Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 994 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0085 /moa/harp/harp0085/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Note on Digital Production 0085 000
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Note on Digital Production A-B

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Issue 505 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 994 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0085 /moa/harp/harp0085/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Issue 505 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York June, 1892 0085 505
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Issue 505, miscellaneous front pages i-2

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOLUME LXXXV. JUNE TO NOYE1~JBER, 1892. HARPER & 325 NEW YORK: BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, to 337 PEARL STREET, 1892. FRANKLIN 8QUAR~. IBRARY 7 A? K CONTENTS OF VOLUME LXXXV. JUNE TO NOVEMBER, 1892. ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Illustrations by E. A. Abbey. Comment by Andrew Lang E. A. Abbey 213 ILLUSTRATIONS. Presentation of Helena to the King 213 Parolles. France is a dog-hole 219 King. Knowst thou not, Bertram, what she Glenn. I will show myself highly fed and has done for me ? 214 lowly taught 221 Helene. Pardon, madam; the Count Rousillon Entrance of Florentine Army 223 cannot he my brother 215 Perolles. 0, ransom, ransom! do not hide King. Farewell, young lords; these war-like mine eyes 225 principles do not throw from you 217 Glenn. Foh! prithee, stand away 227 AMERICA.See Baptismal Font, The of America. AMONG THE SAND HILLS. (Illustrated) Howard Pyle 556 ANCIENT GOLD-WORK Cyril Humphreys-Davenport, F.$A. 286 ILT.U5TRXTION5. Etruscan Ear-ring 286 Safety-pin from Vnlci.n.c. 490 288 Ear-ring found at Tarentumac. 350 286 Ear-ring found at Corfn.n.c. 350 . 288 Armlet found at Cnre.n.o. 600 287 Etruscan Necklace from Tarentumno 600.. 283 Etrnscan Safety-pin (n.e. 600) found at 288 ARABIA.See Islam, Holy Places of. ARMY.S99 Austro-Hungarian Army, Tile, and Italian Army, The. ARYAN MARK, THE: A NEW ENGLAND TOWN MEETING Anna C. Brackett 577 TT.LU5TIIATIONs. The Impromptu Caucas 577 The Mechanic 582 Inside the Hall 578 The Honest Man 583 The Chorus 579 Outside the Hall 584 Not unlike tile City Type 581 The three Candidates dismiss tile Meetimmg 585 The old Stage-driver 582 AS TO AMERICAN SPELLING Brander lIla Ithews 277 AUSTRIA.See From the Black Forest to the Black Sea. AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ARMY, THE F.Z.M. Baron von Hnhn 50 ILLUSTRATIONS. Haiherdier (Emperors Body-guard) 50 Hussars.. . 61 The Emperor and Staff Si Field Artillery 63 Hungarian Infantry 52 Train 64 Austrian Infantry 53 Bosnians 65 Field Chassenrs 55 Emperors Body-guardAustrian 66 Uhian (One-year Volunteers) 57 Emperors Body-guardHungarian 67 Dragoons 59 Fortress Artiilery 69 Jilger Officers 60 Torpedo-boat 70 BAPTISMAL FONT, THE, OF AMERICA Frank H Afason 651 ILLUsTaATIoNs. Duke Rend TI-Medallion of the Fifteentim Cen- Matthias Ringmann 657 tury 652 Title-page of Cosmographiae Introdnctio... 658 Arms of Guatrin Lud . ... 682 Coloptiomi of the Cosmographiae Introdnctio, Churcim of Notre Dame founded hy Saint Did mu showing Date-mark of the May Editions.. 659 the Seventh Century 653 The Page of Cosmographice Introdnctioin Guatrin Lud 654 which the name America isfirstmentioned. 661 Jean Basin, from a Pen-drawing by Matthias Portrait of Saint Deodatns.A Page from the Ringniann 654 Gradnel, printed in Saint Did 15101514. 663 House of Jean Basin 655 Cloister of the Cathedral of Saint Did 665 Citadel of Saint Did at the Time of the Gym- Saimit Did, looking southward from the Bridge. 666 nase Vosgien 656 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER James Bussell Loivell 757 BOY ORATOR OF ZEPATA CITY, THE. A STORY. (Illnstrated) Richard Harding Davis 847 CAPTAIN JOHN (1514). A STORY John Heard, Jun. 203 CHAPMAN James Bu8sell Lowell 561 COLU1~IBIAN ExPosITIoN.See Fair, The Designers of the. COLUMBUS. (With Map.) See also Baptismal Font, ~ The, of America. Professor Dr. S. Ruge 681 iv CONTENTS. CoRFu AND THE JONIAN SEA Constance Fenirnore Wooleon 351 ILLUSTRATIONS. Head-piece 351 Mon Repos, Summer Residence of the King The Palace 352 of Greece 360 University of the lonian Islands 352 In the Grounds of the new Villa of the Empress Small Temple, Memorial to Sir Thomas Malt- of Austria 361 land 352 King George of Greece 362 Statue of Capo dIstria 353 Queen Olga of Greece. 363 Part of time Town of Curt n 355 Albaniami Male Costume 364 The Tomb of Menekrates 356 Albanian Female Costume 365 Village of Pelleka 357 Gala Costume, Corfn 366 The Islet called The Ship of Ulysses 359 Olive Grove, Corfu 367 CURTIS, GEORGE WILLIAM. IN MEMORIAM 958 CZARS WESTERN FRONTIER, ThE PoultucyBigelow 255 DANUBE, THE.See From time Black Forest to the Black Sea. DEATH-MASKS, A COLLECTION OF Laurence Hutton 619,781,904 1LLIJSTRATIONS. Dante 619 Antonio Canova 788 Tasso 621 Richard Brinsley Sheridan ~S9 ShakespeareStratford Bust 622 Thomas Moore 790 Shakespeare, from the Kesselstadt Mask 622 Edmund Burke 791 David Garrick 623 Joim Philpot Curran 91 Edmund Kean 624 Jonathan Swift 92 John McCullough 624 Walter Scott ~92 Dion Boucicault 625 Robert Burns 93 Lawrence Barrett 625 King Robert the Bruce 93 Queen Louise of Prussia 626 Napoleon Bonaparte 904 Madame Malibran 626 Oliver Cromwell 905 Beetimoven 627 Napoleon III 905 Scimiller 627 henry IV. of France 906 Mendelssoimn 62S Charles XII. of Sweden 907 Marat 629 Frederick time Great 905 Mirahean 629 U. S. Grant 909 Robespierre 630 George WashingtonIloudons Mask 910 Sir Isaac Newton 630 Benjamin Franklin 910 Ben Caunt, Prize-figlmter 631 ~V. r. Sherman 911 William Makepeace Thackeray 781 Aaromt Burr 912 Thomas Chalmers 782 Thomnas Paine 912 Sanmuel Taylor Coleridge 783 Dtnmiel Webster 913 William Words~vorth 784 Henry Clay 914 Samuel Jolmuson 785 Joimn C. Calhoun 914 John Keats 786 Ahraham Lincoln 915 Jeremy Bentimam 787 Lord Brougham 916 Benjamin Robert Ilaydoim 787 Florida I~egro Boy 916 DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.See How the Declaratioa was Received imi the Old Thirteen. DECORATION DAY. A STORY & oah Orne Jewett 84 DRAMATISTS, THE OLD ENGLIsHSee Old English Dramatists, The. DU MAURIER, GEORGE, ILLUSTRATIONS BY : The Disappointmnents of Lion Hunting, 308; Domestic Ecormomy, 470; An unpleasant Social Duty, 632; Quite Harmless, 794. Flnimkyana, 956. EDITORS DRAWER. Jim and Old Sue (Timomas Nelson Page; Illustration II. ammd time Roman Beggar, 644. lie of Erin lJobn Paul), by A. B. Frost). 157. Farmuer Tompkins and the Cyclo- 644. 0mm tlme best Authority, 644. A Request (Illustra- pndia (John Kendrick Bamtgs), 158. Unpleasantly like tion by A. B. Stermter), 64S. Misplaced BragAng, 645. (Illustration by W. H. hyde), 159. Terry and imis lfev- The Ungentlemanly Mr. Scrod (Tom P. Morgan), 646. erence, 159. A clever Motto, 159. TIme Habit of the Consoling Timou~ht (Illustration by Frank 0. Small), Humorist, 160. A fortunate Escape, 160. The Electric 647. To a Tragedian, 648. An mmufair Advauta~e (B. C. Way (Charles Dudley Warner; Illustration by C. 1). Moore), 648. Mr. Peters coml)laimms (Joimu Keudrick Gibson), 161. 0mm an Orator, 162. Looked safer. 162. Bangs), 648. The most Wortimless Man in our Class Helms (Thomas Nelson Page; Illustration by A. B. (Thomas Nelson Page; Illustratiomm by A. B. Frost), 804. Frost), 320. A modest Contributor (William henry An Assuramtce, 505. A wonderful Experience, 805. A Siviter), 321. Destitute, 322. Silas Peters on Educa- remarkable Statement, 506. Perillas P.S. (Carlyle tion, 322. From Kentucky (William J. Roster), 322. Smith), 806. Moral Proportion, 806. TIme Paralysis of Suttday Papers in Sumumer (Illustration by Frank 0. Parker, 806. Smtbtle Criticism )Illttstratiorm l)y Frank 0. Small), 323. lIe knew, 323. Wouldnt do, 323. Rigtmt Smuall), 807. The legal Conglt, 808. An Oltject-lessomm at Httmae, 324. Native Thrift (Gustav Kobbl), 324. Au in Futility, 808. A very agreeable young Lady (Illustra- Ammecdote of Washington )G. A. Lyon, Jun.), 324. Time tion by Albert B. Stermter), 809. A Cmblicism, 809. rime Ladys Cimoice (Timomas Nelson Pa~e; Initial Illmistra. Irmspiration of a famous Line, 809. The I-lop Wadkins tion ity A. B. Frost), 482. Where are They? (Jolmn Ken- Case (Tom P. Morgan), 810. The True Story of the Sur- drick Bangs), 483. Not Ihimself (David Ker), 484. A render of the Marquis Coruwallis (Thomas Nelson Page; Fish Story, 484. A well-managed Hotel, 484. A Smig- Illustration by A. B. Frost), 968. Broad Views, 969. gestion (Illustration by W. T. Smedley), 485. A Tribute, Thaaks,,iviug Day, 970. Sca~gss Mare Pohly, 970. At 485. Au Experimnent wanted, 483. For Parents only otmr Boarding-Imouse (Illmistratiomi by W. II. Hyde), 971. (J. M. Barrie), 485. For Humanitys Sake, 486. All the Every Man his own Newspaper, 971. Too qtmick (Clif- Geography a Nigger needs to Kmmow (Thomas Nelson ford Trembly), 972. Not availtmltle as an Immterpreter (C. Page; Illustration by A. B. Frost), 642. Whats in a B. Moore), 972. Brammclmed Out (Illustratton by A. B. Name? 643. The model Galley-Slave, 643. An Expen- Frost), 972. sive Lamp Slmadc (William Henry Siviter), 644. Colonel EDITORS EASY CHAIR. The Maid and the Wit, 147. A defective Theory, 148. the Grant Monument, 47S. Kominating Conventions of Time Hamilton Trees, 149. The Park and the Public, the Future, 633. The Fidler Type of Emm~lislmmnau, 034. 150. Of Wolves and Lambs, 309. The old Literary Nothing so rare as a June Day in June, 63S. Some Capital, 310. TIme Summer Season of tIme Amusement Words about the Easy Cimair, 79S. The larger ijses of Company, 311. The Pimilbarmonic Semicentenary, 313. the College, 795. The Celebration of the DisU,very of Mother Goose and Morality, 471. Politics and Fair Amnerica, 797. A Plea for Clmristmas, 957. Play,472. A National Convention, 473. New York and CONTENTS. EDITORS STUDY. Mr. Thomas Hardys new Novel, 152. A Polish Mas- terpiece, 153. A Southern Man of Letters, 133. The History of David Grieve, 154. Fiction stranger then Troth, 155. Local Color, 155. Deformity in Fiction, 314. Views of New England Life, 315. Two American Novels, 316. Dr. Amelia B. Edwards, 317. A Contribu- tion to American Literary History, 318. Schopenhaner in Fin-de-SilcIe Fiction, 476. The downward Tendency in Realism, 476. Spiritualization of Thought in France, 477. A Forest Idyl, 478. The Permanency of a Literary Centre. 419. Professor Fiskes Discovery of America, 480. Beauty of Nature iii certain Authors, 636. The imperfect Distribution of Books, 637. The Evolution of the daily Newspaper, and its Effect on some Preju- dices in the World of Letters, 639. Mr. Mont~omery Schoylers Studies in American Architecture, 640. Sum- mer Books and Summer Readers, 793. Some Views of time latter respectin~ realistic Fiction, 799. Tracts dis- gimised as Novels, 799. Substance without Style and Style ~vlthout Substance, 800. An anonymous agnostic Novel, 801. David Grieve, 801. Vald6ss Faith, 801. Pierre Lous Novels, 801. Zolas La D4bIcle, 802. The Responsibilities of Literature, 962. Moral Recklessness of Fiction, 962. Results of the downward Tendency of Realism, 964. M. Charles Wagners Jen- nesse and the Reaction in France against the material- istic Spirit, 965. The Works of Mr. Laurence Hutton, 966. Booxa MENTIONED IN THE ErnToas STunY.Beaure- paires The Foresters, 478. Edwardss Pharaohs, Fel- labs, and Explorers, 317. Eg4estons Faith Doctor, 317. Fiskes The Discovery of America, 480. From time Books of Lanrence Hutton, 966. Garlands Main Trav- elled Roads, 152. Goodyears Grammar of the Lotus, 318. hard y s Tess of time DUrbervilles, anmi a Group of Noble Dames, 152. Howellss Tile Quality of Mercy, 316. Huttons Literary Landmarks, 967. Grace Kings Moo- siemir Motte, and Tales of a 1ime and Place, 156. Lolls Madame Clirysantimlme and ottmer Works, 801. Mel- villes Typee, 302. Merediths The Tragic Comedians, 155. Schovlers Studies in American Arcimitecture, 640. Sienkiewiczs Tile Delnge, and Fire and S~vord, 153. Smyths Tile Philadelphia Magazines, 318. Tolstots Works, 637. Trents Life of William Gilimore Simms, 153. Vald6ss Faith, 801. Wagners Jeunesse,i165. Mrs. Wards David Grieve, 154, 801. Zolas La Dibhcle, 802. EDUCATION IN THE WEST . . President Charles F. Tlmsving 715 EFFERATI FAMILY, TilE. A STORY. (Illustrated) Thomas A. Janvier 763 ELEPHANTS, WILD, THE CAPTURE OF, IN MYSoIIE ft. Caton Woodrille 290 IlLUsTRATIONs. Initial 290 TIme young Tusker creeps ummder time Gate 298 Time great Camp imear the Kimeddab 291 The big Female gives over .to Despair 299 On the Road to time Kimeddab. . 293 An interestin Calf 301 1lme Maharajalm cuts the Rope 294 The figlmting Tmmsker Jung Behadum at Work 302 1lme Dinner in the Mess Tent 295 Leadin~ Home time Captives 303 Trapped at last 291 A Herd in time Forest at early Mormming 305 FAIR, THE DESIGNERS OF THE F. D. Millet 872 ILT.U5TIIATION5. D. H. Bmlrnham, Chief of Construction 872 George B. Post, Architect of time Manufactures Frederick Law Olmsted, Landscape Architect.. 873 emmd Liberal Arts Building 877 Henry Vamm Brummt, Architect of time Electricity Louis H. Sullivan, Arclmitect of the Transporta Buildin~ 873 tion Building . 878 Riclmard M. Hunt, Arcimitect of the Admninistra- Francis M. Wimitehouse, Architect of time Cimoral tion Building ... 874 Buildin,., 879 Charles F. McKim, Architect of time Agriculto- S. S. Bemoan, Arcimitect of the Mines and Mimmimmg ral Bnilding 875 Building 880 Charles B. At~vood, Designer-in-chief, Arcimi- henry Sargent Codman, Lammdscape Architect.. 881 tect of the Galleries of Fimme Arts, etc 875 Sophie G. hayden, Arcimitect of time Womaims XV. L. B. Jenney, Arcimitect of time hhorticulturmml Bmmilding 882 Building 876 Henry Ives Cobb. Architect of time Fish ammd Fisimeries Building 883 FEDERAL POWER, THE GROWTH OF THE BemO~ Loomis Nelsomi 240 FOX-HUNTING IN TIlE GENESEE VALLEY Edward S. Martin 511 ILm.usTRATmoNs. In Full Cry 488 Drawing Cover 516 Head-piece 511 1mm the Homestead Library 519 A Meet at Bleak house 513 Gone away over Caneseraga 521 Time Queemm of time Hummt 515 1mm at the Deatim 523 FnoM LEOPOLDS WINDOW. A STORY Kathamitme Pearson Woods 106 FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA F. D. Millet .126,261, 454 ILLUsTRATIONs. Semendria 127 Rama 128 Goluhi& 129 The Kasan Defile 131 Remains of Trajans Road near Orsova 133 Roumanian Picket Guard 134 Remaaimms of Trajans Brid~e Turn Severimm 135 Serviamm Fisiming-canoes 135 Drawing Water for time Camp, Brza Palanka... 136 Carryimmg Water for the Camp, Brza Palammke... 137 Serviamm MilitiaBrza Pelanka 138 Our Guard Serviau Militia Camp 139 Massing of Servian Troops on the Bulgarian Frontier 140 Bniidin~ a House in Servia 141 House at RadajevA~ 142 Roumaniamm Peasant Girl 143 Camp opposite Kalmmfat 144 Bmileariau FishermeuBasket-making 145 In Widdin 261 Turks at Widdin 262 Bulgarian Peasant Types 263 Becalmed 264 Tmmrkish Sailing Ships 264 Bmilgeriau Village 265 On the Bulgarian Shore, near Ralmova 280 Bulgarian Buffalo Cart 267 Turkisim Flat-boat 267 Turkish Women at Sistova 268 Old Mosque, Rmmstchuk 269 Mosqmme in Silistria 270 Peasants on the Roumammian Simore 27t I-lirsovmm 271 In Silistria 272 Gura Ghirlitza 273 Roumanian Peasants selling Flowers and Fruit 274 Loading Graimm at Braila 275 Hills near Matchimm 275 Gypsy Camp at Galatz 276 Galatz 455 Peasemmts of the Delta 456 Dredging in the Delta 457 Toultclma 458 Chetal St. George 459 Rnssian Picket Post 460 Kilia 461 V vi CONTENTS. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA.( Continued.) ILLUSTRATIONS. Windmills at Tonltcha 461 Fishin~ Station on the Black Sea 465 A late Camp 462 Turkish sailing Lotka, Sulina 466 Fkliiig-hnt among the Reeds 463 Roumanian Sailors at the Cordon 467 Vilkoff 463 The last Toilet in Camp 468 Moldavian PeasantsA windy Day in the Delta 464 By the Black Sea 469 FRONTISPIECES :The Mourning Athene, from the Acropolis, 2. Reading the Declaration before Washingtoas Army, New York, July 9, 1776, 164. Ernest Renari in his Study at the Coll& ~ge de France, 326. In Full Cry, 488. Sorcery, 650. Forgive me, my own, my Mariette ! 812. FROST, A. B H. C. Bunner 699 ILLUSTRATIONs. ~. B. Frost 699 A Sketch 702 A Game of Checkers 700 Durn them Hens I 703 Some Studies of a Gentleman pnttin~ down a Georgia Crackers 703 Carpet - 701 Also Eight other illustrations. FUNERAL ORATIONS IN STONE AND WORD Charles Waldstein 3 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Mourning Athene, from the Acropolis 2 Marble Relief of Athene-Nike,End of fifth Cen- Temple of Nike Apteros, on the Acropolis 5 tury 7 Caryatid Porch of Ihe Erechiheum, on the Head of Palla~ V~i~ji ;Yi:om the colossal Acropolis 6 Bust atMunich 9 GEORGIASee Salzburger Exiles, The, in Georgia. GOLD-WORK, ANCIENT.5e0 Ancient Gold-work. HONEY-DEW PICNIC, A. (Illustrated) William Hamilton Gibson 24 How KENTUCKY BECAME A STATE George W. Ban4k 46 HoW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED IN THE OLD THIRTEEN Charles P. Deshler 165 ILLUSTRATIONS. Heading the Declaration before Washingtons At Portsmouth, New Hampshire 174 Army, New York, July 9, 1716 164 At Newport, Rhode Island 175 Head-piece 165 In Connecticut 177 At Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 167 At Williamsburg, Virginia 170 At Princeton, New Jersey 169 At halifax, North Carolina 180 At Dover, Delaware 170 At Baltimore, Maryland 183 In New York (at Headquarters) 171 At Charleston, South Carolina 185 At Boston, Massachusetts 173 At Savannah, Georgia 186 HULL, COMMODORE ISAAC, THE BIRT LIPLACE OF .Jane De Forest Shelton 30 ILlUSTRATIONS. Isaac Hull 31 The Monument to Joseph 1-lull, Long Hill Ceme- rhe Constitution being towed out of Boston tery, Huntington, erected hyhis Son Isaac. 38 Harbor 1812 32 House where isaac Hull was bormi . 34 ICE AND ICEMAKING 7. Mitchell Prudden 370 ILIUST ATIONS. Ice Stars 372 Corner of an Artificial Ice Block, sun-dissected Ice Flowers 172 for an Hour 379 Rock-crystals 373 Artificial Ice Block, sun-dissected for an Hour Snow Crystals 373 and a Quarter 380 Method of Extracting the Cans of Artificial Surface of a sun-dissected Artificial Ice Block.. 381 Ice 375 Slab from an Artificial Ice Block on the Point Cross-section of an Artificial Ice Block 077 of falling to Pieces from Sun-Disinte~ration 382 Artificial ice Block, seen from the Side 177, 378 INDIA.See Elephants, Wild, Tile Capture of, in Mysore, and Tiger-hunting in Mysore. IN MEMOIIIAM. GEORGE WILLIAM CuRTis 958 ISLAM, THE HOLY PLACES OF Charles Dnd!ey Warner 813 ILLUSTRATIONS. Arafat 515 Medina Mosque El-KhiffCamp of the Egyptian PhI- Mosque of Medina, containing the ~ 521 grims 816, 817 Tomb 82. Pilgrims round the Kaaba in the MeccaMosque 819 General View of Mecca, and the Mosque.. 824, 825 ITALIAN ARMY, THE G. Goiran, General Staff Colonel 419 ILIUSTIIATIONs. King Ilumbert as General of the Army - 423 Officer of Cuirassiers 432 Bersa~hier, 426 CavalryRoyal Piedmont Reghuent . 433 Infantry of the Line 427 Li~ht Cavalry 434 Foot Carabineer 428 Cavalry Officers 435 Horse Carahineers 429 Mountain Artillery 437 Alpine Infantry 431 Field Artillery 438 JANE FIELD. A NOVEL. (Illustrated) Mary B. Wilkins 15, 187, 384, 609, 669, 828 KENTUCKYSee How Kentucky became a State. LITERARY PARIsSee Paris, Literary. LOT No. 249. A STORY. (Illustrated) A. Conan Doyle 525 MAPS :Montana, 93. Northern Peru, 114. Wash~~gton~ 595. Behaims Map, copied from Toscanellis, 689. CONTENTS. vii MARLOWE James Russell Lowell 194 MASSINGER AND FORD James Russell Lowell 942 MONTANATHE TREASURE STATE. (With Map) Jaliau Ralph 90 MONTHLY REcoiw OF CURRENT EVENTS. UNITeD STATEsBeale, T., appointed Minister to 319. Bulgaria, Conspiracy in, 319. France, Anarchists in, Greece, 803. Bering Sea Seal Fisheries Dispute with 136, 319; Agreement with Great Britain, 156. Great Bri- Great Britain, 156, 319. Bills passed by Congress, 156, tam: British Parliament dissolved, 641; Election of new 319, 481, 641, 803. Blame, James G., Resignation of, Parliament, S03; New British Cabinet, 803; Agreement 481; his Successor, 641. Brown, D. R., Governor of with France concerning the Newfoundland Fisher- Rhode Island, 156. Buffalo, New York, Strike of Switch- ies, 156. Italy: Renewal of diplomatic Relations with men at, 803. Chinese, Bill for tile Exclusion of the, 156, the United States, 319; Resi.~nation of Cabinet, 319; 319. Cholera in New York Bay, 967. Cleveland, G., Netv Cabinet, 481. Russia, Cholera in, 803, 967. Spain: nominated for President, 641. Cuur dAlene Mines, Anarchists in, 156, 319; Celebration of Coluinbuss Voy- Strike and Riot at the, 803. Congress, Acts of, 156, 319, age of Discovery, 503; Riots in Barcelona, 481. Sontli 481, 641, 803. Conventions, National, 481, 641. Cool- America: Argentine Republic, State of Siege in, 151. , - owboys, Brazil: Revolution in, 157; Quiet restored in, 319; Ex- idge, T. J. appointed Minister to France 319 C Lawlessness of, in Wyoming, 319. Democratic National tension of President Peixotos Term of Office, 641. Convention, 641. Earthquake in California, 319. Ex- Venezuela, Revoluhion in, 157. Africa: War in Da- ports of the United States, 319. Foster, John W., Secre- homey, 319; Battle ~vith Jehus, West Africa, 481; Chol- tary of State, 641. Foster, M. J., Governor of Louisiana, era in Egypt, 481- 319. Governor, Elections ofin Rhode Island, 156; in DIsisTeasAvalanche at St. - Gervais - les - Bains, Louisiana, 319; in Arkansas, 967; in Vermont, 967; in France, 803. Breakin~ down of a Bridge in Kentucky, Maine, 967. Governors, Nominations for, 319. Grant, 641. Capsizing of a Boat at Peoria, Illinois, 803. Cap- U. S., Monument to, in Riverside Park, New York, 319. sizing of a Raft in Austrian Galicia, 319. Explosion at Harrison, B., nominated for President, 4S1. Hepburn, Mare Island Navy-yard, 481. Lightning in Harbor of A. B., Comptroller of the Currency, 803. Ilomestead, Blayc, France, 641. Railroad Accident in Massachn- Pennsylvania, Strike and Riot at, 641, 803. Runton, E., setts, 967. Volcanic Eruption in the Dutch East In- Senator from Virginia, 481. Italy, Diplomatic Relations dies, 803. Wreck of a Sloop in the River Claire, Anarn, resumed with, 819. Lands in the West opened for Set- 319. By Fire: At Tokio, Japan, 319; at Srinagar, tlement, 319. Mills, R. Q., United States Senator from Cashmere, 481; at Oil City and Tituaville, Peunsylva- Texas, 156. New Orleans, Time Lynching of Italians rue, 481; at St. Jotmns Newfoundland, 641. By Floods: at, 319. Neiv York City, Population of, 319. Peo- In Mississippi, 157, 319; in Iowa, 481; in time Mississippi pies Party, National Convention of the, 641. Platforms Valley, 481; at Oil City and Titusville, Pennsylvania, 481. of tIme Political Parties, 481, 641. Prohibitionists, Na- In Mines: Near Chmarlerol, Belgium, 1ST; at Roslyn, tional Conveuttion of, 641. Reid, Wimitelaw, nominated Washington, 319; at Przibram, Bohemia, 481; at York for Vice-President, 481. Republican National Convemi- Farm Collieries, Pennsylvania, 803. At Sea: Wreck of thou, 481. Senators, Elections offrom Texas, 156; from the Earl of Aberdeen, 481; of the Alexander Wolcow, Virghmia, 481. Shiras, George, Associate Justice of tIme 481; of the Solimoes, 481; of the Ajax, 803; of the Thra- Supreme Court of the United States, 803. Silver Bill cian, 967; of the Amiglia, 967; of time Western Reserve, (Stewarti passed by the Semmate, 641; rejected by the 967. By Storms: In Kansas, 157,481; in Manritins, 481. house, 803. Sisseton Indians, Opening the Reservation OneTuAav.Agnew, DIlayes, 157. Astor,William, 319. of the, 319. Snowden, A. L., Minister to Spain, 803. Barbour, John 5., 481. Bumigay, George XV., 641. Clark, Sperry, W. R., Minister to Persia, 803. Steamships, Bill M. II., 967. Cook, Rose Terry, 803. Curtis, Geoi-ge for tIme Registering of as United States Vessels, 319. William, 967. Demiver, General J. W., 803. Dillon, Sid- Strikes: at Homestead, Pennsylvania, 641, 803; tim Ida- ney, 481. Dougherty, Daniel, 967. Duvighit, Theodore W., ho, 803; at Buffalo, New York, 803, 967. Tennessee, 641. Edwards, Amelia B., 319. Field, Cyrus W., 641. Miners Rebellion in, 803,967. Treaties with Spain amid Fonseca, General da, 967. Fmeemamm, Eduvard A., 157. France, 156; with Nicaragua, 156; with Great Britain, Hubuer, Baromi, 803. Lotlirop, D., 157. Mackenzie, Alex- 156. White, A. D., Minister to Russia, 803. Worlds ander, 319. Murray, John, 157. Osgood, James R.,481. Fair, Appropriation for, by Congress, 803. Wyoming, Parsons, T. W., 967. Pollard, Josephine, 803. Porter, Co~vboy Outrages in, 319. Judge J. K., 319. Smith, Roswell, 319. Trowbridge,W. FozameNBelgium, Elections in, 641; Anarchists in, P., 803. Whitman, Walt, 157. Whittier, John G. ,967. MR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN GISHS BALL. A STORY. (Illustrated) Al. E. AL Datis 949 OLD ENGlISH DRAMATISTS, THE. (See also Webster, Marlowe, ? J Russell Lowell 75 Chapman, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger and Ford)., ~ antes OREGON-See Wyeth, Nathaniel J., and the Struggle for Oregon. PARIS ALONG THE SEINE Theodore Child 723 ILLUsTaATIoNs. Notre Dame at Sunset 723 Canal Saint MartinWasli-liouse amid Plaster- View from Pavillon de Flore 725 unloaders 733 Time LouvreView from Pont Nemif .. 726 Canal Saint MartinLock amid Boat-haulers... 734 Monster of Notre Dame 727 Pout MuirieIlorses Bathing 735 View from tIme Pont dii Jour 728 Quai de la RapieStation near Pomit dAuster- Salute Chmapelle and Pont Saint Michel 729 litz 736 Time Pamitheon, f mom the Pont de lEstacade ... 731 1hie Apple Market 737 Bassin de ha Villette 73S PARIS, LITERARY Theodore Child 327, 48~ IT.T.UsTaATIoNs. Ernest Renan 326 Hippolyte Adolphe Tame 495 ~lmile Zola 328 Jules Ciaretie 496 Edmund de Goncourt 329 Jean Richiepin 497 Paul Bourget 330 Ferdinand Fabre 498 Jules Lemaitre 331 Pierre Loti 489 Anatole France 333 Georges Otmuet 500 F. Brumnetllre .... 334 Lion Hennique 501 Maurice Harris 490 henri Becque 503 Meicimior de Vogihi 491 Francisque Sarcey 505 Guy de Maupassant 493 Albert Wolf 506 PARISIAN BOULEVARDS, ALONG THE Theodore Child 855 ILLUsTzATIoNs. Avenue des Champs ~lysies 857 Boulevard des Italiens at Sunset 863 LArc de TriompheReturn from the Bois after Rue de la Paix, from the Place de lOpCra 865 a Shower 8S9 Place de ha Madeleine 867 Le Grand Coiffeur 861 In Front of time Opira on a wet Night 869 PASSING OF THOMAS, THE. A STORY Thomas A. Janvier 439 Viii CONTENTS. PERU, EASTERN, SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF Gourtcsiay de KaTh 113 ILLUSTRATIONS. Map of Northern Peru 114 A Chola Girl, Iquitos 119 A Siesta 115 House iii Yurimagna~ 120 The Prefects Palace and the Calle del Malecon, A Native Distillery, San Lorenzo 121 A Iquitos ill Specimen of Native Pottery 122 Banana Plantation 115 A Jicara 122 PTI BAROUETTE. A STORY. (Illustrated) William MeLennan 71 RIVALS, THE. A STORY. (Illustrated) Fran gois Coppie 884 RuSSIASee Czars Western Frontier, The. SALZBURGER EXILES, THE, IN GEORGIA The Rev. John F. Hurst, D .D.392 iLLUSTRATIONS. Church in New Ehenezer 393 Sectional View of a Salzburger House, showing Lutheran Salzhurger Church in Savannah 395 Manner of dovetailing 397 A Salzhur~er House built of Cypress Blocks.. 390 SAND HILLS, AMONG THE.See Among the Sand Hills. SHAKESPEARE, THE COMEDIES ou.See Alls Well that Ends Well. SOUL OF ROSE D~Dhi, THE. A STORY H. B. H. Davis 250 SouTIl AMERICA.SeO Peru, Eastern, Social and Intellectual Condition of. SPELLING, AMERICAN.See As to American Spelling. SPOONS, THOSE SOUVENIR. A STORY Margaret Sidney 568 ST. LOUIS, THE NEW GROWTH OF Julian Ralph 917 TIGER-HUNTING IN MYSORE R. Caton Woodville 706 TLT,USTRATION5. Initial 106 Shooting the Tiger In On the Way to time Tiger-netting 107 Bringing the dmd Tigress out of the Pond.... 714 A Char~e against time Netting 709 TOWN MEETING, A NEW ENGLAND.See Aryan Mark, The. TROTH. A STORY Rose Hawthorne Lathrop 341 WASHINGTONTHE EVIiRGREEN STATE. (With Map) Julian Ralph 594 WEBSTER James Russell Lowell 411 ~\TILKINS, MARY E. (Portrait) 527 W1LKINSS, MISS MARY E., STORIES 961 WORLD OF CHANCE, THE. A NOVEL William Dean Howells 36, 229, 400, 544, 740, 927 WYETH, NAThANIEL J., AND THE STRUGGLE FOR OREGON ~ John A. W~jeth, M.D. 835 (With Portrait). POEThY. A GIFT DIVINE Eleanor B. Caldwell 608 A HEAVENLY BIRTHDAY Louise Chandler Moulton 560 A PENALTY Nina F. Loyard 307 AN AUTUMN LANDSCAPE Archibald Lampman 762 AT THE TOMB OF JUAREZ. (Illustrated) Hezehiah Butterworth 284 BAGATELLE. (Illustrated) Thomas Bailey Aldrich 592 BEGGARS WORD, THIc. (Illustrated) Thomas Dunn English 507 CLOSED Elizabeth Stoddard 255 LOVE Ad~le R. Ingersoll 399 MY PHOTOGRAPH John B. Tabb 763 M~ SWEEThEARTS FACE (Illustrated) John Allan Wyeth 146 ON CREMATION. A SONNET George Horton 70 OUR ONLY DAY Goates Kinney 418 PENALTY Nina F. Layard 307 SILENUS Edward A. Uffington Valentine 756 SLEEP. A SONNET Archibald Lampnian 49 TEMPTATION C. H. Goldthicaite 608 Two MOODS. (Illustrated) ..~ Thomas Bailey Aldrich 228 THE MOURNING ATHENE, FROM THE ACROPOLIS.

Charles Waldstein Waldstein, Charles Funeral Orations In Stone And Word 3-15

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOL. LXXXV. JUNE, 1892. FUNERAL ORATIONS IN STONE AND WORD. BY CHARLES WALDSTEIN. IN an article in this Magazine for March, 1890, on the Restored Head of Iris in the Parthenon Frieze, an account was given of the successful excavations carried on by the Greek government on the Acropolis of Athens a few years ago. It was there stated that, with the excep- tion of two ancient works of art, all the remains found at that time belonged to the period preceding the destruction of the ancient city of Athens by the Per- sians under Xerxes, and thus all were earlier in date than the year 480 B.C. The two works of art which formed this exception were found near the surface, Where they must have been buried at a much later period, both of them dis- tinctly later than the Persian invasion. The one was the fra~ment of relief from the Parthenon frieze representing the head of Iris, published iii that article; the other is a bass-relief representing Athene (or Minerva) leaning on her lance before a pillar or slab, which is reproduced in the frontispiece to this nu inber. This marble slab is coml)aratively small in dimensions. It is about one foot nine inches high by one foot one inch in width. The work is in excellent preservation, and though of modest ap- pearance, as far as the size and the mani- fest elaborateness are concerned, it is one of exceptional interest, and presents many problems. M. Kavvadias, the Greek Di- rector of Excavations, in the first notice in the official gazette, or Deltiou, pointed to the expression of melancholy in the atti- tude and expressioii of the figure; while Mr. E. A. Gardner, in an early notice of this work in the Journal of Helicuic Studies, considers it a very beautiful work, of which the significance is, and is likely to remain, an unsolved problem. voL. Lxxxv.No. 5051 I venture to believe that the problem which at first seemed so difficult of so- lution can now be approached with no ill -founded hope of satisfactory settle- inent. There are really three main questions which present themselves to the archmol- ogist studying this work. The first i~, To what period arid what school may the work be ascribed? The second is, What type of Athene is here represented? And the third is, What is the meaning and significance of Athene in this peculiar attitude and situation, and what purpose did this slab serve? I believe that all archmologists will be agreed, when they consider not only the place where the monument was found, but also the numerous reliefs which have been discovered, especially within recent years, in Attica, that the work must be ascribed to the Attic school. We really only meet with difficulty hen we at- tempt to assign an accurate date. For it must be evident to even those who are not specialists in the study of such monu- ments that there is a certain dualism or incongruity in the treatment of this fig- ure. This incongruity is to be found in the elements of freedom, skill in model- ling and in composition, on the one hand, as contrasted with a certain archaic severity and awkwardness in composition and execution on the other. The sever- ity, conventionality, and awkwardness point to the archaic period, which reach- es, roughly speaking, from time earliest antiquity of Greek art dowmm to the year 460 B.C.; the freedom and grace in com- position and execution point to the period when Greek art was emancipated coni- pletely from its archaic trammels by Phid- ias, after the year 460 B.C. Awkwardness and conventionality are mainly to b~ CopyrIght, 1892, by narper and Brothers. All rights reserved. No. DV. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. found in this figure in the lower portion, from the waist downwards, freedom and grace in the upper part of the figure, above the waist. When we merely con- sider this lower portion, we must be struck, in the first place, with the dis- crepancy of its character as compared with the successful rendering of a definite sentiment in the pose and composition of the figure as a whole. vVith merely this lower portion of the figure to judge from, we should have expected a more conven- tional treatment in the upper portion: a head placed straight between the shoul- dew, and harder and severer lines in the folding of the drapery. Yet it cannot be denied that the artist has succeeded, by the gentle inclination of the head, by the attitude of leaning upon the spear, by the very lines suggested by the lofty helmet, in expressing a delicate and subdued sentiment which we are wont to associate only with later works of Greek art. So also the artist has succeeded in this very low relief in conveying with freedom and without suggestion of constraint a deli- cate turn of the upper part of the body about the shoulders, so that the figure is not completely in full face as regards the torso, and presents a very subtle system of foreshortening. But when he comes to the lower portion of the figure, about the hips, lie cannot succeed in carrying on the suggestion of this delicate turn of the body, and the semblance of round- ness is destroyed by the manifest appear- ance of flatness. So too he succeeds with remarkable skill, considering this flat- ness of relief, in suggesting the elaborate turn, from the shoulder downwards, of the arm which rests upon her hip; yet immediately below the waist, where the wrist and hand must continue to suggest the delicate turn of the whole arm, lie ap- pears to fail signally in a somewhat clum- sy treatment of the wrist and of the hand. Finally, when we come to the modelling of the drapery, the discrepancy at once becomes patent between the varied flow of line so successfully indicating the texture of the garment and its delicate sensitive- ness (if I may use such a word) in vary- ing and accentuating the part of the body above the waist, and the unresponsive folds below the waist. These lower folds, again, in their regularity and parallel lines, point to the conventionalism which is universal in the works of the archaic period. Ever since archirologists have realized that in the period of decline of Greek art, in the first century nc., there was a kind of revival and conscious attempt at repro- ducing the spirit of the great by-~,one age of Hellasin short, a kind of renaissance many works which had formerly been ascribed to the archaic period were recog- nized as being the productions of this late revival of archaic art. The artists and copyists of this period, chiefly living in Rome or working for the Roman market, consciously strove to reproduce in spirit and in form the works belonging to the earlier periods, even attempting to repro- duce the very imperfections and conven- tionalisnis of this early art. This attempt and this spirit correspond in a great de- ree to a wave of artistic effort which in our century we have been witnessing in Germany and in England. In Germany these artists were called the Nazarene School; in England they are called Pre- Raphaelites. Both allow themselves to be inspired by the quaint spirit of Italian art before Raphael, and the manifestations of this severer tone in what might be call- ed imperfections of technique. As regards works of Greek sculpture, the tendency has been to consider as archaistic, in con- tradistinction to archaic, all those works which, though in their general composi- tion, in modelling of the nude and in treat- ment of drapery, corresponded to early archaic works, betrayed their origin in a later date by the involuntary intrusion of freedom and advanced technical skill in some portion of the work. Thus wherever one finds a certain dualism and discrepancy in any given work with regard to the points I have been describ- ing, the tendeucy would be to consider such a work as belonging to this late so- called archaistic period. But there is one important point which must never be for- gotten, namely, that in the so-called Pe- riod of Transition (from 500 to 460 B.c.), when art as a whole and the individual artists were in the act of freeing them- selves from the archaic trammels, and of claiming their birthright to complete free- dom of artistic renderingthat in this period, which immediately precedes the great efforts of Phidias, the same dualism occurs. It is here that the most patient and minute special study is required to distinguish the works of the late archa- istic schools from those belonging to the early period of transition. Yet a coin- FUNERAL ORATIONS IN STONE AND WORD. 5 parison of such works side by side may in many instances at once show the marked difference that obtains between them; and this relief of Athene is one of the best instances in which the dualism we have dwelt upon clearly points to the genuine work of the fifth centnry B.C., and differs fundamentally from the pe- culiarities to be noted in the works of the Grreco-Roman period. As a work of the fifth century B.C., however, it cannot cer- tainly be placed earlier than the year 470. On the other hand, owing to the introduc- tion of a certai n sentiment or pathos in the attitude of the figure, which sentiment, it has been supposed, is foreign to the art of the great period of Pliidias and Polyc- leitos, the work has been ascribed by some to the very close of the fifth century, and even to the beginning of the fourth cen- tury B.C. When we have answered the question as to the meaning and destina- tion of this work, we shall see that there is no reason for placing the relief so late on account of the introduction of senti- ment. So far, I would fix its date ,asre gards the character of the work itself, between the years 470 and 450 B.ca period in which, owing to the emanci- pating efforts not only of sculptors like Phidias, but also to the important in- fluence of his older contemporary the painter Polygnotos, free and naturalistic art had begun to introduce itself; while, on the other hand, the severer spirit of the older artists had not completely died away aBd lost its predominance. But if we consider the more human side, Bame- ly, the question of the sculptor who made it, I should be inclined to ascribe this work to an artist (of which there were many at Athens) who may well have lived down to the last decades of the tifth century, but whose early training and traditions were formed by an artist of the older and severer school. In the work of such an artist there would be the traces of both periods of art mingled with one another, and even though this individual wnrk might have been made in the year 430 B.c., the artist may have learned his craft from old-school teachers - TEMPLE OF NIKE APTEROS, ON THE ACROPOLIS. 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. like Hegias or Kalamis al)out the year 460, or even 470, B.C. And, finally, we must not forget, when dealing with such a specimen of the minor arts, the influ- ence of some well-known type of Athene which the sculptor had before him or in his mind when he executed this more modest commission. That the sculptors of such reliefs, when they had to carve an Athene, were thus influenced by the well-known types, the sacred temple stat- ues by great artists, is fully established by facts. And thus the sculptor of this relief may, in the second half of the ~fth century B.C., have been influenced by a temple statue representing Athene which belonged to an earlier period, and maui- fested in its modelling the characteristics of more archaic art. In fact, the awk- wardness of pose as regards the lower portion of the figure, the modelling of which recalls the more conventional tem- ple statues of earlier dates, seems to arise from the attemptnot quite successful - of putting such a severe type of temple statue into this new, definite, and expres- sive pose. I could adduce several other instances of reliefs the peculiarities of which can only be explained by the at- tempted adaptation of an earlier temple statue to a new situation or scene. To sum up. theu, the relief might either have been produced in the years betw~en 470 and 450 B.cthough, in spite of what I shall have to say, the introduction of the sentiment seems to me to militate against so early a date-or it would be the work of an artist who, twenty years of age in 470 B.C., would be seventy years of age iii 420 B.c., and who, with the more archaic traditions of his earlier trainino mio~ht have made this relief at a later period of his life; or, finally (and this stands well with the previous supposi- tions), the work is some years subsequent to the year 450 B.C. (not later than 420 B.C.), and the artist was influenced by a sacred statue of Atheue which belonged to an earlier period, and had distinct traces of archaism in its modelling. The influence of such an earlier type com- mends itself more and more as we study other similar reliefs representing Athene. I may at once say that the type to CAHYATID rORcH OF THE ERECETHEUIIL, ON THE AcRoroLIs. FUNERAL ORATIONS IN STONE AND WORD. 7 which this Athene belongs is not that of Promachos, who guards her own city the Athene Parthenos, the famous gold against the foes. The type seems to me and ivory statue which Phidias made in rather that youthful side and conception the Partheijon; nor is it the type of of Athene which more and more succeed- Athene Prornachos, the colossal bronze statue on the Acropolis by that artist. The prototype of the Athene in our relief seems to me to be a sacred temple statue of a somewhat earlier date, and one which does not represent Athene distinctly as either the virgin goddess Parthenos or the markedly warlike character of Athene ed in establishing itself until it became a separate divinity under the name of Nik~ or Victory. But at Athens, before Vic- tory had thus become a separate divinity, she existed and was worshipped as one pecnliar aspect of the goddess Athene, under the name Athene-NIk~, and to her a temple and a statue were erected imme MARBLE RELIEF OF ATHENE-NIKE, END OF FIFTH CENTURY B.C. In Lansdowne House, London. 8 HAIRPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. diately after the Persian war, in the time of Cimon, the predecessor of Pericles. This temple may with the greatest proba- bility be identified in the beautiful small edifice commonly known as the Temple of Nike Apteros, which stands on the very brow of the Acropolis; and a statue to this goddess erected in the time of Ci- mon would, I hold, correspond in all probability to the type of Athene as ren- dered in our relief, standing erect, with- out the definite action marked by the attitude of our figure. An interesting counterpart to this rendering of Athene- Nike is that of another Attic relief in Lansdowne House, London, representing Athene-Nike holding her helmet before her in her hand, and here published for the first time. The sculptor of this Attic relief has chosen a different model for his figure. He has been distinctly influ- enced by the works of Phidiac art. The drapery of this figure is free from any touch of earlier conventionality or sever- ity; in fact, in the folding and general arrangement it correspoilds completely to that of the maidens on the frieze of the Parthenon, and in drapery and head- dress and type of head its nearest analo- gies are to be found in these maidens and in the Caryatides of the Erechtheum on the Acropolis. This relief will well illustrate what the minor sculptors, im- mediately influenced by the work of Phid- ias at Athens, did when they were com- missioned to make such a relief, and at the same time it distinctly shows how the sculptor of our Athene-Nike was influ- enced b~V the earlier type, which we may be justified in considering to have been established in the time of Cimon. But though our sculptor may thus have been influenced by an earlier type, he certain- ly marks a great advance in the freedom with which lie has adapted the older fig- ure to the expression of a new and defi- nite meaning, which makes this almost a unique work in the history of Greek art. A still further and later modifica- tion and derivative of the earlier proto- type may be found in a statue the exact position of which in the history of art has always been a puzzle. It is the celebrated Pallas of Velletri, now in the Louivre Museum, Paris, of which the co- lossal bust at Munich, from the Villa Al- bani, gives a more perfect rendering as regards the most striking head. The statue and the bust are probably copies of a fourth-century original, yet I have al- ways felt that in some of their character- istics of grandeur mingled with grace they pointed to some Attic influence of the fifth century B.C.; and our relief of Athene-Nike, by means of a comparison of the two heads, well serves to illustrate the earlier Attic influence in the form of this beautiful type of the so-called Velle- tri Pallas. But it is interesting to see what the fourth-century artist has put into his figure in contradistinction to the situation on our relief. For though in the statue and in the bust there are no accessories, such as the slab, and the lance upon which our Athene is leaning, to in- dicate a definite and individual situation as a motive to the drooping head, the ar- tist of the Velletri Pallas still gives a delicate forward inclination to his head, which now serves him to express one of the leading features of the virgin goddess Athiene, namely, the thoughtfulness of the Goddess of Wisdom. For here in this statue, standing erect in solemn maj- esty, the inclination of the head is not indicative of mourning or sorrow, but it gives to the whole work a pensive cx- pressi~n, and accentuates as the central point of importance and interest in the statue, to which the eye of the spectator is forcibly led by the whole composition of the work, the brow of this youthful goddess. And it is one of the many great achievements of the genius of Greek art that it should have been able to mani fest the solemn and dignified characteris- tics of thoughtfulness without in any way impairing the charm of maidenly youthfulness, which two elements are the component features of the goddess Athene. But this great subtlety of individualiza- tion is more characteristic of the fourth century B.C. than of the more monument- al character of breadth which marks the works of the fifth century B.C. And in our relief the sentiment is only justified by the definite situation and by the desti- nation of the slab itself. The meaning of this figure and the purpose which the slab served appear to me evident. The solemn restful attitude of the figure, with drooping head and down-cast eyes, leaning upon her spear, the point of which rests against and touches a square piece of marble upon which she is gazing, is manifestly a sign of niourning. The square stone in front of her is not a pillar, or it would have had some finish or ornament on the top, tach some importance to an apparently such as the Athene holding the helmet minute point, and that is that the spear has before her. It is a square sepulchral of the goddess is inverted. For there is no slab, the thin side of which faces us, doubt that the point is upon the ground, whereas the broad front faces the god- whereas the finger of her left hand is dess. She is thus gazing upon that side resting upon the blunt end of the spear. upon which the account of the grave I know of no passage in Greek authora which the stone covers is given. Who- definitely recording the fact that the in- ever has seen these sepulchral slabs version of a spear was a sign of mourn- standing side by side along the sacred ing; yet we certainly know that the in- road where the Greeks buried their dead, version especially of the torch with ref- will reco~nize this as the clear rendering erence to the chthonic deities of the low- of the side view. I must, moreover, at- er world was a mark of mourning. In HEAD OF PALLA5 OF VELLETRI, FROM THE cOLOssAL BU5T AT MUNIcH. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Roman times Virgil, the most arch~eo- logical of Latin authors, in the account of the burial of Pallas, describes the sad phalanx following the Trojans, Tyrrhe- nians and Arcadians with inverted arms: [[urn maesta, phalanx Teucrique sequuntur, Tyrritenique omnes et versis Arcades armis. And Tacitus, in his account of the burial of Germanicus, tells us of their reversing the standards and fasces. The custom has even survived in modern military burials; and it is interesting to note that our custom may go back thousands of years to a ceremony which would refer to the pagan deities of the lower world. But I should think that the marked atti- tude of sorrow, the more marked even from the contrast between the upper and lower parts of the figure, would in itself be enough to confirm this interpretation. A consideration of the use to which this slab was put makes this meaning all the more imperative. From its dimensions the slab could not have served as a sepulchral slab, such as surmounted Greek graves. These are in- variably larger and of different shape. Nor can it be a part of an architectural decoration. It really corresponds to a class of ancient reliefsa great number with the figure of Athene upon them found at Athens, which are the sculp- tured ornamentations and headin~s to public inscriptions regarding some de- cree, treaty, or public record. Athene is then represen ted as personifying the Attic people, and she stands with lance and shield (the type generally borrowed from the Athene Parthenos), with the personi- fication of the other people with whom the treaty is made opposite to her, or sometimes a personification of the Attic Demos or people itself. Now among the inscriptions found in Attica, and at Athens itself, there are a large number which make public record of the valor of citizens who had fallen in battle. Their names were recorded, as Thucydides says in the speech of Pericles, on stone slabs as a public recognition of their bravery. The burial of the dead and the finding of their remains was a matter of great im- portance to the Greeks, and it was a sol- emn ceremony after a battle to find the dead and to give them a decent burial. On the grave itself there may have been some account of their death; but at home also their names were to be in- scribed to stimulate their countrymen to emulation. Of all the uses to which our relief could be put, from its mere shape and form, this is the most probable, in fact, the only one I can conceive of; and from its I)ature and the artistic treatment of the subject, it certainly seems to me. the most likely destination of this work: to have headed an inscription containing the names of those who had fallen in bat- tle, which record was placed in some pub- lic spot in Athens or on the Acropolis. Our Athene-Nike would therm be standing in the attitude of mourning, with reversed spear, gazing down upon the tombstone which surmounts the grave of her brave sons. And bearing this destination of the marble relief in mind, the sentiment expressed in the figure of Athene is not the outcome of the subjective sentiment of the artist who carved the work, or of the general spirit of the age, as is the case in works of the fourth century B.C. The situation in which Athene is here render- ed is a definite and exceptional one in or- der to convey a definite and individual story. And the expression of such senti- ment need in no way lead us to ascribe to the work a later date than the one sug- gested. Works of sculpture, moreover, referring to the dead are throughout the first works in the history of Greek art by means of which sentiment is expressed in sculpture. The function and impor- tance of sepulchral monuments in thus bridging over the step between the lofty idealistic art of the fifth century and the more naturalistic art of the fourth century no., which gives immediate expression to human sentiment and moods, form an in- teresting chapter in the development of Greek art. Our relief would thus tell the story, create a sympathetic mood in the specta- tor, and sing the praise of those whose names would be recorded on the slab which it surmounted. It is thus that I would call this relief A Funeral Ora- tion in Stone; and though I do not mean to say that the inscription which it sur- mounted referred immediately to those who had fallen in the campaign of 431 B.C., I still feel that the most perfect coun- terpart in literature to this relief in sculp- ture is the famous funeral oration of Per- icles as recorded by Thucydides. As is well known, there exists some doubt among scholars as to the authen- ticity of the speeches recorded by Thu FUNERAL ORATIONS IN STONE AND WORD. 11 cydides in his history. And there can be begins with a few introductory remarks no doubt that the peculiar tricks in the of simple explanation, and then turns to style of Thucydides himself manifest a general eulogy of Athens as contrasted themselves also in the speeches which he with her enemy Sparta. It is clear to puts into the mouths of very different him that at this moment he must act upon people. But, on the other hand, it must be the feelings of his fellow-countrymen to remembered that as regards the speeches cheer them out of the possible depression delivered at Athens, Thucydides, living which the late events might readily pro- there at the time and a full member of duce. He wishes to give them self-con- this deliberative, body itself, must have fidence, and at the same time he makes heard the speeches there delivered, and this a praise of culture and higher civili- this more especially applies to the speeches zation which belong to the Athenian of Pericles, for whom he had, so great an people as a brilliant torch, handed on admiration. As Professor Jebb says in through ages, to shed its light even upon his admirable essay on the speeches in the peoples of our day. And from this Thucydides (Ilellenica, p. 281): As Thu- general eulogy, using it as a wonderful cydides must have repeatedly heard Pen- transition, he passes on to the more defi- deswhom he describes as the first of nite purpose of his oration, and shows Athenians, most powerful in action and what a great sacrifice those make who in speechit would be strange if he had give up their lives, which were set in not endeavored to give at least some traits such brilliant and joyous surroundings. of the eloquence which so uniquely im- But, on the other hand, he shows how great pressed contemporaries. Pericles is said the duty is and how bright the glory to to have left nothing written; but Aristo- surrender ones life for the preservation tle and Plutarch have preserved a few of of such a national home. And he then the bold images or striking phrases which turns to draw the moral for those who tradition attributed to him. Several ex- survive, which is really the central aim of amples of such bold imagery occur in the the whole speech. Finally, turning to Thucydidean speeches of Pericles, espe- the surviving relatives, he addresses a few cially in the funeral speech, and it can weighty words of condolence to them, and hardly be doubtedfthat they are phrases with a short, dignified ending he turns which have lived in the historians mem- their minds back to the reality of the life ory. But the echo is not heard in single which is before them, with its tasks, and phrases only. Every reader of the fu- dissolves the enervating influence of his neral oration must be aware of a majesty rhetorical art. This makes this speech in the rhythm of the whole, a certain union such a great moral piece of oratory. He of impetuous movement with lofty gran- will not encourage sweet and useless self- deur which Thucydides has given to Pen- pity. The oration is such as not simply des alone. There is a large alloy, doubt- to work upon the emotions of his audience less, of rhetorical ornament in the new and to fill them with the inebriating fumes manner of overstrained antithesis; but the of passionate eloquence; but it is imbued voice of the Olympian Pericles is not with the supreme virtue of Hellenic life, wholly lost in it. moderation; and he thus strives to turn I would also impress one important the whole current of his rhetorical pow- consideration bearing upon this question, er into the channels of a vigorous and and this is the comparatively more per- healthy national life. feet verbal memory which in the days But no transcription can give an esti- that knew no printing-press enabled hear- mate of this oration, and I cannot refrain ers to remember and to discuss with a from giving in full the translation of Dr. high degree of accuracy whatever they Jowett, which certainly also is an ad- heard, especially when clad in so perfect equate instance of the English style of an artistic form. For that the Greeks, this scholar: even before the establishment of schools FUNERAL ORATION. of formal rhetoric by the sophists, regard- Most of those who have spoken here before ed their speeches as works of art cannot me have commended the law-giver who added be doubted. And when we consider the this oration to our other funeral customs. It main construction of the funeral oration seemed to them a worthy thing that such an of Pericles, we cannot fail to be impressed honor should be given at their burial to the by the succinct plan of its exposition. He dead who have fallen on the field of battle. VOL. LXXXV.No. 5052 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. But I should have preferred that when men~~ in any way distinguished, he is preferred to deeds have been brave, they should be honor- the public service, not as a matter of privilege, ed in deed only, and with such an honor as this but as the reward of merit. Neither is poverty pnblic funeral which you are now witnessing. a bar, but a man may benefit his country what- Then the reputation of many would not have ever be the obscurity of his condition. There been imperilled on the eloquence or want of is no exclusiveness in our public life, and in eloquence of one, and their virtues believed our private intercourse we are not suspicious or not as he spoke well or ill. For it is dif- of one another, nor angry with our neighbor if ficult to say neither too little nor too much, he does what he likes; we do not put on sour aiid even moderation is apt not to give the looks at him, which, thongh harmless, are not impression of truthfulness. The friend of the pleasant. While we are thus unconstrained dead who knows the facts is likely to think in our private intercourse, a spirit of reverence that the words of the speaker fall short of his pervades our public acts; we are prevented knowledge and of his wishes; another, who from doing wrong by respect for authority and is not so well informed, when he hears of for the laws, having an especial regard for anything which surpasses his own powers, those which are ordained for the protection of will be envious, and will suspect exaggera- the injured as well as for those unwritten laws tion. Mankind are tolerant of the praises of which bring upon the transgressor of them the others so long as each hearer thinks that he reprobation of the general sentiment. can do as well or nearly as well himself; but And we have not forgotten to provide for when the speaker rises above him, jealousy our weary spirits many relaxations from toil; is aroused, and he begins to be incredulous, we have regular games and sacrifices through- However, since our ancestors have set the seal out the year; at home the style of our life is of their approval upon the practice, I must refined; and the delight which we daily feel obey, and to the utmost of my power shall en- in all these things helps us to banish melan- deavor to satisfy the wishes and beliefs of all choly. Because of the greatness of onr city who hear me. the fruits of the whole earth flow in npon us, I will speak first of our ancestors, for it is so that we enjoy the goods of other countries right and becoming that now, when we are as freely as of our own. lamenting the dead, a tribute should be paid Then, again, our military training is in to their memory. There has never been a many respects superior to that of our adver- time when they did not inhabit this land, saries. Our city is thrown open to the world, which, by their valor, they have handed down and we never expel a foreigner, or prevent him from generation to generation, and we have from seeing or learning anything of which the received from them a free state. But if they secret, if revealed to an enemy, might profit were worthy of praise, still more were our fa- him. We rely not upon our management or af- tr thers, who added to their inheritance, and ickery, but upon our own hearts and hands. ter many a struggle transmitted to us, their And in the matter of education, whereas they sons, this great empire. And we ourselves from early youth are always undergoing labori- assembled here to-day, who are still most of ous exercises which are to make them brave, us in the vigor of life, have chiefly done the we live at ease, and yet are equally ready to work of improvement, and have richly endow- face the perils which they face. And here is ed our city with all things, so that she is suf- the proof. The Laceda~monians come into ficient for herself both in peace and war. Of Attica not by themselves, but with their whole the military exploits by which our various confederacy following; we go alone into a - possessions were acquired, or of the energy neighbors country, and although our oppo- with which we or our fathers drove back the nents are fighting for their homes and we on a tide of war, Hellenic or barbarian, I will not foreign soil, we have seldom any difficulty in speak, for the tale would be long, and is fa- overcoming them. Our enemies have never miliar to you. But before I praise the dead, yet felt our united strength; the care of a I should like to point out by what principles navy divides our attention, and on land we of action we rose to power, and nuder what are obliged to send our own citizens every- institutions and through what manner of life where. But they, if they meet and defeat a our empire became great. For I conceive that part of our army, are as proud as if they had such thoughts are not unsuited to the occasion, routed us all, and when defeated they pretend and that this numerous assembly of citizens to have been vanquished by us all. and strangers may profitably listen to them. If, then, we prefer to meet danger with a Our form of government does not enter light heart but without laborious training, into rivalry with the institutions of others. and with a courage which is gained by habit We do not copy our neighbors, but are an cx- and not enforced by law, are we not greatly ample to them. It is true thai we are called the gainers ?since we do not anticipate the a democracy, for the administration is in the pain, although, when the hour comes, we can hands of the many and not of the few. But be as brave as those who never allow them- while the law secures equal justice to all alike selves to rest; and thus, too, our city is equal- in their private disputes, the claim of excel- ly admirable in peace and in war. For we lence is also recognized; and when a citizen is are lovers of the beautiful, yet simple in our FUNERAL ORATIONS IN STONE AND WORD. 13 tastes, and we cultivate the mind without loss I have dwelt upon the greatness of Athens of manliness. Wealth we employ not for talk because I want to show you that we are con- and ostentation, but when there is a real use tending for a higher prize than those who en- for it. To avow poverty with us is no dis- joy none of these privileges, and to establish grace; the true disgrace is in doing nothing by manifest proof the merit of these men whom to avoid it. An Athenian citizen does not neg- I am now commemorating. Their loftiest lect the state because he takes care of his own praise has been already spoken. For in mag- household; and even those of us who are en- nifying the city I have magnified them, and gaged in bnsiness have a very fair idea of men like them, whose virtues made her glori- politics. We alone regard a man who takes ons. And of how few Hellenes can it be said, no interest in public affairs not as a harmless as of them, that their deeds, when weighed in but as a useless character; and if few of us the balance, have been found equal to their are originators, we are all sonnd judges of a fame! Methinks that a death such as theirs policy. The great impediment to action is, in has been gives the true measure of a mans our opinion, not discussion, but the want of worth; it may be the first revelation of his that knowledge which is gained by discussion virtues, but is at any rate their final seal. For preparatory to action. For we have a pecul- even those who came short in other ways may iar power of thinking before we act and of justly plead the valor with which they have acting too, whereas other men are courageous fought for their country; they have blotted from ignorance, but hesitate upon reflection. out the evil with the good, and have benefit- And they are surely to be esteemed the bravest ed the state more by their public services spirits who, having the clearest sense both of than they have injured her by their private the pains and pleasures of life, do not on that actions. None of these men were enervated by account shrink from danger. In doing good, wealth or hesitated to resign the pleasures of again, we are unlike others; we make our life; none of them pnt off the evil day in the friends by conferring, not by receiving, favors, hope, natural to poverty, that a man, though Now he who confers a favor is the firmer poor, may one day become rich. But, deeming friend, because he would fain by kindness keep that the punishment of their enemies was alive the memory of an obligation; but the sweeter than any of these things, and that recipient is colder in his feelings, because he they could fall in no nobler cause, they deter- knows that in requiting anothers generosity mined at the hazard of their lives to be honor- he will not be winning gratitude, but only pay- ably avenged, and to leave the rest. They re- ing a debt. We alone do good to our neigh- signed to hope their unknown chance of hap- bors, not upon a calculation of interest, but piness; but in the face of death they resolved in the confidence of freedom and in a frank to rely upon themselves alone. And when and fearless spirit. To sum up: I say that the moment came they were minded to resist Athens is the school of Hellas, and that the and suffer, rather than to fly and save their individual Athenian in his own person seems lives; they ran away from the word of dishon- to have the power of adapting himself to the or, but on the battle-field their feet stood fast, most varied forms of action with the utmost and in an instant, at the height of their for- versatility and grace. This is no passing and tune, they passed away from the scene, not of idle word, but truth and fact; and the asser- their fear, but of their glory. tion is verified by the position to which these Such was the end of these men; they were qualities have raised the state. For in the worthy of Athens, and the living need not de- hour of trial Athens alone among her contem- sire to have a more heroic spirit, although they poraries is superior to the report of her. No may pray for a less fatal issue. The value of enemy who comes against her is indignant at such a spirit is not to be expressed in words. the reverses which he sustains at the hands Any one can discourse to you forever about of such a city; no subject complains that his the advantages of a brave defence, which you masters are unworthy of him. And we shall know already. But instead of listening to assuredly not be without witnesses; there are him I would have you day by day fix your mighty monuments of our power which will eyes upon the greatness of Athens, until you make us the wonder of this and of succeeding become filled with the love of her; and when ages; we shall not need the praises of Homer you are impressed by the spectacle of her glo- or of any other panegyrist, whose poetry may ry, reflect that this empire has been acquired please for the moment, although his repre- by men who knew their duty and had the sentation of the facts will not bear the light courage to dQ it, who in the hour of conflict of day. For we have compelled every land had the fear of dishonor always present to and every sea to open a path for our valor, them, and who, if ever they failed in an en- and have everywhere planted eternal memo- terprise, would not allow their virtues to be rials of our friendship and of our enmity. lost to their country, but freely gave their Such is the city for whose sake these men lives to her as the fairest offering which they nobly fought and died; they could not bear could present at her feast. The sacrifice the thought that she might be taken from which they collectively made was individually them; and every one of us who survives should repaid to them; for they received again, each gladly toil on her behalf. one for himself, a praise which grows not old, 14 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and the noblest of all sepnlchresI speak not unalloyed. And if I am to speak of womanly of that in which their remains are laid, hut of virtues to those of yon who will henceforth he that in which their glory survives, and is pro- widows, let me sum them np in one short ad- claimed always and on every fitting occasion monition. To a woman not to show more both in word and deed. For the whole earth weakness than is natural to her sex is a great is the sepulchre of famous men; not only are glory, and not to he talked ahout for good or they commemorated hy columns and inscrip- for evil among men. tions in their own country, hut in foreign I have paid the required tribute in obe- lands there dwells also an unwritten memorial dience to the law, making use of such fitting of them, graven not on stone, but in the hearts words a.s I had. The tribute of deeds has been of men. Make them your examples, and, es- paid in part, for the dead have been honorably teeming courage to he freedom and freedom to interred, and it remains only that their chil- be happiness, do not weigh too nicely the per- dremj should he maintained at the public charge ils of war. The unfortunate who has no hope until they are grown up; this is the solid prize of a change for the better has less reason to with which, as with a garland, Athens crowns throw away his life than the prosperous, who, her sons, living and dead, after a struggle like if he survive, is always liable to a change for theirs. For where the rewards of virtue are the worse, and to whom any accidental fall greatest, there the noblest citizens are enlisted makes the most serious difference. To a man in the service of the state. And now when of spirit, cowardice and disaster coming to- you have duly lamented, every one his own gether are far more bitter than death striking dead, you may depart. him unperceived at a time when he is full of courage and animated by the general hope. The same spirit which pervades this Wherefore I do not now commiserate the lofty oratory, with its grandeur and its parents of the dead who stand here; I would simplicity and its moderation, seems to rather comfort them. You know that your have inspired the modest sciUptor to carve life has been passed amid manifold vicissi- the small relief which surmounted a rec- tudes, and that they may be deemed fortunate who have gained most honor, whether an hon- ord giving the names of those who had orable death like theirs or an honorable sor- died for their country, and it is in its row like yours, and whose days have been ~ turn an eloquent funeral oration in stone. ordered that the term of their happiness is I can, finally, not refrain from pointing likewise the term of their life. I know how to an analogy which is as interesting as hard it is to make you feel this, when the good it is significant. I mean the resemblance, fortune of others will too often remind you of down to some phrases, between the funer- the gladness which once lightened your hearts. al oration of Pericles and the short yet And sorrow is felt at the want of those bless- ings, not which a man never knew, but which nionumental oration of President Lincoln were a part of his life before they were taken at Gettysburg. And it would well repay from him. Some of you are of an age at which us if we should dwell upon the compar- they may hope to have other children, and ison of these words, more lasting than they ought to bear their sorrow better; not bronze, spoken at such critical periods in only will the children who may hereafter be the history of their nation by Pericles born make them forget their own lost ones, and by Lincoln. I leave the reader to but the city will be doubly a gainer. She will not be left desolate, and she will be safer. For ponder over this comparison, and would a man~s counsel cannot have equal weight or but add that this speech of Lincolns, worth when he alone has no children to risk short and modest in form, is yet none in the general danger. To those of you who the less grand and monumental, as is have passed their prime, I say: Congratulate the small relief of our Attic sculptor. yourselves that you have been happy during the greater part of your days; remember that Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers your life of sorrow will not last long, and be brought forth upon this continent a new na- comforted by the glory of those who are gone. tion, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the For the love of honor alone is ever young; and proposition that all mep are created equal. not riches, as some say, but honor is the delight Now we are engaged in a great civil war, test- of men when they are old and useless. ing whether that nation, or any nation so con- To you who are the sons and brothers of ceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We the departed, I see that the struggle to emu- are met on a great battle-field of that war. We late thema will be an arduous one. For all men have come to dedicate a portion of that field praise the dead, and however pre-eminent your as a final resting-place for those who here gave virtue may be, hardly will you he thought, I their lives that that nation might live. It is do not say to equal, but even to approach altogether fitting and proper that we should them. The living have their rivals and de- do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedi- tractors, but when a man is out of the way cate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow the honor and good-will which he receives is this ground. The brave men, living and dead, JANE FIELD. 15 who struggled here, have consecrated it far that from these honored dead we take in- above our power to add or detract. The world creased devotion to that cause for which they will little note, nor long remember, what we gave the last full measure of devotion; that say here, but it can never forget what they did we here highly resolve that these dead shall here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedi- not have died in vain; that this nation, under cated here to the unfinished work which they God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and who fought here have thus far so nobly ad- that government of the people, by the people, vanced. It is rather for us to be here dedi- and for the people shall not perish from the cated to the great task remaining before us, earth. JANE FJELD.* BY MARY E. WILKINS. were almost overcome by the unusual- CHAPTER ~ ness of it. IT was many years since Mrs. Field had Jane Field was a woman after their taken any but the most trivial jour- kind, and the look on their faces had its neys. Elliot was a hundred and twenty grand multiple in the look on hers. She miles away. She must go to Boston; then had not only stepped out of her rut, but cross the city to the other depot, where she was going out of sight of it forever. she would take the Elliot train. This She sat there stiff and silent, her two elderly unsophisticated woman might feet braced against the floor, ready to lift very reasonably have been terrified at the her at the signal of the train, her black idea of taking this journey alone, but she leather bag grasped firmly in her right was not. She never thought .of it. hand. The latter half of the road to the Green The two women eyed her furtively. River station lay through an unsettled One nudged the other. Know who that district. There were acres of low birch is ? she whispered. But neither of them woods and lusty meadow - lands. This knew. They were from the adjoining morning they were covered with a gold- town, which this railroad served as well green dazzle of leaves. To one looking as Green River. across them, they almost seemed played Sometimes Mrs. Field looked at them, over by little green flowers; now and then but with no speculation; the next moment a young birch-tree stood away from the she looked in the same way upon the be- others, and shone by itself like a very longings of the little country depotthe torch of spring, battered yellow settees, the time-tables, Mrs. Field walked steadily through it. the long stove in its tract of littered saw- She had never paused to take much dust, the mans face in the window of the thought of the beauty of nature; to-day a ticket office. tree all alive and twinkling with leaves Dreadful cross-lookin, aint she ? might, for all her notice, have been na- one of the women whispered in the oth- ked and stiff with frost. ers ear. She did not seem to walk fast, but her Jane heard the whisper, and looked at long steps carried her over the ground them. The women gave each other vi- well. It was long before train-time when olent pokes, they reddened and titter- she came in sight of the little station with ed nervously, then they tried to look out its projecting piazza roofs. She.entered of the window with an innocent and ab- the ladies room and bought her ticket, sent air. But they need not have been then she sat down and waited. There troubled. Jane, although she heard the were two other women theremiddle- whisper perfectly, did not connect it with aged countrywomen in awkward wool herself at all. She never thought much gowns and flat straw bonnets, with a cer- about her own appearance; this morning tam repressed excitement in their home- she had as little vanity as though she ly faces. They were setting their large, were dead. faithful, cloth-gaitered feet a little outside When the whistle of the train sounded, their daily ruts, and going to visit some the women all pushed anxiously out on relatives in a neighboring town; they the platform. * Begun In May number, 1892.

Mary E. Wilkins Wilkins, Mary E. Jane Field. A Novel. 15-24

JANE FIELD. 15 who struggled here, have consecrated it far that from these honored dead we take in- above our power to add or detract. The world creased devotion to that cause for which they will little note, nor long remember, what we gave the last full measure of devotion; that say here, but it can never forget what they did we here highly resolve that these dead shall here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedi- not have died in vain; that this nation, under cated here to the unfinished work which they God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and who fought here have thus far so nobly ad- that government of the people, by the people, vanced. It is rather for us to be here dedi- and for the people shall not perish from the cated to the great task remaining before us, earth. JANE FJELD.* BY MARY E. WILKINS. were almost overcome by the unusual- CHAPTER ~ ness of it. IT was many years since Mrs. Field had Jane Field was a woman after their taken any but the most trivial jour- kind, and the look on their faces had its neys. Elliot was a hundred and twenty grand multiple in the look on hers. She miles away. She must go to Boston; then had not only stepped out of her rut, but cross the city to the other depot, where she was going out of sight of it forever. she would take the Elliot train. This She sat there stiff and silent, her two elderly unsophisticated woman might feet braced against the floor, ready to lift very reasonably have been terrified at the her at the signal of the train, her black idea of taking this journey alone, but she leather bag grasped firmly in her right was not. She never thought .of it. hand. The latter half of the road to the Green The two women eyed her furtively. River station lay through an unsettled One nudged the other. Know who that district. There were acres of low birch is ? she whispered. But neither of them woods and lusty meadow - lands. This knew. They were from the adjoining morning they were covered with a gold- town, which this railroad served as well green dazzle of leaves. To one looking as Green River. across them, they almost seemed played Sometimes Mrs. Field looked at them, over by little green flowers; now and then but with no speculation; the next moment a young birch-tree stood away from the she looked in the same way upon the be- others, and shone by itself like a very longings of the little country depotthe torch of spring, battered yellow settees, the time-tables, Mrs. Field walked steadily through it. the long stove in its tract of littered saw- She had never paused to take much dust, the mans face in the window of the thought of the beauty of nature; to-day a ticket office. tree all alive and twinkling with leaves Dreadful cross-lookin, aint she ? might, for all her notice, have been na- one of the women whispered in the oth- ked and stiff with frost. ers ear. She did not seem to walk fast, but her Jane heard the whisper, and looked at long steps carried her over the ground them. The women gave each other vi- well. It was long before train-time when olent pokes, they reddened and titter- she came in sight of the little station with ed nervously, then they tried to look out its projecting piazza roofs. She.entered of the window with an innocent and ab- the ladies room and bought her ticket, sent air. But they need not have been then she sat down and waited. There troubled. Jane, although she heard the were two other women theremiddle- whisper perfectly, did not connect it with aged countrywomen in awkward wool herself at all. She never thought much gowns and flat straw bonnets, with a cer- about her own appearance; this morning tam repressed excitement in their home- she had as little vanity as though she ly faces. They were setting their large, were dead. faithful, cloth-gaitered feet a little outside When the whistle of the train sounded, their daily ruts, and going to visit some the women all pushed anxiously out on relatives in a neighboring town; they the platform. * Begun In May number, 1892. 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Is this the train that goes to Boston ? dark flash of jet or a flutter of lace on a Mrs. Field asked one of the other two. womans dress, caught her eye, but she I spose so, she replied, with a recip- did not see it. She had nothing in corn- rocative flutter. Im goin to ask sos to mon with anything of that kind; she had be sure. Im goin to Dale. to do with the primal facts of life. Coin- I always ask, her friend remarked, ing as she was out of the country quiet, with decision. she was quite unmoved by the thunder- When the train stopped, Mrs. Field in- ing rush of the city streets. She might quired of a brakeman. She was hardly have been deaf and blind for all the im- satisfied with his affirmative answer. pression it made upon her. Her own Are y6u the conductor ? said she, nature had grown so intense that it ap- sternly peering. parently had emanations, and surround- The young fellow gave a hurried wave ed her with an atmosphere of her own of his hand toward the conductor, There impenetrable to the world. he is, maam. It was nearly five oclock when she Mrs. Field asked him also, then she reached her station, and the train was hoisted herself into the car. When she ready. It was half past five when she had taken her seat, she put the same ques- arrived in Elliot. She got off the train, tion to a woman in front of her. and stalked, as if with a definite object, It was a five hours ride to Boston. around the depot platform. She did not Mrs. Field sat all the while in her for one second hesitate or falter. She place with her bag in her lap, and never went up to a man who was loading some stirred. There was a look of rigid prepa- trunks on a wagon, and asked him to di- ration about her, as if all her muscles rect her to Lawyer Tuxburys office. Her were strained for an instant leap. voice was so abrupt and harsh that the Two young girls in the opposite seat man started. noticed her and tittered. They had con- Cross the track, an go up the street siderable merriment over her, twisting till you come to it, on the right-hand their pretty silly faces, and rolling their side, he answered. Then he stared cu- blue eyes in her direction, and then riously after her as she went on. averting them with soft repressed chuc- Lawyer Tuxburys small neat sign was kles. fastened upon the door of the L of a Occasionally Mrs. Field looked over at large white house. There was a green them, thought of her Lois, and noted their yard, and some newly started flower beds. merriment gravely. She never dream- In one there was a clump of yellow daf- ed that they were laughing at her. If fodils. Two yellow - haired little girls she had, she would not have considered it were playing out in the yard. They twice. both stood still, staring with large wary It was four oclock when Mrs. Field blue eyes at Mrs. Field as she came up arrived in Boston. She had been in the the path. She never glanced toward city but once before, when she was a them. young girl. Still, she set out with no She stood like a black-draped statue hesitation to walk across the city to the before the office door, and knocked. No- depot where she must take the cars for body answered. Elliot. She could not afford a carriage, She knocked again louder. Then a and she would not trust herself in a street voice responded, Come in. Mrs. Field car. She knew her own head and her turned the knob carefully, and opened old muscles; she could allow for their the door. It led directly into the room. limitations, and preferred to rely upon There was a dull oil-cloth carpet, some them. beetling cases of heavy books, a few old Every few steps she stopped and asked arm-chairs, and one battered leather easy- a question as to her route, listening chair. A great desk stood against the sharply to the reply. Then she went farther wall, and a man was seated at it, straight enough, speeding between the in- with his back toward the door. He had formers like guide-posts. This old pro- white hair, to which the sunlight coming vincial threaded the city streets as un- through the west window gave a red- appreciatively as she had that morning gold tinge. the country one. Once in a while the Mrs. Field stood still, just inside the magnificence of some shop window, a door. Apart from anything else, the JANE FIELD. 17 room itself had a certain awe-inspiring Im pretty well, thank you, replied quality for her. She had never before Mrs. Field. She tried to bow, but her been in a lawyers office. She was fully back would not bend. possessed with the rural and feminine I am delighted to see you, said the ignorance and holy fear of all legal ap- lawyer. I recognize you perfectly now. purtenances. From all her traditions, I should have before, if the sun had this office door should have displayed a not been in my eyes. I never forget a grinning man or woman trap, which she face. must warily shun. He took ber by the hand, and shook She eyed the dusty oil-cloththe files it up and down effusively. Then he of black booksthe chairsthe man at pushed forward the leather easy-chair the desk, with his gilded white head. He with gracious insinuation. Mrs. Field wrote on steadily, and never stirred for a sat down, bolt-upright, on the extreme minute. Then he again sung out, sharp- verge of it. ly, Come in. The lawyer drew a chair to her side, He was deaf, and had, along with his seated himself, leaned forward until his insensibility to sounds, that occasional face fronted hers, and talked. His man- abnormal perception of them which the ner was florid, almost bombastic. He deaf seem sometimes to possess. He often had a fashion of working his face a good heard sounds when none were recogniza- deal when he talked. He conversed ble to other people. quite rapidly and fluently, but was wont Now, evidently having perceived no re- to interlard his conversation with what suIt from his first response, he had heard seemed majestically reflective pauses, dur- this second knock, which did not exist ing which he leaned back in his chair except in his own supposition and the and tapped the arm slowly. In fact his waiting womans intent. She had, in- flow of ideas failed him for a moment, deed, just at this point said to herself that his mind being so constituted that they she would slip out and knock again if he came in rapid and temporary bursts, did not look around. She had not the geyser fashion. He inquired when Mrs. courage to speak. It was almost as if Field arrived, was kindly circumstantial the deaf lawyer, piecing out his defective as to her health, touched decorously but ears with a subtler perception, had actu- not too mournfull~pon the late Thom- ally become aware of her intention, which as Maxwells illness and decease. He al- had thundered upon him like the knock luded to the letter which he had written itself. her, mentioning as a singular coincidence Mrs. Field made an inarticulate re- that at the moment of her entrance he sponse, and took a grating step forward. was engaged in writing another to her, The old man turned suddenly and saw to inquire if the former had been re- her. She stood back again; there was a ceived. shrinking stiffness about her attitude, but He spoke in terms of congratulation of she looked him full in the face. the property to which she had fallen heir, Why, good - day ! he exclaimed, and intimated that further discussion con- Good-day, madam. I didnt hear you cerning it, as a matter of business, had come in. better be postponed until morning. Dan- Mrs. Field murmured a good - day in iel Tuxbury was very methodical in his return, care for himself, and was loath to attend Take a seat, madam. The lawyer to any business after six oclock. had risen, and was advancing toward her. Mrs. Field sat like a bol~t of iron while He was a small, sharp-eyed man, whose the lawyer talked to her. Unless a direct youthful agility had crystallized into a question demanded it, she never spoke nervous pomposity. Suddenly he stopped herself. But he did not seem to notice short, he had passed a broad slant of it; he had enough garnered-in compla- dusty sunlight which had lain between cency to delight himself, as a bee with him and his visitor, and he could see her its own honey. He rarely realized it face plainly. His own elongated for~a when another person did not talk. second, his under jaw lopped, and his After one of his pauses, he sprang up brows contracted. Then he stepped for- with alacrity. Mrs. Maxwell, will you ward. Why, Mrs. Maxwell ! said he; be so kind as to excuse me for a mo- how do you do ? ment I said he, and went out of the office 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with a fussy hitch, as if he wore invisible as I have, I spose. I dont expect youd petticoats. Mrs. Field heard his voice in know me, would you ? the yard. I dont know as I would. Mrs. When he returned there was an old Field recoiled from a lie even in the midst lady following in his wake. Mrs. Field of falsehood. saw her before he did. She came with a The old ladys face contracted a little, whispering of silk, but his deaf ears did but she could spring above her emotions. not perceive that. He did not notice her Well, I dont spose you would, either, at all until he had entered the office, then responded she, with fine alacrity. Ive he saw Mrs. Field looking past him at grown old and wrinkled and yellow, tIle door, and turned himself. though I aint gray, with a swift glance He went toward her with a little flour- at Mrs. Fields smooth curves of white ish of words, but the old lady ignored hair. You turned gray pretty young, him entirely. She held up her chin with didnt you, Esther ? a kind of ancient pertness, and eyed Mrs. Yes, I did. Field. She was a small, straight-backed The old ladys front hair hung in dark woman, full of nervous vibrations. She brown spirals, a little bunch of them stood apparently still, but her black silk against either cheek, outside her bonnet. whispered all the time, and loose ends of She set them dancing with a little dip black ribbon trembled. The black silk of her head when she spoke again. I had an air of old gentility about it, but it thought you did, said she. Well; was very shiny; there were many bows, youre comm over to my house, aint but the ribbons were limp, having been you, Esther? Youll find a good many pressed and dyed. Her face, yellow and changes there. My daughter lllora and deeply wrinkled, but sharply vivacious, I are all thats left now, you know, I was overtopped by a bunch of purple spose. flowers in a nest of rusty black lace and Mrs. Field moved her head uncertain- velvet. ly. This old woman, with her straight So far Mrs. Field had. maintained a demanc~s for truth or falsehood, was tor- certain strained composure, but now her ture to her. long, stern face began flushing beneath I suppose youll come right over with this old ladys gaze. e me pretty soon, the old lady went on. I conclude you know this lady, said I dont want to hurry you in your busi- the lawyer, with a blandly facetious air ness with Mr. Tuxbury, but I suppose my to the new-coiner. nephew will be home, and At that she stepped forward promptly, Im jest as much obliged to you, but with a jerk as if to throw 6ff her irres- I guess Id better not. Ive made some olution, and a certain consternation, other plans, said Mrs. Field. Yes, I spose I do, said she, in a voice Oh, we are going to keep Mrs. Max- like a shrill high chirp. Its Mis Max- well with us to-night, interposed the well, aint it Edwards wife? How do lawyer. He had stood by smilingly you do, Esther? I hadnt seen you for so while the two women talked. tong, I wasnt quite sure, but I see who Im jest as much obliged, but I guess you are now. How do you do ? Id better not, repeated Mrs. Field, look- Im pretty well, thank you, said ing at both of them. Mrs. Field, with a struggle putting her The old lady straightened herself in her twisted hand into the other womans, flimsy silk draperies. Well, of course, extended quiveringly in a rusty black if youve got other plans made, I aint glove. goin to urge you, Esther, said she; but When did you come to town, Es- any time you feel disposed to come, youll ther ? bewelcome. Good-evenin, Esther. Good- Jest now. evenin, Mr. Tuxhury. She turned with Let me see, where from? I cant seem a rustling bob, and was out the door. to remember the name of the place where The lawyer pressed forward hurriedly. youve been livin. I know it too. Why, Mrs. Maxwell, werent you com Green River. ing in? Isnt there something I can do Oh yes, Green River. Well, Im glad for you? said he. to see you, Esther. You aint changed No, thank you, replied the old lady, much, come to look at you; not so much shortly. Ive got to go home; its my SHE WALKED ON, WITH HEE STEEN, IMPASSIVE OLD FACE SET STRAIGHT AHEAD. VOL. LXXXV.No. 5053 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tea-time. I was goin by, and I thought Id jest look in a minute; that was all. It want anything. Good - evenin. She was half down the walk before she fin- ished speaking. She never looked around. The lawyer turned to Mrs. Field. Mrs. Henry Maxwell was not any too much pleased to see you sitting here, he whis- pered, with a confidential smile. She wouldnt say anything; shes as proud as Lucifer; but she was considerably taken aback. Mrs. Field nodded. She felt numb. She had not understood who this other woman was. She knew nowthe mother of the young woman who was the right- ful heir to Thomas Maxwells property. The old lady has been pretty anxious,~~ Mr. Tuxbury went on. Shes been in here a good many timesmade excuses to come in and see if I bad any news. She has been twice as much concerned as her daughter about it. Well, she has had a pretty bard time. That branch of the family lost a good deal of property. Mrs. Field rose abruptly. I guess Id better be goin, said she. It must be your tea - time. Ill come in again to- morrow. The lawyer put up his hand depreca- tingly. Mrs. Maxwell, you will of course stay and take tea with us, and remain with us to-night. Im jest as much obliged to you for invitin me, but I guess Id better be goin.~~ My sister is expecting you. You re- member my sister, Mrs. Lowe. Ive just sent word to her. You had better come right over to the house with me now, and to-morrow morning we can attend to busi- ness. You must be fatigued with your ~journey. Im real sorry if your sisters put her- self out, but I guess Id better not stay. The lawyer turned his ear interrogative- ly. I beg your pardon, but I didnt quite understand. You think you cant stay? Immuch obliged to your sister an you for invitin me, butI guessId bet- ternot. WhybutMrs. Maxwell! Just be seated again for a moment, and let me speak to my sister; perhaps she Im jest as much obliged to her, but I feel as if Id better be goin. Mrs. Field stood before him, mildly unyielding. She seemed to waver toward his will, but all the time she abided toughly in her own self like a willow bough. But, Mrs. Maxwell, what can you do? said the lawyer, his manner full of per- plexity, and impatience thinly veiled by courtesy. The hotel here is not very desirable, and Cant I go right up tothe house? The Maxwell house? Yes, sir; if there aint anything to hinder. Mr. Tuxbury stared at her. Why, I dont know that there is really anything to hinder, he said, slowly. Although it is rather No, I dont know as there is any actual objection to your going. I suppose the house belongs to you. But it is shut up. I think you would find it much pleasanter here, Mrs. Maxwell. His eyebrows were raised, his mouth pursed up. I guess Id better go, if I can jest as well as not; if I can get into the house. Mrs. Field spoke with deprecating persist- ency. Mr. Tuxbury turned abruptly toward his desk, and began fumbling in a drawer. She stood hesitatingly watchful. If you would jest tell me where Id find the key, she ventured to remark. She had a vague idea that she would be told to look under a parlor blind for the key, that being the innocent con utry hiding-place when the house was left alone. I have the key, and I will go to the house with you myself directly. I hate to make you so much trouble. I guess I could find it myself, if I will be ready immediately, Mrs. Max- well, said the lawyer, in a smoothly con- clusive voice which abashed her. She stood silently by the door until he was ready. He took her black bag pe- remptorily, and they went side by side down the street. He held his head well back, his lips were still tightly pursed, and he swung his cane with asperity. His important and irascible nature was oddly disturbed by this awkwardly ob- stinate old woman stalking at his side in her black clothes. Feminine oppo- sition, even in slight matters, was wont to aggravate him, but in no such degree as this. He found it hard to recover his usual courtesy of manner, and in- deed scarcely spoke a word during the walk. He could not himself understand his discomposure. But Mrs. Field did not seem to notice. She walked on, with her stern, impassive old face set straight ahead. Once they met a young girl who JANE FIELD. 21 made her think of Lois; her floating draperies brushed against her black gown, for a second there was a pale, innocent little face looking up into her own. It was not a very long walk to the Max- well house. Here we are, said the lawyer, cold- ly, and unlatched a gate, and held it open with stiff courtesy for his companion to pass. They proceeded in silence up the long curve of walk which led to the front door. The walk was brown and slippery with pine needles. Tall old pine- trees stood in groups about the yard. There were also elm and horse-chestnut trees. The horse-chestnuts were in blossom, holding up their white bouquets, which showed dimly. It was now quite dusky. Back of the trees the house loomed up. It was white and bulky, with fluted cor- nices and corner posts, and a pillared porch to the front door. Mrs. Field passed between the two outstanding pil- lars, which reared themselves whitely over her, like ghostly sentries, and stood waiting while Mr. Tuxbury fitted the key to the lock. It took quite a little time; he could not see very well, he had forgotten his spec- tacles in his impatient departure. But at last he jerked open the door, and a strange conglomerate odor, the very breath of the life of the old Maxwell house, steamed out in their faces. All bridal and funeral feasts, all daily food, all garments which had hung in the closets and rustled through the rooms, every piece of furniture, every carpet and hanging, had a part in it. The rank and hitter emanations of life, as well as spices and sweet herbs and delicate perfumes, went to make up the breath which smote one in the face upon the opening of the door. Still it was not a disagreeable, but rather a suggestive and poetical odor, which should affect one like a reminiscent dream. However, the village people sniffed at it, and said, How musty that old house is ! That was what Daniel Tuxbury said now. The house is musty, he remark- ed, with stately nose in the air. Mrs. Field made no response. She stepped inside at once. Im much obliged to you, said she. The lawyer looked at her, then past her into the dark depths of the house. You cant see, said he. You must let me go in with you and get a light. He spoke in a tone of short politeness. He was in his heart utterly out of patience with this strange, stiff old woman. I guess I can find one. I hate to make you so much trouble. Mr. Tuxhury stepped forward with de- cision, and began fumbling in his pocket for a match. Of course you cannot find one in the dark, Mrs. Maxwell, said he, with open exasperation. She said nothing more, but stood meek- ly in the hall until a light flared out from a room on the left. The lawyer had found a lamp, he was himself somewhat familiar with the surround- ings, but on the way to it he stumbled over a chair with an exclamation. It sounded like an oath to Mrs. Field, but she thought she must be mistaken. She had never in her life heard many oaths, and when she did had never been able to believe her ears. I hope you didnt hurt you, said she, deprecatingly, stepping forward. I am not hurt, thank you. But the twinge in the lawyers ankle was confirming his resolution to say nothing more to her on the subject of his regret and unwillingness that she should choose to refuse his hospitality, and spend such a lonely and uncomfortable night. I wont say another word to her about it, he de- clared to himself. So he simply made arrangements with her for a meeting at his office the next morning to attend to the business for which there had been no time to-night, and took his leave. I never saw such a woman, was his conclusion of the story which he related to his sister upon his return home. His sister was a widow, and just then her married daughter and two children were visiting her. I wish youd let me know she want comm, said she. I cut the fruit cake an opened a jar of peach, an Ive put clean sheets on the front chamber bed. Its made considerable work for nothin. She eyed, as she spoke, the two children, who were happily eating the peach pre- serve. She and her brother were both quite well - to - do, but she had a parsimo- nious turn. Id like to know what shell have for supper, she remarked further. I didnt ask her, said the lawyer, dryly, taking a sip of his sauce. He was rather glad of the peach himself. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. I shouldnt think shed sleep a wink, all alone in that great old house. I know I shouldnt, observed the childrens mo- ther. She was a fair, fleshy, quite pretty young woman. That woman would sieep on a tomb- stone if she set out to, said the lawyer. His speech, when alone with his own household, was more forcible and not so well regulated. Indeed, he did not come of a polished family; he was the only educated one among them. His sister, Mrs. Lowe, regarded him with all the def- erence and respect which her own de- cided and self - sufficient character could admit of, and often sounded his praises in her unrestrained New England dialect. She seemed like a real set kind of a woman, then? said she now. Set is no name for it, replied her brother. Well, if thats so, I guess old Mr. Maxwell want so far wrong when he didnt have her down here before, she remarked, with a judicial air. Her spec- tacles glittered, and her harsh, florid face bent severely over the sugar-bowl and the cups and saucers. The lamp-light was mellow in the neat, homely dining-room, and there was a soft aroma of boiling tea all about. The pink and white children ate their peach sauce in happy silence, with their pretty eyes upon the prospective cake. I suppose there must be some bed made up in all that big house, remarked their mother; but it must be awful lonesome. Of the awful lonesomeness of it truly, this smiling, comfortable young soul had no conception. At that moment, while they were drinking their tea and talking her over, Jane Field sat bolt-upright in one of the old flag-bottomed chairs in the Maxwell sitting-room. She had dropped into it when the lawyer closed the door after him, and she never stirred after- ward. She sat there all night. The oil was low in the lamp which the lawyer had lighted, and left standing on the table between the windows. She could see distinctly for a while the stately pieces of old furniture standing in their places against the walls. Just opposite where she sat was one of lustreless old mahogany, extending the width of the wall between two doors, rearing itself upon slender legs, set with multitudinous drawers, and surmounted by a clock. A piece of furniture for which she knew no name, an evidence of long - established wealth and old - fashioned luxury, of which she and her plain folk, with their secretaries and desks and bureaus, had known nothing. The clock had stopped at three oclock. Mrs. Field thought to herself that it might have been the hour on which old Mr. Maxwell died, reflecting that souls were more apt to pass away in the nave of the night. She would have liked to wind the clock, and set the hands moving past that ghostly hour, but she did not dare to stir. She gazed at the large dull figures sprawling over the old carpet, at the glimmering satiny scrolls on the wall-paper. On the mantel-shelf stood a branching gilt candlestick, filled with colored candles, and strung around with prisms, which glittered feebly in the low lamp-light. There was a bulging sheet-iron wood stovethe Maxwells had always eschewed coal; beside it lay a lit- tle pile of sticks, brought in after the chill of death had come over the house. There were a few old engravings a head of Washington, the Landing of the Pilgrims, the Webster death - bed scene, and one fulllength portrait of the old statesman, standing majestically, scroll in hand, in a black frame. As the oil burned low, the indistinct. figures upon the carpet and wall -paper grew more indistinct, the brilliant colors of the prisms turned white, and the fin& black and white lights in the death-bed picture ran together. Finally the lamp went out. Mrs. Field had spied matches over on the shelf, but she did not dare to rise to cross the room to get them and find another lamp. She did not dare to stir. After her light went out, there was still a pale glimmer upon the opposite wall, and the white face of the silent clock showed out above the cumbersome shad- ow of the great mahogany piece. Th& glimmer came from a neighbors lamp shining through a gap in the trees. Soon that also went out, and the old woman sat there in total darkness. She folded her hands primly, and held up her bonneted head in the darkness, like some decorous and formal caller wh& might expect at any moment to hear the soft, heavy step of the host upon the creaking stair and his voice in the room. She sat there so all night. Gradually this steady - headed, unima JANE ETELD. 23 ginative old woman became possessed by a legion of morbid fancies, which played like wildfire over the terrible main fact of the casethe fact which underlay ev- erythingthat she had sinned, that she had gone over from good to evil, and given up her soul for a handful of gold. Many a time in the night, voices which her straining fancy threw out, after the manner of ventriloquism, from her own brain, seemed actually to vibrate through the house, footsteps pattered, and garments rustled. Often the phantom noises would swell to a very pandemoninm surging upon her ears; but she sat there rigid and resolute in the midst of it, her pale old face sharpening out into the darkness. She sat there, and never stirred until morning broke. When it was fairly light, she got up, took off her bonnet and shawl, and found her way into the kitchen. She washed her face and hands at the sink, and went deliberately to work getting herself some breakfast. She had a little of her yester- days lunch left; she kindled a fire, and made a cup of tea. She found some in a caddy in the pantry. She set out her meal on the table, and drew a chair be- fore it. She had wound up the kitchen clock, and she listened to its tick while she ate. She took time, and finished her slight repast to the last crumb. Then she washed the dishes, and swept and tidied the kitchen. When that was done it was still too early for her to go to the lawyers office. She sat down at an open kitchen window and folded her hands. Outside was a broad green yard, enclosed on two sides by the Maxwell house and barn. A drive- way led to the barn, and on the farther side a row of apple-trees stood. There was a fresh wind blowing, and the apple blossoms were floating about. The drive was quite white with them in places, and they were half impaled upon the sharp green blades of grass. Over through the trees Mrs. Field could see the white top of a market wagon in a neighboring yard, and the pink dress of a woman who stood beside it trading. She watched them with a dull wonder. What had she now to do with market wagons and daily meals and housewifely matters? That fair-haired woman in the pink dress seemed to her like a woman of another planet. This narrow-lived old countrywoman could not consciously moralize. She was no philosopher, but she felt, without put- ting it into thoughts, as if she had de- scended far below the surface of all things, and found out that good and evil were the root and the life of them, and the outside leaves and froth and flowers were fathoms away, and no long- er to be considered. At ten oclock she put on her bonnet and shawl, and set out for the lawyers office. She locked the front door, put the key under a blind, and proceeded down ~- the front walk into the street. The spring was earlier here than in Green River. She started at a dancing net-work of leaf shadows on the sidewalk. They were the first she had seen this sea- son. There was a dewy arch of trees overhead, and they were quite fully leaved out. Mr. Tuxbury was in his office when she got there. He rose promptly and greeted her, and pushed forward the lea- ther easy-chair with his old courtly flour- ish. I suppose that old stick of a woman will be in pretty soon, he had remarked to his sister at breakfast-time. Well, youll keep on the right side of her, if you know which side your bread is buttered, she retorted. You dont want her goin to Sam Tottens. Totten was the other lawyer of Elliot. I think I am quite aware of all the exigencies of the case, Daniel Tuxbury had replied, lapsing into stateliness, as he always did when his sister waxed too forcible in her advice. But when Mrs. Field entered his office, every trace of his last nights impatience had vanished. He inquired genially if she had passed a comfortable night, and on being assured that she had, pressed her to drink a cup of coffee which he had re- quested his sister to keep warm. This declined with her countrified courtesy, so shy that it seemed grim, he proceeded, with no chill upon his graciousness, to business. Through the next two hours Mrs. Field sat at the lawyers desk, and listened to a minute and wearisome description of her new possessions. She listened with very little understanding. She did not feel any interest in it. She never opened her mouth except now and then for a stiff as- sent to a question from the lawyer. A little after twelve oclock he leaned back in his chair with a conclusive sigh, 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and fixed his eyes reflectively upon the ceiling. Well, Mrs. Maxwell, said he, I think that you understand pretty well now the extent and the limitations of your property. Yes, sir, said she. It is all straight enough. Maxwell was a good business man; he kept his af- fairs in excellent order. Yes, he was a very good business man. Suddenly the lawyer straightened himself, and fixed his eyes with genial interest upon his visitor; business over, he had a mind for a little personal interview to show his good-will. Let me see, Mrs. Maxwell, you had a sister, did you not? said he. Yes, sir. Is she living? EVERAL of our nota- ble as well as noto- rious human, so- cial, and civic cus- toms find their pre- historic prototypes in the insect king- dom. The mo- narchical institu- tion sees its singu- lar prophecy in the wvz~r domestic economy of the bees. War and slavery have always been carried on systematically and effectually by ants, and, according to Huber and other au No, sir. Mrs. Field said it with a gasping readiness to speak one truth. Let me see, what was her name? asked the lawyer. No; wait a moment; Ill tell you. Ive heard it. He held up a hand as if warding off an answer from her, his face became furrowed with reflective wrinkles. Field ! cried he, suddenly, with a jerk, and beamed at her. I thought I could remember it, said he. Yes, your sisters name was Field. When did she die, Mrs. Maxwell? Two years ago. There was a strange little smothered exclamation from some one near the office door. Mrs. Field turned suddenly, and saw her daughter Lois standing there. [To BE CONTINUED.] thorities, agriculture, gardening, and an industry very like dairy farming have been time-honored customs among this same wise and thrifty insect tribe, whose claims to thoughtful consideration were so long ago voiced by Solomon of pro- verbial fame. Th~venot mentions Sol- omons ant as among the beasts which shall enter paradise. Indeed, the human saint as well as sluggard may go to the ant for many suggestive hints and com- mentaries. These are only a few of the more nota- ble parallelisms which suggest themselves. But others are not wanting if we care to follow the subject. In addition to the BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON. A

