preserved, the extraordinary variety of their subjects, and the
fact that they cover such a wide period, have always formed our chief
artistic source of information on the subject of Greek mythology and
antiquities.
Although (as has been pointed out in Chapter IV.) ancient literature
contains scarcely any allusions to the painted vases, we have many
descriptions of similar subjects depicted on other works of art, such
as vases of wood and metal, from Homer downwards. The cup of Nestor
(Vol. I. pp. 148, 172) was ornamented with figures of doves[1], and
there is the famous description in the first Idyll of Theocritus[2] of
the wooden cup (κισσύβιον) which represented a fisherman casting his
net, and a boy guarding vines and weaving a trap for grasshoppers,
while two foxes steal the grapes and the contents of his dinner-basket;
the whole being surrounded, like the designs on some painted vases,
with borders of ivy and acanthus. The so-called cup of Nestor
(νεστορίς) at Capua[3] was inscribed with Homeric verses, and the
σκύφος or cup of Herakles with the taking of Troy[4]. Anakreon
describes cups ornamented with figures of Dionysos, Aphrodite and Eros,
and the Graces[5]; and Pliny mentions others with figures of Centaurs,
hunts and battles, and Dionysiac subjects[6]. Or, again, mythological
subjects are described, such as the rape of the Palladion[7], Phrixos
on the ram[8], a Gorgon and Ganymede[9], or Orpheus[10]; and other
“storied” cups are described as being used by the later Roman emperors.
But the nearest parallels to the vases described in classical
literature are probably to be sought in the chased metal vases of the
Hellenistic and Roman periods.[11] We read of _scyphi Homerici_, or
beakers with Homeric scenes, used by the Emperor Nero, which were
probably of chased silver[12]; and we have described in Chapter XI.
what are apparently clay imitations of these vases, usually known as
“Megarian bowls,” many bearing scenes from Homer in relief on the
exterior.
In attempting a review of the subjects on the painted vases, we are met
with certain difficulties, especially in regard to arrangement. This is
chiefly due to the fact that each period has its group of favourite
subjects; some are only found in early times, others only in the later
period. Yet any chronological method of treatment will be found
impossible, and it is hoped that it will, as far as possible, be
obviated by the general allusions in the historical chapters of this
work to the subjects characteristic of each fabric and period.
Embracing as they do almost the whole field of Greek myth and legend,
the subjects on Greek vases are yet not invariably those most familiar
to the classical student or, if the stories are familiar, they are not
always treated in accordance with literary tradition. On the other
hand, it must be borne in mind that the popular conception of Greek
mythology is not always a correct one, for which fact the formerly
invariable system of approaching Greek ideas through the Latin is
mainly responsible. The mythology of our classical dictionaries and
school-books is largely based on Ovid and the later Roman compilers,
such as Hyginus, and gives the stories in a complete connected form,
regarding all classical authorities as of equal value, and ignoring the
fact that many myths are of gradual growth and only crystallised at a
late period, while others belong to a relatively recent date in ancient
history.[13]
The vases, on the other hand, are contemporary documents, free from
later euhemerism and pedantry, and presenting the myths as the Athenian
craftsmen knew them in the popular folk-lore and religious observances
of their day. It cannot be too strongly insisted upon that a
vase-painter was never an illustrator of Homer or any other writer, at
least before the fourth century B.C. (see Vol. I. p. 499). The epic
poems, of course, contributed largely to the popular acquaintance with
ancient legends, and offered suggestions of which the painter was glad
to avail himself; but he did not, therefore, feel bound to adhere to
his text. This will be seen in the list of Homeric subjects given below
(p. 126 ff.); and we may also refer here to the practice of giving
fanciful names to figures, which obtains at all periods, and has before
now presented obstacles to the interpreter.