William Hamilton Gibson Gibson, William Hamilton A Honey-Dew Picnic. 24-30

24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and fixed his eyes reflectively upon the ceiling. Well, Mrs. Maxwell, said he, I think that you understand pretty well now the extent and the limitations of your property. Yes, sir, said she. It is all straight enough. Maxwell was a good business man; he kept his af- fairs in excellent order. Yes, he was a very good business man. Suddenly the lawyer straightened himself, and fixed his eyes with genial interest upon his visitor; business over, he had a mind for a little personal interview to show his good-will. Let me see, Mrs. Maxwell, you had a sister, did you not? said he. Yes, sir. Is she living? EVERAL of our nota- ble as well as noto- rious human, so- cial, and civic cus- toms find their pre- historic prototypes in the insect king- dom. The mo- narchical institu- tion sees its singu- lar prophecy in the wvz~r domestic economy of the bees. War and slavery have always been carried on systematically and effectually by ants, and, according to Huber and other au No, sir. Mrs. Field said it with a gasping readiness to speak one truth. Let me see, what was her name? asked the lawyer. No; wait a moment; Ill tell you. Ive heard it. He held up a hand as if warding off an answer from her, his face became furrowed with reflective wrinkles. Field ! cried he, suddenly, with a jerk, and beamed at her. I thought I could remember it, said he. Yes, your sisters name was Field. When did she die, Mrs. Maxwell? Two years ago. There was a strange little smothered exclamation from some one near the office door. Mrs. Field turned suddenly, and saw her daughter Lois standing there. [To BE CONTINUED.] thorities, agriculture, gardening, and an industry very like dairy farming have been time-honored customs among this same wise and thrifty insect tribe, whose claims to thoughtful consideration were so long ago voiced by Solomon of pro- verbial fame. Th~venot mentions Sol- omons ant as among the beasts which shall enter paradise. Indeed, the human saint as well as sluggard may go to the ant for many suggestive hints and com- mentaries. These are only a few of the more nota- ble parallelisms which suggest themselves. But others are not wanting if we care to follow the subject. In addition to the BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON. A A HONEY-DEW PICNIC. 25 many models of thrift and virtuous in- dustry, embodying types of many of the trade employments known to humanity, have we not also among these meadow tribes~~ our luxurious ~ and ex- quisites, the butterflies and flower-haunt- ing flies and dandy beetles; and, op- posed to all these, the suggestive antithe- sis of the promiscuous marauders, thieves, and brigands everywhere interspersed? Thus we have our individual insect assassin and assassination organized in war; so, on the other hand, have we our insect merrymakers; why not, then, our picnic or carnival? Such I am moved to call the singular episode which I observed last summer, and which I have endeavored to picture as true to the life as possible in the ac- companying presentment. The sceptic will perhaps remark on examination that the scene is characterized by somewhat too free a license to warrant the ideal of a picnic. But he is hypercritical. There are picnics and picnicspicnics of high and of low degree. Do I not recall more than one notorious festive outing of the next lower than the angels in which the personnel seemed about similarly pro- portioned, and the fun and attraction com- paratively related to the license? One July afternoon a year ago I was returning home from one of my botaniz- ing strolls. I had just emerged from a deep wood, and was skirting its border, when my attention was caught by a small fluttering swarm of butterflies, which start- ed up at my approach, and hovered about a blossoming blackberry bush a few yards in advance of me at the side of my path. The diversity of the butterfly species in the swarm struck me as singular, and the mere allurement of the blackberry blos- somsnot usually of especial attraction to butterfliescould hardly explain so ex- tensive a gathering. Here was the great yellow swallow-tail (Turnus) , red admiral (Atlanta), small yellow butterfly (Philo- dice), white cabbage-butterfly, comma and semicolon, and numerous small fry,flutter- ing about me in evident protest against my intrusion. They showed no inclina- tion to vacate the premises, so, in pursu- ance of one of the first articles of my saunterers creed, I concluded to retreat softly a few paces and watch for develop- ments. One by one the swarm sought their original haunt, settling on the bram- ble, and I now noticed that only in occa sional instances did the insects seek the flowers, the attraction seeming to be con- fined to the leaves. I stole up softly for a nearer point of observation, and could now distinctly see the beautiful yellow and black open wings of the swallow-tail softly gliding or gently fluttering as it hung from the edge of a leaf, while it ex- plored its surface with its uncoiled capil- lary tongue. Just beyond my Turnus, on another leaf, I now noted a new presence, the orange Aphrodite butterfly, silvery spotted, its nether wings being folded over its back, too much absorbed to have been startled by my first approach. Occasion- ally, without any cause which I could de- tect from my present positioncertainly in no way connected with my presence a small swarm of the butterflies would rise in a flutter above the bush, as though actuated by a common whim a brief winged tangle in which a beautiful sprite of velvety black hovering in a globular halo, shot through with two white semi- circular arcs, was always a momentary feature. Carefully stealing through the tall grass, I now approached to within touching dis- tance of the haunt, and was soon lost in mingled wonder, amusement, and surprise at the picnic now disclosed, the occasional butterfly swarm being now easily explain- ed. From my first point of view only the top of the bramble spray was visible above the grass, and by far the most in- teresting portion of the exercises had been concealed from view. The butterflies, while naturally the most conspicuous ele- ment, were now seen to be in a small minority among the insect gathering, the bramble leaves being peopled with a most motley and democratic assemblage of in- sects. Class distinctions were apparently forgotten in the common enthusiasm; the plebeian bluebottle and blowfly now con- sorted with Aphrodite and sipped at the same drop. Many a leaf was begemmed with the blue bodies closely set side by side or in a close cluster. The meat-fly, house-fly, and horse-fly made themselves promiscuous in every portion of the spray, and what with the rainbow-eyed and ruby- eyed flies, black and silver-banded flower- flies, and other tiny, restless, iridescent atoms of the fly fraternity, the family of Musca was well represented at the feast. Nor were these all the guests at the banquetfor banquet there certainly was, judging from the eager sipping and crowd- 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing everywhere upon the leaves, the flow- ers even yet, as I first noticed, seeming to have little attraction. I have no direct means of knowing as to the social discrimination of the host as shown in the entertainment, for that invi- tations were issued, the subsequent facts would show. But I have good reasons for believing, from the course of events, that the gathering included a number of questionable personages that were not counted upon. Here, for instance, was an overwhelm- ing contingent of the whole tough gang of wasps and hornetsbrown wasps from under the eaves and fences; black hornets from the big paper nests; yellow-jackets from where you please; deep steel-blue wire-waisted wasps from the mud cells in the garret, to say nothing of an occasion- al longer-waisted digger-wasp, and a host of their allied lesser associates scattered around generously among the assemblage. Every now and then a big darning-nee- dle took a shimmering circuit about the bush, and doubtless knew what he was about; as did also what at first glimpse appeared to be a big bumblebee, which seemed to find attraction in the neighbor- hood, although he seldom alighted upon the leaves, preferring to sit upon a neigh- boring weed and watch his opportunities. I have thus described a few of the more prominent guests or personages present at the feast. But I have reported little of their goings on. Doubtless there were appropriate toasts and responses, or what in bug etiquette answered to this seemingly indispensable human fad, while as to that other festive social es- sential of after-dinner speeches, coupled in this case with most vigorous discus- sion, I am certain the air was blue with something of this sort, if the eloquent pantomime bore any significance. Here, for instance, is one isolated, but frequent, episode. A peaceable little group of plain bluebottle-flies, with but a single thought, are all sipping at the same drop in con- tentment. A brief respite, for now the tips of a pair of inquisitive antenna~ ap- pear from the under edge of the leaf upon which they are sipping, and gingerly ex- plore the upper surface. They are quick- ly followed by the covetous almond-eyed gaze of a brown wasp, that now steals cautiously around to the upper surface, and appears wholly engrossed in licking the leaf. Nearer and nearer he sidles up to the group of flies, and now with delib- erate purpose and open jaws makes a dash among them. But they are too quick for him, and are away in a glit- tering blue tangle, which finally concen- trates itself upon a neighboring leaf, where the eager tippling is immediately resumed. The wasp now holds the fort, and seems in no mood to be trifled with. With head and fore feet upraised and open jaws, he seems spoiling for a fight, and ready to make war upon the first comer. But no, he is evidently expecting a friend, that, I now observe, approaches him de- terminedly down the stem of the leaf, The new-coiner, a brown wasp like him- self, is now at close range, and in an in- stant more, without any visible courteous preliminaries, the two set upon each oth- er with a common enthusiasm, and with jaws working and stings fencing the in- terlocked combatants fall to the ground for a finish. I presume the affair was carried to the fourteenth round without any undue interference. Another and another of these friendly meetings between them and other wasps took place in the half-hour in which I watched the sport. There were lulls in hostilities, during which an atmosphere of perfect peace and harmony seemed to reign around my bramble - bush. The flies were motionless in their ecstasy, and the hornet element seemed by common consent to keep temporarily shady, and even the butterflies seemed to forget that they had wings. But not for long, for now with a shimmering glitter our darn- ing-needle invades the scene, and retires to a convenient perch with a ruby-eyed fly in his teeth, while a swarm of very startled butterflies tells conspicuously of the demoralization which he has left in his path. Among the butterfly represent- atives I at length observed one individ- ual which at first had escaped me, an exclusive white cabbage-butterfly which sipped quietly at itis leaf in the shade, and seemed to take little interest in the disreputable actions of his associates. Nothing could move him or entice him away from his convivial employment. But, alas! his folly soon found him out, for, on happening to look again, I observed he had found a new acquaintance, a hor- net that had evidently been long desirous of meeting him. One by one I saw my butterflys dismembered wings fall to the grassy jungle below, while a big black THE PICNIC, 28 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. wasp proceeded to enjoy the collected sweets which he had doubtless observed were being so carefully stored away there in the shady retreat. And now my pretty black butterfly no, it proved to be the little day-flying grapevine - moth, the eight-spotted black Alypia appeared from some unseen source, and spun his crapy white-streaked halo among the leaves, at length settling among a little company of flies. Softly behind him creeps a brown wasp (Po- listes), with his mouth watering, while from the opposite quarter a steel - blue mud - wasp approaches, with apparently similar designs. Neither invader sees the other. Simultaneously, as though answering to a signal, the two make a dash at the moth; but he is too quick for them. In a twinkling he is off in his pretty halo again, while the two disap- pointed contestants have clinched, and with stings and jaws vigorously plying, fall to the jungle below, and seek satis- faction in mortal combat. Here is a pretty little yellow and black banded flower-fly, which is having a quiet little picnic all by himself on a bed of yarrow bloom close by. But a big black paper-hornet has suddenly seen an attrac- tion hither also, and is soon creeping stealthily among the blossoms with a wild and hungry look. But the hornets seem- ed to waste their time on the flies. Seem- ingly confident in their less complicated wing machinery, the two-winged fly rare- ly sought escape until within very close range of the enemy, and his resources never seemed to disappoint him at the critical moment. Among the insect assemblage was a large number of ants of all kinds and sizes, the common large black species be- ing conspicuous. Here is one creeping and sipping along a grass stem. A small digger-wasp likes this grass stem too, but instead of exchanging courtesies on the subject, the wasp proceeds to bite the ants head off without ceremony, and continues sipping at the stem as though decapitation were a mere casual incident in its daily walk. On the same stem a big blowfly has alighted. Judging from appearances, he has had his fill of good things, and is now making his leisurely toilet in the pecul- iar fashion of his kind, rubbing down his back and wings with his hind legs, twist- ing his front feet into spirals, and ever and anon testing the strength of his elas- tic neck attachment as he threatens to pull his head from his body. This worldly act has been progressing for some moments under the gaze of a big black digger - wasp, who now con- cludes to cut it short. When at close range with his prey, the fly suddenly discovers the unhealthy location which he occupies, and actually protruding his tongue by way of parting salute, he is off with a buzz. He has barely taken wing, however, when a still louder buzz is heard, while a great black bumblebee follows closely in his wake, until the sounds of both are lost in the distance. The hum of this bumblebee is a fre- quent musical feature of the entertain- ment, and many is the dance that is set to its minstrelsy, as the burly insect darts in among the merrymakers, and is off to his perch near by. It is only as we steal away and observe him closely that we learn the secret of his occasional sorties. There on a clover blossom he sitssipping honey? Oh no. It is honey- dew that he is enjoying, and second-hand at that, as he devours the satiated blue- bottle-fly which is empaled on his black horny beak. For this is only a bumble- bee in masqueradea carnivorous fly, in truth, which, safe in its disguise of re- spectability, hovers in the flowery haunts of the innocents, and, of course, reaps his reward. And what is this? A yellow-jacket has found an ambrosial attraction here upon the bramble leaf. Meanwhile a great black and white paper-hornet has seen his opportunity, and is soon slyly approaching behind the sipper. That he has designs on that jacket and its con- tents is apparent. In a moment the on- slaught is consummated, and in the strug- gle which ensues the black assailant re- lieves his victim-of his watch presuma- bly, for he has captured the entire gar- ment, which he soon rifles and discards, with some show of satisfaction. And so my carnival proceeds. So it began with the dawn; so it will continue till dusk; and through the night, with new revels, for aught I know, and will be prolonged for days or weeks. Reflective reader, how often, as you have strolled through some nook in the suburban wood, have you paused in phi- losophic mood at the motley relics of A HONEY-DEW PICNIC. 29 good cheer which sophisticated the re- treat, so pathetically eloquent of pristine joys to which you had been a stranger? Here in my present picnic is the sug- gestive parallel, for even though no such actual episodes as those I have described had been witnessed by me, an examina- tion of the premises beneath my bramble were a sufficient commentary. These were the unimpeachable witnesses of the pleasures which I have pictured. Dis- membered butterfly wings strewed the grassy jungle, among which were a fair sprinkling from that black and white halo already noted. Occasional dead wasps and detached members of wasp and hornet anatomy were frequent, while the blue glitter of the bodies of flies lit up a shadowy recess here and there, showing that Musca had not always so correctly gauged his comparative wing resources as my observation had indicated. It was interesting to discover, too, down deep among the herbage, another suggestive fact in the presence of a shrewd spider that showed a keen eye to the main chance, and had spread his gos- samer catch-all beneath the bramble. It was all grist into his mill, and no doubt his charnel-house at the base of his silken tunnel could have borne eloquent testi- mony alike to his wise sagacity and his epicurean luxury. I have pictured my picnic, and the question naturally arises, what was it all about what the occasion for this celebration? There was certainly no dis- tinct visible cause for the social gathering upon this particular bramble-bush. There were a number of other bramble-bushes in the near neighborhood which, it would seem, should possess equal attractions, but which were ignored. In what respect did the one selected differ from the others? This bramble had become the scene of my carnival simply because it chanced to be directly beneath an overhanging branch of pine some twenty feet above. Here dwelt mine host who had issued the invitations and spread the feast, the limb for about a foot space being sur- rounded by a colony of aphides, or plant- lice, from whose distilling pipes the rain of sweet honey-dew had fallen ceaselessly upon the leaves below. The flies, butter- flies, and ants had been attracted, as al- ways, by its sweets; the preoccupied con- vivial flies, in turn, were a tempting bait for the wasps and hornets, and my dragon- fly and mock bumblebee found a similar attraction in the neighborhood. An examination of the trunk of the pine showed the inevitable double pro- cession of ants, both up and down the tree, with the habitual interchange of comment; and could we but have obtain- ed a closer glimpse of the pine branch above, we might certainly have observed the queer spectacle of the small army of ants interspersed everywhere among the swarm of aphides. Not in antagonism; indeed,quite the reverse; herders,in truth, jealously guarding their feeding flock, creeping among them with careful tread, caressing them with their antenn~e while they sipped at the honeyed pipes every- where upraised in most expressive and harmonious welcome. This intimate and friendly association of the ants and aphides has been the sub- ject of much interesting scientific investi- gation and surprising discovery. Huber and Lubbock have given to the world many startling facts, the significance of which may be gathered from the one statement that certain species of ants carry their devotion so far as literally to cultivate the aphides, carrying them bodi- ly into their tunnels, where they are placed in underground pens, reared and fed and utilized in a manner which might well serve as a pattern for the modern dairy farm. Indeed, after all that we have al- ready seen upon a single bramble-bush, would it be taking too much license with fact to add one more pictorial chronicle an exhilarated and promiscuous group of butterflies, ants, hornets, wasps, and flies uniting in a health to the jolly aphis ? THE BIRTHPLACE OF COMMODORE ISAAC HULL. BY JANE DE FOREST SHELTON. IF the portrait of some grandam who lived in the early days of the century could materialize, and stepping down, take her place beside the tailor-made girl of to-day, the difference would be no more marked than that between the good ship Constitution and a modern ocean greyhound. Nevertheless, in spite of the top-heaviness of the old ship as compared with the new, if the two sailed down our harbor, there would be no necessity for an order of hats off, and our heart-beats would tell us for which rang out the three times three. Well does this great foremother of ours command both love and reverence. Stanch was she with the strength of oak from the forest primeval; unwavering ever as the polestar in the path of duty; and like a true woman of the olden time, ere rights and suffrage had lifted their heads from the nether chaos, she obeyed her master, while he, true and brave man of the olden time that he was, loved and honored her. The last century had nearly finished its final decade ere the young United States made any effort to organize a navy. A few frigates were then built, and in 1798 Isaac Hull was appointed to one of them, with the rank of lieutenant in the navy. He had grown up in the merchant ser- vice, and at the mature age of nineteen commanded a ship and made a voyage to London. When called to serve his coun- try he was twenty-five years of age, and a distinguished ship-master in New York. With the opening of the new century the Constitution first came under his control, and ever remained his favorite. In the memorable year of 1812 he was again in command of this ship of his heart, which under his direction was destined to win from the people of this land a love akin to adoration, and the strong name of Old Ironsides. The war of the Revolution secured a free foothold to the successors of the first sturdy colonists. The fire of liberty no longer needed the protection of an armed host, but burned brightly on thousands of hearth-stones, sending through the wide- mouthed chimneys the smoke of its in- cense, ever floating upward in thanks- giving. But it was necessary that the blaze of battle fire should be reflected on the Atlantics breast ere the Unions right on the high seas was recognized. Isaac Hull not only secured for his country this freedom, but to him, as her repre- sentative, the standard of the mistress of the seas first bent itself. It was the cool presence of mind that is never taken unawares, the energy and fearlessness that admit of no result but success, and the strategic ability that gives the advan- tage over superior force and years of dis- ciplinethese, inherited from his father, and placed at the service of his country, established her claim to be a naval power. Now that the dust has settled, now that the mists that lay on the sea of dis- sension have been blown away by the pure breath of love for a common heri- tage in face and tongue, now that the hands of England and America are clasp= ed in ever - increasing friendliness, it is the valor, loyalty, and patriotism that are honored in a man whether he ranked once as friend or foe. In 1639hardly twenty years since the white - winged Mayflower had proved a bird of ill omen to the Massachusetts tribes, and the great Pequot war being ended-a small band of Connecticut col- onists chose for a new settlement the site of an old Indian village near Long Isl- and Sound, on the western bank of the Housatonic River. The Indian name of Cupheag gave place to Stratford in memory, according to the most pleasing tradition, of Stratford-on-Avon, the birth- place of some of their number. But in spite of the two claims of right and might the patent grant- ed by King James, and the conquest of territory in the Indian warsit was found desirable, after a time, to have still another basis for their claim as land- owners. After much parley, the Indians, charmed by the gleam and shine of sun- dry brass kettles, weapons of warfare, and the wonderful white mans thun- der, did ingadgeto waive all right to a certain extent of meadow, forest, and hill-ranges in exchange for these alluring commodities from beyond the big wa- ter. A display of penmanship follow- edquaint old English on the part of the whites, and mystic signatures, arrow-

Jane De Forest Shelton Shelton, Jane De Forest The Birthplace Of Commodore Isaac Hull 30-36

THE BIRTHPLACE OF COMMODORE ISAAC HULL. BY JANE DE FOREST SHELTON. IF the portrait of some grandam who lived in the early days of the century could materialize, and stepping down, take her place beside the tailor-made girl of to-day, the difference would be no more marked than that between the good ship Constitution and a modern ocean greyhound. Nevertheless, in spite of the top-heaviness of the old ship as compared with the new, if the two sailed down our harbor, there would be no necessity for an order of hats off, and our heart-beats would tell us for which rang out the three times three. Well does this great foremother of ours command both love and reverence. Stanch was she with the strength of oak from the forest primeval; unwavering ever as the polestar in the path of duty; and like a true woman of the olden time, ere rights and suffrage had lifted their heads from the nether chaos, she obeyed her master, while he, true and brave man of the olden time that he was, loved and honored her. The last century had nearly finished its final decade ere the young United States made any effort to organize a navy. A few frigates were then built, and in 1798 Isaac Hull was appointed to one of them, with the rank of lieutenant in the navy. He had grown up in the merchant ser- vice, and at the mature age of nineteen commanded a ship and made a voyage to London. When called to serve his coun- try he was twenty-five years of age, and a distinguished ship-master in New York. With the opening of the new century the Constitution first came under his control, and ever remained his favorite. In the memorable year of 1812 he was again in command of this ship of his heart, which under his direction was destined to win from the people of this land a love akin to adoration, and the strong name of Old Ironsides. The war of the Revolution secured a free foothold to the successors of the first sturdy colonists. The fire of liberty no longer needed the protection of an armed host, but burned brightly on thousands of hearth-stones, sending through the wide- mouthed chimneys the smoke of its in- cense, ever floating upward in thanks- giving. But it was necessary that the blaze of battle fire should be reflected on the Atlantics breast ere the Unions right on the high seas was recognized. Isaac Hull not only secured for his country this freedom, but to him, as her repre- sentative, the standard of the mistress of the seas first bent itself. It was the cool presence of mind that is never taken unawares, the energy and fearlessness that admit of no result but success, and the strategic ability that gives the advan- tage over superior force and years of dis- ciplinethese, inherited from his father, and placed at the service of his country, established her claim to be a naval power. Now that the dust has settled, now that the mists that lay on the sea of dis- sension have been blown away by the pure breath of love for a common heri- tage in face and tongue, now that the hands of England and America are clasp= ed in ever - increasing friendliness, it is the valor, loyalty, and patriotism that are honored in a man whether he ranked once as friend or foe. In 1639hardly twenty years since the white - winged Mayflower had proved a bird of ill omen to the Massachusetts tribes, and the great Pequot war being ended-a small band of Connecticut col- onists chose for a new settlement the site of an old Indian village near Long Isl- and Sound, on the western bank of the Housatonic River. The Indian name of Cupheag gave place to Stratford in memory, according to the most pleasing tradition, of Stratford-on-Avon, the birth- place of some of their number. But in spite of the two claims of right and might the patent grant- ed by King James, and the conquest of territory in the Indian warsit was found desirable, after a time, to have still another basis for their claim as land- owners. After much parley, the Indians, charmed by the gleam and shine of sun- dry brass kettles, weapons of warfare, and the wonderful white mans thun- der, did ingadgeto waive all right to a certain extent of meadow, forest, and hill-ranges in exchange for these alluring commodities from beyond the big wa- ter. A display of penmanship follow- edquaint old English on the part of the whites, and mystic signatures, arrow- From the painting by Gilbert Stuart, 1814 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. heads ( all the worlds akin surely) and the like, on the part of the Indian which ceded to the former the district primarily included in the town of Strat- ford, stretching up the river 12 myle northward. and running seven or eight miles to the west. As the colony increased in numbers the more daring ones reached out from the main settlement near the mouth of the river, and here and there the nuclei of future towns were formed. Always on the hill-tops, not only because the better land lay there, but because the low lands were skirted by the river, which was the red mans road. He, in spite of treaties and bills of sale, was not always to be trusted. One of these early settlements, about eight miles northwest of the colonial cen- tre, was named, with a clinging love for old Yorkshires cathedral town, Ripon, or Ripton. In time, however, Ripton, growing in strength, asserted her import- ance, becoming first a borough, and even- tually a town. Traditional affection yielding before local pride in honor of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and the State Governor, in 1789 she took the name of Hunting- ton. Her centre was well up on the hills, a place of consequence in its day, sending out into the world many an illus- trious son. Lesser settlements were form- ed within her limits, and she even at- tained to the dignity and importance of having her own seaport. The Indian, facing the inevitable, disturbed by the THE CONSTITUTION BEING TOWED OUT OF BO5TON HARBOR, 1812. 33 several generations, and on the site of the old mill one of the millstones even now lies. In 1750 there was born to this family a son named Joseph, the fourth of the name, and the fifth in descent from Rich- ard Hull, who came from Derbyshire to Connecticut before 1640. In those days a mans work began before he reached legal manhood, and while yet a boy Jo- seph Hull engaged in West Indian trade, becoming as familiar with the changing face of the ocean as with the hills and valleys of his childhoods home. A ferry was early established between Derby and the opposite shore, then a part of Stratford. Among the earliest houses on that side of the river was one about half a mile from the Landing, built in 1721, and sold by Yelverton Perry to Nathan Bennett in 1736. It was a large house with a stone chimney, a sure proof of its antiquity, as bricks did not come into use in that part of the country until about the middle of the century. The house remained intact until April, 1890, when it was burned, with adjacent build- ings. The old deed of sale says: 104 acres of land in the Borough of Ripton, in consideration of fifteen hundred and thirty - two pounds in hand.... a dwell- THE BIRTHPLACE OF COMMODORE ISAAC HULL. pioneer s axe and the plash of his mill- wheel, had retreated. At the river-side, four miles over and down the hills by the kings highway, a cluster of houses came into being. Here the river, com- ing down from between the northern hills, makes a long sweep eastward, and on its southern bank, back of the little docks called The Landing, and the wide road bordered with elm-trees, stands the line of houses, with quaint roofs, hipped and gabled, friendly in their nearness. Beyond them to the eastward rises a rocky wooded hill-side called the Point of Rocks, and there the river, after receiving in its wide arms the lesser Nau- gatuck, makes a sharp turn southward on its winding way to the open Sound. Across the river from the Point of Rocks is Derby Landing, or, as it was more generally termed, The Narrows. Derby was settled soon after Stratford, and in time it too had found the river-side safe, and being at the head of tide-water, its commerce was early established. It be- came the base for supplies for the back country, a port whose vessels sailed to all parts of the world, and whose foreign trade was for some years greater than that of New Haven. It was a place for ship-owners and ship-builders, receivfng the name of the Ship- building Town. Natu- rally it was a place for captains, their homes and families, and of stores where not only domestic goods were to be found, but the merchandise of both the East and West Indies, and the manufac- tures of England and the European nations, while the docks were piled with this countrys products for export. One of the wealthiest and most influential f am- ilies in Derby from its settlement was the Hull family. They lived at Uptown, and built mills where plaster, grain, and flaxseed were ground and lumber sawn for export as well as for domestic use. This indus- try remained under the control of the family for THE MONUMENT TO JO5EPH HULL, LONG HILL CEMETERY, HUNTINGTON, ERECTED BY H15 SON ISAAC. 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing - house and barn standing on said land. .. . one-eighth part of [interest in] a saw-mill standing on said land, and one-half of a ferry-boat, with the privilege of the ferry for himself and heirs. This property, with more land bought from others, was inherited from Nathan Bennett by his son Daniel, a deacon in the Congregational church at Ripton. When Lafayette, coming from Long Isl- and to join Washington on the Hudson, passed through this part of the State, he and his officers had breakfast at this house. It was on a Sunday morning, and Deacon Bennett, with two little chil- dren in the wagon, was just starting for Ripton, when a man in uniform appeared, and asked if he could give Lafayette and his officers breakfast, and also furnish assistance in transporting the troops and cannon across the river. The deacon consented at once, sent the children into the house, ordered a sheep killed and cooked, and then went to the neighbor- ing fai~mers for men and teams to render the necessary assistance. The army had been encamped in the upper part of Der- by, and the river must be crossed by ferry and fording. The meal having been served and eaten, and the crossing successfully accomplish- ed, the bill was called for. Deacon Ben- nett asked if the entertainment had been satisfactory. Perfectly, was the reply. Then there is no charge; you are en- tirely welcome. In this house in 1752 a daughter was born, to whom was given the time-hon- ored name of Sally. There is an old story of which the world never tires. How it happened is of unflagging interest; but in this in- stance, as in many others where tradition has not reached down to the present, only imagination can be sent back to that happy past when Joseph Hull and Sally Bennett found the world all rose-color. Perhaps their friendship began in child- hood. Perhaps it was a case of that oc- casional propinquity which carries its concealed magic. A story is told of an old lady who expressed no surprise when an intended marriage was announced that had caused the rest of her little world to open wide its eyes. She merely said: Why, of course. I expected it. He had the next scat to her in the kirk! Per- haps, as Ripton meeting-house was far off over the hills, it was sometimes easier to cross by ferry to Derby and walk demure- ly up the valley to the little church there However, it happened, as it has ever since HOU5E WHERE ISAAC HULL WAS BORN. T THE BIRTHPLACE OF COMMODORE ISAAC HULL. 35 there was a garden eastward in Eden; and will, until the last sheaf of humanity has been garnered. So in 1769 there was a wedding in the old Bennett houseweddings were usual- ly in the homesteads in those daysand after living a few years on the Derby side of the river, the young couple set up their lares and penates in a house built by Jo- seph Hull at the Landing, on land given by Deacon Bennett to Sally as part of her dower. This added the last one to the line of houses that have stood in peaceful neighborliness for more than a century, and here Isaac Hull was born on the 6th of March, 1773. The falling of tea-chests in Boston Har- bor caused a ripple that was felt to the farthest shores of the thirteen colonies, and on July 4, 1776, the vibrant rim of Liberty Bell set in motion those waves of sound that called every man whose heart yearned for freedom to fall into line. Joseph Hull was among the first to re- spond, and entered the army as lieuten- ant of artillery. He was soon taken pris- oner, and for two years endured much suffering. Then obtaining release, he was again at his countrys service, and re- mained through the entire war. His re- markable coolness under danger, his fear- lessness and great strategic ability, are verified by many traditions. At one time, riding from Derby to New Haven, as he reached the brow of a hill, he saw a num- ber of British soldiers coming toward him. He was alone and unarmed; he stopped his horse an instant, turned and beckoned as if signalling a force to fol- low him, then riding forward, demanded the swords of the soldiers, which, as they expected the immediate arrival of his re- enforcement, were at once surrendered. Those were days for stout-hearted wo- men as well as men, and Sally Hull was a brave example when her husband start- ed on the long niarch for liberty, leaving her and three little boys, Isaac, the sec- ond son, being in his fourth year. She must have borne a patient heart duiing the weary years of his imprisonment, and the courage of the day was necessary on being left again and again to await the unknown result while he bore his part in the great struggle. Nor were the women and children in the quiet homes always in safety. The sight of the enemys red coat and the tramp of his footstep were to be watched and listened for. New VOL. LXXXV.1~o. 5054 Haven was plundered and Fairfield burn- ed, and whose turn might come next none could tell. Undoubtedly a boys instincts are al- ways a boys instincts, but the age in which he lives bends them one way or another. Isaac Hull was ten years old when peace was declared, and the long record of his fathers endurance, heroism, fearlessly meeting and successfully out- witting the enemy, must have done much to mould the boy for the future. Inher- itance, strengthened by a noble example, called to the front the high qualities that told for his countrys gain so markedly. It is easy to imagine the boy by the peace- ful river-side living over his fathers brave deeds and longing to emulate them. But his could not have been a dreamy life. He had an early training in the danger- ous whaling expeditions on Long Island Sound in open boats, where courage and boldness of action, following a quick per- ception, were early instilled. That the child is father or the man is again abun- dantly proved. The old houses speak only of peace now. It is not easy to realize their troublous times. Their outlook has changed with the changes of more than a century, but they silently testify to the brave spirits, the strong-hearted men and women, and children too, to whom the blue sky and shining river and the out- lines of the green hills looked as they do now, though mechanical progress and the modern gods of steam and electricity have transformed all else. Wars and rumors of wars have echoed round them, as 1812, 1848, 186165, have left their marks on other parts of the great country; but their peril was when the nation was born, and they have witnessed since only an ever-increasing freedom as the art of war has given place to the arts of peace. That the course of empire is west- ward is well proved. Equally true it is that, despite its course, the site of empire remains. Who can count the Je- rusalems from Melchizedek till to - day? How many Troys did Schliemann find ere he reached that of Priam? Though the United States is but learning to count its centuries, while the older nations sum up their millenniums, still it is verified. Cupheag was followed by Stratford. The Paugassett settlement at Derby, and the kindred Pootatuck one, where old Rip- tons youngest child, the borough of 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Shelton, now lies, and the old Indian fields and forts on the point between the two, where busy Birmingham long since established her reputation for industry, lift their voices in evidence. It is not possible to measure the distance between a cluster of wigwams on the quiet hill- side and the long lines of brick factories with their din and roar; but when the turning of the soil puts a stone pestle or arrow-head into the white hand of to-day, it feels the touch of the red brothers. We measure time by heart-throbs, not by figures on the dial. lin many things the aim of the present is to reproduce the past. But the line and plummet of the most faithful of archi tects can no more make the new house like the old model than the theatrical make-up can transform the young man into an old one. The result may be ad- mired as a work of art, but it is not na- ture. The touch of time gives a sag to the tent pole, a suggestion of waviness in outline, and a rounding of angles that the tool of man tries in vain to reproduce. And the old house has a human interest that cannot be obtained by opening a wide door and letting out a troop of chil- dren to play on the porch. It is like a man full of years and honors, whose mental vision sees the empty places filled with those loved long since and lost awhile. THE WORLD OF CIIANCE.* BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. XVII. IN the front room the little assemblage had the effect of some small religious sect. The people were plainly dressed in a sort of keeping with their serious faces; there was one girl who had no sign of a ribbon or lace about her, and looked like a rather athletic boy in her short hair and black felt hat, and her jacket buttoned to her throat. She sat with her hands in the side pockets of her coat, and her feet pushed out beyond the hem of her skirt: There were several men of a foreign type, with beards pointed and parted; an Amer- ican, who looked like a school-master, and whose mouth worked up into his cheek at one side with a sort of mechanical smile when he talked, sat near a man who was so bald as not to have even a spear of hair anywhere on his head. The rest were people who took a color of oddity from these types; a second glance showed them to be of the average humanity; and their dress and its fashion showed them to be of simple condition. They were at- tired with a Sunday consciousness and cleanliness, though one gentleman whose coat sleeves and seams were brilliant with long use looked as if he would be the better for a little benzining, where his mustache had dropped soup and coffee on his waistcoat; he had prominent eyes, with a straining, near-sighted look. Kane sat among them with an air at once alert and aloof; his arms were fold- ed, and he glanced around from one to another with grave interest. They were all listening, when Ray came in, to a young man who was upholding the sin- gle-tax theory, with confidence and with eagerness, as something which in its op- eration would release the individual ener- gies to free play and to real competition. Hughes broke in upon him. That is precisely what I object to in your theory. I dont want that devil re- leased. Competition is the Afreet that the forces of civilization have bottled up after a desperate struggle, and he is al- ways making fine promises of what he will do for you if you will let him out. The fact is he will do nothing but mis- chief, because that is his nature. He is Beelzebub, he is Satan; in the Miltonic fable he attempted to compete with the Almighty for the rule of heaven; and the fallen angels have been taking the conse- quence ever since. Monopoly is the only prosperity. Where competition is there can be finally nothing but disaster and defeat for one side or another. That is self-evident. Nothing succeeds till it be- gins to be a monopoly. This holds good from the lowest to the highest endeavor from the commercial to the a~s4ihe4e~ from the huckster to the artist. As long, for instance, as an author is young and poor Ray felt, looking down, that the speakers eye turned on him he must compete, and his work must be deformed by the struggle; when it becomes known that he alone can do his kind of work, he * Begun in March number, 1892.

William Dean Howells Howells, William Dean The World Of Chance 36-46

36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Shelton, now lies, and the old Indian fields and forts on the point between the two, where busy Birmingham long since established her reputation for industry, lift their voices in evidence. It is not possible to measure the distance between a cluster of wigwams on the quiet hill- side and the long lines of brick factories with their din and roar; but when the turning of the soil puts a stone pestle or arrow-head into the white hand of to-day, it feels the touch of the red brothers. We measure time by heart-throbs, not by figures on the dial. lin many things the aim of the present is to reproduce the past. But the line and plummet of the most faithful of archi tects can no more make the new house like the old model than the theatrical make-up can transform the young man into an old one. The result may be ad- mired as a work of art, but it is not na- ture. The touch of time gives a sag to the tent pole, a suggestion of waviness in outline, and a rounding of angles that the tool of man tries in vain to reproduce. And the old house has a human interest that cannot be obtained by opening a wide door and letting out a troop of chil- dren to play on the porch. It is like a man full of years and honors, whose mental vision sees the empty places filled with those loved long since and lost awhile. THE WORLD OF CIIANCE.* BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. XVII. IN the front room the little assemblage had the effect of some small religious sect. The people were plainly dressed in a sort of keeping with their serious faces; there was one girl who had no sign of a ribbon or lace about her, and looked like a rather athletic boy in her short hair and black felt hat, and her jacket buttoned to her throat. She sat with her hands in the side pockets of her coat, and her feet pushed out beyond the hem of her skirt: There were several men of a foreign type, with beards pointed and parted; an Amer- ican, who looked like a school-master, and whose mouth worked up into his cheek at one side with a sort of mechanical smile when he talked, sat near a man who was so bald as not to have even a spear of hair anywhere on his head. The rest were people who took a color of oddity from these types; a second glance showed them to be of the average humanity; and their dress and its fashion showed them to be of simple condition. They were at- tired with a Sunday consciousness and cleanliness, though one gentleman whose coat sleeves and seams were brilliant with long use looked as if he would be the better for a little benzining, where his mustache had dropped soup and coffee on his waistcoat; he had prominent eyes, with a straining, near-sighted look. Kane sat among them with an air at once alert and aloof; his arms were fold- ed, and he glanced around from one to another with grave interest. They were all listening, when Ray came in, to a young man who was upholding the sin- gle-tax theory, with confidence and with eagerness, as something which in its op- eration would release the individual ener- gies to free play and to real competition. Hughes broke in upon him. That is precisely what I object to in your theory. I dont want that devil re- leased. Competition is the Afreet that the forces of civilization have bottled up after a desperate struggle, and he is al- ways making fine promises of what he will do for you if you will let him out. The fact is he will do nothing but mis- chief, because that is his nature. He is Beelzebub, he is Satan; in the Miltonic fable he attempted to compete with the Almighty for the rule of heaven; and the fallen angels have been taking the conse- quence ever since. Monopoly is the only prosperity. Where competition is there can be finally nothing but disaster and defeat for one side or another. That is self-evident. Nothing succeeds till it be- gins to be a monopoly. This holds good from the lowest to the highest endeavor from the commercial to the a~s4ihe4e~ from the huckster to the artist. As long, for instance, as an author is young and poor Ray felt, looking down, that the speakers eye turned on him he must compete, and his work must be deformed by the struggle; when it becomes known that he alone can do his kind of work, he * Begun in March number, 1892. THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 37 monopolizes and prospers in the full mea- sure of his powers; and he realizes his ideal unrestrictedly. Competition en- slaves, monopoly liberates. We must, therefore, have the greatest possible mo- nopoly, one that includes the whole peo- ple economically as they are now in- cluded politically. Try to think of com- petition in the political administration as we now have it in the industrial. It isnt thinkable! Or, yes! They do have it in those Eastern countries where the taxes are farmed to the highest bidder, and the tax-payers life is ground out of him. I think said the school-masterly- looking man, we all feel this instinct- ively. The trusts and the syndicates are doing our work for us as rapidly as we could ask. A voice, with a German heaviness of accent, came from one of the foreigners. But they are not doing it for our sake, and they mean to stop distinctly short of the whole-people trust. As far back as Louis Napoleon~ s rise we were expecting the growth of the corporate industries to accomplish our purposes for us. But be- tween the corporation and the collectivity there is a gulf, a chasm that has never yet been passed. We must bridge it ! cried Hughes. A young man, with a clean-cut English intonation, asked, Why not fill it up with capitalists l No, said Hughes; our cause should recognize no class as enemies. I dont think it matters much to them whether we recognize them or not, if we let them have their own wy, said the young man, whose cockney origin be- trayed itself in an occasional vowel and aspirate. We shall not let them have their own way unless it is the way of the ma- jority too, Hughes returned. From my point of view they are simply and purely a part of the movement, as entire- ly so as the proletariat. The difficulty will be to get them to take your point of view, the young man suggested. It isnt necessary they should, Hughes answered, though some of them do already. Several of the best friends of our cause are capitalists; and there are large numbers of moneyed people who believe in the nationalization of the tele- graphs, railroads, and expresses.~ Those are merely the first steps, urged the young man, which may lead now~ ere. They are the first steps, said Hughes, and they are not to be taken over the bodies of men. We must advance to- gether as brothers, marching abreast, to the music of our own heart-beats. Good! said Kane. Ray did not know whether he said it ironically or not. It made the short-haired girl turn round and look at him where he sat behind her. We in Russia, said another of the foreign - looking people, have seen the futility of violence. The only force that finally prevails is love; and we must em- ploy it with those that can feel it best, with the little children. The adult world is hopeless; but with the next generation we may do somethingeverything. The highest office is the teachers, but we must become as little children if we would teach them, who are of the kingdom of heaven. We must begin by learning of them. It appears rather complicated, said the young Englishman, gayly, and Ray heard Kane choke off a laugh into a kind of snort. Christ said He came to call sinners to repentance, said the man who would have been the better for benzining. He evidently thought there was some hope of grown-up people if they would cease to do evil. And several of the disciples were eld- erly men, the short-haired girl put in. Our Russian friends idea seems to be a version of our Indian policy, said Kane. Good adults, dead adults. No, no. You dont understand, all of you the Russian began, but Hughes interrupted him. How would you deal with the chil- drenl In communities, here, at the heart of the trouble, and also in the West, where they could be easily made self-support- ing. I dont believe in communities, said Hughes. If anything in the world has thoroughly failed it is communities. They have failed all the more lamentably when~ they have succeeded financially, because that sort of success comes from competi- tion with the world outside. A commu- nity is an aggrandized individual; it is the extension of the egoistic motive to a large family, which looks out for its. own good against other families, just as a small 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. family does. I have had enough of com- munities. The family we hope to found must include all men who are willing to work; it must recognize no aliens except the drones, and the drones must not be suffered to continue. They must either cease to exist by going to work, or by starving to death. But this great fam- ilythe real human familymust be no agglutinated structure, no mere federa- tion of trades-unions; it must be a nat- ural growth from indigenous stocks, which will gradually displace individual and corporate enterprises by pushing its roots and its branches out under and over them till they have no longer earth or air to live in. It will then slowly pos- sess itself of the whole fielA of production and distribution. Very slowly, said the young Eng- lishman; and he laughed. The debate went on, and it seemed as if there were almost as many opinions as there were people present. At times it interested Ray; at times it bored him; but at all times he kept thinking that if he could get those queer zealots into a book they would be amusing material, though he shuddered to find himself per- sonally among them. Hughes coughed painfully in the air thickened with many breaths, and the windows had to be opened for him; then the rush of the elevated trains filled the room, and the windows were shut again. After one of these interludes, Ray was aware of Hughes appealing to some one in the same tone in which he had asked him to go and send in his whiskey and milk; he looked up, and saw that Hughes was appealing to him. Young man, have you nothing to say on all these questions? Is it possible that you have not thought of them ? Ray was so startled that for a moment he could not speak. Then he said, hard- ily, but in the frank spirit of the discus- sion, No, I have never thought of them at all. It is time you did, said Hughes. All other interests must yield to them. We can have no true art, no real litera- ture, no science worthy the name, till the money stamp of egoism is effaced from success, and it is honored, not paid. The others turned and stared at Ray; old Kane arched his eyebrows at him, and made rings of white round his eyes; he pursed his mouth as if he would like to laugh. Ray saw Mrs. Denton put her hand on her mouth; her husband glow- ered silently; her sister sat with down. cast eyes. Hughes went on: I find it easier to forgive enmity than indifference; he who is not for us is against us in the worst sense. Our cause has a sacred claim upon all generous and enlightened spirits; they are recreant if they neglect it. But we must be patient, even with indifference; it is hard to bear, but we cannot fight it, and we must bear it. Nothing has as- tonished me more, since my return to the world, than to find the great mass of men living on as when I left it, in besotted indifference to the vital interests of the hour. I find the politicians still talking of the tariff, just as they used to talk: low tariff and cheap clothes for the work- ing-man; high tariff and large wages for the working-man. Whether we have high tariff or low, the working-man al- ways wins. But lie does not seem to prosper. He is poor; he is badly fed and housed; when he is out of work, he starves in his den till he is evicted with a ruthlessness unknown in the history of Irish oppression. Neither party means to do anything for the working-man, and he hasnt risen himself yet to the conception of anything more philosophi- cal than more pay and fewer hours. A sad-faced man spoke from a corner of the room. We must have time to think, and something to eat to-day. We cant wait till to-morrow. That is true, Hughes answered. Many must perish by the way. But we must have patience. His son-in-law spoke up, and his gloomy face darkened. I have no heart for patience. When I see people perishing by the way, I ask myself how they shall be saved, not some other time, but now. Some one is guilty of the wrong they suffer. How shall the sin be remitted? His voice shook with fanatical passion. We must have patience, Hughes re- peated. We are all guilty. It would be a good thing, said the man with the German accent, if the low-tariff men would really cut off the duties. The high-tariff men dont put wages up because they have protection, but they would surely put them down if they didnt have it. Then you would see labor troubles everywhere. Yes, said Hughes; but such hopes THE WORLD OF CHANGE. 39 as that would make me hate the cause, if anything could. Evil that good may come? Never! Always good, and good for evil, that the good may come more and more! We must have the true America in the true American way, by reasons, by votes, by laws, and not other- wise. The spirit which he rebuked had un- locked the passions of those around him. Ray had a vision of them in the stormy dispute which followed, as waves beating and dashing upon the old man; the head of the perfectly bald man was like a buoy among the breakers, as it turned and bobbed about, in his eagerness to follow all that was said. Suddenly the impulses spent them- selves and a calm succeeded. One of the men looked at his watch; they all rose one after another to go. Hughes held them a little longer. I dont believe the good time is so far off as we are apt to think in our indignation at wrong. It is coming soon, and its mere approach will bring sensible relief. We must have courage and patience. Ray and Kane went away together. Mrs. Denton looked at him with demure question in her eyes when they parted; Peace imparted no feeling in her still glance. Hughes took Rays little hand in his large, loose grasp, and said, Come again, young man; come again ! XVIII. If ever I come again, Ray vowed to himself, when he got into the street, I think I shall know it ! He abhorred all sorts of social outlandishness; he had al- ways wished to be conformed, without and within, to the great world of smooth respectabilities. If for the present he was willing to Bohemianize a little, it was in his quality of author, and as part of a world-old tradition. To have been mixed up with a lot of howling dervishes like those people was intolerable. He tingled with a sense of personal injury from Hughess asking him to take part in their discussion; and he was all the angrier because he could not resent it, even to Kane, on account of that young girl, who could not let him see that it distressed her, too; he felt bound to her by the tie of favor done which he must not allow to become painful. He knew, as they walked rapidly down the avenue, crazy with the trains hurtling by over the jingling horse-cars and the clattering holiday crowds, that old Kane was seeking out his with eyes brimming with laughter, hut he would not look at him, and he would not see any fun in the affair. He would not speak, and he held his tongue the more resolutely because he believed Kane meant to make him speak first. He had his way; it was Kane who broke the silence, after they left the avenue, and struck into one of the cross-streets leading to the Park. Piles of lumber and barrels of cement blocked two-thirds of its space, in front of half-built houses, which yawn- ed upon it from cavernous depths. Boys were playing over the boards and barrels, and on the rocky hill-side behind the houses, where a portable engine stood at Sunday rest, and tall derricks rose and stretched their idle arms abroad. At the top of the hill a row of brown-stone fronts looked serenely down upon the havoc of stone thrown up by the blasting, as if it were a quiet pleasance. Amiable prospect, isnt it? said Kane. It looks as if Hughess Afreet has got out of his bottle, and had a good time here, holding on for a rise, and then building on spec. But perhaps we oughtnt to judge of it at this stage, when everything is in transition. Think how beautiful it will be when it is all solidly built up here as it is down-town ! He passed his hand through Rays lax arm, and leaned affectionately toward him as they walked on, after a lit- tle pause he made for this remark on the scenery. Well, my dear young friend, what do you think of my dear old friend? Of Mr. Hughes? Ray asked, and he restrained himself in a pretended question. Of Mr. Hughes, and of Mr. Hughess friends. Ray flashed out upon this. I think his friends are a lot of cranks. Yes; very good; very excellent good! They are cranks. Are they the first you have met in New York ? No; the place seems to be full of them.. Beginning with the elderly gentleman whom you met the first morning? Beginning with the young man who met the elderly gentleman. Kane smiled with appreciation. ~Well, we wont be harsh on those two. We wont call them cranks. They are phil- osophical observers, or inspired dream- ers, if you like. As I understand it we 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. are all dreamers. If we like a mans dream, we call him a prophet; if we dont like his dream, we call him a crank. Now, what is the matter with the dreams, severally and collectively, of my dear old friend and his friends? Can you deny that any one of their remedies, if taken faithfully according to the directions blown on the bottle, would cure the world of all its woes inside of six months? The question gave Ray a chance to vent his vexation impersonally. What is the matter with the world ? he burst out. I dont see that the world is so very sick. Why isnt it going on very well? I dont understand what this talk is all about. I dont see what those people have got to complain of. All any one can ask is a fair chance to show how much his work is worth, and let the best man win. Whats the trouble? Wheres the wrong? Ah, said Kane, what a pity you didnt set forth those ideas when Hughes called upon you ! And have all that crew jump on me? Thank you ! said Ray. You would call them a crew, then? Perhaps they were a crew, said Kane. I dont know why a reformer should be so grotesque; but he is, and he is always the easy prey of caricature. I couldnt help feeling to-day how very like the bur- lesque reformers the real reformers are. And they are always the same, from gen- eration to generation. For all outward difference, those men and brethren of both sexes at poor Davids were very like a group of old-time abolitionists conscien- tiously qualifying themselves for tar and feathers. Perhaps you dont like being spoken to in meeting? No, I dont, said Ray, bluntly. I fancied a certain reluctance in you at the time, but I dont think poor David meant any harm. He preaches patience, but I think he secretly feels that hes got to hurry, if hes going to have the king- dom of heaven on earth; and he wants every one to lend a hand. For the reason, or from the instinct, that forbade Ray to let out his wrath di- rectly against Hughes, he now concealed his pity. He asked stiffly: Couldnt he be got into some better place? Where he wouldnt be stunned when he tried to keep from suffocating? No, I dont know that he could, said Kane, with a pensive singleness rare in him. Any help of that kind would mean dependence, and David Hughes is proud. They had passed through lofty ranks of flats, and they now came to the via- duct carrying the northern railways; one of its noble arches opened before them like a city gate, and the viaduct in its massy extent was like a wall that had stood a hundred sieges. Beyond they found open fields, with the old farm fences of stone still enclosing them, but with the cellars of city blocks dug out of the lots. In one place there was a spread of low sheds, neighbored by towering apartment-houses; some old cart-horses were cropping the belated grass; and comfortable companies of hens and groups of turkeys were picking about the stable- yard; a shambling cottage fronted on the avenue next the park, and drooped be- hind its dusty, leafless vines. He might be got into that, said Kane, whimsically, at no increase of rent, and at much increase of comfort and quietat least till the Afreet began to get in his work. Wouldnt it be rather too much like that eremitism which hes so down on asked Ray, with a persistence in his effect of indifference. Perhaps it would, perhaps it would, Kane consented, as they struck across into the Park. The grass was still very green, though here and there a little sal- low; the leaves, which had dropped from the trees in the October rains, had lost their fire, and lay dull and brown in the little hollows and at the edges of the paths and the bases of the rocks; the oaks kept theirs, but in death; on some of the ash-trees and lindens the leaves hung in a pale reminiscence of their sum- mer green. I understood the son-in-law to want a hermitage somewherea co-operative hermitage, I suppose, Ray went on. He did not feel bound to spare the son-in-law, and he put contempt into his tone. Ali, yes, said Kane. What did you make of the son-in-law? I dont know. Hes a gloomy sprite. What is he, anyway? His wife spoke of his work. Why, its rather a romantic story, I believe, said Kane. He was a young fellow who stopped at the community on his way to a place where he was going to find work; hes a wood-engraver. I be- lieve hes always had the notion that the THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 41 world was out of kilter, and it seems that he wasnt very well himself when he look- ed in on the Family to see what they were doing to help it. He fell sick on their hands, and the Hugheses took care of him. Naturally he married one of them when he got well enough, and naturally he married the wrong one. Why the wrong one? demanded Ray, with an obscure discomfort. Well, I dont know! But if it isnt evident to you that Mrs. Denton is hardly fitted to be the guide, philosopher, and friend of such a man Ray would not pursue this branch of the inquiry. His notion of what the world wanted was to have its cities eliminated. Then he thought it would be all serene. Ah, that wouldnt do, said Kane. Cities are a vice, but they are essential to us now. We could not live without them; perhaps we are to be saved by them. But it is well to return to Nature from time to time. I thought I heard you saying some rather disparaging things of Nature a lit- tle while ago, said Ray, with a remaining grudge against Kane, and with a young mans willingness to convict his elder of any inconsistency, serious or unserious. Oh, primeval Nature, yes. But I have nothing but praise for this kind the kind that man controls and guides. It is outlaw Nature that I object to, the savage survival from chaos, the mo- ther of earthquakes and cyclones, bliz- zards and untimely frosts, inundations and indigestions. But ordered Nature the Nature of the rolling year; night and day, and seed-time and harvest The seasons, Ray broke in, scorn- fully, from the resentment still souring in his soul, turn themselves upside down and wrong end to, about as often as financial panics occur, and the farmer that has to rely on them is as apt to get left as the husbandman that sows and reaps in Wall Street. Ah ! sighed Kane. That was well said. I wish I had thought of it for my second series of Hard Sayings. Oh, youre welcome to it ! Are you so rich in paradoxes? But I will contrive to credit it somehow to the gifted author of A New Romeo. Is that what you call it ? Ray blushed and laughed, and Kane continued. Its a little beyond the fact, but its on the lines of truth. I dont justify Nature altogether. She is not free from certain lit- tle foibles, caprices; perhaps thats why we call her she. But I dont think that, with all her faults, shes quite sobad as Business. In that we seem to have gone to Nature for her defects. Why copy her weakness and bad faith? Why not study her steadfastness, her orderliness, her obedi- ence in laying the bases of civilization? We dont go to her for the justification of murder, incest, robbery, gluttony, though you can find them all in her. We have our little prejudice against these things, and we seem to derive it from somewhere outside of what we call Nature. Why not go to that Somewhere for the law of economic life? But come, Kane broke off, gayly, let us babble of green fields; as for God, God, I hope we have no need to think of such things yet. Please Heaven, our noses are not as sharp as pens, by a long way. I dont wonder you find it a beautiful and beneficent world, in spite of our friends yonder, who want to make it prettier and better, in their way. Kane put his arm across Rays shoulder, and pulled him affection- ately towards him. Are you vexed with me for having introduced you to those people? I have been imagining something of the kind. Oh, no-- Ray began. I didnt really mean to stay for Hughess conventicle, said Kane. Chap- ley was wise, and went in time, before he could feel the wild charm of those vision- aries; it was too much for me; when they began to come, I couldnt go. I forgot how repugnant the golden age has al- ways been to the heart of youth, which likes the nineteenth century much better. The fact is, I forgot that I had brought you till it was too late to take you away. He laughed, and Ray, more reluctant- ly, laughed with him. I have often wondered, he went on, how it is we lose the youthful point of view. We have it some night, and the next morning we havent it; and we can hardly remember what it was. I dont suppose you could tell me what the youth- ful point of view of the present day is, though I should recognize that of forty years ago. I- He broke off to look at a party of horse- men pelting by on the stretch of the smooth hard road, and dashing into a bridle - path beyond. They were heavy 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. young fellows, mounted on perfectly groomed trotters, whose round haunches trembled and dimpled with their hard pace. Perhaps that is the youthful point of view now: the healthy, the wealthy, the physically strong, the materially rich. Well, I think ours was better; pallid and poor in person and in purse as we ima- gined the condition of the ideal man to be. There is something, said Kane, a little more expressive of the insolence of money in one of those brutes than in the most glittering carriage and pair. I think if I had in me the material for really hat- ing a fellow-man, I should apply it to the detestation of the rider of one of those an- imals. But I havent. I am not in pro- spective need even, and I am at the mo- ment no hungrier than a gentleman ought to be who is going to lunch with a lady in the Mandan Flats. By-the-way! Why shouldnt you come with me? They would be delighted to see you. A brill- iant young widow, with a pretty step- daughter, is not to be lunched with ev- ery day, and I can answer for your wel- come. Ray freed himself. Im sorry I cant go. But I cant. You must excuse me; I really couldnt; I am very much obliged to you. But- You dont trust me ! Oh, yes, I do. But I dont feel quite up to meeting people just now. Ill push on down town. Im rather tired. Good- by. Kane held his hand between both his palms. I wonder what the real reason is! Is it grudge, or pride, or youth ? Neither, said Ray. Itsclothes. My boots are muddy, and Ive got on my second best trousers. Ah. now you are frank with me, and you give me a real reason. Perhaps you are right. I dare say I should have thought so once. XIX. Ray did not go to deliver any of his letters that afternoon; he decided now that it would be out of taste to do so on Sunday, as he had already doubted that it would be, in the morning. He passed the afternoon in his room, trying from time to time to reduce the turmoil of his reveries to intelligible terms in verse, and in poetic prose. He did nothing with them; in the end, though, he was aware of a new ideal, and he resolved that if he could get his story back from Chapley & Co., he would rewrite the passages that characterized the heroine, and make it less like the every-day, simple prettiness of his first love. He had always known that this did not suit the character he had imagined; he now saw that it required a more complex and mystical charm. But he did not allow himself to formulate these volitions and perceptions, any more than his conviction that he had now a double reason for keeping away from Mr. Brandreth and from Miss Hughes. He spent the week in a sort of ecstasy of for- bearance. On Saturday afternoon he feigned the necessity of going to ask Mr. Brandreth how he thought a novel in verse, treating a strictly American sub- ject in a fantastic way, would succeed. He really wished to learn something without seeming to wish it about his manuscript, but he called so late in the afternoon that he found Mr. Brandreth putting his desk in order just before start- ing home. He professed a great pleasure at sight of Ray, and said he wished he would come part of the way home with him: he wanted to have a little talk. As if the word home had roused the latent forces of hospitality in him, he added, I want to have you up at my place, some day, as soon as we can get turned round. Mrs. Brandreth is doing first-rate, now; and that boywell, sir, hes a perfect Titan. I wish you could see him undressed. Hes just like the figure of the infant Hercules strangling the serpent when he grips the nurses finger. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I believe that fellow recognizes me, and distinguishes between me and his niother. I suppose its my hatI come in with my hat on, you know, just to try him; and when he catches sight of that hat, you ought to see his arms go ! The paternal rhapsodies continued a long time after they were in the street, and Ray got no chance to bring in either his real or pretended business. He lis- tened with mechanical smiles and hollow laughter, alert at the same time for the slightest vantage which Mr. Brand reth should give him. But the publisher said of his own motion, Oh, by-the-way, youll be interested to know that our readers reports on your story are in. Are they? Ray gasped. He could not get out any more. THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 43 Mr. Brandreth went on: I didnt ex- amine the reports very attentively myself, but I think they were favorable, on the whole. There were several changes sug- gested; I dont recall just what. But you can see them all on Monday. We let Miss Hughes go after lunch on Satur- days, and she generally takes some work home with her, and I gave them to her to put in shape for you. I thought it would be rather instructive for you to see the different opinions in the right form. I believe you cant have too much method in these things. Of course, said Ray, in an anguish of hope and fear. The street seemed to go round; lie hardly knew where he was. He bungled on inarticulately before he could say: I believe in method, too. But Im sorry I could& t have had the reports to-day, because I might have had Sunday to think the suggestions over, and see what I could do with them. Well, Im sorry, too. She hadnt been gone half an hour when you came in. If Id thought of your happening in! Well, it isnt very long till Mon- day! Shell have them ready by that time. I make it a rule myself to put all business out of my mind from 2 P.M. on Saturday till Monday 9 A. M., and I think youll find it an advantage, too. I wont do business, and I wont talk business, and I wont think business af- ter 2 oclock on Saturday. I believe in making Sunday a day of rest and family enjoyment. We have an early dinner; and then I like to have my wife read or play to me, and now we have in the baby and that amuses us. Ray forced himself to say that as a rule he did not believe in working on Sunday either; he usually wrote letters. He abruptly asked Mr. Brandreth how he thought it would do for him to go and ask Miss Hughes for a sight of the read- ers reports in the rough. Mr. Brandreth laughed. You are anxious! Do you know where she lives? Oh, yes; I stopped there last Sunday with Mr. Kune on our way to the Park. - - I saw Mr. Chapley there. Oh ! said Mr. Brandreth, with the effect of being arrested by the last fact in something he might otherwise have said. It seemed to make him rather unhappy. Then you saw Miss Hughess father? Yes; and all his friends, Ray an- swered, in a way that evidently encour- aged Mr. Brandreth to go on. Yes? What did you think of them? I thought they were mostly harm- less; but one or two of them ought to have been in the violent wards. Did Mr. Chapley meet them? Oh, no; he went away before any of them came in. As Mr. Kane took me, I had to stay with him. Mr. Brandreth got back a good deal of his smiling complacency, which had left him at Rays mention of Mr. Chapley in connection with Hughes. Mr. Chapley and Mr. Hughes are old friends. Yes; I understood something of that kind. They date back to the Brook Farm days together. Mr. Hughes is rather too much of the Hollingsworth type for my use, said Ray. He wished Mr. Brandreth to un- derstand that he had no sympathy with Hughess wild-cat philosophy, both be- cause he had none, and because he be-. lieved it would be to his interest with Mr. Brandreth to have none. Ive never seen him, said Mr. Bran- dreth. I like Mr. Chapleys loyalty to his friendsits one of his fine traits; but I dont see any necessity for my taking them up. He goes there every Sunday morning to see Mr. Hughes, and they talk political economy together. You know Mr. Chapley has been a good deal interested in this altruistic agitation. No, I didnt, said Ray. Yes. You cant very well keep clear of it altogether. I was mixed up in it myself at one time: our summer place is on the outskirts of a manufacturing town in Massachusetts, and we had our Ro- meo and Juliet for the benefit of a social union for the work - people; we made over two hundred dollars for them. Mr. Chapley was a George man in 86. Not that he agreed with the George men ex- actly; but he thought there ought to be some expression against the way things are going. You know a good many of the nicest kind of people went the same way at that time. I dont object to that kind of thing as long as it isnt carried too far. Mr. Chapley used to see a good deal of an odd stick of a minister at our summer place that had got a good some of the new ideas in a pretty crooked kind of shape; and then hes read Tolstoi a good VOL. LxXxV.No. 5055 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. deal, and hes been influenced by him. I think Hughes is a sort of safety-valve for Mr. Chapley, and thats what I tell the family. Mr. Chapley isnt a fool, and hes always had as good an eye for the main chance as anybody. Thats all. Ray divined that Mr. Brandreth would not have entered into this explanation of his senior partner and father-in-law, ex- cept to guard against the injurious infer- ences which he might draw from having met Mr. Chapley at Hughess, but he did not let his guess appear in his words. I dont wonder he likes Mr. Hughes, he said. Hes fine, and he seems a light of sanity and reason, among the jack-a- lanterns he gathers round him. He isnt at all Tolstoian. Hes a gentleman, born and bred, said Mr. Brandreth, and he was a rich man for the days before he began his communistic career. And Miss Hughes is a perfect lady. Shes a cultivated girl too, and she reads a great deal. Id rath- er have her opinion about a new book than half the critics I know of, because I know I could get it honest, and I know it would be intelligent. Well, if youre going up there, youll want to be getting across to the avenue, to take the elevated. He added, I dont mean to give you the impression that weve made up our minds about your book, yet. We havent. Ive only glanced over the opinions of our readers, and I merely know that theyre favorable to it in some respects from a literary point of view. But a book is a commercial venture as well as a literary venture, and weve got to have a powwow about that side of it before we come to any sort of conclusion. You under- stand ? Oh, yes, I understand that, said Ray, and Ill try not to be unreasonably hope- ful, but at the same moment his heart leaped with hope. Well, thats right, said Mr. Bran- d reth, taking his hand for parting. He. held it, and then he said, with a sort of desperate impulse, By-the-way, why not come home with me, now, and take din- ner with us xx. Rays heart sank. He was so anxious to get at those opinions; and yet he did not like to refuse Mr. Brandreth; a little thing might prejudice the case; he ought to makeall the favor at court that he could for his book. IIm afraid it mightnt be convenientat such a timefor Mrs. Brandreth Oh, yes it would, said Mr. Brandreth in the same desperate note. Come along. I dont know that Mrs. Brandieth will be able to see you, but I want you to see my boy; and we can have a bachelor bite to- gether, anyway. Ray yielded, and the stories of the baby began again when he moved on with Mr. Brandreth. It was agony for him to wrench his mind from his story, which he kept turning over and over in it, trying to imagine what the readers had differed about, and listen to Mr. Brandreth saying, Yes, sir, I believe that child knows his grandmother and his nurse apart, as well as he knows his mother and me. Hes got his likes and dislikes already: he cries whenever his grandmother takes him. By-the-way, youll see Mrs. Chap- ley at dinner, I hope. Shes spending the day with us. Oh,-Im very glad, said Ray, wonder- ing if the readers objected to his introduc- tion of hypnotism. Shes a woman of the greatest char- acter, said Mr. Brandreth, but she has some old-fashioned notions about chil- dren. I want my boy to be trained as a boy from the very start. I think theres nothing like a manly man, unless its a womanly woman. I hate anything mas- culine about a girl; a girl ought to be yielding and gentle; but I want my boy to be self-reliant from the word Go. I believe in a mans being master in his own house; his will ought to be law, and thats the way I shall bring up my boy. Mrs. Chapley thinks there ought always to be a light in the nurses room, but I dont. I want my boy to get used to the dark, and not be afraid of it, and I shall begin just as soon as I can, without seem- ing arbitrary. Mrs. Chapley is the best soul in the world, and of course I dont like to differ with her. Of course, said Ray. The mention of relationship made him think of the cousin in his story; if he had not had the cousin killed, he thought it would have been better; there was too much blood- shed in the story. They turned into a cross-street from Lexington Avenue, where they had been walking, and stopped at a pretty little apartment - house, which had its door painted black and a wide brass plate en- closing its key-hole, and wore that air of THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 45 standing aloof from its neighbors peculiar to private houses with black doors and brass plates. Mr. Brandreth let himself in with a key. There are only three families in our house, and its like having a house of our own. Its so much easier living in a fiat for your wife that I put my foot down, and wouldnt hear of a separate house. They mounted the carpeted stairs through the twilight that prevails in such entries, and a sound of flying steps was heard within the door where Mr. Brandreth applied his latch - key again, and as he flung it open a long wail burst upon the ear. Hear that? he asked, with a raptur- ous smile, as he turned to Ray for sym- pathy; and then he called gayly out in the direction that the wail came from: Oh, hello, hello, hello! Whats the matter, whats the matter? You sit down here, he said to Ray, leading the way forward into a pretty drawing - room. Confound that nurse! Shes always coming in here in spite of everything. Ill be with you in a moment. Heigh! What ails the little man ? he called out, and disappeared down the long narrow corridor, and he was gone a good while. At moments Ray caught the sound of voices in hushed, but vehement dispute; a door slammed violently; there were murmurs of expostulation. At last Mr. Brandreth reappeared with his baby in his arms, and its nurse at his heels, twitch- ing the infants long robe into place. What do you think of that? demand- ed the father, and Ray got to his feet and came near, so as to be able to see if he could think anything. By an inspiration he was able to say, Well, he is a great fellow ! and this apparently gave Mr. Brandreth perfect satisfaction. His sons downy little ob- long skull wagged feebly on his weak neck; his arms waved vaguely before his face. Now give him your finger, and see if he wont do the infant Hercules act. Ray promptly assumed the part of the serpent, but the infant Hercules would not open his tightly clinched, wandering fist. Try the other one, said his father; and Ray tried the other one with no more effect. Well, he isnt in the humor; hell do it for you some time. All right, little man ! He gave the baby, which had acquitted itself with so much distine tion, back into the arms of its nurse, and it was taken away. Sit down, sit down ! he said, cheerily. Mrs. Chapley will be in directly. Its astonishing, he said, with a twist of his head in the direction the baby had been taken, but I believe those little things have their moods just like any of us. That fellow knows as well as you do, when hes wanted to show off, and if he isnt quite in the key for it, he wont do it. I wish I had tried him with my hat, and let you see how he notices. Mr. Brandreth went on with anecdotes, theories, and moral reflections relating to the baby, and Ray answered with praise- ful murmurs and perfunctory cries of wonder. He was rescued from a situation which he found more and more difficult by the advent of Mrs. Chapley, and not of Mrs. Chapley alone, but of Mrs. Bran- dreth. She greeted Ray with a certain severity, which he instinctively divined was not so much for him as for her hus- band. A like quality imparted itself, but not so authoritatively, from her mother; if Mr. Brandreth was not master in his house, at least his mother-in-law was not. Mrs. Brandreth went about the room and made some housekeeperly rearrangements of its furniture, which had the result of reducing it, as it were, to discipline. Then she sat down, and Ray, whom she waited to have speak first, had a feeling that she was sitting in judgment on him, and the wish, if possible, to justify him- self. He began to praise the baby, its beauty, and great size, and the likeness he professed to find in it to its father. Mrs. Brandreth relented slightly. She said, with magnanimous impartiality, Its a very healthy child. Her mother made the reservation, But even healthy children are a great care, and sighed. The daughter must have found this in- trusive. Oh, I dont know that Percy is any great care as yet, mamma. He pays his way, Mr. Brandreth suggested, with a radiant smile. At least, he corrected himself, we shouldnt know what to do without him. His wife said, dryly, as if the remark were in bad taste, Its hardly a question of that, I think. Have you been long in New York, Mr. Ray? she asked, with an abrupt turn to him. Only a few weeks, Ray answered. inwardly wondering how he could render 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE, the fact propitiatory. Everything is very curious and interesting to me as a country person, he added, deciding to make this sacrifice of himself. It evidently availed somewhat. But you dont mean that you are really from the country? Mrs. Brandreth asked. Im from Midland; and I suppose thats the country, compared with New York. Mrs. Chapley asked him if he knew the Mayquays there. He tried to think of some people of that name; in the mean time she recollected that the Mayquays were from Gitcheegumee, Michigan. They talked some irrelevancies, and then she said, Mr. Brandreth tells me you have met my husband, as if they had been talking of him. Yes; I had that pleasure even before I met Mr. Brandreth, said Ray. And you know Mr. Kane? Oh, yes. He was the first acquaint- ance I made in New York. Mr. Brandreth told me. Mrs. Chap- ley made a show of laughing at the no- tion of Kane as a harmless eccentric, and she had the effect of extending her kindly derision to Hughes in saying, And youve been taken to sit at the feet of his prophet already, Mr. Brandreth tells me: that strange Mr. Hughes. I shouldnt have said he was Mr. Kanes prophet exactly, said Ray with a smile of sympathy. Mr. Kane doesnt seem to need a prophet; but Ive certain- ly seen Mr. Hughes. And heard him, for that matter. He smiled, recollecting his dismay when he heard Hughes calling upon him in meeting. He had a notion to describe his experience, and she gave him the chance. Yes ? she said, with veiled anxiety. Do tell me about him ! At the end of Rays willing compli- ance, she drew a deep breath, and said, Then he is not a follower of TolstoY? Quite the contrary, I should say. Mrs. Chapley laughed more easily. I didnt know but he made shoes that no- body could wear. I couldnt imagine what other attraction lie could have for my hus- band. I believe he would really like to go into the country and work in the fields. Mrs. Chapley laughed away a latent anxie- ty, apparently, in making this joke about her husband, and seemed to feel much better acquainted with Ray. How are they living over there? What sort of family has Mr. Hughes? I mean, besides the daughter we know of? Ray told, as well as lie could, and he said they were living in an apartment. Oh! said Mrs. Chapley, I fancied a sort of tenement. By - the - way, said Mr. Brandreth, wouldnt you like to see our apartment, Mr. Ray his wife quelled him with a glance, and he addedsoine time? Ray said he should, very much. Mrs. Brandreth, like her mother, had been growing more and more clement, and now she said, Wont you stay and take a family dinner with us, Mr. Ray? Ray looked at her husband, and saw that he had not told her of the invitation he had already given. He did not do so now, and Ray rose and seized his oppor- tunity. He thanked Mrs. Brandreth very earnestly, and said he was so sorry he had an appointment to keep, and he got himself away at once. Mrs. Chapley hospitably claimed him for her Thursdays, at parting; and Mrs. Brandreth said he must let Mr. Brandreth bring him some other day; they would always be glad to see him. Mr. Brandreth went down to the outer door with him, to make sure that he found the way, and said, Then you will come some time? and gratefully wrung his hand. I saw how anxious you were about those opinions I [TO BE cONTINUED.] HOW KENTUCKY BECAME A STATE. nv GEORGE w. RANcK. IT is not Kentuckys fault if the centen- nial of her admission into the Union comes in 1892, right alongside of the fourth centennial of the discovery of America. Congress is to blame for that. But, even a contrast with the tremendous achievement of the incomparable Cohum bus cannot divest of its absorbing interest the romantic story of the founding of our first interior commonwealth. Its very beginning was unique. The rise of a State and the establishment of the magnificent empire of the West were decreed when, on the 7th of June, 1769,

George W. Ranck Ranck, George W. How Kentucky Became A State 46-49

46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE, the fact propitiatory. Everything is very curious and interesting to me as a country person, he added, deciding to make this sacrifice of himself. It evidently availed somewhat. But you dont mean that you are really from the country? Mrs. Brandreth asked. Im from Midland; and I suppose thats the country, compared with New York. Mrs. Chapley asked him if he knew the Mayquays there. He tried to think of some people of that name; in the mean time she recollected that the Mayquays were from Gitcheegumee, Michigan. They talked some irrelevancies, and then she said, Mr. Brandreth tells me you have met my husband, as if they had been talking of him. Yes; I had that pleasure even before I met Mr. Brandreth, said Ray. And you know Mr. Kane? Oh, yes. He was the first acquaint- ance I made in New York. Mr. Brandreth told me. Mrs. Chap- ley made a show of laughing at the no- tion of Kane as a harmless eccentric, and she had the effect of extending her kindly derision to Hughes in saying, And youve been taken to sit at the feet of his prophet already, Mr. Brandreth tells me: that strange Mr. Hughes. I shouldnt have said he was Mr. Kanes prophet exactly, said Ray with a smile of sympathy. Mr. Kane doesnt seem to need a prophet; but Ive certain- ly seen Mr. Hughes. And heard him, for that matter. He smiled, recollecting his dismay when he heard Hughes calling upon him in meeting. He had a notion to describe his experience, and she gave him the chance. Yes ? she said, with veiled anxiety. Do tell me about him ! At the end of Rays willing compli- ance, she drew a deep breath, and said, Then he is not a follower of TolstoY? Quite the contrary, I should say. Mrs. Chapley laughed more easily. I didnt know but he made shoes that no- body could wear. I couldnt imagine what other attraction lie could have for my hus- band. I believe he would really like to go into the country and work in the fields. Mrs. Chapley laughed away a latent anxie- ty, apparently, in making this joke about her husband, and seemed to feel much better acquainted with Ray. How are they living over there? What sort of family has Mr. Hughes? I mean, besides the daughter we know of? Ray told, as well as lie could, and he said they were living in an apartment. Oh! said Mrs. Chapley, I fancied a sort of tenement. By - the - way, said Mr. Brandreth, wouldnt you like to see our apartment, Mr. Ray his wife quelled him with a glance, and he addedsoine time? Ray said he should, very much. Mrs. Brandreth, like her mother, had been growing more and more clement, and now she said, Wont you stay and take a family dinner with us, Mr. Ray? Ray looked at her husband, and saw that he had not told her of the invitation he had already given. He did not do so now, and Ray rose and seized his oppor- tunity. He thanked Mrs. Brandreth very earnestly, and said he was so sorry he had an appointment to keep, and he got himself away at once. Mrs. Chapley hospitably claimed him for her Thursdays, at parting; and Mrs. Brandreth said he must let Mr. Brandreth bring him some other day; they would always be glad to see him. Mr. Brandreth went down to the outer door with him, to make sure that he found the way, and said, Then you will come some time? and gratefully wrung his hand. I saw how anxious you were about those opinions I [TO BE cONTINUED.] HOW KENTUCKY BECAME A STATE. nv GEORGE w. RANcK. IT is not Kentuckys fault if the centen- nial of her admission into the Union comes in 1892, right alongside of the fourth centennial of the discovery of America. Congress is to blame for that. But, even a contrast with the tremendous achievement of the incomparable Cohum bus cannot divest of its absorbing interest the romantic story of the founding of our first interior commonwealth. Its very beginning was unique. The rise of a State and the establishment of the magnificent empire of the West were decreed when, on the 7th of June, 1769, HOW KENTUCKY BECAME A STATE. 47 Daniel Boone looked out upon the beau- tiful level of Kentucky, which so im- pressed him with the abundance and splendid development of its animal life, with the astonishing fertility of its virgin soil, and the lavishness of its natural gifts, still clothed with all the charms of primeval freshness, that he afterwards described it as a second paradise. Kentucky, in the manner of her found- ing, illustrated the new era that had just dawned upon the world. Unlike any of the States of the old Confederation, she had never actually experienced the do- minion of a foreign power, nor felt the authority of a royal master. She was born free. Boone brought with him into the depths of the Western wild a coal of that sacred fire which burned so brightly upon the banks of the Yadkin, and in the same month of May, 1775, when the he- roic North Carolinians adopted the im- mortal declaration of Mecklenburg, the pioneers of Kentucky gathered in solemn conclave under a mighty elm in the now famous blue-grass region, and they also virtually proclaimed their independence of Great Britain. For this alone could be the meaning of the attempted establish- ment of the colony of Transylvania upon no other authority than that of occupan- cy and of a deed from the Cherokees, and with the bold announcement specifically and deliberately made that all power is originally in the people. Such was the spirit of the men who laid the foundation of Kentucky, and built upon it under circumstances that seemed a defiance of the impossible itself. They did this in a land which they found devoid of every product of human art, and while cut off from civilization and from human aid by hundreds of miles and by ranks of mountains. It was one of the most remarkable feats of the Anglo-Saxon race, and in some respects is without a parallel. It opened the way for results the importance of which is al- ready beyond all calculation. But swallowed up as they were in this vast solitude, the pioneers were not too remote for savage vengeance, nor too far away to bear a glorious part in the war of the Revolution. Few minor events of American history are more thrilling or more widely known than the successes of the Hunters of Kentucky over the British and the Indians at the sieges of Boonshorough and of Bryants Station, their massacre at the deadly ambuscade of the Blue Licks, and the swift and wonder- ful campaigns of George Rogers Clark, the Stonewall Jackson of the early West. It was in 1780, in the very midst of the harassments and distractions of this war, that Virginia, to her everlasting credit, took time to perfect a bill and make a donation for education in Kentucky that resulted in the founding of Transylvania University. Jefferson, whose broad cult- ure was second only to his superb states- manship, was then at the helm in the Old Dominion, and he had linked his enduring name with that of Kentucky long before he had penned the Resolutions of 98. To fully appreciate the situation of the Kentucky pioneers, it must, be remember- ed that while the close of the Revolution meant peace to the seaboard States, it did not mean peace to them. Savage depre- dations and burnings and slaughters con- tinued through all the years from the surrender of Yorktown until the British gave up the military posts in the North- west, and to these aggravations, from which the old government could not pro- tect them, must be added the trying vex- ations through which they went before they could secure the separation of the district from Virginia, and its admission into the Union. It was during these un- settled times that General Wilkinson, the soldier of fortune who afterwards became the commander-in-chief of the American army, cut such a figure; that the Spanish conspiracy and the question of the free navigation of the Mississippi so agitated the people; and that the jealousy of the North and the South over the balance of power had an early demonstration in the long-delayed reception of Kentucky with her slaves as a member of the Union. The old Confederation had ample time to crumble leisurely to pieces, and Ken- tucky to consume years in holding separa- tion conventions before the object she so patiently sought was gained. It was not until the 4th of February, 1791, that Con- gress passed the bill admitting her into the Union, but the event was put off for more than a year, for the bill stipulated that it was not to occur until the 1st of June, 1792. This act was the first of its kind ever adopted by the Congress of the United States, and was signed by Wash- ington when New York city was the capi- tal of the country, and when the present Federal government was only three years 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. old. An eloquent evidence of the patri- otic feeling existing in Kentucky at this time, in spite of her neglect by the gov- ernment, is seen in the date of the adop- tion of her first Constitutionthe 19th of April, 1792the anniversary of the battle of Lexington. This document, which was evidently modelled after the then new Constitution of the United States seems to have been for the most part the work of George Nicholas, an associate of Madi- son and Patrick Henry, a student of the backwoods who would have done credit to the Middle Temple, and the leading legal light of his day in the district. It was a College of Electors, as required by this Constitution, which convened shortly after its adoption, and in regular national style made choice of Isaac Shelby as Governor. And it came to pass that Friday, the 1st of June, 1792, rolled around, and on that day, a hundred years ago, Kentucky became a member of the Union, with Lexington, the most central of her settle- ments, as the capital of the new-born State. Itis curious that Lexington, the title of a British Lord, should have become the slogan of the American Revolution, but not more curious than the fact that the first spot of ground on this continent named to commemorate the opening bat- tle of that struggle should have been lo- cated beyond the confines of civilization, and in the heart of the far-distant wilder- ness of Kentucky. Lexington, the me- tropolis of the blue-grass region, is to-day the oldest public monument in existence to the first dead of the war of indepen- dence, and she was toasted as the first namesake of Lexington, Massachusetts, at the centennial celebration of that battle. The beautiful incident of the naming of Lexington, Kentucky, which occurred early in June, 1775, was witnessed by Simon Kenton and other noted pioneers. Longfellow was urged to make it the sub- ject of a poem, and corresponded with the writer in regard to it, but he died, unfor- tunately, too soon for the story to be em- balmed by him in immortal verse. When Lexington became the capital of Kentucky in 1792, she had a thousand in- habitants, and was the largest and most important town in the State, in spite of mud roads and of thieving Indians, who carried off the settlers negroes and sold them at Detroit for whiskey. Her stores were filled with heavy stocks of goods; manufactories flourished, and especially powder-mills, as one might naturally im- agine, considering the exposed condition of her customers; her sales of pack-horses were large and constant; her schools were growing; traders were coming and going all the time; and altogether she was a busy town, furnishing an immense area of the Western country, including Cin- cinnati, with supplies of every kind. Such was the settlement, crowded with strangers, where on Monday the 4th of June, 1792, commenced the first session of the Kentucky Legislature, and the or- ganization of the State government. On that day Governor Shelby arrived from Danville, where all the conventions had been held, and as he came on horseback down the hill which overlooked the little capital, the citizens made the valley of the Elkhorn resound with the cracking of their flint-lock rifles, and with the roar of an old six-pounder which the explosive and emphatic Mad Anthony Wayne re- quested the use of a short time after. The Governor, provided with leggins, saddle- bags, and holsters, was halted with his escort at the intersection of the two prin- cipal streets of the village, where he was received with military honors by the lar- gest and most picturesque procession that the Western country had ever seen. There, with all the formality and punc- tiliousness that Sir Charles Grandison himself could have desired, he was pre- sented with a written address of welcome in behalf of Lexington by Mr. John Brad- ford, or Old Wisdom, as he was ad- miringly called, the chairman of the town Board of Trustees, the editor of the only newspaper in the commonwealth, and a gentleman of substantial scientific attain- ments. The oath of office was then ad- ministered to the Governor, who, after more salutes had been indulged in, took his place in the procession, which imme- diately began to move, and to the sound of drum and fife and ten village bells, he was escorted through the main street. past the printing-office, the site of the old block-house, the prosperous-loikin g stores, and the liberty pole, the pillory, and the stocks, the court-house yard, where the settlers hitched their horses and on to the Sheaf of Wheat inn, where he lighted from his tired nag and lodged. The Light Infantry and the Troop of Horse then paraded the SLEEP. 49 unpaved public square, where the inau- gural ceremonies were concluded by the firing of fifteen roundsone for each of the States then in the Unionand a gen- eral discharge of rifles in honor of the new Governor. The General Assembly met in the State House, a gloomy but substantial two-story log building of the regular old pioneer type, above whose gabled roof on Main Street floated the American flag. It met, however, mainly to elect officers, after which it adjourned, and the rest of the day was spent in rejoicings, in the an- nouncement of appointments by the Gov- ernor, and in the interchange of courte- sies between the citizens and their guests. On the 6th of June, after the Legislature had been fully organized, the members of both Houses assembled in the Senate Chamber of the State House to formally receive the Governors message, which was delivered in person, after the elab- orate Federal style of the day, which was followed in Kentucky up to the time of Governor Ssott, when it was changed to the present simple one in accordance with a precedent established by Presi- dent Jefferson. Exactly at noon the Gov- ernor entered the plain and unpreten- tious room attended by the Secretary of State, and was immediately conducted to a position on the right of the Speaker of the Senate, when, after respectfully ad- dressing first the Senate and then the House, he proceeded to read the commu- nication he had prepared. At the close of the address he delivered to each Speak- er a copy of the manuscript, and retired as solemnly and as formally as he had entered. The two Houses then separated, and after gravely voting an address in re- ply to that of his Excellency, adjourned. It was a curious sight, that first session of the Kentucky Legislature, where an imitation of a kingly custom of Great Britain appeared in such striking con- trast to the natural and unaffected ways of early Western life: the pomp of the House of Lords in a log cabin; the royal ermine and the republican coon-skin. Kentucky literally fought her way to Statehood through seventeen such years as mark the calendar of no other Amer- ican commonwealth. She had never known the fostering care of the general government, which, even as late as 1792, had accomplished nothing in the way of opening the Mississippi to her trade, nor had done anything to free her from that serious obstacle to her progress, the re- tention of the Northwestern posts by Eng- land. The presence of British troops en- couraged the Indians to violence; and the State was admitted to the Union during the murdering and marauding that fol- lowed St. Clairs defeat. But the self- made commonwealth remained true to the government which so many of her sons had fought and suffered to establish. The very motto of the State seal is a re- minder of the patriotic sentiments which animated Kentucky a hundred years ago. It was suggested by a couplet from a popular air that was sung by the Sons of Liberty during the Revolution: Come, join hand in hand, Americans all; By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall. SLEEP. BY ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN. 1) EHOLD I lay in prison like St. Paul, .1) Chained to two guards that both were grim and stout. All day they sat by me and held me thrall: The one was named Regret, the other Doubt. And through the twilight of that hopeless close. There came an angel shining suddenly Tbat took me by the hand and as I rose The chains grew soft and slipped away from me. The doors gave back and swung without a sound, Like petals of some magic flower unfurled. I followed, treading oer enchanted ground, Into another and a kindlier world. The master of that black and bolted keep Thou knowest is Life; the angels name is Sleep.

Archibald Lampman Lampman, Archibald Sleep. A Sonnet 49-50

SLEEP. 49 unpaved public square, where the inau- gural ceremonies were concluded by the firing of fifteen roundsone for each of the States then in the Unionand a gen- eral discharge of rifles in honor of the new Governor. The General Assembly met in the State House, a gloomy but substantial two-story log building of the regular old pioneer type, above whose gabled roof on Main Street floated the American flag. It met, however, mainly to elect officers, after which it adjourned, and the rest of the day was spent in rejoicings, in the an- nouncement of appointments by the Gov- ernor, and in the interchange of courte- sies between the citizens and their guests. On the 6th of June, after the Legislature had been fully organized, the members of both Houses assembled in the Senate Chamber of the State House to formally receive the Governors message, which was delivered in person, after the elab- orate Federal style of the day, which was followed in Kentucky up to the time of Governor Ssott, when it was changed to the present simple one in accordance with a precedent established by Presi- dent Jefferson. Exactly at noon the Gov- ernor entered the plain and unpreten- tious room attended by the Secretary of State, and was immediately conducted to a position on the right of the Speaker of the Senate, when, after respectfully ad- dressing first the Senate and then the House, he proceeded to read the commu- nication he had prepared. At the close of the address he delivered to each Speak- er a copy of the manuscript, and retired as solemnly and as formally as he had entered. The two Houses then separated, and after gravely voting an address in re- ply to that of his Excellency, adjourned. It was a curious sight, that first session of the Kentucky Legislature, where an imitation of a kingly custom of Great Britain appeared in such striking con- trast to the natural and unaffected ways of early Western life: the pomp of the House of Lords in a log cabin; the royal ermine and the republican coon-skin. Kentucky literally fought her way to Statehood through seventeen such years as mark the calendar of no other Amer- ican commonwealth. She had never known the fostering care of the general government, which, even as late as 1792, had accomplished nothing in the way of opening the Mississippi to her trade, nor had done anything to free her from that serious obstacle to her progress, the re- tention of the Northwestern posts by Eng- land. The presence of British troops en- couraged the Indians to violence; and the State was admitted to the Union during the murdering and marauding that fol- lowed St. Clairs defeat. But the self- made commonwealth remained true to the government which so many of her sons had fought and suffered to establish. The very motto of the State seal is a re- minder of the patriotic sentiments which animated Kentucky a hundred years ago. It was suggested by a couplet from a popular air that was sung by the Sons of Liberty during the Revolution: Come, join hand in hand, Americans all; By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall. SLEEP. BY ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN. 1) EHOLD I lay in prison like St. Paul, .1) Chained to two guards that both were grim and stout. All day they sat by me and held me thrall: The one was named Regret, the other Doubt. And through the twilight of that hopeless close. There came an angel shining suddenly Tbat took me by the hand and as I rose The chains grew soft and slipped away from me. The doors gave back and swung without a sound, Like petals of some magic flower unfurled. I followed, treading oer enchanted ground, Into another and a kindlier world. The master of that black and bolted keep Thou knowest is Life; the angels name is Sleep. T JE AUSTRO-HUNGAIIIAN APMX. BY FELDZEUGMEISTE BARON YON KUHN. consequence of the events of the year 1866, the Austro- Hungarian monar- chy effectuated a radical change in its military system. The principles upon which the Prussian military constitu- tion had been estab- lished ser red in gen- eral as its basis. zation, disposition of troops, administra- tion, the affairs of justice, health, debt, etc. The naval section, with its two de- partments for business, forms an inde- pendent part of the Imperial Ministry of War. There is also in each of the two parts of the empire a Ministry of National Defence, to which the affairs of the land- wehr and landsturm are submitted. The landwehren of the single parts of the em- pire form bodies constitutionally separated from each other. Since the new (lefensive laws of 1889, the army of first class, as His Majesty the well as the imperial and royal landwehr, Kaiser has supreme is unconditionally subject to the com- mands of the Kaiser, and relatively to those of the Impeiial Minister of War. But the restriction upon the emplo ment of the royal Hungarian landwehr abroad oi in other parts of the enipire has been fixed by the decision of the rep- resentative bodies, though it may be em- ployed without the leave of these bodies if there be danger in delay. The language of the service is German, excepting in the Hungarian landwehi, where the Hungarian and Croatian dia- lects prevail. The military system is based upon the reqnire& service of every man for twenty- four years after reaching his majority. The regular required service is as follows: 1. In the first class, ten years for the army and its Ersatz reserve (substitute reserve), that is, three years in line and seven in reserve; ten years in the Ersatz reserve for those directly appointed to the same; twelve years for the armed force of Bosnia and Herzegovina, that is, thre years in line and nine in reserve; twelve years for the marine, that is, four years in line, five in reserve, and three in m - rine defence. 2. In the second class (landwehr), two years after completion of required service in the standing army, or twelve for those directl - appointed to the landwehr or its Ersatz reserve. 3. In the third class (landsturm), three years before entering upon the age for re- quired service, nine years for all who had left the maiine and the landwehr, twen- ty-one years for all who have been ap- pointed directly to the landsturm, Through the increase of the annual re command over the entire armed force of the many parts of the empire, and as commander - in- chief he also has the po rer to de- clare war o~ peace. The political dual- ism, the division of the monarchy into two distinct states of the empire, each of which has its own constitution and a distinct sys- tem of representa- tion, has not been HALBERBIER ( 1WPERORS without influence BODY-GUARD). upon the formation of the military re- lations of the imperial state. Fortunate- ly, indeed, the real strength of the army- the lineexists as a unified whole, and the existing army, as such, is under impe- rial regulation; but the right of recruit- ment and of legislation with reference to military service has been reserved to those representing in Parliament (Reichsrath) those countries included under the general title of Cisleithania, on the one side, and to the provinces of the Hungarian crown, Transleithania on the other side. The Imperial Ministry of War forms the supreme nucleus of the whole milita- ry power of the monarchy. It is divided into four sections, comprising fifteen de- partments, in which are united the many bra iches of the personnel of the organi

Baron Von Kuhn, F.Z.M. Von Kuhn, Baron, F.Z.M. The Austro-Hungarian Army 50-70

T JE AUSTRO-HUNGAIIIAN APMX. BY FELDZEUGMEISTE BARON YON KUHN. consequence of the events of the year 1866, the Austro- Hungarian monar- chy effectuated a radical change in its military system. The principles upon which the Prussian military constitu- tion had been estab- lished ser red in gen- eral as its basis. zation, disposition of troops, administra- tion, the affairs of justice, health, debt, etc. The naval section, with its two de- partments for business, forms an inde- pendent part of the Imperial Ministry of War. There is also in each of the two parts of the empire a Ministry of National Defence, to which the affairs of the land- wehr and landsturm are submitted. The landwehren of the single parts of the em- pire form bodies constitutionally separated from each other. Since the new (lefensive laws of 1889, the army of first class, as His Majesty the well as the imperial and royal landwehr, Kaiser has supreme is unconditionally subject to the com- mands of the Kaiser, and relatively to those of the Impeiial Minister of War. But the restriction upon the emplo ment of the royal Hungarian landwehr abroad oi in other parts of the enipire has been fixed by the decision of the rep- resentative bodies, though it may be em- ployed without the leave of these bodies if there be danger in delay. The language of the service is German, excepting in the Hungarian landwehi, where the Hungarian and Croatian dia- lects prevail. The military system is based upon the reqnire& service of every man for twenty- four years after reaching his majority. The regular required service is as follows: 1. In the first class, ten years for the army and its Ersatz reserve (substitute reserve), that is, three years in line and seven in reserve; ten years in the Ersatz reserve for those directly appointed to the same; twelve years for the armed force of Bosnia and Herzegovina, that is, thre years in line and nine in reserve; twelve years for the marine, that is, four years in line, five in reserve, and three in m - rine defence. 2. In the second class (landwehr), two years after completion of required service in the standing army, or twelve for those directl - appointed to the landwehr or its Ersatz reserve. 3. In the third class (landsturm), three years before entering upon the age for re- quired service, nine years for all who had left the maiine and the landwehr, twen- ty-one years for all who have been ap- pointed directly to the landsturm, Through the increase of the annual re command over the entire armed force of the many parts of the empire, and as commander - in- chief he also has the po rer to de- clare war o~ peace. The political dual- ism, the division of the monarchy into two distinct states of the empire, each of which has its own constitution and a distinct sys- tem of representa- tion, has not been HALBERBIER ( 1WPERORS without influence BODY-GUARD). upon the formation of the military re- lations of the imperial state. Fortunate- ly, indeed, the real strength of the army- the lineexists as a unified whole, and the existing army, as such, is under impe- rial regulation; but the right of recruit- ment and of legislation with reference to military service has been reserved to those representing in Parliament (Reichsrath) those countries included under the general title of Cisleithania, on the one side, and to the provinces of the Hungarian crown, Transleithania on the other side. The Imperial Ministry of War forms the supreme nucleus of the whole milita- ry power of the monarchy. It is divided into four sections, comprising fifteen de- partments, in which are united the many bra iches of the personnel of the organi 0 U VOL. LXXXV.No. 5036 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. nual recruit contingent for the imperial- royal landwehr amounts to 10,000 men; for the royal Hungarian landwehr, 12,500 men. The army of the third class, the land- sturm, is intended, in case of necessity, to supply the first and second classes, to furnish the army with the laboring forces necessary for its requirements, and, final- ly, to directly oppose the enemy that has forced its way into the country. It thus represents the last resource of strength on the part of the defensive forces of the country. It is divided into two summons, and consists of nine years drill in mili- tary service. The military law of 1889, as opposed to that of 1868, makes necessary curtail- ments owing to the shortened term of required service. Absolute exemption is wholly excluded. A one-year (so-called) volunteer service will satisfy the military obligation of an educated young man. He is not allowed, however, during this volunteer year to continue his profes- sional studies; and in case he fails to pass the examination of the reserve officer at the expiration of this period, he must continue his service a second year along with the troops. These regulations cause at present a greater number of the one- year volunteers to attain the rank of re- serve officer. In order to distribute the military bur- den more equally upon the shoulders of all the subjects, a war revenue, called the military tax, is levied in the Austro-Hun- garian monarchy. Excepting those whol- ly destitute and unable to work, every subject liable to service, unless on account of unfitness he fails to obtain appoint- merit and is rejected, or emigrates before the completion of his service,has to pay an annual tax proportionate to his fortune or business for each year of service. This sum varies between one and one hundred gulden, and in Hungary between three and one hundred. The moneys thus col lected are employed for the support of sol- diers widows and orphans. It is desirable that there should be an HUNGARIAN INFANTRY. increase in the income from the military tax, in order that it may be adequate for the support of the soldiers widows and cruit contingent to the number of 103,000 orphans, as intended. men for the army of the first class, which The following difficulties still continue was passed in 1889, an operative military in the regulations of the new military force of 800000 men was assured, law for the army of the second class: the In the army of the second class the an- want of unified management, the me- AUSTRTAN INFANTRY. 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. quality of the contingents as regards age and training, the need of one common of- ficial language; also the restriction upon the use of the royal Hungarian landwehr. For military purposes it is very desirable that these defects should be removed, yet it is impossible under present political circumstances. Based upon the military laws thus cur- sorily described, the organization has been effected. The Inspector-General of the army, who oversees the instruction and training of the army, and also directs and supervises the more important evolutions of the troops, is wholly responsible to his Majesty. The oldest son of the victor of Aspern, his Imperial Highness Field - marshal Archduke Albrecht, born 1817, has been intrusted for many years with the posi- tion of Imperial and Royal Inspector- General of the army. At the head of the Generals Staff is the so-called Chief of the Generals Staff, personally first in order under the imme- diate command of his Majesty the Kaiser. Second in order, he is assistant to the Im- perial Ministry of War, and generally directs his proposals to the latter, but he is also empowered to report directly to his Majesty the Kaiser upon important matters. The Austrian corps staff of generals forms an exclusive officers corps, and promotion in it is made from the captain to the chief. The supply to the corps of the Generals Staff is as follows: (a) In rank of cap- tain, from officers with a record of at least three years successful service in commanding troops, and of at least satis- factory graduation from the military school, or completion of the final exam- ination of this same school. The as- signment to service on the Generals Staff precedes, without any limit as to time, the reception into the corps of the Generals Staff. (b) In rank of major, from chiefs (Rittmeister) of all arms, after passing the examination for staff-officer of the Generals Staff, and after a proof of practical qualification. The officers of the Generals Staff under occasional special orders come in contact with the troops, but they are separated from the real life of the inner circle of the army. The Chief of the Generals Staff has charge of the employment, equipment, and instruction of the corps of the Generals Staff. The duties of the officers of the Gen- erals Staff are service in its six bureaus, in the war archive, in the Imperial Min- istry of War, and also in the higher staffs, as well as in special military occupations. For the purpose of military organiza- tion the monarchy is subdivided into fif- teen military territorial districts, that is, into fourteen corps districts and one mil- itary commandery or post. The territory of occupationBosnia, Herzegovina, and the Landschak of Novi- Bazarforms a separate (fifteenth) corps district. The leading posts in these dis- trictscorps commands, sometimes called military commandsare as follows: first, the corps command in Cracow, includes West Galicia, Silesia, and the northern part of Moravia; second, in Vienna, in- cludes Lower Austria, the middle and southern part of Moravia; third, in Gr~tz, includes Steiermark, Kiirnten, Krain, Istria, G6ritz, and Gradisca; the fourth in Buda-Pesth, fifth in Pressburg, sixth in Kaschau, and the seventh in Temes- var form the divisions in Hungary; the eighth in Prague and ninth in Joseph- stadt, the divisions in Bohemia; tenth, in Przemysl, includes Middle Galicia; elev- enth, in Leniberg, East Galicia and Bu- kowina; twelfth, in Hermannstadt, Sie- benbiirgen; thirteenth, in Agram, Croa- tia and Sclavonia; fourteenth, in Inns- bruck, Tyrol, Vorarlberg, Salzburg, and Upper Austria; fifteenth, in Sarajevo, the occupation district; the military post in Zara, Dalmatia. The mobilizable commands, posts, com- panies, and establishments of the armed force comprise, as a whole, in case of war, the army in the field. It is organized, ac- cording to the provisional military cir- cumstances, into an army corps of higher rank, that is, in companies, in corps, and in armies. The companies are distin- guished according to their combination in infantry or cavalry troops. The first organization of the army in the field into the so-called bodies of the army, the for- mation of this latter, as well as the ar- rangement of the commands and posts, companies and establishments in the same, are determined by his Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty, as commander- in-chief, by means of the military ordre de batailic. The companies organized as the army in the field are equipped, on mobilization, with all kinds of necessary military sup- 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. plies, so that they may be either joined in a corps or arranged in smaller armies, subject to the immediate order of the commander of the army, able in either case, however, to be employed indepen- dently for a greater or less length of time. The infantry troops, formed principal- ly from all kinds of arms, constitute the first tactical and administrative body of the army of higher order, and, at the same time, the basal unity for the combi- nation of corps and army. The infantry division regularly consists of two infan- try brigades, composed of fourteen or fif- teen battalions of infantry and Jiiger troops, three to four squadrons of caval- ry, one division of battery (twenty-four cannons) as artillery of the division, finally technical troops and the necessary establishments. The cavalry section con- sists regularly of two cavalry brigades, including four regiments of cavalry, one mounted division of battery, as artillery of the division (twelve guns), and the necessary equipments. The corps con- sists regularly of two or three infantry di- visions, two battery divisions, as corps artillery (forty-eight guns), the necessary technical troops, military pontoon-bridge conveyances, and finally the equipments. The commander of the army has the di- rection of the greater cavalry forces in each single corps; to the commander of the corps, in case of necessity, namely, on the march and in battle, is left the power to unite the cavalry which has been as- signed to the divisions of infantry, and to dispose of the same. The separate corps on the march regularly form the army column, to which, in order to make them as independent as possible, are as- signed two lines or parts of the same (field magazine of supplies, field hospital, etc.), both according to the need and the conditions of operation. If a corps or a company be detached for a greater or less length of time for the performance of any independent operations, or even at the very beginning of the campaign be detailed for special services, such parts of the army are correspondingly organized and equipped with supplies and reserve outfits requisite to their self-maintenance in proportion to the number of the fight- ing force and the task assigned. The army bodies of higher order which, according to provisional military circum- stances, are placed under one and the same command, form an army. This same is composed generally of the num- ber of corps or troop divisions deter- mined by the ordre dc batailic, the re- quired number of technical troops, mili- tary bridge conveyances, and the reserve outfits of second order. If several armies are ordered to operate on one and the same battle - ground, a commander - in- chief of the army is appointed by special direction of the highest authorities. A field-marshal is intrusted with this lead- ership. The corps are commanded by the ordnance-master, the divisions by field- marshal lieutenants. The division and distribution of the imperial and royal army in peace contain thirty troop divisions of infantry, four of artillery (Lemberg, Jaroslaw, Cracow, and Vienna), sixty-three infantry bri- gades, six mountaineer, nineteen caval- ry, and fourteen artillery. The system of supplying the army from the territo- ries, that is, the formation of it from mil- itary territories, cannot be a uniformly perfect and strict one, because of the necessary consideration of the political boundaries. The conditions of housing are for the most part favorable. The most substan- tial stipulations for a continuous progress in this direction were procured through the laws on quartering. Infantry, artil- lery, and technical troops are almost al- together quartered in caserns, and only exceptionally, in Galicia and in the ter- ritory of occupation, in barracks. The cavalry is stationed, for the most part, in caserns and barracks, but in a few cases among the citizens. The first class, according to the single weapons, next consists of 102 regiments of infantry, composed of four field bat- talions, each of which numbers four field companies and one Ersatz battalion of four Ersatz companies. In time of peace, only the cadres are present in these latter. In case of mobilization, one to two additional staffs are appointed to the Ersatz battalions. The field companies are numbered from 1 to 16, the Ersatz companies from 1 to 4. The regiments themselves are designated consecutively by number, but usually have in addition the name of the commander. The peace establishment of a regiment of infantry, consisting of staff, 4 field battalions, and the staff of the Ersatz bat- talion, amounts to 73 officers, 1422 men, and 5 horses. THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ARMY. 57 In peace, one-half of the captains in the infantry are mounted, and these are obliged to furnish their own horses. In case of mobilization, each captain provid- ing a horse for himself receives a ration of forage. The peace strength of the Austro-Hun- garian infantry in line, estimated accord- ing to the normal establishment in peace, consists of 408 field battalions, together with 102 Ersatz battalion cadres, amount- ing to about 7300 officers, 145,000 men, and 500 horses. In war, these numbers are consider- ably increased. The war establishment of a field or Ersatz company regularly amounts to 4 officers and 232 men; at times, 5 officers and 228 men. That of the regiment, 110 officers and 4871 men, of whom 98 officers and 4549 men are in fighting order. In war order, the whole infantry in line, with its 510 field and Ersatz battalions, together with the staff, presents a force of about 11,200 officers, 496,800 men, and 5800 horses. The Jager troop is composed of the Tyrolese regiment and 30 independent battalions of field Jiiger. The re~,iment first mentioned consists of 12 field bat- talions and 3 Ersatz battalions, to each of which latter, in peace, 1 staff is appointed. Each of the field battalions is made up of 4 field companies, numbered from 1 to 48; each of the Ersatz battalions consists of 4 companies, numbered from 1 to 12. The 42 Jiiger battalions, along with their 42 Ersatz companies, enroll in their ranks, in peace, 812 officers, 20,504 men, and 85 horses. Over against these fig- ures stands a military force of about 1150 officers, 55,400 men, and 1730 horses, representing the 42 field battalions and the 42 Ersatz companies. Both infantry and J~ger are armed with repeating rifles of the Manulicher system, a six-grooved 8-millimeter calibre breech-loader, with packet-loading, which may be counted among the most precise weapons. Its range has been increased to 2500 metres. The pouch ammunition con- sists of 100 cartridges. In the Austro- Hungarian monarchy there is only one manufactory of arms, which is in Steyr, and belongs to a stock company. It is remarkably well equipped for work, and by running full time, excluding night- work, can supply upwards of 9000 rifles per week. The number of regiments corresponds URLAN (ONE-YEAR VOLUNTEERS). to the divisions of the monarchy, namely, 105 military supply districts and 3 naval. To each of the 102 regiments of infantry of the former, one district has been as- signed regularly as Ersatz (supply), and to the regiment of Tyrolese J~iger three districts. For the Ersatz of the other arms and military establishments, special regulations have been made. There is in every district a command of the supply 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. district for the transaction of the Ersatz affairs, the commander of which is simul- taneously commander of the Ersatz bat- talion. The Austro - Hungarian army has 42 regiments of cavalry, and of these the 15 dragoon regiments are recruited only from Germans and partly from Czechs, the 16 hussar regiments from Hungary, and the 11 ublan regiments receive Polish and Croto-Sclavonian recruits. Each of these regiments consists of the staff, two divisions of three squadrons each, and of the Ersatz cadre, which is locally join- ed to the regiment in time of peace. In mobilization an Ersatz squadron is form- ed from the Ersatz cadre for the express purpose of supervising the training of the Ersatz troops and procuring substitutes of horses; further, one reserve squadron, which is to be used with the bodies of the army and for purposes of occupation, two bands of staff cavalry for service at the quarters of the chief and the staff, and finally one telegraph patrol. A band of pioneers is assigned to each regiment of cavalry in order to enable the troops to make those remote excur- sions which are often necessary on ac- count of the destruction of works, for ex- ample, of railways, etc. The peace register of a field squadron is 5 officers, 166 men, and 156 horses; in war it humbers 5 horses more, but is oth- erwise the same. The pioneer band has 1 officer, 27 men, and 28 horses. The regiment of cavalrystaff, 6 squad- rons, Ersatz staff-registers in peace 43 of- ficers, 1037 men, and 965 horses; in war, with staff, 6 field squadrons, 1 Ersatz squadron, 1 reserve squadron, 2 bands staff cavalry, including the train, which numbers 62 officers, 1649 men, 1639 horses; of these, 1386 are mounted in fighting condition. The force of the Austro - Hungarian horsemen in time of peace, therefore, amounts to 252 squadrons, 1806 officers and 43,554 men; in war, 252 field and 42 reserve squadrons, for the Ersatz squadron and staff cavalry bands have about 2600 officers, 69,200 men, and 68,600 horses. The lance (pike) having been taken from the uhlan regiments in 1884, the entire mounted force is furnished alike with horses and weapons, thus produ- cing that unity of the cavalry for which so many had earnestly worked. The weapons consist of a sabre and Werndl carbine, which allows a shot to be aimed at a distance of 1600 metres. The under- officers carry a revolver. The military ammunition pouch car- ries fifty rounds of cartridges for the breech-loading carbine, thirty for the re- volver. Up to the present time horses have been procured for the army by general purchasing of full-aged ones through the three commissions of remount-assent and their four expositors, or by retail trading of the individual members of the troops. The breeding of horses is highly de- veloped in many parts of the monarchy, and the horse market very good. In each of three colt farms there are kept 400 colts from three and one-half to four and one-half years of age. These are assigned to the regiments after they have become full grown. On the other hand, measures have been taken to stop the trading and to purchase the horses as directly as possible from the breeder. More than one-third are procured by di- rect purchase, and less than two-thirds by contract and free competition. It is calculated that regularly the annual de- inand requires twelve per cent. riding and ten per cent. draught borses, mak- ing about six thousand animals. In case of mobilization, owners of horses are bound by law to make up the necessary increase for the army for an indemnity. The artillery is divided into the field and the fortress artillery; and further, the field artillery consists of fourteen re- giments of corps artillery, twenty-eight heavy battery divisions, and one mountain battery in Tyrol. The regiments of corps artillery have the numbers of the army corps to which they belong, besides the name of the commander. The heavy batteries are numbered from 1 to 28. In each corps the regiment of corps ar- tillery and the batteries apportioned to the two companies of infantry form one brigade of artillery, whose number agrees with that of the corps. Each of the twenty - eight batteries is made up of the staff of the division, three heavy batteries, numbered 1 to 3, the mu- nition park, and the Ersatz-depot cadre, from which, in time of mobilization, the munition-park division is made, consist- ing of one munition column of infantry, one of artillery, and the Ersatz depot. 0 0 VoL. LXXXY.No. ~O5.7 The mountaineer battery division in Tyrol is made up of the staff of the divi- sion, three mountaineer batteries, with various mountaineer armament, number- ed 1, 3, and 5 (doubled in time of mobili- zation, adding Nos. 2, 4, and 6), and the Ersatz-depot cadre. When the army is in the field, the regiments of corps artillery, together with the 1st and 2d battery divisions and the corps of munition park, are divided like the artillery corps, the heavy batteries numbered 1 to 28, then the heavy batteries numbered 29 to 42,which are to be distin- guished from the regiments of corps ar- tillery, together with the divisions of munition park belonging to them. In war and peace the mounted batteries have 6 guns, with horses. The other bat- teries have 4 in peace, 8 in war, exceptin~ batteries 29 to 42, which, at the least peace register, present oniy2 guns with horses. The normal register of a battery in peace is 3 offi- cers, 1 cadet officers repre- sentative, 99 men, and 42 horses; that of a mounted battery, 4 officers, 1 cadet officers representative, 120 men, and 109 horses. In war the register is in- creased to 4 officers~ 1 ca- det officers representative, 195 men, 148 horses; at times, 4 officers, 1 cadet of- ficers representative, 178 men, and 215 horses. The mountaineer batter- ies have a peculiar arrange- ment, which they have em- ployed with success in the occupation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Ordnance which can be taken apart are transported on the backs of animals. In peace a mountaineer battery of a regiment of corps artillery has 2 offi- cers, 1 cadet officers repre- sentative, 65 men, 24 moun- tam horses and beasts of burden; that of the moun- taineer battery division in Tyrol, 4 officers, 90 men, and 13 horses; but in war there are 2 officers, 1 cadet officers representative, 108 men, 67 mountain horses and beasts of burden; at times, 2 officers, 101 men, 52 mountain horses and beasts of burden. The force of the field artillery in peace, consisting of 14 regiments of corps artil- lery, 28 divisions of heavy battery, and the mountain Tyrolese battery division, with the Ersatz cadre belonging to it, contains, in 168 regular batteries, 42 at the greatest reduction, 16 mounted and 15 mountaineer, 28 munition parks, 15 Ersatz-depot cadres, 28 munition parks and Ersatz - depot cadres, with 756 ord- nance of nine centimetres bore, 96 of eight, and 60 of seven, about 1200 offi- cers, 23,400 men, and 7900 horses and beasts of burden. The force in war in- cluding reserve ordnance, with 1750 guns of nine centimetres, 96 of eight, and 72 of seven, numbers about 1900 officers, 76,400 men, 64,600 horses and beasts of burden. NV JAGER OFFICERS. THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ARMY. 61 The fortress artillery, intended for the offensive and defensive service of strong- holds, consists of six regiments of fortress artillery and three battalions of the same. The regiments are numbered from 1 to 6, having the names of their commanders. The battalions are numbered from 1 to 3. In peace the companies of fortress artil- lery are scattered chiefly in the fortresses. In peace the field company of the fortress artillery has 4 officers, 1 cadet officers rep- resentative, 99 men; in war, 6 officers, 1 cadet officers representative, and 239 men. The peace register of the fortress artil- lery numbers, in 72 field and 18 Ersatz ca dres, 408 officers, 7722 men, and 24 horses; the war register, in 90 companies, about 640 officers, 21,700 men, and 100 horses. The arms of the artillery troops, deter- mined by their special employment, con- sist of pioneer, infantry, or cavalry sa- bres. Of these same, the mounted artil- lery carry a lighter variety, also revolv- ers for the officers and the serving troops of the mounted artillery, finally Werndl infantry rifles, with 30 rounds of car- tridges as military wallet ammunition for the fortress artillery. The material for tbe guns is composed of steel - bronze, also called Uchatiuss HUSSARS. Y 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. bronze, after the inventor, General Baron von Uchatius. This is more elastic and more capable of withstanding the de- structive influence of gases than cast steel. Everything necessary for army and navy is prepared at home. In this way Austria not only has made itself in- dependent of foreign countries, but also gives considerable support to its native industries. The engineer corps is composed of the staff and troop of engineers. The former consists of officers only, the total num- ber being 159, who as engineering direc- tors manage the affairs relating to forti- fications and militia in definitely limited districts. The engineer troop consists of 2 regi- ments, each of which consists of 5 field battalions, 2 reserve companies, and 1 Er- satz battalion of 5 Ersatz companies. In peace, the latter of these consists only of the staff. The field battalion is divided into 4 companies. Furthermore, in junc- ture with the regiments are 15 columns of pioneers, provided with the necessary im- plements for the construction of greater or less works, and with the chief engineer park. In peace, both engineer regiments num- ber 276 officers, 5054 men, and 58 horses; in war, about 330 officers, 12,700 men, and 1370 horses (together with by-wagons, 1718 horses, and 558 wagons). The pioneer regiment is divided into 5 field battalions, each composed of 4 field companies, into 1 reserve company, 1 Ersatz company, and 1 reserve of ord- nance. In war it is broken up, and em- ployed in independent battalions and companies. To this pioneer regiment is leagued also the depot pioneer ordnance. The pioneer company is organized chief- ly for the building of pontoon-bridges, but its business is also to restore and destroy roads, to assist in the construction of temporary fortifications, and to construct the necessary water-works. The Austrian bridges were built from the plans of General Baron von Birago, who died in 1845. When mobilized, the entire regiment, together with the pioneer ordnance depot, the ordnance reserve, No. 6, and 2 mova- ble pioneer ordnance depots, extends from 134 officers, 2634 men, and 29 horses to a force of about 180 officers, 8100 men, and 920 horses, the regiment alone having 170 officers, 7760 men, and 920 horses. The train of the regiment numbers 412 drivers and 760 horses. The duty of the railway and telegraph regiment is to destroy or restore railways and telegraph lines, or, in some cases, to construct new ones for military purposes. In times of peace, divisions of this regi- ment are ordered to serve in the civil railway companies, in order to be better trained for this work. The peace regis- ter of the regiment, numbering 45 officers, 844 men, and 14 horses, is increased on the field to about 110 officers, 4800 men, and 350 horses. The train troop consists of three regi- ments. In peace, each of these regiments is composed of a regiments staff, five train divisions, and one Ersatz-depot ca- dre. In peace, each train division con- sists of the divisions staff, a number of train squadrons, and one Ersatz-depot ca- dre (with the number of the train divi- sion). The register of the three train regiments in peace amounts to only 327 officers, 2535 men, and 1527 horses; but the war regis- ter, on the other hand, has about 1100 offi- cers, 45,300 men, 50,200 horses, and 5000 beasts of burden. The armament con- sists of cavalry sabre for officers, cadet officers representatives, sergeants, under- officers of accounts of first class, and far- riers of all the train bands, headsof bands, underofficers of accounts of second class, corporals, and trumpeters of all the train bands, excepting the mountaineer train squadrons and divisions of train park, as well as for the mounted train soldiers of the squadrons and commands accompa- nying the train. In peace, the sanitary band consists of the command of the band and 26 sections. In time of mobilization, in addition to this. it consists of field and reserve sani- tary sections, formed in requisite numbers from the former sections, next sanitary sections for the German Ordens-hospitals for the wounded. Single sanitary sections are assigned to the hospitals of the garri- son, and have the same numbers as the latter. The sanitary band is commanded by a special corps of officers, which is inde- pendently supplied. Its members, how- ever, are not to be confused with the mili- tary medical corps of officers, the physi- cians proper. In peace, the sanitary band has a regis- TRAIN. ter of 83 officers, 2834 men, and in war 1 reserve company, and, finally, 1 staff numbers about 400 officers and 21,200 company. In war, as in peace, the bat- men. talions are to be combined into regiments. In case of need these regiments are di- The landwehren stand next to the line. vided into landwehr brigade~ and com- In peace they are kept wholly apart panies, whose classification wiih artillery from the standing army, and, moreover, comes through the artillery of ~he stand- are separated from each other by the two ing army. The register of a ~landwehr divisions of the empire. They receive (national guard) battalions stall amonnts their orders from the Ministry of National to 9 officers and 95 men. The war regis- Defence, and are supplied from those who ter of a landwehr field and reserve com- have served ten years (three in the line pany has 4 officers and 232 men; of an and seven in the reserve), and have still, Ersatz company, in normal condition 5 according to law, two years service in officers and 228 men; of a field and re- the landwehr, as well as from particular serve company of national guards, 4 offi- recruits, enrolled from ei~ht weeks np to cers, 236 men; of an Ersatz company, in three months, and also mnstered later for normal condition, 5 officers and 232 men. military drill. The landwehr of those In mobilization the register of a land- countries represented in the Ileichsrath is wehr battalion has 29 officers, 1417 men ae,ain divided into the so-called imperial- when the Ersatz company reaches its max- royal landwehr and the national guards imum rate, 29 officers, 1557 men; of a of Tyrol and Vorarlbet~g. The imperial- battalion of national guards, 32 officers royal landwehr is nnder the control of and 1488 menwhen the Ersatz company the commander-in-chief of the Ministry of reaches its maximum, 32 officers, and 1628 National Defence. The corps commands men. Therefore the total sum of the belongin~ to it form in their own district, landwehr infantry, according to the reg- as imperial-royal landwehr commari s, in- ular war register, is about 2890 officers termediate bodies. and 131,000 men. The imperial-royal landwehr infantry The armament, ammunition, regimen- consists of 82 battalions of landwehr and tals, etc., are like those of the infantry of 10 of national guards. the standing army. In war, each battalion has 1 staff, 4 The mounted landwehr troops are com- field companies, 1 Ersatz company, also posed of the land wehr cavalry, the monnt THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ARMY. 65 ed national guard in Ty- rol and Yorarlberg, and the mounted guards in Dalmatia. The landwehr caval- ry consists of 3 regiments of dragoons and 3 of uhians. The mounted national guard in Tyrol and Vor- arlberg and those in Dalmatia are intended chiefly for the ordnance, post, and signalling ser- vice. The former are enlisted from Tyrol and Vorarlberg, the latter from Dalmatia. The mounted national guard of Tyrol and Vor- arlberg is divided into a divisions staff, 2 field squadrons, and 1 Ersatz section. The mounted guards in Dalmatia are divided into one field squadron and one Ersatz section. The total number of the landwehr cavalry amounts to about 200 officers, 5260 men, and 5200 horses. The Hungarian land- wehr has a distinct posi- tion in the army, carries emblems and flags with the national colors of Hungary, and is subject during war to the com- mand placed over it, but in peace to the royal Hungarian military au- thority. As such, the commander-in- chief of the landwehr acts in union with the Ministry of Home Defence. All the youth liable to service in the defence (Wehr) who have not been placed in the army are assigiied to the landwehr, and are trained by a course in military drill. The 94 battalions forming in peace four field companies and one Ersatz company are combined into 28 regiments, whose staffs are continued even in peace. Much is being done for the training of professional officers and for their higher education, namely, through the Honv~d (militia) Ludovika Academy at Buda- Pesth, with its three grades, the four- form school for cadets, the one - year course in the training of Honv~d officers for persons having the rank of furlough, and the higher officers course. There are seven district commands ex- istin as intermediate authorities for the military and administrative official duties. The royal Hungarian landwehr caval- ry consists of 10 regiments of hussars. In peace, each of these regiments is com- posed of 6 squadrons; in war, it has, be- sides, a supplementary squadron appoint- ed from the regiments ranks, and a staff. The peace register of a royal Hunga- rian landwehr regiment of cavalry is 25 officers, 310 men, 212 horses; at times, 218 BOSNIANS. 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. EMPERORS BODY-GUARDAUSTRIAN. horses. The war register, 37 officers, 874 men, and 795 horses. The officers corps is educated in the Central Cavafry School. The landsturm is the military organi- zation of the third class in both parts of the empire, and is placed under national protection. The first call upon the landsturm con- sistin~~ as it does of those capable men from 19 to 37 years of age who do not be- long to the army or to the laudwehr, or have served out their time, is to be made in case of need,when it is to be used as an Ersatz reserve for army and landwehr, that is, for the completion of the breaks in the army on the field. The second callthe landsturm in its narrower senseincludes men capable of bearing arms from 38 to 42 years of age, he officers retired from service to 60 years of age. For many years, in Tyrol and Yorarlberg, men from 18 to 45 years of age, who are capable of bearing arms but are not serving, have been liable to the Sturm service. These form, in peace, local bands of landsturm, 50 to 100 men stron,,,, which, again, are united into com- panies of 2 to 6 bands, and into battalions of 3 to 6 companies, under elected officers. The regulations and armament are direct- ed by the state. A beginning was made, November, 1881, in Bosnia and Herzegovina to train the strong and skilful men of those parts for military service, and since the 1st of October, 1885, eight Bosnio-Herzegovinian battalions of infantry have been sent to the four supply stations of the military frontier. The officers and underofficers are appointed from the Austrian compa- nies; the arms and equipment are the same as those of the remaining infantry. The uniform has the same cut, but is light blue in color, and the red fez, with a blue woollen tassel, is worn on the head. To complete the picture, mention may here be made of the various body-guards, which are provided with very magnificent and peculiar uniforms. These are chiefly intended for the escort of the Kaiser on festive occasions and for the guard of the palaces and castles. They are appointed partly from the troops, partly from de- serving officers and non-commissioned of- ficers that have been wounded and are half disabled. They are entitled as fol- lows: first archers body-guard, Hunga- rian body-guard, halberdier body-guard, mounted squadron of body - ,,,uard, and infantry company of body-guard. A recapitulation of the figures intro- duced above, including a count of the staffs and the many military establish- ments which could not be enumerated in this necessarily concise review, shows an approximate peace strength in the I. class of 265,000 men in army, 6900 in navy, 2900 in Bosnio - Herzegovinian troops, making a grand total of 275,000 men; in the II. class of 10,000 men in the impe- rial and royal landwehr, 17,000 in royal Hungarian landwehr. Therefore the grand total peace strength is 302,000 men. THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ARMY. 67 In war, these figures are increased as follows: In the I. class, 808,000 men; in the II. class, 440,000 men. Including the members of the III. class (landsturm) that have had military training, the monarchy has disposition of about 2,390,000 men six per cent. of the entire population. The unity of the army is secured by the German-speaking and German-edu- cated corps of officers. Full recognition is given to the thoroughly scientific train- ing of the same. Numerous schools for cadets, also special ones for special weapons, are preparing young men for their future pro- fession, and a great number of training establishments, among which are the military academy in Wiener- Neustadt, the technical military academy in Vienna, and the Ludo- vika academy in Pesth, are intended for this purpose, as well as for higher instruction. Moreover, great care is bestowed on the con- tinuous education of the corps of officers. The disposable ma- terial for the training of the corps of non- commissioned officers varies in the separate provinces of Austria and Hungary, but it is for the most part good. The greater number of the non-commissioned officers acquire their instruction in their troops, where those ele- ments capable of train- ing are united in sec- tions, and are trained for a half-year, chiefly in practical service. Austria and Hungary possess a well- trained, but, on the whole, somewhat too young, corps of non-commissioned offi- cers. The improvement of the troops is sought with devoted earnestness, and the army itself seeks to profit by the experi- ence of past campaigns. In general, the training of the Austro Hungarian army is of a high grade. It is influenced by the heterogeneous char- acter of its soldiers, further by unfavor- able climatic conditions, and by the dis- tant connections of many troops. How- ever, in consequence of the uniform or- ders and the intense activity of the corps of professional officers, as a whole, a homo- geneousness of the different sorts of sol- diery is not to be mistaken. In the first class the infantry is good; it shoots and marches very well. The cavalry rides EMrERoRs BODY-GUARDHUNGARIAN. very well, and is well trained in field ser- vice. The training of the artillery and technical troops is of a high grad& In the second class, both the royal Hungarian and the imperial and royal infantry are well trained. The imperial and royal cavalry, as well as the royal Hungarian, is almost equal to that of the standing army. 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Of the more extensive fixed camps of evolution, that at Bruck-on-the-Leytha de- serves particular mention. From May until September in monthly succession it is visited annually by each of the divisions of the garrison at Vienna. At this place is established the shooting-school of the army, which forms the nucleus for prac- tice in shooting. The territorial division of the empire, which has existed for a considerable length of time, will doubtlessly have its accelerating effect on the future mobi1iz~ tion of the army. For the defence of the country the fortifications are put in the closest communication with the army. Though few in number, they are suffi- cient, on the whole, for modern require- ments, both as regards necessary protec- tion against the far-ranging guns, and as fortified camps which can furnish the room necessary for the shelter of more or less large bodies of troops. Opposite the neighbor on the east is the important for- tified camp of Cracow, with the ancient castle on Mount Wawel as citadel, with outlying forts on both banks of the Vis- tula. In middle Galicia, Przemysl, which was assailed during the Oriental war, has been built as a fortified camp. And the armament in both fortifications has been renewed. The old Spcrr forts in most of the passes of the Transylvanian Alps serve as a first line of protection against the Roumanian frontier; as a second line, similar fortifications in Siebenbfirgen, among which Karlsburg is noticeable as being a fortified depot. Peterwardein, on the former military frontier, commands the long pontoon- bridge over the Danube. Moreover, on the frontier of Servia and Bosnia there are fortified points, as Brod, Croatian Gradisca, and Little Karlstadt, on the Save and Kulpa. On the Dalmatian coast the fortified military port of Cattaro has been strength- ened, and the points of Cattaro and Se- benico have been also fortified against Montenegro. In Herzegovina the fortified towns of Trebinje, Bilek, Mostar, and Nevesinje are surrounded with forts and block- houses commandingly located, so as to mutually protect and support each other. The capital of Bosnia, Sarajevo, is also fortified. The chief military port of the monarchy is Pola, which is surrounded with strong fortifications both on its sea front and on its land side, and is also provided with a Noyan. The possession of Pola is of the greatest importance to the monarchy. Its favorable location offers a safe anch- orage to the biggest ships, and marks the place as a haven of the first class. Because of the great dock-yards, where all the ship-building and other works per- taining to the navy are done, and because of the storage of all kinds of naval sup- plies in the enormous arsenals, this port has been elevated by Austria to occupy the central position of all affairs relating to the navy, and its loss would be almost equivalent to the crippling of the fleet. Facing Italy, Austria also possesses a series of fortifications suited to the char- acter of the land. The most important passes leading from Venetia to Carinthia and Tyrol, as well as the south-south- western frontier of Tyrol, are secured by Spcrr forts, and, by the establishment of a uniform plan, they are laid out accord- ing to a connected system. Trient forms the central point for the defence of southern Tyrol. Of the frontier fortresses opposite to the German Empire maybe mentionedOlmutz, Theresienstadt, K6niggriitz, Josephstadt, in Moravia and Bohemia; yet these forti- fications no longer answer to modern de- mands, and for this reason are abandoned. Besides the unimportant fortified depots of Arad on the Maros, Temesvar, the capital of Banat, and Esseg on the Drave, the monarchy also possesses in Komorn a strong and important fortress. Komorn, built 1472 by Matthias Corvinus, on the great island at the confluence of the Waag and the Danube, was strengthened by Kaiser Leopold, 1672, and rebuilt 1805. The stronghold can be defended by a comparatively small force, and serves doubly as a tate de pont and a fortified depot. In order to assemble great army mass- es, as modern warfare demands, at fixed spaces, and with sufficient speed both for the attack and defence, it is absolutely necessary that all the avenues of commu- nication should be well developed. At present Austria and Hungary possess a net of natural waterways in their many navigable rivers and canals, the total length of which amounts to nearly 7254 kilometres. Among these, the Danube is of special importance, not only because FORTRESS ARTILLERY. it is navigable for 1452 kilometres, but also because, having this length, it flows through the whole extent of the monarchy itself. Among the means for transportation in case of war, and especially for the march out, the railway plays the chief r6le. In October, 1890, the average len~,th of railways in active use amounted to 26,223 kil ometres. The naval fleet forms the final defensive power of Austria and Hungary. For a long time, and principally, indeed, for financial reasons, it has had scarcely that care and attention which it deserves. And this was to be regretted the more since Austria and Hungary, in their ex- tensive sea-coast districts, possess excel- lent material for the manning of their ships. And the 116 different Austro- Hungarian ports of the Adriatic Sea, moreover, form settled markets for pretty valuable trade. Under the auspices of Archduke Maximilian, the navy recent- ly received fresh impulse. Admiral Te- gethoff has followed in the footsteps of the imperial Prince, and understands how to lead the fleet to a brilliant victory. The central management of the navy is in the hands of the section of the Imperial Ministry of War which it concerns and the head of the same is also commander-in- chief. The port admiralty of the principal military port, Pola, the importance and excellence of which have been already noted, and the command of the sea dis- trict in Triest, are placed directly under his charge. At the present time the floating mate- rial of the navy, including all the school- ships, tenders, hulks, and remorqueurs, consists of 125 ships and boats, which may be classified as follows: I. chief class: ships of the navy, to which belong the ships of the operative fleet and those for special purposes. The operative fleet contains (1) battle ships (iron-clad), and, indeed, 2 turret ships, 8 casemated ships, and 1 armed frigate; (2) the cruisers, that is, 7 torpedo-ships, 5 tor- pedo-boats; (3) the torpedo-boats, namely, 23 first class, Nos. IX.XXXIV. second class, Nos. 1.VIII. third class; (4) ad- vice-boats, wheel steamers, 3; (5) train- ships, 1 torpedo - depot ship, I workshop ship, 1 material-transport ship, and 1 ship arranged for the transport of the sick (6) 2 small monitors on the Danube. Ships for special purposes include (1) station and mission ships, namely, 2 frig- ates, 8 corvettes, 6 cannon - boats, 3 screw steamers; (2) 6 vessels for harbor and coast service. II. chief class: school-ships and their second ships, 1 artillery school-ship, 1 con- sort, 1 torpedo and sea-mining school- ship, sailing brigs, school-ship for sailors, namely, 1 sailing corvette and 1 sailing schooner, and, finally, 1 second ship of the occasional casern ship (sailing schooner). 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The III. chief class contains 4 hulks. The training of the crewsand these The armament of the navy consists of are, on the average, schooled seamenfor Uchatius and Krupp buns, the former of service on the war ships takes place in which were made at home. the depots, which the sailors afterwards The contingent of the navy is furnished leave for the ships appointed to service. mostly by the three supply districts of For volunteer youths there is an appren- the sea-coast countries. The period of tice school-ship and a mechanical school. service is twelve yearsfour in active ser- Only the artillery and torpedo crews are vice, five in the reserve, and three in the trained on the various school-ships. The sea defence (Seewehr). The crews are corn- midshipmen are also prepared here for bined into a sailor corps, which is again their duties, while the naval academy for resolved into two depots of six companies higher scientitic instruction is at the ser- each. The peace establishment amounts vice of the officers. to 6890 men, which is increased in war to The Austro-Hungarian navy does not 13,752. The corps of sea officers, including have forei~,n stations, yet regular training the midshipmen, numbers 533 officers and voyages are made outside of the Mediter~ cadets in peace, 757 in war. ran ean Sea. A ON CREMATION. BY GEORGE HORTON. IT matters little to the winged sprite That flits and flits the clustered stars among, What fate befell the useless vesture flung So sadly earthward at the time of flight. Eyes dazzled by a sudden flood of light Cannot look into darkness; hymns are sung In vain for spirit ears, on which has rung Gods perfect music, heard at last aright. Yet for this worn-out garment seems more fit Than beak of Parsee bird, or wormy shroud, Or grinning ages in Egyptian pit, A chant of merry fire tongues singing loud, While deft flame fingers shall unravel it, And slim wind fingers weave it into cloud. TORrEDO-BOAT.

George Horton Horton, George On Cremation. A Sonnet 70-71

70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The III. chief class contains 4 hulks. The training of the crewsand these The armament of the navy consists of are, on the average, schooled seamenfor Uchatius and Krupp buns, the former of service on the war ships takes place in which were made at home. the depots, which the sailors afterwards The contingent of the navy is furnished leave for the ships appointed to service. mostly by the three supply districts of For volunteer youths there is an appren- the sea-coast countries. The period of tice school-ship and a mechanical school. service is twelve yearsfour in active ser- Only the artillery and torpedo crews are vice, five in the reserve, and three in the trained on the various school-ships. The sea defence (Seewehr). The crews are corn- midshipmen are also prepared here for bined into a sailor corps, which is again their duties, while the naval academy for resolved into two depots of six companies higher scientitic instruction is at the ser- each. The peace establishment amounts vice of the officers. to 6890 men, which is increased in war to The Austro-Hungarian navy does not 13,752. The corps of sea officers, including have forei~,n stations, yet regular training the midshipmen, numbers 533 officers and voyages are made outside of the Mediter~ cadets in peace, 757 in war. ran ean Sea. A ON CREMATION. BY GEORGE HORTON. IT matters little to the winged sprite That flits and flits the clustered stars among, What fate befell the useless vesture flung So sadly earthward at the time of flight. Eyes dazzled by a sudden flood of light Cannot look into darkness; hymns are sung In vain for spirit ears, on which has rung Gods perfect music, heard at last aright. Yet for this worn-out garment seems more fit Than beak of Parsee bird, or wormy shroud, Or grinning ages in Egyptian pit, A chant of merry fire tongues singing loud, While deft flame fingers shall unravel it, And slim wind fingers weave it into cloud. TORrEDO-BOAT. PTI BAROUETTE. BY WILLIAM McLEKNAN. DAT was de winter of de big snow. Dere was de hol Phinde Daoust an me an Xiste Broujilette was unt an trap on the ead-water of the Gatineau. We mus be near de ead of de St. Maurice too, an de honly place near was de Fort Me- tiscan, somewere on de Nort. De las camp wat we make was de wors of hall. De wedder was bad; de col was make so ard, de game hall go, an de snow was so dry de raquettes go halmos to de groun, an e fly hup an blow roun like powder. One night we was sit on de fire, an we was talk bout clear hout an strike down for de Big River, an we was hall ver glad for go. E was too far way, ddse place; de day was too short; deres no skin wats wort de bodder for take cern; an de snow come so hoften an~~ cs so light deres no good for set de traps. We ave buil good cabane, an cs no bodder for keep warm, but deres not too much for heat; an on de bad wedder, an hevery day wen c get dark, we was hall get tire for sit on dat fire an lisen to de hol Phinde tol de story. An dat was de wors of hall. Dat hol feller know hall de awful story of hall wat arrive on de worl. E tell de wors bout wat arrive on de bush; bout de fellerswen deyre hall lone; an e know hall bout de Windegos. An ~e tell dose ting hon de night-time, an Xiste an me ver hoften be so scare our pipe dey go hout; but wen cs trough we hall laugh, an~ try for fool de hodder wat we not mm dose ting wat dey tell de baby for make cern keep quit. But, bagosh! cs not de same for ear dose ting an be sit on de fire at ome wid de hol modder wat sit on er corner an de girls wat veiller, an be sit on de cam- boose fire near de cad of de Gatiucan an ear de hol feller like Pbin6c tol dose ting, an houtside deres honly tousan million trees, an de snow, an de win, an de dark. Well, dat night Phinde e jus begin for say, My poor chiln, Ill ear de story of wat arrive on de man wat was fix like hus one time, ~v~en de dog wat was sleep on de fire hf hup es cad an give one bark like de gun go hoff, an we mos jump hout our skin; den e run on de door, an e bark an owl like someting was come on de camp, an Ill grab my gun an start for de door, an Phinde an Xiste come bein. We look wat de dog was bark for, an we see deres someting wat stan straight hup on de wite snow. An Xiste c say, Bagosh, dats de man, anyow! Ere, sir! Go on de ouse, you pig ! c say on de dog. An den Ill shout, an de man don say nodding. An den Phin~e c say, Dats too small for de man, cs de woman for sure, or praps cs de An Ill say, Don! don ! Dats haw- ful for ear de hol man make some jokes like dat on de night-time, an someting hout dere on de snow wat we don know. Wathever dat was, e stan dere haIl black, an don say nodding. an we hall stan dere too, nil look an look, an de dog crawl roun bein, an make dc noise like de baby wat be scare bad. Bymby Ill go down hittl bit from de door, an Ill say, Wos dat? An Ill ear somcting was answer, an de minute Ill ear dat, Ill wonder ow Ill be so scare, an Ill run down fas, an~ w en Ill be dere, Ill fin, not de woman like Phinde say, but de littl Injun boy, not more nor fourteen, sixteen year hol, wid es gun cross es harm, an mos froze. Den Ill say, Come wid me, poor littl devil; hall friens crc, plenty fire, plenty heat ; an c don say nodding, jus come long bein like de dog. E pass on de hinside de camp like e was dere hall de time. E don say nod- ding, e don look on nobody, jus sit down on de fire, all wrap hup on es blank- et, an es gun cross es knee. An dere e sit an look on de fire, jus like wat e see someting far way hoff, an dere was no fire dere, an dere was nodding dere, jus eem an~ wat e see. Phinde put hon de tea for boil, an wen e see de littl feller was warm hup good, c say, Ere, Pti Baronette ! Dats Phinde; e halways make some jokes, an give de poor hitti feller name like e was big Injun. Baronette? Dats wat you call de weelbarrow. Well, c say: Ere, Pti Baronette! Don look too far way, helse praps you see de Winde- gos. Drink dat. An e give eem de ot tea.

William Mclennan Mclennan, William P'Ti' Barouette. A Story. 71-75

PTI BAROUETTE. BY WILLIAM McLEKNAN. DAT was de winter of de big snow. Dere was de hol Phinde Daoust an me an Xiste Broujilette was unt an trap on the ead-water of the Gatineau. We mus be near de ead of de St. Maurice too, an de honly place near was de Fort Me- tiscan, somewere on de Nort. De las camp wat we make was de wors of hall. De wedder was bad; de col was make so ard, de game hall go, an de snow was so dry de raquettes go halmos to de groun, an e fly hup an blow roun like powder. One night we was sit on de fire, an we was talk bout clear hout an strike down for de Big River, an we was hall ver glad for go. E was too far way, ddse place; de day was too short; deres no skin wats wort de bodder for take cern; an de snow come so hoften an~~ cs so light deres no good for set de traps. We ave buil good cabane, an cs no bodder for keep warm, but deres not too much for heat; an on de bad wedder, an hevery day wen c get dark, we was hall get tire for sit on dat fire an lisen to de hol Phinde tol de story. An dat was de wors of hall. Dat hol feller know hall de awful story of hall wat arrive on de worl. E tell de wors bout wat arrive on de bush; bout de fellerswen deyre hall lone; an e know hall bout de Windegos. An ~e tell dose ting hon de night-time, an Xiste an me ver hoften be so scare our pipe dey go hout; but wen cs trough we hall laugh, an~ try for fool de hodder wat we not mm dose ting wat dey tell de baby for make cern keep quit. But, bagosh! cs not de same for ear dose ting an be sit on de fire at ome wid de hol modder wat sit on er corner an de girls wat veiller, an be sit on de cam- boose fire near de cad of de Gatiucan an ear de hol feller like Pbin6c tol dose ting, an houtside deres honly tousan million trees, an de snow, an de win, an de dark. Well, dat night Phinde e jus begin for say, My poor chiln, Ill ear de story of wat arrive on de man wat was fix like hus one time, ~v~en de dog wat was sleep on de fire hf hup es cad an give one bark like de gun go hoff, an we mos jump hout our skin; den e run on de door, an e bark an owl like someting was come on de camp, an Ill grab my gun an start for de door, an Phinde an Xiste come bein. We look wat de dog was bark for, an we see deres someting wat stan straight hup on de wite snow. An Xiste c say, Bagosh, dats de man, anyow! Ere, sir! Go on de ouse, you pig ! c say on de dog. An den Ill shout, an de man don say nodding. An den Phin~e c say, Dats too small for de man, cs de woman for sure, or praps cs de An Ill say, Don! don ! Dats haw- ful for ear de hol man make some jokes like dat on de night-time, an someting hout dere on de snow wat we don know. Wathever dat was, e stan dere haIl black, an don say nodding. an we hall stan dere too, nil look an look, an de dog crawl roun bein, an make dc noise like de baby wat be scare bad. Bymby Ill go down hittl bit from de door, an Ill say, Wos dat? An Ill ear somcting was answer, an de minute Ill ear dat, Ill wonder ow Ill be so scare, an Ill run down fas, an~ w en Ill be dere, Ill fin, not de woman like Phinde say, but de littl Injun boy, not more nor fourteen, sixteen year hol, wid es gun cross es harm, an mos froze. Den Ill say, Come wid me, poor littl devil; hall friens crc, plenty fire, plenty heat ; an c don say nodding, jus come long bein like de dog. E pass on de hinside de camp like e was dere hall de time. E don say nod- ding, e don look on nobody, jus sit down on de fire, all wrap hup on es blank- et, an es gun cross es knee. An dere e sit an look on de fire, jus like wat e see someting far way hoff, an dere was no fire dere, an dere was nodding dere, jus eem an~ wat e see. Phinde put hon de tea for boil, an wen e see de littl feller was warm hup good, c say, Ere, Pti Baronette ! Dats Phinde; e halways make some jokes, an give de poor hitti feller name like e was big Injun. Baronette? Dats wat you call de weelbarrow. Well, c say: Ere, Pti Baronette! Don look too far way, helse praps you see de Winde- gos. Drink dat. An e give eem de ot tea. 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. e was watch us like de cat watch de dog. Xiste e say, Bagosh! Melchior, Ill don like de way dat boy look wid es heye; dat make de bad luck. But Phinie e say, Ah, tut, tut tut! de boys scare bad wid someting, dats hall. Go for sleep, an don mm eem. An bymby, sure nough, de boy slide down on es eels, an bymby e go for sleep on de corner, an heveryting was quit some more, only houtside de tree wat crack wid de col. On de middle of de night Ill wake hup, for es my turn for fix de fire, an Ill look hover on de boy, an Ill see cem dere sit hup on es corner wid es heye fas shut. But de minute Ill take de firs step, e jump hop like de firs time, an start for trow hup es ans, like e aye de gun, an wen e fin dats gone, e drop down on es knee, an es two ans hup over es heye, an e say sof an quick, Shoot! H JUs 51T ON THE FIRE AN H 5MOKE. shoot! Injun talk. Den bymby, after wile, e take es ans down hoff es De boy look on eem, an e was satisfy, face, an look on me ver ard aa den e an e take de tea, an e ol eem long crawl hover on es blanket, an lie down time; an bymby, after wile, e go for widout say nodding more. Bagosh, Ill sleep dere wid de gun cross e knee, an fin dat fonny! Ill not know wat for we was sit dere an look on eem, an hax tink, an so Ill fix de fire, an Ill go de hodder wat arrive on dat littl feller. back on my bunk, an Ill go for sleep Bymby Phin6e e say: Dat don make myself. nodding, hall dat talk. Ill go for bed, Well, de nex day de boy was not be so me, an de boy es tol es story to-morrow, scare. E heat wat \ve was give eem or de nex day, or de day hafter dat. but e not say nodding. An Phin6e try An den e go for get hup. But de mm- Injun talk wid eern, but dat don make ute e move, de boy jump hup wid es nodding too. An dey begin for say de heye wide hopen, an trow hup es gun boy can talk anyow. But Ill tell Phi- like e go for shoot; but Ill knock de gun n6e wat Ill ear, an e say: hup, an before e know, Phinde ave eem Dats correc. E go for tell de story safe, an e say sof an kin, like e was bymby, wen Ill hax eem. talk to de woman, Dere, dere, my poor Wen we break de camp an start for littl cabb~tge; jus you lie down, an no- de Big River, Ill make de boy do de work body don touch you ere. like de res, an de day hafter we lef e But de boy back hover on de corner, say Vla ! wen e ear me hax for de an e stan dere, an hevery time we move strap wat was bein me. An after dat PTI BAROUETTE. 73 e speak litti more, an litti more; but e was de Injun boy, an hall wat e say not make ver long string ef e was say eem hall to once. But de ting was, e can speak, an e can speak de French pretty good, too. Ill see Phin~e was watch de boy, an one night, wen we was ave de supper, e was look ver ard on de boy, wat begin for look like live Injun some more, an e say: Ill ave eom! Youre de son to de Canard Noir. Ill see you wid eem on de Spanish River, two year pas. An, bagosh! wen e say dat, de litti feller get scare, like e was de firs night, an e begin for tell de lies; but Phin~e say to heveryting wat e say: Dats not good! Dats not good! Ill know de Injun like Ill know de dog. Youre de son to de Canard Noir ! An dat night we was wake hup by de dog, an we jump on time for see Phin~e run hout on the dark, an bymby e come back, an e ave le Pti Barouette wid eem, an e say, Now you try an run way some more an Ill cut hout your eart, an Ill give eem to de Windegos for heat ! an de boy e look like e was die,e was so scare. An bymby Phin~e e say: Now dere s no good for go hon like dis way. Tell us wat de trouble was, an ow e arrive. Den we hall sit on de fire, an bymby de boy begin for speak, an e tol us ow e was de son to de Canard Noii~, an ow de hol man was sick wen dey start on deir way for make de Odson Bay, an ow de res dey go hon an lef dem. Dere was de hol man, an de modder, an eem, an de littl baby; but firs dey make dem good eabane, an lef dem plenty powder an someting for heat. An after wile de hol man not be no worse, an bymby e get some more better, an den de snow come, an dey wait for de rivers take so dey be go hup on de hice. Bymby hall dey ave lef was heat, an de col was make more ard an more ard, an hevery day dey ave to go more far on de bush for fin de game; an hall de time de game was go ]floro far too an hevery day dey was more fraid for start de voyage for de bay; for ef de game was bad dere, e was sure for be worse~.wen de go more nort. Den de storm come, an dey can go hout, an bymby honly de wolf an de snow was lef, an de Canard Noir e won go hout wen de storm was hover. E jus sit on the fire an e smoke, an don say nodding wen de littl feller fix hup for start. An dat day de boy ardly fin de trail, de snow was so dry dere was no mark, an heveryting was so change e can fin de mos deir trap; but the littl feller go hon, an go hon, an e try for foller wat trail e fin, but es no good, an w en e turn e was mos die e was so tire an ongry before e come on de cabane. E pull back de clot, an e crawl on de hinside. Dere was de fire burn hup good, an dere was do Canard Noir wat sit on de fire, but de modder was cover hup er ead wid er blanketandere was some- ting on de fire. De littl feller look firs on de Canard Noir, an den e look on de modder. Den e take es blanket an e crawl hout do cabane some more, an e make do ole on do snow an someow on do morning e was still live. An do Canard Noir come hout, an o stan dere, an e say, Do wolf stay ore, an do wolf heat an not die. An den dey bot go back on do cabane. An now do boy speak honly Injun talk. E tol us ow bymby dey was on- gry some more; ow do modder an de Canard Noir sit dere on do fire an won go hout; ow e see do modder was watch do Canard Noir, an~ ow e was fraid for go hout an lef dem dero wid demself. An ow one day e can stay dere no longer; an ow e go hout, an dere was no game; anow, wen e was come back, do Canard Noir was lone on do cabane, an, like do firs timedere was someting on do fire. Den, jus like do modder, e was watch do Canard Noir, an do Canard Noir was watch oem. On do night doy was never lie down, an of do one was move, do hodder jump hup for show e was wake. One day do Canard Noir say e go wid do boy for unt too. An dey was start hout, an do littl feller start do one way, an do Canard Noir start do hodder. But do boy not go ver far wen e look roun, an doro e see os fadder was stan dere an watch oem. Don do boy know wat o was tink, an hall do time e watcb bein jus do same like o was look on front. An bymby o was sure e see do fadder wat foller bein. An wen e see 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. es face on de snow; an de litti feller scream~ an~ scream, an den e turn an run so fas e can,widout know were e go an dat night e was come on our camp. Dat was de story e tol us dat nigh, dat, e make de start like e see de game, an e keep eemself low down on de groun, an~ e run quick, till e get hover de top of de ill, an dere e ide bein de tree an wait. An bymby e see de Canard Noir come hup, hall ben hover an~ e move sof an fas; an de iittl feller wait till e get eem clear of de tree, an jus wen de Canard see eem, e fire, an de Canard trow hup es harm an fall hover on an hall de time e was speak sof an quit, Injun way; an e was tol hall dat like e was arrive on some hodder people, an not on cern. An wen e was trough, e go hoff on es blanket an sleep like e was hall well some more. AN JU5 wEN DE CANARD 5EE REM, E FIRE. THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. 75 Well, we was talk an talk, an we hax wat was bes for do, an we don know. Phin6e, e say deres no good for ang de boy, an dey be ang eem sure ef we tol. An e was good boy, too; e work ard; e never say nodding for de col; e don talk. So wen we get down on Notre Dame du D6sert, an we fin de Pare Gendron was pass on de settlement for make es mis- sion, we tol eem, an we sen eem de boy. An de nex day wen we hax de P~re wat e tink, e jus say: Poor littl chil! Poor cliii! Den we hax eem wat e do, an e say: Do? Ill ills give eem slap on de side es ead, an tol eem for not do eem some more I An praps dat was de bes. TilE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS.* BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. IN the spring of 1887, Mr. Lowell read, at the Lowell Institute in Boston, six lectures on the Old English Dramatists. They had been rapidly written, and in their delivery much was said extemporaneously, suggested by the passages from the plays selected for illustration of the discourse. To many of these passages not even a reference was inserted in the manuscript; they were read from the printed book. The lectures were never revised by Mr. Lowell for publication, but they contain such admirable and interesting criticism, and are in themselves such genuine pieces of good literature, that it has seemed to me that they should be given to the public. CHARLES ELIOT NORTON. WHEN the rule limiting speeches to an hour was adopted by Congress, which was before most of you were born, an eminent but somewhat discursive per- son spent more than that measure of time in convincing me that whoever really had anything to say could say it in less. I then and there acquired a conviction of this truth, which has only strengthened with years. Yet whoever undertakes to lecture must adapt his discourse to the law which requires such exercises to be precisely sixty minutes long, just as a certain standard of inches must be reach- ed by one who would enter the army. If one has been studying all his life how to be terse, how to suggest rather than to expound, how to contract rather than to dilate, something like a strain is put upon the conscience by this necessi- ty of giving the full measure of words, without reference to other considerations which a judicious ear may esteem of more importance. Instead of saying things compactly and pithily, so that they may be easily carried away, one is tempted into a certain generosity and circumam- bience of phrase, which, if not adapted to conquer Time, may at least compel him to turn his glass and admit a drawn game. It is so much harder to fill an hour than to empty one! These thoughts rose before me with pain- ful vividness as I fancied myself standing here again, after an interval of thirty- two years, to address an audience at the Lowell Institute. Then I lectured, not without some favorable acceptance, on Poetry in general and what constituted it, on Imagination and Fancy, on Wit and Humor, on Metrical Romances, on Ballads, and I know not what elseon whatever I thought I had anything to say about, I suppose. Then I was at the period in life when thoughts rose in cov- eys, and one filled ones bag without considering too nicely whether the game had been hatched within his neighbors fence or within his owna period of life when it doesnt seem as if everything had been said; when a man overestimates the value of what specially interests himself, and insists with Don Quixote that all the world shall stop till the superior charms of his Dulcinen of the moment have been acknowledged; when he conceives him- self a missionary, and is persuaded that he is saving his fellows from the perdition of their souls if he convert them from belief in some resthetic heresy. That is the mood of mind in which one may read lectures with some assurance of success. I remember how I read mine over to the clock, that I might be sure I had enough, and how patiently the clock listened, and gave no opinion except as to duration, on which point it assured me that I always ran over. This is the pleasant peril of en- * copyright, 1892, by charles Eliot Norton. VOL. LXXXV.No. 5058

James Russell Lowell Lowell, James Russell The Old English Dramatists. 75-84

THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. 75 Well, we was talk an talk, an we hax wat was bes for do, an we don know. Phin6e, e say deres no good for ang de boy, an dey be ang eem sure ef we tol. An e was good boy, too; e work ard; e never say nodding for de col; e don talk. So wen we get down on Notre Dame du D6sert, an we fin de Pare Gendron was pass on de settlement for make es mis- sion, we tol eem, an we sen eem de boy. An de nex day wen we hax de P~re wat e tink, e jus say: Poor littl chil! Poor cliii! Den we hax eem wat e do, an e say: Do? Ill ills give eem slap on de side es ead, an tol eem for not do eem some more I An praps dat was de bes. TilE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS.* BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. IN the spring of 1887, Mr. Lowell read, at the Lowell Institute in Boston, six lectures on the Old English Dramatists. They had been rapidly written, and in their delivery much was said extemporaneously, suggested by the passages from the plays selected for illustration of the discourse. To many of these passages not even a reference was inserted in the manuscript; they were read from the printed book. The lectures were never revised by Mr. Lowell for publication, but they contain such admirable and interesting criticism, and are in themselves such genuine pieces of good literature, that it has seemed to me that they should be given to the public. CHARLES ELIOT NORTON. WHEN the rule limiting speeches to an hour was adopted by Congress, which was before most of you were born, an eminent but somewhat discursive per- son spent more than that measure of time in convincing me that whoever really had anything to say could say it in less. I then and there acquired a conviction of this truth, which has only strengthened with years. Yet whoever undertakes to lecture must adapt his discourse to the law which requires such exercises to be precisely sixty minutes long, just as a certain standard of inches must be reach- ed by one who would enter the army. If one has been studying all his life how to be terse, how to suggest rather than to expound, how to contract rather than to dilate, something like a strain is put upon the conscience by this necessi- ty of giving the full measure of words, without reference to other considerations which a judicious ear may esteem of more importance. Instead of saying things compactly and pithily, so that they may be easily carried away, one is tempted into a certain generosity and circumam- bience of phrase, which, if not adapted to conquer Time, may at least compel him to turn his glass and admit a drawn game. It is so much harder to fill an hour than to empty one! These thoughts rose before me with pain- ful vividness as I fancied myself standing here again, after an interval of thirty- two years, to address an audience at the Lowell Institute. Then I lectured, not without some favorable acceptance, on Poetry in general and what constituted it, on Imagination and Fancy, on Wit and Humor, on Metrical Romances, on Ballads, and I know not what elseon whatever I thought I had anything to say about, I suppose. Then I was at the period in life when thoughts rose in cov- eys, and one filled ones bag without considering too nicely whether the game had been hatched within his neighbors fence or within his owna period of life when it doesnt seem as if everything had been said; when a man overestimates the value of what specially interests himself, and insists with Don Quixote that all the world shall stop till the superior charms of his Dulcinen of the moment have been acknowledged; when he conceives him- self a missionary, and is persuaded that he is saving his fellows from the perdition of their souls if he convert them from belief in some resthetic heresy. That is the mood of mind in which one may read lectures with some assurance of success. I remember how I read mine over to the clock, that I might be sure I had enough, and how patiently the clock listened, and gave no opinion except as to duration, on which point it assured me that I always ran over. This is the pleasant peril of en- * copyright, 1892, by charles Eliot Norton. VOL. LXXXV.No. 5058 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. thusiasm, which has always something of the careless superfluity of youth. Since then, and for a period making a sixth part of my mature life, my mind has been shunted off upon the track of other duties and other interests. If I have learned something, I have also forgotten a good deal. One is apt to forget so much in the service of ones countryeven that he is an American, I have been told, though I can hardly believe it. When I selected my topic for this new venture, I was returning to a first love. The second volume I ever printed, in 1843, I think it wasit is now a rare book, I am not sorry to know; I have not seen it for many yearswas mainly about the Old English Dramatists, if I am not mistaken. I dare say it was crude enough, but it was spontaneous and hon- est. I have continued to read them ever since, with no less pleasure, if with more discrimination. But when I was con- fronted with the question what I could say of them that would interest any ra- tional person, after all that had been said by Lamb, the most sympathetic of critics, by Hazlitt, one of the most penetrative, by Coleridge, the most intuitive, and by so many others, I was inclined to believe that instead of an easy subject, I had chosen a subject very far from easy. But I sustained myself with the words of the great poet who so often has saved me from myself: Vagliami ii lungo studio e ii grande amore Che mha fatto cercar lo tuo volume. If I bring no other qualification, I bring at least that of hearty affection, which is the first condition of insight. I shall not scruple to repeat .what may seem already too familiar, confident that these old poets will stand as much talk- ing about as most people. At the risk of being tedious, I shall put you back to your scales as a teacher of music does his pupils. For it is the business of a lec- turer to treat his audience as M. Jour- dam wished to be treated in respect of the Latin languageto take it for grant- ed that they know, but to talk to them as if they didnt. I should have preferred to entitle my course Readings from the Old English Dramatists with illustrative comments, rather than a critical discus- sion of them, for there is more conviction in what is beautiful in itself than in any amount of explanation why, or exposi tion of how, it is beautiful. A rose has a very succinct way of explaining itself. When I find nothing profitable to say, I shall take sanctuary in my authors. It is generally assumed that the Mod- ern Drama in France, Spain, Italy, and England was an evolution out of the Mysteries and Moralities and Interludes which had edified and amused preceding generations of simpler taste and ruder intelligence. Tis the old story of Thes- pis and his cart. Taken with due lim- itations, and substituting the word stage for drama, this theory of origin is satis- factory enough. The stage was there, and the desire to be amused, when the drama at last appeared to occupy the one and to satisfy the other. It seems to have been, so far as the English Drama is concerned, a case of post hoc, without altogether adequate grounds for inferring a propter hoc. The Interludes may have served as training-schools for actors. It is certain that Richard Burbage, after- wards of Shakespeares company, was so trained. He is the actor, you will re- member, who first played the part of Hamlet, and the untimely expansion of whose person is supposed to account for the Queens speech in the fencing scene, Hes fat and scant of breath. I may say, in passing, that the phrase merely means Hes out of training, as we should say now. A fat Hamlet is as in- conceivable as a lean Falstaff. Shake- speare, with his usual discretion, never makes the Queen hateful, and math, use of this expedient to show her solicitude for her son. Her last word, as she is dying, is his name. To return. The Interlude may have kept alive the traditions of a stage, and may have made ready a certain number of persons to assume higher and graver parts when the opportunity should come; but the revival of learning, and the rise of cities capable of supplying ~iore cul- tivated and exacting audience, must have had a stronger and more direct influence on the growth of the Drama, as we under- stand the word, than any or all other in- fluences combined. Certainly this seems to me true of the English Drama at least. The English Miracle Plays are dull be- yond what is permitted even by the most hardened charity, and there is nothing dramatic in them except that they are in the form of dialogue. The Interludes are perhaps further saddened in the read- THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. 77 ing by reminding us how much easier it was to be amused three hundred years ago than now, but their wit is the wit of the Eoceue period, unhappily as long as it is broad, and their humor is horse- play. We inherited a vast accumulation of barbarism from our Teutonic ances- tors. It was only on those terms, per- haps, that we could have their vigor too. The Interludes have some small value as illustrating manners and forms of speech, but the man must be born expressly for the purpQseas for some of Vlie adven- tures of medkeval knight - errantry who can read them. Gammer Gurtons Needle is perhaps as good as any. It was acted at Christs College, Cambridge, in 1566, and is remarkable, as Mr. Collier pointed out, as the first existing play act- ed before either university. Its author was John Still, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells, and it is curious that when Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge he should have protested -against the acting before the university of an English play so un- befitting its learning, dignity, and char- acter. Gammer Gurtons Needle con- tains a very jolly and spirited song in praise of ale. Latin plays were acted before the universities on great occasions, but there was nothing dramatic about them but their form. One of them by Burton, author of the Anatomy of Mel- ancholy, has been printed, and is not without merit. In the Pardoner and the Fr~ire there is a hint at the drollery of those cross-readings with which Bon- nel Thornton made our grandfathers laugh: Pard. Pope July the Sixth hath granted fair and well- Fr. That when to them God hath abundance sent Pard. And doth twelve thousand years of pardon to them send h. They would distribute none to the mdi. gent Parc?. That aught to this holy chapel lend. Everything in these old farces is rudi- mentary. They are not merely coarse; they are vulgar. In France it was better, but France had something which may fairly be called literature before any other couri- try in Europe, not literature in the high- est sense, of course,ut something, at any rate, that may be still read with pleasure for its delicate beauty, like Aucassin and Nicolete, or for its downright vigor, like the Song of Roland, or for its genuine humor, like Renard the Fox. There is even one French Miracle Play of the thir- teenth century by the Trouv~re Rutebeuf based on the legend of Theophilus of An- tioch, which might he said to contain the germ of Calderons El Magico Prodigioso, and thus remotely of Goethes Faust. Of the next century is the farce of Pathe- lin, which has given a new word with its several derivatives to the French lan- guage, and a proverbial phrase, revenons ~t nos moutons, that long ago domiciled itself beyond the boundaries of France. Pathelin rises at times above the level of farce, though hardly to the region of pure comedy. I saw it acted at the Th& ~tre Fraii~ais many years ago, with only so much modernization of language as was necessary to make it easily compre- hensible, and found it far more than ar- .cha~ologicaLly entertaining. Surely none of our old English Interludes could be put upon the stage now without the gloomiest results. They were not, in my judgment, the direct, and hardly even the collateral, ancestors of our legitimate comedy. On the other hand, while the Miracle Plays left no traces of themselves in our serious drama, the play of Punch and Judy looks very like an impoverish- ed descendant of theirs. In Spain it was otherwise. There the old Moralities and Mysteries of the Church Festivals are renewed and perpetuated in the Autos Sacramentales of Calderon, but ensouled with the creative breath of his genius, and having a strange phantasmal reality in the ideal world of his wonder- working imagination. One of his plays, La Devocion de la Cruz, an Auto in spirit if not in form, dramatizes, as only he could do it, the doctrine of justifica- tion by faith. In Spain, too, the comedy of the booth and the plaza is plainly the rude sketch of the higher creations of Tirso and Lope and Calderon and Roj~s and Alarcon, and scores of others only less than they. The tragicomedy of Celes- tina, written at the close of the fifteenth century, is the first modern piece of re- alism or naturalism, as it is called, with which I am acquainted. It is coarse, and most of the characters are low, but there are touches of nature in it, and the char- acter of Celestina is brought out with singular vivacity. The word tragicom- edy is many years older than this play, if play that may be called which is but a 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. succession of dialogues. but I can think of no earlier example of its application to a production in dramatic form than by the Bachelor Fernando de Rojas in this instance. It was made over into English, rather than translated, in 1520our first literary debt to Spain, I should guess. The Spanish theatre, though the influence of Seneca is apparent in the form it put on, is more sincerely a growth of the soil than any other of modern times, and it has one interesting analogy with our own in the introduction of the down into tragedy, whether by way of foil or par- ody. The Spanish dramatists have been called marvels of fecundity, but the fa- cility of their trochaic measure, in which the verses seem to go of themselves, makes their feats less wonderful. The marvel would seem to be rather that, writing so easily, they also wrote so well. Their invention is as remarkable as their abundance. Their drama and our own have affected the spirit and sometimes the substance of later literature more than any other. They have to a certain extent impregnated it. I have called the Spanish theatre a product of the soil, yet it must not be overlooked that Sophocles, Euripides, Plautus, and Terence had been translated into Spanish early in the six- teenth century, and that Lope de Rueda, its real founder, would willingly have followed classical models more closely had the public taste justified him in do- ing so. But fortunately the national gen- ius triumphed over traditional criterions of art, and the Spanish theatre, asserting its own happier instincts, became and continued Spanish, with an unspeakable charm and flavor of its own. One peculiarity of the Spanish plays makes it safe to recommend them even virginibus puerisque they are never unclean. Even Milton would have ap- proved a censo~ship of the press that ac- complished this. It is a remarkable ex- ample of how sharp the contradiction is between the private morals of a people and their public code of morality. Cer- tain things may be done, but they must not seem to be done. I have said nothing of the earlier Ital- ian Drama because it has failed to inter- est me. But Italy had indirectly a po- tent influence, through Spenser, in sup- plying English verse till it could answer the higher uses of the stage. The lines for they can hardly be called verses of the first attempts at regular plays are as uniform, flat, and void of variety as laths cut by machinery, and show only the arithmetical ability of their fashioners to count as high as ten. A speech is a series of such laths laid parallel to each other with scrupulous exactness. But I shall have occasion to return to this topic in speaking of Marlowe. Who, then, were the Old English Dram- atists? They were a score or so of lit- erary bohemians, for the most part, liv- ing from hand to mouth in London dur- ing the last twenty years of the sixteenth century and the firsi thirty years of the seventeenth, of the personal history of most of whom we fortunately know little, and who, by their good luck in being born into an unsophisticated age, have writ- ten a few things so well that they seem to have written themselves. Poor, nearly all of them, they have left us a fine estate in the realm of Faery. Among them were three or four mew. of genius. A. comrade of theirs by his calling, but set apart from them alike by the splendor of his endowments and the more equable balance of his temperament, was that divine apparition known to mortals as Shakespeare. The civil war put an end to their activity. The last of them, in the direct line, was James Shirley, re- membered chiefly for two lines from the last stanza of a song of his in The Con- tention of Ajax and Ulysses, which have become a proverb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. It is a nobly simple piece of verse, with the slow and solemn cadence of a funer- al march. The hint of it seems to have been taken from a passage in that dron- ingly dreary book the Mirror for Magis- trates. This little poem is one of the best instances of the good fortune of the men of that age in the unconscious sim- plicity and gladness (I know not what else to call it) of their vocabulary. The language, so to speak, had just learned to go alone, and found a joy in its own mere motion, which it lost as it grew older, and to walk was no longer a marvel. Nothing in the history of literature seems more startling than the sudden spring with which English poetry blos- somed in the later years of Elizabeths reign. We may account for the seem- ingly unheralded apparition of a single THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. 79 genius like Dante or Chaucer by the gen- ius itself; for, given that, everything else is possible. But even in such cases as these much must have gone before to make the genius available when it came. For the production of great literature there must be already a language ductile to all the varying moods of expression. There must he a certain amount of cult- ure, or the stimulus of sympathy would be wanting. If, as Horace tells us, the heroes who lived before Agamemnon have perished for want of a poet to cele- brate them, so doubtless many poets have gone dumb to their graves, or, at any rate, have uttered themselves imperfectly, for lack of a fitting vehicle or of an amiable atmosphere. Genius, to be sure, makes its own opportunity, but the circum- stances must be there out of which it can be made. For instance, I cannot help feeling that Turold, or whoever was the author of the Chanson de Roland, was endowed with a rare epical faculty, and that he would have given more emphat- ic proof of it had it been possible for him to clothe his thought in a form equivalent to the vigor of his conception. Perhaps with more art, he might have had less of that happy audacity of the first leap which Montaigne valued so highly, but would he not have gained could he have spoken to us in a verse as sonorous as the Greek hexameter, nay, even as sweet in its cadences, as various- ly voluble by its slurs and elisions, and withal as sharply edged and clean cut as the Italian pentameter? It is at least a question open to debate. Mr. Matthew Arnold taxes the Song of Roland with an entire want of the grand style; and this is true enough; but it has immense stores of courage and victory in it, as Taillefer proved at the battle of Hastings yes, and touches of heroic pathos, too. Many things had slowly and silently concurred to make that singular pre-em- inence of the Elizabethan literature pos- sible. First of all was the growth of a national consciousness, made aware of itself and more cumulatively operative by the existence and safer accessibility of a national capital, to serve it both as head and heart. The want of such a focus of intellectual, political, and material activ- ity has had more to do with the back- wardness and provincialism of our own literature than is generally taken into account. My friend Mr. Hosea Biglow ventured to affirm twenty odd years ago that we had at last arrived at this nation- al consciousness through the convulsion of our civil wara convulsion so violent as might well convince the members that they formed part of a common body. But I make bold to doubt whether that con- sciousness will ever be more than fitful and imperfect, whether it will ever, ex- cept in some moment of supreme crisis, pour itself into and re-enforce the indi- vidual consciousness in a way to make our literature feel itself of age and its own master till we shall have got a com- mon head as well as a common body. It is not the size of a city that gives it this stimulating and expandin~, quality, but the fact that it sums up in itself and gathers all the moral and intellectual forces of the country in a single focus. London is still the metropolis of the Brit- ish as Paris of the French race. We admit this readily enough as regards Aus- tralia or Canada, but we willingly over- look it as regards ourselves. Washing- ton is growing more national and more habitable every year, but it will never be a capital till every kind of culture is at- tainable there on as good terms as else- where. Why not on better than else- where? We are rich enough. Bismarcks first care has been the Museums of Ber- lin. For a fiftieth part of the money Con- gress seems willing to waste in demoral- izing the country, we might have had the Hamilton books and the far more precious Ashburnham manuscripts. Per- haps what formerly gave Boston its ad- mitted literary supremacy was the fact that fifty years ago it was more truly a capital than any other American city. Edinburgh once held a similar position, with similar results. And yet how nar- row Boston was! How scant a pasture it offered to the imagination! I have often mused on the dreary fate of the great painter who perished slowly of inanition over yonder in Cambridgeport, he who had known Coleridge and Lamb and Wordsworth, and who, if ever any, With immortal wine Should have been bathed and swum in more hearts ease Than there are waters in the Sestian seas. The pity of it! That unfinished Belshaz- zar of his was a bitter sarcasm on our self- conceit. Among us, it was unfinishable. Whatever place can draw together the 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. greatest amount and greatest variety of intellect and character, the most abun- dant elements of civilization, performs the best function of a university. Lon- don was such a centre in the days of Queen Elizabeth. And think what a school the Mermaid Tavern must have been! The verses which Beaumont addressed to Ben Jonson from the country point to this: What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Bad meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life; then when there bath been thrown Wit able enough to justify the town For three days past, wit that might warrant be For the whole city to talk foolishly Till that were cancelled; and, when that was gone, We left an air behind us which alone Was able to make the two next companies Right witty; though but downright fools, more wise. This air, which Beaumont says they left behind them, they carried with them, too. It was the atmosphere of culture, the open air of it, which loses much of its bracing and stimulating virtue in soli- tude and the silent society of books. And what discussions can we not fancy there, of language, of diction, of style, of an- cients and moderns, of grammar even, for our speech was still at school, and with license of vagrant truancy for the gathering of wild flowers and the find- ing of whole nests full of singing birds! Here was indeed a new World of Words, as Florio called his dictionary. And the face-to-face criticism, frank, friendly, and with chance of reply, how fruitful it must have been! It was here, doubtless, that Jonson found fault with that verse of Shakespeares, authors of that day had was the freshness of the language, which had not then be- come literary, and therefore more or less commonplace. All the words they used were bright from the die, not yet worn smooth in the daily drudgery of prosaic service. I am not sure whether they were so fully conscious of this as we are, who find a surprising charm in it, and perhaps endow the poet with the witchery that really belongs to the vocables he employs. The parts of speech -of these old poets are just archaic enough to please us with that familiar strangeness which makes our own tongue agreeable if spo- ken with a hardly perceptible foreign ac- cent. The power of giving novelty to things outworn is, indeed, one of the prime qualities of genius, and this novel- ty the habitual phrase of the Elizabeth- ans has for us without any merit of theirs. But I think, making all due abatements, that they had the hermetic gift of buck- ling wings to the feet of their verse in a measure which has fallen to the share of few or no modern poets. I think some of them certainly were fully aware of the fine qualities of their mother - tongue. Chapman, in the poem To the Reader, prefixed to his translation of the Iliad, protests against those who preferred to it the softer Romance languages: And for our tongue that still is so impaired By. travailing linguists, I can prove it clear, That no tongue hath the Muses utterance heired For verse and that sweet Music to the ear Strook out of rime, so naturally as this; Our monosyllables so kindly fall, And meet, opposed in rhyme, as they did kiss. I think Chapman has very prettily main- tained and illustrated his thesis. But, though fortunate in being able to gather their language with the dew still on it, as herbs must be gathered for use in certain C~sar did never wrong but with just cause, incantations, we are not to suppose that our elders used it indiscriminately, or which is no longer to be found in the tumbled out their words as they would play of Julius Ocesar. Perhaps Heminge dice, trusting that luck or chance would and Condell left it out, for Shakespeare send them a happy throw; that they did could have justified himself with the not select, arrange, combine, and make hook-nosed fellow of Romes favorite use of the most cunning artifices of mod- Greek quotation, that nothing justified ulation and rhythm. They debated all crime but the winning or keeping of sa- these questions, we may be sure, not only preme power. Never could London, be- with a laudable desire of excellence, and fore or since, gather such an academy of with a hope to make their native tongue genius. It must have been a marvellous as fitting a vehicle for poetry and elo- whetstone of the wits, and spur to gener- quence as those of their neighbors, or as ous emulation. those of Greece and Rome, but also with Another great advantage which the something of the eager joy of adventure THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. 81 and discovery. They must have felt with Lucretius the delight of wandering over the pathless places of the Muse, and hence, perhaps, it is that their step is so elastic, and that we are never dispirited by a consciousness of any lassitude when they put forth their best pace. If they are natural, it is in great part the bene- fit of the age they lived in, but the win- ning graces, the picturesque felicities, the electric flashes, I had almost said the ex- plosions, of their style are their own. And their diction mingles its elements so kindly and with such gracious reliefs of changing key, flow dallying with the very childishness of speech like the spin- sters and the knitters in the sun, and anon snatched up without effort to the rapt phrase of passion or of tragedy that flashes and reverberates! The dullest of them, for I admit that many of them were dull as a comedy of Goethe, and dulness loses none of its disheartening properties by age, no, nor even by being embalmed in the precious gems and spices of Lambs affectionate eulogyfor I am persuaded that I should know a stupid mummy from a clever one before I had been in his company five minutesthe dullest of them, I say, has his lucid intervals. There are, I grant, dreary wastes and vast solitudes in such collections as Dodsleys Old Plays, where we slump along through the loose sand without even so much as a mirage to comfort us under the intolerable drought of our companions discourse. Nay, even some of the dramatists who have been thought worthy of editions all to them- selves, may enjoy that seclusion without fear of its being disturbed by me. Let me mention a name or two of such as I shall not speak of in this course. Robert Greene. is one of them. He has all the inadequacy of imperfectly drawn tea. I thank him, indeed, for the word brightsomne, and for two lines of Se- phestias song to her child, Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old, theres grief enough for thee, which have all the innocence of the Old Age in them. Otherwise he is naught. I say this for the benefit of the young, for in my own callow days I took him se- riously because the Rev. Alexander Dyce had edited him, and I endured much in trying to reconcile my instincts with my superstition. He it was that called Shake- speare an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, as if any one could have any use for feathers from such birds as he, except to make pens of them. He was the cause of the dulness that was in oth- er men, too, and human nature feels itself partially avenged by this stanza of an el- egy upon him by one R. B., quoted by Mr. Dyce: Greene is the pleasing object of an eye; Greene pleased the eyes of all that looked upon him; Greene is the ground of every painters dye; Greene gave the ground to all that wrote upon him~ Nay, more, the men that so eclipsed his fame Purloyned his plumes; can they deny the same? Even the libeller of Shakespeare de- served nothing worse than this! If this is R. B. when he was playing upon words, what must he have been when serious? Another dramatist whom we can get on very well without is George Peele, the friend and fellow-roisterer of Greene. He, too, defied the inspiring influence of the air he breathed almost as successfully as his friend. But he had not that genius for being dull all the time that Greene had, and illustrates what I was just say- ing of the manne.r in which the most tire- some of these men waylay us when we least expect it with some phrase or verse that shines and trembles in the memory like a star. Such are: For her Ill build a kingly bower Seated in hearing of a hundred streams; and this, of Gods avenging lightning, At him the thunder shall discharge his bolt, And his fair spouse, with bright and fiery wings, Sit ever burning in his hateful bones. He also wrote some musically simple stanzas, of which I quote the first two, the rather that Thackeray was fond of them: My golden locks Time bath to silver turned (0 Time too swift, and swiftness never ceasing), My youth galost age, and age at youth bath spurned, But spurned in vain; youth waneth by in- creasing. Beauty, strength, and youth, flowers fading been; Duty, faith, and love, are roots, and ever green. My helmet now shall make an hive for bees, And lovers songs shall turn to holy psalms; A man-at-arms nmst now sit on his knees, And feed on prayers, that are old ages alms. And so from court to cottage I depart, My saint is sure of mine unspotted heart. There is a pensiveness in this, half pleas- 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. urable, half melancholy, that has a charm of its own. Thomas Dekker is a far more impor- tant person. Most of his works seeni to have been what artists call pot-boilers, wiitten at ruinous speed, and with the bailiff rather than the Muse at his elbow. There was a liberal background of prose in him, as in Ben Jonson, but he was a poet and no mean one, as he showsby the careless good luck of his epithets and similes. He could rise also to a grave dignity of style that is grateful to the ear, nor was he incapable of that heightened emotion which might almost pass for pas- sion. His fancy kindles welinigh to imagination at times, and ventures on those extravagances which entice the fancy of the reader as with the music of an invitation to the waltz. I had him in my mind when I was speaking of the obiter dicta, of the fine verses dropt cas- ually by these men when you are begin- ning to think they have no poetry in them. Fortune tells Fortunatus, in the play of that name, that he shall have gold as countless as Those gilded wantons that in swarms do run To warm their slender 6odies in the sun, thus giving him a hint also of its ephem- eral nature. Here is a verse, too, that shows a kind of bleakish sympathy of sound and sense. Long life, he tells us, Is a long journey in December gone. It may be merely my fancy, but I seem to hear a melancholy echo in it, as of footfalls on frozen earth.. Or take this for a pretty fancy: The moon hath through her bow scarce drawn to the head, Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months Since when do you suppose? I give you three guesses, as the children say. Since 1600! Poor Fancy shudders at this opening of Haydns Dictionary of Dates, and thinks her silver arrows a little out of place, like a belated masquerader going home under the broad grin of day. But the verses themselves seem plucked from Midsummer Nights Dream. This is as good an instance as may be of the want of taste, sense of congruity, and of the delicate discrimination that makes style, which strike and sometimes even shock us in the Old Dramatists. This was a disadvantage of the age into which they were born, and is perhaps implied in the very advantages it gave them, and of which I have spoken. Even Shakespeare offends sometimes in this way. Good taste, if mainly a gift of na- ture, is also an acquisition. It was not impossible even then. Samuel Daniel had it, but the cautious propriety with which it embarrassed him has made his drama of Cleopatra unapproachable, in more senses than one, in its frigid regu- larity. His contemplative poetry, thanks to its grave sweetness of style, is among the best in our language. Yet Daniel wrote the following sentences, which ex- plain better than anything I could say why his contemporaries, in spite of their manifest imperfections, pleased then and continue to please: Suffer the world to enjoy that which it knows and what it likes, seeing whatsoever form of words doth move delight, and sway the affec- tions of men, in what Scythian sort so- ever it be disposed and uttered, that is true number, measure, eloquence, and the perfection of speech. Those men did move delight, and sway the affections of men, in a very singular manner, gain- ing, on the whole, perhaps, more by their liberty than they lost by their license. But it is only genius that can safely profit by this immunity. Form, of which we hear so much, is of great value, but it is not of the highest value, except in com- bination with other qualities better than itself, and it is worth noting that the mod- em English poet who seems least to have regarded it, is also the one who has most powerfully moved, swayed, and delighted those who are wise enough to read him. One more passage and I have done. It is from the same play of Old Fortu- natus, a favorite of mine. The Soldan of Babylon shows Fortunatus his trea- sury, or cabinet of bric-h-brac: Behold yon tower, there stands mine armoury, In which are corselets forged of beaten gold To arm ten hundred thousand fighting men, Whose glittering squadrons when the sun be- holds, They seem like to ten hundred thousand Joves, When Jove on the proud back of thunder rides, Trapped all in lightning-flames. There can I show thee The ball of gold that set all Troy on fire; There shalt thou see the scarf of Cupids mother, Snatcht from the soft moist ivory of her arm To wrap about Adonis wounded thigh; There shalt thou see a wheel of Titans car Which dropt from Heaven when Ph~ton fired the world. THE OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. 83 Ill give thee (if thou wilt) two silver doves Composed by magic to divide the air, Who, as they flue, shall clap their silver wings And give strange music to the elements. Ill give thee else the fan of Proserpine, Which, in reward for a sweet Thracian song, The blackbrowd Empress threw to Orpheus, Being come to fetch Eurydice from hell. This is, here and there, tremblingly near bombast,but its exuberance is cheery, and the quaintness of Proserpines fan shows how real she was to the poet. Hers was a generous gift, considering the cli- mate in which Dekker evidently supposed her to dwell, and speaks well for the song that could make her forget it. There is crudeness, as if the wine had been drawn before the ferment was over, but the arm of Venus is from the life, and that one verse gleams and glows among the rest like the thing it describes. The whole passage is a good example of fancy, whim- sical, irresponsible. But there is more imagination and power to move the imagination in Shakespeares sunken wreck and sunless treasures than all his contemporaries together, not even except- ing Marlowe, could have mustered. We lump all these poets together as dramatists because they wrote for the theatre, and yet how little they were truly dramatic seems proved by the fact that none, or next to none, of their plays have held the stage. Not one of their cliarac- ters, that I can remember, has become one of the familiar figures that make up the habitual society of any cultivated mem- ory even of the same race and tongue. Marlowe, great as he was, makes no ex- ception. To some of them we cannot deny genius, but creative genius we must deny to all of them, and dramatic genius as well. This last, indeed, is one of the rarest gifts bestowed on man. What is that which we call dramatic? In the abstract, it is thought or emotion in action, or on its way to become action. In the con- crete, it is that which is more vivid if represented than described, and which would lose if merely narrated. Goethe, for example, had little dramatic power; though, if taking thought could have earned it, he would have had enough, for he studied the actual stage all his life. The characters in his plays seem there rather to express his thoughts than their own. Yet there is one admirably dra- matic scene in Faust which illustrates what I have been saying. I mean Mar- garet in the cathedral, suggested to Goethe by the temptation of Justina in Calde- ron s Magico Prodigioso, but full of hor- ror as that of seductiveness. We see and hear as we read. Her own bad conscience projected in the fiend who mutters de- spair into her ear, and the awful peals of the Dies Irie, that most terribly reso- nant of Latin hymns, as if blown from the very trump of doom itself, coming in at intervals to remind her that the Tuba mirum spargens sonum Per sepulchra regionum Coget omnes ante thronum, herself among the restall of this would be weaker in narration. This is real, and needs realization by the senses to be fully felt. Compare it with Dimmesdale mounting the pillory at night, in The Scarlet Letter, to my thinking the deep- est thrust of what may be called the met- aphysical imagination since Shakespeare. There we need only a statement of the factspictorial statement, of course, as Hawthornes could not fail to beand the effect is complete. Thoroughly to un- derstand a good play and enjoy it, even in the reading, the imagination must body forth its personages, and see them doing or suffering in the visionary theatre of the brain. There, indeed, they are best seen, and Hamlet or Lear loses that ideal quality which makes him typical and universal if he be once compressed with- in the limits, or associated with the linen- ments, of any, even the best, actor. It is for their poetical qualities, for their gleams of imagination, for their quaint and subtle fancies, for their ten- der sentiment, and for their charm of diction that these old playwrights are worth reading. They are the best com- ment also to convince us of the immea- surable superiority of Shakespeare. Sev- eral of them, moreover, have been very inadequately edited, or not at all, which is perhaps better, and it is no useless dis- cipline of the wits, no unworthy exercise of the mind, to do our own editing as we go along, winning back to its cradle the right word for the changeling the printers have left in his stead, making the lame verses find their feet again, and rescuing those that have been tumbled higgledy- piggledy into a mire of prose. A strenu- ous study of this kind will enable us bet- ter to understand many a faulty passage voL. LXxxV.No. 5059 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in our Shakespeare, and to judge of the proposed emendations of them, or to make one to our own liking. There is no better school for learning English, and for learning it when, in many impor- tant respects, it was at its best. I am not sure that I shall not seem to talk to you of many things that seem trivialities if weighed in the huge busi- ness scales of life, but I am always glad to say a word in behalf of what most men consider useless, and to say it the rather because it has so few friends. I have observed, and ani sorry to have ob- served, that English poetry, at least in its older examples, is less read now than when I was young. I do not believe this to be a healthy symptom, for poetry frequents and keeps habitable those up- per chambers of the mind that open tow- ards the suns rising. It has seemed to me that life was running more and more into prose. Even our books for children have been growing more and more prac- tical and realistic. The fairies are no longer permitted to print their rings on the tender sward of the childs fancy, and yet it is the childs fancy that some- times lives obscurely on to minister un- expected solace to the lonelier and less sociable mind of the man. Our nature resents this, and seeks refuge in the holes and corners where coarser excitements may be had at dearer rates. I sometimes find myself thinking that if this harden- ing process should go much farther. it is before us, and not behind, that we should look for the Age of Flint. DECORATION DAY. BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT. I. A WEEK before the 30th of May, three friendsJohn Stover and Hen- ry Merrill and Asa Brown-happened to meet on Saturday evening at Bartons store at the Plains. They were enjoying this idle hour after a busy week. After long easterly rains, the sun had at last come out bright and clear, and all the Barlow farmers had been planting. There was even a good deal of ploughing left to be done, the season was so backward. The three middle-aged men were old friends. They had been school - fellows, and when they were hardly out of their boyhood the war came on, and they en- listed in the same company, on the same day, and happened to march away elbow to elbow. Then came the great experience of a great war, and the years that followed their return from the South had come to each almost alike. They might have been members of the same rustic household, they knew each others history so well. They were sitting on a low wooden bench at the left of the store door as you went in. People were coming and going on their Saturday night errands the post-office was in Bartons storebut the friends talked on eagerly, without inter- rupting themselves, except by an occa- sional nod of recognition. They appeared to take no notice at all of the neighbors whom they saw oftenest. It was a most beautiful evening; the two great elms were almost half in leaf over the black- smith shop which stood across the wide road. Farther along were two small old- fashioned houses and the old white church, with its pretty belfry of four arched sides and a tiny dome at the top. The large cockerel on the vane was pointing a little south of west, and there was still light enough to make it shine bravely against the deep blue eastern sky. On the western side of the road, near the store, were the parsonage and the storekeepers modern house, which had a French roof and some attempt at decora- tion, which the long-established Barlow people called gingerbread-work, and re- garded with mingled pride and disdain. These buildings made the tiny village called Barlow Plains. They stood in the middle of a long narrow strip of level ground. They were islanded by green fields and pastures. There were hills be- yond; the mountains themselves seemed very near. Scattered about on the hill slopes were farm-houses, which stood so far apart, with their clusters of out-build- ings, that each looked lonely, and the pine woods above seemed to besiege them dli. It was lighter on the uplands than it was in the valley where the three men sat on their bench, with their backs to the store and the western sky. Well, here we be most into June, an