The relation of the subjects on vases to Greek literature is an
interesting theme for enquiry, though, in view of what has already been
said, it is evident that it must be undertaken with great caution. The
antiquity and wide popularity of the Homeric poems, for instance, would
naturally lead us to expect an extensive and general use of their
themes by the vase-painter. Yet this is far from being the case. The
_Iliad_, indeed, is drawn upon more largely than the _Odyssey_; but
even this yields in importance as a source to the epics grouped under
the name of the Cyclic poets. It may have been that the poems were
instinctively felt to be unsuited to the somewhat conventional and
monotonous style of the earlier vase-paintings, which required simple
and easily depicted incidents. We are therefore the more at a loss to
explain the comparative rarity of subjects from the _Odyssey_, with its
many adventures and stirring episodes; scenes which may be from the
_Iliad_ being less strongly characterised and less unique—one
battle-scene, for instance, differing little from another in method of
treatment. But any subject from the _Odyssey_ can be at once identified
by its individual and marked character. It may be that the _Odyssey_
had a less firm hold on the minds of the Greeks than the _Iliad_, which
was more of a national epic, whereas the _Odyssey_ was a stirring
romance.[14] It may also be worth noting that scenes from the _Odyssey_
usually adhere more closely to the Homeric text than those from the
_Iliad_.
Another reason for the scarcity of Iliad-scenes may be that the Tale of
Troy as a whole is a much more comprehensive story, of which the
_Iliad_ only forms a comparatively small portion. Hence the large
number of scenes drawn both from the Ante-Homerica and the
Post-Homerica, such as the stories of Troilos and Memnon, or the sack
of Troy. The writings of the Cyclic poets begin, as Horace reminds us,
_ab ovo_,[15] from the egg of Leda, and the Kypria included the whole
story of the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, the subsequent Judgment of
Paris, and his journey to Greece after Helen, scenes from all these
events being extremely popular on the vases.[16] The _Patrokleia_ deals
with the events of the earlier years of the war, the _Aithiopis_ of
Arktinos with the stories of Penthesileia and Memnon, and the death of
Achilles, and the _Little Iliad_ of Lesches with the events of the
tenth year down to the fall of Troy. All provided frequent themes for
the vase-painter, as may be seen by a reference | 3,147.497637 |
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Produced by Rachael Schultz, Charlie Howard, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber’s Notes
Wide tables have been made narrower by using keys to identify the
column headings.
Superscripts are indicated by the ^ symbol. Italic text is enclosed in
_underscores_.
Odd-page headers have been repositioned between nearby paragraphs
and enclosed in square brackets.
Other Transcriber’s Notes may be found at the end of this eBook.
NOTES OF A NATURALIST
IN SOUTH AMERICA
NOTES OF A NATURALIST
IN SOUTH AMERICA
BY
JOHN BALL, F.R.S., M.R.I.A., ETC.
LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1887
(_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._)
TO
L. M.,
WHOSE SUGGESTIONS LED TO ITS TAKING SHAPE,
I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK.
PREFACE.
A tour round the South American continent, which was completed in so
short a time as five months, may not appear to deserve any special
record; yet I am led to hope that this little book may serve to induce
others to visit a region so abounding in sources of enjoyment and
interest. There is no part of the world where, in the same short space
of time, a traveller can view so many varied and impressive aspects
of nature; while he whose attention is mainly given to the progress
and development of the social condition of mankind will find in the
condition of the numerous states of the continent, and the manners and
habits of the many different races that inhabit it, abundant material
to engage his attention and excite his interest.
Although, as the title implies, the aim of my journey was mainly
directed to the new aspects of nature, organic and inorganic, which
South America superabundantly presents to the stranger, I have not
thought it without interest to give in these pages the impressions as
to the social and political condition of the different regions which I
visited, suggested to an unprejudiced visitor by the daily incidents of
a traveller’s life.