Sarah Orne Jewett Jewett, Sarah Orne Decoration Day. A Story 84-90

84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in our Shakespeare, and to judge of the proposed emendations of them, or to make one to our own liking. There is no better school for learning English, and for learning it when, in many impor- tant respects, it was at its best. I am not sure that I shall not seem to talk to you of many things that seem trivialities if weighed in the huge busi- ness scales of life, but I am always glad to say a word in behalf of what most men consider useless, and to say it the rather because it has so few friends. I have observed, and ani sorry to have ob- served, that English poetry, at least in its older examples, is less read now than when I was young. I do not believe this to be a healthy symptom, for poetry frequents and keeps habitable those up- per chambers of the mind that open tow- ards the suns rising. It has seemed to me that life was running more and more into prose. Even our books for children have been growing more and more prac- tical and realistic. The fairies are no longer permitted to print their rings on the tender sward of the childs fancy, and yet it is the childs fancy that some- times lives obscurely on to minister un- expected solace to the lonelier and less sociable mind of the man. Our nature resents this, and seeks refuge in the holes and corners where coarser excitements may be had at dearer rates. I sometimes find myself thinking that if this harden- ing process should go much farther. it is before us, and not behind, that we should look for the Age of Flint. DECORATION DAY. BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT. I. A WEEK before the 30th of May, three friendsJohn Stover and Hen- ry Merrill and Asa Brown-happened to meet on Saturday evening at Bartons store at the Plains. They were enjoying this idle hour after a busy week. After long easterly rains, the sun had at last come out bright and clear, and all the Barlow farmers had been planting. There was even a good deal of ploughing left to be done, the season was so backward. The three middle-aged men were old friends. They had been school - fellows, and when they were hardly out of their boyhood the war came on, and they en- listed in the same company, on the same day, and happened to march away elbow to elbow. Then came the great experience of a great war, and the years that followed their return from the South had come to each almost alike. They might have been members of the same rustic household, they knew each others history so well. They were sitting on a low wooden bench at the left of the store door as you went in. People were coming and going on their Saturday night errands the post-office was in Bartons storebut the friends talked on eagerly, without inter- rupting themselves, except by an occa- sional nod of recognition. They appeared to take no notice at all of the neighbors whom they saw oftenest. It was a most beautiful evening; the two great elms were almost half in leaf over the black- smith shop which stood across the wide road. Farther along were two small old- fashioned houses and the old white church, with its pretty belfry of four arched sides and a tiny dome at the top. The large cockerel on the vane was pointing a little south of west, and there was still light enough to make it shine bravely against the deep blue eastern sky. On the western side of the road, near the store, were the parsonage and the storekeepers modern house, which had a French roof and some attempt at decora- tion, which the long-established Barlow people called gingerbread-work, and re- garded with mingled pride and disdain. These buildings made the tiny village called Barlow Plains. They stood in the middle of a long narrow strip of level ground. They were islanded by green fields and pastures. There were hills be- yond; the mountains themselves seemed very near. Scattered about on the hill slopes were farm-houses, which stood so far apart, with their clusters of out-build- ings, that each looked lonely, and the pine woods above seemed to besiege them dli. It was lighter on the uplands than it was in the valley where the three men sat on their bench, with their backs to the store and the western sky. Well, here we be most into June, an DECORATION DAY. 85 I aint got a bush bean aboveground, lamented Henry Merrill. Your lands always late, aint it? But you always catch up with the rest on us, Asa Brown consoled him. Ive often observed that your land, though early planted, is late to sprout. I view it theres a good weeks difference betwixt me an~ Stover an your folks, but come 1st o July we all even up. Tis just so, said John Stover, taking his pipe out of his mouth, as if he had a good deal more to say, and then replacing it, as if he had changed his mind. Made it extry hard having that long wet spell. Cant none on us take no day off this season, said Asa Brown; but nobody thought it worth his while to re- spond to such evident truth. Next Saturday 11 be the 30th o Maythats Decoration day, aint it ? come round again. Lord! how the years slip by after you git to be forty-five an along there ! said Asa again. I spose some o our folks 11 go over to Alton to see the procession, sames usual. Ive got to git one o them small flags to stick on our Joels grave, an Mis Dexter al- ways counts on havin some for Harri- sons lot. I calculate to get em some- how. I must make time to ride over, but I dont know where the times comm from out o next week. I wish the women folks would tend to them things. Theres the spot where Eb Munson an John Tighe lays in the poor-farm lot, an I did mean certain to buy flags for em last year an year before, but I went an for- got it. Id like to have folks that rode by notice em for once, if they was town paupers. Eb Munson was as darin a man as ever stepped out to tuck o drum. So he was, said John Stover, taking out his pipe with decision and knocking out the ashes. Drink was his ruin; but I want one that could be harsh with Eb, no matter what he done. He worked hard longs he could, too; but he want like a sound man, an I think he took some- thin first not so much cause he loved it, but to kind of keep his strength up sos he could work, an then, all of a sudden, rum clinched with him an threw him. Eb was talkin long o me one day when he was about half full, an says he, right out, I wouldnt have fell to this state, says he, if Id had me a home an a little famly; but it dont make no difference to nobody, and its the best comfort I seem to have, an I aint goin to do without it. Im ailin all the time, says he, an if I keep middlin full, I make out to hold my own an to keep along o my work. I pitied Eb. I says to him, You aint goin to bring no shame on us old army boys, be you, Eb? An he says no, he want. I think if hed lived to get one o them big fat pensions, hed had it easier. Eight dollars a month paid his board, while hed pick up what cheap work he could, an then he got so that decent folks didnt seem to want the bother of him, an so he come on the town. There was somethin else to it, said Henry Merrill, soberly. Drink come nat- ural to him, twas born in him, I expect, an there want nobody that could turn the divil out sames they did in Scriptur. His father an his granfather was drink- in men; but they was kind-hearted an good neighbors, an never set out to wrong nobody. Twas the custom to drink in their day; folks was colder an lived poor- er in early times, an thats how most of em kept a-goin. But what stove Eb all up was his disappintment with Marthy Peckher forsakin of him an marryin old John Down whilst Eb was off to war. Ive always laid it up aginst her. Sove I, said Asa Brown. She didnt use the poor fellow right. I guess she was full as well off, but its one thing to show judgment, an another thing to have heart. There was a long pause; the subject was too familiar to need further com- ment. There aint no public spent here in Barlow, announced Asa Brown, with de- cision. I dont spose we could ever get up anything for Decoration day. Ive felt kind of shamed, but it always comes in a busy time; twant no time to have it, anyway, right in late plantin. Taint no use to look for public spent less youve got some yourself, observed John Stover, soberly; but something had pleased him in the discouraged sugges- tion. Perhaps we could mark the day this year. It comes on a Saturday; that aint nigh so bad as bein~ in the middle of the week. Nobody made any answer, and present- ly he went on: There was a time along back when folks was too near the war-time to give much thought to the bigness of it. The 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. best fellows was them that had staid to home an worked their trades an laid up money; but I dont know s its so now. Yes, the fellows that staid at home got all the fat places, an when we come back we felt dreadful behind the times, grumbled Asa Brown. I remember how twas. They begun to call us hero an old stick-in-the-mud just about the same time, resumed Stover, with a chuckle. We want no hand for strippin woodland nor tradin hosses them first few years. I don know why twas we were so beat out. The best most on us could do was to sag right on to the old folks. Father he never wanted me to go to the wartwas partly his Quaker breedan he used to be dread- ful mortified with the way I hung round down here to the store a~~ loafed round a-talkin about when I was out South, an arguin with folks that didnt know no- thin aboutwhat the generals done. There! I see me now just as he see me then; but after I had my boy strut out, I took holt o the old farm long o father, an Ive made it bounce. Look at them old mea- dows an see the herds grass that come off of em last year! I aint ashamed o my place, if I did go to the war. It all looks a sight bigger to me now than it did then, said Henry Merrill. Our goin to the war I refer to. We didnt sense it no more than other folks did. I used to be sick o hearin their stuff about patriotism an lovin your country, an them pieces o poetry women-folks wrote for the papers on the old flag, an our fallen heroes, an them things; they didnt seem to strike me in the right place; but I tell ye it kind o starts me now every time I come on the flag suddenit does so. A spell agolong in the fall, I guess it wasI was over to Alton tradin, an there was a fire company paradin. Theyd got a prize at a fair, an had just come home on the cars, an I heard the band; so I stepped to the front o the store where me an my woman was, an the company felt well, an was comm along the street most as good as troops. I see the old flag a-comm, kind of blowin back, an it went all over me. Somethin worked round in my throat; I vow I come near cryin. I was glad nobody see me. Id go to war again in a minute, de- clared Stover, after an expressive pause; but I expect we should know better what we was about. I don know but we~ve got too many rooted opinions now to make us the best o soldiers. Martin Tighe an John Tighe was considerable older than the rest, and they done well, answered Henry Merrill, quickly. We three was the youngest of any, but we did think at the time we knew the most. Well, whatever you may say, that war give the country a great start, said Asa Brown. I tell ye we just begin to see the scope ont. There was my cousin, you know, Danl Evans, that stopped with us last winter; he was telhin me that one o his coastin trips he was into the port o Beaufort lodin with yaller- pine lumber, an he was into an old bury- in-ground there is there, an he see a stone that had on it some young South- ern fellows name that was killed in the war, an under it, He died for his coun- try. Danl knowed how I used to feel about them south Carhina goings on, an I did feel kind o red an ugly for a min- ute, an then somethin come over me, an I says, Well, I don know but what the poor chap did, Dan Evans, when you come to view it all round. The other men made no answer. Les see what we can do this year. I dont care if we be a poor hanful, urged Henry Merrill. The young folks ought to have the good of it; Id like to have my boys see somethin different. Les get together what men there is. How manys left, anyhow? I know there was thirty-seven went from old Barlow, three- month men an all. There cant be over eight, countin out Martin Tighe; he cant march, said Stover. No, taint worth while. But the others did not notice his disapproval. Theres nine in all, announced Asa Brown, after pondering and counting two or three times on his fingers. I cant make us no more. I never could carry figgers in my head. I make nine, said Merrill. Well have Martin ride, an Jesse Dean too, if he will. Hes awful lively on them canes o his, An theres Jo Wade with his crutch; hes amazin spry for a short dis- tance. But we cant let em go afoot; theyre decripped men. Well make em all put on what theyve got left o their uniforms, an well scratch round an have us a fife an drum, an make the best show we can. Why, Martin Tighes boy, the next DECORATION DAY. 87 to the oldest, is an excellent hand to play the fife ! said John Stover, suddenly growing enthusiastic. If you two are set on it, lets have a word with the min- ister to-morrow, an see what he says. Perhaps hell give out some kind of a no- tice. You have to have a good many bunches o flowers. I guess wed better call a meetin, some few on us, an talk it over first o the week. Twouldnt be no great of a range for us to take to march from the old buryin-ground at the meetin-house here up to the poor-farm an round by Deacon Elwells lane, so s to notice them two stones he set up for his boys that was sunk on the man-o war. I expect they notice stones sames if the folks laid there, dont they ? He spoke wistfully. The others knew that Stover was thinking of the stone he had set up to the memory of his only brother, whose nameless grave had been made somewhere in the Wilderness. I dont know but what theyll be mad if we dont go by every house in town, he added, anxiously, as they rose to go home. Tis a terrible scattered popu- lation in Barlow to favor with a proces- sion. It was a mild starlit night. The three friends took their separate ways present- ly, leaving the Plains road and crossing the fields by foot-paths toward their farms. IL. The week went by, and the next Satur- day morning brought fair weather. It was a busy morning on the farmslike any other; but long before noon the teams of horses and oxen were seen going home from work in the fields, and everybody got ready in haste for the great event of the afternoon. It was so seldom that any occasion roused public interest in Barlow that there was an unexpected response, and the green before the old white meet- ing-house was covered with country wag- ons and groups of people, whole families together, who had come on foot. The old soldiers were to meet in the church; at half past one the procession was to start, and on its return the minister was to make an address in the old burying - ground. John Stover had been a lieutenant in the army, so he was made captain of the day. A man froni the next town had offered to drum for them, and Martin Tighes proud boy was present with his fife. He had a great longing strange enough in that peaceful sheep-raising neighborhood to go into the army; but he and his elder brother were the mainstay of their crip- pled father, and he could not be spared from the large household until a younger brother could take his place; so that all his fire and military zeal went for the present into martial tunes, and the fife was the safety-valve for his enthusiasm. The army men were used to seeing each other; everybody knew everybody in the little country town of Barlow; but when one comrade after another appeared in what remained of his accoutrements, they felt the day to be greater than they had planned, and the simple ceremony proved more solemn than any one expected. They could make no use of their every- day jokes and friendly greetings. Their old blue coats and tarnished army caps looked faded and antiquated enough. One of the men had nothing left but his rusty canteen and rifle; but these he carried like sacred emblems. He had worn out all his army clothes long ago, because when he was discharged he was too poor to buy any others. When the door of the church opened, the veterans were not abashed by the size and silence of the crowd. They came walk- ing two by two down the steps, and took their places in line as if there were no- body looking on. Their brief evolutions were like a mystic rite. The two lame men refused to do anything but march, as best they could; but poor Martin Tighe, more disabled than they, was brought out and lifted into Henry Merrills best wagon, where he sat up, straight and soldierly, with his boy for driver. There was a little flag in the whip socket before him, which flapped gayly in the breeze. It was such a long time since he had been seen out-of-doors that everybody found him a great object of interest, and paid him much attention. Even those who were tired of being asked to contribute to his support, who resented the fact of his having a helpless wife and great family; who always insisted that with his little pension and hopeless lameness, his finger- less left hand and failing sight, he could support himself and his household if he choseeven those persons came forward now to greet him handsomely and with large approval. To be sure, he enjoyed the conversation of idlers, and his wife had a complaining way that was the same begging, especially since her boys began 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to grow up and be of some use; and there were one or two near neighbors who never let them really want; so other people, who had cares enough of their own, could ex- cuse themselves~ for forgetting him the year round, and even call him shiftless. But there were none to look askance at Martin Tighe on Decoration day, as he sat in the wagon, with his bleached face like a captives, and his thin, afflicted body. He stretched out his whole hand irnpar- tially to those who had remembered him and those who had forgotten both his courage at Fredericksburg and his sorry need in Barlow. Henry Merrill had secured the engine companys large flag in Alton, and now carried it proudly. There were eight men in line, two by two, and marching a good bit apart, to make their line the longer. The fife and drum struck up gal- lantly together, and the little procession moved away slowly along the country road. It gave an unwonted touch of color to the landscapethe scarlet, the blue, between the new-ploughed fields and budding road-side thickets, between the wide dim ranges of the mountains, under the great white clouds of the spring sky. Such processions grow more pa- thetic year by year; it will not be so long now before wondering children will have seen the last. The aging faces of the men, the renewed comradeship, the quick beat of the hearts that remember, the tenderness of those who think upon old sorrowsall these make the day a lovelier and a sadder festival. So mens hearts were stirred, they knew not why, when they heard the shrill fife and the incessant drum along the quiet Barlow road, and saw the handful of old soldiers marching by. Nobody thought of them as familiar men and neighbors alone they were a part of that army which saved its country. They had taken their lives in their hands and gone out to fight plain John Stover and Jesse Dean and the rest. No matter if every other day in the year they counted for little or much, whether they were lame - footed and despised, whether their farms were of poor soil or rich. The little troop went in slender line along the road; the crowded country wagons and all the people who went afoot followed Martin Tighes wagon as if it were a great gathering at a country funeral. The route was short, and the long straggling line marched slowly; it could go no faster than the lame men could walk. In one of the houses by the road-side an old woman sat by a window, in an old-fashioned black gown,and clean white cap with a prim border which bound her thin sharp features closely. She had been for a l6ng time looking out eagerly over the snowberry and cinnamon-rose bushes; her face was pressed close to the pane, and presently she caught sight of the great flag. Let me see em! Ive got to see em go by ! she pleaded, trying to rise from her chair alone when she heard the fife, and the women helped her to the door, and held her so that she could stand and wait. She had been an old woman when the war began; she had sent two sons and two grandsons to the field; they were all gone now. As the men came by, she straightened her bent figure with all the vigor of youth. The fife and drum stopped suddenly; the colors dipped. She did not heed that, but her old eyes flash- ed and then filled with tears to see the flag going to salute the soldiers graves. Thank ye, boys; thank ye !~ she cried, in her quavering voice, and they all cheered her. The cheer went back along the straggling line for old Grandmother Dexter, standing there in her front door between the lilacs. It was one of the great moments of the day. The few old people at the poorhouse, too, were waiting to see the show. The keepers young son, knowing that it was a day of festivity, and not understanding exactly why, had put his toy flag out of the gable window, and there it showed against the gray clapboards like a gay flower. It was the only bit of decoration along the veterans way, and they stopped and saluted it before they broke ranks and went out to the field corner beyond the poor-farm barn to the bit of ground that held the paupers unmarked graves. There was a solemn silence while Asa Brown went to the back of Tighes wagon, where such light freight was carried, and brought two flags, and he and John Stover planted them straight in the green sod. They knew well enough where the right graves were, for these had been made in a corner by themselves, with unwonted sen- timent. And so Eben Munson and John Tighe were honored like the rest, both by their flags and by great and unexpected DECORATION DAY. 89 nosegays of spring flowers, daffies and flowering currant and red tulips, which lay on the graves already. John Stover and his comrade glanced at each other curiously while they stood singing, and then laid their own bunches of lilacs down and came away. Then something happened that almost none of the people in the wagons under- stood. Martin Tighes boy, who played the fife, had studied well his part, and on his poor short-winded instrument now sounded taps as well as he could. He had heard it done once in Alton at a sol- diers funeral. The plaintive notes called sadly over the fields, and echoed back from the hills. The few veterans could not look at each other; their eyes brimmed up with tears; they could not have spoken. Nothing called back old army days like that. They had a sudden vision of the Virginian camp, the hill-side dotted white with tents, the twinkling lights in other camps, and far away the glow of smoulder- ing fires. They heard the bugle call from post to post; they remembered the chilly winter night, the wind in the pines, the laughter of the men. Lights out! Mar- tin Tighes boy sounded it again sharply. It seemed as if poor Eb Munson and John Tighe must hear it too in their narrow graves. The procession went on, and stopped here and there at the little graveyards on the farms, leaving their bright flags to flutter through summer and winter rains and snows, and to bleach in the wind and sunshine. When they returned to the church, the minister made an address about the war, and every one listened with new ears. Most of what he said was familiar enough to his listeners; they were used to reading those phrases about the results of the war, the glorious future of the South, in their weekly newspapers; but there never had been such a spirit of patriotism and loyalty waked in Barlow as was waked that day by the poor parade of the remnant of the Barlow soldiers. They sent flags to all the distant graves, and proud were those households who claimed kinship with valor, and could drive or walk away with their flags held up so that others could see that they, too, were of the elect. ILL It is well that the days are long in the last of May, but John Stover had to hur- ry more than usual with his evening work, and then, having the longest dis- tance to walk, he was much the latest comer to the Plains store, where his two triumphant friends were waiting for him impatiently on the bench. They also had made excuse of going to the post-office and doing an unnecessary errand for their wives, and were talking together so busily that they had gathered a group about them before the store. When they saw Stover coming, they rose hastily and crossed the road to meet him, as if they were a committee in special session. They leaned against the post-and-board fence, after they had shaken hands with each other solemnly. Well, weve had a great day, aint we, John ? asked Henry Merrill. You did lead off splendid. Weve done a grand thing, now, I tell you. All the folks say weve got to keep it up every year. Everybody had to have a talk about it as I went home. They say they had no idea we should make such a show. Lord! I wish wed begun while there was more of us That hansome flag was the great feature, said Asa Brown, generously. I want to pay my part for hirin it. An then folks was glad to see poor old Martin made o some consequence. There was half a dozen said to me that another year theyre goin to have flags out, and trim up their places some- how or nother. Folks has feelin enough, but youve got to rouse it, said Merrill. I have thought o joinin the Grand Army over to Alton time an again, but its a good ways to go, an then the ex- pense has been o some consideration Asa continued. I dont know but two or three over there. You know, most o the Alton men natrally went out in the rigiments tother side o the line, an they was in other battles, an never camped nowheres nigh us. Seems to me we ought to have home feelin enough to do what we can right here. The minister says to me this after- noon that he was goin to arrange an have some talks in the meetin - house next winter, an have some of us tell where we was in the South; an one night twill be about camp life, an one about the long marches, an then about the battlesthat would take some time an tell all we could about the boys that was killed, an their record, so they wouldnt be forgot. He said some of the 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. folks must have the letters we wrote home from the front, an we could make out quite a history of us. I call Elder Dallas a very smart man; hed planned it all out aready, for the benefit o the young folks, he said, announced Henry Mer~ nh, in a tone of approval. I spose there aint none of us but could add a little somethin, answered John Stover, modestly. Twould relly learn the young folks a good deal. I should be scared numb to try an speak from the pulpit. That aint what the elder means, is it? Now I had a good chance to see somethin o Washinton. I shook hands with President Lincoln, an I always think Im worth lookin at for that, if I aint for nothin else. Twas that time I was just out o hospitl, an able to crawl about some. Well, well see how tis when winter comes. I never thought I had no gift for public speakin, less twas for drivin cattle or polhin the house town- meetin days. Here! Ive got somethin in mind. You neednt speak about it if I tell it to ye, he added, suddenly. You know all them hansome flowers that was laid on to Eb Munsons grave an Tighes? I mistrusted you thought the same thing I did by the way you looked. They come from Marthy Downs front yard. My woman told me when we got home that she knew em in a minute; there want nobody in town had that kind o red flowers but her. She must ha kind o harked back to the days when she was Marthy Peck. She must have come with em after dark, or else dreadful early in the mornin. Henry Merrill cleared his throat. There aint nothin half-way bout Mis Down, he said. I wouldnt ha spoken bout this less you had led right on to it; but I overtook her when I was gittin towards home this afternoon, an I see by her looks she was worked up a good deal; but we talked about how well things had gone off, an she wanted to know what expenses wed been put to, an I told her; an she said shed give five dollars any day Id stop in for it. An then she spoke right out. Im alone in the world, says she, and somethin to do with, an Id like to have a plain stone put up to Eb Munsons grave, with the number of his rigiment on it, an Ill pay the bill. Taint out o Mr. Downs money, she says; tis mine, an I want you to see to it. I said I would, but wed made a plot to git some o them soldiers head-stones thats provided by the government. Twas a shame it had been overlooked so long. No, says she; Im goin to pay for Ebs myself. An I told her there wouldnt be no objection. Dont ary one o you speak about it. Twouldnt be fair. She was real well -. appearin. I never felt to respect Marthy so before. We was kind o hard on her some- times, but folks couldnt help it. Ive seen her pass Eb right by in the road an never look at him when he first come home, said John Stover. If she hadnt felt bad, she wouldnt have cared one way or tother, insisted Henry Merrill. Taint for us to judge. Some- times folks has to get along in years be- fore they see things fair. Come; I must be goin. Im tired as an old dog. It seemed kind o natural to be step- pin out together again. Strange we three got through with so little damage, an so many dropped round us, said Asa Brown. Ive never been one mite sorry I went out in old A Company. I was thinkin when I was marchin to-day, though, that we should all have to take to the wagons before long an do our marchin on wheels, so many of us felt kind o stiff. Theres one thingfolks wont never say again that we dont show no public spent here in old Barlow. MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. BY JULIAN RALPH. TWO anecdotes told in Montana as characteristic home-made jokes illus- trate the spirit of its people. The first one is about ex-Governor Hauser. It is said that, like many another true Mon- tanian, he begins to feel a new and strange regard for small change once he gets east of the Mississippi, a consideration unknown to any man in the Treasure State. It happened, therefore, that when on one occasion he handed two bits which is to say, a silver quarterto a Chicago newsboy, and when the boy gave him a newspaper and moved away with- out making any change, the Montanian called out: I say, stop! Give me my

Julian Ralph Ralph, Julian Montana - The Treasure State. (With Map.) 90-106

90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. folks must have the letters we wrote home from the front, an we could make out quite a history of us. I call Elder Dallas a very smart man; hed planned it all out aready, for the benefit o the young folks, he said, announced Henry Mer~ nh, in a tone of approval. I spose there aint none of us but could add a little somethin, answered John Stover, modestly. Twould relly learn the young folks a good deal. I should be scared numb to try an speak from the pulpit. That aint what the elder means, is it? Now I had a good chance to see somethin o Washinton. I shook hands with President Lincoln, an I always think Im worth lookin at for that, if I aint for nothin else. Twas that time I was just out o hospitl, an able to crawl about some. Well, well see how tis when winter comes. I never thought I had no gift for public speakin, less twas for drivin cattle or polhin the house town- meetin days. Here! Ive got somethin in mind. You neednt speak about it if I tell it to ye, he added, suddenly. You know all them hansome flowers that was laid on to Eb Munsons grave an Tighes? I mistrusted you thought the same thing I did by the way you looked. They come from Marthy Downs front yard. My woman told me when we got home that she knew em in a minute; there want nobody in town had that kind o red flowers but her. She must ha kind o harked back to the days when she was Marthy Peck. She must have come with em after dark, or else dreadful early in the mornin. Henry Merrill cleared his throat. There aint nothin half-way bout Mis Down, he said. I wouldnt ha spoken bout this less you had led right on to it; but I overtook her when I was gittin towards home this afternoon, an I see by her looks she was worked up a good deal; but we talked about how well things had gone off, an she wanted to know what expenses wed been put to, an I told her; an she said shed give five dollars any day Id stop in for it. An then she spoke right out. Im alone in the world, says she, and somethin to do with, an Id like to have a plain stone put up to Eb Munsons grave, with the number of his rigiment on it, an Ill pay the bill. Taint out o Mr. Downs money, she says; tis mine, an I want you to see to it. I said I would, but wed made a plot to git some o them soldiers head-stones thats provided by the government. Twas a shame it had been overlooked so long. No, says she; Im goin to pay for Ebs myself. An I told her there wouldnt be no objection. Dont ary one o you speak about it. Twouldnt be fair. She was real well -. appearin. I never felt to respect Marthy so before. We was kind o hard on her some- times, but folks couldnt help it. Ive seen her pass Eb right by in the road an never look at him when he first come home, said John Stover. If she hadnt felt bad, she wouldnt have cared one way or tother, insisted Henry Merrill. Taint for us to judge. Some- times folks has to get along in years be- fore they see things fair. Come; I must be goin. Im tired as an old dog. It seemed kind o natural to be step- pin out together again. Strange we three got through with so little damage, an so many dropped round us, said Asa Brown. Ive never been one mite sorry I went out in old A Company. I was thinkin when I was marchin to-day, though, that we should all have to take to the wagons before long an do our marchin on wheels, so many of us felt kind o stiff. Theres one thingfolks wont never say again that we dont show no public spent here in old Barlow. MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. BY JULIAN RALPH. TWO anecdotes told in Montana as characteristic home-made jokes illus- trate the spirit of its people. The first one is about ex-Governor Hauser. It is said that, like many another true Mon- tanian, he begins to feel a new and strange regard for small change once he gets east of the Mississippi, a consideration unknown to any man in the Treasure State. It happened, therefore, that when on one occasion he handed two bits which is to say, a silver quarterto a Chicago newsboy, and when the boy gave him a newspaper and moved away with- out making any change, the Montanian called out: I say, stop! Give me my MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 91 change. At that the boy looked won- deringly at him. Oh no, he replied; you dont want no change; youre a Montana man. The other story is to the effect that a party of well - known Butte and Helena millionaires were en- joying a quiet and friendly game at poker, when a commercial traveller-a stranger to all in the partymanifested a consid- erable interest in the game, as an out- sider. The gentlemen were chipping in white chips to admit them to the betting on each hand of cards, and then they were stacking up red and blue chips in gieat profusion to attest their faith in what cards they held. The drummer found the game irresistible, and taking out a one-hundred-dollar bill, he flung it on the table and said: Gentlemen, I would like to join you. Theres the money for some chips. At that one of the millionaires looked over at the bank- er and said, Sam, take the gentlemans money, and give him a white chip. These are characteristic Montana sto- ries, and they reflect the spirit of the dominant handful of leaders in the State. If these men are not all too used to the making of big fortunes, they are at least bent upon making them, and very famil- iar with seeing them made. Years and years ago there was just such a condition of affairs in California; now it is peculiar to Montana. Think of it! Montana, speaking very roughly, is so large a State and with so small a population that it may be said to contain one inhabitant for each square mile of its surface, and yet it has been the boast of those people that no similar band of human beings in the world has approached them in the amount of wealth per capita that they have produced. As long ago as 1889 Montana contained less than 150,000 souls, and produced $60,000,000that is to say that, exclusive of what was consumed at home, the ore, cattle, horses, and sheep sent out of the State brought a sum of money equal to $400 for every man, woman, and child it supported. It is mainly a mining and a stock-rais- ing State, and these industries have so amply rewarded those who are engaged in them that agricultural and manufac- turing development have been unduly retarded. This cannot long continue. So great a State cannot be long given over to grazing herds of cattle, and dotted X~OL. Lxxxv.No. 50510 here and there with mining camps, and when we come to understand what rich farming lands the State contains, and of what vast extent are these parks and val- leys, it takes no uncommonly prophetic eye to see the State in the near future checkered with the green and yellow of well-worked farms to a greater extent than it is now ribbed with mountains. The frequent and often easy making of great fortunes has had its natural con- sequence in causing the postponement of the cultivation of the soil. It has been left for Chinamen to make the val- leys laugh with the bloom and verdure of small fruits and vegetables, and the fact that Chinamen were thus employed has tended to make such labor seem so much the less worthy of the white in- habitant. But now the white man has begun to take note of the wonderful re- sults which have followed even this petty farming, and his eyes have been opened to the wide and varied capabilities of the soil, and to the fortunes that lie in it awaiting the great agriculturists who are to comewho, indeed, are beginning work. They earned a million and a half from wheat last year, and nearly two millions of dollars from oats. But the conditions that have caused mining and stock-raising to monopolize the energy of the original people there have resulted in making Montana a very forward State, a very progressive and in- teresting fraction of the nation. It will not do for the reader to jump to the con- clusion that because mining camps and cattle ranges have been the chief fields of industry, that the population is one of cowboys and shovel-men. On the con- trary, Helena, the capital, is one of the most attractive cities in America, and is perhaps the wealthiest one of its size in the world. And scattered all over the State are other fine towns, in which will be found a very cultivated and cosmopol- itan people, fond of and accustomed to travel, holding memberships in the clubs of New York and London, living splen- didly at home, well informed, polite, fash- ionable, and intimately related, socially or in business, with the leading circles in the financial centres of the country. It was not long ago in point of actual time that our children were taught to regard the region of the Missouri as peopled by redskins and enlivened by the presence of the buffalo. But it will seem to the 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tourist of to-morrow that such a charac- terization of the country cannot have been true in the time of men now alive, so utterly are all traces of the old condi- tion obliterated. As far as such a travel- ler will be able to judge by what he sees, the Indian will appear to have gone with the buffalo. As a matter of fact, the savage is there still, but he is corralled on reservations as deer are in our parks. The tourist in Montana will find along his route a chain of thoroughly modern cities, appointed with fine and showy storehouses, the most modern means of street travel, excellent newspapers, luxu- riously appointed clubs, good hotels, and all the conveniences of latter-day life. In Helena he will meet something more nearly approaching a leisure class than I saw anywhere else in the Northwesta circle made up of men who have retired upon their incomes, or who thrive by the shrewd use of capital obtained from in- dustries that do not monopolize their at- tention. In this respect little Helena is more forward even than great Chicago. But over and through all of this pro- gress and accomplishment there shines the mysterious and romantic light of a rude era that was so recent as to have in- volved even the middle-aged men of to- day. It was of the type of that of 49 in California. It was an era of new mining camps, of swarming tides of men thirsty for nuggets, of pistol - bristling sheriffs, of vigilantes, road-agents, Indian fights, stage-coaches, and all the motley charac- ters that gave Bret Harte his inspiration. You may meet some of the men who helped to rid the State of outlaws by the holding of what they gayly spoke of as necktie parties, and the application of hemp. They are apt to lounge into the clubs on any night, and with them you may see the best Indian sign-talker who ever lived, or that quick-handed, scientific ex-constable who proudly as- serts that in the worst days he arrested h undreds of desperadoes bare - handed, without pulling his gun more than once or twice in his whole constabulary ca- reer. They represent the days of the founding of Montana. And yet in the same city where I met such men I en- countered others from London, New York, Sitka, San Francisco, and many other capitals; for, as I have said, the new Montana is in close contact with all the world. Montana is the largest of the newly admitted States; in fact, it is as large as Washington and North Dakota combined. It is one-sixth larger than the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. It is the third State in the sisterhood, ranking next after Texas and Califor- nia. It contains 143,776 square miles, and is therefore the size of the States of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylva- nia, Maryland, Virginia, and West Vir- ginia all rolled together. It is about 540 miles in length, and half as wide. As it is approached from the east, it seems to be a continuation of the bunch-grass plains land which makes up all of North Dakota. But almost all at once upon entering Montana the monotony of the great plateau is relieved by its disturb- ance into hills, which grow more and more numerous, and take on greater and greater bulk and height, until, when one- third of the State has been passed, the earth is all distorted with mountains and mountain spurs. These are the fore- runners of the Rockies, which, speaking roughly, make up tl]e final or western third of this grand and imperial new State. A g]ance at the map will call to the attention the apparently contradic- tory fact that the principal seats of pop- ulation in the State are directly in the Rocky Mountain region. This is difficult for the majority of readers to account for. They think of the Rocky Moun- tains as great bastions of bare stoneand such, indeed, the main range is; but the spurs and lesser or side ranges are grass- clad or wooded elevations, and even amid the veritable Rockies themselves are in- numerable valleys coated with the rich- est, most nutritious pasturage to be found anywhere in the world. In or beside such valleys are the cities of which I speak, built there to be close to the mines that are being worked in the mountains. Helenas history shows how such con- ditions came ahout. In 1864, after the discovery of placer gold in Alder Gulch had caused a stampede of fortune-seekers to Montana, the second scene of mining activity was Last Chance Gulch. That gulch is now the main street of Helena. The miners began washing the dirt at the foot of the gulch, and the saloon-keepers, gamblers, and traders built their places of business close to where the miners were at work. When the whole surface of the gold-bearing runways had been MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 93 passed through the pans, and $25,000,000 had been taken out in nuggets and dust, the mining ceased, but the town remain- ed. It did not shrivel and languish like Virginia City, the town that had grown up in Alder Gulch, but being at the crossing of all the old Indian trails of the Northwest, and a natural centre of the region, it waxed big, and began a new lease of life as a trading, political, and money capital. Let me begin a detailed description of Montana by saying that its future as an agricultural State will be dependent upon the extent and number of irrigation ditch- es that shall be cut in it. The average rainfall upon the eastern end of the State is only about nine inches a year; in the central part, still east of the mountains, it is nowhere more than fourteen inches, I believe. West of the mountains there is a very different country, one that is local- ly described as green~~ that is to say, the verdure has its natural term of life, and the rainfall is greater there. But that is a small part of the State by com- parison with the rest. Yet all over the State, on the great eastern plateau as well as in the valleys among the mountains, the soil is of extraordinary fertility, and it is said that at least three-fifths of it can be laid under the ditch. A glance at the map will show the reader the great lines of the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers, and the fine lines of their branches and feeders, which literally vein the chart. It is, of course, by means of the supply in these waterways that it is hoped the fu- ture farms of Montana will be founded and maintained. Governor Toole, in his last annual mes- sage, says that there was a time when it seemed not improbable that the gen- eral government would take hold of this proposition, and under its supervision control and manage the water supply to the advantage of all. It is perfectly ap- parent, however, at this time (January, 1891) that influences are co - operating which will eventuate in destroying what- ever hope we may have had in that direc- tion. Eastern communities, which have set this opposition in motion, appear to be mindful only of local interests, and not of the prosperity of the whole coun- try. Their protest is based upon the claim that the reclamation of these arid lands would subject the settler in the Eastern and Middle States to undue corn- petition, retarding relief from agriculta- ral depression.... The homes which we propose to make, he continues, are not for us alone, but for every citizen of the United States who has the courage to MAP OF MONTANA. 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. come and take one. If we are to receive any substantial or speedy benefits from our arid lands, I believe the State must first acquire a title to them, and then undertake by appropriate legislation to reclaim and dispose of them. The gov- ernment should select, survey, and con- vey these lands to the State upon such conditions as would secure their occupa- tiQn and reclamation. Independent of any such Federal ac- tion as is suggested by the Governor, in- dividual enterprise has made itself great- ly felt in the provision of irrigation ca- nals, reservoirs, and ditches. If it were not that I fear being credited with a de- sire to criticise, I would say that the rush and mania for water rights in Montana closely resemble in their impetuosity and greed the scramble for rich lands wher- ever they are newly opened in the far West, and the not altogether patriotic desire to build new cities in the State of Washington. In Montana irrigation schemes are expected to pay even better than mining; hence the scramble. I ventured to speak of this to a man who was planning to control certain valleys, which he descrihed as being of the size of dukedoms, by corralling the water- ways in them, hy which alone they could be made fit for farming. Well, he replied, we who are on the ground are going to get whatever there is lying round. You dont suppose we ate going to let a parcel of strangers preempt the water rights so that we must pay taxes to them? No; we prefer to let them pay the taxes to us. That was eminently logical, and thor- oughly human as well. But it still seems to me that either the State or the general government should own and control the water rather than that a few corporations should seize it, and thereby tax how they please that vast and general industry which will be the chief dependence of and source of wealth to the State. I am old-fashioned in this, since I but borrow the ideas of those central Asian kingdoms whose irrigating systems belonged to the governments, and yet I fancy this repug- nance to a monopoly of water will prove a new and controlling fashion when the monopolists begin to fatten on their rents. As it is, water rights can be taken only by those individuals who mean to and do utilize them for the public. Such a per- son, or such persons, can file a claim for a water right at the district United States Land-office, but must improve such rights within a reasonable time. These rights are given in perpetuity to the owners their heirs, assigns, etc., forever. They tap a stream of any part or all of its wa- ter if they want to, and run their ditch through what land they please, having the right to go through the land of a non-purchaser to reach that of a purchas- er. Then they sell the water at so much per acre per year. The rentals vary be- tween 50 cents and $1 50 an acre. Each farmer taps the ditch with lateral canals, gates being put in to divert the water into the side ditches. A farmer may also lay pipe from the ditch and carry water to his house and farm buildings, arran- ging an adequate and townlike system of water-works for domestic and stable uses; thus, at what should be a trifling expense, the farmers on irrigated lands may oh- tam this modern convenience. An mi- portant recent decision of the courts is that a man cannot buy water and allow it to run to waste in order to deprive a neighbor of it. A company preempting a water right takes it on a mountain slope, tapping the stream high above the land to be irriga- ted. As a rule, the water is not brought to a reservoir. In most instances on the east slope of the Rockies this cannot be done, but the ditches start ahove the basin land, not only to get a head or impe- tus for the water, but because in Montana the streams are apt to run in the hottoms of deep-water channels. It is a tempting business, because, since the rights are eternal, a company can afford to start even where the first outlay is large; in- deed, the more extensive the system and the larger the ditches, the better the prof- its. The country is certain to grow to meet such improvements, and to pay a handsome revenue as the years go on; and in the mean time the ditches con- stantly cement themselves and diminish their waste. The result has been that when a call was issued for data concerning irrigation in Montana, preliminary to a convention for the study of the subject at the open- ing of this year, it was found that there were already somewhere near 3500 irri- gating ditches, the property of 500 own- ers. Some of these schemes are gigantic. In some instances the project has been to secure not only the water, but the land MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 95 it is to irrigate, and the water lords ex- pect to reap fancy prices for the land from settlers, in addition to rents which their great - great - great - grandchildren may fatten upon. In other cases, only the water is got by the men or compa- nies, and they are content to confine themselves to the taxes they will impose on the land as fast as it is taken up. The cattle-men of Montana decry these schemes, and beg the officials and editors of the State not to discuss irrigation and small farming, as, they say, settlers may be induced to come in and spoil the stock or grazing business; yet I am told that one company of cattle-men has secured miles of land and the adjacent water rights along the Missouri against the in- evitable day when But the cattle busi- ness shall have another chapter. The largest irrigation scheme that is reported is that engineered by Zachary Taylor Burton, a notable figure in iVion- tana. It is in Choteau County, and taps the Teton River. The main ditch is forty miles long, fourteen feet wide at the bot- tom, and eighteen feet at the top. The ditch connects and fills two dead lake ba- sins, which now serve as reservoirs, and are fully restored to their ancient condi- tion, not only beautifying a now bloom- in g country, but having their surfaces blackened with flocks of wild swan, geese, ducks, gulls, and other fowl in the season when those birds reach that coun- try. Drives are to be laid around the lakes, and their neighborhoods are likely either to become pleasure resorts or the seats of well-to-do communities. This scheme looks forward to putting 30,000 acres under the ditch. Thus far the cost of preparing the land for cultivation has been five dollars an acre, and the charge for maintenance of the ditches will be about fifty cents an acre a year. A very peculiar and interesting scheme is that of the Dearborn Company, in the valley of the same name. Here is a val- ley containing half a million acres, a sixth part of which may be cultivated. The rest is hilly, and will always be graz- ing land. The valley is between Great Falls and Helena, alongside the main di- vide of the Rockies. Here are a number of little watercourses the Dry, Simms, Auchard, and Flat creeksin themselves incompetent to water their little valleys. These are all to be utilized as ditches. By tapping the Dearborn River with a six-foot-deep canal, thirty-eight feet wide, and only four and a half miles long, this natural system of watercourses is con- nected with a supply of water fed by eternal springs and frequent mountain snowfalls. The scheme embraces a hun- dred miles of main waterways and hun- dreds of miles of laterals. The greater part of the land benefited is obtainable by homesteaders. I have spoken of the rush for water and land. Let me explain it with an il- lustration. One of the most lofty and ambitious grabbers in the State was not long ago observed to be engaging in a most mysterious business. He was tak- ing women out into the wilderness a stage-load or two at a time. They were very reputable women schoolteachers, type - writers, married women, and their friends. They were taken to a large and pleasantly situated house, upon the pretext that they were to attend a ball and a dinner, and get a hundred dollars as a present. It all proved true. Ex- cursion party after excursion party went out in this way, and when the ladies re- turned to the town that had thus been pillaged of its beauty, they reported that they had fared upon venison and wild- fowl, with the very best of fixings, and that at the ball a number of stalwart and dashing cowboys had become their partners, tripping their light fantastic measures with an enthusiasm which made up for any lack of grace that may have been noticed. The reader may fancy what a lark it was to the women, and how very much enjoyment the more mischievous wedded ones among them got by pretending that they were maid- ens, heart-whole and free of fancy! But while those women were in the thick of this pleasure, they each signed a formal claim to a homesteaders rights in the lands thereabout. And as they prove up those claims in the fulness of time, each will get her one hundred dollars. The titles to the land will then be made over to the ingenious inventors and back- ers of the scheme, and the land will be theirs. Thus, in the language of a picturesque son of Montana, . a fellow can get a dukedom if he wants it. This is an absolutely true account of the con- quest of a valley in Montana, and the future historian of our country will find much else that is akin to it, and that will make an interesting chapter in his records. 96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Governor Toole, in his message for 1891, abandons all hope of Federal su- pervision of this potentiality of wealth, and concludes his remarks with the state- ment that he assumes it to be the province of the Legislature to provide against ex- cessive and extortionate charges by indi- viduals and companies engaged in the sale, rental, or distribution of water, and to prevent unjust discrimination in the disposal of the same to the public. He thinks the right of the State to regulate this matter should be asserted and main- tained. He does not discuss the project of having the State develop and maintain the ditches, nor does he touch upon the next best alternative-of insisting that the farmers who own the land shall inherit the water plants after a fixed term of years. But in considering Montana as it is, the main point is that there are thousands of ditches laid, and to-day a birds-eye view of the State reveals valley after valley lying ready for the settler, like so many well-ordered parlors awaiting their guests. These parklike grassy bowls needed only the utilization of the water that is in or close to each one. There they lie, under sunny skies, carpeted with grass, bordered by rounding hills~ rid of Indians, and all but empty of dangerous animals, waiting for the hodgepodge of new Americanism, to be made up of Swedes and Hollanders, Germans, Englishmen,. and whoever else may happen along. What the State par- ticularly needs is men of the Teutonic races, whose blood will not be stirred by the El Dorado-like traditions of vast and sudden wealth made in mining. It wants communities that will not be swept off the farm lands as by a cyclone at the first news that a new lead of gold or a new deposit of sapphires has been found in the mountains. Of such inflammable mate- rial, sent there in search of gold, and prone not to surrender the hope of finding more of it, has the State thus far been made up. The change is finder way; the new people of a new and greater Penn- sylvania are coniing in, as we shall see. Five years from this, the politicians of Montana will be kowtowing to the farmer vote. The northeastern corner of Montana is all Dawson Countya tract as~ big as Maryland, Vermont, and Connecticut. It is all high rolling plains land, now in use for stock-raising. It is well watered by tributaries of the Missouri, and abounds with little valleys, which will yet be very profitably farmed. Custer County, which takes up the remainder of the eastern end of Montana, is the same sort of land, and is a stock-raising country, but is yielding to the inroads of the farming element. It surprised the people of the State by the exhibit sent from therc to the State fair last August. Wheat, oats, tomatoes, cab- bages, potatoes, pumpkins, and squashes were in the yield, which was wellnigh complete, and of a high quality and size. All the lands that are watered are taken up, and this is true of the greater part of the State. The bench lands form the bulk of what remains. It has been de- monstrated that they are very productive if water can be got to them, and since the streams are tapped on the mountain slopes, it is certain that they will, to a large extent, be irrigated. Choteau County, in the north, and the next one west of Dawson, is a little em- pire in itself. It is slightly larger than Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Hampshire. It is 100 miles wide and 225 miles long, and, to borrow a Western expression, the entire population of the Northwest could be turned loose in it. It is like Dawson County in character a high rolling plateau given over to cat- tle, sheep, and the growing of the hardier grains. Rich finds of magnetic and hematite iron are reported from there. Park County is a very mountainous, crumpled-up, and rocky area, and is the northern extension and neighbor of the Yellowstone National Park. Sheep and cattle raising and mining are its princi- pal industries, and, on account of the won- derful mining finds that have recent- ly been made there, the little county is knocking at the doors of Congress for a favor. Cook City, down on the southern edge of the county, is the beginning of a wonderful mining campthat is to say, it is wonderful in the amount of ore there that could be profitably worked if coke and coal and transportation facili- ties could be had at reasonable cost. But, apparently, the only practicable route to the camp is through a corner of the Na- tional Park, and the miners are asking Congress to allow the rails to be laid there. They have had a discouraging experience thus far. The mines are prin- cipally in the hands of the discoverers, and since a prospector is usually the MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 97 poorest man in the world, they cannot afford to spend much to make their needs known to the public. The prospector, the reader should understand, is the in- defatigable Wandering Jew of the moun- tains, who prowls about amid every sort of danger, hammer in hand, and dining on hope more often than food, and who, after discovering a lead, gives, an in- terest in it to capital, and then is very fortunate if he is not frozen out. The metals that have been found in Park County are silver and lead. There is very little gold, but coal has long been very profitably mined at several points in the county. Gallatin County, next to the westward of Park, is a mountainous and mineral region also, but it contains the Gallatin Valley, which, to the agriculturist, is just now one of the most interesting districts in the United States. This great valley has more snowfall than any county in the State-at least the snow lies there longer than anywhere else. The result of the moisture, in conjunction with the character of the soil, is that the valley is one of the richest grain-producing regions in the State. For years barley has been raised there for the use of the brewers of Montana. When some samples of this Gallatin Valley barley reached NewYork, the brewers there refused to believe that any such barley was or could be grown anywhere in the world. They thought that what was shown to them was a lot of carefully selected samples. They dep- utized a committee to visit the valley, and found that the barley which had so astonished them was the common barley of the country. The grain is very clear, almost to the point of being translucent, and is in color a golden yellow. The brewers declare that no better grain for their use is grown in the world. They have organized a company, taken the water right, bought various tracts of land, amounting to 10,000 acres, and are going to try to make the valley the great malt- ing centre of the continent, if not of the world. They have put up malting-houses at two points, have established some twen- ty miles of irrigating ditches already, and by furnishing the seed and buying the yields are encouraging the farmers of the valley to grow barley. They cul- tivated 2500 bushels in 1890, and raised sixty bushels to the acre. Last year they had 10,000 acres under cultivation. They expect in a few years to be selling barley to all the brewers of the country who value what the New-Yorkers think is the~ best grain obtainable. This is the near- est approach to what is called bonanza or big-scale farming in the State of Montana. All that central district of the State, including Meagher and Fergus counties, and more besides, has been slow in the de- velopment of its mining resources. Mines have been held for years since they were discovered, because it has been hard to make capitalists and railroad men see what was in the country. It is almost always the case in such a wealthy mining region as Montana that news of rich finds is published every day, and capitalists hear the tales of prospectors with fatigued and half-closed ears. But now two routes have been surveyed into Meagher County by the Northern Pacific Company, and the Great Northern and Burlington and Missouri roads are expected to go in. All will head for Castle, the great mining camp of the country, where two smelteries are already turning out lead and silver, and freighting bullion 150 miles to the nearest railway. Thus we reach the county of which Great Falls is the seat of government and of many interesting industries and operations. This is Cascade County. It is here that the noted and majestic falls of the Missouri occur in a succession of splendid cascades. Here a company, con- trolled by wealthy men of New York, Helena, and Great Falls, have taken up something like twelve miles on either side of the river at these falls, and have thus possessed themselves of what is un- doubtedly the finest and greatest water- power in the West, comprising in all at least 250,000 horse-power, and more easily handled than that of Niagara. An aux- iliary company owns a large town site there, and a very promising and consid- erable town has already grown up to handle the wheat and wool and beef of the region, and to be already the site of smelting-works, factories, and other estab- lishments which have been attracted by the cheap and abundant water-power. In the shrewdness and reasonableness of the management of Great Falls lie much of the hope for its future. The town has never been boomed. It is planned with broad avenues and streets, and even now contains several blocks of really notable stone and brick buildings along its main 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. street. It has a fine opera-house, club, hotel, and strong banks. Its population is above 7000. This Cascade County is a very new part of Montana. A small proportion of the land is all that is yet taken, but experi- ments with this have led the people there to believe that there is no richer land in the State. Thus far the settlers are chiefly Americans. It has been and is yet a graz- ing country, but it is seen that as civiliza- tion pushes into it, the cattle business is being hurt. The difficulty in obtaining cowboy assistance is noticeable wherever farms and well-governed towns spring up, and this difficulty is increasing in this region. The cowboy and civilization are neighbors, but not friends. But it is a good grass country, and the grass is vast- ly better than that in Dakota, which be- comes frozen and loses its nutriment. Here the Chinook winds from the Pa- cific come in at all times in the winter, never failing to blow upon all except twenty or twenty-five days in each win- ter. They clear off the snow like magic. Twelve thousand cattle were shipped from Great Falls during 1891. But the wool business exceeded that. From the same point last year nearly three millions of pounds of wool more than were sent from any other point in the United States were shipped from the backs of the sheep. Because of the rich soil and good grass, very little sand blo T5 about to load down and damage the fibre of the wool. That is the case everywhere within 150 to 200 miles of the east slope of the Rockies. Sheep in this country have none of the destructive diseases which assail them else- where. The sheep and wool industries are going to be enormous in Montana on that account, whether the herding be upon the ranges, as at present, or in small herds managed by farmers, and raised upon the benches and side-hills that will not be brought under the ditch. But in view of the future of the State, the experiments in agriculture are even more interesting than the harnessing of the cascades of the Missouri to the wheels of manufacture. The sugar - beet grows finely, in answer to the generally discussed project in most of these new States to render that form of sugar-making a lead- ing industry when the lands are well set- tled. Fine, luscious strawberries grow right out on the plains wherever they have been planted, and one man on Belt Creek sold $170 worth of currants, rasp- berries, and strawberries from one acre of ground last year. Barley thrives in the soil, and has no dews or rains to bleach or must~ it when it is ripening. Wheat that is graded No. 1 Northern in Min- neapolis grows thirty to fifty bushels to the acre. There is an orchard there al- ready, producing fine apples; and here we get the first news of the astonishing potatoes of Montana - the terrapin of the State, as they have been wittily called. There are no such potatoes in the world as are grown in Montana. They attain prodigious size, and often weigh three, four, or five pounds apiece. Eighteen such po- tatoes make a bushel. To the taste they are like a new vegetable. The larger ones are mealy, but the smaller ones are like sacks of meal; when the skin is broken the meat falls out like flour. It must very soon become the pride of every stew- ard in the first-grade hotels, restaurants, and clubs of the cities here-and even in Europeto prepare these most delicious vegetables for those who enjoy good liv- ing. As these potatoes of the choicest quality can be cultivated in all the val- leys east of the Rocky Mountains, there will soon be no lack of them. To-day the only ones that have left the State have been the few bushels sent to gourmets in New York, Washington, and San Fran- cisco. All this country east of the mountains must be irrigated to insure good crops. An early and general development of the farm lands is relied upon, because the great mining camps of the State will consume nearly all the products of the farms as fast as the farms increase in number. There is no danger that the mining camps will not grow and mul- tiply to keep the demand strong. The miners are the best people in the world to farm for, because they produce money and they pay cash. The southern end of Lewis and Clarke County is a succes- sion of fine valleys. Here is Helena, the capital of the State. Six miles away a cluster of gold mines is being reopened, after having produced millions. In this county the largest mine is the Drum Lummon, an English property that has paid dividends for many years. And here are the famous ruby and sapphire fields, on the bed-rock of former benches or bot- toms of the Missouri. Strawberries of a MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 99 large and luscious variety will yield 10,000 baskets to the acre, and have sold in the past at a fixed rate of twenty cents a basket for home consumption. Ap- ples, plu ins, crab-apples, grapes, currants, and all berries grow in wonderful abun- dance, and find an eager and high-priced market close at hand. Oats weigh forty and fifty pounds a bushel, as against thir- ty-two pounds in the East, and a yield of sixty bushels to the acre can be obtained. All wheat that is brought out here for seeding produces a soft grain. It has been sent to Minneapolis to be ground into flour for pastry and cracker bakers. The Cracker Trust is building a big bak- ery in Helena, to be near this product. It is not a bread-making grain. But a new population is needed to reap the wealth that is offered from small fruits. The Chinamen are harvesting this money now, but they do not meet the home de- mand. It is a rich country, and will some day dry and can large crops of fruits and berries. The side-hills will graze small bands of cattle. If the bunch- grass sod is ploughed up, there follows a growth of blue-joint grass that is like timothy, and that is very high, heavy, and nutritious. The same result follows irrigation wherever it is permitted. Jefferson, Madison, Silver Bow, Bea- ver Head, and Deer Lodge counties, in the mountains, are all very nearly like what has just been described. Mining is the principal source of revenue, and wheat, oats, potatoes, and stock are the other products. West of the Rockies is quite a different country. It is all practically in Missoula County. The mountains are full of min- erals; the valleys will produce anything, apparently, that grows in the temperate zone even corn. Irrigation is not so absolutely necessary, and is not necessary at all in a great part of it. The land is lower; the rains are heavier; the winds from the Japan current blow there with frequency and strength, and are almost uninterrupted. Verdure remains green there all summer, and the abundance of timber, the many streams, and the ver- dant hills render the scenery more like what the Eastern man is accustomed to than that which he sees east of the Rock- ies in Montana. The southern part of Missoula County has been settled many years, largely by thrifty French Cana- dians, and it contains as fine farms as VOL. LXXXV.No. 50511 will be seen almost anywhere. Here are orchards, and small fruits grow in abun- dance for shipment to the Cocur dAlene mining camps in Idaho. Here is a mill- ing company that produced seventy-five millions of feet of lumber last year. In the north is a new country wrested from the Flathead reservation. The Flathead Valley is forty miles long and one-half as wide, possessing a deep soil and a clay subsoil. It is farmed without irrigation. Several tributary valleys of the same qual- ity open out of the main valley. Large crops of grain, hay, vegetables, and fruit have been harvested there, but the farmers have heretofore been without a market, and have subsisted by raising horses and cattle, and driving them abroad for pur- chasers. The entrance of the Great North- ern Railroad, now accomplished,will open up this rich territory,and will develop the timber resources as well as the deposits of coal, oil, and natural gas, which seem to be very extensive there. The mountains are practically unprospected, and have only just been mapped by Lieutenant Ahern, U.S.A., who has philanthropical- ly devoted his summers to that arduous and dangerous work. Indications of quartz are seen on every hand in the mountains. Taking the county as a whole, two years ago not a mining pros- pect was continuously worked, while now four mines are shipping and paying profits of $40,000 a month. ~The leads in the county are continuations of those in the Cceur dAlene country in Idaho. Coal as good as the Lethbridge product of Canada is found there in vast quantities. It is a fine sporting region. The Flathead Lake, which has 318 square miles of sur- face, is cold and clear, and so deep that it has been sounded to a depth of 1000 feet. It is full of landlocked salmon and big trout, and harbors millions of ducks and geese in their season, while deer and winged game are plenty in the country around it. The Flathead Indians, south of the lake, have nice farms, and raise cattle besides. They are self-sustaining, and at least a dozen can be named who have accumulated between $20,000 and $50,000. They are a fine, stalwart peo- ple. They are not in reality Flatheads; they have no knowledge that the tribe ever followed the practice of compressing the heads of the children, as was done by the tribes at the mouth of the Columbia River. 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. It is in this county that Marcus Daly, the mining millionaire, has invested a million dollars in horses and land, and maintains a horse farm that ranks next to Senator Stanfords Palo Alto farm in California. Here also Daniel E. Band- mann, the actor, has 1000 acres of land, and is raising imported Percheron horses and Holstein cattle. Other farmers are in the same business. It is an enormous county, and is so well populated that its people cast 4000 votes at elections. With its ore, timber, horses, cattle, coal, petro- leum, grain, and diversified small crops, it is unquestionably the finest county in the State. It would be the richest were it not for Silver Bow, with its one indus- try of mining. There is plenty of coal in Montana. It crops out in all the northern counties and in several of the southern ones. It is most profitably worked when the owner is in- terested in the railroad which carries it from the mines. In all probability, the best coal is found in the Sand Coulee fields, in Cascade County. The Rocky Fork mines, in Custer County, are part of a vast deposit Which has all been se- cured by Eastern capitalists. One hun- dred coke ovens near Livingston, in Park County, provide coke for use in the smelteries at Butte. Also in Park County are the Timber Line and Horr mines. The coal of the State is semi-bituminous. Only a mere speck ~f what the State con- tains is being mined. We have seen that cattle-raising is a conspicuous industryif industry it can be calledand is carried on in, I think, every county of the State. Large cattle herds are already things of the past in the western end of the State, and it is evident that farming and settlement will soon drive them out of Gallatin and Cascade counties. It is cause for jubilation that this is the case. It seems strange that cruelty should distinguish this branch of food-raising wherever it is seen and in whatever branch one studies it. From the bloody fields of Texas, where the in- genious fiends in the cattle business snip off the horns of the animals below the quick, to the stock - yards in Chicago, where men are found who will prod the beeves into pens, there to crush their skulls with hammers, it is everywhere the sameeverywhere the cattle business has its concomitants of cruelty and sav- agery. The reader would not suppose there was cruelty in the mere feeding of cattle on the plains, but let him go to Montana, and talk with the people there, and lie will shudder at what he hears. The cat- tle-owners, or cow-men, are in Wall Street and the south of France, or in Florida, in the winter, but their cattle are on the win- try fields, where every now and then, say once in four years, half of them, or eighty per cent., or one in three (as it happens) starve to death because of their inability to get at the grass under the snow. A horse or a mule can dig down to the grass. Those animals have a joint in their legs which the horned cattle do not possess, and which enables those animals which possess it to paw. Sheep are taken to especial winter grounds and watched over. But the cow-men do busi- ness on the principle that the gains in good years far more than offset the losses in bad years, and so when the bad years come, the poor beasts die by the thou- sandstotter along until they fall down, the living always trying to reach the body of a dead one to fall upon, and then they freeze to death, a fate that never befalls a steer or cow when it can get food. Already, on some of the ranges, the cow-men~~ (cattle-owners) are growing tired of relying upon Providence to super- intend their business, and they are send- ing men to look after the herds once a mouth, and to pick out the calves and weaker cattle and drive them to where hay is stored. By spring-time one in every fifteen or twenty in large herds will have been cared for in this way. In far east- ern Montana range-feeding in large herds will long continue, but in at least five- sevenths of the State, irrigation and the cultivation of the soil will soon end it. The hills and upper benches, all covered with self-curing bunch grass, will still remain, and will forever be used for the maintenance of small herds of cows and sheep, properly attended and provided with corrals and hay, against the times when the beasts must be fed. The farm- ers will undoubtedly go into cattle-rais- ing, and dairy-farming is certain to be a great item in the States resources, since the hills are beside every future farm, and the most provision that will be needed will be that of a little hay for stocking the inter corrals. Last year the cattle business in Montana was worth ten mill- MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 101 ions of dollars to the owners of the herds. Providence was on deck, as the cow- boys would say. But the sheep there brought twelve millions of pounds of wool on their backs in the same year. They are banded in herds of about 2000 head, and each band is in charge of one solitary, lonely, for- saken herder, who will surprise his em- ployers if he remains a sane man any great length of time. In the summer these herders sleep in tents, and the ranch foremea start out with fresh provisions at infrequent intervals, and hunt up their men as they follow the herds. In the Winter the grazing is done in sheltered places especially chosen. On the winter grounds a corral is built, and thirty to forty tons of hay are stored there for emergencies when the snow lies thick on the ground. It is a prime country for sheep. They get heavy coats, and are sub- ject to no epidemic diseases. The grass is rich and plenty, and the warm Pacific winds soon melt what snows occasionally cover the ground. The wool ranks next to that from Australia. The tendency of the sheep-herders to become insane is the most unpleasant accompaniment of the business, except the various forms of mu- tilation of the sheep for business reasons. The constant bleating of the sheep and the herders loneliness, spending weeks and months without any companionship ex- cept that of a dog and the herd, are the causes that are commonly accepted to ac- count for the fact that so many herders go insane. Since I found insanity terribly common among the pioneers on the plains in Canada, where no sheep were raised, I prefer to leave the incessant bleating of the sheep out of the calculation, and to call it lonelinessand yet, in my opinion, that is not the sole reason. The horse market has been very poor for some time, and mules are being raised for the market with better results. The substitution of electric for horse power on street railways has lessened the demand for horses, and so has the use of steam farming implements. There has been an over-supply of horses as well. But the Montana men find horses a good invest- ment. It costs nothing to raise them, and all breeds seem to improve there. They get great lung development, and acquire no diseases. When they cannot be sold for from $50 to $100 apiece, the owners keep them until they do fetch those prices. The great wealth of the State is in its mines. Butte, in Silver Bow County, is the greatest mining centre not only in Montana, but, with the possible and doubt- ful exception of one town in Australia, in all the world. The Butte output is of lead, silver, and copper. The total divi- dends paid by all the mines in the United States which make public their affairs was $16,024,842, and of that sum Mon- tanas mines paid one-quarter, or $4,059,- 700. That amount was paid in 1891, up to the end of November. Yet the richest mines are owned by private corporations which do not make known their profits. The Granite Mountain mine, in Deer Lodge County, yielding silver, lead, and some little gold, paid its owners, who are main- ly in St. Louis, $1,300,000 in the same eleven months, and has sent to St. Louis about ten millions in dividends since it began to pay. Eight years ago the stock in that mine was held at 25 cents a share, and men played pool for it in Helena and Butte. Butte first attracted the miners in 1864. They did nothing except wash dirt for five years, but they washed out eight millions of dollars. Then they found the quartz, and went down on it, only to find a great deal more silver than gold. As they went down further, they came upon the copper, and started a boom that shows no sign of diminution at this date. Butte has added to the worlds wealth $140,000,000 in gold, silver, copper, and lead. The largest producers are the Anaconda, Bos- ton and Montana, Colorado and Montana, Butte and Boston, Parrott, Lexington, Alice, Butte Reduction Works, Moulton, and Blue Bird. Those companies operate forty mines, and all have their own works for the reduction of ores. They are all high-grade ores, but some are high-grade in copper and some in silver. The An- aconda people, for instance, get enough silver and gold to render their vast out- put of copper all profit. As their capacity in copper is the greatest in the world, and as it does not cost them a cent a ton, they control the copper market of the earth. The principal owners of this property are the estate of Senator Hearst, J. B. Haggin, and Marcus Daly. Marcus Daly, who is known in the East as the foremost patron of the turf, came to Montana first on his feet, and worked at washing with a pan. That was less than twenty years ago, and now he is called The White Czar in 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Montana. He is an influential and shrewd politician, the owner of the second largest horse - breeding farm in the world, the greatest employer of labor in Montana, maintains a metropolitan hotel in a little town in the mountains, disregarding the loss it incurs in order that he may have a place in which to entertain his friends, and finally he maintains a first-class news- paper in the same town or village of An- acondaa newspaper as good as is pub- lished in any city of the second class. The town of Anaconda is where the com- pany reduces its ores. The profits of the company are never made public. The camp next in importance after Butte is Castle, in Meagher County, sixty miles from a railroad. Barker and Nei- hart are camps in the same county. The mining is for silver and lead. The big- gest mine in the Castle district is the Cumberland, which is known to be a heavy shipper of bullion, but is a close corporation. The mines in the district and in the county need railroads to open them up. Jefferson County is next to Silver Bow in richness, but though it has more paying mines than any other county in the State, the mining is all on a small scale. The Holder Mine, owned in Eng- land, is in this county. It paid $400,000 in 1891. There are about thirty districts in Lewis and Clarke County, as against seventy in Jefferson. The richest of the thirty is Unionville, five miles from He- lena. The ore is free milling gold. The Whitlatch Union Company has produced $20,000,000 there. As I have said elsewhere, Deer Lodge, Madison, Beaver Head, and Missoula coun- ties are rich in mine prospects, but the need of railroads in all except Missoula County hinders work there. The future in mining is not yet in sight in Montana. The mineral veins have been but scratch- ed. For every developed mining dis- trict in the State there are ten that are not developed, and that promise as well as any that are now being operated. Moreover, vast reaches of the mountain country have not even been explored. Of copper Montana produced 50,000 tons in 1890; of gold, $3,500, 000; of silver, $19,350,000. A few of the many stories that are told of miners luck will enable the reader to understand how and why the heads of whole communities may be turned in mining regions. Jim Whitlatch, the dis coverer of the Whitlatch-Union mine, near Helena, led a typical Western miner~s life. The mine in question is now own- ed in England, and has produced $20, 000,- 000 in gold. After Jim Whitlatch had sold the property for $1,500,000 he went to New York to make as much money as Vanderbilt. He was a rare treat to Wall Street, which fattened on him, and in one year let him go with only the clothes on his back. He returned to Montana, began prospecting~ again, and discovered a mine for which he got $250,- 000. He went to Chicago to rival Mr. Potter Palmer in wealth, and returned just as he did from New York flat- strapped, as he would have expressed it. He made still another fortune, and went to San Francisco, where he died a poor man. Another Lewis and Clarke County minethe Drum Lummonprovides an- other such story. It was discovered by an Irish immigrant named Thomas Cruse. Although he owned it, he could not get a sack of flour on credit. He sold it to an English syndicate for $1,500,000. But he remains one of the wealthy men of Helena. There is an ex-State Senator in Beaver Head County who owns a very rich mine, the ore yielding $700 to the ton net. He is a California Forty-niner, who came as a prospector to Montana, and since discovering his mine has lived upon it in a peculiar way. He has no faith in banks. He says his money is safest in the ground. When he has spent what money he has, he takes out a wagon-load of ore, ships it to Omaha, sells it, and lives on the return until he needs another wagon-load. There is a queer story concerning the Spotted Horse Mine, in Fergus County. It was found by P. A. MeAdow, who sold it to Governor Hauser and A. M. Holder for $500,000 three year ago. They paid a large sum down in cash, and the other payments were to come out of the ground. The ore was in pockets, each of which was easily exhausted. Whatever was taken out went to MeAdow, who got about $100,000. Then the purchasers abandoned it, on the advice of experts, and Mr. MeAdow took hold of it. He found the vein, over which rails had been laid for a mining car. He has taken out $500,000, and it is still a good mine. One of these children of luck came to Helena with money, picked out a wife, who was then a poor seamstress, MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 103 hired a hotel, and invited the town to the wedding. The amount of champagne that flowed at that wedding was fabulous, and it is said that the whole town reeled to bed that night. Butte is the principal seat of the min- ing work. It is what they call in Mon- tana a wide-open town, and he who thinks he knows the United States be- cause he can name the buildings which face the City Hall Park in New York would open his eyes and confess his as- tonishment were he to visit Butte. The old California mining spirit, the savor of the flush times of 49, was transplanted to the Treasure State during the war of the rebellion, and it still leaves strong traces everywhere in Montana. The smallest coin in circulation there is the nickel, or five- cent piece, but the shilling or bit is the unit of calculation. Shoeblacks and barbers charge two bits for their work; a drink at a bar costs a bit, and drinks go in pairs at two bits. Whoever wants a postage-stamp will either get no change out of a ten-cent piece, or will have the stamp given to him. Domestic servants are paid no less than $25 a month; waiter- boys in the hotels get $10 a week and their keep; the lowest wages paid to labor are paid to street-sweepers, and they re- ceive $2 50 a day. This is all an inheri- tance from California and the precedents set in Virginia City, Nevada, long ago. The little one-story and two-story square cottages that dot the suburbs of each city are of a type otherwise peculiar to the Pacific coasta type that is seen at its best in San Francisco, San Jos6, and Oakland. The disproportionate size of the vicious quarters in each Montana city, and the fashions in these quarters, are inheri- tances from the era of the California gold fever. The outcast ~vomen, who were originally the only women in each camp, have a ward or district to themselves, and there the variety theatre (which is de- scended from the original Bella Union) and the hurdy-gurdy houses, or dance halls, and the gambling hells are all clus- tered. The women have streets to them- selves in Butte, Helena, Great Fallsand, for that matter, in Seattle alsojust as they do in San Francisco. And, as is the case in California, each house in such a quarter is a one-room or two-room shan- ty, harboring one occupant. For the true women and the children of each city that end of town is taboo. Butte has more than 30,000 inhabitants, and 5000 of its men work in the mines to produce a mineral output which is within five millions of dollars of the value of the total yield of Colorado. The labor- ers who repair the streets get $3 50 a day, and the miners earn from $4 to $7. When the shifts or gangs of men change at night for the work never ceases the main street of Butte is as crowded as Broadway at Fulton Street at noon. At two or three oclock in the morning the city is still lively. There is no pretence about the town. It has few notable or expensive buildings, and it is without a good hotel. Deadwood and Butte are the only considerable towns I saw out West of which that could be said. It gives the reader a hint of the begin- nings of Butte to be told that the site of the best brick and granite building on the main street was won by a man who happened to hold only two Jacks at the time he was called. There are sixteen licensed gambling hells in Butte, and the largest ones are almost side by side on the principal street. They are as busy as so many exchanges. They are large, bare rooms, with lay-outs for faro, craps, stud poker, and other games on ta- bles at every few feet along the walls, each table faced by a knot of men, and backed by a dealer and watcher. The gambling hells keep open all the time except from Saturday midnight to Sunday midnight. In summer the doors stand open, and the gambling may be seen from the pavement. The liquor stores never close, neither do the barber shops, norI fancythe concert halls. Montana has a saloon to every eighty inhabitants. It has more saloons than Alabama, Georgia, Kansas, and Indian Territory, Maine, Mississippi, South Caro- lina, West Virginia, Vermont, or the Dis- trict of Columbia. One thing I have noticed, said a liquor-dealer of Butte, is that if a man quits drinking here, he will be dead in a month. This peculiarly businesslike observation veiled a refer- ence to the sulphur fumes, which are the consequence of the presence of many smelteries. The city is at the bottom of a well, the walls of which are tall moun- tains. High up above the town, around one side of the well, are these smelteries, whose pipes emit smoke and sulphur. In addition to this, they were heap-roast- ing the ore in the open air when I was 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. there, and the sulphur weighted and jaun- diced the atmosphere. The people rose in anger and stopped the nuisance. There are fine schools there, attended by 5000 children. The Catholic parish includes 10,000 souls, and is the largest west of the Mississippi. Butte is the only Montana town that maintains a club of university graduates. Its other club, the Silver Bow, is one of whose club-house appointments and membership any city might be proud. The people there main- tain such elevating societies and chapters as those of the Epworth League, th~ Womens Christian Temperance Union, the Kings Daughters, and the Society of Christian Endeavor. There is a cricket club there, and a rod-and-gun club, and a strong Turnverein, or German athletic society. They have some notable displays in those stores which are the head depots of great trading companies that operate far and wide. Whatever is best in Lon- don, Paris, or New York can be duplicated in Butte, and it is said that when straw- berries are a dollar a basket in New York, this strange city is one of the purchasers of them. Butte has six banks, with a cap- ital of a million dollars, and a million of dollars are paid out there in wages every month. It is impossible to make room for that which should be told of the cities of Mon- tana generally. It is my opinion that Butte will grow steadily as long as the present mines pay and new ones continue to be developed. It will be a large city, judging from present appearances. Great Falls should, in the logic of its merits, become an important city. Miles City cannot be threatened by any changes in its vicinage except such as will cause it to grow. Missoula will in all likelihood be the capital of a great and rich farming district, and perhaps of a mining section as well. The Great Northern Railway, now completing its highway through the northern counties, must develop at least one sizable town on either side of the Rockies, but the names of those towns are not in my ken. There are going to be many more inhabitants in the State than there are in Pennsylvaniapossibly twice as manyand they will build cities. Though Helena is the capital, it must still fight to retain that honor, the per- manent seat of government not yet hav- ing been chosen. But it seems almost a foregone conclusion that Helena will re main as it is, for as Butte is the industrial centre, so Helena is the social and finan- cial headquarters. It has most of the concomitants of a chief cityall, in fact, except a first-class theatre. It is com- monly credited with being the wealthiest city of its size in the world, and it does boast more than a dozen citizens each worth more than a million of dollars. But it gains that reputation most credit- ably as the backer of the principal enter- prises in the State. In its best residence quarters are many fine and costly houses, and the people in them know the luxuries and refinements of cultivation and wisely managed wealth. Helena has three daily newspapers, which receive the despatches of the chief news associations of the coun- try. A very commendable spirit in Mon- tana finds expression in a State histor- ical society, whose already imposing col- lections are housed in one of the public buildings in Helena. President Stuart and Secretary Wheeler, in gathering the early newspapers, diaries, photographs, and biographies of the pioneers, are per- forming a work which will swell in value faster than compound interest enhances the value ~f money. All the principal religious bodies are well represented in Helena in church buildings and membership; the schools and other public buildings are the sub- jects of popular pride; the stores are fine and well stocked. The Montana Club, now building a palatial stone club-house, is very much more like an Eastern than a Western club in all that makes a club attractive. There are other clubs Scotch, German, literary, musical, mer- cantile, and athletic; there are military organizations and the lodges of half a dozen secret fraternities, and there is a State Fair Association which maintains a fine race - track. Helena has many manufactures, and eight banks, with a joint capital of two and one - third mill- ions of dollars. Already three transcon- tinental railways meet therethe North- ern Pacific, Union Pacific, and the Great Northern. Among its hotels, the He- lena is a most cozy and metropolitan house, and in summer the Hotel Broad- water, in the suburbs, gives to Montana the finest hotel and watering-place in the Northwest. It is the property and ven- ture of Colonel C. A. Broadwater, a pio- neer and millionaire, and comprises a park, a hotel of the most modern and MONTANA: THE TREASURE STATE. 105 elegant character, and the largest nata- torium in the worlda bath 300 feet long and 100 feet wide, of natural hot water, medicated and curative, yet as clear as crystal, and without offence to taste or smell. The beautiful Moorish bath-house, with its daily concourse of health and pleasure seekers, its band of music and atmosphere of indolence, is the pleasant- est holiday spot in the new States. But, in my opinion, still stronger attractions to Helena are its surroundings and its cli- mate, its 300 bright, sunny, golden days in every year, its crisp, clear, healthful at- mosphere, and its picturesque belt of soft, rolling mountain breasts encircling it. Speaking from the stand-point of phys- ical human pleasure, none of the new States has a climate to compare with that of Montana. There the air is always tonic, even magnetic. It rains on 65 days in the year, but the sun manages to shine more or less even on those dayswhich come in April, May, and June. The val- leys are 4000 to 6000 feet above sea-level. Upon them the soft warm winds of the Pacific slope blow after they have emptied their moisture upon the mountain ranges of Washington. These winds temper the climate of Montana so that it seems not to belong in the cold belt of our most northerly States. It is nothing like so cold as the Dakotas; indeed, there are only a few cold days at a time, mainly in January, with little skating or sleigh- ing, and an assurance that the Chinook breezes are always close at hand. Mon- tana is a sanitarium. No account can be given of the attractions of the State with- out putting the climate high in the list. It has a magic power to breed enthusi- astic love in the hearts of all who live there, even if their stay is of but a few months duration. The inhabitants all went there to make money, and now they remain to praise the country. A spell, a mania, seizes all alike, and each vies with the other in overestimating the vast num- ber of ox teams that would be required to pull him back whence he came. Close to Helena, on ledges which mark two former levels of the Missouri River, are the world-famous sapphire and ruby beds, 8000 acres of which, with 2000 other acres under water, have recently been ac- quired by an English company of noble- men, bankers, jewellers, and others for $2,000,000, the mere value of the gold which it is thought will be taken from the dirt. That sapphires and rubies were there has been known for twenty years or more some miners having kept the finer specimens, and others having thrown them out of their pans into the river by the hundredweight as pebbles of no value. The truth, as I get it from experts, is that these stones are true ru- bies and sapphires, and the only oppor- tunity they afford for criticism lies in the fact that very nearly all of them are much lighter in color than the Asiatic gems of the same sort. In other words, pigeons -blood rubies and sapphire - blue sapphires are found there, but not often. And yet these stones of the lighter shades are of far greater brilliancy than the Asiatic gems that fashion has approved; indeed, they are often like diamonds, and as their hardness is next to that of the diamond, their lustre must prove endur- ing. The gems are found on the bed- rock under eight or ten feet of soil, along with crystals, nuggets of gold, gold-dust, garnets, and pebbles. The land was bought by two Michigan lumbermen, brothers, who now treasure a million in cash and a million in shares of the new English companyrewards for their fore- sight. One of the English experts who exam- ined the gem fields announced it to be his opinion that the diamond must sooner or later be found in Montana. All the condi- tions warrant its existence there. What a State Montana is! Gold, silver, copper, lead, asbestos, tin, iron, oil, gas, rubies, sapphires, and a possibility of. diamonds all locked up in her ribs and pockets! I see a vision of Montana in the future, yet in the lifetime of the young men of to-day. I see half a dozen such mining centres as Butte, and they are all noble cities, set with grand buildings, boule- vards, and parks. I see at least two great manufacturing towns besides. I see scores of great valleys, and other scores of little ones, all gay with the blossoms of fruits and grain, supporting a great army of prosperous farmers. I see tens of thou- sands of rills of water embroidering the green valleys, and I dream that the men who need that water to make the earth give up its other treasures are not obliged to pay more than the conduits cost, mere- ly to enrich a set of water lords who seized the streams when no one was there to protest. I see the brown hills and 106 HAIRPER$ NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. mountain-sides of the eastern part of Mon- tana dotted with cattle and sheep in small herds. The woollen industry has become a great source of wealth, and Montana has robbed New England of some of her factories. I see in western Montana great saw-mills and mines that were not dreamt of in 1892. I see car-loads of fruit and vegetables and barley malt rolling into the cities, and out to other States. I see no Indians except those who work or who serve in the army, and where there were reservations I see the soil laughing with verdure or tracked with cattle. I see statisticians calculating the value of the annual product of the State; the figures are too stupendous for repetition here. Montana is fulfilling her destiny. She is one of the most populous and opulent members of our sisterhood of States. FROM LEOPOLDS WINDOW. BY KATHARINE PEARSON woons. LEOPOLD was not his Christian name. In fact, for all practical purposes ex- cept a legal signature, he might just as well have had no Christian name at all, for his letters bore merely his surname, preceded by an initial or so, which might have meant anything, and to his friends he was simply Leopold. There was in this something not alto- gether without significance. The disused name of his baptism might be taken per- haps in a spiritual sense, as something which Leopold preferred to ignore and forget if possible; yet of which even the initials or rudimentary traces reminded him of a citizenship higher than that of this troublesome worlda citizenship whereof he had never cared to exercise the franchise. He did not impress one as particularly happy, although he was of German de- scent; and for your true German there is seldom any medium between absolute satisfaction and suicide. His business was multifarious, com- bining stock-broking with various agen- cies real-estate, steamship, and others. There lay upon his office tablea dingy little office on a hill-side street in Smoke- ton-flaming and flaunting prospectuses of country estates and unbuilt Western towns, marked by a certain want of strict accuracy in point of fact, which in no way troubled the conscience of Leopold. They were not supposed to be as exact as the neat diagrams and elevations in red and black ink which he sometimes pre- pared, and to every line and figure of which he would have been willing to make oath. I have said that Leopold was a Ger- man. No one would have doubted this who had seen tucked away under a falla cious prospectus a volume of Fouqud or Hoffmann, Heine or Uhland; who had watched him lean back from the con- coction of a specially astringent lease, to recover from this severe exertion in the perusal of Epictetus in the original; or who had glanced from the pile of threats of distraint and inducements to immi- grants, that lay ready for the postman, to the gems of art upon the grimy walls, the bronzes on the mantel, the carefully tended flowers in the window, and the canary in his cage among them, content to sing his little heart away for the Isles of the Blessed, without hope of ever be- holding them. Was Leopold wiser or more foolish than the bird? There was a softness about his eyes and lips as he listened, with his book closed upon one finger; but one could not transact business in such distraction, so the bird was ban- ished to Leopolds boarding-house, where, either from some accident or from simple loneliness, he soon pined away and died. Leopold never forgot him; he never tried to keep another near him; but his life was the poorer thereafter, though by such a very little thing. It is unnecessary to say that Leopold was a bachelor, a Junggesell of the most hardened type. It was rather the fash- ion to make fun of him on this account; and in German circles it was said of each new debutante, Perhaps she will make a conquest of Leopold, as in other cir- cles, She will have the world at her feet. Literally, of course, the world is at the feet of every one; but Leopold remained unconquered. Yet he was by no means insensible to the influence of women; only he divided them into two classeswomen from whom one expects