Those who may be tempted to undertake a tour in South America will
find that by a judicious choice of route, according to the season
selected for travelling, they may visit all the accessible parts of
the continent with perfect ease, and with no more risk of injury to
health, or of bodily discomfort, than they incur in a summer excursion
in Europe. The chief precaution to be observed is to make the visit
to Brazil fall in the cool and dry season, extending from mid-May to
September. It may also be well to mention that, while the cost of
passage and expenses on board, for a journey of about 18,400 miles by
sea, somewhat exceeded £170, my expenses during about ten weeks on
land, without any attempt at economy, did not exceed £100.
The reader may regard as superfluous the rather frequent references
to the meteorology of the various parts of the continent which I was
able to visit. But, if he will consider the importance of the two main
elements--temperature and moisture--in regulating the development
of organic life in past epochs, and the influence which they now
exercise on the character of the human population, he will admit that a
student of nature could not fail to make them the objects of frequent
attention, the more especially as many erroneous impressions as to the
climate of various parts of South America are still current, even
among men of science.
I make no pretension to add anything of importance to our store of
positive knowledge respecting the region described in this volume; I
shall be content if it should be found that I have suggested trains of
thought that may lead others to valuable results. I venture, indeed, to
believe that the argument adduced in the sixth chapter, as to the great
extent and importance of the ancient mountains of Brazil, approaches
near to demonstration, and that the recognition of its validity will
be found to throw fresh light on the history of organic life in that
region of the globe.
In the Appendices to this volume two subjects of a somewhat technical
character, not likely to interest the general reader, are separately
discussed. With regard to both of them, my aim has been to show that
the opinions now current amongst men of science do not rest upon
adequate evidence, and that we need further knowledge of the phenomena,
discoverable by observation, before we can safely arrive at positive
conclusions.
In deference to the prejudices of English readers, which are
unfortunately shared by many scientific writers, the ordinary British
standards of measure and weight have been followed throughout the
text, as well as the antiquated custom of denoting temperature by the
scale of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. With regard to the metrical system
of measures and weights, I am fully aware of its imperfections, and
if the question were now raised for the first time I should advocate
the adoption of some considerable modifications. But seeing that no
other uniform system is in existence, and that the metrical system has
been adopted by nearly all civilized nations, I cannot but regret that
my countrymen should retain what is practically a barrier to the free
interchange of thought with the rest of the world. The defects of the
metrical system are mainly those of our decimal system of numeration,
which owes its existence to the fact that the human hand possesses five
fingers. If in some future stage of development our race should acquire
a sixth finger to each hand, it may then also acquire a more convenient
system of numeration, to which the scale of measures would naturally
be adapted. In the mean time the advantages of a uniform system far
outweigh its attendant defects.
The adherence to the Fahrenheit scale for the thermometer is even
less defensible. It belongs to a primitive epoch of science, when a
knowledge of the facts of physics was in a rudimentary stage, and its
survival at the present day is a matter of marvel to the student of
progress.
I should not conclude these prefatory words without expressing my
obligations to many scientific friends whom I have from time to time
consulted with advantage; and I must especially record my obligation to
Mr. Robert Scott, F.R.S., who has on many occasions been my guide to
the valuable materials available in the library of the Meteorological
Office.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Voyage across the Atlantic--Barbadoes--Jamaica--Isthmus of
Panama--Buenaventura, tropical forest--Guayaquil and the
river Guayas--Payta--The rainless zone of Peru--Voyage to
Callao 1
CHAPTER II.
Arrival at Callao--Quarantine--The war between Chili and
Peru--Aspect of Lima--General Lynch--Andean railway to
Chicla--Valley of the Rimac--Puente Infernillo--Chicla--
Mountain-sickness--Flora of the Temperate zone of the Andes--
Excursion to the higher region--Climate of the Cordillera--
Remarks on the Andean flora--Return to Lima--Visit to a
sugar-plantation--Condition of Peru--Prospect of anarchy 56
CHAPTER III.
Voyage from Callao to Valparaiso--Arica--Tocopilla--Scenery of
the moon--Caldera--Aspect of North Chili--British Pacific
squadron--Coquimbo--Arrival at Valparaiso--Climate and
vegetation of Central Chili--Railway journey to Santiago--
Aspect of the city--Grand position of Santiago--Dr. Philippi--
Excursion to Cerro St. Cristobal--Don B. Vicuña Mackenna--
Remarkable trees--Excursion to the baths of Cauquenes--The
first rains--Captive condors--Return to Santiago--Glorious
sunset 118
CHAPTER IV.
Baths of Apoquinto--<DW72>s of the Cordillera--Excursion to
Santa Rosa de los Andes and the valley of Aconcagua--Return to
Valparaiso--Voyage in the German steamer _Rhamses_--Visit to
Lota--Parque of Lota--Coast of Southern Chili--Gulf of Peñas--
Hale Cove--Messier’s Channel--Beautiful scenery--The English
narrows--Eden harbour--Winter vegetation--Eyre Sound--Floating
ice--Sarmiento Channel--Puerto Bueno--Smyth’s Channel--
Entrance to the Straits of Magellan--Glorious morning--Borya
Bay--Mount Sarmiento 188
CHAPTER V.
Arrival at Sandy Point--Difficulties as to lodging--Story of
the mutiny--Patagonian ladies--Agreeable society in the
Straits of Magellan--Winter aspect of the flora--Patagonians
and Fuegians--Habits of the South American ostrich--Waiting
for the steamer--Departure--Climate of the Straits and of the
southern hemisphere--Voyage to Monte Video--Saturnalia of
children--City of Monte Video--Signor Bartolomeo Bossi; his
explorations--Neighbourhood of the city--Uruguayan politics--
River steamer--Excursion to Paisandu--Voyage on the Uruguay--
Use of the telephone--Excursion to the camp--Aspect of the
flora--Arrival at Buenos Ayres--Industrial Exhibition--
Argentine forests--The cathedral of Buenos Ayres--Excursion
to La Boca--Argentaria as a field for emigration 248
CHAPTER VI.
Voyage from Buenos Ayres to Santos--Tropical vegetation in
Brazil--Visit to San Paulo--Journey from San Paulo to Rio
Janeiro--Valley of the Parahyba do Sul--Ancient mountains of
Brazil--Rio Janeiro--Visit to Petropolis--Falls of Itamariti--
Struggle for existence in a tropical forest--The hermit of
Petropolis--Morning view over the Bay of Rio--A gorgeous
flowering shrub--Visit to Tijuca--Yellow fever in Brazil--A
giant of the forest--Voyage to Bahia and Pernambuco--
Equatorial rains--Fernando | 3,147.779025 |
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Produced by David Widger
DON QUIXOTE
Volume II.
Part 34.
by Miguel de Cervantes
Translated by John Ormsby
CHAPTER LIV.
WHICH DEALS WITH MATTERS RELATING TO THIS HISTORY AND NO OTHER
The duke and duchess resolved that the challenge Don Quixote had, for the
reason already mentioned, given their vassal, should be proceeded with;
and as the young man was in Flanders, whither he had fled to escape
having Dona Rodriguez for a mother-in-law, they arranged to substitute
for him a Gascon lacquey, named Tosilos, first of all carefully
instructing him in all he had to do. Two days later the duke told Don
Quixote that in four days from that time his opponent would present
himself on the field of battle armed as a knight, and would maintain that
the damsel lied by half a beard, nay a whole beard, if she affirmed that
he had given her a promise of marriage. Don Quixote was greatly pleased
at the news, and promised himself to do wonders in the lists, and
reckoned it rare good fortune that an opportunity should have offered for
letting his noble hosts see what the might of his strong arm was capable
of; and so in high spirits and satisfaction he awaited the expiration of
the four days, which measured by his impatience seemed spinning
themselves out into four hundred ages. Let us leave them to pass as we do
other things, and go and bear Sancho company, as mounted on Dapple, half
glad, half sad, he paced along on his road to join his master, in whose
society he was happier than in being governor of all the islands in the
world. Well then, it so happened that before he had gone a great way from
the island of his government (and whether it was island, city, town, or
village that he governed he never troubled himself to inquire) he saw
coming along the road he was travelling six pilgrims with staves,
foreigners of that sort that beg for alms singing; who as they drew near
arranged themselves in a line and lifting up their voices all together
began to sing in their own language something that Sancho could not with
the exception of one word which sounded plainly "alms," from which he
gathered that it was alms they asked for in their song; and being, as
Cide Hamete says, remarkably charitable, he took out of his alforias the
half loaf and half cheese he had been provided with, and gave them to
them, explaining to them by signs that he had nothing else to give them.