Katharine Pearson Woods Woods, Katharine Pearson From Leopold's Window. A Story 106-113

106 HAIRPER$ NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. mountain-sides of the eastern part of Mon- tana dotted with cattle and sheep in small herds. The woollen industry has become a great source of wealth, and Montana has robbed New England of some of her factories. I see in western Montana great saw-mills and mines that were not dreamt of in 1892. I see car-loads of fruit and vegetables and barley malt rolling into the cities, and out to other States. I see no Indians except those who work or who serve in the army, and where there were reservations I see the soil laughing with verdure or tracked with cattle. I see statisticians calculating the value of the annual product of the State; the figures are too stupendous for repetition here. Montana is fulfilling her destiny. She is one of the most populous and opulent members of our sisterhood of States. FROM LEOPOLDS WINDOW. BY KATHARINE PEARSON woons. LEOPOLD was not his Christian name. In fact, for all practical purposes ex- cept a legal signature, he might just as well have had no Christian name at all, for his letters bore merely his surname, preceded by an initial or so, which might have meant anything, and to his friends he was simply Leopold. There was in this something not alto- gether without significance. The disused name of his baptism might be taken per- haps in a spiritual sense, as something which Leopold preferred to ignore and forget if possible; yet of which even the initials or rudimentary traces reminded him of a citizenship higher than that of this troublesome worlda citizenship whereof he had never cared to exercise the franchise. He did not impress one as particularly happy, although he was of German de- scent; and for your true German there is seldom any medium between absolute satisfaction and suicide. His business was multifarious, com- bining stock-broking with various agen- cies real-estate, steamship, and others. There lay upon his office tablea dingy little office on a hill-side street in Smoke- ton-flaming and flaunting prospectuses of country estates and unbuilt Western towns, marked by a certain want of strict accuracy in point of fact, which in no way troubled the conscience of Leopold. They were not supposed to be as exact as the neat diagrams and elevations in red and black ink which he sometimes pre- pared, and to every line and figure of which he would have been willing to make oath. I have said that Leopold was a Ger- man. No one would have doubted this who had seen tucked away under a falla cious prospectus a volume of Fouqud or Hoffmann, Heine or Uhland; who had watched him lean back from the con- coction of a specially astringent lease, to recover from this severe exertion in the perusal of Epictetus in the original; or who had glanced from the pile of threats of distraint and inducements to immi- grants, that lay ready for the postman, to the gems of art upon the grimy walls, the bronzes on the mantel, the carefully tended flowers in the window, and the canary in his cage among them, content to sing his little heart away for the Isles of the Blessed, without hope of ever be- holding them. Was Leopold wiser or more foolish than the bird? There was a softness about his eyes and lips as he listened, with his book closed upon one finger; but one could not transact business in such distraction, so the bird was ban- ished to Leopolds boarding-house, where, either from some accident or from simple loneliness, he soon pined away and died. Leopold never forgot him; he never tried to keep another near him; but his life was the poorer thereafter, though by such a very little thing. It is unnecessary to say that Leopold was a bachelor, a Junggesell of the most hardened type. It was rather the fash- ion to make fun of him on this account; and in German circles it was said of each new debutante, Perhaps she will make a conquest of Leopold, as in other cir- cles, She will have the world at her feet. Literally, of course, the world is at the feet of every one; but Leopold remained unconquered. Yet he was by no means insensible to the influence of women; only he divided them into two classeswomen from whom one expects FROM LEOPOLDS WINDOW. 107 nothing; and women from whom one is tempted to expect everythingand be disappointed. Now to be disappointed disgusted Leo- pold; therefore he confined his attention to those who under his system belonged to the first class, and under the social system to no class at all. It was some- times said of him, incorrectly, that he was afraid of good women; but the truth was far more sadhe did not believe in them. It was sometimes said of Leopold that there were worse men in Smoketon who had a better reputation. He said of him- self that if his code of morals was low, at least he lived up to it; and that, if he had but a poor opinion of women, no individual woman had ever been the worse for knowing him. But the advan- tage of a code of morals that one can live up to may be seriously questioned, and if no woman were the worse for knowing Leopold (which also may be doubted), it is certain that he was much the worse for knowing himself and them. It was at this stage of his degeneration for we cannot say developmentthat he found his ideal. He was standing idly at his window, behind the blooming plants which screened him completely, when he saw her coming down the hill, a slight girlish figure, with a pale gray gown and a fair sweet happy face. As she passed under his window the breath of the flowers floated down to her; she glanced upward and smiled. That was all; but Leopold went back to his work the preparation of a particularly de- lusive German prospectus which was to be sown broadcast in his native land with renewed vigor. He wondered a lit- tle who she could be, but with a calm, pleasant, incurious wonder which rather preferred not to be gratified. The next day lie saw her by chance pass at about the same hour; and after that he found a gentle excitement in watching for her, himself unseen behind his flowers. Leopold was an enthusiastic amateur florist. A new variety of rose or geranium he would have followed up eagerly; he would never have rested until its origin and habits had been thoroughly analyzed and understood; and if he had wished to produce its like himself, he would have considered it perfectly possible to do so, by observing the proper conditions as to soil and temperature. But from this human flowerthis new variety of wo- voL. Lxxxv.No. 50512 manhe preferred to keep at a respectful distance. Perhaps, after all, she was not his Gloire de Dijon, his queen rose, the perfect woman, noblyplanned, of whom he had dreamed all his life without ever feeling impelled to finish the quotation. Or, if she were his ideal! Well, even at the heart of a rose a worm may lurk, and his life would then be barren of even a dream. He made no effort to discover the name of his divinity. It was by pure accident, if there be such a thing, that he one day saw her entering a certain house with the air of a person at home; whereupon her identity flashed upon him, slightly against his will, even though his ideal could not possibly have suffered loss by the know- ledge. Smoketon was a small place, and Dr. Worthington one of its best-known phy- sicians; and Leopold remembered a great deal of chatternot malicious enough to be called gossipabout the doctors course in bringing home lately his father, whose health had suddenly failed after a life- time of work as cashier of a great bank in a distant city, his mother, and young sister. Dr. Worthington had a houseful of small children, and no income be- yond that derived from his practice; and Smoketon was decidedly of the opinion that, while his conduct might be strictly justifiable by a reference to Bible pre- cepts, it was, on business principles, inde- fensible. Smoketon did more than chat- ter; it interested itself, through its school board, to obtain employment for the sis- ter as a teacher. Leopold had seen her name in the paper when the appointment was made Margaret Worthington. After all, there was no reason why she should not have a name of her own; and Leopold, after his first indistinct sense of annoyance had subsided, repeated it over and over to himself, and felt distinctly pleased. This was in the early spring, and he awaited with almost absurd dread the closing of the schools for the summer, when her daily path would no longer lie before his window, and, without some trouble on his side, he should be unable to see one who merely as a vision made him, as he expressed it, a better man. To shorten the blank and break the change to himself, he timed his usual fortnights holiday at the beginning of July. 108 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. There was an accumulation of letters, advertisements, and other documents awaiting him on the day that he re-en- tered his office. When he had watered his window plants, which had gone thirsty during his absence, sighed over their drooping looks, and cast a regretful glance in the direction whence no slen- der girlish form was to be expected that morning, he sat down with manly dis- regard of dust and untidiness to open his correspondence. Methodically and with businesslike ac- curacy he read and sorted rapidly letters to be answered from letters to be ignored, circulars important and unimportant, bills, checks, and all the numerous items which make up a business mans daily mail, coming neither first nor finally, but quite in the midst, between two absolutely commonplace letters, upon the following, which he read through calmly enough until he came to the signature: DEAR Sin,I have called to see you once or twice lately, and finding your office closed each time, take the precau- tion to send this that I may stand a bet- ter chance of finding you in when I call again. I am anxious to rent a small house about three bedrooms, parlor, dining- room, and kitchenrent not to exceed dollars a month, in this part of the town. I would take such a house at once if sat- isfactory in other respects, but I must be settled by September 1st. Unless I hear from you to the contrary, I shall be at your office again on Thursday, at about 10.30 AM. Respectfully, MARGARET WORTHINGTON. Leopold absolutely sprang out of his chair; then he sat down and re-read the letter. No; it was quite impossible! A letter so brief, businesslike, and to the point, so clear as to the wants and the pocket-book of the writer, could never have been written by any woman under forty; certainly not by his divinity, whose only business in life was to be put upon a pedestal and adored. To be sure, the ad- dress given was Dr. Worthington~ s resi- dence, but then Why, of course, it must be her mother! He felt unreasonably disgusted with himself for having fan- cied otherwise for a moment, and was about to toss the letter aside with an utter failure of interest, when it struck him that the hand was not that of an elderly person, and at the same moment he no- ticed the date. Thursday! To-day! She might appear at any moment. By a sudden irresistible impulse, Leo- pold caught up his hat and rushed head- long into the street, scarcely taking time to close the office door behind him. When he recovered himself, it was to determine that he had considered it necessary to go in search of the German Frau who did the modicum of cleaning which he and she considered necessary; whom he ac- cordingly fetched and mounted guard over, while she expended herculean ef- forts in raising such a cloud of dust that both of them were wellnigh strangled, while the general complexion of the office was not materially improved. Leopold was very cross indeed when she was fairly gone, and more averse than ever to the establishment of such human relations with his ideal as involved these strenuous personal exertions. And perhaps, after all, it was only her mother, he said to himself. But if she is angry, and does not return, best so, for there is little commission on a house at that rent. He was very nervous all the afternoon, and started at every step in the passage; but when the next morning passed with- out bringing her, he settled in his own mind that she was quite unlikely to come at all. Yet when, in the midst of a deed he was drawing up, a gentle knock sound- ed upon his door, Leopold knew the knocker before he lifted his eyes. Come in, he said, in a very fair imi- tation of his usual voice. He motioned her to a chair with his left hand. One moment, he said, continuing his work as though the fate of the nation hung upon that particular document. Nevertheless, the entire work had afterwards to be done over again. There was a thumping in his ears, and his breath came short, as though lie had run very fast; but the pleasure of being still able to experience such keen sensations helped him to self- control. I am Miss Worthington, said his visitor, when at last he laid aside his pen and leaned back in his chair, with a mute air of being quite at her service. I sent you a note the other day. He shuffled among his papers without FROM LEOPOLDS WINDOW. 109 finding it, partly, perhaps, because he could feel it in his breast pocket, pulsa- ting with his throbbing heart. I think I remember, he said, clear- ing his throat in order to speak. You want a small house? I am sorry I have been out of town. Oh, that was why your office was closed, she said. It is so hard to find the sort of house I want. I think I have been to every agent in town. Yes, he said; but one must go home sometimes to see his mother. And it was true that such had been the object of Leopolds journey; he brought it forward now with pathetic haste. The beautiful eyes before him were very clear and observant, and he wished to stand well before them. Margaret smiled brightly. Of course, she said, half amused, yet syinpatheti- cally. He studied her face as she talked, with quick stealthy eyes. She was older than he had thought, and her manner was very calm and businesslike. Her face was not beautiful,and there were lines upon it that told of suffering, either mental or bodily; but Leopold, who had had experience, judged it the purest face he had ever seen. Margaret, on her side, whose eyes were trained to detect the ringleader in a knot of delinquents, had taken in at a glance the incongruous surroundings which I have described, and felt strangely inter- ested in the man before her. The flow- ers, the gems of art, the simple childlike- ness of his reference to his holiday and its object, appealed to the girls heart. His face was written over with characters which she could not at all understand; but it was not far from a handsome face, and certainly was not ignoble. And he looked at her so wistfully: the expression of his eyes was certainly fine, and the overfulness of his lips was redeemed by a pathetic droop at the corners. Poor man ! said Margaret. She was impressed also by the patient care with which he listened to her re- quirements in the matter of a house, making minute notes of the same on his tablets. She did not know that he had in his mind a house which would have suited her exactly, the present occupant of which was very anxious to sublet. I will look around, said Leopold, and drop you a line in a day or two, if I hear of anything. For he could word the note so as to bring her to his office, he thought; and he would rather find her another house if possible, for the one he had in mind was on the wrong side of her school-house: there would be no more passing his window twice a day if she lived there. You know the rent would be sure to the day, Margaret told him. I teach in the public schools. In No. 7, he said, smilingand the best in Leopold came out in his smile I have seen it in the paper. Oh yes, there is no fear of the rent, Miss Worth- ington. Your brother, too, is well known in Smoketon. There are not so many houses to rent, but perhaps we can find what you want. You know my brother ? she said; and you know he has a great many children. My mother and I would never complain of their noise, and indeed they are good little things; but my father is old and very nervous, and sometimes they annoy him. So we think it best to keep up a separate establishment. Leopold smiled; there was a very plea- sant thrill at his heart that she should so confide in him. Upon various pretexts he managed that Margaret should come rather frequently to his office during the next few weeks. It was, as we have seen, not an unattrac- tive place; and in addition to the trans- action of business, offered facilities for artistic and literary discussion, of which Margaret, the most unconventional being who ever avoided eccentricity, was not sorry to avail herself. Leopold lent her books, he was a cultivated, well-read per- son, and she enjoyed talking to him. But Margaret wondered a little some- times why he had ever turned his atten- tion to the renting of houses, of which he seemed to know absolutely nothing. He was always on the eve of looking around, or else had just seen a house that would not suit her at all. The girl, as a practical woman of business, felt annoyed at times; but she was a stran- ger in Smoketon, and supposed that all Smoketonians did business that way. Meanwhile the man, with his experi- ence, and his enfeebled yet sure and living instinct, was reading, searching every day more and more the depths of this pure soul. Not that he willed to penetrate her thoughts,for Leopold would 110 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. rather have kept to the fair and beautiful surface of things. Their intercourse was to him far from an unmixed pleasure, for he trembled at every meeting lest she should betray some unlovely trait or emotion. But Margaret was utterly trans- parent and simply true, for which reason she had hitherto found few to understand her. This man, she felt, did. He divined the meaning that lay beneath a look, a gesture, or in the grasp of an incomplete sentence; and though he had not the gift of a fluent tongue, his ready smile and quick glance interpreted her thought to herself and left her satisfied. By no fixed plan, but because her presence galvanized to a real but transient activity his torpid spirituality, Leopold showed her all the higher possibilities of his nature. He was when with her a pale reflection of the man he was meant to be Gods ideal of him. But the stimulus never outlasted her actual pres- ence. In the interval between her visits, Leopold was his old self, save that the so- ciety of any other woman troubled him, and lie kept as far from the sex as possi- ble. Yet even this was scarcely a sign of grace, or due to Margarets influence, since it had been true of him for some months before his first sight of her. Some of his friends accused him jocular- ly of having sobered down and grown good; but Leopold shook his head. A man does not grow good as he grows older, he said. I think he is a worse man when he has worn out his emotions. One day he discovered, half accidental- ly, that Margaret was called by her im- mediate family, Pearl. It has never gone outside ourselves, she said. I think a pet name like that loses sacredness when it passes beyond the four walls of home. Leopold looked at her with a smile of exquisite a~sthetic pleasure. The name, the sentiment, touched him more nearly than anything yet had done. When she had gone, he said it over to himself, soft- ly, several times, in English and German. Pearl; Pearl; die Perle; mein Pert- chen, said Leopold, under his breath. It clung about his thoughts as the scent of violets had clung to his fingers when he once had touched her ungloved hand. To have so beautiful thoughts makes one a better man, he said to himself. Late in August he found her a house, not so convenient, so comfortable, or in so healthful a location as the first he had thought of, the tenant of which was still trying vainly to sublet, but ~on the right side of the school-house for Leopold. He should see her pass his office twice a day, and once in every month she would come in to pay the rent. But he was very thought- ful of her in the preparation of this house. It was papered, painted, and generally renovated until it shone again, and the rent was lower than to the last tenant by the exact amount of the agents commis- sion. It is because I am so sure of the money, he said to Pearl in explaining the lease, in which the rent was given at the usual figure. You will always come in on the day you draw your salary, and I cannot take money for the pleasure of seeing you, he added. It is awfully kind of you, Mr. Leo- pold, said Pearl. She laughed a little about it to her brother when she went home, but Dr. Worthington took it very philosophi- cally. Youll find that Smoketon is very good to self-supporting women, he said. We may not rise to give them our seats in a street car, but we make it up in other ways. If the lease had been made out in fathers name you would not have fared so well. Besides, its exactly like Leopold. Hes a queer genius, but the kindest-hearted fellow going. Only you dont want to fall in love with him, Pearl. He isnt a Sunday-school book sort of fel- low, you know. I havent time to fall in love with any one, and certainly not with Mr. Leo- pold, though I like him very much in- deed, said Pearl, quietly. Hes a first-class friend, but dont let it go any further, said her brother. He was not especially alarmed for his sister, as he did not believe Leopold at all likely to marry, and, besides, had implicit confi- dence in Pearls good sense. Margaret looked just a little wistful when he had left her. No, she said at last, with a shake of her head, I havent time to fall in love, and that is all there is about it. She was very busy for the next week moving into her new home, in fact, she worked so hard to get settled before school began that she over-fatigued herself, and taking cold upon the top of that from FROM LEOPOLDS WINDOW. 111 sleeping in a room which had been re- plastered and was not thoroughly dry, she was in bed for a few days, which Le- opold was sincerely sorry to hear. Yet her failing to pass his window was hardly so serious in itself as losing the first week of school, with the consequent difficulty in catching the year by the right end, which every teacher will easily realize. Mar- garet said that it made her work harder for the whole ten months. She never felt that she really knew her scholars or had thorough control of them, which was, of course, all the more exhausting to her nervous energy because she had returned to her work before she was physically fit to do so. You ought to take care of yourself, Leopold said to her several times. You are working too hard. Teaching is not fit for you. I never felt it as I do this year, Margaret said. It is a longer walk to school than I ever had before, and the cars are no good to me at all, at least in wet weather. I have so far to walk at each end that I get thoroughly damp, and then I catch cold. The schoolhouse is badly situated,~~ said Leopold, gravely. It is not on any car line, and that is wrong. The little house which she might have had was within a stones-throw of the school, but there would then have been no daily passing of Leopolds window, with a glance and smile for him when- ever he chose to claim them. And this was not always; for though it was very convenient to be busy about his flowers at the times he expected her, he some- times preferred to remain concealed, and watch the slight look of disappointment with which the beautiful eyes dropped again. Leopold was not a coxcomb; he was perfectly conscious that the disappoint- ment was very slight indeed. The slight- ness of it surprised even Margaret herself. It is almost a wonder, she said, that Mr. Leopold and I do not fall in love with one another. The year wore around to July again. Margarets teaching was over, and Leo- polds annual holiday had come. I must go home to see my parents, you know, he said, half excusingly. They have no one but me. You have no brothers or sisters ? she asked. None; and I may say that I have no home; that I have nbver had, he told her. I went first to school when I was but seven years olda great boarding- school, too; for my parents had only me, and they were resolved to give me a good education. Well, Im sure they succeeded, said Margaret. He shook his head. I wish they had kept me at home a few years longer, he said. A man has lost much, Miss Worthington, when he has missed know- ing what it is to have a home of his own. He looked at her very wistfully; his eyes seemed to pray her not to be hard upon him, to make this excuse for him that he had never had a home. Then he let his glance fall upon the paper where his pencil idly traced strange arabesques. There was a great sadness at his heart, and for once he was not absorbed in epi- curean enjoyment of Margarets charac- ter. He had known her for a year, and he was about to leave her, though for such a short while; it seemed to Leopold that he had read the book of her soul to the very end, and found not one line that was not utterly pure and womanly. Yet she had faults, he knew; she was hasty in speech, quick-tempered, proud; but these, in his mind, were but the nat- ural shading which enabled him to be- lieve in the truthfulness of the picture. His ideal had come very close to him; she was all that he had dreamed, and more; but Leopolds chief feeling was one of weary disappointment. He looked up again, and met her grave, considering eyes fixed upon his face, as though she were weighing, judging, read- ing his character as he had read hers. The blood rushed to his forehead; for a moment Leopold saw himself, not quite with her eyesah no Ibut in a measure as she would have seen him had she known his life; and he was vile in his own sight for that one moment. Margaret rose to go, and held out her hand in good-by. And thank you, she said, for all your many kindnesses. No, no, Miss Worthington, he an- swered, holding her hand lightlyhe could scarcely bring himself to touch It; it is you who have been kind to me. He did not explain his meaning, nor did Margaret ask it; she went away feel- ing very strangely heavy of heart, while 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Leopold accepted his own society with utter self-loathing. It is possible, I believe it is perfectly possible, for a woman to be thoroughly pure and good, said Leopold, with a great advance from his sentiments of last year. . It is not possible for a man; but if I had known her earlier, I could have been better. Now it is too late. He was gone his usual fortnight. On his return he awaited, half eagerly, half in dread, some sign or token from her, some glimpse of her upon the street. For Leopold felt dimly that there had come a crisis in their friendship; he had reached a point whence he must go for- ward or back. The questioning look in Margarets eyes had told him this. She had begun to judge him. He turned pale at the thought that she could know him as he was; yet so to live as not to dread those eyes was a task beyond his strength beyond the strength that his life had left him. But the days passed, and still he saw nothing, heard nothing of her, and he would ask no questions, for save from sheer necessity her name had never pass- ed his lips. One day he saw in a jewel- lers window a bracelet of fine golden chain-work, the clasp set with one large pearl; another day an engraving they had discussed, and which Margaret had expressed a desire to own, made its ap- pearance among the stock of a certain picture-dealer. Leopold bought them both; he could scarcely have told why, except that it would have been his most natural course had he been a better, and therefore a happier man. There was a pathetic side to his extravagance, as there is to the herculean efforts of a hopeless invalid to walk the few steps which a person in normal health accomplishes without a thought. Then came the 1st of August. She will come at last, thought Leopold. His new engraving, framed, hung over his mantel; he had bought a new carpet for his floor, and new pots of blooming plants stood in his window, for it had been a frightfully hot and sickly sum- mer, and the old plants had died during his absence. There was not a speck of dust upon anything in the office, and, in a morocco case in the drawer at his el- bow, lay the heavy bracelet with its sin- gle pearl. But the day passed, and Mar- garet did not come. There was a film of dust over every- thing the next morning, even upon the flowers which he had not had the heart to water: if they were to live without Margarets smile, it were better that they should die, said Leopold. His eyes were weary and his face haggard when, late in the afternoon, Dr. Worthington sprang out of a carriage at the door and ran into the office. I am instructed to hand you this, he said, as he placed an envelope on the ta- ble; the rent and thirty days notice, you see. I shant let them stay in that house, Leopold; unhealthy situation, and I always said so. The notice ought to have reached you two days ago, but Ive simply not had time to breathe. I shall move them out as soon as my sister is well enough. Leopold had begun, dully and mechan- ically, to fill out a receipt. A great blot fell upon the paper with the start he gave, yet he did not speak. Never mind another receipt; that one will answer, said the doctor, who had all Pearls powers of observation joined to his own volubility. I suppose you had not heard of her illnessl Typhoid fever; shes as low as she can be to be alive; but I hope, in Gods good mercy,well pull her through. Thats right. Thank you, as he took the blotted receipt. Good- by. Im just rushed to death this sum- mer. When he was gone, Leopold said over to himself: In Gods good mercy, well pull her through. In Gods good mercy, he repeated. In Gods good mercy. It was the nearest to a prayer that he had ever come. He sat in his office in the summer darkness silent and motion- less for a long, long time; then he went to his lodgings, ate a hearty supper, and slept heavily, rising the next morning to endure the same dull anguish in the same mechanical way. It never occurred to him to send her fruit or flowers, or to offer any of those trifling attentions that have been the stay of many a breaking heart; he never went near the house, but sat in the office which she would never again enter, and waited for the blow to fall. Two days later he saw a notice of her death in the paper. Early in the following spring, Dr. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 113 Worthington entered a certain jewellers shop, and laid on the counter a bracelet of golden chain-work, the clasp set with a single large pearl. I want to trace this, he said. I found it, and fancy it may have been stolen and secreted; the case was pretty far gone, but I made out your name on it. Can you tell me any- thing about it ? I shouldnt wonder if I could, said the jeweller. Mr. Leopold bought that bracelet from me last summer some time. I did not ask any questions. Thank you, said the doctor; thats all I want to know. He stumbled a little in getting into his buggy. Poor fellow ! he said, brush- ing the back of his glove across his eyes. The next evening he drove out alone- thus proving himself worthy to be Pearls brotherand replaced deeper beneath the soil of his sisters grave than he had found it, the pearl-set bracelet. The paper in which he had wrapped it was a receipt for house-rent, with one large round blot of ink upon it. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. BY COURTE~AY DE KALB. PERU consists of three regions, distin- guished from each other by physical characteristics of the utmost dissimilitude. The almost rainless western coast de- scends in a series of plateaus and pictu- resque valleys to the sea. Here are cen- tred that higher culture and progressive activity which give Peru her standing among the nations of the earth. Rimmed about with lofty mountains, extensive in- terior valleys stretch in a chain from north to south, subduing the asperity of naked rocks and fields of snow with their bloom and verdure. Except in the case of a favored few, those born here are fated to life-long isolation, relieved only at infrequent intervals by scanty news of the larger life of the world, brought in when mule trains toil across that wall of cold blue peaks which limits their vision forever. East of all this occurs an abrupt transition from the mountains to the broad, low-lying forests of the Amazonian basin. The silent solitudes and torpor of the tropical wilderness seem to have placed a spell over life in all its forms, while nature has almost interdicted labor by that lavish abundance which renders the problem of existence so easy of solu- tion. With an imperturbable gravity and serene contentment, the inhabitants of this region glide on the stream of time unembarrassed by need of serious fore- cast, for the opportunities of all days are to them the same. Eastern Peru, though changing its po- litical title at various periods, has been called the Montafia, or wooded country, since the first colony was planted there two hundred and fifty-six years ago. The experiences of the early settlers were an endless succession of romantic adven- tures. Towns were built and destroyed many times, and there is scarcely a sin- gle site which has not been bathed with the blood of white and Indian through centuries of conflict. Spanish and Peru- vian possession of this territory has con- sequently been more nominal than real until within the last twenty years, during which time several of the old mission stations have flourished forth into cities of from two thousand to six thousand in- habitants, under the commercial stimulus given by opening the Amazon to the flags of all nations in 1866. Accordingly the majority of the pure whites now liv- ing in the Montafia are either Peruvians originally from the west coast, or Ger- mans, French, and English, with two or three Americans, who have been allured into this remote corner of the globe by the prospect of speedily amassing fortunes in the rubber trade. These new-comers are often noble examples of manhood, full of that courage and determination which are needful in establishing govern- ment and commercial prosperity in the midst of a somnolent and sometimes treacherous native population. Women of apparently equal rank are, however, conspicuously absent. Almost without exception they belong to the class of eholos, or half-breeds. The Indian ele- ment is strong in the features of this mixed race, although at times the Cau- casian blossoms out in a clear-cut arching mouth, a delicate face and chin, and a thin aquiline nose. The young women possess the feminine instinct of neatness

Courtenay De Kalb De Kalb, Courtenay Social And Intellectual Condition Of Eastern Peru 113-126

SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 113 Worthington entered a certain jewellers shop, and laid on the counter a bracelet of golden chain-work, the clasp set with a single large pearl. I want to trace this, he said. I found it, and fancy it may have been stolen and secreted; the case was pretty far gone, but I made out your name on it. Can you tell me any- thing about it ? I shouldnt wonder if I could, said the jeweller. Mr. Leopold bought that bracelet from me last summer some time. I did not ask any questions. Thank you, said the doctor; thats all I want to know. He stumbled a little in getting into his buggy. Poor fellow ! he said, brush- ing the back of his glove across his eyes. The next evening he drove out alone- thus proving himself worthy to be Pearls brotherand replaced deeper beneath the soil of his sisters grave than he had found it, the pearl-set bracelet. The paper in which he had wrapped it was a receipt for house-rent, with one large round blot of ink upon it. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. BY COURTE~AY DE KALB. PERU consists of three regions, distin- guished from each other by physical characteristics of the utmost dissimilitude. The almost rainless western coast de- scends in a series of plateaus and pictu- resque valleys to the sea. Here are cen- tred that higher culture and progressive activity which give Peru her standing among the nations of the earth. Rimmed about with lofty mountains, extensive in- terior valleys stretch in a chain from north to south, subduing the asperity of naked rocks and fields of snow with their bloom and verdure. Except in the case of a favored few, those born here are fated to life-long isolation, relieved only at infrequent intervals by scanty news of the larger life of the world, brought in when mule trains toil across that wall of cold blue peaks which limits their vision forever. East of all this occurs an abrupt transition from the mountains to the broad, low-lying forests of the Amazonian basin. The silent solitudes and torpor of the tropical wilderness seem to have placed a spell over life in all its forms, while nature has almost interdicted labor by that lavish abundance which renders the problem of existence so easy of solu- tion. With an imperturbable gravity and serene contentment, the inhabitants of this region glide on the stream of time unembarrassed by need of serious fore- cast, for the opportunities of all days are to them the same. Eastern Peru, though changing its po- litical title at various periods, has been called the Montafia, or wooded country, since the first colony was planted there two hundred and fifty-six years ago. The experiences of the early settlers were an endless succession of romantic adven- tures. Towns were built and destroyed many times, and there is scarcely a sin- gle site which has not been bathed with the blood of white and Indian through centuries of conflict. Spanish and Peru- vian possession of this territory has con- sequently been more nominal than real until within the last twenty years, during which time several of the old mission stations have flourished forth into cities of from two thousand to six thousand in- habitants, under the commercial stimulus given by opening the Amazon to the flags of all nations in 1866. Accordingly the majority of the pure whites now liv- ing in the Montafia are either Peruvians originally from the west coast, or Ger- mans, French, and English, with two or three Americans, who have been allured into this remote corner of the globe by the prospect of speedily amassing fortunes in the rubber trade. These new-comers are often noble examples of manhood, full of that courage and determination which are needful in establishing govern- ment and commercial prosperity in the midst of a somnolent and sometimes treacherous native population. Women of apparently equal rank are, however, conspicuously absent. Almost without exception they belong to the class of eholos, or half-breeds. The Indian ele- ment is strong in the features of this mixed race, although at times the Cau- casian blossoms out in a clear-cut arching mouth, a delicate face and chin, and a thin aquiline nose. The young women possess the feminine instinct of neatness 114 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in dress and love of personal adornment. Simple pink or light blue frocks trimmed with a bit of lace or ribbons make a cool, becoming costume. The dark hair is se- cured behind by a ribbon, from which it falls loose down the back. A few pinks and rose-buds half encircle the head like a broken wreath. Out-of-doors a Panama hat is worn well down over the eyes, and a thin blue and white shawl invariably envelops the shoulders. But the dirt of loosely constructed houses and the damp- ness and mildew of a tropical climate render it difficult to preserve undimin- ished the spirit of neatness, and at last with age they lapse into the slovenliness of the typical old women of the country, becoming shrivelled, toothless, hollow- eyed, and innocent of any attention to gi~ace of manner or tidiness of appearance. The men are more prepossessing. A youthful beauty of physical strength and vigor ripens into a rugged weather-beaten aspect, which masks the lines of age. The cholos rival the Indians in num- ber throughout eastern Peru, which fact alone serves as circumstantial evidence turer must either become an exile or found here his home. There has not been in the past, nor is there to-day, any reluc- tance to inter- marriage between white and Indian. Indeed a foreign- er seldom remains here long without becoming married. The Montafia of Peru is a lonely place. For a man who must live here for years, apart from friends and kindred, it certainly must become fearfully lonely. The outer world almost loses its reality, and ebbs from the memory into the dimness of a dream. He sees perpetually a few faces which represent humanity and all hu- man affections, hopes, aspirations to him, until at last he fancies he can see the promise of an ideal life in those dark lustrous eyes, forgetting the tawny skin, the harsh speech, the want of noble bear- ing. It is, after all, a human soul, and the human soul flashing through intelli- gent eyes is always suggestive of infinite possibilities. So lie estimates the spirit at the value of its potentiality, being hungry for sympathy, and hence not careful to avoid the enticement of dark eyes flashing on him. Then he becomes tied irrevocably to the soil, and realizes too late that the innate power of youth needs somewhat more than the narrow opportunities of a tropical wilderness for its development. The disappointment, moreover, is not confined to him alone. MAP OF NORTHERN PERU. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 115 Few inducements to matrimony are so the whole mould of his features is heavy powerful among these women as the hope and fierce, even forbidding at times; but of its leading ultimately to their perma- he con fesses the superiority of a conquer- nent removal to Europe, and many a ing race in his manner. While in repose chola wife, attractive only in the lonely he wears the determined, independent air Montafla, has seen this fond dream fade of the savage; address him, and he chuc- away with the growing years without kles, and twists his body nervously, after suspecting the cause of that hesitancy in the fashion of a bashful school-boy. The her spouse which was dooming her to women are even uglier than the men, and end her days in the land where she was are indistinguishable from them by any born, difference in dress, the simple wide band Despite the privations, sorrows, blasted of brown or blue cloth, woven by their hopes, of the whites and eholos, they form own hands from the cotton of the coun- the light relief on the darker background try, forming their only garment. of the cameo of East Peruvian life, for fewer and feebler still are the illumina- tions of the Indians existence here. It matters little whether he be an infiel (in- fidel) or a cristiano, the limitations to his happiness are nearly the same. The latter has nominally accepted a new faith. He has certainly accepted a Christian otherwise a Spanish, name, and he has at the same time passed under the yoke of serfdom. The infidel, on the contrary, retains the privileges of an autonomous being. He is a true child of nature, bare- footed, bareheaded, bare to the waist also wearing only a strip of cloth girded about the loins and hanging down to the knees. He is of inferior stature, but strong and sinewy; his nose is short and broad, rare- ly arched; his long hair is bound close to his head by a band of some plaited fibre; Upon arriving at a chacra, which an- cient name for an Indian lint has come to be applied to all haciendas in the Mon- taiia, a grassy flat, or piano, is discovered with a single large house, and a number of little palm-thatched structures strung in a line like a street, around which, and scattered in groups alone, the river, will be the Indians in their half nudity auddis- mal filth, chattering like a flock of par- rots. At a word from the master, off they go to theh~ work, garrulous and merry as ever. Women come and go, always re- served and stolid, often sullen. Next you may see a file of Indians passing along in front of the line of huts. You speedily become aware that these are intruders, for the women shrink into the houses, closing the doors behind them; children surprised at some distance from their homes are run- YOL. Lxxxv.No. 505.i 3 A SIESTA. 116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fling like frightened rabbits; while the men near you exclaim, in a stage-whisper, In- fieles! You would never have guessed it yourself, so fine and fictitious often is the line that separates the cristiano from his savage brother. When they are safely gone, there is a sigh of relief over this de- liverance from the presence of the infidel monster. This horror exists without ap- parent cause. The savages no longer sweep with fire and carnage the villages of the Christians; but there exists this dread of a being regarded as radically dif- fering from themselves, whose hand or garment even it were a sort of 1)ollution to touch. This is the most notable pre- judice against a class or race, as such, any- where discoverable in the Montaiia. The don, living here in hi~ casa de hacienda like a lord in his castle, hav- ing a numerous vassalry at his beck planting, reaping, distilling his aguar- diertte, tending his flocks of cattlefar though he be above them, remote as master must ever be from slave, fre- quently betrays in his swart skin the same blood as that which flows in the veins of those he rules. Sometimes he may be a white, again a mestizo, or even an Indian, with the Indians black wave- less hair and heavy features. He would have become a chief had he been a sav- age; he is now a don because of his estate, which lends him dignity. He has had the genius not to continue in pover- ty and helpless dependence, therefore he becomes the peer of the proudest in his native land. It is one of the anomalies of eastern Peru that a people so long kept in servitude have acquired no taint of social degradation in consequence; that neither aborigine nor cholo is any- where spurned because of his blood; that, in fact, no one thinks of his racial origin, but is content with knowing his claims upon respect as a citizen of the common- wealth. The final distinction between men is founded, then, upon their riches a not uncommon distinction in other lands; but riches here become too often translatable into the mere ability a man possesses to get himself served by others, to avoid manual labor of every sort. It is a remnant of those landed aristocra- cies still in operation here, not only in Peru, but in nearly the whole of Spanish America, destined soon to fade into the nebula of the historic past here as else- where. Slavery has no recognition in Peru- vian law, but there are ways of main- taming and explaining it not unworthy of some admiration for their cleverness. Take, for example, an established chacra, or haciendaany hacienda. Here is the large space cleared of forest, the casa de hacienda, the row of quinchas, or Indian huts, where dwell the gentes, brazos plantation hands, as we might call them. It looks like a little town, or pueblo, but such in reality it is not. Common par- lance, with due discrimination, calls it a chacra. In a pueblo ownership is divided between two or many parties; a chacra acknowledges the ownership of a single individual. The quinchas may have been built by the gentes who occupy them. No matter! The ground on which they stand belongs to the don, and the time taken in constructing them was graciously giv- en in respite from other duties. The pro- duct of this labor, then the quincha, to wit-most undeniably belongs to the owner of the chacra! In no wise can it credit the Indian anything in his account with his master. But, according to law, the Indian is a free man. Certainly! Also, according to law, :no manwhite, mestizo, or Indianmay leave the place where lie has contracted a debt until he has paid it, if his creditors choose to en- join (embargar) him. Now it happens that the Indians are all and always heavily in debt to the owner of the chacra where they live, and said owners do choose to enjoin them, wherefore the Indian remains perpetually embargoed. When the young Indian has grown large enough to do what may be regarded as a man s work, he enters service. He re- ceives the habitual recompense of nine soles * per month. On this sum he can- not live. The master knows it; the In- dian knows it; but what is to be done when such is the established stipend throughout the length and breadth of the valley? The result is, receiving none of the commonest necessaries of life gratuitously, he overdraws from the first. A strict account is kept of all that he obtains from his master of food, clothing, implements, and knickknacks; papers of injunction are duly served, and lie is compelled to work on day after day in satisfaction of the debt, * Ia the Montafia the silver sol is rated at 80 cents, but its purchasing power is equal to no more than 40 cents iu the United States. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 117 which with each setting sun has grown ers together his few possessionshis ham- more irredeemably large above him. mock, machete, blow-,,un, and fishing- The Indian thus comes to think of him- tackle-and sets out at night in his ca- elf as a fixture at the ehacra. The noe, only to enter a life of greater misery magnitude of his debt concerns him not. among the savages, perchaiice eveu to be The more he can induce his master to let killed and eaten by them. At other times him owe, so many more of the comforts a brutal master gains retributive death at of this world does he enjoy, and so mnch the hands of those he had maltreated, and the greater is his bliss, they announce, We had to kill our pa- Consider another phase of the matter. tron. Patron, akin to father, they If a nian desires to establish a new haci- call him, eveii when the term has lost its enda, he can obtain all the land he may significance, when he has ceased to be a need by simply denouncing it in due father, and has driven them to such fearful legal form, occupying, and building a desperation. It is not exactly padre, but house on it; but he cannot secure labor- the name carries with it the patriarchal ers by spreadin~,, the rumor of his wishes idea, and has in if the note of kindness. and summoning a crowd of applicants By long servitude the Indians have been from which to choose. For these lie reduced to a state of helplessness such must repair to some well-stocked haci- that they look to this man who governs enda where there are Indians to spare, them as children do to a father, and he is pay the debts of such as he selects, there- in reality their friend, protector, guide, by transferring the Indian, with his obli- watching over them in health, caring for gation and its attendant bond of servi- them tenderly in sickness. The patrons tude, from one master to another. Some- children romp and play with those of the times an Indians debt will amount to sev- gentes; and the latter, even when they en hundred soles.* have become great lubberly boys and In all this it has not been intended to full-grown girls, may often be heard ad- imply that the dons of eastern Peru are dressing the patrons wife as mama. cruel masters, nor that the Indians are Every morning the whole troop of unhappy. Perhaps a realization of his men engaged upon the hacienda passes condition flashes across the Indian mind the patrons porch, each one saluting at times. In fact now and then he gath- him with a pleasant buenos dias, pausing * This system of peonageis much the same a moment until the greeting has been re- in many parts of Spanish America. turned, and the customary cup of aguar THE PREFECT 5 PALACE AND THE CALLE DEL MALEcON, IQUTTOS. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 118 d ~ente has been bestowed; at night a similar exchange of salutations takes place upon the close of work. All day long the men are busy in the cane-fields, in the distillery, or in the banana or- chard; the women, when not occupied with culinary duties, sit and weave won- derful hammocks, mats, and hats of palm fibre, or pass now and again in a long procession to the river, whence they bring great jars of water poised upon their heads; while the don, having made his tour of inspection, reclines at ease, whif- flug the fragrant tobacco of Tarapoto. So they jog on through life together, mast.~r and slave, happy, contented, and scarce dreaming how unique is their way of ex- istence in this century of liberty. It is an inheritance from the days of Spanish ascendency not to be extiuguished by the mere decree of a republican govern- ment; but fortunately the population of eastern Peru is so small that the present system will necessarily give way before that vigorous growth to which this coun- try is destined in the approaching years, when the home-seeking millions of Eu rope have discovered the opportunities of fortune afforded here in the culture of rubber, rice, and sugar in the low alluvial lands along the rivers, and of coffee, cot- ton, cereals, and fruits of temperate climes in the valleys among the foot-hills of the mountains. Signs of progress are not many as yet not very visible certainly upon first entrance into East Peru. The forces of civilization seem not to have stirred deep- ly these Amazonian solitudes. But first impressions are often treacherous, and visible signs are sometimes an evidence of spent forces, beyond which there is less- to be hoped for. In concrete attainment the field here is still altogether an open one; in intellectual acquisitions, how- ever, the best class of the East Peruvians have emerged from the glimmerings of dawnlight into somewhat of the clear- ness of day. It is unsafe to presume upon the ignorance of these dons. Many a stranger who has thought to teach them how the outer world thinks and does ha ended by receivin~ additional informa- tion upon the same subject in return, conpled with reasons why snch princi- ples cannot at present be applied on lati- tnde four degrees south. In Iquitos, a. city of six thousand inhabitants, is on& private library of over two thousand vol- umes, and several others numbering their tomes by the hundreds. In Yurimaguas. are other goodly collections of books. At every hacienda is a treasured shelf full Cervantes, Quevedo, perhaps a transla- tion of Shakespeare, of Alexandre Dumas, a history of Peru, and works of travel. No mere ornaments are these, but verita- ble companions of the long lonely spaces of time. They are not only read, but studied, penetrated! A BANANA rLANTATIoN. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 119 The monthly steainboa ts Corning from Pars bring news and the latest periodical literature from Spain, Por- tugal, England, and Francealas, not from the United States as yet. From hand to hand these monthly acces- ~ions pass, until they become dissemi- nated throughout the entire breadth of these five hundred miles of Mon- tafia. The steamboats have done more. Through that extension of trade which they have induced, small though it has been, the people have been brought in touch with the great centres of European ci vilization, and have been educated to European meth- ods in many matters by the friction of commercial relations, until they realize their own shortcomings, la- ment them, hope to see them eradi- cated by-and-by. They have not yet at- tempted entrance upon the domain of the arts. They are making money now; laying the foundations of estates. They but sparingly introduce the picturesque into their architecture, although the Portuguese type of structure, creeping up the river from Brazil, has feebly assert- ed itself, as far as the materials at hand will allow. The Spanish idea appears also, especially at Yurimaguas, nearer the mountains. Here are the great porches, the balconies, the open galleries letting a bit of light through the corner of a house, just under the red-tile roof; the pretty in- ner court, or patio, filled with tropical verdure. The pollen of Indian influence has modified the exotic taste at times, where the house resembles the palm- thatched qaincha, and is decorated on the interior with palm-leaf mats fastened upon the walls, with the horizontally fluted huicunqo-palm posts at the door- ways, and above them gratings of palm slats lashed together by vines, forming combinations of grace well worthy of im- itation in other lands. Upon extraordi- nary occasions, when a dinner is to be A CHOLA GIRL, IQUITOs. 120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. HOUSE IN YURIMAGUAS. given, they bring from the forests masses of the lon~ green fronds of the palm, vines all aflame with pink and scarlet blossom, and the rich umbrella-shaped pawpaw, and cpnvert the banquet-room into a bower of fairylike beauty. At such times the finer talent of the people discovers itself. You find assembled a company of men who possess the grace and eloquence of oratory, the refinement and subtle penetration of poesy, whose vords flow with an ease and finish, and whose illustrations and allusions are drawn from an amplitude of re- source, which be- speak a broader culture than you might anticipate. Here will be heard enthusiastic odes singing of the monarch of rivers rocked by the Genius of the An- des in a silver cra- dIe, wearing the volcanos lurid light for a dia- dem; next plun- ging into pessim- ism, bewailing the hardships of exist- ence, or framing a sarcastic summary of life in such a couplet as this: The man first re- spires, then aspires, Sighs next, and anon he expires.~* Again a better spir- it exalts man to the height of a demi- god, or, suffused with a~ sense of the sweetness of human sympathy, proclaims: Charity, it is thy name Fills the soul with hrightest flame! Thou leadesm science to nohle endeavor; On gleaming pinions, forever inquiet, Thou sweetly hearest to re~ions celestial, And tbou wreathest with palms Him who hatli rapture of music, the Poet! Thou too art mother to motherless children, And to wandrers who roam. Thou hindeth concord and love with glad fetters; Thine is the hand which an evil lot hetters; Thou art the crown on the queen of the home !t Pedago~y has had its share in educa- ting the inhabitants of the Montafia working in a languid manner, not going deep into anything. Pedagogy, not sup- plemented by adequate books here, must content itself, consequently, with merest rudiments, and those stirred up into a weak emulsion with fanciful stories strange rhapsodical text-books, resulting, as one might presuppose, in filling the young mind with vagaries, in creating a thirst for knowled~e without quench * Simon Martinez Jzquierdo. ~ Leopoldo Cortes. / II V SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 121 ing it. Ever and again the departing traveller is besought by his host to send him a good history of the world a new geography, or some long-wished- for classic volume. In the towns are schools of considerable size, supported by taxation, aided by small fees from the pa- trons, heralded always by the conspicu- ous sign, Escuela de la Municipalidad, a circumstance of some importance in it- self, keeping before the eyes of all the fact that education is a matter of public concern, is a thing desirable, and, such as it is, easily obtainable. Further advertise- ment of a schools existence is afforded when in session by the vociferous babel of a hundred or more brown little young- sters vying with each other in proofs of application, which proofs seem to consist m studying lessons aloud. Each chacra also has its school, usually instituted and maintained by the dofia, and here again the orthodox scholastic babel breaks the stillness which else reigns like a drowsy Sabbath. The common Indian is but a savage with some of the tricks of civilization, a house-builder, a plant- er of maize and yucca, a weaver of cloth and of hammocks, a fashioner of works of the fictile art of surprising beauty. With- out turn-table, simply by a feeling for correct form, are these jars, nrns, dishes built up by hand with wooden spatulas. The decoration has become thoronglily conventional- ized, crystallized, in fact, into a type of Eesthetic ex- pression which may truly be designated art. Pre- dominant is the old clas- sic form of fret and chev- ron, executed in subdued reds and deep browns npon a gray or creamy ground. Sometimes the leading design is in very heavy lines, with the ground filled in with an exquisitely delicate tra- cery of similar patterns. The plant life of the for- ests is also reproduced vines not rudely deline ated, but formin~, definite curves, spring- ing upward at the end of the pattern, and expanding into the calyx which holds the conventionalized type of a corolla, now a yellow five-rayed star, again a pink-flush- ed lilys cup, or a sky-blue pendent bell. The artistic spirit displayed in these re- calls the wonderful works of Inca art ex- humed at the noted necropolis of Ancon. The same is true of their textile fabrics. Here are the same complicated designs, the same rich coloring, worked out in cotton, and in the fibre of the chainbira- palm. Of the latter are made bags, call- ed jicaras, and mammoth hammocks, which are, in fact, only great sqnare close- ly woven lustrous pieces of cloth, with stripes and simple designs in various soft shades of yellow, brown, and red. The Indian, again, manifests his appre- ciation of graceful form in the rounded ends of his quincha, which give an effec- tive curve to the palm - thatched roof. A NATIVE DISTILLERY, SAN LORENzO. 122 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. More curious still is the advance which, as a savage, he has made from a love of mere rhythmic sound to the production of true melodies, richly modulated, and often bearing in their strain a wail of melan- choly so pathetically suggestive that, as you hear an Indian mother crooning them to her babe in these mighty wastes, where Nature, with all her bounty, has yet left man so poor, they seem to be telling the coming generations the mournful history of the struggles and emptiness of the past. Others have the rollicking spirit of rev- elry, and are indeed used in festal dances. The Indians employ the plaintive songs also in the more solemn ceremonies of the Church, and the tunes of the ancient war- dance are incongruously added as a finale to the celebration of religious feasts. Oa these occasions the Indian population ar- rays itself in the splendor of gay feathers and painted faces; pandean pipes and snare-drums (indigenous here as in other parts of the world) furnish the music, while all dance in circles and bawl songs in the intervals between draughts of mad- dening ruin. The hideous countenances, in which the fire of liquor is heightened by the flush of scarlet paint, the brilliant head-dresses of macaws wings, and these antique musical instruments make one almost instinctively look for the satyrs cloven hoof, and the mipd is driven to marvel what could have been the labors of the early missionaries; whether these, and such as these, are types of the cris- tiarios they produced! It is much to be feared that these are indeed the very sort. But, however paltry the effects of the early missions may appear, it is interest- ing to note that at the present day far more than half of the native population of eastern Peru, having nominally become Christian, has entirely and forever ceased its ancient cannibalistic habitsa moral gain of considerable magnitude; that it has also come to look upon the Church as its guide, which means that, with the help- ful influence of an increasing white popu- lation, it will be found amenable to higher principles when these shall be strongly preached to it. That these people did not long ago become better men may appear not justly chargeable to the old padres, upon reviewing the history of these Mis- sions of Mamas, as they were formerly called. It may appear that these old padres, whatever faults they may have to answer for, had at least a rational theory of converting the race, which their suc- cessors did not carry out. The first entrance into Mamas was made by Gouzalo Pizarro and Francisco Ore- liana in 1540. The latter, with his com- pany, two friars among them feebly pro- testing, deserted Pizarro, and passed down the Rio Napo, and thence to the sea by way of the Amazon; fighting, conquer- ing, leaving a very bad impression of A JIcARA. 5PECIMEN OF NATIVE rOTTERY. LULLABY. ,~ Andante Cantabile. ____ ________ __ ZIIIIIIIZ-4~[:~ __ - ____ ~ L~_________ ~ ________ 2~- ~ ~ I ~ I I ___ ___ __ ____ ,~ ~ ___ ___ ___ ~ ~4fl4~ ~____ ______t~.__-~~-~-~~L ___________________ - Fed. Fed. Fed. I. V2.______ 7 ______ ______ __ __ __ __ __ -- ____z41] ~ZIN__ ~ ___ ___ __ _________ ___ ____~~~_-~-t-~--~V-- ~ ______ Ped. Fed. Fed. Ped. Fed. - ~ Ped.j FESTAL SONG. Allegretto. :ii~b.q ___ _______________________ y -~ .------ -~ __ white men behind them. Pizarro and his followers retreated to Quito, amid starva- tion, fevers, running ulcers, mishaps, and miseries so dire that for sixty-two years the memory of it discouraged further ef- fort to explore to the eastward of mighty Cotopaxi. Meantime fable filled this un- known land with the romance of warrior women and the gilded cities of El Dorado. Then Padre Rafael Ferrer, of the coni- pany of Jesuits, being curious to ex- plore, went alone over the mountains, dc~wn the Napo to the Amazon, and back again to Quito, with news of what he had seen. The kindling imaginations of civilian and ecclesiastic were further fanned by a company of soldiers who, in 1616, becoming embroiled with the Ind- ians at Santiago de las Montaflas, fled down the Rio Marafion, or Amazon, shot the rapids of the Pongo de Manseriche, and presently got back to the coast, where they told of wonderful riches in Mamas and of Indians who desired to be Chris- tians. Accordingly in 1631 the Fran- ciscans sent Friar Felipe Luyendo to the upper waters of the Rio Huallaga, where lie made a faint impression. Padre Domingo de Brieda and Padre Andres de Toledo, of the same order, with Captain Juan de Palacios and a few soldiers, set forth into this wilderness in 1635, wandered awhile in uninhabited regions, suffered unspeakable horrors, were abandoned by a large part of their company, and at length made good their escape to Par~. The previous year, however, Mamas was first fairly laid hold of by the Spaniards, when the town of Borja was founded by Don Diego Baca de Vega, under a charter from Don Francisco de Borja, then Vice- roy of Peru, and two years later Padre Gaspar de Cuxia and Padre Lucas de Cueva, Jesuits, began their labors here. The site was one unsurpassed for beauty in the entii-e leno~th of the basin of the Amazon. The blue Andes rose from the very edge of the village, the river swept past in front, while the roar of the floods rushing throu~h the narrow gorge of Manseriche mingled with the chanting of psalms by the fathers. About this time, 1637, the Portuguese, whose hostility to the Spanish yoke was growing more intense, cast a jealous eye towards Mamas, and he despatched the fearless Captain Pedro Texeira up the Amazon, up the Napo, over the snowy Andes to Quito, and back once more over the same route to Pars a daring enterprise, but less remarkable, consid- ering his excellent equipment of forty- seven large canoes. Padre Andre de Ar- tieda and Padre Cristoval de Acufia went with him on the return voya,,e, studied the country and people, passed on to 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Spain, and tried, with the help of a writ- ten narrative of the journey, to enlist government aid for the missions begun at Borja. Government, however, was very busy just then with the Portuguese war, and paid no heed to the poor Jesuits, granted them not so much as an audience even. Artieda, bent on doing something, it seems, hastened back to South Ameri- ca, listed himself with the Quito Audi- encia re-entered Mamas by way of Bor- ja, and founded the mission of Omaguas in 1643. Acufia tarried at the court un- til, seeing no prospect of peace, he fol- lowed Artieda, but died on the road at Lima. The missions prospered amaz- ingly, and the Colegio de Quito was in- duced to send two more workers in 1648, Padre Bartolome Peres and Padre Fran- cisco Figueroa. Not enough! Padre Cuxia runs to Quito in person, awak- ens the colegio from its lethargy, re- turns with three recruits and the promise of others. Within the next fifteen years the mis- sions increased to thirteen in all, many of them in charge of new men, who had arrived with protests from Spain because the fathers accommodated the religion to the customs of the natives. The old veterans argued poco ~ poco be not too fast; in time wheat will occupy the place of the tares; remember these are savages! But the effort at reconstruction proceeded until one fatal day in 1666, when the Cocamas revolted, painted their faces, and set out on a tour of destruc- tion. Old Padre Figueroa hastened to check them, trusting in the mere force of courage; met them on the big sand bar at the mouth of the Rio Huallaga; was re- ceived with kisses on the hand, while one fierce fellow slipped behind, and al- most severed Figueroas head from his body by a blow with a sharp - edged paddle. Thus eighteen years of heroic work were ended, and with the fall of Figueroa, and the subsequent slaugh- ter of priests and faithful converts in other parts, the missions were almost demoralized. The Governor of Borja, however, wisely refrained from sending soldiers to punish the Cocamas, but in 1667 Padre Pedro Suarez came across the mountains, and was sent to relieve Padre Guells, who had been working among the Abigiras along the Napo. The great wilderness, with all its hard- ships, seems like a lovely garden of de light, lie wrote, soon after his arrival. He sought to instil civilization into the Indians, brought them various tools to work with, taught old and young, was very zealous in divesting them of barba- rism, and was killed and feasted on with- in a year. It became a remarkable case, being the first reversion to cannibalism among the missions. The Governor sent soldiers, hung the chief nien, and things begaii to go badly, with much blood-letting every where. Padre Lucas was made Superior at Archidona, on the Napo, to try and straighten out affairs there, but with small success. Padre Ge- ronimo Alvarez, who had renounced es- tate aiid title in Valladolid to become a missionary, entered in 1670 by the Rio Pastassa, a hard route. After two years of wretched wan den n g, threading track- less forests, wading perilous streams, sleeping on the bare cold ground, his clothing ever wet from constant showers, suffering the horrors of starvation, de- voured by ulcers, lie reached Borja at last, only to die of fever. Padre Raimun- do de Saiita Cruz, following the same route, through distresses grievous to con- template, undertook, by cutting a path from the Pastassa to the Napo, for the sake of bringing the growing centres of the work, Borja and Archidona, into closer communication, to give greater se- curity to the missionsa creditable per- formancehaving finished which, he was drowned by the capsizing of his canoe. Disasters succeeded each other rapid- ly, and, amid other discouragements, the small-pox ravaged all the tribes of Mamas, the deaths within nine years being stated at sixty-four thousand. Up to 1681 twenty priests had lost their lives in the Montaiia, and only four remained. No more work- ers would be sent. Spain regarded nearly all the South American missions with dis- favor, and money was hard to get. Ship- masters also objected to carry priests; would lie in port for months rather than accept such passengers; and would finally set sail with them only under compulsion of the Kings soldiery. At length came a remarkable man, Padre Samuel Fritz, by birth a Bohemian, who was a physician, mathematician, painter, carpenter, and joiner, as well as a devout and earnest priest. Profiting by the xvords of the vet- erans, he sought only to gain the sym- pathy and affection of the Indians, hoping for better fruits in the generations to come. SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF EASTERN PERU. 125 He visited every hut of the Omaguas tribe; knew every man, woman, and child of them by name; went to the outlying tribes, and did the same there; enlarged his work so that finally he had time to visit each settlement only once a year. His health failing, lie went to Pars to recruit; was sent by the Paraenses against his will to Portugal; was received there with distinc- tion, and returned with a royal escort of soldiers, which accompanied him all the way to Mamas. Arrived at Omaguas, his escort suddenly disclosed its true object by claiming the land in the name of the King of Portugal. Upon the unfurling of the Portuguese flag, Padre Fritz fled down the bank and pushed off in a canoe, taking refu~e in the forests, until the usurpers, unable to obtain food from the Indians after such an episode, were forced to re- treat. Fritz at once started to appeal for aid from the Viceroy of Peru, crossed the Andes by way of Moyobamba, Chacha- poyas, arid Cajamarca, and surprised the people of Lima with his account of the thriving miss ions. The Viceroy, Conde de la Monclova, entertained him with courtesy, but after some days announced, as the Montafia prospers the King no- thin~, it is not meet to waste his resources in protecting it.~ Poor Fritz, dishearten- ed, but devoted to his chosen work, deter- mined to make this neglected region bet- ter known, to which end lie crossed the Andes to Jaen, and made a map of the Amazon from that point, and of such other parts of South America as he knew from experience and from accounts which he deemed trustworthy, which map was pub- lished in Quito in 1707. and long re- mained the standard. Finally he re- turned to Mamas, where he lived and labored until 1730, when, at the good 01(1 age of eighty, he died at Jeberos, honored as the faithful apostle to the Ornaguas. After his death the spirit of the old padres seems to have disappeared, and a new era began. The Franciscans had entered from the south in 1657, under Padre Man uel Biednia, but their missions were destroyed by an uprising of the Conibos in 1686. In 1745 the King of Spain ordered an in- vestigation of the condition of the missions of Mamas, and sent out a company of Jesu- its to revive them. The newarrivals either returned disheartened by a condition of things which they considered hopeless, or, by reason of their ignorance of the ways of dealing with the Indians, got speedily killed. Thus ended what is known as the third missionary epoch of the Montafia. The Portuguese invaded the country from time to time, when there was nothing more heroic to be thought of, aiid many sanguinary con- flicts followed. Corninu nication became less and less across the mountains, and more frequent with Parii. The priests lost enthusiasm for a work which the world cared nothing about. They went their rounds mechanically from village to village performing the sacramental offices, and receivin~,, fees in salt fish, sarsaparihla, copal, and other products of the country. There was beginning to be a market for these thin~s in Park. When the canoe was full, they had only to float down the river to convert this raw material into cash. Priestcraft de- generated into a sordid business, barter- ing time administration of sacraments for salt fish. In earlier days Padre Acufia refused to give a crucifix to a chieftain, fearing lest supernatural powers should be attributed to it; the later priests used the superstition of the natives for their own worldly profit. The Indian always took a vigorous hold upon what was tangible in religionthe symbol stripped of its significance. When the Francis- can friars Salcedo and San Jose tried in 1760 to re-establish the missions founded by Biedma, which had been destroyed in 1686, they found the sava~es still imi- tating baptism by sprinkling the heads of new-born babes with lime juice! Peruvian law and the influence of steamboats have co-operated to abolish the merchant priests of former years, and a reaction is taking place. The young Peruvian, learning somewhat of philoso- phy and moral systems, laughs at a re- ligion of the heart. An Omars song to wine, wine, wine, with a golden thread of wisdom, a coruscation of a gay conceit, and a lurking shadow of the occult, too nearly fills the sum of his souls needs. After a deeper experience of life lie be- comes conscious of the spirituality which lies at the centre of being, but feels that it has lost vitality through the kind of formal interpretation which he habitual- ly sees. He has not, however, arrived at that plane where he has courage to cast off allegiance to the Church. Accord- ingly lie supplements the old creed with a new mystery of spiritualism. This strange belief is gaining ground each 126 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. day, and its advocates point with pride to the United States as the source whence proceeded this new light for needy souls alas! point to Boston as one of its glo- rious centres of propagation! The Indian remains stationary, ignorant of the spirituality of religion, failing to appreciate the principle of sacrifice of self-will which it involves. Material sac- rifice can scarcely enter into his experi- ence, for he possesses practically nothing, and continual fasting is one of the condi- tions of his existence; consequently it is the feast which appeals most to him, and this he converts into an orgy. The mer- chant priests were too engrossed in mak- ing a fair profit out of baptisms to attend to spiritual culture, and the dream of the Cuxias, Fi~,ueroas, Fritzes to work a reformation through the childrenwas never realized. The people, Indians and cholos, reasoned in some measure also, and be~,,an to take their chances of death and hell, postponing baptisms and mar- riages as long as they chose. If it was all ri~,ht to take a wife and wait a year until a padre should happen to come along to marry them, why not wait two years, ten years? The opportunity for separations by delaying the irrevocable seal of the Church is thus left open, and family re- lations, as a natural outgrowth of this license, are often very, unstable in the Montafia. Efforts at reform are now making among certain Peruvian and English Catholics resident there, and the old as- cetic spirit has been reinstated among the fathers of the Ucayali. It remains to be seen what good they may accomplish. These Indians with whom they must deal are a peculiar people. In the most de- graded there is still a gleam of some in- telligence, of a power which is to him a beacon - light. The eye has ~lepth; the mouth seems set to preserve an inner secret of the Indian life, and of the way the uni- verse reveals itself to his consciousness. The Inca conquering him could make an Inca of him; the Spaniard has never turned him into a Spaniard. Although he has abandoned the more atrocious practices of his former barbarism, in all else he continues to follow the prehistoric groove. He bears a Christian name, he bows before the cross, but nature is God to him, as to the pre-Columbian savage, and he remains an Indian still. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. BY F. B. MILLET. V. ROM the heights of Belgrade we had I seen the blue summits of mountains far away to the south, the outlying spurs of the great Carpathian range, and hav- ing threaded a tortuous way through the great Hungarian plain, we now looked forward with exhilaration to the rugged scenery we were soon to enjoy, and were eager to welcome a change in the hori- zon. We saw on the map no town of imuportance between the Servian frontier and Orsova, at the Iron Gates, and since we were not unwilling to have a little quiet after so many days of excitement among novelties of type and costume, we noticed with satisfaction as we went along that the fiat shore on the Hungarian side and the low hills opposite offered us no temp- tation to land. To be sure, we were still in some doubt as to our probable recep- tion in a Servian village, for Belgrade was the only Servian place we had visit- ed, and we could not judge from our ex- perience at the capital what might hap- pen if we went ashore in a remote town. We had heard many tales of the difficul- ties of travelling in the remote districts of Servia, and had provided ourselves pith passports properly visded in many uages. As we had no occasion to snow them in Belgrade, we now began to have somne curiosity about their use- fulness, and we contemplated going ashore at a Servian village for rio better reason than to test this question. But before we found an attractive landing- place, we saw, far below us in the dis- tance, about noon on the day after leav- ing the frontier, what appeared to be a curious row of buildings on the low Servian shore, stretching out into the river like piers of a great railway bridge, or a line of grain-elevators. At first we thought it was mirage, which so frequent-

F. D. Millet Millet, F. D. From The Black Forest To The Black Sea 126-146

126 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. day, and its advocates point with pride to the United States as the source whence proceeded this new light for needy souls alas! point to Boston as one of its glo- rious centres of propagation! The Indian remains stationary, ignorant of the spirituality of religion, failing to appreciate the principle of sacrifice of self-will which it involves. Material sac- rifice can scarcely enter into his experi- ence, for he possesses practically nothing, and continual fasting is one of the condi- tions of his existence; consequently it is the feast which appeals most to him, and this he converts into an orgy. The mer- chant priests were too engrossed in mak- ing a fair profit out of baptisms to attend to spiritual culture, and the dream of the Cuxias, Fi~,ueroas, Fritzes to work a reformation through the childrenwas never realized. The people, Indians and cholos, reasoned in some measure also, and be~,,an to take their chances of death and hell, postponing baptisms and mar- riages as long as they chose. If it was all ri~,ht to take a wife and wait a year until a padre should happen to come along to marry them, why not wait two years, ten years? The opportunity for separations by delaying the irrevocable seal of the Church is thus left open, and family re- lations, as a natural outgrowth of this license, are often very, unstable in the Montafia. Efforts at reform are now making among certain Peruvian and English Catholics resident there, and the old as- cetic spirit has been reinstated among the fathers of the Ucayali. It remains to be seen what good they may accomplish. These Indians with whom they must deal are a peculiar people. In the most de- graded there is still a gleam of some in- telligence, of a power which is to him a beacon - light. The eye has ~lepth; the mouth seems set to preserve an inner secret of the Indian life, and of the way the uni- verse reveals itself to his consciousness. The Inca conquering him could make an Inca of him; the Spaniard has never turned him into a Spaniard. Although he has abandoned the more atrocious practices of his former barbarism, in all else he continues to follow the prehistoric groove. He bears a Christian name, he bows before the cross, but nature is God to him, as to the pre-Columbian savage, and he remains an Indian still. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. BY F. B. MILLET. V. ROM the heights of Belgrade we had I seen the blue summits of mountains far away to the south, the outlying spurs of the great Carpathian range, and hav- ing threaded a tortuous way through the great Hungarian plain, we now looked forward with exhilaration to the rugged scenery we were soon to enjoy, and were eager to welcome a change in the hori- zon. We saw on the map no town of imuportance between the Servian frontier and Orsova, at the Iron Gates, and since we were not unwilling to have a little quiet after so many days of excitement among novelties of type and costume, we noticed with satisfaction as we went along that the fiat shore on the Hungarian side and the low hills opposite offered us no temp- tation to land. To be sure, we were still in some doubt as to our probable recep- tion in a Servian village, for Belgrade was the only Servian place we had visit- ed, and we could not judge from our ex- perience at the capital what might hap- pen if we went ashore in a remote town. We had heard many tales of the difficul- ties of travelling in the remote districts of Servia, and had provided ourselves pith passports properly visded in many uages. As we had no occasion to snow them in Belgrade, we now began to have somne curiosity about their use- fulness, and we contemplated going ashore at a Servian village for rio better reason than to test this question. But before we found an attractive landing- place, we saw, far below us in the dis- tance, about noon on the day after leav- ing the frontier, what appeared to be a curious row of buildings on the low Servian shore, stretching out into the river like piers of a great railway bridge, or a line of grain-elevators. At first we thought it was mirage, which so frequent- FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 127 ly deceived us by its distortion of forms and the twenty-three great square tower and exaggeration of heights, but as we show remarkably few signs of decay, paddled on against the wind we soon saw and, with the exception of the destruction it was a collection of solid architectural of the wooden platforms, are almost as forms. It was, however, only when we sound as the day they were bnilt. Here were within a mile or so of the town that and there an inscription, or a fragment of we recognized in what we had taken to be a statue built into the walls, proves that a modern landmark the hnge towers and the importance of the town dates as far walls of the great medkeval citadel of Se- back as the Roman occupation, when this mendria, rising i all their ancient digni- was undoubtedly one of a series of strong- ty from the very waters of the Danube, holds along the river. The barracks of and overtopping with their masses of solid the Servian garrison which stand in the niasonry the little town modestly nestling great enclosure appear like huts in corn- in the shadow of the great fortress. Of parison with the immense towers and recent years Sernendria has become of high walls of the medi~val structure commercial importance as a shipping-port and a regiment of infantry may be quite for grain, and when we entered the town lost sight of among the tangled bushe its narrow streets were blocked by hun- and the thick foliage of the trees which dreds of laden ox-carts, all patiently wa~~- cover a large part of the ground. From ing their turn at the public scales, wI the top of one of the great towers we saw the weight of the grain is guaranteed by below and before us a panorama of va- the town officers before it is delivered to ned beanty, extending from the heights of the lighters. Through a motley crowd Belgrade to the Carpathian range, faint- of Servians in barbaric fur caps, red sash- ly shadowed in the distance beyond the es, rawhide sandals, and the coarsest of glittering expanse of the Danube, which homespun garments, we made our way spreads out into great broad reaches, with to the fortress. The great walls enclose nunierous islands, and, like its smaller self a triangular space of ten or twelve acres, among the mountains of Baden, pauses occupying the whole of a low point be- and gathers volume and strength for the tween the river Jessava and the Danube. dash into the great gorge that cleave The apex of the triangle at the junction of the jagged mass of mountains for fifty the rivers is a citadel of great strength, miles or more before again resuming its and still in wonderful preservation. In- quiet flow. As we went away from Se- deed, the walls of the whole enclosure niendria the chief of police was among 5EMENnRJA. 128 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the party assembled to see us off, and an apparently impassable chain of moun- here, we thought, was the oppoitunity to tains-this time the real Carpathians. see whether our passports would be hon- As we crossed the river from llama ored. We offered them to the official, toward the cluster of houses on the wa- modestly at first, but he would not even ters edge at Bazias, we observed that look at the envelopes, the little village, dwarfed to insignifi- But they are our passports, we urged. cance by the towering hills above it. They cost us a lot of money and trou- was all gay with flags. On closer ap- ble, and if no official looks at them they proach we distinguished near the land- will be wasted, for they are only good for ing the form of a low gray vessel quite one year ! unlike any craft we had hitherto seen. But he resolutely declined to have any- This proved to be an Austrian gunboat, thing to do with them, although we in- and the occasion of the display of bunt- creased the urgency of our request al- ing was the birthday of the Emperor most to the strength of a demand, and Francis Joseph. As we drifted down we left quite ready to believe the state- toward the man-of-war we hoisted all the ment of a scoffing friend in Bnda-Pesth, flags we had, and as we were passing in who declared that any one could travel review with all the dignity we could the whole length of the Danube with no command, we were startled by the loud more of a passport than a restaurant bill report of a champagne cork pointed in of fare, which would satisfy the officials our direction, and fired, as it were, across as well as the best parchment with signa- our bows. We surrendered at once and tures and seals. unconditionally, and exchanged cards At Bazias, on the Hungarian side of with a group of officers celebrating the the river, the terminus of the railway Emperors birthday on the quarter-deck. from Temesv~r, and the point where the We found our captivity so little irksome tourist usually takes a steamer for the that we willingly prolonged it until we trip through the Kasan Defile and the were admonished by the position of the Iron Gates, there is nothing on shore sun in the heavens that we must be off more interesting than a railway restau- if we would reach the entrance to the rant, but the landscape is very grand and Carpathian gorge before dark. Our haste beautiful. The hills completely mask was due to no more cogent reason than the course of the river as the traveller ambition to begin the fight with the nv- approaches them from up stream, and the er at the so-called cataracts. These ob- fine ruin of the castle llama, on the Ser- structions had been described to us by vian side, seems to stand on the shore of friends who had made the journey in a a large lake with a southern boundary of steamer as extremely dangerous, and, as great mountains. From llama the river we neared the mountains, all the river- sweeps majestically around to the south men we talked with warned us of the past Bazias, and narrows somewhat as it perils of the stream below, and advised winds among the first great foot-hills of us on no account to attempt the passage the mountain range, spreading out after of the cataracts without a pilot. But we a few miles into another lakelike reach, could not forget the collapse of the Stru- which in turn has on its southern horizon del and Wirbel bugbear in the upper river, and could not bring our- selves to appre- hend any great danger in rapids where steamers are constantly passing up and . down with loaded lighters in tow. Even our new- found friends on - the gun-boat,who had just made RAMA. the trip, caution- FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 129 ed us not to attempt the passage in our frail canoes, and took great pains to show us the dangerous points on their charts. Of course the more we heard of these terrors to navigation the more eager we became to look upon them ourselves, The last words our naval advisers said to us, as we regretfully left them, was to be sure to take a pilot at Drenkova, the last steamboat landing above the rapids. From the broad reach just belowBazias the whole horizon to the south and east appears to be a solid wall of rocky heights, and is without a break visible to the eye. For about twenty miles the river winds gently across a pleasant valley, divides around a large island, and then sweeps straight down toward the huge barrier, which extends to the right and left as far as the eye can see. As we paddled along in the quiet current past the Servian town of Gra- diste, and came nearer and nearer to the mass of rugged peaks which cut sharply against the sky, we grew more and more impatient to discover the course of the river through the chain, and unconscious- ly increased the rapidity and the force of our stroke until we sped along as if pad- dling a race. Suddenly, as we were pass- ing the end of the large island, the land- scape opened to the eastward like the shifting scenes on a stage, and the river, sweeping past a high isolated rock in mid-stream, was seen to plunge with ac- celerated speed directly into a narrow cleft between immense limestone cliffs, and to disappear in the depths of the gorge. Guarding the entrance to this de- file, the ruin of the castle of Golub~, on the Servian shore, piles its towers high on a spur which juts out boldly over the river, and shades a pleasant little green meadow by the water-side. Along the Hungarian bank the famous highway of Count Svichenyi, leading from the town of Moldova just above to Orsova, at the Roumanian frontier, shows the straight line of its cuttings and embankments but a few feet above the water. The smooth perpendicular cliffs are perforated by numerous caverns, one of which tradi- tion has marked as the place whence issue the swarms of vicious flies which persecute the cattle in the summer- time. The green meadow under Golub~ in- vited us to a pleasant camp, for night was fast coming on as we finished our sketching, and we were loath to leave GOLUB~& 9. the charming, romantic spot. But one of our party, unable to resist the impulse to penetrate the gathering gloom of the defile, had drifted on and was lost to sight. The whole sky was tinged with the coppery red of sunset when we set out to overtake him. The river whirled and rushed and wrestled with our pad- dles as we floated on into the deepening twilight. Now and then a great boiling under our very keels would throw us out of our course and make the light canoes bound along with an unfamiliar and disturbing motion. On and on we went, unable longer to see a map, and with no means of determining where and when we should come upon the dangerous rap- ids and whirlpools that lay somewhere in our path. Frequent camp fires spar- kled at the waters edge, and from one to another we paddled, waking the echoes with the shrill notes of our whistles, un- til at last, just as we had concluded to give up the search, certain that we had passed our companion in the darkness we heard his welcome hail, and were soon in camp. The plaintive song of a peasant girl, spinning from a distaff as she walked through the rustling maize-field behind our camp, brought us to our feet long be- fore we had slept off the effects of our sixty nules paddle of the day before; and, ea~,,er to be at the rapids, we ate a hasty breakfast and were off down the ~~~-~=-- 6 130 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. reach,very like the Hudson in scenery, to the little coaling-station of Drenkova. We trimmed our canoes with unusual care, tested our paddles, stowed away all loose articles, and put everything in fight- ing trim. Although we did not propose to undergo the humiliation of following a pilot through the rapids, we thought it best to take all reasonable means to find the best channel, and we therefore land- ed at Drenkova and consulted the agent of the steamship company there. He could give us but very few directions which were of any use, but offered us a pilot, and advised us strongly not to at- tempt the passage alone. But the sight of puffing steamers slowly dragging loaded barges up the stream was to our minds satisfactory proof of the nature of the obstructions, and, a little impatient at the delay, we pushed off, followed~ by repeated cautions and confused direc- tions. Just below Drenkova the Danube bends to the south, and niakes its first angry dash over the ledges of rock that stretch between the sheer cliffs on the Servian side and the rocky, wooded heights oppo- site. The iiver was about the average height on the day we went down, and no rocks showed above the surface. A strong head-wind so disturbed the water that we were unable to judge of the run of the currents, nor exactly tell where the rap- ids really were until we were in the midst of them. To add to our difficulties, sev- eral steamers were towing up stream, and the wash from their paddles, necessary to be avoided at all times, increased the tur- moil of the rushing waters. There was nothing to do, then, but to take our own course far enough away to avoid the steamer wash, if possible, and still near enough the main channel to escape the whirlpools, which we had been told were the greatest dangers of the passage. Be- tween this Scylla and Charybdis the way was not easy, but we paddled steadily forward, breasting the waves, throwing spray mast - high, and plunging along with great speed. Suddenly between two of the canoes a great vortex ap- peared, and with giddy revolving motion seemed to rush on viciously in chase of the foremost boat. Never were paddles used with greater vigor or better skill, and the dainty crafts swept gracefully around on the outer ring of the whirl- pool, just out of reach of the resistless clutch of the swirl, until the yawning vortex gradually closed up again and its force was idly spent. The Danube had given us a notion of what it might do if trifled with. A second rapid followed the first, not far below it, at the end of a broad reach surrounded by high mountains, and al- though we were not conscious of any great increase in the speed of the current, we heard in a few moments the roar of the Greben rapids, the longest and most difficult of navigation above those at the Iron Gates. As we came near we saw a line of white water reaching across from shore to shore, apparently without a break. We were speedily approaching this rang of tossing waves, where jets of glittering spray flew high in the air, when we for- tunately saw a steamer passin~ up near the Servian shore, and paddled rapidly across to find the channel, where we would be less likely to meet the only en- emy we fearedthe whirlpools. Before we had time to deliberate on the best pas- sage amon~, the rocks we were in the midst of the tumbling, dashing waters, and almost before we caught our breath again we were in a comparatively still pool un- der the immense crag of Greben, which, pushing far out into the stream and nar- rowing the channel causes the current to flow with great swiftness over the jagged ledges of rock that dani the river at this point. In our exhilarating dashes through the waves we had not shipped a spoonful of water, although our decks had been constantly awash, even to the very top of the coamings. As we neared the last pitch of the river at this point we had acquired such confidence in our canoes that we dashed boldly into the roughest of the leaping waves, fired with enthusi- asm for the unaccustomed sport, and filled with the excitement of our adventure. The canoes fairly leaped from crest to crest of the billows, and we could not see each other for the screen of dashing spray. A moment or two of active dodg- ing and very hard paddling and we came out breathless at the landing of a tempo- rary station where the international corps of engineers are quartered while the great work of improving the navigation is in progress. The rocky shoulder of Greben is all scarred and torn by the cuttings which are gradually eating off its rugged and dangerous spur. Further down stream a FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. breakwater is in course of construction intended to divert the current from a shallow; and at some distance below, the great black masses of drilling-machines, all chains and iron posts and funnels, are seen anchored in mid-stream, where they are constantly at work blasting out a great ledge of rock which causes the rapids of the Jur. VOL. LXXXY.No. 50514 131 The cheery engineers, who had watched our descent of the rapids with great inter- est, welcomed us when we landed with offers of substantial hospitality, and over a good dinner we discussed the one topic which had for ns a common interestthe moods and caprices of the great river. When we left them, at two oclock, we had still a paddle of some twenty-five THE KAsAN nEFILE. 132 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. miles before we should reach Orsova, where we proposed to pass the night, not thinking it would be possible to camp in the gorge. There would be no shelter from the violent up-stream wind until we reached the entrance of the defile, so there was need of haste. Below Greben the river sweeps around in a great curve from the south to the northeast, a mile or more in width, then suddenly narrows, and takes a remarkably straight course through a deep cleft in the mountains, until it bends sharply towards the south again at the Iron Gates. The gorge through which it passes is called the Kasan Defile, and is far and away the most impressive and wonderful feature of the scenery along the whole river. Sheer limestone precipices many hundred feet in height rise up in grand simple masses on either side, and as we approach- ed the gorge it looked as if some great con- vulsion of nature had wrenched the solid rocks asunder, leaving the deep and nar- row chasm for the passage of the river. Before Count Szdchenyi built his road along the Hungarian bank, in 1840, there had been no practicable pathway through the defile since the great road built by Trajan for his soldiers and his army trains during his Dacian campaign. At the en- trance, where the river is constricted to a width of only 180 yards, the straight cut- tin~ of the modern highway and the great score in the cliffs left by Trajans road are both prominent features in the land- scape. Here the river rushes violently past a high rock in mid-stream, which causes a dangerous whirlpool just below, then plunges into the narrow cleft with a volume of water 200 feet or more in depth, and swirls and boils and throbs with great pulsations all along its swell- ing flood. Narrower and narrower be- comes the gorge, hi~,,her and higher the cliffs, and stran~,e currents and ominous whirls break the surface of the dark tor- rent. In the depths of the chasm there is almost twilight gloom, and in the im- pressive quiet the murmur of the impa- tient river sounds dull and low, like the breakers on a far-off sea-shore. Still closer and closer crowd the giant cliffs, until they almost touch. At last they force the mighty river into the narrow compass of 120 yards; and then, as if fatigued with the effort of strangling the resistless flood, withdraw again, and little by little the current gains its familiar breadth, and spreads out into a pleasant reach, with high wooded hills enclosing on the north a fertile valley with ripening corn-fields, and piling high on the south their rugged summits almost perpendicularly over the waters edge. Here the Roman road is almost practicable in parts, and under a great towering precipice, where a project- ing rock pushes out boldly into the deep channel, the great general caused, in the year 103, a tablet to be carved in the solid rock, on which may still be read the words, IMP. CAESAE Divi NERvAE F. NEnvA TnA- JANYS AvG. GEnM. PONT. MAXIMUs **** commemoratin,, his victory over Nature as well as over man. Nature has not for- given Trajan the desecration of this one of her subhimest works, and in the lapse of centuries she has gradually eaten away the hard rock tablet, threatening it xvitb utter destruction, in spite of the project- ing stone above it, until solid masonry supports have been erected to hold the shattered inscription in its place. As we were sketching the spot, with its interest- ing traces of the Roman road, showing where the posts were fastened to the rock to support the platforms necessary to widen the path, two natives came pad- dling up under the edge of the cliff in a dugout canoe, and moored their boat at the corner, where, on the old Roman road-bed, they had a little fishing-camp. Canoe, implements, dress, were the same as in the days when their remote ances- tors piloted Trajans galleys through the dangerous eddies of the defile. Dacia Felix is now only a name, and a shatter- ed tablet and crumbling traces of the first great highway along the Danube alone remain to remind us of the great generals conquests of this remote region, and to suggest something of the civilization he founded there. But the peasant is still unchanged in type and costume, speaks a langua,,e closely allied to the old Roman dialect, tills the ground and catches fish with the same rude implements that Tra- jan found in the hands of the happy bar- barians of Dacia Felix. It was long after dark before we steered our canoes by the twinkling lights of Or- soya to the steamboat landing there. The tinkle of gypsy music in the garden res- taurant by the river-hank echoed across the silently flowing stream, now silvered by the moon, which tardily rose above the great mountains. We heard again the soft accents of the Magyar tongue FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 133 and the intoxicating strains of the cs6rdfis. The wild gypsy leader poured his music into our eager ears, drawing his nervous bow under our very hat brims, lest we should lose some quaver of the stirrin chords. Long into the night we sat there, captive to the music and the beauty of the moonlit landscape, loath to lose one moment of the few precious hours that remained to us in bewitching, beloved Hungary. Like all frontier towns, Orsova has a hetero~,eneous population, which gives in - terest to an otherwise dull and unattrac- tive place. Besides its commercial impor- tance on the river, and also on the through railway line from Buda-Pesth to Bucha- rest, it is, in summer-time at least, the halt- ing-place for the great multitudes of Rou- manians and Hungarians who resort to the baths of Mehadia, or the Herkulesbad, as it is usually called, a most picturesque and luxurious establishment of sulphur baths a few miles inland, in a wonderful gorge of the Carpathians. Among the motley collection of pea- sants seen in the streets, the Turk in all his squalor is met here for the first time on the Danube. By the treaty of Berlin, the small fortified island of Ada Kaleh, three miles below Orsova, was ceded to Austria, and the citadel was ordered to be razed. But as the whole population consisted of Turks, and there seemed to be no humane method of getting rid of them, they were allowed to linger on, not acquiring rights of citizenship in Austria, nor yet responsible to the Sultan in any way, paying no taxes to either Austro- Hungary or Turkey. The wily Turk makes the most of his position, and drives a thriving trade in all sorts of knick- knacks, picks up a good income out of the crowd of tourists who visit the island for a sight of a real Turk in his own home, and sells the best tobacco that can be bought north of the Balkans, and at prices which argue against his assurance that he has paid duty on it at the Aus- trian customs. Just beyond this island the Danube bends sharply to the southeast, and three or four miles below the Rournanian frontier tumbles its full, broad current over a great ledge of rocks, which for a mile and a half in width extends across the river, leav- ing only a narrow and intricate channel for steamers near the Roumanian shore, al- ways dangerous to nav- igation, and at low water impassable ex- cept by boats of shal- low draught. In this mile and a half of rapids the river falls sixteen feet, and the broad defile at this point is known as the Iron Gates. The international corps of engineers, who are carrying out the improvements of navigation on all the rapids of the Car- pathian gorge, have begun to cut a canal through the rocks at the Iron Gates along the Servian bank. The work has been in progress since the autumn of 1890, and will be completed in 1893. Trajans en- gineers actually completed part of a sini- ilar canal a few rods further inland, and the material of the ancient embankments is now employed in the construction of the modern dikes. Like the conscientious travellers we were, we inspected the works, and, at the invitation of the engineers, spent a pleasant half-day there. In com- mon with so many other undertakings the world over, the labor is mostly in the hands of the Italinns,who look exactly like so many workmen on theCroton Aqueduct At noon they gathered at the doorway of REMAINS OF TRAJANS ROAD NEAR ORSOvA. MONTHLY 134 HARPERS NEW MAGAZINE. low position to jud~e of the best channel in the surging waves, we kept as straight a course as the angry and baffling currents would permit, and came out safely into the comparatively smooth waters below, where we had a moment to look at the landscape from mid-stream, and to vote it tame and unin- teresting after the grand scenery of the Kasan De- file. For a mile or two further on we found we must steer with care, for vicious swirls would sud- denly appear and almost snatch the paddles from our hands. Great stur- geon weirs near the Ser- vian shore marked the end of the violent cur- rents, and after passing these we floated tran- quilly away down a reach dotted all over with gourds, marking the nets and sturgeon lines, which here are set on every side. A plea- sant open country was now before us, with hot yellow hills and a town on either hand Kla- dovo, with brick fortress and modern earthworks, ROUMANJAN PICKET GUARD. on the Servian shore, and Turn Severin, high up on a bluff across the the FOOTHOHULIA HEB JOPKGAST- river just below. As we had not yet HAUS NEWY JORKquite the same landed in Roumania we decided to coast as at the corner groceries of the One-hun- along the left bank and see if the landing- dred-and-somethin~ Street above the Har- place was more interesting than the long lem River, and only left the spot during straggling modern town, which looked so the hour of rest to watch the futile rage commonplace and unattractive. As we of a flock of Servian and Roumanian drifted down close to the groups of quaint geese at a sleepy Hungarian eagle chained craft, studying these novel vessels, the to a perchan active symbol of a possible first we had seen with masts and sails, political situation. which appealed stron~,- we noticed, on the river-bank below, the ly to the ready Italian wit. ruined pier of Trajans hridge, and thought We had our usual enemy, a violent we would land there and make a sketch head-wind, on the day we trusted our fleet of it. As we passed the town we saw a to the mercies of the Pregrada rapids at soldier in a white linen uniform trying the Iron Gates, and we had a busy quar- his best to keep pace with us; but as he ter of an hour escaping the whirlpools and made no sign, we did not dream he had avoiding the cross-seas. Unable from our any other motives than those of curiosity. FROM THE BLA~CK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 135 Just above the ruins a party of soldiers was bath- ing, a sentinel stood guard in front of a sentry-box, and a few rods further down men were washing horses, and women were beating clothes on the rocks. We turned our bow toward the bank at the ruined pier, when a sharp hail from the senti- nel caused us to look up. Keep off! he command- ed, in vigorous Rouma- nian. But we, seeing no fortifications anywhere, and having no more sin- ister intentions than the mild pursuit of art, knew no reason why we should not go ashore where the natives were at work, and continued to paddle slowly toward the mud bank. Keep off! keep out in the stream ! he yelled again. Is there a war here? we asked, with an attempt at humor. No; but you shant laud! Keep off, or Ill shoot! Shoot away; you cant hit 1 we retorted, be- lieving it to be the idle threat of a soldier only half in earnest. But he grew more and more excited as we approached, and drawing a cartridge from his pouch, show- ed it to us, and pushed it into his rifle. Just at this moment the soldier whom we had seen runniu~ along the shore came up breathless, and took command of the military force, promptly ordering the sen- try to cover us with his rifle, while the bathing soldiers might seize our canoes. We held off for a few moments, just out of reach, and then, thinking the farce had gone far enough, went ashore and surrendered ourselves to the corporal, the sentry, and the dozen half-naked soldiers. Armed with two expensive and hitherto useless passports, we followed the corporal a long distance into the town to the head- quarters, showed our papers to the officer of the day, who immediately gave us our liberty, with polite apologies for the an- noyance his men had caused us. When we reached the canoes again we distrib- uted cigarettes to the bathing party who had guarded our fleet, and sent a few up the bank to the belligerent sentinel, who did not scorn the gift from his recent en- emy. A little Jew boy standing near, not having received his share of the cigarettes, remarked, with some feeling and uncon- scious humor, If the sentinel had fired at you, I suppose youd have given him cigars Floating down a great loop of the river in a dry and yellow landscape, we recov- ered from the excitement of our first ad- venture with the military, and, as we went along, watched the chattering Servians harvesting on one shore, and the Rouma- nian women, in the simple costume of 5ERVIAN FISHING-CANOES. REMAIN5 OF TRAJANS BRInGE, TURN sEVERIN. 136 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. white linen chemise, and long woollen fringe hanging behind from the girdle, which binds a brilliantly colored apron to the waist, drawing water in classic- shaped jars, or spinning from the distaff as they walked. Now and then groups of men so resembling the old Dacians, with loose tunic and trousers, sandals, broad belt, and sheepskin cap, that they almost looked like masqneraders, wandered over the arid slopes, spots of brilliant white on a background of sunny yellow. Even the soldiers we saw at the little huts which now stood on the bank at frequent inter- vals were as barbaric in appearance as the peasant, and could only be recognized as military by the accoutrements they carried. Along one placid reach we came upon a great fleet of dugout canoes, each with two Servians, floating down with the current, dragging clumsy nets as they went. Landing below the little village, whose red-tiled roofs peeped out from among thick foliage, they drew in their DRAWING WATER FOR THE CAMP, BRZA ~ALANKA. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 137 nets, towed their boats up against the alive with peasants, mostly in white un- stream, and, chattering all the while with en garments, with brilliant red sashes on incessant vigor, drifted down again as be- the men and richly colored aprons on the fore. Almost the only houses to be seen women. Both sexes wore very clumsy on the Rournanian shore were the huts of sandals and heavy woollen socks, or leg- the pickets, which occupied every point, wrappings, bound to the ankle by thongs. and guarded every possible landing-place. While we were wondering at the extraor- We realized the fact but slowly, and only dinary activity of the village, we heard after some experience, that we were now the beat of a drum coming nearer and under the eye of military supervision, nearer, and soon a militia company of from which we were not to escape until the wildest-looking men that ever car- we should paddle out into the Black Sea. ned a rifle came marching np at quick At noon of the day following our in- pace, and wheeling into a narrow lane, troduction to the system of keeping the tramped along in a cloud of dust, and dis- frontier in Roumania, we heard the sound appeared over the brow of the hill. An- of rifle-firing and the beating of drums in other and then another company, each the Servian village of Brza Palanka, and more savage-looking than the last, went on landing there found the place in the through the same manc~uvres, and the liveliest commotion. Scores of men and whole population followed them, we women were filling gourds at the wells, among the rest. When we caine out on and hurrying away up the hill-side back the hill-top we saw before us the strangest of the town. Besides the burden of wa- and most barbaric encampment imagin- ter, most of the women and a great crowd able. The broad arid plateau was coy- of children were carrying baskets of bread ered with shelters or great huts made of and cooked food, and kerchiefs full of oak boughs, ranged around in a sort of grapes. The hot and dusty streets were quadrangle, enclosing a level space of cARRyING WATER FOR THE cAMr, BEZA rALANKA. 138 IIARI?ERfi NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. twenty-five or thirty acres. In the shad- ows of these rude shelters were seated hundreds of men eating their mid-day meal, which was brought to them by the women and children, who, after the men were served, squatted on the dry turf a little distance away and ate their own frugal dinner. Across the great parade- ground were two long heaps of straw in parallel lines, which were evidently the beds of the men at night. We understood, of course, that we were in the annual camp of the Servian militia, and were not surprised that our appearance caused some little interest and curiosity, as we were the only ones in European dress anywhere in sight. Besides, our costume would doubtless have excited comment any- where, for Danube mud had so changed its tone and hard usage had so distorted its shape that it was now decidedly unique in general appearance. The camp guard halted us and inquired our business, which we, for want of a better answer, stated to be a visit to the captain, trusting to the probability of there being a num- ber of officers of that rank. The guard seemed perfectly satisfied with our reply, and did not even ask which captain we wanted to see, but let us pass at once. We made the same explanation to various inquisitive militia-men, who seemed to re- sent our sketching, and we slowly made our way into the enclosure. We had eaten nothing since sunrise, and had pad- dled twenty miles or more, therefore, after our first curiosity was satisfied, we thought we would better return to the village for luncheon, and come back to see the af- ternoon drill. But the moment we be- gan to move away, the suspicions of the whole camp were aroused, and from all sides came a chorus of shouts and cries in what seemed to us very violent and angry tones. In another instant we were the centre of an excited throng of fierce - looking rascals, all armed with knives, and several of them with rifles and bayonets. Explanations were now futile, and, indeed, quite impossible, for our small stock of Servian words was soon exhausted, and after making several attempts to push past the men who block- ed oar path, we finally yielded, and were marched off to the hut which was appar- ently the headquarters. Here we found two officers of the regular army, a cap- tain and a lieutenant, who had charge of the encampment, the former being, as we now understood, the only captain in the camp, and therefore the one whom we had declared we were about to visit. The officers were naturally astonished at seeing two men in boating dress ap- pear at the door of their hut, for the mili- tia-men stood off at a respectful distance and sent us ahead to announce ourselves; however, they received us with great sERVIAN 1VLILITIABRZA rALANKA. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 139 courtesy, gave us the oniy two chairs they had, and tried to conceal their bewil- derment by urgent offers of hospitality. We produced our passports, displayed the great water-mark of the eagle and shield and the arms of the British Empire, arid made ourselves as a~reeable as possible, all the while wondering what was going to be the result of the interview. They seemed to be in no treat hurry to get rid of us, and were evidently puzzled what to do with us anyhow; for there could be no questioa of the validity of our creden- tials, and they undoubtedly had received no orders to cover this unexpected epi- sode. The difficulty lay in our inability to explain our business; for although we could understand the greater part of what they said, from the resemblance of the language to Russian, we had a very limited stock of Servian words to use in this emergency. Even if we had suc- cessfully managed the philological feat of explainin~, the object of our trip in com- prehensible Servian, we should have found the same difficulty here as at every other place since the beginning of our voyage in convincing them that we were engaged in no commercial enterprise, but were simply on a pleasure excursrnn. The captain seat men in various direc- tions to find some one who spoke Ger- man or Hungarian, and at last a gypsy was brought who was supposed to be a linguist. His German was limited to one phrase, Was wolien Sie? and not a word of Hungarian did he know, so he was promptly kicked out again. While they were scouring the camp for another interpreter, it suddenly occurred to us to say we were engineers, believing that this must be a recognized profession along the Danube. The word Ingenicur acted like a charm. The captain immediately apologized for his stupidity in not under- standing our position sooner, and called a guard to conduct us safely to the lines, saying that he could not let us remain in the camp, for the orders were against it; besides, there would be nothing to see, for the soldiers were going to have their af- ter-dinner nap, and the parade wonld not take place until evening. We shook hands cordially with both officers, and followed the brawny-chested peasant tow- ard the road to the village. As we marched across the parade - ground we could not resist the temptation to make a little note of the encampment in our sketch-books, but before we could draw a line an excited party of soldiers rushed toward us, the leader brandishing a long knife. It was evident they had all the Oriental fear and aversion to being sketch- ed, and we saw they were disposed to make it unpleasant for us. We prompt- ly put away our books, and one of us, drawing a penknife from his pocket, de- liberately opened the smallest blade and flourished it in the air as if in a mocking challenge to the giant with the long dag- ger. The ridiculous situation was appre- ciated in an instant; the whole crowd stopped shouting to laugh; the weapons were put up, and peace was declared on the basis of mutual mirth. Once beyond the camp lines we did not attempt to en- ter again, but waved our adieux from the canoes as we floated off. Our adventure had been a most inter- esting one, and the result had not been OUR GUARD sERvIAN MILITIA cAMr. 140 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. disagreeable. We could not help think- ing that these people were very little un- derstood by those correspondents who are continually fermenting the Eastern ques- tion and making it a nauseous topic of ignorant discussion in the press of the civilized world. Such an encampment, we thought, would be sure to be described as a massing of Servian troops near the Bulgarian frontier, and a similar experi- ence to ours would furnish text for inter- minable letters on the belligerent charac- ter of the people of the Balkan provinces. For our part we could readily picture the excitement in an encampment of militia in the United States or of volunteers in England if two Servians, in native cos- tume and carrying sketch-books, should succeed in penetrating .the lines, unable to excuse or explain their presence. It is curious to note that a few days after our visit ko the camp we saw an English newspaper, and almost the first para- graph we observed in the column of tele- graphic news was headed, Massing of Servian Troops on the Bulgarian Fron- tier. We did not care to come in contact with the military any more, for the rea- son that, now the novelty was worn off, we should scarcely find future experi- ences interesting enough to compensate us for the great loss of time which they were sure to involve. But we were not far beyond the sound of drums at Brza Palanka before we unwittingly fell into a Roumanian trap by drifting, as we sketched, too near that shore. A hail MASSING OF 5ERVJAN TROOP5 ON THE BULGARIAN FRONTIER. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 141 from the waters edge caused us to look up, and we saw three men, dressed like ordinary peasants, as well as we could judge, beckoning us to come ashore. Thinking they had fish or some other desirable commodity to sell, we paddled nearer, intending to land just below. As we came up to them we saw they wore military belts, and at the same time we noticed a hut like those at other picket posts under a tree on the bluff above. Our first impulse was to turn our bows down stream and paddle away, but, on the first move we made to escape, one of the men ran up to the hut, appeared in- stantly again with rifle and cartridge- boxes, and proceeded to go through sig- nificant exe cises in the Roumanian manual of arms. We were rather tired of this game, and surrendered with bad enough grace. The soldiers, however, were ready enough to discontinue hostil- ities the moment they met us on the shore; the corporal examined our pass- ports, declared them all right, and, with the silver effigy of King Charles of Ron- mania, we stifled effectively what little enmity still lurked under their coarse lin- en tunics and paddled away, friends all round. Notwithstanding our efforts, we had not by any means finished with the military yet, for, as darkness came on and we tried to find a camp-ground, we could discover no practicable place on the Servian side, nor escape the pickets on the opposite bank. At last we decided to make a counter-move against the ene- my, and boldly landed and stalked up to a picket before they had time to run for their one rifle, and asked for guidance to a good camping-ground. They advised us to stay where we were, and avoid dif- ficulties with the posts below in the dark- ness, so we hauled up the canoes close by their shallow well, where the Danube wa- ter filtered in through the sand, and soon forgot soldiers and passports and the Eastern question. BUILnING A HOU5E IN sERvIA. 142 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. On this part of the river villages are infrequent, uninteresting, and almost all on the Servian side. The native archi- tecture is neither imposing nor tasteful, but the houses are comfortable, and often very neat inside and out. The frame is made of roughly hewn poles nailed or pegged togethei~, and skilfully wattled all over with sticks about an inch in diam- eter, which serve to hold the mud with which all the walls and the ceilings are thickly plastered. An open porch or ve- randa, often occupying nearly the whole front of the house, serves as a nursery, work-room, and general sitting-room for the women in summer, and there is often a raised platform at one side, where the men sit in Turkish fashion and smoke and drink coffee. This latter feature of native architecture is found at all coun- try inns, and becomes an indispensable adjunct to most houses a little further down, within the limits of former Euro- pean Turkey. The Servian houses, as well as the Roumanian structures, which are built on much the same plan, are generally whitewashed, and either roofed with red tiles or thatched with reeds or straw. Tiles are more commonly used in most parts. The Roumanian bank had now become fiat, monotonous, and apparently deserted by everybody except the pickets. For many miles we saw not even a fishing-hamlet on either shore, and when, after rather a dull forenoon we came to the great, white, straggling village of Radujev6~, on the right bank, we found it to be the last Servian river town above the Bulgarian frontier, and, fortunately for us, the most picturesque and characteristic place we had seen for days. Few shops, and those of the most primitive order, disturb the rustic sim- plicity of the streets. Farm-houses with great court-yards enclosed by high wat- tled fences are half hidden among the trees on either side the broad dusty high- ways, and the part of the village near the river is still surrounded by an oaken stockade eight or ten feet high, a relic of the days when such a defence was neces- sary. On every veranda and in every farm- yard the women sat in the shadow spin- ning and weaving wool, and their lively gossiping voices mingled cheerily with the clatter of the looms and the whir of the reel. Large-eyed, gray-coated oxen lay and peacefully chewed the cud at the very elbows of the women as they worked. Bright scarlet peppers and great piles of husked Indian corn made rich splashes of color against the cool shadows of the whitewashed walls, and every- where brilliant touches of red in the peasant costume flashed among the foliage or gleamed in the sunshine. A few idlers as- sembled under the rude awning in front of the wine shop, and drank the rank plum brandy or thin acid wine; but, with the exception of these drones of the busy hive, everybody was active- ly engaged in harvest-work or in some domestic manufacture. The biweekly Danube steamer touches at the landing at every trip up and down; freight is delivered, produce shipped and sent to some con- venient market; but the little communi- ty is as far away from civilization as if steamers did not exist, and life there is still quite as primitive as in the days be- fore the enterprising scouts of modern commerce began to corrupt the native taste of the peasantry with the crudities of modern productions. In the long reaches below Radujev6~ a wider landscape meets the eye. Far to the north the high Carpathians raise their noble heads in grand array, and stretch away to the eastward until their forms are lost in the shimmering distance across the Roumanian plain, while to the south the bold outlines of the Balkans may be faintly distinguished, half hidden by sum- HOUSE AT RADUJEVA~. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK mer clouds. The river takes longer and more stately curves, and flows with some- what sleepy current. No obstacles now impede its course, no cliffs or cra~s nar- row its channel, and it winds peaceful- ly along without a check until it pours its great flood through a dozen outlets into the Black Sea. Nor is this peaceful stream without its own peculiar charm and beauty. The sunny smiling land- scapes never tire the eye or fatigue the mind, for the majestic stream opens new vistas at every bend, and discloses ever- varied combinations of shore and stream and distance. On one of the pleasantest reaches,a short way below the mouth of the magnificent stream which marks the Bulgarian fron- tier, the Roumanian town of Kalafat, with its great church and public edifices, shows an imposing mass on a high bluff, and looks down with the conscious pride of newness on the old town and fortress of Widdin, among the green meadows on the opposite shore. From the earthworks of Kalafat, Prince Charles fired his first shot against the Turks in 1877, which found an answering echo until Bulgaria was free and Roumania became a nation. The grim old stronghold of Widdin still shel- ters a large Turkish population, and above the rigid lines of its half-ruined parapets the slender points of numerous minarets still rise, mute symbols of a faith that lingers even now on the banks of the Danube. It was a pleasant, quiet after- noon when we slowly paddled down the beautiful reach, enchanted by the peace- ful landscape and the pastoral beauty of the river-banks. Kalafat, dominating the great bluff, was accurately reflected in the mirror of the stream; and below, the slen- der minarets of Widdin and a cluster of masts, showing high above a wooded isl- and, carried the eye away in agreeable perspective. A storm of wind and rain which swept over the country an hour or two before had cleared away, leaving the sky blue and cloudless. Dreaming of the time when the smoke of hostile cannon drifted across the meadows and veiled the face of the high bluff, we floated down toward the distant fortress, scarcely mov- ing a paddle, lest we should all too soon sweep past the charming spot. The sound of dashing water like some near rapid suddenly startled us, and we saw just be- low us, only a short distance away, the whole surface of the river violently agi SEA. U tated, as if a line of rocks or a rough shal- low stretched across from bank to bank. Hastily consulting the map, we found there was no such obstruction marked at this point, and we were puzzled to know what was in our path. Our ignorance was of brief duration, for even before We had taken up our paddles again a sudden gust of wind struck the canoes, and we were in the midst of tossing,angry surges. The willows on the bank bent down like corn in a summer gale, and showed their leaves all white in the sunlight. The pure dome of the sky was unbroken by a single cloud, but the wind came tearing up the stream like a cyclone. From the bluffs of Kalafat to the meadows of Wid- din the great sleepy river had suddenly become a seething, foaming waste. Our only shelter was under the low mud banks on the Bulgarian side, whither we slowly fought our way, obliged to keep our bows 143 ROUMANJAN PEASANT GIRL. 144 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to the wind, and at the same time to draw shorewards with all possible speed. For some moments we were buffeted by the waves and beaten about by the vicious blast, but at last we managed to gain the shelter of some large willows, and landed in the mud opposite Kalafat. We got ashore not a moment too soon, for the river, threshed by the flail of continuous gusts, grew rougher and rougher, and the waves broke with crests like ocean bil lows. At the spot where we landed was moored a rude fishing-boat, and two young Bulgarian fishermen sat under the trees on the bank above busily weaving rough baskets out of unpeeled willow twigs. Their camp was a bed of boughs under the gnarled, crooked trunk of a tree; their outfit consisted of a small kettle, a dish, and two wooden spoons, and, stowed away in the shade of a convenient stump, a small stock of green corn, a few watermelons, CAMP OPPO5ITE KALAFAT. FROM THE BLACK FOREST TO THE BLACK SEA. 145 and a fish or two wrapped up in leaves, hearty good-will. Out of their rustic comprised their whole stock of provisions, larder they chose the best melons, and in- In this simple bivouac they cooked and sisted on our eating them, and for our ate and slept all summer long, fishing by supper they selected the freshest and best day and by night, and sellinc, tkeir catch fish. They firmly refused the money we at Kalafat or Widdin. A cloak of thick hesitatingly tendered them as we launch- rough woollen cloth, like the mantle of ed the canoes after the violence of the the ancient Dacian, was their covering by gale had abated; and when we left them night, and their chief protection against at twilight they shook hands and wished the weather. As simple in their tastes as us God-speed as heartily as if we had the Indians of the plains, and with no camped with them for a season. Some better appliances for use and comfort than distance below their bivonad, and in full may be found in the wigwam of the say- sight of the glimmering lights of both age, they live a happy and contented life, Kalafat and Widdin, we passed the night their only enemy the mosquito, their only among the wild flowers and tangled grass- society the solemn herons that wade along es of a dry bank in a sheltered spot quite the shore in the very smoke of the camp enclosed by a dense growth of trees and fire. underbrush, with no more unpleasant in- They had watched our struggle with truders than startled water - fowl and the storm, and welcomed us ashore with drowsy, unambitious moscjuitoes. 1 I V / BULGARIAN FIsHERMANBASKETMAKING. MY SWEETHEARTS FACE. Y kingdom is my sweethearts face, An these the boundaries I trace: Northward her forehead fair; Beyond, a wilderness of auburn hair; A rosy cheek to east and west; Her little mouth The sunny south. It is the south that I love best. Her eyes, two crystal lakes, Rippling with light, Caught from the sun by day, The stars by night. The dimples in Her cheeks and chin Are snares which Love hath set, And I have fallen iu! JOHN ALLAN WYETH.

John Allan Wyeth Wyeth, John Allan My Sweetheart's Face 146-147

MY SWEETHEARTS FACE. Y kingdom is my sweethearts face, An these the boundaries I trace: Northward her forehead fair; Beyond, a wilderness of auburn hair; A rosy cheek to east and west; Her little mouth The sunny south. It is the south that I love best. Her eyes, two crystal lakes, Rippling with light, Caught from the sun by day, The stars by night. The dimples in Her cheeks and chin Are snares which Love hath set, And I have fallen iu! JOHN ALLAN WYETH. ~HE fabled stream that sank from If the omnibus were a convenient I sight, and emerged far away, still ground for such bouts of argument, the flowing, is an image of the course of all maid has plenty of other keen rapiers in progress. The argument which estab- reserve with which she would pierce his lishes the reason and the benefit of re- courteous incredulity. One of the sharp- form does not therefore at once establish est would be the rejoinder of inquiry it, still less complete it. There are ob- whether it was the general custom of structions, delays, disappearances; but Legislatures to wait until everybody in- still the stream flows, seen or unseen, terested in a reform asked for it before still it swells, and reappearing far be- granting it. Having inserted the point yond where it vanished, moves brimming of the weapon, she would turn it around, to the sea. to the great inconvenience of the elderly The Lady Mavourneen, who, coming wit, by further asking specifically whether to us straight from Paris, found here a imprisonment for debt was abolished be- courteous regard for women, which she cause poor debtors as a body requested it said that after a lifes residence she had or because it was deemed best in the gen- not found in France, was only just to eral interest that it should be abolished, Americans. Nowhere is there such in- or whether hanging for stealing a leg of stinctive and universal consideration for mutton was renounced because the hap- the gentler sex, notwithstanding the oc- less thieves demanded it, or because Rom- casional spectacle of the woman standing illy showed that humanity and the wel- in the elevated railroad car, and the ne- fare of society and of respect for law re- cessity under which the elderly wit found quired it. himself in the omnibus, when, seeing a The comely maid, once aroused, would comely young woman standing, he said not spare him, and while declining to to his son sitting in his lap, My son, occupy his sons seat, she would challenge why dont you get up and give the lady him to say whether the slave trade was your seat ? stopped and the West Indian slaves Despite such gayety in the omnibus, emancipated by England because the and such devout reading of the newspa- slaves petitioned, or because Parliament pers in the elevated cars that the devotees thought such reforms desirable for the cannot see women standing, even those interests of England. That inquiry, doubt- women, if they are travelled, would agree less, she would have pushed more close- that, upon the whole, in no civilized coun- ly home, and there would have been no try have they encountered more defer- escape for the nimble wit except in some once to the sex as such than in America. happy and elusive epigram. Nothing Yet the courtesy is that of a clever as would have followed. He would have well as polite people. If the comely maid lifted his hat courteously as the lady in the omnibus had suddenly and sweet- smiled and left the omnibus. The stream ly asked the elderly wit whether he was of logic would have disappeared. But a true American, and believed that taxa- its volume would have been stronger, tion and representation should go togeth- and when it reappeared, it would have or, he would have promptly replied, been flowing nearer its goal. Yes, maam. But if she had then The comely maid recently smiled, prob- whipped out her logical rapier and thrust ably as if she saw the reappearance, at him the question, Are you, then, in when she learned that venerable Yale, favor of giving me a vote ? his clever- even before venerable Harvard, had ness and his courtesy would have blend- opened her post-graduate courses upon ed in his reply, Madam, when women absolutely the same conditions to women demand it, they will have it. It is the as to men. This is not coeducation; far universal reply of the ingenious patriot from it; it is as far as eleven oclock from who is aware that the argument is against twelve. Still less is it co-suffrage. No, him, but who is still unconvinced. The indeed; it is as different as the blossom stream of logic sinks in the sands of his of May from the fruit of September. It scepticism, but it will reappear still fur- means no more than that the good sense ther on, flowing with a fuller current tow- of Yale, perceiving that there is a goodly ard its goal. company of women actually devoted to voL. LxxxIv.No. 505.i ~

Editor's Easy Chair Editor's Easy Chair 147-152

~HE fabled stream that sank from If the omnibus were a convenient I sight, and emerged far away, still ground for such bouts of argument, the flowing, is an image of the course of all maid has plenty of other keen rapiers in progress. The argument which estab- reserve with which she would pierce his lishes the reason and the benefit of re- courteous incredulity. One of the sharp- form does not therefore at once establish est would be the rejoinder of inquiry it, still less complete it. There are ob- whether it was the general custom of structions, delays, disappearances; but Legislatures to wait until everybody in- still the stream flows, seen or unseen, terested in a reform asked for it before still it swells, and reappearing far be- granting it. Having inserted the point yond where it vanished, moves brimming of the weapon, she would turn it around, to the sea. to the great inconvenience of the elderly The Lady Mavourneen, who, coming wit, by further asking specifically whether to us straight from Paris, found here a imprisonment for debt was abolished be- courteous regard for women, which she cause poor debtors as a body requested it said that after a lifes residence she had or because it was deemed best in the gen- not found in France, was only just to eral interest that it should be abolished, Americans. Nowhere is there such in- or whether hanging for stealing a leg of stinctive and universal consideration for mutton was renounced because the hap- the gentler sex, notwithstanding the oc- less thieves demanded it, or because Rom- casional spectacle of the woman standing illy showed that humanity and the wel- in the elevated railroad car, and the ne- fare of society and of respect for law re- cessity under which the elderly wit found quired it. himself in the omnibus, when, seeing a The comely maid, once aroused, would comely young woman standing, he said not spare him, and while declining to to his son sitting in his lap, My son, occupy his sons seat, she would challenge why dont you get up and give the lady him to say whether the slave trade was your seat ? stopped and the West Indian slaves Despite such gayety in the omnibus, emancipated by England because the and such devout reading of the newspa- slaves petitioned, or because Parliament pers in the elevated cars that the devotees thought such reforms desirable for the cannot see women standing, even those interests of England. That inquiry, doubt- women, if they are travelled, would agree less, she would have pushed more close- that, upon the whole, in no civilized coun- ly home, and there would have been no try have they encountered more defer- escape for the nimble wit except in some once to the sex as such than in America. happy and elusive epigram. Nothing Yet the courtesy is that of a clever as would have followed. He would have well as polite people. If the comely maid lifted his hat courteously as the lady in the omnibus had suddenly and sweet- smiled and left the omnibus. The stream ly asked the elderly wit whether he was of logic would have disappeared. But a true American, and believed that taxa- its volume would have been stronger, tion and representation should go togeth- and when it reappeared, it would have or, he would have promptly replied, been flowing nearer its goal. Yes, maam. But if she had then The comely maid recently smiled, prob- whipped out her logical rapier and thrust ably as if she saw the reappearance, at him the question, Are you, then, in when she learned that venerable Yale, favor of giving me a vote ? his clever- even before venerable Harvard, had ness and his courtesy would have blend- opened her post-graduate courses upon ed in his reply, Madam, when women absolutely the same conditions to women demand it, they will have it. It is the as to men. This is not coeducation; far universal reply of the ingenious patriot from it; it is as far as eleven oclock from who is aware that the argument is against twelve. Still less is it co-suffrage. No, him, but who is still unconvinced. The indeed; it is as different as the blossom stream of logic sinks in the sands of his of May from the fruit of September. It scepticism, but it will reappear still fur- means no more than that the good sense ther on, flowing with a fuller current tow- of Yale, perceiving that there is a goodly ard its goal. company of women actually devoted to voL. LxxxIv.No. 505.i ~ 148 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. higher studies, and not perceiving any- thing unwomanly or undesirable in lar- ger knowledge and stricter intellectual training, invites Hypatia and Mrs. Som- erville and Maria Mitchell to avail them- selves of her opportunities and resources to prosecute their studies, and recognizes that in a modern world of larger and juster views, which permits women to use every industrial faculty to the utmost, and to own property and dispose of it, it is useless longer to insist with chivalry that woman is a goddess too bright and good, or with the Orient that she is a slave in this world and a houri iu the next. As for the logic of such an invitation, Yale is doubtless indifferent. She in- vites women to study not with her under- graduates, but with her post-graduates. Probably she recoils with instinctive con- servatism from the vision of a possible Hypatia seated among her faculty in a professorial chair. That might do in Alexandria in the fifth century. But in New Haven in the nineteenth, or even the twentieth? She recoils still fur- ther from the prospect of co-voting. Elizabeth Tudor was a creditable head of a kingdom and a fellow-counsellor of state with Burleigh and Walsingham. But does it follow that a Connecticut woman possessed of great estates should have a voice in the disposition of her property? Probably Yale would agree that when all such amply endowed wo- men unite in asking for such a voice, it might be worth while to consider. Mean- while she opens the hospitable doors of her post-graduate intellectual treasury, and every woman who will may enter and share the riches. Oliver asked for more, but not until he had consumed his portion. The comely maid of the omnibus smiles as she sees those treasury doors hospitably opening. She seems perhaps to see the stream of logic at once vanishing and reappearing. If a woman may mingle wisely with post graduates, why not with underbut no. Something, she would say with womanly good sense, may be left to time and the inevitable sequence of events. Shall all be done at once, and the sound seed be spurned because it must be planted and grow and ripen before there is a harvest? In this Columbian year shall we think that nothing was gained when Colum- bus reached San Salvador, as we used to be taught, or Watling Island, or Grand Turk, or Samana, among which bewil- dered knowledge now doubtfully gropes -because he had not reached the conti- nent, and because he believed it to be the old and not a new India? That comely damsel, with her face toward the morning, says, quietly, with Durandarte, patience, and shuffle the cards. One glance at the woman in the Athens of Pericles and at woman in the New Haven of President Dwight answers the question which the nimble elderly wit eluded. A LATE little incident discloses the de- fect of a favorite American theory. The theoryand it is one in which this year we are all peculiarly interestedis this, that a popular election expresses the pop- ular view upon great public questions. The orators about to sally forth to take the stump are already whetting their best phrases, and none has a finer edge than that which is attributed to Talleyrand, at whose door all such orphaned and aban- doned phrases are left, so that his name is a vast foundling hospital for stray re- marks of political cleverness that nobody claims. This one is the familiar saying that everybody knows more than any- body. But it is rather perilous to assume that ten millions of votes represent what may be truthfully described as the political views of ten millions of voters. Such a vote is undoubtedly the best practicable system yet devised for ascertaining the personal preferences of ten millions of people, but not their views or opinions. Undoubtedly there is a due proportion of views or convictions among that great number of votes. But a very large part is composed of whims, prejudices, per- sonal interests, bargains, bribes, and ig- norance. A dull Sclavonian fraudulent- ly naturalized yesterday, a Hungarian iron-worker guiltless of knowledge of the English tongue, and hosts and hordes of such extempore citizens, have no views in American politics, and their opinions rep- resent nothing of what a vote stands for in our theory of popular elections. The illustration that the Easy Chair had in mind, however, was the result in- stinctively attributed to a reputed remark of the American Secretary of the Trea- sury when recently in England. He had crossed the ocean after a long illness, to complete his recovery, and the alert inter- EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 149 viewer ran him down in London, and in a conversation reported him to have made use of a descriptive phrase in regard to a class of American voters which it is wholly improbable that he did use. The Secretary was reported to have alluded to clam-mouthed Irishmen, and it was at once felt by his amazed countrymen, from the Penobscot to the Rio Grande, that he had ruined his political career. A British radical member of Parliament once said to the Easy Chair that Mr. Chamberlain could never be Prime Min- ister, because in a public speech, replying to a charge of ratting,he had said the Tories at least are gentlemen, implying that his late Liberal associ~ites were not. The Secretary of the Treasury is a pub- lic man of great experience as a politi- cian, and there is no class of our fellow- citizens which the practical politician is less likely to offend than those of Irish birth or descent. Nothing was more im- probable than that he had described them by an offensive epithet. But the peril was perceived instantly, and a message was promptly cabled from the other side to the effect that the Secretary had not said clam-mouthed, but flannel-mouthed. This was much as if a school-boy, having made a blot of ink upon his writing-book, should try to rub it out with his finger. The incident became more ludicrous, but the certain result no better. The public man who could speak of an Irishman in a contemptuous phrase, or even a phrase susceptible of a suspicion of derision, might prepare with Wolsey to bid fare- well to all his greatness. It .seems to be pure comedy, but it is not. It is such considerations that deter- mine what is called the availability of can- didates. They may be men of the loftiest character and the greatest ability, with knowledge and experience of public af- fairs, and of a distinct political genius, but if they have said upon a subject wholly unconnected with public affairs something offensive to a large body of voters who agree with their public views, they are nevertheless unavailable. The vote of those voters does not represent convictions or views of public questions, but simply personal dislike. The Secre- tary of the Treasury is identified with certain views and policies in public af- fairs. But were he nominated for office as their representative, thousands of those who agree with him would vote against him if he had described their ancestors, even with sincere scientific conviction, as ring-tailed baboons. The moral of these observations is that a popular election does not by any means represent popular opinion upon a great question, unless the preponderance of the majority is so overwhelming as to be in- ferred fairly to have swallowed up the feelings wholly unrelated to the real issues of the election. It is but one of many and various illustrations of the same fact. Few important elections are now decided without the open charge by the defeated party that the result was de- termined by boodle. That is to say, that the result is not an indication of public opinion, but of private swindling. It is possible to sympathize with the Irishman who avenges what he feels to be an insult to his race and kindred by voting against a candidate whom lie be- lieves to be their traducer. But when elections are decided by boodle, they have become games of the same moral dignity with those that are played at Homburg and Monaco. So long as it may be truly said that a Senatorship or a Governorship is sold for money, the theory that elections rep- resent the will of the people is an amusing fancy of the Reverend John Jasper. THE other day a row of trees planted by Alexander Hamilton were offered for sale, and were bought by Mr. 0. B. Pot- ter, a man of public spirit, who, although he hardly sympathizes with the political views of the Federalist leader, cherishes a patriotic respect for the memory of a great American statesman. It was a touching bit of sentiment, and of a kind that is not common among us. Mr. Pot- ter will perhaps reserve a little ground about the trees for a seat or two, and may even contemplate ultimately a bust or statue of Hamilton in a grove of medita- tion within sight of Weehawken, across the Hudson River. Trees, associated with famous men, are beautiful memorials. The winds sigh in their foliage, birds sing in their boughs, their shade solicits the traveller, and nature renew3 their charm with every year. Wordsworth had a sensitive feeling for this sylvan association, and often celebrates it. In the grounds of his friend Sir George Beaumont he placed the inscription beginning: 150 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The embowering rose, the acacia, and the pine Will not unwillingly their place resign, If but the cedar thrive that near them stands, Planted by Beaumonts and by Wordsworths hands. And for a stone on his own grounds of Rydal Mount the poet wrote-and the strain was like a rippling brook In these fair vales hath many a tree At Wordsworths suit been spared; And from the builders hand this stone, For some rude beauty of its own, Was rescued by the bard. So let it rest; and time will come When here the tender-hearted May heave a gentle sigh for him As one of the departed. So under Hamiltons trees the musing citizen may pace, and like the village maiden at her wheel, revolve the sad vicissitude of things. But, as Sir Boyle Roche might have said, if the Hamilton trees had been houses overtaken by the city, their fate would be different. One historic build- ing, indeed, remains, and thus far defies the encroaching town. This is Fraunce s tavern, at the corner of Broad and Pearl streets, in which Washington took leave of his officers. It has the further interest that from its windows the guests gazed upon the procession that escorted Wash- ington from Franklin Square through Pearl Street to Broad, and up Broad to Wall, to be inaugurated President. The old building is called Washingtons head- quarters, and externally is little changed from the time when, with a heart full of love and gratitude, the commander- in-chief lifted his glass and drank to his comrades. Such buildings, however, are few in the city, and the city consequently loses the charm which is so constant in the great cities of Europe. One reason for the paucity, however, does not accuse our sentiment. The noted buildings were frequently of wood, and in themselves more perishable. The historic sense, too, was wanting in the people. Hereafter buildings of a real interest are more likely to be retained, both because of their more permanent material and of a finer nation- al consciousness. In Washington, for in- stance, whatever provision may be made for the residence of the President, the White House would hardly be removed to make room for another official man- sion upon its site. The loss of such buildings is, indeed, a sentimental loss, but despite the disrepute of the word, it is the name of the deepest human emo- tions. It is a sentiment only which would be gratified by seeing the house in which John Jay was born, or Washing- ton Irving. But what takes us to Rome? What is the spell of Venice, where Silent rows the songless gondolier? of Salamis? of Marathon? Long ago, in the golden days of the lecture lyceum, 1k Marvel read a delightful essay on the uses of beauty. Even Jeremy Bentham would agree that real estate does not depreciate in a region hallowed by sentiment, and that life is richer where, while the sense of comfort is placated. the imagination is pleased. Emerson says that nobody owns the landscape. But every land - owner knows that a beautiful and noble prospect enhances the value of an estate. The whole city has an interest in the removal of Columbia College to its new home, be- cause its settlement there will be its per- manent foundation on a fitting and beau- tiful site, securing to the city always a delightful and studious resort, and an endless source of the purest intellectual association. The whole power of association is a sen- timent, and, meditating under the trees of Hamilton which the thoughtful care of Mr. Potter has preserved for us, we are now ready for the remark of Dr. John- son which the patient reader has been awaiting, perhaps the most familiar of all his remarks That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Jona. The doctor differed from General Hamilton; he thought taxation without representation to be no tyranny, and it is doubtful whether Hamilton could have converted him. But if they could stroll together under Hamiltons trees to-day, contem- plating the scene and considering the work of a century, perhaps the tough old Tory might concede that Hamilton was not altogether wrong. THE attitude of an Easy Chair is one of observation. It was the instinct of the ancestors of the modern colloquial essay that one called his lucubrations the Tat- icr, and the other the Spectator. As the Yankee rustic is said to have entered the EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 151 shop of Messrs. Call and Tuttle, and to have remarked to the urbane clerk who awaited his commands, Well, sir, I have called, and now I should like to tuttle, those fathers of the gossiping essay ob- served and tattled. But there is no fresh- er or more vital strain in literature, be- cause it is the talk of literary artists of what they saw. The essays are fine ex- amples of what has been called in the adjacent Study literary realism. If the Freeholder, the close kinsman of the Spectator, were observing our politi- cal life to-day as he observe,d that of Eng- land, and more especially of London, nearly two centuries ago, he would cer- tainly have remarked a recent illustra- tion of the power of public opinion in this neighborhood. The Freeholder made the best of the situation for the first George, and may have been suspected of some personal interest in the prosperity of the Whigs. But it is pleasant to see how the times with which he dealt live upon his page. Turning his glass upon this later day and its events, his conclu- sion would be that the great conservative force in a modern community, public opinion, was never more healthful and active than in ours. The sudden passage of a law devoting part of Central Park to a speedway-a phrase which describes a race-course as gently as sample-room describes what our plainer parents knew as a grog-shop its prompt Executive approval, and the immediate action by the municipal park authorities, startled and aroused the city very much as the arrival of the tea-ships in Boston aroused that sensitive and pa- triotic town more than a hundred years ago. New York is a good-natured com- munity, and generally tolerant of public official excesses, because of its conscious helplessness, and of a public indolence which recoils from the labor and cost of perpetual conflict. Reversing the usual course of war, the city is beleaguered from within rather than from without, and now and then, pushed a little beyond the point of endurance, it tries a turn with the enemy, and is generally worsted and dispersed. But the city is fond of its Park, and pre- fers to retain it for the enjoyment of all the people; and the law, which proposed to sacrifice much of its beauty and con- venience to the pleasure of a few, with consequences that promised to baffle and annul its original and essential purpose, produced a general and active protest, and for a few days the scene recalled the excitement of Boston hurrying to the town meeting, and finally to the tea-ships to throw the tea overboard. A law passed by the Legislature and signed by the Governor is presumably the act of the people by their freely chosen representatives. But this was a law which affected chiefly the people not of the State, but of the city, and the protest was so strong and so universal that it was plain the representatives misrepresented the people. The press thundered against the project; com- mittees were organized; subscriptions poured in; a great public meeting was electrified by eloquent appeals; a com- mittee of eminent citizens was appointed to proceed to Albany and ask the repeal of the law. Simultaneously the Mayor, admonished by the impressive demonstra tion, called a halt; the park authorities reversed their action, and revoked the order to proceed with the work. The tea should not be~ landed. But whether it shall be thrown overboard, whether the law shall be repealed, is still unsettled as the Easy Chair is compelled to take down its glass. But it is a pleasant illustration of pub- lic opinion correcting the action of its own agents, even when that action has become invested with the dignity and force of law, but correcting it by entirely lawful methods. It is a demonstration of the spirit of prompt, intelligent, re~- olute action under law, which is the spirit of the history of libertythe spir- it which will not suffer institutions de- signed to promote the general welfare to obstruct and injure it. The Freeholder would see in this little incident the later action of the spirit which bowed the Stu- arts out of England, and seated William, and at last the Hanoverians, upon the throne. Sam Adams would see in it the spirit which maintained English rights against English encroachment. Indeed, there is a cloud of witnesses who would testify to the good work done in prevent- ing the depredation upon the Park not only in the rescue of a popular pleasure- ground from harm, but in proving the readiness of intelligent public opinion to assert itself. This little incident, and the similar protest of the same opinion two years ago 152 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. against the diversion of the Park to the purposes of the Worlds Fair, are the con- clusive proclamation by the intelligent public opinion of New York that it means to reserve its great pleasure - ground for the pleasure of all the people, and not to permit it to be misappropriated for a hundred projects, which may be perfectly proper and desirable in themselves, but I. WE have been accustomed to find in tbe English shepherds, rustics, and clowns drawn by Mr. Thomas Hardy counterparts of the simple folk depicted by Shakespeare. The artist who has made the illustrations of the rural scenes in Tess of the D Urbervilles has in one picture put the milkmaid on the wrong side of the cow. We are sure that this could not have been done with the ap- proval of Mr. Hardy, and equally sure that it was not done with the appioval of the cow, who in this situation would have kicked over the milk-pail; but un- fortunately the illustration imparts an air of cockneyism to the surrounding pages of text, and a slight shade of sus- picion arises that we have here a litera- ry milkmaid, or at least one created for a literary or a moral purpose. This im- pression is not lessened by a certain quaint and almost archaic tone which was so delightful in the authors Group of Noble Dames. Are Tess and Jzz and Marion and old Durbeyfield really of this century? Mr. Hardy should know best. We are compelled by the authors pre- vious performances to hold him to the highest standard as a literary artist. In none of his former novels has he given such exquisite landscapesthey are drawn or painted rather than writtensuch scenes of dawn, of night, of lush sum- mer, and of the barren time of frost, such absolutely vivid pictures of farm life. (There is, it may be said in passing, a striking coincidence between the thresh- ing-machine incident and that described in Garlands Main Travelled Roads, with the balance of fidelity to nature in Mr. Garlands favor.) But there has crept into his language a certain scientific jar- gon, which effectively meets the require- ments of a scientific age, no doubt, but has an odd effecta slight effect of strain, which do not belong to a park. Uncle Toby thought that there was room enough in the world for the fly and himself. There is plenty of room in the city of New York for race-tracks, or speedways, or fairs without encroaching upon Cen- tral Park. This truth has now been stated so emphatically that every good cause is strengthened. if not of artificiality. The story is pal- pitating with life-physical life, warm, insistent, the original force and impulse of nature itself. So obvious is this that the reader can fancy the novelist has said to himself, We English are accused of cowardice in dealing with the relations of the sexes, with passion and the primary forces of nature; I will show that we un- derstand life on this side of the Channel as well as they do on the other. The effort, which is entirely successful, has a little the air of a tour de force. A pow- erful novel, everybody says that, and un- utterably tragic and painful. That were enough to say did not the author chal- lenge a moral estimate by his sub-title A Pure Woman, Faithfully Presented. We are little inclined to take it up, for Mr. Hardys thesis is that we must be judged by the will, not by the deed. This standard is difficult to apply in human affairs, and discussion of it cannot be undertaken in a paragraph. The career of Tess involves us in an inextricable confusion of right and wrong. We as- sume that the reader knows her story. We accept Mr. Hardys representation of her; we even understand what he means by a purity preserved in what he may call conventional sins. Granting all this, we must hold Mr. Hardy, and not Tess, to blame for her conduct. A character in fiction, as soon as it is conceived and ac- curately limned for the reader, has rights. Whatever we think of the first misstep of Tess in the immaturity of her girlhood, her character was afterwards so formed by experience and suffering, so enlight- ened was she by intelligence and by the pure love for her husband, that the acts she committed seem impossible. Certain- ly her return to the betrayer she loathed was not her act, but the wilful compul- sion of her creator. And in the last moral insensibility to crime, which her

Editor's Study Editor's Study 152-156

152 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. against the diversion of the Park to the purposes of the Worlds Fair, are the con- clusive proclamation by the intelligent public opinion of New York that it means to reserve its great pleasure - ground for the pleasure of all the people, and not to permit it to be misappropriated for a hundred projects, which may be perfectly proper and desirable in themselves, but I. WE have been accustomed to find in tbe English shepherds, rustics, and clowns drawn by Mr. Thomas Hardy counterparts of the simple folk depicted by Shakespeare. The artist who has made the illustrations of the rural scenes in Tess of the D Urbervilles has in one picture put the milkmaid on the wrong side of the cow. We are sure that this could not have been done with the ap- proval of Mr. Hardy, and equally sure that it was not done with the appioval of the cow, who in this situation would have kicked over the milk-pail; but un- fortunately the illustration imparts an air of cockneyism to the surrounding pages of text, and a slight shade of sus- picion arises that we have here a litera- ry milkmaid, or at least one created for a literary or a moral purpose. This im- pression is not lessened by a certain quaint and almost archaic tone which was so delightful in the authors Group of Noble Dames. Are Tess and Jzz and Marion and old Durbeyfield really of this century? Mr. Hardy should know best. We are compelled by the authors pre- vious performances to hold him to the highest standard as a literary artist. In none of his former novels has he given such exquisite landscapesthey are drawn or painted rather than writtensuch scenes of dawn, of night, of lush sum- mer, and of the barren time of frost, such absolutely vivid pictures of farm life. (There is, it may be said in passing, a striking coincidence between the thresh- ing-machine incident and that described in Garlands Main Travelled Roads, with the balance of fidelity to nature in Mr. Garlands favor.) But there has crept into his language a certain scientific jar- gon, which effectively meets the require- ments of a scientific age, no doubt, but has an odd effecta slight effect of strain, which do not belong to a park. Uncle Toby thought that there was room enough in the world for the fly and himself. There is plenty of room in the city of New York for race-tracks, or speedways, or fairs without encroaching upon Cen- tral Park. This truth has now been stated so emphatically that every good cause is strengthened. if not of artificiality. The story is pal- pitating with life-physical life, warm, insistent, the original force and impulse of nature itself. So obvious is this that the reader can fancy the novelist has said to himself, We English are accused of cowardice in dealing with the relations of the sexes, with passion and the primary forces of nature; I will show that we un- derstand life on this side of the Channel as well as they do on the other. The effort, which is entirely successful, has a little the air of a tour de force. A pow- erful novel, everybody says that, and un- utterably tragic and painful. That were enough to say did not the author chal- lenge a moral estimate by his sub-title A Pure Woman, Faithfully Presented. We are little inclined to take it up, for Mr. Hardys thesis is that we must be judged by the will, not by the deed. This standard is difficult to apply in human affairs, and discussion of it cannot be undertaken in a paragraph. The career of Tess involves us in an inextricable confusion of right and wrong. We as- sume that the reader knows her story. We accept Mr. Hardys representation of her; we even understand what he means by a purity preserved in what he may call conventional sins. Granting all this, we must hold Mr. Hardy, and not Tess, to blame for her conduct. A character in fiction, as soon as it is conceived and ac- curately limned for the reader, has rights. Whatever we think of the first misstep of Tess in the immaturity of her girlhood, her character was afterwards so formed by experience and suffering, so enlight- ened was she by intelligence and by the pure love for her husband, that the acts she committed seem impossible. Certain- ly her return to the betrayer she loathed was not her act, but the wilful compul- sion of her creator. And in the last moral insensibility to crime, which her EDITORS STUDY. 153 husband shares with her, the happy pair seem walking in a dream, surely not in the reality of any sane world we recog- nize. II. Are there any old-fashioned readers left aboveground to enjoy a historical ro- mance? Or are they all resting in the cemetery in which criticism has erected head-stones with the names of Walter Scott and Dumas and Hugo and Thack- eray? Must one seek the protection of such a city of the dead in order to read, without consciousness of committing a literary impropriety, The Deluge, written as a sequel to Fire and Sword, by the Polish novelist, Henryk Sienkiewicz? The story moves in the lurid atmosphere of war and slaughter in the years 16548, when the commonwealth of Poland was in death-throes, and the reader must be prepared for an amount of vigor and ac- tion which sweep away the analytic fan- cies of the period. Time he will also need, for the romance runs through two thick, compactly printed volumes, and he must live day after day and night after night with the stirring personages in these pages, until they will become reali- ties of a period, recounted by the Polish wizard with marvellous art. So skilful is Sienkiewicz that the reader will never doubt that these characters once lived, and that these incidents, given in such detail, are historic verities. The Study can recall no other historical romance that carries with it more perfectly the air of verity. This is owing to the care with which all the scenes are painted and the individuality of the figures. We meet again here our inimitable knight of the Fire and Sword, Zagloba, and his com rades in prowess; and the old and lovely sinner has not lost his love of adventure or of bragging. We have had much less enjoyment in life in company of a better man. The novel gives us a picture of a land on fire with war, or, to change the figure, deluged with enemies, traitors having removed the barriers of invasion. It is a story of marchings and sieges, of burning cities, of battles and annihilating partisan encounters, of personal adven- ture, which the reader follows with the breathless interest of a spectator. And through it all runs a golden thread of love, pure and sweet, involving the de- velopment of character in the fire of ex- perience that was an element wanting in the authors former story. When a critic wishes to commend a stirring romance without incurring personal responsibili- ty, he says that it will please boys. The great sweep of this romance in its his- toric J)erspective cannot be measured by a boys comprehension, but there are many who carry into manhood the boys love of action, of vital force, of adventure, of deeds done splendidly, of lives offered to a cause in a grand manner and without self-consciousness, who will be obliged to Sienkiewicz for quickening their pulses, and giving them once more the thrill of primal heroism. They will believe, while they are with Sienkiewicz, that there is such a thing. III. Of course, in a way, romance has gone out of the West. The poor Ute Indian, whose name is Co-na-pi-ett, appears on the English rolls as Hannibal Hamlin, and the wily Too-car can scarcely recognize himself as Cyrus Crow. There is no longer much illusion in the Southwest border stories of William Gillmore Simms, whose life has just been written (in the American Men of Letters Series) by William P. Trent, Professor of History in the University of the South. The Revo- lutionary romances of the Carolinas, of Marion and his men, have still a certain vitality which is not inherent in the poetry of the author, but the name of Simms is now chiefly useful as an illus- tration of a literary and social period gone by, and in a larger sense of the effect of isolation, want of discipline, and social surroundings upon a talent that might have been a very important one in the world. Simms was greater than his works. He had force, ambition, courage, manliness, immense industry, fecundity, and a born capacity for story-telling. His efforts were largely frustrated by want of training, and by an environment un- friendly to his art. Had Simms been born now, in an impulsive, generous society, which has dropped feudalism and slavery, and which sees as an inspiration of progress what John Van Buren used to call the Northern Lights, there is every reason to believe that he would hold a front rank among American nov- elists. There never was such another demonstration in history of the effect of social emancipation upon literature as has been furnished by the band of brill- iant Southern writers since the war of 154 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. secession. Professor Trent illustrates this in his method of modern research and scholarship. His study of Simms is both critical and sympathetic, and he makes us see the man by pouring upon the insti- tutions that both made and marred him the illumination of the modern day. In- deed, it may be doubted if the value of the volume as biography is not over- shadowed by its value as a study of the limitations that slavery put upon literary performance, and by its service as a rec- ord of life and manners now become his- toric. There was ambition enough to produce a Southern literature, but a with- ering blight fell upon effort, and even those who made it said that Charleston, with all its culture, was a graveyard of periodicals. Sirnins lived to see his idols shattered, the social fabric around him in ruins, stricken by bereavement, beggared by war and conflagration, and by the non-marketable quality of his old- fashioned wares; but he was never more heroic or more worthy of love and re- spect than in his brave struggles to assist others in the days of his extreme calam- ity. The story has personal as well as general interest, and will be read with pleasure, because Professor Trent has set it forth with vivacity, in a narrative the entertainment of which does not flag, and with a lucid and scholarly pen. We ac- count it, indeed, considering all its rela- tions, and the wholly admirable manner of its execution, one of the most impor- tant biographies of late years, and of great historic value. Iv. The first impression made upon the reader by Mrs. Humphry Wards His- tory of David Grieve is that of abun- dant leisure at the command of the au- thor. She has not been in haste. She has waited, after drawing off her first ro- mance, until her reservoir filled again. She has written with unwearying pa- tience and tireless elaboration. As a re- sult of this care and leisure of mind, her work is of firmly knit fibre, woven in a style of singular compactness and brill- iant lustre. This is a commendable exam- ple to other story-writers, and the result would need only praise if the author had not assumed that the reading public has as much leisure as she has, and can afford, for example, to read half a dozen pages in or~ler to get a silhouette of a single fig- ure in a winter landscape. If the author hoped to give us the impression of a life- time in her story, she has succeeded, for we can readily believe that we have been with David Grieve a hundred years. The theme is the evolution of a human soul into peace through suffering, and the un- relenting creator of David spares him no calamity. From childhood to the end he is ground in every sort of adversity, and his companions in it are selected for their unpleasantness, for the most part. The reader will not, however, object to this company, sordid or disreputable as most of it is, for he is always conscious of be- ing in good society, having the refined society of the author and of excellent lit- erature, and the beauty of nature as a per- petual chorus and interpreter of the story. This power of the author to idealize her material gives her high rank as a writer. But she has made one hazardous experi- ment, and that is in trying to paint a character consistently bad-as difficult a feat as to make one perfectly good in human life. Davids sister Louie is per- haps the most unremitting, unrelieved fe- male devil ever created, an imp of self- ishness and heartlessness from her child- hood to her tragic deathso had, indeed, that the Paris episode of un-Puritanic sin rather leaves a white mark on her. It is a sort of relief to the reader to have her go to the devil literally. She can only he accounted for on the supposition that she was possessed. Her millinery in- terest in the Roman Catholic Church is a bold imagination of the author, and is perilously near a humorous conception. The Paris episode of David, at the same time, is generally regarded as the most readable portion of the book, and is, we hear, liked by readers who would not tol- erate such an adventure if described by an American novelist. Nor would the English public be likely to relish it as much if the scene were London. But the writer has never done anything with a lighter hand or more artistic touch than the character of Ehise Delaunay. It is not so new in fiction as Louie, hut it is much truer. David Grieve is intelligent- ly named a historythe rambling histo- ry of a life produced, so far as we can judge, in order to carry the authors eth- ical and religious speculations. It has not the unity of a novel. That is not saying that it has not distinctly drawn characters. One of them is Lucy, the EDITORS STUDY. 155 shallow little fool whom the author com- pels David to marry in order to punish him and discipline him into acceptance of the vague religion of Amiels Diary. The basis of the book, in fact, as it was of Robert Elsmere, seems to be Amiel. A religion is sought, a lasting conception of Christianity. This search is represented as being like the unravelling of fine and ancient needle-work. It is a toil, and one is obliged to go round by Voltaire, and wade through all the scepticism of the eighteenth century and the agnosti- cis~n of the nineteenth, to get at the eter- nal meaning of Jesus. And yet Dora the simple-minded Dora of this history had this conception without the least difficulty, and showed the best fruits of it in an unselfish life. She does not need to read David Grieve. V. The old and well-worn adage that truth is stranger than fiction receives a severe blow in Mr. George Merediths The Tragic Contedians. The romance of Helene von D6nni~es and Ferdinand Lasalle has often been told in the news- papers, and the heroine has herself set it forth. Indeed, the introduction to this volume, by Mr. Clement Shorter, gives the story in clear outline, accompanied by the portraits of the leading lady and gentleman. We are thus seated in front of the curtain, fully possessed of the re ality of the persons who are to perform. But when the curtaiii rises, we straight- ~vay lose all sense of reality, and are in the presence of a palpable world of fic- tion, an artificial creation of the stage. IBy constantly turning back to the argu- ment, we are enabled to follow the story, but the illusion of reality is gone. This is a very considerable achievement, and lends a new interest to the somewhat wearisome discussion of realism. It has been supposed on all sides that the nov- clist who could set forth invented char- acters and situations with such literary verity as to make them seem actual hap- penings and human beings had touched the height of art. But here comes a mas- ter of his craft, and introduces confusion into the discussion by transforming real persons and admitted adventures into fantastic images and stage spectacles, so that we are thrown back into the unwel- come notion that fiction is stranger than truth. The necromancer who accom plishes this, one of the subtlest living stu- dents of the human heart, effects it by a method purely his own. By a certain artful collocation of words, he creates an atmosphere by which nature is made to seem as fantastical as he likes to conceive her, and in this strange world his person- ages, now become phantoms of his pen, taking their cue from the author in the prompters box, hurl epigrams at each other, interspersed with dots and dashes which represent emotions beyond the reach of even epigrams to express. It is not necessary to inquire whether real peo- ple in a drawing-room or under the hin- dens ever talk in this way. The author has produced his effect, and no other sort of conversation would be accepted by the reader as sufficiently unreal for the world into which he is introduced. But having accepted this situation, in which reality becomes fiction, the reader has not at all finished with the author. Mr. Meredith is profoundly versed in the sub- tle workings and contradictions of the human heart, and his description of the mental processes of Alvan (Lasalle) and Clotilde (Helene) when they are sepa- rated, simply as an abstract study, is one of the subtlest, and, on the whole, truest, tImings in modern fiction. The elusive coquetry of Clotilde and the masterful egoism of Alvan are studied by a master- hand, done with a delicate firmness that commands the readers admiration even when he is struggling in the meshes of the authors wilful diction. So impressive are Mr. Merediths great qualities, even in this minor work, that it is natural to regret that he does not reach a wider audience. The English in- troduction is of great assistance to the reader, but we believe it would pay an enterprising publisher to have The Tragic Comedians translated. VI. Among the most pleasing occupations of our literary times has been the hunt for local color. It has been a matter of faith. Everybody has believed in it as something you could buy, like paint, in quantities needed for your palette. It has been frankly admitted that local col- or is a thing indispensable, especially in a novel, and to some extent in an essay in biography. Indeed, there is scarcely any mixture that is not improved by it. This is so well understood that when a~ VOL. Lxxxv.No. 505.i 6 156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. writer is about to put his fiction into lim- its of time and space, he finds it to his advantage to get, either by letter or per sonal visit and inspection, some local color to make vivid, if not real, the scenery and personages of his representation. Very often all he needs is certain words or phrases, or at most a dialect. There is probably more marketable local color in a dialect than in any other thing that can be acquired. Given a knowledge of the prevailing wind, the shape of the hills, the attitude of nature in that locality towards the residents, and the dialect, a story can be made so saturated with local color that it would deceive almost anybodyexcept, perhaps, such a person as Hawthorne was. We never think, by-the-way, of lo- cal color in connection with Hawthorne. Apparently he didnt need to put it on. Perhaps he would not have understood about it. He might have thought that the counterpart of the literary term (lo- cal color) applied socially would refer to the women who paint; the term has such an artificial sound. One has an idea of a colored photo~raph; the local color is not a part of the substance, but is im- posed. Now, tbe Study has a notion that Hawthorne was not conscious of any ne- cessity of giving local color to his crea- tions. He wrote of that into which he was born, and his creations, even when they were in foreign settings, glowed with that internal personality which is never counterfeited by veneering. When Grace King published, some years ago, Monsieur Motte, a story of POLITIcAL. OUR Record is closed oim the 12th of April. In Congress the following bills were passed: By the Housethe Pension Appropriation Bill; the Urgent Deficiency Bill, March 11th; the Army Ap- propriation Bill, March 21st; a bill to prohibit ab- solutely the admission of Chinese into the United States, April 4th; a hill removing the duties on wool, April 7th. By the Senatethe Pure Food Bill March 9th; the Urgent Deficiency and Military Academy Appropriation bills, March 17th; the Ind- ian Appropriation Bill, April 6th. The Legislature of Texas, on the 22d of March, elected Roger Q. Mills to represent that State in the United States Senate. The State election in Rhode Island, on the 6th of April, resulted in favor of the Republicans. D. Rus- sell Brown was elected Governor. (Jominercial treaties between the United States and France and Spain were completed, March 10th, by approval of the governments of the two latter creole New Orleans, we had a striking example of the unconscious expression of the life of a community, without the slightest effort on the part of the writer to make that life visible by exaggeration of peculiarities. There was no question here of the truth of dialect or the exter- nal characterizations of race;. the author wrote out of her experience; this was a life she knew so thoroughly that she wa~ not trying to exploit it in telling her story. The result, as we know, was as perfect a representation of creole condi- tions and social life as Hawthorne ever made of New England. And the two re- sults were produced exactly in the same way. Neither author used local color as a varnish. A collection of Miss Kings~ more recent stories, entitled Tales of a Time and Place, increases this writers reputation as an original force in Amer- ican literature. The five stories here- Bayou LOmbre, Bonne Maman Madril~ne, or the Festival of the Dead, The Christmas Story of a Little Church, and In the French Quarter, 1870 have already attracted attention, and this vol-- nine will emphasize the fact that the South here has a born interpreter. Bay- on LOmbre is a picture of the reflex action of the late war th.at can scarcely be matched. And for the episode of the rising and bacehantic march of the ne- gresses when first the idea of freedom came to them, that has a dramatic quality and a raciness of humanity that our crit- ics have been accustomed to find only in the French masters of fiction. countries. The completion of a reciprocity treaty with Nicaragua was made puhlic, March 13th, hy proclamation of the President. A new extradition~ treaty between France and the United States wa signed at Paris March 25th. The treaty between the United States and Great Britain for the arbi-- tration of the questions involved in the Bering Sea. dispute was ratified by the United States Senate March 30th. On the 12th of March 350,000 coal-miners in Great Britain stopped work and went on strike,. which lasted ten days. An agreement was completed between Great Brit- ain and France, on the 6th of April, prolonging tIme- modus vivendi of the Newfoundland fisheries for an- other seasomi. Anarchist plots were discovered iii Paris ama Madrid, and in the latter city an attempt was made on the 4th of April to blow up the Spanish Cortes with dynamite. Several arrests were made in both places.

Monthly Record of Current Events. Monthly Record of Current Events 156-157

156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. writer is about to put his fiction into lim- its of time and space, he finds it to his advantage to get, either by letter or per sonal visit and inspection, some local color to make vivid, if not real, the scenery and personages of his representation. Very often all he needs is certain words or phrases, or at most a dialect. There is probably more marketable local color in a dialect than in any other thing that can be acquired. Given a knowledge of the prevailing wind, the shape of the hills, the attitude of nature in that locality towards the residents, and the dialect, a story can be made so saturated with local color that it would deceive almost anybodyexcept, perhaps, such a person as Hawthorne was. We never think, by-the-way, of lo- cal color in connection with Hawthorne. Apparently he didnt need to put it on. Perhaps he would not have understood about it. He might have thought that the counterpart of the literary term (lo- cal color) applied socially would refer to the women who paint; the term has such an artificial sound. One has an idea of a colored photo~raph; the local color is not a part of the substance, but is im- posed. Now, tbe Study has a notion that Hawthorne was not conscious of any ne- cessity of giving local color to his crea- tions. He wrote of that into which he was born, and his creations, even when they were in foreign settings, glowed with that internal personality which is never counterfeited by veneering. When Grace King published, some years ago, Monsieur Motte, a story of POLITIcAL. OUR Record is closed oim the 12th of April. In Congress the following bills were passed: By the Housethe Pension Appropriation Bill; the Urgent Deficiency Bill, March 11th; the Army Ap- propriation Bill, March 21st; a bill to prohibit ab- solutely the admission of Chinese into the United States, April 4th; a hill removing the duties on wool, April 7th. By the Senatethe Pure Food Bill March 9th; the Urgent Deficiency and Military Academy Appropriation bills, March 17th; the Ind- ian Appropriation Bill, April 6th. The Legislature of Texas, on the 22d of March, elected Roger Q. Mills to represent that State in the United States Senate. The State election in Rhode Island, on the 6th of April, resulted in favor of the Republicans. D. Rus- sell Brown was elected Governor. (Jominercial treaties between the United States and France and Spain were completed, March 10th, by approval of the governments of the two latter creole New Orleans, we had a striking example of the unconscious expression of the life of a community, without the slightest effort on the part of the writer to make that life visible by exaggeration of peculiarities. There was no question here of the truth of dialect or the exter- nal characterizations of race;. the author wrote out of her experience; this was a life she knew so thoroughly that she wa~ not trying to exploit it in telling her story. The result, as we know, was as perfect a representation of creole condi- tions and social life as Hawthorne ever made of New England. And the two re- sults were produced exactly in the same way. Neither author used local color as a varnish. A collection of Miss Kings~ more recent stories, entitled Tales of a Time and Place, increases this writers reputation as an original force in Amer- ican literature. The five stories here- Bayou LOmbre, Bonne Maman Madril~ne, or the Festival of the Dead, The Christmas Story of a Little Church, and In the French Quarter, 1870 have already attracted attention, and this vol-- nine will emphasize the fact that the South here has a born interpreter. Bay- on LOmbre is a picture of the reflex action of the late war th.at can scarcely be matched. And for the episode of the rising and bacehantic march of the ne- gresses when first the idea of freedom came to them, that has a dramatic quality and a raciness of humanity that our crit- ics have been accustomed to find only in the French masters of fiction. countries. The completion of a reciprocity treaty with Nicaragua was made puhlic, March 13th, hy proclamation of the President. A new extradition~ treaty between France and the United States wa signed at Paris March 25th. The treaty between the United States and Great Britain for the arbi-- tration of the questions involved in the Bering Sea. dispute was ratified by the United States Senate March 30th. On the 12th of March 350,000 coal-miners in Great Britain stopped work and went on strike,. which lasted ten days. An agreement was completed between Great Brit- ain and France, on the 6th of April, prolonging tIme- modus vivendi of the Newfoundland fisheries for an- other seasomi. Anarchist plots were discovered iii Paris ama Madrid, and in the latter city an attempt was made on the 4th of April to blow up the Spanish Cortes with dynamite. Several arrests were made in both places. EDITORS DRAWER. 157 In Venezuela a revolutionary movement was in- ugurated March 15th, with ex-President Joaquin ~respo t its head. Despatches from Brazil announced that a revolu- tion was in progress in the state of Matto-Grosso having for its object the overthrow of the present Governor. The dissatisfaction in Rio Grande do Sni had partially snbsided with the accession of a new Governor, but a movement for the formation of an independent republic was reported as imminent. On the 2d of April the ~overnment of the Argen- tine Republic, apprehendin~ a revolt, proclaimed he entire country in a state of siege. DISASTERS. Jlerch 11thAn explosion of fire-damp occurred in a colliery near Charleroi, Belgium, killing nearly two hundred miners. April 1stThe southern and eastern portions of Kansas were swept by destructive storms. Im mense damage was done to property, and more than fifty lives were lost. There were also severe storms in Nebraska, Texas, and Illinois, destroyin~ both property and lives. April 11thDestructive floods in Mississippi caused much injury, especially in the valley of the Tombighee River. More than seventy-five persons were drowned. OBITUARY. llferch 16thAt Alicante, Spain, Edward A. Free- man, of England, historian, aced sixty-nine years. Aferch 19thIn Boston, Massachusetts, Daniel Lothrop, publishei-, aged sixty-two years. Jferch 22d.In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Da- vid Hayes Agnew, physician, aged seventy - four yea rs. Jlerch 26thIn Camden, New Jersey, Walt Whitman, poet, aged seventy-three years. April 2dIn London, England, John Murray, publisher, aged eighty-four years. quarters, ostentatiously disregardful of her switching stump of a tail and up- lifted foot, and threatening her with all soi-ts of direful l)unishment if she jis darred to teteli him. Kick me heah, kick me; I jis dyah you to lay you foot giust me, I e would say, standing defiantly against her as she appeared about to let fly at him. Then he would seize her with a guffaw. Or at times, coming down the hill, lie would haul off and hit her, and take out with her at his heels, her long -furry ears backed, and her mouth wide open as if she would tear him to pieces; and just as she nearly caught him he would come to a stand and wheel around, and she would stop dead, and then walk on by him as sedately as if she were in a harrow. In all the years .A.~ .-ra~--. of their association she never failed him; and she never failed to fling her- self on the collar rounding the sharp UST on the other side curve at Ninth, and to get tl ic car up the of Ninth Street, out difficult turn. side of my office win- Last fall, however, the road passed into dow, is tile stand of new hands, and the management changed the Old Sue, the tug- old mules on the line, and put on a lot of new mule that pulls tile and green horses. It happened to be a dreary green car around the rainy day in November xvhen the first new curve from Main team was put in. They came along about Street to Ninth and three oclock. Old Sue had been standing out up the hill to Broad. in tile pollring rain all day with her head Between her and bowed, and her stubby tail tucked in, and 11cr tile young bow-legged negro that hitches her black back dripping. She had never failed on, drives her up, and fetches her back down nor faltered. The tug-boy, in an old rubber the hill for the next car there has always exist- suit and battered tarpauling hat, had been d a peculiar friendship. lIe used to hold long out also, his coat shining with the wet. He conversations with her, generally upbraid ing and Old Sue appeared to mind it astonishingly her in that complaining tone with opprobrious little. The gutters were running brimming terms the negroes employ, which she used to full, and the cobble-stones were wet and slip- take meekly. At thues he petted 11cr with his pery. The street cars were crowded inside rm around her neck, or teased her, punching and out, the wretched people on tile platforms mer in her ribs, and walking about around her vainly trying to shield themselves with um

Editor's Drawer Editor's Drawer 157-164

EDITORS DRAWER. 157 In Venezuela a revolutionary movement was in- ugurated March 15th, with ex-President Joaquin ~respo t its head. Despatches from Brazil announced that a revolu- tion was in progress in the state of Matto-Grosso having for its object the overthrow of the present Governor. The dissatisfaction in Rio Grande do Sni had partially snbsided with the accession of a new Governor, but a movement for the formation of an independent republic was reported as imminent. On the 2d of April the ~overnment of the Argen- tine Republic, apprehendin~ a revolt, proclaimed he entire country in a state of siege. DISASTERS. Jlerch 11thAn explosion of fire-damp occurred in a colliery near Charleroi, Belgium, killing nearly two hundred miners. April 1stThe southern and eastern portions of Kansas were swept by destructive storms. Im mense damage was done to property, and more than fifty lives were lost. There were also severe storms in Nebraska, Texas, and Illinois, destroyin~ both property and lives. April 11thDestructive floods in Mississippi caused much injury, especially in the valley of the Tombighee River. More than seventy-five persons were drowned. OBITUARY. llferch 16thAt Alicante, Spain, Edward A. Free- man, of England, historian, aced sixty-nine years. Aferch 19thIn Boston, Massachusetts, Daniel Lothrop, publishei-, aged sixty-two years. Jferch 22d.In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Da- vid Hayes Agnew, physician, aged seventy - four yea rs. Jlerch 26thIn Camden, New Jersey, Walt Whitman, poet, aged seventy-three years. April 2dIn London, England, John Murray, publisher, aged eighty-four years. quarters, ostentatiously disregardful of her switching stump of a tail and up- lifted foot, and threatening her with all soi-ts of direful l)unishment if she jis darred to teteli him. Kick me heah, kick me; I jis dyah you to lay you foot giust me, I e would say, standing defiantly against her as she appeared about to let fly at him. Then he would seize her with a guffaw. Or at times, coming down the hill, lie would haul off and hit her, and take out with her at his heels, her long -furry ears backed, and her mouth wide open as if she would tear him to pieces; and just as she nearly caught him he would come to a stand and wheel around, and she would stop dead, and then walk on by him as sedately as if she were in a harrow. In all the years .A.~ .-ra~--. of their association she never failed him; and she never failed to fling her- self on the collar rounding the sharp UST on the other side curve at Ninth, and to get tl ic car up the of Ninth Street, out difficult turn. side of my office win- Last fall, however, the road passed into dow, is tile stand of new hands, and the management changed the Old Sue, the tug- old mules on the line, and put on a lot of new mule that pulls tile and green horses. It happened to be a dreary green car around the rainy day in November xvhen the first new curve from Main team was put in. They came along about Street to Ninth and three oclock. Old Sue had been standing out up the hill to Broad. in tile pollring rain all day with her head Between her and bowed, and her stubby tail tucked in, and 11cr tile young bow-legged negro that hitches her black back dripping. She had never failed on, drives her up, and fetches her back down nor faltered. The tug-boy, in an old rubber the hill for the next car there has always exist- suit and battered tarpauling hat, had been d a peculiar friendship. lIe used to hold long out also, his coat shining with the wet. He conversations with her, generally upbraid ing and Old Sue appeared to mind it astonishingly her in that complaining tone with opprobrious little. The gutters were running brimming terms the negroes employ, which she used to full, and the cobble-stones were wet and slip- take meekly. At thues he petted 11cr with his pery. The street cars were crowded inside rm around her neck, or teased her, punching and out, the wretched people on tile platforms mer in her ribs, and walking about around her vainly trying to shield themselves with um 158 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. brellas held sideways. It was late in the af- ternoon when I first observed that there was trouble at the corner. I thought at first that there was an accident, but soon found that it was due to a pair of new balking horses in a car. Old Sue was hitched to the tug, and was doing her part faithfully; flually she threw her weight on the collar, and by sheer strength bodily dragged the car, horses and all, around the curve and on up the straight track, until the horses, finding themselves moving, went off with a rush. I saw the tug-boy shake his head witi) pride, and heard him give a whoop of triumph. The next car went up all right; but the next had a new team, and the same thing occurred. The streets were like glass; the new horses got to slipping and balking, aud Old Sue had to drag them up as she did before. From this time it went from bad to worse; the rain changed to sleet and the curve at Ninth became a stalliug-place for every car. Finally,just at dark, there was a block there, and the cars piled up. I intended to have taken a car on my way home, but finding it stalled, I stepped into Polk Millers drug store, just on the coiner, to get a cigar and to keep warm. I could see through the blurred glass of the door the commotion going on just out- side, and could hear the shouts of the driver and of the tug-buy mingled with the clatter of horses feet as they reared and jumped, and the cracks of the tug-boys whip as he called to Sue, Git up, Sue; git up, Sue. Present- ly I heard a sort of shout, and then the tones changed, and things got quieter. A few minutes afterwards the door slowly opened, and the tug-boy came in limping, his old hat pushed back on his head, and one leg of his wet trousers rolled up to his knee, show- ing about four inches of black ashy skin, which he leant over and rubbed as he walked. His wet face wore a scowl, half pain, half auger. Mist Miller, kin I use yo phone ? lie asked, surlilv. Yes; there tis. The company had the privilege of usin~ it by courtesy. He limped up, and still rubbing his leg with one hand, took time phone off the hook with the other and put it to his ear. Hello, central---hello! Please gimme fo hund an sebenty-tliree on three sixt-fo fo hund an sehen - three on three sixt-fo. Hello! Suh? Yes sub; fo Imund an sebent- three on three sixt-fo. Street-car stables on three sixt-fo. Hello! hello! Hello! Dat you, street-car stables? Hello! Yes. Who dat? Oh ! Dat you, Mis Mellerdin? Yes, sub; yes, sub; Jim; Jim; dis Jim; JIM. G-i-m, Jim. Yes, sub; Jim, whar drive Ole Sue, at Mis Polk MillersMis Polk Miller drug sto. Yas, sub; yas, suh. Sub? Yas, suh. Oh! Mis Mellerdin, kin I get off to- night? Sub? Yes, sub. Matter? Dat ole muleOle Sueshe done tun fool; gone to balkin. I cant do nuttin tall wid her. She am got no sense. She oon pull a poun. Sub? Yas, sub. Nor, suh. Yas, suli. Nor, sub ; I done try evything. I done whup her mnos to death. She aimi got no reason. She oon do nuttin. She done haul off an leetle mo knock my brains out; she (lone kick me right 1)011 mcli laigpon my right laig. (He stooped over and rubbed it again at the ic- flection.) Done bark it all up. Sub ? Yas, suli. Tell nine, oclock ; yas, suh ; reckon so; II try it leetl e longer. Yas, sub ; yas, suh. Good nightgood by ! He hung the phone back on the hook, stooped and rubbed mis leg. Thankee, Mist Miller! Good-night. He liml)ecl to the door, and still stooping over and rubbing his leg, opened it. As lie passed out, without turning his head, lie said, as ifto himself, but to be heard l)y us, I wish I hind a hundred an twenty-five dollars. I bonn Id buy dat durned ole mule, an cut her doggoned tlmoat. THOMAS NELsON PAGE. FARMER TOMPKINS AND THE c~c~o~ HA. A FELLER came out here to-day a showed a book to me; One at Id surely oughter havetwelve parts, ad one was free. He said CE how twas sure to tell me all Id wanter know, N called the thin~ a Cyclopeeor suthmin kinder so. It seemed a purty fine old booka reghar sort o prize Outil I ast him questions, when I seen hed told me lies. Tells evythiug ! says I. Thats goodhi fac, sir, thats the best Khmd of a hook I ever seed, but think Id like a test Before I buy her. Lemme see! What does the volume say About time prospects of the comm year for oats a hay? I thought hed flop for laughin when I ast the feller that. N when I ast him Whats the joke ? he looked almi~,lmty flat. It dont pro.,uosticate, says he. That aint the piut ! says I. What Inm a-astnm you is will the blame thing prophesy ? N theim he turned the pa0es quick, a showed me hots o stuff About Egyptians, amid a sqimib about an Earl named Duff. But when I ast him if it told a cure for tatem- bugs, He said it didnt, but it had a history of mugs! Nd Ill be derned if that there book he said would tell so much Had anything on ammy pm~,e Id ever care to touch; N thmenhaw! haw I chuicked that pert young swindler from the place So quick he hadnt time to take his smile down off his face; Nd after him I threw his bag n twelve - part Cyclopee My great-grandfathers almanacs still good enough for me! JOHN KEEDRICK BANGS. EDITORS DRAWER. 159 TERRY AND HIS REVERENCE. A CERTAIN Irish village character, noted alike for his habitual indolence, immoderate indulgence, and ready wit,was once approached by the parish priest, who desired a days work done in his garden. Terry, said he, if you work steady for inc all day and drink nothing, Ill give you a glass at six oclock as well as the pay. Done, yer riverence, returned the other. I know yere a mau of yer worrnd, an, plase the pigs, Ill be wan too ! He performed the days work accordingly, and when he went to the kitchen door at sun- down, received his pay and a small wine glass, which his reverend employer handed him al- ready filled with whiskey. After tossing off the thimbleful, lie held the tiny vessel up quizzically and remarked, An how do they make them, yer riverence? Why, they blow them, Terry, answered the unsuspecting cleric. Faix, thin, yer riverence, replied Terry, with a twinkle, Im thinkin the man that blew that was short o breath ! Aware that he had had the worst of the en- connter, the worthy priest bargained with his neer-do-weel parishioner for a second days work, with the stipulation that on this occa- sion he should hold an empty tnmbler aiid say when himself at the pouring out of the beverage. Gradually the decanter grew depleted and the goblet full, but no word escaped Terry. His reverence paused of his own accord and severely regarding his laborer, remarked, Dont you know, Terry, that every drop of this is a nail in 3-oar coffin ? Troth, thin, yer riverence, responded the unabashed one, while ye have the hammer in yer han ye may as well put in wan or two inoic ! A CLEVER MOTTO. IT is not common to find keen and brilliant scholarship in men devoted to business par- snits. The occasional examples of this, espe- cially when that scholarship flowers into wit, are worth noting. A New York gentleman, who had retained and cultivated his devotion to classical studies, had an intimate friend, who was, and maybe is to-day, a rector in New Jersey. The clergyman was a great smoker, and his friend a few years ago sent him a Christmas remembrance of choice tobacco and cigars. Accompanying the box was this motto: Aa/3~ %pp.~a r~ f3aKxtKov 0E yap ~/NXEa, or, as it might be rapidly read, Labe dorema tobaccicon, segar phileo. Englished this be- comes the affectionate greeting, Accept this Bacehic gift, for I love you. Porson was famous for his Gr~uco-Engiish epigrams and jokes, hut lie never made a more delightful finn of its class than the one we have cited. UNPLEASANTLY LIKE. MInmIL: I cant bear to look at dudes. Tbey are so like buman beings. 160 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE HABIT OF THE HUMORIST. MY friend Smithers is a humorist by pro- fessionthat is to say, he makes a good living out of professed humor. He is a solemn sort of person in his general demeanor. It has been said of him, by those who know him only by sight, that he has a secret sorrow concealed somewhere about his person; that ~he canker of care is apparently at work gnawing away at his vitalswhich acconnts, they say, for the air of depression he carries about with him when he goes before the public. I, who know hini well, have noticed that this depressed at- inospheric quality is not affected. It is habit- nal with him, but it mnst not be attributed to any canker, cark, or care. He is not depressed. He has no canker. Cark he knows not, and care is a word utterly unknown to the bright lexicon of his youth. His is a case of sunshine confined. His life is a bit of melody printed in the guise of a funeral march. He perpetu- ally reminds me of a babbling brook running through a dark nutraversable forest. His melancholic is not an internal disorderit is simply an external evidence of something which does not exist. To nse his own ex- pression, He is built that way. Why dont you brace lip, I said to hini a few days ago, an(l assume an external gayety if you have it not ? Why should I ? he replied. Do you want me to ruin my proslIects in life, to pass over entirely the question of preserving my individuality F~ But your appearance is a bit of deceit. You are not an undertaker, but you look like one. You look like a funeral director whose last friend has died, and given the contract for burying him to a rival. What would you have me look likea ballet dander, an acrobat, or a snow-shoveller? No, I wouldnt at all. Make yourself look like a humorist. How ? he asked. In what respect can I change my appearance so as to let the world know that I live by jokes alone? Shall I write jests on my shirt bosoms, and wear theni as an accessory to a dress suit? Shall I wear trousers that excite the derision of the pub- lie? Shall I wear an absurd hat, ridiculous shoes, laughable waistcoats, and gauzy, comi- cal conceits in the way of neck-gear? How should a humorist appear on the outside, I would like to know ? You are talking foolishly. Of course I would not have you appear nudignifled, but you shonid cultivate an air of gayety, you should give the impression that your life is a laughyou neednt make an epitaph of your- self six days of the week, and come out as an obituary on the seventh. Hold on a minute, he observed. Ill take that down. Its good enongh to print. Then he noted my remark in the little blank hook which is his inseparable companion. As I understand you, he continued, cbs- ing the book languidly, and putting it back in his pocket, you want me to go before the public disguised as a grin. Shall I show my teeth? Is it necessary for inc to be a broad grill or just an ordinary smile, or is it as a con- vulsion of mirth you think I should show my- self to ol woXXoi ? You wilfully misunderstand me, I said. In the first place your countenance is tile picture of asperity. Your eye is cold, and when it fastens npon a proper subject it glit- ters. You dress usually ill black; your clothes are sombre, and I never saw you smile in pub- lic but once in my life, and that was when somebody threatened to shoot you for nsing his name in a comic poem. You do not do yourselfjustice, my dear fellow. Aim! I begin to comprehend you. You want me to warm my eye over, and envelop it with a film when I fasten it npon a fellow- occupant of a horse-car, for instance. Then you wish me to wear that mild, conciliating expression that is so characteristic of tIme sa- tirist, and to do myself absolute justice you would have me overcome with terror when I am threatened by a weak-minded maniac who carries a Colts revolver charged with lead, and in addition to all this I must dress like a rain- 1)0w. Well, I refuse. I shall under no cir- cuimstances wear the sign of my profession on my sleeve. If I appeared as you wish me to, my jests would seeni mournful by contrast, and for this very reason I intelid to maintain that air of melancholy reserve that you claim is characteristic of me. As I now stand, peo- ple say, How strange it is that one so solemn and sad as he cau be so exquisitely humor- ous! It will be an unhappy day for my lar- der, my family, and my inner man when people observe, How singular that time jokes of a living laugh, of a walking jest, of a palpitant bon-ninot, are so abominably melancholy! That is my platform, and now that you hm~ ye it, dont talk to me again about makin~ a sand- wick man of myself to advertise my business. So say no more. It is my treat. What will you havea hair-cut or a quinine pill ? And under the genial influence of the latter, I canine to see that, after all, my witty though funereal-appearing friend might perli aps be in the right. A FORTUNATE ESCAPE. IT was a dainty fair-haired maid of Mil- waukee, of some five or six summers, who sat beside a little friend relating the advent of a new baby in the family. She was borned while your mamma was way down Sonth, wasnt she ? asked time friemid. Yes, replied the proud older sister. Well, I tell you, you were very fortunate to have her bormi white down there, because most of the little babies that are bormi in the South are born black, was the congratulatory response of the wide-eyed friend. WE are quite in the electric way. We boast that we have made electricity our slave, but the slave whom we do not understand is our master. And before we know him we shall be transformed. Mr. Edison pro- poses to send us over the country at the rate of one hundred miles an houi. This pleases us, because we fancy we shall save time, and because we are taught that the chief object in lifeis to get there quickly. We really have an idea that it is a gain to annihilate distance, forgetting that as a matter of personal expe- rience we are already too near most people. But this speed by rail will enable us to live in Philadelphia and do business in New York. It will make the city of Chicago two hundred miles square. And the bigger Chicago is, the more important this xvorld becomes. This pleasing anticipationthat of travelling by lightning, and all being huddled togetheris nothing to the promised universal illumina- tion by a diffused light that shall make mid- night as bright as noonday. We shall then save all the time there is, and at the age of thirty - five have lived the allotted seventy years, and long, if not for G6tterddmrnerung, at least for some world where, by touching a but- ton, we can discharge our limbs of electricity and take a little repose. The most restless and ambitious of us can hardly conceive of Chicago as a desirable future state of exist- ence. This, however, is only the external or super- ficial view of the subject; at the best it is only symbolical. Mr. Edison is wasting his time in objective experiments, while we are in the deepest ignorance as to our electric personali- ty or our personal electricity. We begin to apprehend that we are electric beings, that these outward manifestations of a subtle form THE ELECTRIC WAY. 162 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. are only hints of our internal state. Mr. Edi- son should turn his attention from physics to humanity electrically considered in its social condition. We have heard a great deal about affinities. We are told that one person is posi- tive and another negative, and that represent- ing socially opposite poles they should come together and make an electric harmony, that two positives or two negatives repel each oth- er, and if conventionally united end in divorce, and so on. We read that such a man is mag- rietic, meaning that he can poll a great many votes; or that such a woman thrilled her audience, meaning probably that they were in an electric condition to l)e shocked by her. Now this is what we want to find outto know if persons are really magnetic or sympa- thetic, and how to tell whether a person is positive or negative. In politics we are quite at sea. What is the good of sending a man to Washington at the rate of a hundred miles an hour if we are uncertain of his electric state? The ideal House of Representatives ought to he pretty nearly balancedhalf positive, half iwgative. Some Congresses seem to be made up pretty much of negatives. The time for the electrician to test the candidate is before he is put in nomination, not dump him into Congress as we do now, utterly ignorant of whether his currents run from his heels to his head or from his head to his heels, uncertain, indeed, as to whether he has magnetism to run in at all. Nothing could be more un- scientific than the process and the result. In social life it is infinitely worse. You, an electric unmarried man, enter a room full of attractive women. How are you to know who is positive and who is negative, or who is a maiden lady in equilibrium, if it be true, as scientists affirm, that the genus old maid is one in whom the positive currents neutralize the negative currents? Your affinity is per- haps the plainest woman in the room. But beauty is a juggling sprite, entirely uncon- trolled by electricity, and you are quite likely to make a mistake. It is absurd the way we blunder on in a scientific age. We touch a button, and are married. The judge touches another button, and we are divorced. If when we touched the first button it revealed us both negatives, we should start back in horror, tbr it is only before engagement that two nega- tives make an affirmative. That is the reason that some clergymen refuse to marry a di- vorced woman; they see that she has made one electric mistake, and fear she will make another. It is all very well for the officiatin~ clergyman to ask the two intending to com- mit matrimony if they have a license from the town clerk, if they are of age or have the con- sent of parents, and have a million; but the vital point is omitted. Are they electric af- finities? It should be the duty of the town clerk, by a battery, or by some means to be discovered by electricians, to find out the gal- vanic habit of the parties, their prevailin~ electric condition. Temporarily they may seem to be in harmony, and may deceive themselves into the belief that they are at opposite poles equidistant from the equator, andi certain to meet on that imaginary line in matrimonial bliss. Dreadful will be the awa- kening to an insipid life, if they find they both have the same sort of currents. It is saidi that women change their minds and their clisposi- tions, that mcii are fickle, and that both give way after marriage to natural inclinations that were suppressed while they were on the good behavior that the supposed necessity of get- ting married imposes. rphis is so notoriously true that it ought to create a public panic. But there is hope in the new light. If we understand it, persons are born in a certain electrical condlition, and substantially continue in it, however much they may apparently wob- ble about under the influence of infirm minds and acquired wickedness. There are, of course, variations of the compass to be reckoned with, and the magnet may occasionally be bewitched by near and powerful attracting objects. But, on the whole, the magnet remains the Same, and it is probable that a persons normal elec- tric condition is the thing in hini least liable to dangerous variation. If this he true, the best basis for niatrimnony is tIme electric, audi our social life wouldi have fewer disappoint- ments if men amid women went about labelled with their scientifically ascertained electric qualities. cHA RLES DUDLEY wAnNEmi. ON AN ORATOR. NAMELESS YET FAMOUS. Liz has no ideasbut success Is his extraordinary. I think he owes it, more or less, To his vocabulary, Which knows no mnot That does not go Through fourteen syllables or so; And people think if lie knows his intent A genius lie must be Imoma heaven sent. LOOKED SAFER. THE following incidemit occurred some years ago, when stage-travellimig in the White Moumi- tam region was more comnnion thami now. One very dark and cloudy night, omme of the well-known Jehus was drivitig his stage, both lamps brilhiamitly lighted, and hearing tli gal- loping of an approaching horseman he l)ulle(l up his team to let himn pass. In another miii- mite there was a tremendous collision with his leaders, and quickly getting down from his box, he fonud the rider, an Irishman, had rid- den squarely in betweemi the leaders, and all three horses were fiomimiderimig in the inmmmmd. After a good deal of work the animals were at last disentangled, and then tIme following dia- logue took place: DalvEmi. How in thunder camne you in there? Didmmt you see my lights ? PAT. Faith I did; an I thought Id go atween cmii. READING TIlE DECLARATION BEFORE WASHINGTONS ARMY, NEW YORK, JULY 9, 1776.