They received them very gladly, but exclaimed, "Geld! Geld!"
"I don't understand what you want of me, good people," said Sancho.
On this one of them took a purse out of his bosom and showed it to
Sancho, by which he comprehended they were asking for money, and putting
his thumb to his throat and spreading his hand upwards he gave them to
understand that he had not the sign of a coin about him, and urging
Dapple forward he broke through them. But as he was passing, one of them
who had been examining him very closely rushed towards him, and flinging
his arms round him exclaimed in a loud voice and good Spanish, "God bless
me! What's this I see? Is it possible that I hold in my arms my dear
friend, my good neighbour Sancho Panza? But there's no doubt about it,
for I'm not asleep, nor am I drunk just now."
Sancho was surprised to hear himself called by his name and find himself
embraced by a foreign pilgrim, and after regarding him steadily without
speaking he was still unable to recognise him; but the pilgrim perceiving
his perplexity cried, "What! and is it possible, Sancho Panza, that thou
dost not know thy neighbour Ricote, the Morisco shopkeeper of thy
village?"
Sancho upon this looking at him more carefully began to recall his
features, and at last recognised him perfectly, and without getting off
the ass threw his arms round his neck saying, "Who the devil could have
known thee, Ricote, in this mummer's dress thou art in? Tell me, who bas
frenchified thee, and how dost thou dare to return to Spain, where if
they catch thee and recognise thee it will go hard enough with thee?"
"If thou dost not betray me, Sancho," said the pilgrim, "I am safe; for
in this dress no one will recognise me; but let us turn aside out of the
road into that grove there where my comrades are going to | 3,147.97957 |
2023-11-16 19:09:31.9693040 | 1,850 | 6 |
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VOL. XXXIV. NO. 6.
THE
AMERICAN MISSIONARY.
* * * * *
“To the Poor the Gospel is Preached.”
* * * * *
JUNE, 1880.
_CONTENTS_:
PARAGRAPHS 161
SIX PREACHERS, ALL CALLED—NEW INDUSTRIES AND SIGNIFICANT
FEATURES OF NEW LIFE IN THE SOUTH 166
THE <DW64>, ON THE STATUS AND EXODUS OF THE <DW64> 167
CONDITIONS OF INDIAN CIVILIZATION—AFRICAN NOTES 169
ITEMS FROM THE FIELD 170
THE FREEDMEN.
A TOUR OF THE CONFERENCES 172
NORTH CAROLINA CONFERENCE 175
SOUTH-WESTERN CONGREGATIONAL ASSOCIATION 176
GEORGIA, MACON—Revival 177
ALABAMA—Notes from Selma 179
AFRICA.
LETTER FROM PROF. T. N. CHASE 180
THE CHINESE.
POLITICS AND THE MISSION, ETC. 182
CHILDREN’S PAGE.
LETTERS FROM INDIAN BOYS 184
RECEIPTS 185
CONSTITUTION 189
AIM, STATISTICS, WANTS 190
* * * * *
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Published by the American Missionary Association,
ROOMS, 56 READE STREET.
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Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as second-class matter.
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Rev. HORACE WINSLOW, Ct.
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