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Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 85, Issue 506 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York July, 1892 0085 506
Charles D. Deshler Deshler, Charles D. How The Declaration Was Received In The Old Thirteen 165-187

HARP ERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOL. LXXXV. JULY, 1892. T is not an idle curiosity merely that moves us to hold aside the veil which time has interposed be- tween the past and the present, so that we may more closely scan the conduct and de- meanor of our Revolutionary ancestors at critical or exciting junctures. Rather is it a natural feeling of filial pride and affection, coupled with the confident con- viction that although they were men of the same clay as ourselves, and subject to the foibles and infirmities which have been the heritage of men in all ages and lands, they were yet unsoiled by the meaner frailties and vices which have so often degraded peoples and nations, were endowed with manlier, more robust, and more sturdy virtues than the generality of men, and could safely stand the test of the most trying scrutiny to which their acts and motives might be subjected. It is in this loving and reverent spirit, and in the conviction that their virtues vastly preponderated over their foibles and failings, that the writer of this me- moir has sought to discover the emotions and bearing of the men of Seventy-six when the tidings first reached them of the Declaration of Independence, and to col- lect in one group such accounts as are extant of the proceedings which attended its reception and proclamation, and of the ceremonies and solemnities with which its reading and promulgation were cele- brated by the people of the Old Thir- teen. And if I dwell occasionally on some particulars which naturally impress us of this later and more fastidious day with a sense of the ludicrous, I trust that my pleasantries may not be set down to any spirit of irreverence, the more es- pecially as due prominence will be given and due .significance will be awarded to other particulars which are impressive alike by their gravity, their sobriety, their dignity, and their display of the most disinterested and most courageous patri- otisin. As we all know, the draft of that mem- orable instrument which declared us an copyright, 1892, by Harper and Brothers. All rights reserved. voL. LxxxY.No. 506.i 7 No. DVI. By Cbarle5.D. Deibler. 166 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. independent nation was formally adopted by the Continental Congress on July 4, 1776. The next day, July 5th, the follow- ing resolution was adopted by the Con- gress then in session in Philadelphia: Resolved, That copies of the Declaration be sent to the several Assemblies, Conventions, and Councils of Safety, and to the several Commanding Officers of the Continental Troops, that it be proclaimed in each of the United States, and at the head of the Army. It will be noted that in this resolution the Continental Congress observed the most punctilious deference to the recog- nized authorities of the several States. No copies of the Declaration were or- dered to be sent to individuals in either of them. They were to be sent to offi- cials or to representative bodies only. On the same day, or within a day or two thereafter, the President of Congress, John Hancock, enclosed a copy of the Declaration to each of the States which had adopted a permanent government, and to the conventions (or provincial congresses) or to the councils or commit- tees of safety of those States which had not yet formed regular governments, and in each case the document was accom- panied by a letter in the terms following: I do myself the honour to enclose, in obe- dience to the commands of Congress, a copy of the Declaration of Independence, which you will please to have proclaimed in your Colony, in such way and manner as you shall judge best. The important consequences resulting to the American States from this Declaration of Independence, considered as the ground and foundation of a future government, will naturally suggest the propriety of proclaim- ing it in such a mode that the people may he universally informed of it. On the 6th of July a copy of the Dec- laration was sent by President Hancock to General Washington, accompanied by a letter, in which he said: The Congress have judged it necessary to dissolve the connexion between Great Britain and the American Colonies, and to declare them free and independent States, as you will perceive by the enclosed Declaration, which I am directed to transmit to you, and to re- quest you will have it proclaimed at the head of the army, in the way you shall think most proper.~~ Similar letters were sent to the other generals commanding in the Northern and Southern departments. AT PHILADELPHIA. The first State to respond by its repre- sentative body was Pennsylvania. In the minutes of the Committee of Safety of that State, then in session at Philadelphia, under date of July 6, 1776, is the follow- ing entry: The President of the Congress this day sent the following Resolve of Congress, which is directed to be entered on the Minutes, to this Board : Here follows the resolution of the Con- tinental Congress quoted above. In consequence of the above Resolve,Let- ters were wrote to the Counties of Bucks, Ches- ter, Northumberland, Lancaster, and Berks, en- closing a copy of said Declaration, requesting the same to be published on Monday next [July Sthl, at the places where the election of Delegates are to be held. Ordered, ~~hat the Sheriff of Philadelphia read or cause to be read and proclaimed at the State House in the City of Philadelphia, on Monday, the 8th day of July instant, at twelve oclock at noon of the same day, the Declaration of the Representatives of the United Colonies of America, and that he cause all his Officers and the Constables of the said city to attend the reading thereof. Resolved, That every member of this Coin- mittec in or near the city be ordered to meet. at the Committee Chamber before twelve oclock on Monday, to proceed to the State House, where the Declaration of Independence is to be proclaimed. The Committee of Inspection of this City and Liberties were requested to attend the proclamation at the State House, on Monday next, at twelve oclock. In conformity with this action of the Pennsylvania Committee of Safety, the Declaration was proclaimed in Philadel- phia at the time appointed, and the pro- ceedings are described in the following brief report which appeared in the Phila- delphia and New York Gazettes of the ensuing day: Philadelphia, July 5, 1776.This day the Committee of Safety and the Committee of Inspection went in procession to the State House, where the Declaration of Independency of the United States of A~~~~merica was read to a very large nnmber of the inhabitants of this City and County, which was received with general applause and heartfelt satisfaction and in the evening our late Kings Coat of Arms was brought from the Hall in the State House, where the said Kings Courts were HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 167 AT PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA. formerly held,* and burnt, amidst the acciama- I have been unable to discover any tions of a crowd of spectators. confirmatory evidence of this dramatic, On the above occasion the Declaration and, I suspect, entirely fabulous, perform- was read by John Nixon from the plat- ance. I have no doubt, however, that it form of an observatory which had been was published in The Scots Magazine in erected many years before by the cele- entire good faith, and that it was derived brated Dr. Rittenhouse, near the Walnut from a source on which its conductors Street front of the State-house, for the placed full reliance, as that magazine purpose of observing a transit of Venus. was a constant friend of this country; its At evening bonfires were lighted, the pages were largely devoted to American houses were illuminated, and it was not news, its information relative to our af- until a thunder-shower at midnight com- fairs was full and generally accurate, and pelled the people to retire that the sounds its sympathies for the American people of rejoicing were hushed.t in their controversy with Great Britain In a copy of The Scots Magazine for were generously and frankly avowed. 1776, published at Edinburgh, Scotland, AT TRENTON, NEW JERSEY. which is in the writers possession, in the number for Au ust, occurs the following Although nothing is recorded on the g subject in the minutes of the Provincial curious item, descriptive of some ceremo- nies alleged to have been observed by the Congress of New Jersey at this time, the formal ratification by that body having Continental Congress on the day of its been deferred to a later period, probably adoption of the Declaration: from prudential or politic reasons, yet A letter from Philadelphia says: The 4th certain of its more active members caused of July, 1776, the Americans appointed as a the Declaration to be proclaimed in Tren- day of fasting and prayer, preparatory to ton where the Provincial Congress was their dedicating their country to God, which was done in the following manner: The Con- then in session, on the same day when lt gress being assembled, after having declared was promulgated in Philadelphia, name- America independent, they had a Crown placed ly, July 8th. The following description on a Bible, which by prayer and solemn de- of the observances appeared in the New votion they offered to God, This religious York and Philadelphia Gazettes of July ceremony being ended, they divided the Crown 9th, and also in The Scots Magazine for into thirteen parts, each of the United Prov- August, 1776, from which last it is here inc es taking a part. given verbatim: * The hail in which the Kings Courts had Trenton, July 8, 1776.The Declaration of hitherto heen held was in the second story of the Independence was this day proclaimed here, State-house. During the period of preparation for together with the new Constitution of the the Revolution the Provincial Congress of Peunsyl- Colony of late established, * and the resolve vania held its sessions in this room. F Lossings held-book of the Revolution, vol. ii., * The Constitution of New Jersey had heen adopt- p. 287. ed on July 2,1776. 168 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the Provincial Congress for continuing the administration of justice dnring the interim. The members of the Provincial Congress, the gentlemen of the Committee, the officers and privates of the Militia, nuder arms, and a large concourse of the inhabitants attended on this great and solemn occasion. The Declaration and other proceedings were received with loud acciamations. The people are now convinced, of what we ought long since to have known, that our enemies have left us no middle way between perfect freedom and abject slavery. In the field, we trust, as well as in council, the inhabitants of New Jersey will be found ever ready to support the freedom and indepen- dence of America. AT EASTON PENNSYLVANIA. On the same day that the Declaration was receiving the approval of the people of Philadelphia and Trenton, it was pro- claimed in Easton, Pennsylvania, with the like satisfactory result, as appears from the following contemporaneous ac- count: Easton, Northampton County, July 8, 1776. This day the Declaration of Independency was receivedhere,and proclaimed in the follow- ing order: The Colonel, and all other Field Offi- cers of the first Battalion,repaired to the Court House, the Light Infantry Conipany marching there with drums beating, fifes playing, and the Standard (the device of which is the Thir- teen United Colonies) which was ordered to be displayed; and after that the Declaration was read aloud to a great number of specta- tors, who gave their hearty assent with three loud huzzas, and cried out, May God long pre- serve the Free and Independent States of America.~~ Another account of the occurrence is given in a newspaper published in Ger- man at Easton, by Henry Miller, in its issue of July 1Q, 1776, which is thus trans- lated: Immediately on the news of this event the Declarationbecoming known at Easton, it was hailed by the citizens of the town and surrounding country hy a public demonstra- tion. Captain Abraham Labar, with his com- pany, paraded through the streets with drums beating and colors flying, and was followed and joined by the citizens en masse. They met in the Court-house, where the Declaration of Independence was read by Robert Levers.~ AT PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY. On the evening of July 9th the Decla- ration was proclaimed in Princeton, New Jersey. The following account of its re- ception there is extracted from The Scots Magazine for August, 1776: Princetown, New Jersey, July 10.Last night Nassau Hall was grandly illuminated, and independency proclainied under a triple volley of musketry, and universal acciamations for the prosperity of the United Colonies. The ceremony was conducted with the greatest de- comm. AT NEW BRUNSWICK, NEW JERSEY. The compiler of this memorial has not been able to find any contemporaneous account of the reception and promulga- tion of the Declaration in New Brunswick; nor is it probable that such an account ever existed, except in private letters. There is, however, satisfactory grounds for the belief that a copy of it was re- ceived on July 9th by the resident mem- bers of the Committee of Safety (Colonel Azariah Dunham and Hendrick Fisher), or by the County Conimittee of Corre- spondence, and that it was read at a pub- lic meeting held either on that or on the following day. There are several tradi- tional accounts of its proclamation at this place, which, if collated, would doubtless give fuller and more accurate informa- tion as to the incident than may be de- rived from any of them singly. The version of it which the writer hereof had from his grandfather, Jacob Dun- ham, M.D., in 1830 or 1831, was substan- tially as follows: When the Declaration of Independence was brought to New Brunswick, I was a boy about nine years old. There was great ex- citement in the town over the news, most of the people rejoicing that we were free and in- dependent, but a few looking very sour over it. My father [Colonel Azariah Dunham] was one of the Committee of Safety of the province, and also one of the County Committee of Cor- respondence, and one of the Town Committee of Inspection and Observation. The Declara- tion was brought by an express rider, who was at once furnished with a fresh horse, and despatched on his way to New York. The County Committee and the Town Committee were immediately convened, and it was de- cided that the Declaration should be read in the public street [Albany Street], in front of the White Hall tavern, that the reader should be Colonel John Neilson, and that the members of the two committees should exert themselves to secure the attendance of as many as possi- ble of the stanch friends of independence, so as to overawe any disaffected Tories, and re- sent any interruption of the meeting that they might attempt. Although these Tories were not numerous, they were, most of them, men of wealth and influence, and were very active~ Accordingly, at the time appointed [I cannot now recall the hour, if indeed, my grandfather HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 169 stated it], the Whigs assembled in full force, Congress from Delaware, while yet fresh wearing an air of great determination. A from signing the Declaration, despatched stage was improvised iu front of the White Ensign Wilson with an account of the Hall tavern, and from it Colonel Neilson, sur- ronnded by the other i~nemhers of the commit- proceedings attending its ad option to his tee, read the Declaration with grave delihera- friend Colonel John Haslet, at Dover, tion and emphasis. At the close of the read- Delaware. On July 6th, Colonel Haslet ing there was prolonged cheering. A few wrote to Mr. Rodney, in response, as fol- Tories were present; but although they sneer- lows: ed, and looked their dissatisfaction in other ways, they were prudent enongh not to make ~ congratulate yon, sir, on the important demonstration. day which restores to every Auierican his any birthright; a day which every freeman will Whatever else my grandfather told me record with gratitude, and the millions of pos- of the incident, which made such an im- terity read with rapture. Ensign Wilson ar- pression on my youthful mind, has faded rived here last night; a fine turtle feast at from my memory in the sixty years which have since elapsed. IN SUSSEX COUNTY NEW JEnSEY. The tidings of the Declaration were carried post- haste to the re- motest parts of New Jersey, and were handed on from one town or county committee to another, so that no out-of-the-way corner even was left in ignorance of the soul-stirring instrument. A letter Dover anticipated and annonnced the Decla- from Joseph Barton, in remote Sussex ration of Congress; even the barrister himself County, to his cousin Henry Wisner, with- [alluding to a mutual friend] laid aside his out doubt reflects the feelings of many in airs of reserve, mighty happy. those days of suspense. Writing from It is probable that accompanying Mr. Newton as early as July 9, 1776, he says: Rodneys letter was one from President Snt,It gives a great turn to the minds of Hancock to the Committee of Safety of our people, declaring our independence. Now Delaware, enclosing a copy of the Decla- we know what to depend on. For my part, J ration. It is certain t~hat a copy of it have been at a great stand: I could hardly was received at Dover simultaneously own the King and fight against him at the with Rodneys letter, as we learn from same time; hut now these matters are cleared the following interesting account, which up. Heart and hand shall move together I dont think there will be five Tories in~ is transcribed from Saundersons Biog- part of the country in ten days after mati~.~ raphy of the Signers: are well known. We have had great numbers At the time Mr. Rodneys letter reached who could do nothing until we were declared Dover, the election of officers of a new bat- a free State, who are now ready to spend their talion was going on. The Committee of Safety, lives and fortunes in defence of our country. however, immediately met, and after receiving I expect a great turn one way or the other be- the intelligence, proceeded to the Court House, fore I see you again. man in the world; he is tall, thin, and slender as a AT DOVER DELAWARE. reed, pale, his face not bigger than a large apple, yet On the 4th of July, 1776, Cmsar Rod- there is sense and fire, spirit, wit, and humor in his countenance. He made himself very merry with ney,* then a delegate to the Continental Rn ~les and his pretended scruples and timidities at * John Adams, in his diary, thus describes this the last Congress.Life and Works of John Ad- gentleman: Caisar Rodney is the oddest-looking ems, vol. ii., p. 364. AT PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY. 170 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. where (the election being stopped) the Pres- ident read the Declaration of Congress, and the resolution of the House of Assembly for the appointment of a Convention [Provincial Congress]; each of which received the highest approbation of the people, in three huzzas. The Committee then went in a body hack to their room, where they sent for a picture of the King of Great Britain, and made the drnm- mer of the infantry hear it before the Presi- dent. They then marched two and two, fol- lowed by the light infantry in slow time, with music, round the Square; then forming a cir- cle about a fire prepared in the middle of the Square for that purpose, the President, pro- nouncing the following words, committed it to the flames: Compelled by strong necessi- ty, thus we destroy even the shadow of that King who refused to reign over a free peo- ple. Three loud huzzas were given by the surrounding crowd; and the friends of liher- ty gained new courage to support the cause in which they had embarked. IN NEW YORK CITY. As has already been said, on July 6th the President of the Continental Con- gress wrote to Washington, enclosing a copy of the Declaration, and requesting him to have it proclaimed at the head of the army. It was received by Washing- ton at his headquarters in New York on the 9th, and immediately the following order (transcribed from his orderly book) was issued: The Continental Congress, impelled by the dictates of duty, policy, and necessity, have been pleased to dissolve the connexion which subsisted between this country and Great Britain, and to declare the United Colonies of America Free and Independent States. The sev- eral brigades are to he drawn up this evening on their respective parades at six oclock, when the Declaration of Con,,,ress, showing the grounds and reasons of this measure, is to be read with an audible voice. The General hopes that this important event will serve as a fresh incentive to every officer and soldier to act with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of his country depend, under God, solely on the success of our arms; and that he is now in the service of a State possessed of sufficient power to reward his merit, and advance him to the highest hon- ours of a free country. Observe how clearly Washington com- prehended and foreshadowed the opera- tion of the new order of things initiated by the Declaration to place the highest honors of a free country within the reach of every citizen. At the time appointed by Washington, as is described by an eye-witness, the fol- lowing proceedings took place: The hrigades were formed in hollow square on their respective para(les. One of these bri- gades was encamped on the Commons, where the New York City Hall now stands. The hollow square was formed about the spot where the Park Fountain stands. Washington was within the square, on horsehack, and the Declaration was read in a clear voice by one of his aids. When it was concluded, three hearty cheers were given.- Lossings Field- book of the Revolution, vol. ii., p.501, note. AT WHITE PLAINS NEW YORK. On or before the 9th of July the letter of President Hancock to the Provincial Congress of New York, enclosing a copy of the Declaration, was received by that body, for in the minutes of its proceed- ings for Tuesday, July 9th, the following entry appears: AT DOVER, DELAWARE. HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 171 In Convention of the Representatives of the State of New York, White Plains, July 9, 176. Resolved unanimously, That the reasons as- signed by the Continental Congress for de- claring the United Colonies free and indepen- dent States are cogent and conclusive; and that while we lament the cruel necessity which has rendered this measure unavoidable, we approve the same, and will, at the risk of our lives and fortunes, join with the other Col- onies in supporting it. Resolved, That a copy of the said Declara- tion and the aforegoing resolution be sent to the Chairman of the Committee of the Coun- ty of Westchester, with orders to publish the same with beat of drums at this place on Tiies- day next, and to give directions that it be published with all convenient speed in the several Districts within the said County; and that five hundred copies thereof be forthwith transmitted to the other County Committees within the State of New York, with orders to cause the same to be published in tbe several Districts of their respective Counties. Resolved unanimously, That the Delegates of this State in the Continental Congress be, and they hereby are, authorized to concert and adopt all such measures as they may deem conducive to the happiness and welfare of the United States of America. The above minute was signed, John Jay, Abraham Yates, John Sloss Hobart, Abraham Brasher, William Smith, Com mittee on draft of Resolutions. IN NEW YORK CITY. Before the receipt of these resolutions from their County Committee, the more patriotic or the more effervescent of the citizens of the city of New York cele- brated the event in a spontaneous and spirited way quite in keeping with the character they have always exhibited in moments of excitement. The following graphic account of their doings is repro- duced from The Scots Magazine for Au- gust, 1776: New York, July 11, 1776.The fourth in- stant was rendered remarkable by the most important event that has ever happened in the American Colonies, an event which doubt- less will be celebrated through a long succes- sion of future ages by anniversary commemo- rations, and be considered as a grand era in the history of the American States. On this auspicious day the representatives of the Thirteen United Colonies, by the providence of God, unanimously agreed to and voted a Proclamation declaring the said Colonies free and independent States, which was proclaimed at the State House in Philadelphia on Monday last, and received with joyful acciamations. Copies were also distributed to all the Cob 6 IN NEW YORK (AT HEADQUARTERS). 172 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. nies. On Tuesday last [July 9th] it was read at the head of each brigade of the Continental Army posted at and near New York, and every- where received with loud huzzas and the ut- most demonstrations of joy. The same even- ing the equestrian statue of George Third which Tory pride and folly reared in the year 1770, was by the sons of freedom laid prostrate in the dirt, the just desert of an ungrateful tyrant. The lead wherewith this monument was made is to be run into bullets, to assimi- late with the brain of our infatuated enemies, who, to gain a pepper-corn, have lost an em- pire. Quos Deus vult jperdere, jprt~s dementat. 1 Lord Clare, in the House of Commons, had de- clared that a pepper-corn in acknowledgment of Britains right to tax America was of more impor- tance than millions withont it * In his diary for August 20, 1774, John Adams gives the following description of this statue on the Bowling Green: Between the fort [on the Battery] and the city is a beautiful ellipse of land, railed in with solid iron, in the centre of which is a statue of his Majesty on horseback, very large, of solid lead gilded with gold, standing on a pedestal of marble, very high (Life and Works of John Adams, vol. ii., p. 346). In his Field-book of the Revolution (vol. ii., p. 801, notes), Mr. Lossing describes this statue in greater detail. This statue of George the Third, he says, was equestrian, made of lead, and gilded. It was the workmanship of Wilton, then a celebrated statuary of London, and was the first equestrian effigy of his Majesty yet erected. It was placed on its ped- estal, in the centre of the Bowling Green, August 21, 1770. The greater portion of the statue was sent to Litchfield, Connecticut, and there converted into bullets by two daughters and a son of Governor Wolcott, a Miss Marvin, and a Mrs. Beach. Accord- ing to an account current of the cartridges made from this statue, found among the papers of Gov- ernor Wolcott, it appears that it furnished materials for 42,000 bullets. The statue was of natural size, both horse and man. The horse was poised upon his hinder legs. The King had a crown upon his head; his right hand held the bridle-reins, the left rested upon the handle of a sword. There were no stirrups. The following is the memorandum, or account current spoken of by Mr. Lossing as preserved in the papers of Governor Wolcott: An Equestrian Statue of George the Third of Great Britain was erected in the city of New York, on the Bowling Green, at the lower end of Broadway. Most of the materials were lead, but richly gilded to resemble gold. At the beginning of the Revolution this statue was overthrown. Lead then being scarce and dear, the statue was broken in pieces and the metal transported to Litchfield, a place of safety. The ladies of this village converted the Lead into Cartridges for the Army, of which the following is an account. 0. W. Mrs. Marvin Cartridges, 6,058 Ruth Marvin 11.592 Laura Wolcott 8.378 Mary Ann Wolcott 10790 Frederick ~ 936 Mrs. Beach 1,802 Made by Sundry persons 2,182 Gave Litchfield Militia on alarm 50 Let the Regiment of CoiWiggles- worth have 300 Cartridges 42,088. On the day after this amiable little eb- ullition of the people of New York, there was rejoicing in the Debtors Prison in New York city. This prison was in an upper floor of the City Hall, then stand- ing on what is now the corner of Wall and Nassau streets, or the site of the pres- ent Treasury building. The rejoicing was due to the fact that on that day, in pur- suance of the Declaration of Indepen- dency, a general jail delivery, with re- spect to Debtors, took place here (Holts Journal for July 11, 1776). On Thursday, July 18th, a more formal celebration took place in the city of New York, which is described as follows in a contemporaneous report of it: New York, Thursday, July 25, 1776.On Thursday last [July 18th], pursuant to a re- solve of the Representatives of the Colony of New York, sitting in Congress, the Proclama- tion issued at Philadelphia the 4th inst., by the Continental Congress, declaring the Thir- teen United Colonies to be free and indepen- dent States, was read and published at the City Hall, when a number of the true friends of the rights and liberties of America attended and signified their approbation by loud accla- mations. After which, the British arms, from over the seat of justice in the Court House, was taken down, exposed, torn to pieces, and burnt. Another British arms, wrought in stone, in the front of the pediment without, was thrown to the ground and broken to pieces, and the picture of King George III., which had been placed in the Council Cham- ber, was thrown out, broken, torn to pieces, and burnt, of all which the people testified their approbation by repeated huzzas. The same day, we hear, the British arms from all the Churches in the city were ordered to be removed and destroyed. It is doubtful if this is an exact state- ment of the facts, so far, at least, as re- lates to the Kings arms in Trinity Church. A more correct statement, prob- ably, is the one which was made by the Rev. Dr. Inglis, the rector of Trinity Church, in a letter written by him to the Rev. Dr. Hind, dated October 31, 1776, on the State of the Anglo - American Church. Says Dr. Inglis: A fine equestrian statue of the King was pulled down and totally demolished after inde- pendency was declared. All the Kings arms, even those on the signs of taverns, were de- stroyed. The Committee sent me a message, which I esteemed a favor and indulgence, to have the Kings arms taken down in the Church, or else the mob would do it, and HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 173 might deface and injure the Church. I imme- diately complied (OCahlaghans Doe. Bi8t. N~ Y., vol. iii., p. 1058). Mr. Lossing remarks on the alleged or- der for the Kings arms in the churches to be removed and destroyed, that those in Trinity Church were taken down and carried to New Brunswick [British America] by Rev. Charles Inglis, D.D., at the close of the war, and now hang on the walls of a Protestant EpiscoT pal Church in St. John. AT WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS. Three days earlier than the occurrences last described the Declaration was rati- fied with great ardor by the people of Worcester, Massachusetts, and the event which it annonnced to the world was cel- ebrated with spirit and dignity. The fol- lowing is a contemporaneous account of the proceedings, from which it would seem that there were some wags among the excellent patriots of Worcester: Worcester, Massachusetts, Jaly 22, 1776. On Monday last [Jnly 15th] a nuniber of pa- triotick gentlemen of this town, animated with a love of their country, and to show their approbation of the measures lately taken by the Grand Council of America, assembi edon the Green near the Liberty Pole, where, after having displayed the colonrs of the Thirteen Confederate Colonies of America, the bells were set a ringing and the drums a beating; VOL. Lxxxv.No. 506.iS after which the Declaration of Independency of the United States was read to a large and respectable body (among whom were the Se- lectmen and Committee of Correspondence) assembled on the occasion, who testified their al)probation by repeated hnzzas, firing of mus- ketry and cannon, bonfires, and other deamon- strations of joy; when tIme arms of that tyrant in Great Britain, George III., of execrable memory, which in former days decorated, but of late disgraced the Conrt House in this town, were committed to the flames and con- smimed to ashes; after which a select company of the sons of freedom repaired to the Tavern lately known by the sign of the Kings Arms, which odions signatnre of despotism was taken down by order of the people, which was cheer- fully complied with by the Innkeeper, where the following toasts were drnnk, and the even- ing spent with joy, on the cemmencenment of the happy era: 1. Prosperity and Perpetuity to the United States of America. 2. Time President of the Grand Council of America. 3. The Grand Council of America. 4. His Excellency General Washington. 5. All the Generals in time American Army. 6. Commodore Hopkins. 7. The Officers and Soldiers in the Amen- can Army. S. The Officers and Seamen in the Anieri- can Navy. 9. The Patriots of America. 10. Every Friend of America. 11. George rejected, and Liberty protected. 12. Success to the American Arms. If. AT BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. 174 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 13. Sore eyes to all Tories, and a chestnut burr for an eyestone. 14. Perpetual itching without the benefit of scratching to the enemies of America. 15. The Council and Representatives of the State of Massachusetts Bay. 16. The Officers and Soldiers in the Massa- chusetts service. 17. The Memory of the brave General Warren. 18. The Memory of the magnanimous Gen- eral Montgomery. 19. Speedy redemption to all the Officers and Soldiers who are now prisoners of war among our enemies. 20. The State of Massachusetts Bay. 21. The Town. of Boston. 22. The Selectmen and Committee of Cor- respondence for the town of Worcester. 23. May the enemies of America be laid at her feet. 24. May the Freedom and Independence of America endure till the Sun glows dim with age, and this Earth returns to Chaos. The greatest decency and g6od order was observed, and at a suitable time each man re- turned to his respective home. IN BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. While the people of the city of New York were welcoming the Declaration at the old City Hall, the people of the Town of Boston were giving no uncer- tain utterance to their feelings at the State-house and elsewhere. The follow- ing is the account of their proceedings as published in the Boston papers of the time: Boston, Thursday, July 18, 1776.This day, pursuant to the order of the honourable Coun- cil, was proclaimed from the balcony of the State House in this town the Declaration of the American Congress, absolving the Ameri- can Colonies from their allegiance to the Brit- ish Crown, and declaring them free and inde- pendent. There were present on the occasion, in the Council Chamber, a nnmber of th Hononrable House of Repre- sentatives, the Magistrates, Ministers, Selectmen, and other gentlemen of Boston and the neighbouring towns; also the Commission Officers of the Continental Regi- g~ ments stationed here, and -~ other officers. Two of these ~ regiments were under arms in King Street, formed into three lines, on the north side of the street, and into thir- teen divisions; and a de- tachment from the Massa- chusetts regiment of artil- lery, -with two pieces of cannon, was on their right wing. At one oclock the Declaration was proclaimed by Colonel Crofts, the Sheriff of the County of Suffolk, which was received with great joy, expressed by three huzzas from a great concourse of people assembled on the occasion; after which, on a signal given, thir- teen pieces of cannon were fired from the fort on Fort Hill; the Forts at Dorchester Neck, the Castle, Nantasket, and Point Alderton likewise discharged their cannon; then the detachment of Artillery fired their cannon thirteen times, which was followed by the two regiments giving their fire from the thir- teen divisions in succession. These firinos corresponded to the number of the American States united. The ceremony closed with a proper collation to the gentlemen in the Coun- cil Chamber; during which the following Toasts were given by the President of the Council, and heartily pledged by the com- pany, viz.: 1. Prosperity and perpetuity to the United States of America. 2. The American Congress. 3. The General Court of the State of Mas- sachusetts Bay. 4. General Washington, and success to the arms of the United States. 5. The downfall of tyrants and tyranny. 6. The universal prevalence of civil aiid religious liberty. * It will be observed by the reader of these con- temporaneous accounts of the reception of the Dec- laration that our Revolutionary ancestors had sever- al pet phrases and formalities. Almost invariably they expressed their joy or approbation by three huzzas, sometimes by three loud huzzas. They also manifested their approval by loud aeclama- tions, or by ,,eneral applause, or with the nt- most demonstrations of joy. The Declaration was almost always listened to by a great concourse of people, and the proceedings attending its promul- gation were quite invariably conducted with the greatest decorum, or were characterized by the greatest decency and good order. Great attention was paid to the number thirteen, as symbolical of the thirteen united States. AT PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE. HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 175 7. The friends of the United States in all quarters of the globe. The bells of the town were rung on the occasion, and undissembled festivity cheered and brightened every face. Ga the same evening the Kings Arms, and every sign with any resemblance of it, whether Lion or Crown, Pestle and Mortar and Crown, Heart and Crown, etc., together with every sign that belonged to a Tory, was taken down and made a general conflagration of in King Street. Although the old-time reporter is dis- creetly silent on the subject, let us hope that this raid by the patriotic people of the town of Boston upon Tory and other signs was conducted with the greatest decorum and was marked by the ut- most decency and good order. There was another purely formal reli- gio-political proclamation of the Declara- tion in Boston several weeks later, which was briefly announced in one of the ga- zettes of the day, thus: Boston, August 15, 1776.Last Lords Day [August 11th] the Declaration of Indepen- dence was published in the several Churches in this town, agreeable to an order of the hon- ourable Council of this State. AT WATERTOWN, MASSACHUSETTS. A little unpleasantness at Boston in the form of an epidemic of small-pox, pre- vented the people of Watertown from par- ticipating with their neighbors, the peo- ple of Boston, in their celebration and its concluding amenities on the 18th of July. They therefore had a celebration of their own, the proceedings at which are de- scribed in an account of it that was pub- lished a few days later, as follows: Watertown, Monday, July 22, 1776-Last Thnrsday a number of the members Of Council (who were prevented attending the ceremony of proclaiming the Declaration of Indepen- dence at Boston on account of the small-pox there), together with those of the honourable House of Representatives who were in town, and a nuniber of other gentlemen, assembled at the Council Chamber in this town, where the said Declaration was also proclaimed by the Secretary from one of the windows; after which the gentlemen partook of a decent col- lation, prepared on the occasion, and drank a number of constitutional toasts, and then re- tired... .The Kings Arms in this town were on Saturday last defaced. AT PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE. The Declaration reached Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in time for the General Court of the State, then in session there, to issue an order that it be read with suit- able ceremonies, as it happened, on the same day when it was pvoclaimed in Bos- ton and Watertown. The following is a description of the proceedings: Portsmouth, New Hampshire, July 20, 1776. AT NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND. 176 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The day before yesterday, pursuant to an order from the Great and General Court of this State, the Independent Company under Col- onel Sherburne, aud the Light Infantry Coin- pany under Colonel Langdon, were drawn up on the parade, in their uniforms, when the Dec- laration of Judependeuce from the Grand Coii- tinental Congress was read in the presence of a numerous and respectable audience. The pleasing countenances of the many patriots present spoke a hearty concurrence in the in- teresting measure, which was confirmed with three huzzas, and all was conducted in peace and good order. AT NEWPORT RHODE ISLAND. Little Rhode Island uttered no uncer- tain sound when the Declaration found its way thither. The General Assembly of the colony was in session at the time, and on Saturday, July 20th, the following resounding preamble and resolution were adopted by it: State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, In General Assembly, July Session, 17Th. Whereas, the General Congress of the Unit- e(l States of America, by their Resolution of the 4th instant, after enumerating many of the va- rious acts by which George the third, King of Great Britain, hath demonstrated his intention to establish an absolute tyranny over the said States, have declared that a Prince whose character is thus marked hy every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people; and have further declared that the said States are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown; and that all political connexion be- tween them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved; which said Resolution bath been approved and solemnly published by order, ai~d in presence of this General Assembly: It is therefore Voted and Resolved, That if any person within this State shall, under pretence of preaching and praying, or in any other way and manner, acknowledge and de- clare the said King to be our rightful Lord and Sovereign, or shall pray for the success of his arms, or that he may vanquish and over- come all his enemies, he shall be deemed guilty of a high misdemeanonr, and shall therefor be presented by the Grand Jury of the County where the offence shall be committed, to the Superior Court of the same County; and upon conviction thereof shall forfeit and pay, as a fine, to and for the use of this State, the sum of 100 lawfnl money, and pay all costs of prosecution, and shall stand committed to Jail until the same be satisfied. And that a copy of this Act he inserted in the Newport and Providence newspapers. A true Copy, Witness, HxNRY WARD, Secretary. There is extant a further contempora- neous report of the proceedings at New- port on the receipt of the Declaration, which is more full of popular and dra- matic incident than the one just cited, and of which the following is a transcript: Newport, July 22, 1776.Last Saturday [July 2Othl, the honourable the General As- sembly of this Stnte being then sitting at the State House in this Town, at twelve oclock, the Brigade stationed here nuder the conmumand of the Colonels William Richmond and Chris- to~her Lippett, Esquires, marched from Head Quarters, and drew up in two columns on each side of the parade, before the State House door; his Honour the Governour and Members of Assembly then marched through and re- ceived the compliments of the Brigade; after which the Secretary read, at the head of the Brigade, a Resolve of the Assembly concurring with the Congress in the Declaration of In- dependence; the Declaration itself was then read; next thirteen cannon were discharged at Fort Liberty; the Brigade then drew up and fired in thirteen divisions from east to west, agreeable to the number and situation of the United States. The Declaration was received with joy and applause by all ranks. The whole was conducted with great solemnity and decorum. IN CONNEcTICUT. In view of the earnestness and enthusi- asm which marked the reception and pro- mulgation of the Declaration in the other New England States, and in view also of the early, active, and advanced patriotism of the people of Connecticut, it is not a little remarkable that that colony is the only one of tile Old Thirteen in which the publication of the immortal document to the people was not made general, as it was elsewhere, and in which its reception was unattended by any public celebra- tions and rejoiciugs. Although numer- ous inquiries have been made of the most diligent and accomplished local historians in that State, and though special investi- gations have been made in Hartford, New Haven, New London, and other towns in Connecticut, and in the antiquarian and historical collections of Massachusetts and New York, the writer has been unable thus far to discover any contemporaneous account, either manuscript or printed, of any formal publication of the Declara- tion to the people or the towns by the provisional or constituted authorities of the colony, or of any single instance of the celebration of its reception there by spontaneous solemnities and ceremonies HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 177 such as attended its reception and publica- tion in all the other colonies. The sum of all that he has been able to find, bear- ing on the subject, is as follows: In the proceedings of the session of the Governour and Council of Safety of Connecticut for July 11, 1776, is the fol- lowing minute: The Declaration of Independence by Con- gress was received in a letter to Governour Trumbull from Col. Trumbull. In the proceedings of the same provi- sional body, at the session of July 12, 1776, is the following further minute: Letters were received by Express, from Congress, dated July 6, 1776, containing infor- mation of the passing of the Declaration of Independence, and a copy of it, and required the same to be duly published. In the Connecticut Gazette, of July 12, 1776, published at New London, the Dec- laration is printed in full, but without a word of reference or comment. In the proceedings of the Governour and Council of Safety for the session of July 18, 1776, is the following minute: The subject of publishing the Declaration of Independence was again takea up by the Governour and Council, and referred to the General Assembly, at their next session. At the session of the General Assembly of Connecticut, held in October, 1776, the Assembly passed the following Bill de- claring this Colony an Independent State, etc., to wit: Whereas, George the Third, King of Great Britain, bath unjustly levied war against this and the other United States of America, de- clared them out of his protection, and abdi- cated the government of this Statewhereby the good people of this State are absolved from their allegiance and subjection to the Crown of Great Britain; And Whereas the representatives of said United States, in Gen- eral Congress assembled, have published and declared that these Colonies are and of right ought to be free and indepeudeut States, and that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown; Resolved b~ this Assembly, That they ap- prove of the Declaration of Independence, published by said Congress, and that this col- ony is and of right ought to be a free and in- dependent State, and the inhabitants thereof are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and all political connection between them and the King of Great Britain is and ought to be dissolved. From all this it clearly appears that the Declaration was received by the Governor of Connecticut on July 11, 1776, and by the Council of Safety on the day follow- ing; that it was informally published in the Connecticut Gazette on July 12th; that the subject of its general and official publication was considered by the Gov- ernor and Council and perhaps debated on July 12th, and again on July 18th; that on this last date it was referred to the next session of the General Assembly; and that the General Assembly at its next I (/. I -z / session, held in October, 1776, declared the colony an independent State, and ap- proved the Declaration of Independence. The delay in officially publishing and proclaiming the Declaration in Connecti- cut, and the consequent lack of any con- temporaneous evidences of its receiving a spontaneous and joyous popular welcome, seem to be susceptible of the following explanation: On the 6th of July, 1776, copies of the instrument were forwarded by the President of the Continental Con- gress to each of the States which had adopted a permanent govern ment, and to the conventions or provincial con- gresses, or to the councils or com- mittees of safety, of those States which had not yet formed regular governments, with the request to have the document proclaimed in such way and manner as they thought best, so that the people may be universally informed of it. When the copy for Connecticut reached that State, it was received by the Gov- ernor and Council of Safety, which was a purely provisional body acting during the recess of the regular and permanent IN CONNECTICUT. 178 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. governing body of the Statethe General Assembly. If no regular government had yet been organized in Connecticut, the Governor and Council of Safety would doubtless have approved and published the Declaration, as was done by similar provisional bodies in the other colonies where regular governments had not yet been formed. They probably felt, how- ever, that they were precluded from so doing, both by the limitations of the in- structions contained in President Han- cocks circular letter, and by their own delicate sense of official propriety, and of the deference due by them to the General Assembly in so grave a matter. There- fore the Governor and Council were con- tent to furnish a copy informally to the Connecticut Gazette for instant publica- tion. This having been done, and having debated the matter on July 12th and 18th, they concluded to refer the Declara- tion to the General Assembly, to be held three months later, for its more formal and authoritative action. AT WILLIAMSBURG, vIRGINIA. In Virginia the Council of the colony was in session when the letter of Presi- dent Hancock was received announcing and enclosing a copy of the Declaration; and John Page, the President of the Council, officially replied to it as follows: In Council, Williamsbi~rgh, July 20, 1776. Sir: We had the honour to receive your let- ter of the 8th instant, enclosing the Declara- tion of Independence. We shall take care to have the Declaration immediately published, so that the people may be universally inform- ed of it, who, we have the pleasnre to inform you, have been impatiently expecting it, and will receive it with joy. It is with pleasure, Sir, we observe that you say, in consequence of the Declaration, you are fully convinced that our affairs may take a more favourable turn; and we firmly rely on the protection and continuance of the powerful interposition of that Being whose power no creature is able to resist. On the same day, while the above ad- mirable letter was yet freshly written, the Council met and took action as follows: Ordered, That the Printers publish in their respective Gazettes the Declaration of Inde- pendence made by the hononrable Continental Congress, and that the Sheriff of each County in this Commonwealth proclaim the same at the door of his Court House, the first Court day after he shall have received the same. On the 25th of July this order was car- ried into effect at Williamsburg, as ap- pears by the following item in the gazettes of July the 26th: Williamsbnrgh, Jnly 26, 1776.Yesterday after~ioon, agreeable to an order of the honour- able Privy Council, the Declaration of Inde- pendence was solemnly proclaimed at the Cap- itol, the Court House, and the Palace, amidst the acclainations of the people, accompanied by firing of cannon and musketry, the several regimel)ts of Continental troops having been paraded on that solemnity. AT HUNTINGTON, LONG ISLAND. The feelings of the patriotic portion of the people of Long Island had just been excited to a high pitch by the approach of the formidable British fleet toward New York, the occupation of a part of Long Island by the British troops, and the transfer of the seat of active hostili- ties in the Northern States to Long Island and other parts adjacent to the city and harbor of New York. There were many loyalists or refugees on Long Island, es- pecially in the counties near New York city, but their adherence to the British served only to intensify the ardor of the Whigs. An extract from a letter, dated AT wILLIAMSBURG, VIRGINIA. HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 179 Huntington, Long Island, July 23, 1776, gives a lively picture of this ardor, and of the manner in which the reception of the Declaration was celebrated by the patriots of that place. Says the writer: Yesterday the freedom and independency of the Thirteen United Colonies was, with beat of drums, proclaimed at the several places of parade by reading the Declaration of the Gen- cml Congress, together with the Resolutions of our Provincial Convention thereupon; which were approved and applauded by the animated shouts of the people, who were pre- sent from the distant quarters of the district. After which, the Flag which used to wave on the Liberty Pole, having Liberty on one side and George III. on the other, underwent a reformi. e., the Union was cut off and the letters George III. were discarded, being pub- lickly ripped off; and then an effigy of the person represented by those letters, being has- tily fabricated out of base materials, with its face black like Dunmores Virginia regiment, its head adorned with a wooden crown stuck full of feathers like Carletons and Johnsons savages, and its body wrapped in tbe Union, instead of a blanket or robe of state, and lined with gunpowder, ~vhich the original seems to be fond ofthe whole, together with the let- ters above mentioned, were hung on a gallows, exploded, and hnrnt to ashes. In the evening the Committee of this town, with a large num- ber of the principal inhabitants, sat down around the genial board and drank thirteen patriotick toasts, among which were, The Yree and Independent States of America; The General Congress; The Conventions~of the Thirteen States; Our principal Military ~Dommanders; and Success and Enlargement to the American Navy. Nor was the memory of our late brave heroes, who have gloriously lost their lives in the cause of liberty and their country, forgotten. AT SOUTHAMPTON, LONG ISLAND. But nowhere was a more impressive reception given to the Declaration than at Southampton, Long Island, where, on the day when the demonstration above described was made in their sister town of Huntington, its old men of threescore and ten were moved by the noble ardor of liberty to volunteer for the common defence. This interesting incident is thus preserved in an acconnt written by a contemporaneons chronicler: Southampton, Suffolk County, New York, July 23, 1776.Last Monday afternoon [July 22d] was exhibited to view in this town a very agreeable prospect. The old gentlemen, grandfathers, to the age of seventy years and upwards, met, a~,rceably to appointment, and formed themselves into an Independent Com- pany. Each man was well equipped with a good musket, powder, ball, cartridges, etc., and unanimously made choice of Elias Pelletran, Esq., for their leader (with other suitable offi- cers), who made a very animating speech to them on the necessity of holding themselves in readiness to go into the field in time of in- vasion. They cheerfully agreed to it, and de- termined at the risk of their lives to defend the Free and Independent States of America. May such a shining example stimulate every father on Long Island in particular, and Amer- ica in general, to follow their aged brethren here ! IN NORTH CAROLINA. The Declaration was receive.d at Hali- fax, North Carolina, on July 22d, by the Provincial Council of Safety, then in session at that place. On the same day it was read by Cornelius Harnett, an Englishman by birth, but an early and uncompromising patriot,who was a mern- ber of the Provincial Congress from Wil- mington, North Carolina, and the Presi- dent of the Provincial Council of Safety, to a great concourse of citizens and sol- diers. When he had concluded the read- ing of the soul-stirring document the sol- diers crowded around him, took him upon their shoulders, and bore him in triumph through the town. Although comprehensive and energet- ic measures were promptly taken by the Provincial Council for proclaiming the Declaration throughout the province, and although it undoubtedly was so proclaim- ed very generally, the writer of this~ me- moir has not been able to find any extant detailed report of the proceedings that took place thereupon in any of the towns or counties of North Carolina. This is largely due to the fact that there were few or no newspapers in North Carolina to publish contemporaneous reports of the action of the people of the colony. The minutes of the Council of Safety, however, are very full of interest, and clearly evince the cordial and emphatic welcome which the Declaration met with from the representatives of the people. They are also of special interest as evin- cing the grave and elevated sentiments which the Declaration inspired, and the wise and decisive action which it prompt- ed. The following extracts from these minutes are highly suggestive: Halifax, July 25, 1776. The Continental Congress having, on the 4th day of July last, declared the Thirteen United Colonies free 180 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and independeut States: Resolved, That the Committees of the respective Tow us asid Coun- ties in this Colony, on receiving the said Dec- laration, do cause the same to be proclaimed in the most publick manner, in order that the ~ood people of this Colony may be fully in- formed thereof. Halifax, Thursday, July 25, 1776. Where- as, the Representatives of the United States of America, in Congress assembled, at Phih~del- })hia, on the 4th day of July last, declared the Thirteen United Colonies free and independent States, and that the good people thereof were absolved from all allegiauce to the British Crowu; and that the said Declaration renders the Test as directed to he subscribed by the late [Proviucial] Congress at Halifax improper aud nuga- tory: Resolved, That a Test as follows be sub- stituted in lieu there- of, and subscribed by the Members of this Board: We, the subscrib- ers, do solemnly pro- fess, testify, and de- clare that we do ab- solutely believe that neither the Parlia- ment of Great Brit- ain, nor any member or constitneut branch thereof bath a right to impose taxes upon these Colonies, to reg- ulate the internal po- lice thereof; and that all attempts, by fraud or force, to establish and exercise such claims and powers are violators of the peace and security of the people, and ought to be resisted to the ut- most; and that the people of this Prov- ince, singly and col- lectively, are bound by the Acts and Resolu- tions of the Continental and Provincial Con- gresses, because in hoth they are freely repre- sented by persons chosen by themselves; and we do solemnly and sincerely promise and engage, under the sanction of virtue, honour, and the sacred love of liberty and our coun- try, to maintain and support all and every the Acts, Resolutions, and Regulations of the said Continental and Provincial Congresses, to the utmost of our powers and abilities. In testi- mony whereof we have set our hands, at Hali- fax, this 24th day of July, 1776. Halifax, July 27, 1776.The Continental Congress having on the fourth of this instant, July, declared the Thirteen United Colonies of America free and independent States: Resolved, That Thursday, the first day of August next, he set apart for proclaiming the said Declara- tion, at the Court House in the Town of Hali- fax. The Freeholders and Inhabitants of the County of Halifax are requested to give their attendance at the time and place aforesaid. One of the counties of North Carolina having no Committee, and consequent- ly no proclamation of the Declaration haying been made in it, as ordered by the Council of Safety July 22d, at the session of the Council held on the 6th of Au- gust, 1776, the fol- lowing remedial ac- tion was taken by the Council: Tuesday, August 6th, 1776.The Conti nental Congress, on the 4th day of July last, declared the Thirteen United Cob onies of America~ free and independent States; and as it ap- pears there is no Committee in the County of Ctmber- land: Resolved, That Colonel Ebenezer Folesome and Col- onel .David Smith, or either of them, on re- ceiving the said Dee- laration, call a gener- al meeting of the in- habitants of the said County, and that they, or either of them, cause the same to he read and pro- claimed in the most publick manner, in order that the good people of this State maybe fully informed thereof. Finally, on the 9th of August, the North Carolina Council of Safety made a prac- tical application of the principles of the~ Declaration and of the fitness of the peo- ple for self-government in the following thou~htful and sterling appeal to the in- habitants of the colony, having reference to the exercise of one of their most un- portant duties as citizens of a republic: Friday, August 9, 1776.The Representa- tives of the United States of America, in Gen- eral Congress assembled, at Philadelphia, the 4th day of July, 1776, having determined that. AT HALIFAX, NORTH CAROLINA. HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 181 the Thirteen United Colonies are free and in- dependent States, and in consequence thereof having published a Declaration of Indepen- dence: Resolved, That it be recommended to the good people of this now indepeudent State of North Caroliun to pay the greatest attention to the Election, to be held on the 15th day of October next, of Delegates to represent them in the [Provincial] Congress, and to have par- ticularly in view this important consideration: that it will be the bnsiness of the Delegates then chosen not only to make laws for the good government of, but also to form a Con- stitution for, this State ; that this last, as it is the corner-stone of all law, so it ought to be fixed and permanent; and that according as it is well or ill ordered, it must tend in the first (legree to promote the happiness or misery of the State. AT EAST GREENWICH AND PROVIDENCE RHODE ISLAND. In none of the Old Thirteen was the proclamation of the Declaration cele- brated with greater effusiveness than in Rhode Island. It has been already seen with what spirit it was celebrated at New- port, on July the 20th. Although the towns of East Greenwich and Providence moved less pi~ompt1y than Newportthe first-named not till the 23d and the other on the 25th of Julythey yet exhibited an accumulated vivacity to compensate for the delay. The following transcripts of their proceedings as published at the time will be read with interest as speci- mens of our original Fourth of July literature: East Greenwich, Rhode Island, July 26, 1776.On Tuesday last [July 23d] the Kent- ish Guards, commanded by Colonel Richard Fry, appeared in their uniforms. kbont twelve oclock they drew up on the Parade before the State House, where the Declaration of the Gen- eral Congress declaring these Colonies Free and Independent States was read; like~vise a Re- solve of the General Assembly concurring with the same, which was announced by the dis- charge of thirteen cannon at Fort Daniel. Next, the Guards tired thirteen volleys. Thh~ was followed by three huzzas from a numer- ens body of inhabitants. They then repaired to Arnolds Hall, where, after partaking of a very decent collation, the following patriotick toasts were drunk: 1. The Thirteen United States of America. 2. The General Congress of the American States. 3. General Washington. 4. The American Army. 5. Augmentation of the American Navy. 6. In memory of those immortal heroes who have fallen in the American Cause. 7. May a happy rule of government be es- tablished in the State of Rhode Island. 8. American Maiinfactures. 9. Free trade with all the world. 10. May true patriotism warm the breast of every American. 11. May the Independency of the American States be firmly established, and a speedy peace take place. 12. May Liberty expand her sacred wings, and in glorious effort diffuse her influence oer and oer the globe. AT PROVIDENCE. Providence, Saturday, July 27, 1776. Thursday last, 25th .Jnly, at eleven oclock in the forenoon, his Honour the Governour, attend- ed by such Members of the Upper and Lower Houses of Assembly as were in town, and a number of the inhabitants, ~vent in procession to the State House, escorted by the Cadet and Light Infantry Companies, where, at twelve oclock, was read the Act of Assembly concur- ring with the most honourable General Con- gress in their Declaration of Independence. The Declaration was also read; at the conclu- sion of which, thirteen volleys were fired by the Cadets and Light Infantry; the Artillery Company next fired thirteen cannon, and like number of new cannon (cast at the Hope Furnace) were discharged at the Great Bridge the ships Alfred and Columbus likewise fired thirteen guns each in honour of the day. At two oclock his Honour the Governour, attend- ed and escorted as above, proceeded to Hack- ers Hall, where an elegant entertainment wa provided for the occasion. After dinner the following toasts were drunk, viz.: 1. The Thirteen Free and Independent States of America. 2. The Most Honourable the General Con- gress. 3. The Army and Navy of the United States. 4. The State of Rhode Island and Provi- dence Plantations. 5. The Commerce of the United States. 6. Liberty to those who have the Spirit to assert it. 7. The friends of the United States in ev- ery part of the Earth. S. General Washington. 9. The Officers of the American Army and Navy. 10. May the Crowns of Tyrants be Crowns of Thorns. 11. The memory of the brave Officers and Men who have fallen in defence of American Liberty. 12. May tIme Constitution of each separate State have for its object the preservation of the civil and religious rights of Mankind. 13. May the Union of the States be estab- lished in justice and mutual confidence, and be as permanent as time pillars of Nature. The Artillery Company and a nnmher of 182 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. other gentlemen dined the same day at Lind- seys Tavern, where the following toasts were drunk: I. The Free and Independent States of America. 2. The General Congress of the American States. 3. The Honourable John Hancock, Esq. 4. His Excellency General Washington. 5. His Excellency General Lee. 6. The brave Carolineans. 7. Snccess to General Gates and the North- ern Army. S. May the subtilty of the American Stand- ard destroy the ferocity of the British Lion. 9. The State of Rhode Island and Provi- dence Plantations. 10. The Hononrable Governonr Cooke. 11. May the Independent States of America forever be an Asylnm for Liberty. 12. The American Army and Navy. 13. The Providence Independent Compa- nies. The whole was conducted with great order and decency, and the Declaration was received with every mark of applause. Towards even- ing the King of Great Britains Coat of Arms was taken from a late publick Office, as was also the sign from the Crown Coffee House, and burnt. The significance of the allusion, in the eighth toast of the Artillery Company, to the subtilty of the American Standard, will be made more clear by the following curious description of the American Stand- ard of 1776, which is transcribed from The Seots Magazine for July, 1776: The American Standard is thus described: The colours of the American fleet have a snake with thirteen rattles, the fonrteenth budding, depicted in the attitude of going to strike, with this motto, DONT TREAD ON ME. It is a rule in heraldry that the worthy properties of the animal in the crest home shall he consider- ed, and the base ones cannot he intended. The ancients acconnted a snake the emblem of wis- dom, and, in certain attitudes, of endless dura- tion. The rattle-snake is properly a represent- ative of America, as this animal is found in no other part of the world. The eye of this crea- ture excels in brightness most of any other an- imals. She has no eye-lids, and is therefore an emblem of vigilance. She never hegins an attack, nor ever surrenders; she is therefore an emblem of magnanimity and true courage. When injured, or in danger of being injured, she never wounds till she has given notice to her enemies of their danger. No other of her kind shows such generosity. When undis- turbed, and in peace, she does not appear to be furnished with weapons of any kind. They are latent in the roof of her mouth; and even when extended for her defence, appear to those who are not acquainted with her to be weak and contemptible; yet her wounds, however small, are decisive and fatal. She is solitary, and as- sociates with her kind only when it is neces- sary for their preservation. Her poison is at once the necessary means of digesting her food, and certain destruction to her enemies. The power of fascination attributed to her, by a generous construction resembles America. Those who look steadily at her are delighted, and involuntarily advance towards her, and having once approached, never leave her. She is frequently found with thirteen rattles, and they increase yearly. She is beautiful in youth, and her beauty increases with her n~e. Her tongue is blue, and forked as the lightning. The device of a rattlesnake was wrought upon many of the army and navy flags in the Revolution. In his Field-book of the Revolution (vol. ii., p. 505, note), Mr. Lossing describes the flag of the Cul- peper (Virginia) Minute-men, in the regi- ment of which Patrick Henry was colonel. It bore the significant device of a coiled rattlesnake; and on it were also inscribed, on the upper half, the great orators mem- orable words, Liberty or Death, and at the bottom the legend, Dont Tread on Me ! Mr. Lossing also states (Field-book of the Revolution,vol. ii., p. 844, note) that the Union Flag, adopted by the army on January 1, 1776, had a representation of a rattlesnake, with the words, Dont Tread on Me! (Illustration in Lossing, vol. ii., p. 844). AT TICONDEROGA, NEW YORK. At Ticonderoga, New York, the Dec- laration was proclaimed to the portion of the army stationed there. Says a con- temporaneous writer: On Sunday, July 28, 1776, immediately after divine worship, the Declaration of Inde- pendence was read by Colonel St. Clair; and having said, God save the free and indepen- dent States of America, the Army manifested their joy with three cheers. It was remarka- bly pleasant, adds the narrator, to see the spirits of the soldiers so raised after all their calamities; the lan~uage of every mans coun- tenance was, Now ~ve are a people; we have a name among the States of this world. AT BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. The Declaration was proclaimed at Baltimore, Maryland, on Monday, July 29th, and on the following day the pro- ceedings were published in the gazettes of the period, as follows: Baltimore, July 30, 1776.Yesterday, by order of the Committee of this Town, the Dec- laration of Independency of the United States HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 183 of America was read at the Court House to a numerous and respectable body of Mi- litia, and the Company of Artillery, and other prin- cipal inhabitants of this Town and County, which was received with general applause and heartfelt sat- isfaction. At night the Town was illuminated, and .~t the same time the effigy of our late Kin~ was cart- ed through the Town and eomuiitted to the flames, amidst the acelamations of many hundredsthe just reward of a tyrant. AT AMHERST, NEW HAMPSHIRE. At Amherst, New Hampshire, the cere- monies attending the reading of the Declara- tion were very grave and impressive, as will appear from the following brief re- port of them as published in the Boston gazettes: State of New Hampshire, County of Hills- borough: Amherst, August 1, 1776.Pursuant to orders from the Committee of Safety for said State to the Sheriff of said County, re- quiring him to proclaim Independency in Am- herst, the shire-town of said Connty, the Sher- iff, attended by the Militia, a great part of the Magistrates of the County, and several hundreds of other spectators, met at the Meet- ing-House in said Town, and, after attending prayers, were formed into a circle on the Pa- rade, the Sheriff in the centre, on horseback, with a drawn sword in his hand. The Decla- ration was read from an eminence on the Pa- rade; after that was done three cheers were given, colours flying and drums beating. The Militia fired in thirteen divisions, attended with universal acciamations. The whole was performed with the greatest decorum. AT RICHMOND, VIRGINIA. The observances on reading the Decla- ration at Richmond, Virginia, were spirit- ed and enthusiastic, and are tersely de- scribed in the following report published in the Williamsburg Gazette of August 10, 1776: On Monday last, the 5th instant, being Court-day, the Declaration of Independence was publickly proclaimed in the town of Rich- mond, before a large concourse of respectable freeholders of Heurico County, and upwards of two hundred of the Militia, who assembled on that grand occasion. It was received with universal shouts ofjoy, and re-echoed by three volleys of small-arms. The same evening the town was illuminated, and the members of the Committee held a Club, when many patriotick toasts were drunk. Although there were near one thousand people present, the whole was conducted with the utmost decorum; and the satisfaction visible in every countenance stiffi- ciently evinced their determination to support it with their lives and fortunes. AT CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. The Legislature of South Carolina were in session when the Declaration reached there; and on its official transmission by President John Rutledge, severally, to the Legislative Council and the General Assembly, it was received by each with transports of joy. The Council gave voice to their feelings as follows: The Declaration of the Continental Con- gress that the United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connex- ion between them and Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved; calls forth all our attention. It is an event which necessity had rendered not only justifiable but absolute- ly unavoidable. It is a decree now worthy of America. We thankfully receive the notifica- tion of and rejoice at it; and we are deter- mined at every hazard to endeavour to main- tain it, that so, after w& have departed, our children and their latest posterity may have cause to bless our memory. The General Assembly responded in AT BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. 154 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the following less exalted but still very emphatic terms: It is with the most unspeakable pleasure we embrace this opportunity of expressing our joy and satisfaction in the Declaration of the Continental Congress, declaring the United Colonies free and independent States, absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and totally dissolving all political union between them and Great Britainan event unsought for, and now produced by nnavoidable neces- sity, and which every friend to justice and Lu- inanity must not only hold justifiable as the natural effect of unmerited persecutiou, but equally rejoicc in as the only effectual security against injuries and oppressions, and the most promising source of future liberty and safety. Governor Moultrie says, in his Memoirs~ that the Declaration of Independence arrived in Charleston the latter end of July. He also states, without designa- ting the time, that it was read at the head of the troops iii the field by Major Bernard Elliott; after which an oration was delivered by the Rev. Mr. Pearcv. Dr. Lossing has been able to gather a more particular account of the incident. In his Field-book of the Rerolution (vol. ii., p. 758) he describes the ceremonies as follows: At Charleston, South Carolina, on Monday, August 5, 1776, the Declaration was proclaimed in the presence of the people of the town, young and old, of both sexes,who assembled round Lib- ertyTree* (which stood within the Squnre now bounded by Charlotte, Washington, Boundary and Alexander streets, afterwards cut down in 1780 by order of Sir Henry Clinton and a fire lighted over the stump by piling its branches around it), with all the military of the city and vicinity, drums beating and flags flying. The ceremonies were opened with prayer. The Dec- laration was then read by Mujor Bernard El- liott, and the services closed with an eloquent address by the Rev. William Percy, of the Prot- estant Episcopal Church. It is related that as it was a hot day, Mr. Percys black servant held an umbrella over his head, and fanned hini during the delivery of the address. Alluding to this, a British wag perpetrated the follow- ing couplet: Good Mr. Parson, it is not quite civil To be preaching rebellion, thus fanned by the devil. * The Charleston Liberty Tree was a wide-spread- ing live-oak, under which the patriots used to as- semble to discuss the political questions of the day from as e ny a period as l765. After its destruc- tion by oder of Sir Henry Clinton, many cane heads were made from its stump, and later a part of it was sawed into thin boards and made into a ballot- box. AT BRIDGETON, NEW JERSEY. The celebration of the proclamation of the Declaration at Bridgeton, New Jersey, besides having been a spirited one, wa specially interesting as furnishing one or the earliest examples of the Fourth of July oratory which periodically, for many years thereafter, warmed the hearts of our fellow-countrymen. The following- is a copy of the quasi-official contempora- neous report of the proceedings there: Cumberland County (N. J.) Committee. On Wednesday, the 7th instant [August 7, 1776], the Committee of Inspection for the County of Cumberland, in the State of New Jersey, the officers of the Militia, and a great number of other inhabitants having met at Bridgetown, went in procession to the Court House, where the Declaration of Independen- cy, the Constitution of New Jersey, and the. Treason Ordinance were publickly read and unanimously approved of. They were follow- ed with a spirited address by Dr. Elmer,~ Chairman of the Committee, after which the Peace Officers staves, on which were depicted the Kings Coat of Arms, with other ensigns of royalty, were burnt in the street. The whole was conducted with the greatest decency and regularity. The following, being the substance of the before-mentioned Address, is published at the particular request of the Committee and all who were present Gentlemen of the Committee, Officers of the Militia, and Gentlemen spect tori-: From what has now been read, you see the long-wished-for but much dreaded period has arrived, in which the connexion between Great Britain and Anmerica is totally dissolved, and these Colonies declared Free and Independent States. As this is an event of the greatest impor- tance, it must afford satisfaction to every in- telligent person to reflect, that it was brought~ about by unavoidable necessity on our part, and has been conducted with a prudence and moderation becoming the wisest and best of men. With the Independence of the American States a new era in politicks has commenced. Every consideration respecting the propriety or impropriety of a separation from Britain is now entirely out of tile question, and we have no more to do with the King and people of England than we have with the King and l)eople of France or Spain. No people under * Dr. Theophilus Elmer was a practising physi- cian, and omme of the most active and influential pa- triots in West Jersey. He was also one of the most useful amid advanced members of the Provin- cial Congress of New Jersey, in which he was one of the Committee that prepared the draft of the State Constitution adopted July 2, 1776. HOW THE DECLARATION WAS RECEIVED. 185 Heaven were ever favoured with a fairer op- portunity of laying a sure foundation for fu- ture grandeur and happiness than we. The plan of Government established in most States ~tnd Kingdoms of the world has been the effect of chance or necessity; onrs, of sober reason and cool deliberation. Our future happiness or misery, therefore, as a people, will depend entirely npon ourselves. If, actuated by prin- ciples of virtue and genuine patriotism, we make the welfare of our conutry the sole aim of all our action; if we intrust none but per- sons of abilities and integrity with the man- gement of our publick affairs; if we carefully guard against corruption and undue influence in the several departments of Government; if we are steady and zealous in putting the laws in strict executionthe spirit and principles of our new Constitution, which we have just now heard read, may be preserved for a long time. But, if faction and party spirit, the de- struction of popular governments, take place, anarchy and confusion will soon ensue, and we shall either fall an easy prey to a foreign ene- my, or some factions and aspiring demagogue, possessed of popular talents and shining qual- itiesa Julius Cmsar or an Oliver Cromwell will spring up among ourselves, who, taking advantage of our political animosities, will lay violent hands on the Government, and sacrifice the liberties of his Country to his ambitious and domineering humour. God grant that neither of these may ever be the fate of this or ny of the United States. To prevent which, while we are striving to defend ourselves ~against the unjust encroachments of a foreign aud unnatural enemy, let us not neglect to keep strict and jealous eye on our own internal po- lice and Constitution. Let the fate of Greece, Rome, Carthage, and Great Britain warn us of our danger; and the loss of liberty in all those States, for want of timely gnardin~ against the introduction of tyranny and usurpation, be a standing admonition to us to avoid the rock on which they have all been shipwrecked. Let us as honest citizens and sincere lovers of our country exert ourselves in the defence of our State, and in support of our new Consti- tution: but ~vhile we strive to vindicate the glorious cause of Liberty on the one hand, let us, on the other hand, carefully guard against running into the contrary extreme of disorder and licentiousness. In our present situation, engaged in a bloody and dangerous war with the power of Great Britain for the defence of our lives, our liberties, our property, and everything that is dear and valuable, every member of this State who enjoys the benefits of its civil Govern- ment is absolutely bound, by the immutable law of self-preservation, the laws of God and of society, to assist in protecting and defend- ing* it. This is so plain and self-evident a proposition that I am persuaded every person here present makes it the rule of his conduct on all occasions; and consequently, in a time of such imminent danger, will be extremely careful, at our ensuing election, not to intrust any one with the manam~ement of our publick affairs who has not, by his vigilance and ac- tivity in the cause of liberty, proved himself to be a true friend to his country. The suc- cess, gentlemen, of our present glorious strug- gle wholly depends upon this single circum- stance. For though the situation and extent of the United States of America, and our numn- berless internal resources, are sufficient to en- able us to bid defiance to all Europe, yet should we be so careless about our own safety as to intrust the affairs of our State, while the bayo- net is pointed at our throats, to persons whose conduct discovers theni to be enemies to their country, or whose religions principles will not suffer them to lift a hand for our defence, our ruin will inevitably follow. * This and the succeeding paragraph are directed against the Quakers and others of West Jersey, who refused, from conscientious scruples, to bear arms for the common defence and to serve in the militia and otherwise. AT cHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. 156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. As it is impossible for any one possessed of the spirit of a man, who is a friend to the United States, and whose conscience does not furnish bun with an excuse, to stand by an idle spectator while his country is struggling and bleeding in her own necessary defence, all such inactive persons onght therefore to be shunned as enemies or despised as cowards. And as I have reason to believe that many who plead conscience as an excuse are sincere in their pretensions, and as every man onght to be free from compulsion, this single consid- eration should restrain ns from forcing such into any of the departments of Government. For to put snch persons, at this time, in places of publick trust, is actually to deprive them of liberty of conscience; for we thereby com- pel them either to betray the trust reposed in them, or to act contrary to the dictates of their own consciences; a dilemma in which,act as they will, their conduct must be criminal. Be- sides, if we consulted only our own safety, it is plain that to intrust the affairs of our Gov- ernment, at thisjuncture, to such people, is as dangerous as to intrust the management of a ship in a violent storm to an infant or an idiot. As a friend to my country and a lover of lib- erty, I thought it my duty to address you on this occasion; and having now as a faithful member of society discharged my duty, I shall leave you to the exercise of your own judge- ment, and conclude with a request that yon would conduct yourselves this day in such a manner as to convince the publick that your abhorrence of the cruel and bloody Nero of Great Britain, and his despicable minions of tyranny and oppression, arises, not from the mere impulse of blind passion and prejudice, but from sober reason and reflection; and while we rejoice in being formally eman- cipated from our haughty and imperious task-masters, let us renme mber that the final termination of this grand event is not like- ly to be brought about without shedding the blood of many of our dear friends and countrymen. AT SAVANNAH GEORGIA. This monograph, in which I have attempted to shadow forth in outline the manner and spirit in which the tidings of the Declaration of our Na- tional Independence were received by the Old Thirteen, and of the mode of its proclamation to and celebration by the people therein, is brought to a fit- ting conclusion by the reproduction of the proceedings at Savannah, Georgia, that city and State having been the latest of any in chronological se- quence to receive and proclaim it. It will be noticed that the concluding paragraph of this contemporaneous report is a parody of the committal service in the Church of Englands Service for the Burial of the Dead. Savannah (in Georgia), August 10, 1776. A Declaration being received from the Hon- ourable John Hancock, Esq., by which it ap- peared that the Continental Congress, in the name and by the authority of their constitu- ents, had declared that the United Colonies of North America are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, and absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, his Excel- lency the President and the honourable the Council met in the Council Chamber and read the Declaration. They then proceeded to the Square before the Assembly House, and read it likewise before a great concourse of people, when the Grenudier and Light Infantry Coin- panies fired a general volley. After this, they proceeded in the following procession to the Liberty Pole: The Grenadiers in front; the Provost Marshall on horseback with his sword drawn; the Secretary with the Declaration; his Excellency the President; the honourable the Council and gentlemen attending; then the Light Infantry and the rest of the Militia of the town and district of Savannah. At the Liberty Pole they were met by the Georgia Battalion, who, after reading of the Declara- tion, discharged their field pieces, and fired in platoons. Upon this they proceeded to the Battery, at the Trustees Gardens, where the Declaration was read for the last time, and the cannon of the Battery discharged. His Excel- lency and Council, Colonel Lachian McIntosh, and other gentlemen, with the Militia, dined under the Cedar Trees, and cheerfully drank to the United, Free, and Independent States of America. In the evening the town was illumi AT SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. JANE FIELD. 187 nated, and there was exhibited a very solemn funeral procession, attended by the Grenadiers and Light Infantry Companies, and other Mi- litia, with their drnms muffled, and fifes, and a greater number of people than ever appeared on any occasion hefore in this Province, when George the Third was interred before the Court House in the following manner: Forasmuch as George the Third, of Great Britain, hath most flagrantly violated his cor- onation oath, and trampled upon the Consti- tution of our country and the sacred rights of mankind, We therefore conunit his political existence to the ground, corruption to corrup tion, tyranny to the grave, and oppression t eternal infamy, in sure and certain hope that he will never obtain a resurrection to rule again over these United States of America. But, my friends and fellow-citizens, let us not be sorry as men without hope for tyrants that depart; rather, let us remember, America is free and independent! That she is and will be, with the blessing of the Almighty, great among the nations of the earth! Let this en- courage us in well-doing, to fight for our rights and privileges, for our wives and children, for all that is near and dear to us. May God give u& his blessing, and let all the people say, Amen ! JANE FJELD.* BY MARY E. WILKINS. CHAPTER IV. THERE Lois stood. Her small worn shoes hesitated on the threshold. She was gotten up iu her poor little best her dress of cheap brown wool stuff, with its skimpy velvet panel, her hat trimmed with a fold of silk and a little feather. She had curled her hair over her forehead, and tied on a bit of a lace veil. Distinct among all this forlorn and innocent furbishing was h~r face, with its pitiful youthful prettiness, turu- ed toward her mother and the lawyer with a very clutch of vision. Mrs. Field got up. Oh, its you, Lois, she said, calmly. You thought youd come too, didnt you ? Lois gasped out something. Her mother turned to the lawyer. Ill make you acquainted with Miss Lois Field, said she. Lois, Ill make you acquainted with Mr. Tuxbury. The lawyer was looking surprised, but he rose briskly to the level of the situa- tion, and greeted the young girl with ready grace. Your sisters daughter, I conclude, he said, smilingly, to Mrs. Field. Mrs. Field set her mouth hard. She looked defiantly at him and said not one word. There was a fierce resolve in her heart that, come what would, she would not tell this last lie, and deny her daugh- ter before her very face. But the lawyer did not know she was silent. Not having heard any response, with the vanity of a deaf man, he as- sumed that she had given one, and so concealed his uncertainty. Yes, so I thought, said he, and went on flourishingly in his track of gracious reception. Lois kept her eyes fixed on his like some little timid animal which suspects an enemy, and watches his eyes for the first impetus of a spring. Once or twice she said, Yes, sir, faintly. Your niece does not look very strong, Mr. Tuxbury said to Mrs. Field. She aint been feelin very well this spring. Ive been considerable worried about her, she answered, with harsh de- cision. Ah, I am very sorry to hear that. Well, she will soon rqcuperate if she stays here. Elliot is considered a very healthy place. We shall soon have her so hearty and rosy that her old friends wont be able to recognize her. He bow- ed with a smiling flourish to Lois. Her lips trembled with a half-smile in response, but she looked more frightened than ever. Now, Mrs. Maxwell, said the law- yer, you and your niece must positive- ly remain and dine with us to-day, cant you ? Im afraid it will put your sister out. Oh no, indeed. The lawyer, how- ever, had a slightly nonplussed expres- sion. She will be delighted. I will run over to the house, then, and tell her that you will stay, shall I not ? I hate to make her extra work, said Mrs. Field. That was her rural form of acceptance. You will not, I assure you. Dont dis- tress yourself about that, Mrs. Maxwell. * Begun in May number, 1892.

Mary E. Wilkins Wilkins, Mary E. Jane Field. A Novel. 187-194

JANE FIELD. 187 nated, and there was exhibited a very solemn funeral procession, attended by the Grenadiers and Light Infantry Companies, and other Mi- litia, with their drnms muffled, and fifes, and a greater number of people than ever appeared on any occasion hefore in this Province, when George the Third was interred before the Court House in the following manner: Forasmuch as George the Third, of Great Britain, hath most flagrantly violated his cor- onation oath, and trampled upon the Consti- tution of our country and the sacred rights of mankind, We therefore conunit his political existence to the ground, corruption to corrup tion, tyranny to the grave, and oppression t eternal infamy, in sure and certain hope that he will never obtain a resurrection to rule again over these United States of America. But, my friends and fellow-citizens, let us not be sorry as men without hope for tyrants that depart; rather, let us remember, America is free and independent! That she is and will be, with the blessing of the Almighty, great among the nations of the earth! Let this en- courage us in well-doing, to fight for our rights and privileges, for our wives and children, for all that is near and dear to us. May God give u& his blessing, and let all the people say, Amen ! JANE FJELD.* BY MARY E. WILKINS. CHAPTER IV. THERE Lois stood. Her small worn shoes hesitated on the threshold. She was gotten up iu her poor little best her dress of cheap brown wool stuff, with its skimpy velvet panel, her hat trimmed with a fold of silk and a little feather. She had curled her hair over her forehead, and tied on a bit of a lace veil. Distinct among all this forlorn and innocent furbishing was h~r face, with its pitiful youthful prettiness, turu- ed toward her mother and the lawyer with a very clutch of vision. Mrs. Field got up. Oh, its you, Lois, she said, calmly. You thought youd come too, didnt you ? Lois gasped out something. Her mother turned to the lawyer. Ill make you acquainted with Miss Lois Field, said she. Lois, Ill make you acquainted with Mr. Tuxbury. The lawyer was looking surprised, but he rose briskly to the level of the situa- tion, and greeted the young girl with ready grace. Your sisters daughter, I conclude, he said, smilingly, to Mrs. Field. Mrs. Field set her mouth hard. She looked defiantly at him and said not one word. There was a fierce resolve in her heart that, come what would, she would not tell this last lie, and deny her daugh- ter before her very face. But the lawyer did not know she was silent. Not having heard any response, with the vanity of a deaf man, he as- sumed that she had given one, and so concealed his uncertainty. Yes, so I thought, said he, and went on flourishingly in his track of gracious reception. Lois kept her eyes fixed on his like some little timid animal which suspects an enemy, and watches his eyes for the first impetus of a spring. Once or twice she said, Yes, sir, faintly. Your niece does not look very strong, Mr. Tuxbury said to Mrs. Field. She aint been feelin very well this spring. Ive been considerable worried about her, she answered, with harsh de- cision. Ah, I am very sorry to hear that. Well, she will soon rqcuperate if she stays here. Elliot is considered a very healthy place. We shall soon have her so hearty and rosy that her old friends wont be able to recognize her. He bow- ed with a smiling flourish to Lois. Her lips trembled with a half-smile in response, but she looked more frightened than ever. Now, Mrs. Maxwell, said the law- yer, you and your niece must positive- ly remain and dine with us to-day, cant you ? Im afraid it will put your sister out. Oh no, indeed. The lawyer, how- ever, had a slightly nonplussed expres- sion. She will be delighted. I will run over to the house, then, and tell her that you will stay, shall I not ? I hate to make her extra work, said Mrs. Field. That was her rural form of acceptance. You will not, I assure you. Dont dis- tress yourself about that, Mrs. Maxwell. * Begun in May number, 1892. FLORA AND THE CHILDREN RECEIVED THEM BEAMINGLY. [See page 191.] JANE FIELD. 189 Nevertheless, he was quite ill at ease as he traversed the yard. In his life with his sister there were exigencies dur- ing which he was obliged to descend from his platform of superiority. He foresaw the approach of one now. Dinner was already served when he entered the din- ing-room, and his sister was setting the chairs around the table. They kept no servant. They are going to stay to dinner, I expect, he remarked, in an appealingly confidential tone. His sister faced him with a jerk. She was very red from bending over the kitchen fire. Whos goin to stay? What do you mean, Daniel? Why, Mrs. Maxwell and her niece. Her niece? I didnt know she had any niece. How did she get here? She came this noon; followed along after her aunt, I suppose. I dont think she knew she was coming. She acted kind of surprised, I thought. You dont mean theyre comm in here to dinner? I couldnt very well help asking them, you know. His tone was soft and conciliatory, and he kept a nervous eye upon his sisters face. Couldnt help askin em! I ruther guess I could a helped askin em ! Jane, I hadnt any idea theyd stay. Well, youve gone an done it, thats all Ive got to say. Here they didnt come last night, when I got all ready for em, an now theyre comm, an everything weve got is a picked-up dinner; there aint enough of anything to go round. Flora ! Her daughter Flora came in from the kitchen, with the children, in blue ging- ham aprons, at her heels. What is it, mother ? said she. Nothin, only your uncle Daniel has asked that Maxwell woman an her niece to dinner, an theyre goin to stay. My goodness, there isnt a thing for dinner ! said Flora, with a half-giggle. She was so young and healthy and happy that she could still see the joke in an annoyance. Her uncle looked at her beseechingly. Cant you manage somehow? said he. Ill go down to the store and buy some- thing. Down to the store ! repeated his sis- ter, contemptuously. Its one oclock now. He looked at the kitchen clock, visible through the open door, and saw that it indicated half past twelve, but he said nothing. Flora was frowning reflectively, while her cheeks dimpled~ I tell you what Ill do, mother, said she. Ill go over to Mrs. Bennetts and borrow a pie. I think we can get along if we have a pie. I aint goin round the neighborhood borrowin; that aint the way Im accus- tomed to doin. Land, mother! Id just as soon ask Mrs. Bennett as not. She borrowed that bread in here the other night. There aint enough steak to go round; theres jest that little piece we had left from yesterday, an there aint enough stew, said her mother, with persistent wrath. Well, if folks come in unexpectedly, theyll have to take what weve got and make the best of it. Flora tied a hat on over her light hair as she spoke. I dont see any other way for them, she added, laughingly, going out of the door. Its all very well for folks to be easy, said her mother, with a sniff, but when shes had as much as Ive had, I guess she wont take it any easier than I do. I spose now Ive got to take all these things off, an put on a clean table-cloth. That one doesnt look very bad, ven- tured her brother, timidly. No, I shouldnt think it did! Look at that great coffee stain you got on it this mornin! Havin a couple of perfect strangers come in to dinner makes more work than a man knows anything about. Children, you take off the knives, an pile em up on the other table. Be real careful. I wonder if the parlors so I can ask them in there? Mr. Tuxbury remarked, edging toward the door. I spose so. I aint been in there this mornin; I spose its all right unless the children have been in an cluttered it up. No, we aint, gramma, we aint, proclaimed the children in a shrill shout. They danced around the table, removing the knives and forks; their innocent, pinky faces were full of cherubic glee. This occasion was, metaphorically speak- ing, a whole flock of jubilant infantile larks for them. They loved company with all their souls, and they also felt always a pleasant titillation of their youthful spirits when they saw their grandmother voL. Lxxxv.No. 50619 190 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in perturbation. Unless, indeed, they themselves were the cause of it, when it acquired a personal force which rendered it not so entertaining. Soon, however, a remark of their grandmothers caused their buoyant spir- its to realize that there was a force of gravitation for all here below. I dont know but you children will have to wait, said she. There was an instantaneous wail of dis- may, the pinky faces elongated, the blue eyes scowled sulkily. Oh, grainma, we dont want to wait! Cant we sit down with the others? Say, gramma, cant we? Cant we sit down with the others? Of course you can sit down with the others. Dont make such a racket, cliii- dren. That was their mother coming in, good-natured and triumphant, with the pie. I dont know whether they can or not, said their grandmother. I aint put in an extra leaf; this table-cloth want long enough, an I want goin to have the big table-cloth to do up for all the Maxwells in creation.~~ Oh, theres room enough, Flora said, easily. I can squeeze them in be- side me. Put the napkins round, chil- dren, and stop teasing. Didnt I get a beautiful pie? What kind is it ? Squash. An our squashes are all gone, an Ive got to buy one to pay her back. I should have thought youd known bet- ter, Flora. It was all the kind she had. I couldnt help it. Squashes dont cost much, mother. They cost something, an Ive got all them dried apples to use up for pies. Have they come in ?~ asked Flora, with happy unconcern about the cost of squashes and the utilization of dried ap- ples. Yes, I spose so. I thought I heard Daniel takin em in the front door. I spose theyre in the parlor. You ought to go in a minute, hadnt you I spose so, replied Mrs. Lowe, with a sigh of fierce resignation. Ill finish setting the things on the table, and you go in. Take off your apron. ~ This dress dont look fit. Yes, it does, too; its clean. Run along. Mrs. Lowe smoothed her sparse hair se- verely at the kitchen looking-glass; then she advanced upon the parlor with the air of a pacific grenadier. The children were following slyly in her wake, but their mother caught sight of them and pulled them back. Mr. Tuxhury had been sitting in the parlor with his guests, trying his best to entertain them. He had gotten out the photograph album for Lois, and a book of views in the Holy Land for her mo- thier. If lie had felt in considerable haste to escape from his sisters indigna- tion and return to his visitors, they had been equally anxious for him to come. When Mrs. Field and her daughter were left alone in the office, their first sensation was that of actual terror of each other. Mrs. Field concealed hers well enough. She sat up without a tremor in her un- bending back, and looked out of the of- fice door, which the lawyer had left open. Just opposite the door, out on the side- walk, two men stood talking. She kept her eyes fastened upon them. What time did you stai~t ? said she presently, in a harsh voice, which seemed to rudely shock the stillness. She did not turn her eyes. I came on the first train an- swei~ed Lois, pantingly. Once in a while she stole furtive, wildly questioning glances at her mother, but her mother never met them. She continued to look at the talking men on the sidewalk. Mother, began Lois, finally, in a desperate voice. But just then Mr. Tux- bury hind reappeared, and conducted them to his parlor. The parlor had lace curtains and a Brussels carpet, and looked ornate to Mrs. Field and Lois. The chairs were covered with green plush. The two wo- men sat timidly on the yielding cushions, and gazed during the pauses at the large flower pattern on the carpet. All this fine furniture was, in fact, Mrs. Lowes: when she had given up her own home, and come to live with her bi~other, she had brought it with her. Both of the guests arose awkwardly, Mrs. Field first and Lois after her, when Mrs. Lowe entered, and the lawyer intro- duced them. Im happy to make your acquaint- ance, said Mrs. Field. I believe Ive seen you two or three JANE FIELD. 191 times, when you was here years ago, said Mrs. Lowe, standing before her straight and tall in her faded calico gown, which fitted her uncompromising- ly like a cuirass. Mrs. Lowes gowns, no matter how thin and faded, always fitted her in that way. Stretched over her long flat-chested figure, they seemed to acquire the consistency of armor. You aint changed any as I can see, she went on, as she got scarcely any response to her first remark. I should have known you anywhere. Its a pleasant day, aint it? Real pleasant, replied Mrs. Field. Mrs. Lowe sat down in one of the plush chairs. To seat herself for a few minutes before announcing dinner was, she sup- posed, a matter of etiquette. She held up her long rasped chin with a curt air, and, in spite of herself, her voice also was curt. She was too thorough a New England woman to play with any success soften- ing lights over the steel of her character. She disdained to, and she was also unable to. She was not pleased to receive these unexpected guests, and she showed it. As soon as she thought it decently practicable, she gave a significant look at her brother and arose. I guess well walk out to dinner now, said she, with solemn embarrassment. Mrs. Lowe had nothing of her brothers ease of manner; indeed, she entertained a covert scorn for it. Daniel can be dreadful smooth an fine when he sets ont, she sometimes remarked to her daughter. The lawyers suave manner seemed to her downright- ness to border upon affectation. She, however, had a certain respect for it as the probable outcome of his superior edu- cation. She marched ahead stiffly now, and left her brother to his flourishing second- ing of her announcement. Flora and the children received them beaming- ly when they entered the dining-room. Flora was quite sure that she remem- bered Mrs. Maxwell, she was glad to see her, and she was glad to see Lois, and they would please sit right here, and here. She had taken off the childrens pinafores and washed their faces, and they stood aloof in little starched and embroidered frocks, with their cheeks pinker than ever. Flora seated one on each side of her, as she had said. Now, you must be good and not tease, she whispered, ad- monishingly, and their blue eyes stared back at her with innocent gravity, and they folded their small hands demurely. Nevertheless, it was through them that the whole dignity of the meal was lost. If they had not been present, it would have passed off with a strong undercurrent of uneasiness and discom- fort, yet with composure. Mr. Tuxbury would have helped the guests to beefsteak, and the rest of the family would have preferred the warmed-up veal stew. Or had the guests looked approvingly at the stew, the scanty portion of beefsteak would have satisfied the furthest desires of the family. But the perfect under- standing among the adults did not extend to the two little girls. They leaned for- ward, with their red lips parted, and watched their uncle anxiously as he carved the beefsteak. There was evident- ly not much of it, and their anxiety grew. When it was separated into three portions, two of which were dispensed to the guests, and the other, having been declined by their grandmother and mother, was ap- propriated by their uncle, anxiety lapsed into certainty. I want some beefsteak ! wailed each, in wofully injured tones. Mr. Tuxbury set his mouth hard, and pushed his plate with a jerk toward his niece. Her face was very red, but she took itshe was aware there was no other course opendivided the meat impar- tially, and gave each child a piece with a surreptitious thump. Mr. Tuxbur.y, with a moodily knitted forehead and a smiling mouth, asked the guests miserably if they would have some veal stew. It was perfectly evident that if they accepted, there would be nothing whatever left for the family to eat. They declined in terrified haste; indeed, both Lois and her mother had been impelled to pass their portions of beefsteak over to the children, but they had not dared. The children wished for veal stew also, and when they had eaten their meagre spoonfuls, clamored persistently for more. There isnt anymore, whispered their mother, with two little vigorous side- shakes. If you dont keep still, I shall take you away from the table. Aint you ashamed ? Thea the little girls pouted and sniffed, but warily, lest the threat be carried into effect. The rest of the family tried to ignore 192 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the embarrassing situation and converse easily with the guests, but it was a diffi- cult undertaking. Lois bent miserably over her plate, and every question appeared to shock her painfully. She seemed an obstinately bashful yonng girl, to whom it was use- less to talk. Mrs. Field replied at length to all interrogations with a certain quiet hardness, which had come into her man- ner since her daughters arrival, but she never started upon a subject of her own accord. It was a relief to every one when the meagre dinner lapsed into the borrowed pie. Mrs. Lowe cut it carefully into the regulation six pieces, while the children as carefully counted the people and watched the distribution. The result was not satisfactory. The older little girl, whose sense of injury was well devel- oped, set up a shrill demand. I want a piece of Mis Bennetts pie, said she. Mother, I want apiece of Mis Bennetts pie ! The younger, viewing the one piece of pie remaining in the plate and her clam- orous sister, raised her own jealous little pipe. I want a piece of Mis Bennetts pie, she proclaimed, pulling her mothers sleeve. Mother, cant I have a piece of Mis Bennetts pie ? Floras face was very red, and her mouth was twitching. She hastily pushed her own pie to the elder child, and gave the last piece on the plate to the younger. Their grandmother frowned on them like a rock, but they ate their pie unconcern- edly. I think Mis Bennetts pie is a good deal better than grandmas, said the younger little girl, smacking her lips con- templatively; and Flora gave a half- chuckle, while her mothers severity of mien so deepened that she seemed to cast an actual shadow. Now, Flora, I tell you what tis, said she, when the meal was at last over and the guests were gonethey took their leave very soon afterward if you dont punish them children, I shall. There was a wail of terror from the lit- tle girls. Oh, mother, you do it, you do it ! cried they. Flora giggled audibly. Youll just spoil them children, said her mother, severely; you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Flora. Flora triedto drawher face into gravity. Go right up stairs, children, said she. Its so funny, I cant help it, she whis- pered, with another furtive giggle. I dont see anything very funny in childrens actin the way they have all dinner-time. The children thumped merrily over the stairs. It was clear that they stood in no great fear of their mothers chas- tisement. They knew by experience that her hand was very soft, and the force of its fall tempered by mirth and tender con- siderateness; their grandmothers flesh- less and muscular old palm was another matter. Soon after Flora followed them there was a series of arduous cries, apparently maintained more from a childish sense of the fitness of things than from any actual stress of pain. They soon ceased. She aint half whipped em, Mrs. Lowe, who was listening down-stairs, said to herself. The lawyer was in his office; lie had intrenched himself there as soon as pos- sible, covering his retreat with the de- parture of his guests. Mrs. Field and Lois, removed from it all the distance of tragedy from comedy, were walking up the street to the Max- well house. Mrs. Field stalked ahead with her resolute stiffness; Lois followed after her, keeping always several paces behind. No matter how often Mrs. Field, sternly conscious of it, slackened her own pace, Lois never gained upon her. When they reached the gate at the en- trance of the Maxwell grounds, and Mrs. Field stopped, Lois spoke up. What place is this? said she, in a de- fiantly timorous voice. The Maxwell house, replied her mother, shortly, turning up the walk. Are you going in here? Of course I am. Well, I aint going in one step. Mrs. Field turned and faced her. Lois, said she, if you want to go away an desert the mother thats showin herself willin to die for you, you can. Lois said not another word. She turned in at the gate, with her eyes fixed upon her mothers face. Ill tell you about it when we get up to the house, said her mother, with ap- pealing conciliation. Lois slunk mutely behind her again. Her eyes were full of the impulse of flight when sl~e watched her mother un JANE FIELD. 193 lock the house door, but she followed her in. Her mother led the way into the sitting- room. Sit down, said she. And Lois sat down in the nearest chair. She never took her eyes off her mother. Mrs. Field took off her bonnet and shawl. She folded the shawl carefully in the creases, and laid it on the table. She pulled up a curtain. Then she turned, and confronted steadily her daughters eyes. The whole house to her was full of tbe clamor of their questioning. Now, Lois, said Mrs. Field, Im goin to tell you about this. I spose you think its funny. I dont know what to think of it said Lois, in a dry voice. I dont spose you do. Well, Im goin to tell you. You know, I spose, that Mr. Tuxbury took me for your aunt Esther. You heard him call me Mis Maxwell ? Lois nodded, her dilated eyes never wavered from her mothers face. I spose you heard what he was sayin to me when you come in. Lois, I didnt tell him I was your aunt Esther. The minute I come in, he took me for her, an Mis Henry Maxwell come into his office, an she did, and so did Mr. Tuxbury s sis- ter. I want goin to tell them I want her. The impulse of flight in Loiss watch- ful eyes became so strong that it seemed almost to communicate to her muscles. With her face still turned toward her mother, she appeared to be fleeing from her. Mrs. Field stood her ground stanchly. No, I want, she went on. An Ill tell you why. Im goin to have that fifteen hundred dollars of your poor fa- thers earnins that I lent your uncle out of this property, an this is all the way to do it, an Im goin to do it. I thought, gasped Lois I thought maybe it belonged to us anyway if Aunt Esther was dead. It didnt. The money was all left to old Mr. Maxwells niece in case Esther died first. Couldnt you have asked the law- yer about the fifteen hundred dollars? Wouldnt he have given you some? Oh, mother ! I was goin to if he hadnt took me for her, but it wouldnt have done any good. They wouldnt have been obliged~ to pay it, an folks aint fond of payin over money when they aint obliged to. Id been a fool to have asked him after he took me for her. Thenyoud got thisall planned ? Her mother took her up sharply. No, I hadnt got it all planned, said she. I dont deny it come into my head. I knew how much folks said I looked like Esther, but I didnt go so far as to plan it; there neednt anybody say I did. You aint going to take the money ? Im goin to take that fifteen hun- dred dollars out of it. Mother, you aint going to stay here, and make folks think youre Aunt Es- ther ? Yes, I am. Then all Loiss horror and terror man- ifested themselves in one cry Oh, mother ! Mrs. Field never flinched. If you want to act so an feel so about it, you can, said she. Your mother is some older than you, an she knows what is right jest about as well as you can tell her. Ive thought it all over. That fif- teen hundred dollars was money your poor father worked hard to earn. I lent it to your uncle Edward, an he lost it. I never see a dollar of it afterward. He never paid me a cent of interest money. It aint anything moren fair that I should be paid for it out of his fathers property. If poor Esther had lived, the moneyd gone to her, an shed paid me fast enough. Now the ways opened for me to get it, I am t goin to let it go. Talk about its bein right, if it aint right to stoop down an pick up anybodys just dues, I dont know what right is, for my part. Mother ! What say? You aint going to live here in thIs house, and not go back to Green River ? I dont see any need of going back to Green River. This is a nough sight pret- tier place than Green River. Now youre down here, I dont see any sense in layin out money to go back at all. Mandy 11 send our things down. You dont mean to stay right along here in this house, and not go back to Green River at all ? I dont see why it aint jest as well. Youd better take off your things an lay down a little while on that sofa there, an get rested. 194 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Lois seldom cried, but she burst out flow in a piteous wail. Oh, mother, sobbed she, what does it mean? I cant What does it mean? Oh, Im so fright- ened! Mother, you frighten me so! What does it mean Her mother went up to her, and stood close at her side. Lois, said she, with trembling solemnity, cant you trust mother ? Oh, mother, I dont know! I dont know! You frighten me dreadfully. Lois shrank away from her mother as she wept. Mrs. Field stood over her, but she did not offer to touch her. Indeed, this New England mother and daughter rarely or never caressed each other. Lois, dear child, mother dont want you to feel so. Oh, you dear child, you dear child, you dont know what mothers goin through! But it aint anything to you. Lois, you remember that; it aint anything youve done. Its all my doins. Im jest goin to get that money back. An its right I should. Dont you worry nothin about it. Now take your hat off, an let mo- ther tuck you up on the sofa. Lois, sobbing still, began pulling off her hat mechanically. Her mother gqt a pil- low, and she lay down on the sofa, turn- ing her face to the wall with another out- burst of tears. Her mother spread her black shawl carefully over her. Now you lay here still, an get rest- ed, said she. Im goin out in the kitchen, an see if I cant start up a fire an get something for supper.~~ Mrs. Field went out of the room. Soon her tall black figure sped stealthily past the windows out of the yard. She found a grocery store, and purchased some small necessaries. There were groceries already in the pantry at the Maxwell house. She had spied them, but would not touch a single article. She bought some tea, and when she returned, replaced the drawing she had taken that morning from the Maxwell caddy. The old womans will, always vigorous, never giving place to another except through its own choice, now whipped by this great stress into a fierce impetus, carried her daughters, strong as it was for a young girl, before it. Lois lay qui- etly on the sofa. When her mother called her, she went out in the kitchen and ate her supper. They retired early. Lois lay on the sofa until her mother came in and stood over her with a lighted lamp. I guess youd better get up and go to bed now, Lois, said she. Im goin myself if it is early. Im pretty tired. And Lois stirred herself wearily and got up. There were two adjoining bedrooms opening out of the sitting-room. Mrs. Field had prepared the beds that after- noon. I thought wed better sleep in here, said she, leading the way to them. Lois had the inner room. After the lamp was blown out and everything was dark, her mother heard a soft stir and the pat of a naked foot in there; then she heard the door swing to with a cautious creak and the bolt slide. She knew, with a great pang, that Lois had locked her door against her mother. [TO BE CONTINUED.] MARLOWE.* BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. I SHALL preface what I have to say of Marlowe with a few words as to the refinement which had been going on in the language, and the greater ductility which it had been rapidly gaining, and which fitted it for the use of the remark- able group of men who made an epoch of the reign of EliEnbeth. Spenser was un- doubtedly the poet to whom we 6we most in this respect, and the very great con- trast between his Shepheardes Calen- dar, published in 1579, and his later po- ems awakens curiosity. In his earliest work there are glimpses, indeed, of those special qualities which have won for him the name of the poets poet, but they are rare and fugitive, and certainly never ~would have warranted the prediction of such poetry as was to follow. There is nothing here to indicate that a great ar- tist in language had been born. Two causes, I suspect, were mainly effective in this transformation, I am almost tempted to say transubstantiation, of the man. The first was his practice in translation (true also of Marlowe), than which no- * copyright, 1892, by charles Eliot Norton.

James Russell Lowell Lowell, James Russell Marlowe 194-203

194 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Lois seldom cried, but she burst out flow in a piteous wail. Oh, mother, sobbed she, what does it mean? I cant What does it mean? Oh, Im so fright- ened! Mother, you frighten me so! What does it mean Her mother went up to her, and stood close at her side. Lois, said she, with trembling solemnity, cant you trust mother ? Oh, mother, I dont know! I dont know! You frighten me dreadfully. Lois shrank away from her mother as she wept. Mrs. Field stood over her, but she did not offer to touch her. Indeed, this New England mother and daughter rarely or never caressed each other. Lois, dear child, mother dont want you to feel so. Oh, you dear child, you dear child, you dont know what mothers goin through! But it aint anything to you. Lois, you remember that; it aint anything youve done. Its all my doins. Im jest goin to get that money back. An its right I should. Dont you worry nothin about it. Now take your hat off, an let mo- ther tuck you up on the sofa. Lois, sobbing still, began pulling off her hat mechanically. Her mother gqt a pil- low, and she lay down on the sofa, turn- ing her face to the wall with another out- burst of tears. Her mother spread her black shawl carefully over her. Now you lay here still, an get rest- ed, said she. Im goin out in the kitchen, an see if I cant start up a fire an get something for supper.~~ Mrs. Field went out of the room. Soon her tall black figure sped stealthily past the windows out of the yard. She found a grocery store, and purchased some small necessaries. There were groceries already in the pantry at the Maxwell house. She had spied them, but would not touch a single article. She bought some tea, and when she returned, replaced the drawing she had taken that morning from the Maxwell caddy. The old womans will, always vigorous, never giving place to another except through its own choice, now whipped by this great stress into a fierce impetus, carried her daughters, strong as it was for a young girl, before it. Lois lay qui- etly on the sofa. When her mother called her, she went out in the kitchen and ate her supper. They retired early. Lois lay on the sofa until her mother came in and stood over her with a lighted lamp. I guess youd better get up and go to bed now, Lois, said she. Im goin myself if it is early. Im pretty tired. And Lois stirred herself wearily and got up. There were two adjoining bedrooms opening out of the sitting-room. Mrs. Field had prepared the beds that after- noon. I thought wed better sleep in here, said she, leading the way to them. Lois had the inner room. After the lamp was blown out and everything was dark, her mother heard a soft stir and the pat of a naked foot in there; then she heard the door swing to with a cautious creak and the bolt slide. She knew, with a great pang, that Lois had locked her door against her mother. [TO BE CONTINUED.] MARLOWE.* BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. I SHALL preface what I have to say of Marlowe with a few words as to the refinement which had been going on in the language, and the greater ductility which it had been rapidly gaining, and which fitted it for the use of the remark- able group of men who made an epoch of the reign of EliEnbeth. Spenser was un- doubtedly the poet to whom we 6we most in this respect, and the very great con- trast between his Shepheardes Calen- dar, published in 1579, and his later po- ems awakens curiosity. In his earliest work there are glimpses, indeed, of those special qualities which have won for him the name of the poets poet, but they are rare and fugitive, and certainly never ~would have warranted the prediction of such poetry as was to follow. There is nothing here to indicate that a great ar- tist in language had been born. Two causes, I suspect, were mainly effective in this transformation, I am almost tempted to say transubstantiation, of the man. The first was his practice in translation (true also of Marlowe), than which no- * copyright, 1892, by charles Eliot Norton. MARLOWE. 195 __ thing gives a greater choice and mastery of ones mother- tongue, for one must pause and weigh and judge every word with the greatest nicety, and cunningly transfuse idiom into idiom. The other, and by far the more important, was his study of the Italian poets. The Facrie Q ueeneis full of loving reminiscence of them, but their happiest influence is felt in his lyrical poems. For these, I think, make it plain that Italy first taught him how much of the meaning of verse is in its music, and trained his ear to a sense of the harmony as well as the melody of which English verse was ca- pable or might be made capable. Coin- pare the sweetest passage in any lyric of the Shepheardes Calendar with the elo- quent ardor of the poorest, if any be poor, in the Epithalamion, and we find ourselves in a new world where music had just been invented. This we owe, beyond any doubt, to Spensers study of the Italian canzone. Nay, the whole metrical movement of the Epithala- mion recalls that of Petrarcas noble Spirto gentil. I repeat that melody and harmony were first naturalized in our lan- guage by Spenser. I love to recall these debts, for it is pleasant to be grateful even to the dead. Other men had done their share towards what may be called the modernization of our English, and among these Sir Philip Sidney was conspicuous. He probably gave it greater ease of movement, and seems to have done for it very much what Dryden did a century later in establish- ing terms of easier intercourse between the language of literature and the language of cultivated society. There had been good versifiers long be- fore. Chaucer, for example, and even Gower wearisome as he mainly is, made verses sometimes not only easy in move- ment, but in which the language seems strangely modern. That most dolefully dreary of books, The Mirror for Magis- trates, and Sackville, more than any of its authors, did something towards restor- ing the dignity of verse, and helping it to recover its self-respect, while Spenser was still a youth. Tame as it is, the sunshine of that age here and there touches some verse that ripples in the sluggish current with a flicker of momentary illumination. But before Spenser, no English verse had ever soared and sung, or been filled with what Sidney calls divine delightful- ness. Sidney, it may be conjectured, did more by private criticism and argu- ment than by example. Drayton. says of him: The noble Sidney with this last arose, That hero~i for numbers and for prose, That throughly paced our language as to show The plenteous English hand in hand might go With Greek and Latin, and did first reduce Our tongue from Lillys writing then in use. But even the affectations of Lilly were not without their use as helps to refine- ment. If, like Chaucers priest, Somewhat he lisped, for wantonness, it was through the desire To make his English sweet upon his tongue. It was the general clownishness against which he revolted, and we owe him our thanks for it. To show of what brutali- ties even recent writers could be capable, it will suffice to mention that Golding, in his translation of Ovids Metamorpho- ses makes a witch mutter the devils pa- ter-noster, and Ulysses express his fears of going to pot. I should like to read you a familiar sonnet of Sidneys for its sweetness Come, Sleep: 0 Sleep! the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor mans wealth, the prisoners release The indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof, shield me from out the press Of those fierce darts despair at me doth throw; O make in me those civil wars to cease I will good tribute pay if thou do so. Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed; A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light; A rosy garland and a weary head: -~ And if these things, as being thine of right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, Livelier than elsewhere, Stellas image see. There is ease in this, and simplicity; but in such a phrase as baiting-place of wit there is also a want of that perfect discretion which should be a character- istic of the language of poetry, and espe- cially in the sonnet. Perhaps the lan- guage owes more to Sidney for ease than for anything else, but its elevation was mainly the achievement of Spenser. Do not consider such discussions as these otiose or nugatory. The language we are fortunate enough to share, and which, I think, Jacob Grimm was right in pronouncing, in its admirable mixture of Saxon and Latin, its strength and sono- rousness, a better literary medium than any other modern tonguethis language 196 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. has not been fashioned to what it is with- out much experiment, much failure, and infinite expenditure of pains and thought. Genius and pedantry have each done its part towards the result which seems so easy to us, and yet was so hard to win the one by way of example, the other by way of warning. The purity, the ele- gance, the decorum, the chastity of our mother - tongue are a sacred trust in our hands. I am tired of hearing the foolish talk of an American variety of it, about our privilege to make it what we will be- cause we are in a majority. A language belongs to those who know best how to use it, how to bring out all its resources how to make it search its coffers round for the pithy or can orous phrase that suits the need, and they who can do this have been always in a pitiful minority. Let us be thankful that we too have a right to it, and have proved our right, but let us set up no claim to vulgarize it. The English of Abraham Lincoln was so good not because he learned it in Illinois, but because he learned it of Shakespeare and Milton and the Bible, the constant com- panions of his leisure. And how perfect it was in its homely dignity, its quiet strength, the unerring aim with which it struck once nor needed to strike more! The language is alive here, and will grow. Let us do all we can with it but debase it. Good taste may not be necessary to sal- vation or to success in life, but it is one of the most powerful factors of civiliza- tion. As a people we have a larger share of it and more widely distributed than I, at least, have found elsewhere, but as a nation we seem to lack it altogether. Our coinage is ruder than that of any country of equal pretensions, our paper money is filthily infectious, and the en- graving on it, mechanically perfect as it is, makes of every bank-note a missionary of barbarism. This should make us cau- tious of trying our hand in the same fashion on the circulating medium of thought. But it is high time that I should remember Maitre Guillaume of Pathelin, and come back to my sheep. In coming back to speak of Marlowe, I cannot help fearing that I may fail a lit- tle in that equanimity which is the first condition of all helpful criticism. Gen- erosity there should be, and enthusiasm there should be, but they should stop short of extravagance. Praise should not weaken into eulogy, nor blame fritter itself away into fault-finding. Goethe tells us that the first thing needful to the critic, as indeed it is to the wise man gen- erally, is to see the thing as it really is; this is the most precious result of all cult- ure, the surest warrant of happiness, or at least of composure. But he also bids us, in judging any work, seek first to dis- cover its beauties, and then its blemishes or defects. Now there are two poets whom I feel that I can never judge with- out a favorable bias. One is Spenser, who was the first poet I ever read as a boy, not drawn to him by any enchantment of his matter or style, but simply because the first verse of his great poem was, A gentle knight was pricking on the plain, and I followed gladly, wishful of adven- ture. Of course I understood nothing of the allegory, never suspected it, fortunate- ly for me, and am surprised to think how much of the language I understood. At any rate, I grew fond of him, and when- ever I see the little brown folio in which I read, my heart warms to it as to a friend of my childhood. With Marlowe it was otherwise. With him I grew acquainted during the most impressible and receptive period of my youth. He was the first man of genius I had ever really known, and he naturally bewitched me. What cared I that they said lie was a deboshed fellow? nay, an atheist? To me he was the voice of one singing in the desert, of one who had found the water of life for which I was panting, and was at rest under the palms. How can he ever be- come to me as other poets are? But I shall try to be lenient in my admiration. Christopher Marlowe, the son of a shoe- maker, was born at Canterbury, in Feb- ruary, 1563, was matriculated at Benet College, Cambridge, in 1580, received his degree of bachelor there in 1583 and of master in 1587. He came early to Lon- don, and was already known as a dram- atist before the end of his twenty-fourth year. There is some reason for thinking that he was at one time an actor. He was killed in a tavern brawl by a man named Archer, in 1593, at the age of thir- ty. He was taxed with atheism, but on inadequate grounds, as it appears to me. That he was said to have written a tract against the Trinity, for which a license to print was refused on the ground of blasphemy, might easily have led to the greater charge. That he had some opin MARLOWE. 197 ions of a kind un usual then, may be in- ferred, perhaps, from a passage in his Faust. Faust asks Mephistopheles how, being damned, he is out of hell. And Mephistopheles answers, Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. And a little farther on he explains himself thus: Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be; A.nd, to conclude, when all the earth dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.~~ Milton remembered the first passage I have quoted, and puts nearly the same words into the mouth of his Lucifer. If Marlowe was a liberal thinker, it is not strange that in that intolerant age he should have incurred the stigma of gen- eral unbelief. Men are apt to blacken opinions which are distasteful to them, and along with them the character of him who holds them. This at least may be said of him with- out risk of violating the rule of ne quid nimis, that he is one of the most mascu- line and fecundating natures in the long line of British poets. Perhaps his energy was even in excess. There is in him an Oriental lavishness. He will impoverish a province for a simile, and pour the rev- enues of a kingdom into the lap of a de- scription. In that delightful story in the book of Esdras, King Darius, who has just dismissed all his captains and gov- ernors of cities and satraps, after a royal feast, sends couriers galloping after them to order them all back again because he has found a riddle under his pillow, and wishes their aid in solving it. Marlowe in like manner calls in help from every the remotest corner of earth and heaven for what seems to us as trivial an occa- sion. I will not say that he is bombastic, but he constantly pushes grandiosity to the verge of bombast. His contempora- ries thought he passed it in his Tam- burlaine. His imagination flames and flares, consuming what it should caress, as Jupiter did Semele. That exquisite phrase of Hamlet, the modesty of na- ture, would never have occurred to him. Yet in the midst of the hurly-burly there will fall a sudden hush, and we come upon passages calm and pellucid as monn- tam tarns filled to the brim with the purest distillations of heaven. And, again, there are single verses that open silently as roses, and surprise us with that seem- Von. Lxxxv.No. 506.20, ingly accidental perfection, which there is no use in talking about because itself says all that is to be said and more. There is a passage in Tamburlaine which I remember reading in the first course of lectures I ever delivered, thirty- four years ago, as a poets feeling of the inadequacy of the word to the idea: If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit If these had made one poems period, And all combined in beautys worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest. Marlowe made snatches at this forbid- den fruit with vigorous leaps, and not without bringing away a prize now and then such as only the fewest have beers able to reach. Of fine single verses I give a few as instances of this: Sometimes a lovely boy in Dians shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides, Shall bathe him in a spring. Here is a couplet notable for dignity of poise describing Tamburlaine: Of stature tall and straightly fashion~d, Like his desire, lift upward and divine. For every street like to a firmament Glistered with breathing stars. Unwedded maids Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Than have the white breasts of the queen of Love. This, from Tamburlaine, is particularly characteristic: Nature Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds. Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planets course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Will us to wear ourselves and never rest Until we reach the ripest fruit of all. One of these verses reminds us of that exquisite one of Shakespeare where he says that Love is Still climbing trees in the Hesperides. But Shakespeare puts a complexity of meaning into his chance sayings, and lures the fancy to excursions of which Marlowe never dreamt. But, alas, a voice will not illustrate like a stereopticon, and this tearing away of 198 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fragments that seem to bleed with the avulsion is like breaking off a finger from a statue as a specimen. The impression he made upon the men of his time was uniform; it was that of something new and strange; it was that of genius, in short. Drayton says of him, kindling to an unwonted warmth, as if he loosened himself for a moment from the choking coils of his Polyolbion for a larger breath: Next Marlowe bath~d in the Thespian springs Had in him those brave translunary things That the first poets bad; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear; For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poets brain. And Chapman, taking up and continuing Marlowes half-told story of Hero and Leander, breaks forth suddenly into this enthusitism of invocation: Then, ho! most strangely intellectual fire That, proper to my soul, hast power to inspire Her burning faculties, and with the wings Of thy unspher~d flame visitst the springs Of spirits immortal, now (as swift as Time Doth follow motion) find the eternal clime Of his free soul whose living subject stood Up to the chin in the Pierian flood. Surely Chapman would have sent his soul on no such errand had he believed that the soul of Marlowe was in torment, as his accusers did not scruple to say that it was, sent thither by the manifestly Di- vine judgment of his violent death. Yes, Drayton was right in classing him with the first poets, for he was indeed such, and so continues that is, he was that most indefinable thing, an original man, and therefore as fresh and contemporaneous to-day as he was three hundred years ago. Most of us are more or less hampered by our own individual- ity, nor can shake ourselves free of that chrysalis of consciousness and give our souls a loose, as Dryden calls it in his vigorous way. And yet it seems to me that there is something even finer than that fine madness, and I think I see it in the imperturbable sanity of Shakespeare, which made him so much an artist that his new work still bettered his old. I think I see it even in the almost irritating calm of Goethe, which, if it did not quite make him an artist, enabled him to see what an artist should be. and to come as near to being one as his nature allowed. Marlowe was certainly not an artist in the larger sense, but he was cunning in words and periods and the musical modulation of them. And even this is a very rare gift. But his mind could never submit itself to a controlling purpose, and re- nounce all other things for the sake of that. His plays, with the single excep- tion of Edward II., have no organic unity, and such unity as is here is more apparent than real. Passages in them stir us deeply and thrill us to the marrow, but each play as a whole is ineffectual. Even his Edward II. is regular only to the eye by a more orderly arrangement of scenes and acts, and Marlowe evidently felt the drag of this restraint, for we miss the uncontrollable energy, the eruptive fire, and the feeling that he was happy in his work. Yet Lamb was hardly ex- travagant in saying that the death scene of Marlowes king moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or mod- ern, with which I am acquainted. His tragedy of Dido, Queen of Garthage, is also regularly plotted out, and is also somewhat tedious. Yet there are many touches that betray his burning hand. There is one passage illustrating that luxury of description into which Marlowe is always glad to escape from the business in hand. Dido tells .A~neas: ~neas, Ill repair thy Trojan ships Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me, And let Achates sail to Italy; Ill give thee tackling made of rivelled gold, Wound on the barks of odoriferous trees; Oars of massy ivory, full of holes Through which the water shall delight to play; Thy anchors shall be hewed from crystal rocks Which, if thou lose, shall shine above the waves; The masts whereon thy swelling sails shall hang Hollow pyramides of silver plate; The sails of folded lawn, where shall be wrought The warsof Troy, but not Troys overthrow; For ballast, empty Didos treasury; Take what ye will, but leave neas here. Achates, thou shalt be so seemly clad As sea-horn nymphs shall swarm about thy ships And wanton mermaids court thee with sweet songs, Flinging in favors of more sovereign w6rth Than Thetis hangs about Apollos neck, So that ~Eneas may but stay with me. But far finer than this, in the same costly way, is the speech of Barabas in The Jew.~of Malta, ending with a line that has incorporated itself in the language with the familiarity of a proverb: Give me the merchants of the Indian mines That trade in metal of the purest mould; The wealthy Moor that in the Eastern rocks Without control can pick his riches up, And in his house heap pearl like pebble-stones, MARLOWE. 199 Receive theni free, and sell them by the weight; Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts, Jacyntbs, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds, Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds, And seld-seen costly stones of so great price As one of them, indifferently rated, May serve in peril of calamity To ransom great kings from captivity. This is the ware wherein consists my wealth: Infinite riches in a little room. This is the very poetry of avarice. Let us now look a little more closely at Marlowe as a dramatist. Here also he has an importance less for what he ac- complished than for what he suggested to others. Not only do I think that Shakespeares verse caught some hints from his, but there are certain descriptive passages and similes of the greater poet which, whenever I read them, instantly bring Marlowe to my mind. This is an impression I might find it hard to convey to another, or even to make definite to myself; but it is an old one, and constant- ly repeats itself, so that I put some con- fidence in it. Marlowes Edward II. cer- tainly served Shakespeare as a model for his earlier historical plays. Of course he surpassed his model, but Marlowe might have said of him as Oderisi, with pathetic modesty, said to Dante of his rival and sur- passer, Franco of Bologna, The praise is now all his, yet mine in part. But it is always thus. The path-finder is for- gotten when the track is once blazed out. It was in Shakespeares Richard II. that Lamb detected the influence of Marlowe, saying that the reluctant pangs of ab- dicating royalty in Edward furnished hints which Shakespeare has scarce im- proved upon in Richard. In the paral- lel scenes of both plays the sentiment is rather elegiac than dramatic, but there is a deeper pathos, I think, in Richard, and his grief rises at times to a passion which is wholly wanting in Edward. Let me read Marlowes abdication scene. The irresolute nature of the king is finely in- dicated. The Bishop of Winchester has come to demand the crown; Edward takes it off, and says: Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too: Two kings of England cannot rei~n at once. But stay awhile: let me be king till night, That I may gaze upon this glittering c own; So shall my eyes receive their last content, My head the latest honor due to it, And jointly both yield up their wish~d right. Continue ever, thou celestial sun; Let never silent night possess this clime; Stand still, you watches of the element; All times and seasons, rest you at a stay That Edward may be still fair Englands king! But days bright beam doth vanish fast away, And needs I must resign my wish~d crown. Inhuman creatures, nursed with tigers milk, Why gape you for your sovereigns overthrow ? My diadem, I mean, and guiltless life. See, monsters, see, Ill wear my crown again. What, fear you not the fury of your king? Ill not resign, but whilst I live be king Then, after a short further parley: Here, receive my crown. Receive it? No; these innocent hands of mine Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime: He of you all that most desires my blood, And will be called the murderer of a king, Take it. What, are you moved? Pity you me? Then send for unrelenting Mortimer, And Isabel, whose eyes, being turned to steel, Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear. Yet stay, for rather than Ill look on them, Here, here !Now, sweet God of Heaven, Make me despise this transitory pomp, And sit for aye enthroniz~d in Heaven! Come, Death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, Or, if I live, let me forget myself. Surely one might fancy that to be from the prentice hand of Shakespeare. It is no small distinction that this can be said of Marlowe, for it can be said of no other. What follows is still finer. The ruffian who is to murder Edward, in order to evade his distrust, pretends to weep. The king exclaims: Weepst thou already? List awhile to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is, Or as Matrevis, hewn from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt ere I have done my tale. This dungeon where they keep me is the sink Wherein the filth of all the castle falls, And there in mire and puddle have I stood This ten days space; and, lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum; They give me bread and water, being a king; So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, My minds distempered and my body numbed, And whether I have limbs or no I know not. 0, would my blood dropt out from every vein, As doth this water from my tattered robes! Tell Isabel the queen I looked not thus, When, for her sake, I ran at tilt in France, And there unhorsed the Duke of Cler~mont. This is even more in Shakespeares early manner than the other, and it is not un- grateful to our feeling of his immeasur- able supremacy to think that even he had been helped in his schooling. There is a truly royal pathos in They give me bread and water; and Tell Isabel the queen, instead of Isabel my queen, is the most vividly dramatic touch that I 200 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. remember anywhere in Marlowe. And that vision of the brilliant tournament, not more natural than it is artistic, how does it not deepen by contrast the gloom of all that went before! But you will observe that the verse is rather epic than dramatic. I mean by this that its every pause and every movement are regularly cadenced. There is a kingly composure in it, perhaps, but were the passage not so finely pathetic as it is, or the diction less naturally simple, it would seem stiff. Nothing is more peculiarly characteristic of the mature Shakespeare than the way in which his verses curve and wind them- selves with the fluctuating emotion or passion of the speaker and echo his mood. Let me illustrate this by a speech of Imogen when Pisanio gives her a letter from her husband bidding her meet him at Milford-Haven. The words seem to waver to and fro, or huddle together be- fore the hurrying thought, like sheep when the collie chases them. 0, for a horse with wings !Hearst thou, Pisanjo? He is at Milford-Haven: Read, and tell me How far tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day ?Then, true Pisanio (Who longst like me to see thy lord; who longst 0, let me batebut not like meyet longst But in a fainter kind :0, not like me; For mines beyond heyond)say, and speak thick (Loves counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To the smothering of the sense), how far it is To this same blessed Milford: and, by the way, Tell me how Wales was made so happy as To inherit such a haven: but, first of all, How we may steal from hence. The whole speech is breathless with haste, and is in keeping not only with the feeling of the moment, but with what we already know of the impulsive character of Imogen. Marlowe did not, for lie could not, teach Shakespeare this secret, nor has anybody else ever learned it. There are, properly speaking, no char- acters in the plays of Marlowebut per- sonages and interlocutors. We do not get to know them, but only to know what they do and say. The nearest approach to a character is Barabas, in The Jew of Malta, and he is but the incarnation of the popular hatred of the Jew. There is really nothing human in him. He seems a bugaboo rather than a man. Here is his own account of himself: As for myself, I walk ahroad o nights, And kill sick people groaning under walls; Sometimes I go about and poison wells; And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, I am content to lose some of my crowns, That I may, walking in my gallery, See em go pinioned by my door along; Being young, I studied physic, and began To practise first upon the Italian; There I enriched the priests with burials, And always kept the sexton~ s arms in ure With digging graves and ringing dead mens knells; And, after that, was I an engineer, And in the wars twixt France and Germany, Under pretence of helping Charles the Fifth, Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems. Then, after that, was I an usurer, And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, And tricks belonging unto brokery, I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year, And with young orphans planted hospitals; And every moon made some or other mad, And now and then one hang himself for grief, Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll How I with interest tormented him. But mark how I am blest for plaguing them I have as much coin as will buy the town. Here is nothing left for sympathy. This is the mere lunacy of distempered imagination. It is shocking, and not terrible. Shakespeare makes no such mistake with Shylock. His passions are those of a man, though of a man depraved by oppression and contumely; and he shows sentiment, as when he says of the ring that Jessica had given for a monkey: It was my turquoise. I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor. And yet, ob- serve the profound humor with which Shakespeare makes him think first of its dearness as a precious stone and then as a keepsake. In letting him exact his podnd of flesh, he but follows the story as he found it in Giraldi Cinthio, and is care- ful to let us know that this Jew had good reason, or thought he had, to hate Chris- tians. At the end, I think he meant us to pity Shylock, and we do pity him. And with what a smiling background of love and poetry does he give relief to the sombre figure of the Jew! In Marlowes play there is no respite. And yet it comes nearer to having a connected plot, in which one event draws on another, than any other of his plays. I do not think Milman right in saying that the in- terest falls off after the first two acts. I find enough to carry me on to the end, where the defiant death of Barabas in a caldron of boiling oil he had arranged for another victim does something to make a man of him. But there is no controlling reason in the piece. Nothing happens because it must, but because the author wills it so. The conception of MARLOWE. 201 life is purely arbitrary, and as far from nature as that of an imaginative child. It is curious, however, that here, too, Marlowe should have pointed the way to Shakespeare. There is no resemblance, however, between the Jew of Malta and the Jew of Venice, except that both have daughters whom they love. Nor is the analogy close even here. The love which Barabas professes for his child fails to humanize him to us, because it does not prevent him from making her the abhor- rent instrument of his wanton malice in the death of her lover, and because we cannot believe him capable of loving any- thing but gold and vengeance. There is always something extra~agant in the im- agination of Marlowe, but here it is the extravagance of absurdity. Generally he gives us an impression of power, of vast- ness, though it be the vastness of chaos, where elemental forces hurtle blindly one against the other. But they are elemen- tal forces, and not mere stage properties. Even in Tamburlaine, if we see in him as Marlowe, I think, meant that we should see the embodiment of brute force, without reason and without con- science, he ceases to be a blusterer, and becomes, indeed, as he asserts himself, the scourge of God. There is an exultation of strength in this play that seems to add a cubit to our stature. Marlowe had found the way that leads to style, and helped others to find it, but he never ar- rived there. He had not self - denial enough. He can refuse nothing to his fancy. He fails of his effect by over-em- phasis, heaping upon a slender thought a burthen of expression too heavy for it to carry. But it is not with fagots, but with priceless Oriental stuffs, that he breaks their backs. Marlowes Dr. Faustus interests us in another way. Here he again shows him- self as a precursor. There is no attempt at profound philosophy in this play, and in the conduct of it Marlowe has follow- ed the prose history of Dr. Faustus close- ly, even in its scenes of mere buffoonery. Disengaged from these, the figure of the protagonist is not without grandeur. It is not avarice or lust that tempts him at first, but power. Weary of his studies in law, medicine, and divinity, which have failed to bring him what he seeks, he turns to necromancy. These metaphysicsof magicians (he says) And necromantic books are heavenly. Oh, what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honor, of omnipotence, Is promised to the studious artizan! All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings Are but obey~d in their several provinces; Nor can they raise the winds or rend the clouds; But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man. A sound magician is a mighty god. Here, faustus, tire thy brains to gain a deity. His good angel intervenes, but the evil spirit at the other ear tempts him with power again: Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky, Lord and commander of these elements. Erelong Faustus begins to think of power for baser uses: How am I glutted with conceit of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise I will? Ill have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for Orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates; Ill have them read me strange philosophy, And tell the secrets of all foreign kings. And yet it is always to the pleasures of the intellect that he returns. It is when the good and evil spirits come to him for the second time that wealth is offered as a bait, and after Faustus has signed away his soul to Lucifer, he is tempted even by more sensual baits. I may be reading into the book what is not there, but I cannot help thinking that Marlowe in- tended in this to typify the inevitably continuous degradation of a soul that has renounced its ideal, and the drawing on of one vice by another, for they go hand in hand like the Hours. But even in his degradation the pleasures of Faustus are mainly of the mind, or at worst of a sen- suous and not sensual kind. No doubt in this Marlowe is unwittingly betraying his own tastes. Faustus is made to say: And long ere this I shonld have slain myself Had not sweet pleasure conquered deep despair. Have I not made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexanders love and ~Enons death? And bath not he that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp Made music with my Mephistophilis? Why should I die, then? basely why desjair ? This employment of the devil in a duet seems odd. I remember no other instance of his appearing as a musician except in Burnss Tam o Shanter. The last wish of Faustus was Helen of Troy. 202 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Mephistophilis fetches her, and Faustus exclaims: Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burned the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena: Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. No such verses had ever been heard on the English stage before, and this was one of the great debts our language owes to Marlowe. He first taught it what passion and fire were in its veins. The last scene of the play, in which the bond with Luci- fer becomes payable, is nobly conceived. Here the verse rises to the true dramatic sympathy of which I spoke. It is swept into the vortex of Fausts eddying thought, and seems to writhe and gasp in that agony of hopeless despair. Ab, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damned perpetually. Stand still, ye ever-moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease and midnight never come; Fair Natu~s ~y rise, rise again, and make Perpetu~ ~ ~r et this hour be but A year a month, ~ week, a natural day, That ~ustus inky repent and save his soul! The stai~ ra~ve still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil wfll come, and Faustus must be damned. Oh, Ill leap upto my God! Who pulls me down? See, see, where Christs blood streams in the firmament! One drop would save my soulhalf a drop ; ah, my Christ! Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ! Yet will I call on Him. Oh, spare me, Lucifer! Where is it now? Tis gone; and see where God Stretcheth out His arm and bends His ireful brows! Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God! No? No? Then will I headlong run into the earth. Earth, gape! Oh no, it will not harbour me! Ah! half the hour is past; twill all he past anon. O God, If Thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet, for Christs sake, whose blood hath ransom- ed me, Impose some end to my incessant pain; Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years A hundred thousandand at last be saved! Oh, no ends limited to damn~d souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why was this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast! All beasts are happy, For when they die Their souls are soon dissolved in elements; But mine must live still to be plagued in Hell! Cursed be the parents that engendered me! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, That hath deprived thee of the joys of Heaven. Oh, it strikes! it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to Hell. O soul, be changed to little waterdrops And fall into the ocean; neer be found! My God, my God, look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile. Ugly. Hell, gape not. Come not, Lucifer! Ill burn my books. Ah, Mephistophilis ! It remains to say a few words of Mar- lowes poem of Hero and Leander, for in translating it from Mus~us he made it his own. It has great ease and fluency of versification, and many lines as perfect in their concinnity as those of Pope, but infused with a warmer coloring and a more poetic fancy. Here is found the verse that Shakespeare quotes somewhere. The second verse of the following couplet has precisely Popes cadence: Unto her was he led, or rather drawn, By those white limbs that sparkled through the lawn. It was from this poem that Keats caught the inspiration for his Endymion. A single passage will serve to prove this: So fair a church as this had Venus none; The walls were of discolored jasper stone, Wherein was Proteus carved, and overhead A lively vine of green sea-agate spread, Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung, And with the other wine from grapes out- wrung. Milton, too, learned from Marlowe the charm of those long sequences of musical proper names of which he made such ef- fective use. Here are two passages which Milton surely had read and pondered: So from the East unto the furthest West Shall Tamburlaine extend his puissant arm; The galleys and those pilling brigantines That yearly sail to the Venetian gulf, And hover in the straits for Christians wreck, Shall lie at anchor in the isle Asant, Until the Persian fleet and men of war Sailing along the Oriental sea Have fetched about the Indian continent, Even from Persepolis to Mexico, And thence unto the straits of Jubaltar. This is still more Miltonic: As when the seaman sees the Hyades Gather an army of Cimmerian clouds, Auster and Aquilon with winged steeds, All fearful folds his sails and sounds the maui. Spenser, too, loved this luxury of sound, as he shows in such passages as this: Now was Aldebaran uplifted high Above the starry Cassiopeias chair. CAPTAIN JOHN. 203 And I fancy he would have put him there to make music, even had it been astronom- ically impossible, but he never strung such names in long necklaces as Mar- lowe and Milton were fond of doing. Was Marlowe, then, a great poet? For such a title he had hardly range enough of power, hardly reach enopgh of thought. But surely he had some of the finest qualities that go to the making of a great poet; and his poetic instinct, when he had time to give himself wholly over to its guidance, was unerring. I say when he had time enough, for he, too, like his fel lows, was forced to make the daily task bring in the daily bread. We have seen how fruitful his influence has been, and perhaps his genius could have no surer warrant than that the charm of it linger- ed in the memory of poets, for theirs is the memory of mankind. If we allow him genius, what need to ask for more? And perhaps it would be only to him among the group of dramatists who surrounded Shakespeare that we should allow it. He was the herald that dropped dead in an- nouncing the victory in whose fruits he was not to share. CAPTAIN JOllY. (1814.) BY JOHN HEARD, JUN. I. NEAR the top of the ridge that runs more or less parallel to the main street of Horta, the principal town of Fayal, stands a small, double - storied house of a bright poppy-red color, that contrasts not unpleasingly with the green vines by which it is partially covered. A little below, in the garden, surrounded more Fayalcnse by high lava walls lined with a hedge of camellias, are the pine- apple houses, the orange grove, the dove- cot, and the wine estufa. Behind, in the compound, and a little higher upon the terraced swell of the hill, stands the old office, washed white with lime, and also buried in verdure; the windmill for grind- ing the household wheat; and the mon- umental cistern, with its complex net of conduits and multiple little water-wheels, set one below the other along the main trough that runs through the gardens. It was to this pretty home that Captain John Tottencourt retired after his last whaling voyagea most unlucky one; for early in the second year of his cruise he had lost his right foot, caught in the bight of a line that was whistling over the thwarts in the wake of a right-whale he had just harpooned; and a couple of months later, on his return from the Cape Verdes, his ship was picked up by a northeaster in Horta Bay, dashed against the sea-wall, and ground to pulp on the rocks that surround this socalled harbor with a row of teeth as sharp and hungry as those of a shark. Here, on the summit of the hill, whence he could sweep both entrances of the chan- nel with his glass, the old sailor lived alone with his comely daughter. Orient, who was the only one to into good humor when the gon i the toes that~jj~ still owne~ the foot that was somewhere& of Africa, and yet hurt hi it were within reach of his ith plenty of Trinidad tobacco, a butt of sherry to keep him merry, and enough gin to warm his grin, honest old John thought himself pretty well fixed and happy. On stormy nights, when the wind whis- tled through the halyards of his flag-staff, he loved to pull on his souwester and well-greased left boot, and stump up and down the little quarter-deck he had built over the roof, calling to imaginary mates through his trumpet, and trying to fancy that heT was once more handling his lost ship over the familiar whaling-grounds. On such occasions, always provided his arch-enemy, the gout, would allow it, he became as nimble on his jury-leg as had that been a part of his original rigging. After standing his watch, and thus hav- ing his little pleasure, as Orient would say in her uncertain Portuguese English, he would come down to his cabin, brew a glass of stiff grog, and turn in, all stand- ing, on an old hair-cloth sofa, leaving dis- tinct orders to be called at eight bells, or any time before that if the weather shift- ed. The time in his house was always

John Heard Heard, John Captain John (1814). A Story 203-213

CAPTAIN JOHN. 203 And I fancy he would have put him there to make music, even had it been astronom- ically impossible, but he never strung such names in long necklaces as Mar- lowe and Milton were fond of doing. Was Marlowe, then, a great poet? For such a title he had hardly range enough of power, hardly reach enopgh of thought. But surely he had some of the finest qualities that go to the making of a great poet; and his poetic instinct, when he had time to give himself wholly over to its guidance, was unerring. I say when he had time enough, for he, too, like his fel lows, was forced to make the daily task bring in the daily bread. We have seen how fruitful his influence has been, and perhaps his genius could have no surer warrant than that the charm of it linger- ed in the memory of poets, for theirs is the memory of mankind. If we allow him genius, what need to ask for more? And perhaps it would be only to him among the group of dramatists who surrounded Shakespeare that we should allow it. He was the herald that dropped dead in an- nouncing the victory in whose fruits he was not to share. CAPTAIN JOllY. (1814.) BY JOHN HEARD, JUN. I. NEAR the top of the ridge that runs more or less parallel to the main street of Horta, the principal town of Fayal, stands a small, double - storied house of a bright poppy-red color, that contrasts not unpleasingly with the green vines by which it is partially covered. A little below, in the garden, surrounded more Fayalcnse by high lava walls lined with a hedge of camellias, are the pine- apple houses, the orange grove, the dove- cot, and the wine estufa. Behind, in the compound, and a little higher upon the terraced swell of the hill, stands the old office, washed white with lime, and also buried in verdure; the windmill for grind- ing the household wheat; and the mon- umental cistern, with its complex net of conduits and multiple little water-wheels, set one below the other along the main trough that runs through the gardens. It was to this pretty home that Captain John Tottencourt retired after his last whaling voyagea most unlucky one; for early in the second year of his cruise he had lost his right foot, caught in the bight of a line that was whistling over the thwarts in the wake of a right-whale he had just harpooned; and a couple of months later, on his return from the Cape Verdes, his ship was picked up by a northeaster in Horta Bay, dashed against the sea-wall, and ground to pulp on the rocks that surround this socalled harbor with a row of teeth as sharp and hungry as those of a shark. Here, on the summit of the hill, whence he could sweep both entrances of the chan- nel with his glass, the old sailor lived alone with his comely daughter. Orient, who was the only one to into good humor when the gon i the toes that~jj~ still owne~ the foot that was somewhere& of Africa, and yet hurt hi it were within reach of his ith plenty of Trinidad tobacco, a butt of sherry to keep him merry, and enough gin to warm his grin, honest old John thought himself pretty well fixed and happy. On stormy nights, when the wind whis- tled through the halyards of his flag-staff, he loved to pull on his souwester and well-greased left boot, and stump up and down the little quarter-deck he had built over the roof, calling to imaginary mates through his trumpet, and trying to fancy that heT was once more handling his lost ship over the familiar whaling-grounds. On such occasions, always provided his arch-enemy, the gout, would allow it, he became as nimble on his jury-leg as had that been a part of his original rigging. After standing his watch, and thus hav- ing his little pleasure, as Orient would say in her uncertain Portuguese English, he would come down to his cabin, brew a glass of stiff grog, and turn in, all stand- ing, on an old hair-cloth sofa, leaving dis- tinct orders to be called at eight bells, or any time before that if the weather shift- ed. The time in his house was always 204 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ships time, and of late years nothing had delighted the old whaler more than a clock that struck and pointed bells in- stead of hours, and which a friend had had built expressly for him. It was nearly the middle of July, 1812, before this old Provincetown whaler learned that war had been declared be- tween the United States and England. For several days vague rumors, brought at second hand by native fishing-smacks, had fired his imagination, and caused his missing foot to kick nettles, as he ex- pressed it; but the weather was not suffi- ciently boisterous to warrant any shout- ing on the quarter-deck, and he was sad- ly at a loss for some means of exhausting his impatient worrying. He rose early habitually, but now he was dressed and down-stairs before it was fairly light; his morning nip no longer soothed him, and while waiting for the cup of black coffee sweetened with molasses and saucerful of lobscouse which he called breakfast, he pretended to care for his plants and bushes, and did a little desultory weeding here and there. Whatever he said in so- liloquy during these early morning hours, however picturesque, will not bear quot- ing; indeed, it would be quite unintelli- gible to any one not acquainted with the dock-yard vocabulary of many languages, pronounced according to the Cape Cod theory of phonetics. When breakfast was over, always be- fore six bells, the Captain called his man Joao and stumped off by a roundabout routethe direct one being too steep for his yawl rig, as he called his one leg and crutchtowards the consulate, which was closed, of course, and there he was left to exercise his ingenuity in whiling away the time until the dark red gates of the court-yard were swung open. He was invariably the first in the Captains Room, where he at once took possession of the chair by the window, and of the telescope that hung in the leather sheath behind it. Here he spent the greater part of the day, blustering in the morn- ing, reasonable about noon, apologetic as the day wore on, and finally suppliant towards evening. He assumed once and for all that some definite news had been received, but that for some far-fetched reason it was being withheld from him. On one occasion he even forgot himself so far as to offer a sum of money for jest one look at them last despatches. Under one pretext or another he loitered about the consulate compound until sun- set, dining on provisions bought at the nearest grocery, or perhaps on some lit- tle delicacy which his daughter Orient began regularly to bring from home as soon as she understood his new mode of life. At dusk, when the gates were closed, he apologized for his intrusion, and stumped off in silence as far as the next corner, feeling both humiliated and sore. But here the pent-up indignation that had been gathering virulence all through the day invariably caused a wrathful e~plo- sion. Every day the good-natured Jo~o had to listen to a volley of imprecations that startled his ignorance, and to a chap- ter of threats so evidently extravagant that they failed to frighten even him; and every day he learned afresh what an extraordinary man his old master would be if he only had two serviceable legs, and a ships deck whereon to stem them. When the rumors of war were finally confirmed, and Captain John was allowed to read the despatch, as he ever after called this document, he mopped his fore- head thoughtfully, and said, more to him- self than to the other men in the room: Gosh! Ef thet aint complete! They got bouten eight hundred ship o war, an we got bouten twenty, I reckon. - But Im glad ov it, an twas a right smart thing to do. I wishGeorge !I wish I hed two legs, or thet there one was some more handy. I sort o feel a hankerin to sail in. Gosh! I dosure ! For the first time in many days he went home in silence, and sat brooding until late into the night. His uselessness had come home to him, and the bruise of the blow hurt; for~ough he was close upon sixty, his stttrd cart still beat with the pulse of tWe~ five; and it was pathetic to watch t~ie 41d sea-dog sitting in his arm-chair, gazing silently, even reproach- fully, at his wooden leg. When the news came of the action be- tween the Guerrire and the Constitu- tion, Captain John, dressed in his blue broadcloth coat studded with buttons as large as brass saucers, sallied forth in quest of additional details; but the only papers received at the consulate were English, and the accounts of the fight were written in disparagement of Ameri- can sailors. What the Captain said, after spelling CAPTAIN JOHN. 205 through the various accounts,was certain- ly very picturesque, yet it must be ac- knowledged, as a matter of fact, that such words as are not usually represented in print by a dash were few and far between in this speech. But, to be sure, he had never pretended to be a kid-glove officer, and he loved the pop of a word as dearly as that of a cork. On his return home he ordered Orient to clear the deck for action and invite all the Americans in the town to join in the celebration which was noisy and quite in accord with the ideas of conviviality entertained by our ~reat-grandfathers. Before evening Captain John felt so much like his old self that he proposed buying and fitting out a trig little craft to do a little fight- ing on his personaf accountwooden leg or no. By morning, however, he had changed his mind. That redoubtable pri- vateer the gout had hove in sight, and attacked him with such energy that the QJ4 fire-eater was crippled in a very short gement and obliged to strike his col o . I couldnt hey done it, he said to imself, in consolatory extenuation I couldnt hey done it nohow, s fur s I ken see, couht ov Orient. She aint mar- ried, the girl aint, an I got to look out. for her, I hey, hem a daughter. I got to leave her nough to live on, sames she allus hez. Now f I come todie, f I come to lose everything, I reckon shed hey to go into a convent, an convents, I hear tell, air mean places. G-oSh! I wish shed ben a boy!U Before t e next despatches reached a al he had worried through his gout ~d got hims~lf ship-shape again. The Wasp, the Hornet, the ~nited States, all afforded him praisewor~r opportunities for repeating the pleasant ittle entertain- ments ii~augurated by the ~victory of the Constitution. When the disaster of the Chesapeake became known to him he hesitated somewhat as to what course he should pursue, and returned to his house in a meditative mood. Well, father, asked Orient, as the old man sat silently puffing at his pipe before the office window, shall I tell Jo~o to present your compliments to the gentlemen, as usual? Compliments, eh? he broke out iras- cibly. Compliments be blowed! Ef it wernt for them ringin their Tower bells in London over this victory, derned ef Id believe twas true; not one word VoL. LXXXV.No. 50621 of it, Orient! I want to know what for they hed any call for to ship a lot of Por- tugee sailors on n American shipeli? Gosh-dol-blame me f I know! Waal, guess t oughter teach em. Ef t hednt ben for thet- Waal, now, they aint no use talkin. But say, Orient, he contin- ued, with a sly twinkle in his left eye, come to reckon, spose we look at it this way? Spose we take it tmight a ben a lickin the Britishers gev them blanked Portugees? Eh? Waal, now. I want to know. Thets an idee. Taint much to crow bout, but you ken say what youre mind to, bloods thickern water, an Im gled ov it. Tmakes me feel right smart. I guess you mighten call the boys round sames usual. Its dead low tide and were here, sure; but we ken talk v somethin else. II. In those days war seemed to be the natural pursuit of mankind. The allies of yesterday were the adversaries of to- day, and the map of Europe was a hope- lessly changing kaleidoscope. In remote places like the Western Islands, where news was old long before the correct de- tails were received, the most insignificant local events seemed of far greater impor- tance than the fall of a kingdom or the destruction of an army. In Fayal the great sensation of the spring of 1814 was the wrecking of the whaling brig Martha S., a New Bedford ship, homeward bound after a long and successful voyage. Of the three boats that put out when it be- came evident that nothing could save her from the clutch of the breakers on her lee, only the mates reached the little patch of sand by the North Fort, where she was flung up high and dry. This mate, the one officer saved, was Increase Tawresey, the son of Captain Johns only sister, and it is needless to say that the warm - hearted, hot - headed old sailor at once took him into his home and confidence. Increase had left the United States before the beginning of the war, but in the various ports at which the Martha S. had touched be had learn- ed much that was new to Captain John. For a few days they were busy compar- ing accounts, discussing results, and bor- rowing victories from the future; but at the end of that time Increase began to think the old man somewhat of a bore, and to look upon Orient, whom bashful- 206 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ness and foreign training kept much in the background, as a rather pretty but silly little creature. For a diversion he tried the town; but even in its palmy days Fayal had little to offer to one who had travelled and seen as much as Taw- resey, so that it was not long before lie returned to the house on the bill, deter- mined to be pleased and happy with its inmates; and as where theres a will theres a way, lie soon discovered much to ]ike and to admire in Captain John. By degrees he broke through the barrier of reserve, more apparent than real, that surrounded Orient, and the better he knew her the more he liked and appre- ciated his half-foreign cousin. On the other hand, lie was a fair-looking, well- set-up young fellow, with an open, rather d~ishing, manner, and it was but natural that the girl should be pleased and un- consciously flattered by his attentions. They were perforce thrown much to- gether, and their kinship was no barrier to intimacy. Captain John watched them with suc- cessive feelings of amusement, interest, amazement, and anger. In the bottom of his heart lie would have been delight- ed to have married these children, if the match had been entirely of his own mak- ing; but it nettled him to realize that while he was still dreaming of a possible future, they had, without consulting him, taken the matter into their own hands and transformed that future into a pres- ent. They had defrauded him of a pre- rogative which he considered exclusively his own, and his indignation was aroused. They had ignored him, and his pride was hurt. They were about to beard him, and his blood boiled at the thought. But as he was a man of experience, he con- cealed these sentiments under an irregu- lar but generally gruff behavior that suit- ed him and his gout, and awaited his opportunity. The young people felt this change of temper instinctively with the acuteness of perception due to an uneasy conscience, and became, if possible, more fond of one another. Thus, disguised under a perhaps exces- sive assumption of good feeling, an armed neutrality really existed between the two camps. Neither had anything to gain by breaking the peace, and both waited with equal impatience for something de- cisive to happen. The storm broke one morning late in September, a season during which the anger of the elements exercises an un- comfortable influence on the temper. It was raining briskly, and Captain John, Orient, and Increase were seated together in the office, the old man in his pull-out chair by the window, smoking; the young people over what might seem to be a game of checkers. The incessant hushed mut- tering of their voices and the intermit- tent clack-clacking of the counters ap- parently irritated the Captain, whose temper was already sorely tried by the pulsations of the bundle of bandages that represented his foot, for he su~den- ly plucked his pipe from his mouth, spat at the square sand-box beside him, and called out: What the mischief air you two a-pa- paguying about, anyway? Sence you got- ten together they aint no peace or quiet in this house. I declar fort its worsern a hen-coop full o perroqueets. Gosh! its my house, aint it? N jest you mind, you got to obey orders, gd-dosh it! On- - - ent, you go n seeyou run n find my-.~-- Here, you jest get outen here! I want td speak to Inky, special. Now, young fel- ler, lie continued, as the girl left the room, you set right there where I ken see you, anjest let me ask you a ques- tion. Whatnow spose some one sort o wanted to know what youre a-doin round here, what dyou reckon youd hey to say to him? Well, Uncle John Dont you find no call to ntrupt me tell Im done, young feller. Why aint you a-flghtin for your country? No ships goin home, eh? Waal, ef I xv young s you air, Id 11 nd a way to get home, ships or no ships. Then sudden- ly wheeling in his seat, he burst out ir- relevantly with the question that was gnawing at his heart. What air you figgerin on doin bout that girl, eli? Blank you! speak up, square n straight. You cant gallivant round the garden an rose-bushes an cut posies with me, an talk bout nightin- gales an dickv-birds an the Lord himself couldnt tell what not, an hold my hand. I seen you. Come, spet it out. George! why dont you say somethin, stead of messin round in your breeches pocket es though youd lost the last dollar I lent you? Waal, no! I didnt mean that, Inky. Gosh! man, set down. I didnt mean that. I take it all back; I do, CAPTAIN JOHN. 207 hawnest. T kind o slipped out, unbe- knownst. I declar fort sometimes I do talk like some them old women down t home, weth narthin t say an all day t say it. You know Id give you evry shillin as Orient wouldnt want an you might. There, thats right; I how I oughtnt t huv said it. But, rippety-rap- pety blank! man, what do you mean to do by thet girl? Shes the ony one I hey, and, gosh! shes a beauty! Shes a beauty like What is it bout a pearl an a pig? Waal, let it go. I never was handy with thet kind o slush. But you aint got no right to Speak out, Inky Yes, uncle, as soon as you will let me, the young man answered, growing cooler as the Captain became more in- volved and confused. I should like to marry Orient, and shes willing. Per- haps I ought to have spoken about it be- fore, but it wernt until yesterday I got a job, and I waited for that before letting on about it. They want me to take the Corvo, and have offered a good lay. Then theres the house down t York, in Maine, and nigh on to two thousand comin~ to me from the Martha Captain John was silent, or, rather, he was silenced, for a few minutes; then he doubled again. Sail under thet tiddle- dywinks of a rap of a Portugee flag? Did you mean it hawnest? Aint your own flag good enough? What re you doin it for? Runnin away because weve got war with them [dear! dear! what a blank 1 Britishers? Runnin away, air you? Well, Id ruther lose thet condemned leg, an this arm, an thet arm, and her. God strike me dead on my own deck before Id say yes to thet! Here, call the girl. Orient! Ori- ent! Come here you- Hello! whats that? Hand me thet glass, Inky. Shes a noyes, she is; shes a brig comm in at the northeast channel; and there goes her flagby ! our flag! Run, Inky; run, man. Get down there and find out all you can about her. When he dropped the glass and looked around, he was alone; for Increase, de- lighted with the diversion, and confident that time would make everything right, had rushed away at the first suggestion. For a moment he looked down despond- ently, and cried out: Oh, bless this gout! bless this blessed old leg! Orient! Ah, here you are! I must get down to the Castle. See ef you cant move that foot o mine. Gentlygently-GENTLY! Whow! Gosh! girl, that hurt. He gasped, and lay back a little while, with his eyes half closed; then braced himself and asked for a glass of grog. It wont do thet bundle much sight o good, but it 11 help me powerful, he said, by way of apology. There, thets complete. I feel better already. Fill up my pipe, will you? and tell Jo~o to get some sort o litter, an four men to handle it. I cant help it, Orient. Ive got to go, an the Lord aint a-goin to hail me yet awhile. An ef He is, he continued, after thinking over the possi- bility of the proposition, and shutting his long thin lips together an ef He is, Im goin all the same. When his pipe was half smoked lie looked up again, and bade her sit down on a low stool beside him. An so she wants to leave the old man, does she, my little Orient ? he asked. Tell me the truth, now. Does she want to go off with that young Does she love him ? Very softly, Yes, father ! and a ctish- ion of golden yellow silk suddenly nestled against his waistcoat. So she ud leave the old man alone ? Father please; oh, father ! and a sob. He laid his scaly, knotted hand upon the golden cushion and stroked it, while a thinner, harder hand clutched at his heart-strings so viciously that the tears came into his eves. An so she loves him, does she ? he said again, hoping to be contradicted, and yetsuch is the inconsistency of pa- ternal heartsglad to hear the answer: Oh yes, father, II do love him. Please dont be angry with us. Cant we always live together just as we do now With her arms around my neck ? he answered suddenly, softened, and for a long time after neither spoke. His pipe had gone out, but the rugged fingers still moved slowly with a rough, caressing gesture over her gold - enhaloed head. Both were dreamingthe old man of the happy past, the girl of the happy future and their dreams were alike; for there is but one spring in the life of man, and love is as the sea, that changeth ever, yet is always the same. While they were sitting thus, the door suddenly burst open, and Increase rushed in, breathless and panting. 208 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZiNE. Its Captain Sam Reid, in the General Armstrong, he cried, as soon as he could speak. Shes put in for water, and the Governor has given them the freedom of the port for twenty-four hours. He says he wont have time to come all the way up here, but he wants to see you bad. Couldnt you manage to get down there someway, Uncle John ? Sam Reid? in the Armstrong? Get there, eh? Bgosh! Ill get there or bust. Wheres thet chair they was goin to get me? Run, Inky; run, boy! See whats become of thet rascal Joao. Get there, eh? Ill Damme ef thet chair dont come long purty soon Ill bust right bere. Is she straight from home? Now wheres thet boy gone to? You go an see, Orient, an tell em to hurry. III. About five oclock of the same after- noon there was a commotion in the Cap- tains Room at the consulate. Three sail had been sighted from the northeast point, and immediately afterward the word British flashed down from the semaphore. Reid lost no time, but col- lected his crew and at once put off for his brig. He well knew that English com- manders could not he trusted to respect the rights of neutral ports that were not sufficiently fortified to enforce them, and he expected to he attacked. There was of course, no hope of escape, and but lit- ~le hope of effective resistance, but he de- termined to make a gallant defence, or, as lie put it to Captain John, If Im a-goin to die, John, he said, Im a-goin to die hard. His ship measured 246 tons, was manned by ninety men, including officers, and carried seven guns, only one of which, her Long Tom, was a forty-two pounder.* The British squadron consisted of the ship of the line Plantagenet, 74 guns, the frigate Rota, 44, and the brig Carna * This gun is now in the Santa Cruz Fort at Fayal. It ori,inally belonged to the French line-of-battle ship Hoehe (84 guns) captured by Sir John B. War- ren, and was bought in England with the rest of her main battery of forty-two pounders, sold to the United States government, and rejected on account of an indentation in the muzzle by which it can be recognized to-day. After serving on an American privateer chartered by Haiti during that republics war with France, it lay for several years in South Street, New York city, and was finally mounted on a pivot of the General Armstrong, private armed brig. tion, 18; in all 136 guns, manned by two thousand picked men on their way to New Orleans. The defences of the port con- sisted of the Castle, a crumbling little pentagon of lava blocks armed with some fifteen guns, and of a smaller fort to the northeast, in still worse condition. The garrison did not muster 150 sorry substi- tutes for soldiers. Under these condi- tions it was reasonable, but common- place, to surrender on summons; abso- lutely insane, but ublirne, to fight. Reid fotyht. The moment he set foot on deck he gave the order to pipe all hands, and in a few vigorous words he explained the sit- nation. As soon as they find out who we are, boys, he concluded, they are sure to attack us. I am going to stay and see the fun. How do you feel about it? The men gave him three cheers for an answer, and a minute later the stars and stripes were floating over the gallant lit- tle brig. One half the crew cleared her for action, the other began to warp her inshore under the guns of the fort, while a launch from the Carnation approach- ed near enough to make out her name through the glass, and immediately rowed back to her ship. From the consulate window Captain John watched the suspicious movements of the British boats, and closed his tele- scope with a snap. Shell never get outen here, he said, pointing down to the Armstrong. Theyre goin to attack her, neutrality or no neutrality, and Sam Reids goin to fight. I told you so! Did you hear thet? he cried, as the cheer of his countrymen rang across the water. Bgosh! I wish I could fight too, stead o lyin here like a bale o rags afire an smokin at the top end. Hello! look t thet! Here they come four launches, an bout fotty men to each. Fower tems fottyhow many ds thet make, Orient? Theres Peter Tyson drawin a bead on em with his Long Tom. Tharll be daylight somewhere when lie barks. Thets right, Peter; you stick to your gun. I never took much ccount o carronades myself, though they might come handy gainst boats. ]~ook out now.... Thars Reid hollarin to em to keep off. Keep off be blowed! thet aint what they come for. Hi! hi! I told you so. Did you see her flesh? I wish thet durned smoke ud clear or blow tother way. Smoke hez CAPTAIN JOHN. 209 got a way o comm to leeward same ez wa- ter will run down.... Thar you air again thar you air. Bang! whizz! bang! hear the splash? Gosh! aint they n a hurry to get away? Look at em runjest look at em run, will you, s f they got fast to a fin-back. The boys are cheerin too. Cheer away, you lubbers! Taint all ov youll hey nother show in the mornin. Ohthis leg! Get me a glass ov agurdente, Inky, I Whewch! ef thet foot aint hot! Thankee, Inky; thet allus goes to the right place. In the consulate all was bustle and con- fusion. The American sailors in port, some thirty-five or so, came rushing in from all quarters of the town, and stood in the archway, talking excitedly. In the street the green-coated, yellow-strapped soldiers were marching past towards the landing, whence they directed all small boats to be pulled inshore and stripped of their oars and sails. Messengers, all- important and excited, were running to and fro between the executive mansion and the different consular offices, and from the row of houses opposite the sea- wall came the wails of frightened women and children and the hoarse cries of wrangling men. Darkness had come on, and only increased the confusion. In the semi-twilight the little American brig could be clearly seen on the bright sur- face of the bay like a black spot on a Claude Lorraine glass, the lanterns glim- mering now here, now there, across her decks and in her rigging. Then for a while all became quiet, so quiet that most people imagined the fighting over for the night. The soldiers were withdrawn, and such as were not on duty loitered about the ramparts of the old fort in expectant curiosity, while the most adventurous of the youths and boys crouched behind the parapet along the street and watched the ships through the crevices between the blocks of lava. Captain John, however, knew that this first attack was merely a prelude, and explained his reasons therefor to the group of American sailors, every one of whom looked up to him with admiration, and listened with envy to his oath-enam- elled language. Little by little, with consummate but unconscious skill, he worked them up into a state of patriotic enthusiasm, and when at last he asked them to carry his chair down to the land- ing, so that he might be nearer to the scene of action, they drew aside and whis- pered together in the shadow of the Castle wall. In his little office on the first floor, the consul, John Dabney, was busy writing messages to the Governor and receiving his answers, when an old boatswains mate stepped into the lighted circle of the lamp, with a couple of nautical-looking shadows for a background. Well? the consul said, as he look- ed up from his paper. Oh, it is you, Eliphalet. What can I do for you ? Please, sir, the old fellow answered, scratching the floor its this way, sir: Iwe-youoh, the devil! Can we go aboard the Armstrong, sir ? The Governor has just sent me a mes- sage to say that you could not. After a pause: An whats your way of thinkin, sir ? The Governor says you cannot go. Eliphalet pulled at his cap for a mo- ment, and looked back at his companions. Thankee, sir, he said, finally, edging towards the door. An savin your par- don, sir, the Governor Mr. Dabney laughed, and bent over his desk again. Well, he said to himself, Ive delivered the message. If they want to go, I suppose theyll go. I cant stop them. And went on with his writing. Down at the landing, Captain John, with Orient and Increase beside him, the group of sailors surrounding them, was watching the ships through his night- glass. Eliphalet had repeated his intei~ view, and the men were cursing. Whats the matter now ? asked the Captain. Is thet all? Gosh! ef I only hed a leg or two twouldnt bother me to get out there. Shes not fifty fathom out 1 Theres only five in the lot can swim, uncle; wed thought of that too. Hello! What does that mean? Have they given her up ? A boat had put out from the privateer, and was rowing ashore, the oars creaking hard, as though she were. heavily laden, and the men crowded forward with eager curiosity. About thirty landed, and the last pushed the launch out again with his foot. What does this mean, boys ? Increase asked; elbowing his way through the line. Who is in command here? Have you left the ship ? You bet we have, one of the fore- most answered, speaking with a foreign 210 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. accent. Theyre gettin ready to attack us with a whole fleet of boats, and we wernt a-goin to stay and be shot to pieces. Shame! you curs ! Increase had sprung forward; his right fist suddenly shot out from his shoulder, and the cow- ard reeled backward, while a volley of commendatory exclamations broke on the volley of oaths that preceded it. Now, boys ! cried the young man, stripping off his jacket. Theres our boat. Ill have it back here in half a minute. Here goes 1 and turning quick- ly he dived off the landing - steps; two others followed; a few strong strokes brought her alongside, and the men tum- bled in and sprang to the oars. Now ! and before the astonished renegades had realized what had happened, their volun- teer substitutes were swarming up the side of the brig. For once in his life the smoke of his pipe choked Captain John. God bless the son of a gun ! he said, hoarsely and triumphantly, shaking his fist. Orient girl, ef he gits back, you ken hey him. By , you shell hey him, right off to- morrow mornin, Dont say notaint a bit ov use. I say you shell ! Oh, father, please. Hush! Look t thet; theyre a-comm, ten, twelveay, fourteen ov em. Thet officer of theirs must be a dandy; theyre a-comm on like sheep to the slaughter- house. I want to knownow I want to know. Did you ever see anything to beat thet? Gosh! this aint a clam-bake! Jest you watch for Peter Tysons first shot, and ef he dont knock e-tarnal salvation into some v em sos skunk grease wont do them not a mite o good Hi! there she blo-o-ows! Rattle away tell you cant hear yourselves think. Must be three hunderd them fellows in the boats. Three hunderd! Gosh! yes, n more too. Whoop- sy glory! there she goes agin! They wont be no three hunderd to look for their ships when this fog ov smoke lifts. I wonder what Inkys doin? Dont take on, Orient. I reckon hes doin wellfust rate. Its an opportunity for a young man. Oh! drat this leg! I wish Iwas there, stead o here, doin narthin but use up cuss words. Oh, good! Did you see that one go through em? Hoorah, boys! Gosh! theyre haulin off. No! there they come agin, all hunched like a school of herrin. Now look out for Peter. There! thets him. Whizz-bang! See them scatterjest watch em scatter. Its a good show, Orient. Them fellers n thet boat purty nigh got aboard. Quick, there, some o you. Ah, thats right, theyve got em. Busted em off like flies. Splash em in, splash em in, the ! Ets hot in there jest bout now, I reckon. Now theres that cussed smoke blowin this way agin. The wind had shifted suddenly, and for the next few minutes they could distin- guishi nothing but the flashes of flame from the guns. Then a pause; another flash or two; a minute of quiet; then a cheer from the brig, another, and yet an- other, rang through the cloud that was floating upwards and towards them. From the dark stillness that lay like oil upon the waters came the irregular splashing of oars and a confused noise of men~ s voices crying to one another, a subdued sound, yet varied and multi- plied, like all voices of the night. Then the smoke cleared; for a brief moment the moon broke through ~the clouds, and they could see the things that were done, and the horrible things that were left undone. In spite of his enthusiasm, Captain John shuddered. The execution had been appalling. Three launches had completely disappeared; three more were drifting helplessly towards the rocks, their cargo of dead and wounded inex- tricably entangled. In another boat two sailors were vainly struggling with the sweeps and calling for help; the rest were rowing away slowly, yet as fast as they could, out of reach of the murder- ous fire from the brig. Captain John looked at his watch, and said, Twenty-eight minutes; then, af- ter a pause, he added, meditatively, Thet were bout s good fightin s ever I see. Orient had buried her head in his lap, and was sobbing in a half-frightened, half-hysterical way. Dont do thet, Orient, he said, patting her gently. It hurts, an it dont do ny good to no one. War is war, my girl, an thet means fighten; ets allus ben so, n I kind 0 reckon et allus will be; n you n I cant change it. Inky 11 be all right... .1 de- clar thet girls tryin her best to borrow trouble, sames mother used to, an Im jest sot dead agin it. The moon had disappeared again, and all became quiet and dark around them. CAPTAIN JOHN. 211 Across the bay the ships lanterns flitted about like fire-flies, with the same appar- ent lack of purpose. At the end of the street the lights of the consulate shone dimly through the dust-covered windows, and from the town beyond came a con- fused murmur, like the buzzing of many insects on a summer night. After the angry, bellowing noise of the fight, the present stillness was so profound as to seem audible, and it was not like the still- ness of rest, but like the ominous still- ness of suspense, pregnant with impend- in g storm. While they were waiting, the town clock struck one, and a little later the consul came down towards them. Ho! Captain John! Captain John ! lie called out. Is that you ? Ay, ay, sir. Port your helm and come alongside. Thets the pigeon, as they say in Chiny. Shake hands, sir, on thet fight. Guess youre mighty glad you was born down on the Cape. I am. Hrn! Well, now that it is all over, come and take a shake-down with me. It is rather late for you and Orient to go all the way home. Well, now, Mr. Dabney, thets real kind o you, the Captain broke in; but it aint all over, ccordin to my reckon- in, an I guess Ill jest hover round an see it out. Thankee all the same, sir; an ef youll send my boy Jo~o down here, an take Orient along Oh, father, let me stay, please Ho-ho! Shes a chip ov the old block, you see, the old fellow cried out, delight- ed. An ef its a girl, she shell wear a weddin-ring, An ef its a boy, lie shell fight agin the king! An thets about the size of it, Mr. Dab- ney. My boy Inkys doin the fightin, an this girls a-goin to wear a weddin- ring soons ever he comes ashore. Ha! ha! It ud be real kind o you, sir, ter fix it all ship-shape for me some time to- morrer. Will you, now? Well, I de- clar! Thankee, sir, thankee, an good- night to you. While the Governor and the various consuls talked and argued and scribbled and copied their scribbling ,Captain John sat in his arm-chair and swore; for after the excitement of the evening the pain in his stump and toe burned merrily through the night. But a little after daybreak he once more forgot his legs, for the British brig Carnation was drawing inshore, with the evident intention of making short work of the privateer. Oh ho! said the old Captain, as a broadside whistled across the water and shattered against the rocks; this lookss though t might be the end. Now, Peter, old man, lets see ef youre loaded for Thets a good shot; clean through her topmast! Look out, therepshaw! them fellers cant shoot wuth shucks. Its bout as much they ken do to hit the isl- and. Sam Reids goin to try a shot him- self now. Good shot, Sam! Thet one took em square in the bellyI see the splinters fly from here. An, o course, theres thet smoke agin, so I cant see narth in. Well, fire away, you lubbers! Shoo! Im a skunk ef she aint haulin off. She aint, now? Yes, by the Lord God Amighty, she is runnin away, runnin plumb away! Look out there, Orient; run, girl! Oh, these legsits comm dead atop o mea-ah ! As he spoke, a last shot from the re- tiring brig struck the stone coping of the landing - wharf, and a large fragment spun into the air above the little group. The Captain saw it and attempted to rise, but his legs were useless, and the falling iron mass struck him squarely across the chest. At the same moment a dull report rang out from the privateer; her boats were lowered and manned, and as the brave crew reached the shore, the little vessel settled in the shallow water. The pivot of her Long Tom had become disabled, and Captain Reid, seeing that further resistance was impossible, had scuttled his ship. The fight was over, and, though none knew it at the time, New Orleans was saved.* After the landing, all was confusion. The Governor protested against the reten- tion of their arms by the American sail- ors, and Captain Reid wisely agreed with him in order to forestall the possibility of a renewal of hostilities on land. For further protection, Reid determined to quarter his men in the San Francisco * Lloyd (med Lloyd, as he was called) was on his way to Jamaica, where lie was to join Admiral Cocli- rane and take part in the expedition against New Orleans. The fight in Fayal detained him several days, so that the armament arrived before Ne~ Or- leans foor days after General Jackson had ari-ived thei-e himself. Hot for this delay the expedition would have found the town unprotected, and its captuie mi~ht have materially altered the conditions of the treaty of peace wiLh England. 212 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Church, and marched them off at once. During his three actions with the enemy he had lost one officer and one seaman only, and their dead bodies were laid out reverently before the altar. The wound- ed, seven in number, were made as com- fortable as possible in a side chapel, and the rest of the men were told off in watch- es, the starboard watch doing sentinel duty at the doors. These arrangements completed, he started off at once with a few men to seek for Captain John, of whose wounding he had only just been apprised. They found him, still uncon- scious, on the spot where he had been struck, with Orient, Increase, and the consul bending over him. Reid took the heavy, passive hand in his and called to his old comrade: John, John, old man! Its meSam. Cant you hear me, old fellow? Poor old John, Im afraid Come, boys, take him up gently. My! but its a pity! Id rather have lost-_ The boom of a gun drowned his last words, and he started as he felt Captain John close his hand over his own and draw himself up to a sitting posture. The wounded man looked around him for a moment with a puzzled expression and laughed, a little foolishly, as the second broadside sounded over the water. Well, I declar, he said, feebly, ef they aint still a-shellin Sams ship, an she sunk, an not a man aboard ov her! Thets pure unadultrated cussedness; pure cussedness, I call it, though its a deal handier for em n when he was on deck. Hee! hee! Bgolly, Sam, s that you? You done well, Sam; you done well. I reckon you must hey George! aint my head queer! Inky boy, are you there? Get me a glass of sothin to stiffen up on. Ef it hadnt ben for them legs, Sam, them dratted old legs- What was I sayin? Oh yes; them legs is covered plumb up to the top with barnacles. Gosh! whats aiim me? he cried, fall- ing back. Reid called to his men. Come, boys, quick! Take him up to the church. Ill be right along. Tell Mr. Brosonham to do what he can, and more too ! But in spite of the surgeons efforts Cap- tain John remained unconscious until about two oclock in the afternoon, when he opened his eyes and sat up. Guess I must hey nother ov them blamed bilious attacks-everything looks kind o blue. Eh! whats this? Lookss though t might be a church. He paused for a moment and smiled childishly. Must be Inkys weddin ; and with un- certain fingers he pulled off his large Guinea coast zodiac ring and held it up. Im glad ov it, now its come. Who giveth this woman away? Who what? Oh yes. I forgot. I give her. away. Aint I got a right to? Shes my daugh- ter. Now, whats that noise? he went on, pettishly, as a roll of muffled drums sounded at the lower end of the street. The surgeon explained to him that the British had obtained permission to bury their dead, and that the cort~~ge was form- ing below, and suddenly the old man rallied. Sam! he called out, in his usual high- keyed voice. Sam! turn the boys out to salute the dead. There aint no feelin agin dead men but good feelins. Theyre all friends, Sam. You, n I, n all ov us got to die some day. Listen! the drum says, Come; come; come, come, come! Ill hey to set through it all cause o them legs; but you can pologize bout it to em afterwards. Boys, by boats crews, form! Hats off, an no cheerin, now. Theyve gone afore the Chief Ad- miral, Him as commands all good sail- ors. A murmur of approbation rippled through the crowd; the large doors swung open; the men fell in; and before they had realized what they were doing, they had formed before the church, two deep, their officers in a central group, on the little three-cornered plaza that over- looks the street. Reid stood, bareheaded, beside Captain Johns chair, and as the solemn proces- sion passed slowly below them lie heard him repeating, Come; come; come, come, come! moving his fingers gently to the slow rhythm of the drum-beat. In- stinctively officers and men saluted as their late foes passed by on their last march, to heaven; for Jack is a poet, and the sea has taught him the reverence of death. When the last file had passed, Reid bent over to speak to Captain John, then held up his hand in token of silence. Out of the distance down the street they still heard the drum calling, Come; come; come, come, come I and they understood; old John Tottencourt had gone. PRESENTATION OF HELENA TO THE KING. THE COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. A. ABBEY, AND COMMENTS BY ANDREW LANG. VIII. ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. THE Scotch, with unconscious absurdity, sometimes talk of tempting Provi- dence. In writing Alls Well that Ends Well, Shakespeare was tempting the Higher Criticism. Ever since the days of Zenodotus in Alexandria the Higher Criticism has revelled in athetising, or marking as spurious, this part of an au- thors work because it is unworthy of him, that part because it is not in his style, a third portion because it is a repe- tition ofsomething he has said elsewhere, and so on, till in Homer there are few lines to which some German or some Alexandrian Greek has not urged objec- tions. To similar exercises of idle inge- nuity has Alls Well that Ends Well been exposed. When Lucian met Homer in VOL. LXXXV.No. 506; 22 the Fortunate Islands, he asked the poet which of the rejected passages were really his own. All and every one of them,~, answered the shade; and Shakespeares ghost might have made as inclusive a re- sponse to critical inquiries. Yet Alls Well is certainly a play full of difficulties and enigmas. It was first printed in the folio of 1623, and very badly printed it was. None of the dramas contains so many passages that appear to be corrupt; none is so rich in the unintelligible; none so open to conjectural emendation. Dr. Hudson, in his Shalcespeare,* guesses, but he only offers his opinion as a guess, that the piece is a very early one amended by the author at a later period. If this be * Boston, 1882. If!

William Shakespeare Shakespeare, William All's Well That Ends Well. Illustrations By E. A. Abbey. Comment By Andrew Lang. 213-228

PRESENTATION OF HELENA TO THE KING. THE COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. A. ABBEY, AND COMMENTS BY ANDREW LANG. VIII. ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. THE Scotch, with unconscious absurdity, sometimes talk of tempting Provi- dence. In writing Alls Well that Ends Well, Shakespeare was tempting the Higher Criticism. Ever since the days of Zenodotus in Alexandria the Higher Criticism has revelled in athetising, or marking as spurious, this part of an au- thors work because it is unworthy of him, that part because it is not in his style, a third portion because it is a repe- tition ofsomething he has said elsewhere, and so on, till in Homer there are few lines to which some German or some Alexandrian Greek has not urged objec- tions. To similar exercises of idle inge- nuity has Alls Well that Ends Well been exposed. When Lucian met Homer in VOL. LXXXV.No. 506; 22 the Fortunate Islands, he asked the poet which of the rejected passages were really his own. All and every one of them,~, answered the shade; and Shakespeares ghost might have made as inclusive a re- sponse to critical inquiries. Yet Alls Well is certainly a play full of difficulties and enigmas. It was first printed in the folio of 1623, and very badly printed it was. None of the dramas contains so many passages that appear to be corrupt; none is so rich in the unintelligible; none so open to conjectural emendation. Dr. Hudson, in his Shalcespeare,* guesses, but he only offers his opinion as a guess, that the piece is a very early one amended by the author at a later period. If this be * Boston, 1882. If! 214 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. so, Shakespeare may have worked over his manuscript, making additions and al- terations not very legible, which puzzled the printers. In that case, Shakespeare will for once have blotted a line. The conjecture is to some extent justified, as Dr. Hudson points out, by the extraordi- nary variations in the style. These might lead the Higher Criticism to believe either that the play is the work of very different ages in the development of Shakespeares genius, or that various hands have col- laborated in the comedy. There are long tirades of rhymed couplets, full of euphu- istic antitheses and conceits. There are other speeches in blank verse of Shake- speares usual felicity. These contradic- tions may be explained as the work of different periods, or we may, perhaps, more plausibly imagine that Shakespeare was only beginning to shake off his early bad manner, his rhymes and conceits, and emerging into the purer and more nat- ural air of his genius. It would be plea- sant to believe, if we could, that the speech- es of the Clown were interpolations, mere gag, as players say. The Clown is quite the worst of all Shakespearian clowns. The late Count of Rousillon, Bertrams fa- ther, is said to have enjoyed his frivolities, and for old acquaintance sake the Counts widow endures them. They are coarse and stupid, even beyond the ordinary stupidity of Elizabethan horse-play. We read them with fatigue and surprise, as we occasionally read the foolings of the comic press. The Clown, like the Scotch editor, jocks wi deeficulty. He has his stereotyped buffooneries about horns and the like, and, on the whole, is a pre- posterously tedious jester. His wit is very like that of the New Humor, and mainly consists of gabble. To be sure, we may urge that clowns were probably quite as dull in general as this lover of Isbel. His is a naturalistic portrait; the portrait of Audreys lover is roman- tic, untrue to nature, and therefore a joy forever. As to the suggestion that the Clowns gabble is gag foisted in by KING. Knowst thou not, Bertram, what she has done for me ?Act II., Scene III. hELENA. Pardon, madam; the Count Rousillon cannot be my brother.Act I., Scene III. 216 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. actors, we know that in the opinion of the ancient critics the plays of Aris- tophanes suffered from similar interpola- tions. But in the case of Shakespeare we have, at least in this instance, no his- torical information. If this Clown divert- ed an Elizabethan audience, we can only, like Mr. Pickwick in the matter of Mr. Peter Magnuss friends, envy their readi- ness to be amused. Another feature in the play which tempts the Higher Criticism is the recur- rence of incidents and situations which Shakespeare uses elsewhere. The very distasteful artifice by which Helena final- ly wins Bertram is the stratagem by which Mariana secures Angelo. Used once, by an incidental character, it is used once too often. Employed by a heroine with whom we are to sympathize, the plan is repulsive. But Shakespeare has a habit of repeating himself. Sydney Smith complained to Constable that in every novel of Scotts, from Guy Man- nering to The Fortunes of Nigel, there occurred a Meg Merrilies. She is good, he said, but good too often. In a simi- lar way Shakespeare constantly introduces his heroine disguised as a man, and his ut- terly selfish and heartless jeune premier. There is Claudio in Much Ado about Nothing; there is the flower-like young man of Measure for Measure; there is Bertram here, in Alls Well that Ends Well. It is possible that Shakespeare was much impressed by the stupid pride, lev- ity, and heartlessness of the young no- blesse; he was obliged to make heroes of them, but he shows them for heroes very unheroic. They are almost always un- worthy of the love with which women persecute them. From Venus and Ado- nis onward, Shakespeare treats, and not without liking, the pursuit by the woman of the man. The circumstance occurs frequently enough in life, but it is never agreeable to watch. Every one would prefer the worm in the bud to feed on the damask cheek rather than to see V~nus toute entUre 4 se proje attach~e, as Helena attaches herself to Bertram. A character in many ways so admirable is debased when Helena becomes a crampon. English has no word so ungallant, but the French supply a phrase. In brief, as Dr. Hudson remarks, Alls Well that Ends Well is more apt to inspire an apolo- getic than an enthusiastic tone of mind. One does not take to it heartily, and can hardly admire it without something of an effort. It is difficult to believe in admira- tion which is not spontaneous. As we must k~eep repeating, Shakespeare was human, after all. He wrote nothing in which there were not admirable passages wor- thy of himself. But we, like Ben Jon- son, should love him on this side idol- atry. Criticism is absolutely worthless if it is not sincere. We are not to read Shakespeare as if he were infallible, nor to accept all he did in a spirit of blind and unquestioning faith. At the same time we must remember, in speaking of so divine a genius, what Pope says of others that blamed as great a mind, It is not Homer nods, but we who dream. There have been found critics who be- lieved to the utmost in Alls Well that Ends Well. Hazlitt says: It is one of the most pleasing of our authors comedies.... The character of Helena is one of great sweet- ness and delicacy. She is placed in cir- cumstances of the most critical kind, and has to court her husband both as a virgin and as a wife; yet the most scrupulous delicacy of female modesty is not once violated. Why, female modesty is vio- lated constantly by Helena. Her banter with Parolles appears quite out of keep- ing with delicacy as estimated by the taste of any age. It is impossible to think of Antigone or Isabella or Imogen laugh- ing over Helenas chosen topic with Parolles. She possesses the union of tenderness and strength which Mrs. Jamieson admires in her. She deliber- ately places herself in the lowest and ugliest situation. She thrusts herself on a man who, being, it appears, the Kings ward, cannot refuse any match which the King imposes on him. She is the ti~def, not of love, but of lust. She treats Bertram as Gunnar treats Bryn- hild in the saga. The situation is none of Shakespeares making; he borrowed it from Boccaccio. But, to be frank, the situation is at once hideous and wholly out of keeping with Helenas character as it appears in her conversation with the Countess of IRousillon, Bertrams mother, or in her own matchless solilo- quy. Bertram is leaving Rousillon for the court at Paris. Helena, the daughter of Gerard de Narbon, the physician, has been brought up by the Countess. She K 0 0 0 0 0 Q Q 0 0 22 22 K 0 S 0 0 0 0 0 0 .5 0 0 0 0 ~JJ 0 0 0 ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 219 weeps as Bertram takes farewell weeps like the captive girls in the Iliad, HdiTpolcXov 7rpo~~ce7Lv, r~bq5v lair~v Irij3i ~ She is supposed to lament her father, but it is for Bertrams love that she is lamenting. * In semblance for Patroclus, but each for her own woe. Then, when she is left alone, comes her beautiful soliloquy: Hel. 0, were that all! I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favor in it but Bertrams. I am undone: there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. Twere all one PAROLLES. France is a dog-hole. Act Ii., Scene IlL 220 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our hearts table; heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favor: But now hes gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here? The person who comes here is Pa- rolles. I know him a notorious liar Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtues steely bones Look bleak i the cold wind. So Helena begins to banter with Pa- rolles: Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? We might explain Helenas mirth as a hysterical kind of reaction from her melancholy. But her judgment on Pa- rolles shows that she has all her wits about her, including her sense of honor. She pronounces the worlds judgment on the diverting, the delightful Parolles made that men might breathe them- selves upon him, the worlds flouting- stock. Yet Helena is again herself, in the truth and tenderness and devoted humility of her love, when she confesses her heart to the Countess. Flel. Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high Heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high Heaven, I love your son. My friends were poor, but honest; sos my love: Be not offended ; for it hurts not him That he is loved of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still; thus, Indianlike, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do: but if yourself, Whose aged honor cites a virtuous youth, Did ever, in so true a flame of liking, Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love, 0, then, give pity To her whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose; That seeks not to find that her search implies, But, riddlelike, lives sweetly where she dies! But Helena seems to become another woman when her love hurts him that is loved of me. By dint of healing the King of a fistula (as miraculously as Pas- cals niece was cured of the same com- plaint by the Holy Thorn), she wins per- mission to choose her own husband out of the courtiers. She chooses Bertram, who has never thought of loving her, and he is led, an unwilling victim, to the altar of Hymen. Helena is beautiful, loving, and virtu- ous, and Bertram disdains her because she is not of his own rank. He is hard, ar- rogant, false, a lascivious boy, but our sympathies must be with him, even when he scorns her touching appeal. Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. In brief, he is shamefully and cruelly wronged. His harshness is offensive, but natural, perhaps inevitable. Helena, no doubt, is infinitely too good for him; but he does not want Helena. He is enslaved in the dawn of his youth, and his resolve to go to the wars, and leave his wife at the church door, is in no way unbecoming. Every one would sympathize with the woman had the matrimonial constraint been on the other side. Her position would have been tragical. The position into which Bertram is forced seems both tragical and ludicrous. As for the de- vice by which Helena wins her lord, it is the affair of Mariana over again, and even more distasteful. If it did not of- fend an Elizabethan audience, we may almost think that in this matter of a wo- mans dignity, society, among its changes, has for once rather improved. However, it is not a topic for argument. Had Hel- ena regained her lord in a more generous and seemly way, we would still have to pardon the original manner of the woo- ing. We never can think of her with the pleasure which the mere names of Rosalind, of Imogen, of Portia, bring to the imagination. There is a stain of violeiit self-will on the ermine of her pas- sion. It is better to have loved and lost than to have won thus. And what a tri- umph is hers! what a victory! Dr. John- son, who could not any more than Colonel Newcome approve of Torn Jones, speaks his manly mind very freely about the ad- mired Bt~rtram. The doctor was far from being an infallible, but he was a very sin- cere critic. If he did not like a thing, he said so, whatever weight of authority might be on the other side. He had none of the aesthetic affectations, the artistic hypocrisies, which Miss Repplier lately CLowN. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught.Aet ii, Scene 11. 4, /~/ -J 4:~ K 222 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. treated of so divertingly in her Points of View. The doctor did not admire Gray nor Milton nor Tout Jones, and he said so with a will. As to Bertram, the sage remarks, I cannot reconcile my heart to hima man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helena as a coward (here the doctor is too severe, the King could marry his ward as he pleased), and leaves her as a prof- ligate; when she is dead by his unkind- ness, sneaks home to another marriage; is accused by a woman he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dis- missed to happiness. It is not correct to say that Bertram leaves Helena as a profligate. Nothing in his life becomes him like the leaving her. His intrigue with Diana may be re- garded with the lenient eye which morali- ty keeps on the scrapes of soldiers. Tricks he hath in him which gentlemen have. But his lying about Diana She is im- pudent, my lord is the basest kind of falsehood conceivable. Thus the famil- iar huddled-up denouement of the stage is, in this instance, less plausible and in- teresting than usual. The truth about all this matter is that Shakespeare had laid hold of a story whose characters could not be made sympatheticBoccac- cios tale of Giletta di Nerbona, English- ed in 1566 by William Paynter in The Palace of Pleasure. The story is fol- lowed more closely than usual; but the Countess, the Clown, the old Lord Lafeu, and Parolles are Shakespeares own. It is Parolles who gives life and enter- tainment to the piece. Shakespeare, in his character, makes a criticism of cow- ardice in one of its many aspects. Pa- rolles is cowardly neither like Eachan in The Fair Maid of Perth, nor like Morris in Rob Roy, nor like Falstaff, who is only a coward upon instinct, and for the humor of it. Parolles is one of the men whom a love of show and braggadocio leads into situations for which they have no stomach nor relish. It seems a sim- ple thing for a lily-livered knave not to thrust himself into camps when no ne- cessity compels. It is easy to understand, also, how a mans temper may carry him where his heart will not support him. Thus the temper of Eachan is high and proud, but, alas, lie has drunk the milk of the white doe, and may not endure in moments of danger. His cowardice is tragic; that of the craven Morris, in Rob Roy, is sordid; but the poltroonery of Parolles, as of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, is purely humorous and droll. He has a burlesque passion for pretence, and for pushing himself into notice as a Bobadil; indeed, Bobadil may have been his mod- el. These military humors, as in Pistol and the Miles Gloriosus, are an old in- heritance of the stage. Parolles wins on the inexperience of Bertram, though he is detected by the instinct of Helena and the sagacity of Lafeu. But it seems that he might have escaped through the test of the wars without absolute discredit if he had not been of so touchy a temper and delicate honor that he must needs recover the lost drum. A drum is not like a shield. No Spartan mother says with it or upon it. But Parolles must rescue his drum or die of very shame. His con- versations with Lafeu, all the insults he takes with a Good, very good; it is so, then.-Good, very good; let it be conceal- ed awhile, are in the haughty vein of ancient Pistol. Delicious is his refer- ence for a testimonial: Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrousa word, good metals. You shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and ob- serve his reports for me. Even Lafeu took him, for two ordi- naries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the ban- nerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. Poor Parolles has only le courage de lescalier, of the stairs which he is kicked down. Ill beat him, an if I could but meet him again. Hes a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordships entertainment. In an- other sense he is everybodys entertain- ment, with his melancholy murmur in the midst of the triumphant cavalcade. Lose our drum! well. 0, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum ! It is to be recovered; but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or hic jacet I A peer- age or Westminster Abbey. The fan- tasy of the drum is rather thrust on Pa- rolles by sad circumstances: They begin ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 223 to smoke me (an early use of the old slang) ; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy, but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. Is it possible, the First Lord asks, in their ambuscade for Parolles, he should know what he is, and be that he is? This, indeed, is a constant puzzle where all hypocrites of the sword or of the gown are concerned. Is it what possible that Tartuffe should kijow he is, and be that he is? The enig ENTRANCE OF FLORENTINE AR~Y.Ac~ IlL, Scene 1K 224 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ma is insoluble; but Parolles, having among all his vices a sense of humor, knows what he is very well. This Pa- rolles was an accomplished knave, and could forswear himself in German or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, as well as in his native speech, which we may take to be the Gascon. The scene of the gibberish - speaking mercenaries who arrest him has all the fun of the Turkish in Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. These scenes go back beyond the Cartha- ginian of Terence to the jargon of the Persian envoy in Aristophanes, and they never fail to entertain an audience. The drollery of Parolless inimitable revela- tions exceeds even Lucios unconscious criticisms of the old Duke of dark cor- ners, in Measure for Measure. Listen- ers never heard worse of themselves than do the captors of the brazen Parolles. Even in his most abject cowardice he is still the braggart. My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i the stocks, or anywhere, so I may live. It is the very prayer of Mtecenas in that strange poem where he begs nature to grant him life at any expense of misery or disease. In the same spirit, after all his disgrace, which, as he offers to betray his com- rades, is as deep as it can well be, he has the heart to exclaim: Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, Twould burst at this. Captain Ill be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall: simply the thing I am Shall make me live.. Theres place, and means, for every man alive. What place and means Parolles found is not evident; but he might well change places with good Monsieur Lavache, the Clown, who, probably, would make a better warrior than Parolles. Parolles, though muddied in fortunes mood, and smelling somewhat strong of her strong displeasure, sweetens the play with the absurdities of his humors. This not un- necessary service is also done by the vir- tues of the King, weary of suffering much of many physicians, determined to bear a remediless malady; and by the excellen- cies of the Countess. Contrary to the wont of countesses and of mothers, she has an eye for her sons defects, and a chaj~ming tenderness for Helenas affec- tion. Theres nothing here that is too good for him, But only she; and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon And call her hourly, mistress. He was my son; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. The mood of the Countess is the more rare and admirable when we remember the gulf which then divided the nobly born from the unborn mob of common humanity. Shakespeare gives social promotion to his heroine, a gift which Scott and Miss Austen have been blamed for denying. But the prize is not worth the winning, least of all when coupled with Bertram, and a modern dramatist would probably have made Helena marry some young physician of Montpellier or Salerno. We can only faintly trust the larger hope that Bertram, who in the wars did honorable service, may re- pent a little, and not make Helena too much of an Enid or a Patient Griselda. To that fate she almost seems to have been born. The date of Alls Well that Ends Well is obscure enough. In the list given by Meres, in Palladis Tamia (1598), there is a play styled Loves Labor Won. It has been conjectured that this by no means in- appropriate name is an alternative title of Alls Well that Ends Well. It may have been intended as a pendant to Loves La- bor Lost, Which was published in 1598, though probably written earlier. We might conjecture that Alls Well was be- gun early, was laid aside, and was hastily bdcl~ later, in some pressing need of a new piece. The early style seems very early, the late style particularly late, which goes against the idea that the play is an example of style in the process of change and development. But all is mere conjecture. The Higher Criticism is so rich in such shots that here and there one must land in the clout. Unluckily we cannot say which of the innumerable shafts of guessing is so fortunate. No one but Hazlitt, perhaps, will place the drama among the most delightful of Shakespeares comedies. Being his, it has gifts of poetry, wisdom, humor, tender- ness, and truth; but most of his immortal children are far more richly dowered; to most we return more frequently and with heartier pleasure. For if our loyalty to womanhood is wounded by the humil- iations to which Mariana stoops, no less ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 227 CLOWN. Foli! prithee, stand away.Act J7, Scene II. is it wounded by the self-sought sorrows of Helena. There is one word of old Lafeus which makes Shakespeares world much akin to ours, and which might stand as a motto for modern theological romances: They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar, things supernatural and causeless. Alas! it is so, we have our philosophi- cal persons!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich Aldrich, Thomas Bailey Two Moods. 228-229

THE WORLD OF CIIANCE.* BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. XXL WITH an impatience whose intensity he began to feel as soon as he per- mitted himself to indulge it, Ray hurried across to the line of the elevated road. Now he perceived how intolerable it would be to have staid to dinner with the Brandreths. He did not resent the failure of Mr. Brandreth to tell his wife that he had already asked him when she asked him again; he did not even care to know what his reasons or exigencies were; the second invitation had been a chance to get away. From time to time while Mr. Brandreth was showing him the baby, and then while Mrs. Chapley was setting her mind at rest about her husband by her researches into the phi- losophy and character of Hughes, he had superficially forgotten that the readers opinions of his story were in, while his nether thought writhed in anguish around the question of what their opinions were. When at moments this fully penetrated his consciousness, it was like a sort of vertigo, and he was light-headed with it now as he walked, or almost ran, away from Mr. Brandreths door. He meant to see Miss Hughes, and beg for a sight of the criticisms; perhaps she might say something that would save him from the worst, if they were very bad. He ima- gined a perfect interview, in which he met no one but her. But it was Mrs. Denton who stood at the head of the stairs to receive him when the door promptly opened to his ring; she explained that her husband had put the lock in order since she had last admitted him. Ray managed to say that he wished merely to see her sister for a moment, and why, and she said that Peace had gone out, but would be at home again very soon. She said her father would be glad to have him sit down with him till Peace came back. Ray submitted. He found the old man coughing beside the front window, that looked out on the lines of the railroad, and the ugly avenue beneath. Hughes knew him at once, and called to him: Well, young man! I am glad to see you! How do you do? He held out his hand when he was seated, and when Ray had shaken it, he motioned with it to the vacant chair on the other side of the window. I hope you are well, sir? said Ray. Im getting the better of this nasty cough gradually, and I pick up a little new strength every day. Yes, Im doing very well. For the present I have to keep housed, and thats tiresome. But it gives me time for a bit of writing that I have in hand; Im putting together the impressions that this civilization of yours makes on me, in a little book that I call The World Revisited. Ray did not see exactly why Hughes should say his civilization, as if he had invented it; but he did not disclaim it; and Hughes went on without interruption from him. I hope to get my old friend Ohapley to bring it out for me, if I can reconcile him to its radical opinions. Hes timid, Chapley is; and my books rather bold. Rays thought darted instantly to his own book, and ran it over in every part, seeking whether there might be some- thing in it that was too bold for a timid publisher, or a timid publishers profes- sional readers. He was aware of old Hughes monologuing on with the sat- isfaction of an author who speaks of his work to a listener he has at his mercy. My book is a criticism of modern life in all its aspects, though necessarily, as the field is so vast, I can touch on some only in the most cursory fashion. For instance, take this whole architectural nightmare that we call a city. I hold that the average tasteless man has no right to realize his ideas of a house in the presence of a great multitude of his fel- low-beings. It is an indecent exposure of his mind, and should not be permitted. All these structural forms about us, which with scarcely an exception are ugly and senseless, I regard as so many immoral- ities, as deliriums, as imbecilities, which a civilized state would not permit, and I say so in my book. The city should build the city, and provide every denizen with a fit and beautiful habitation to work in and rest in. * Begun in March number, 1892. VOL. LXXXV.No. 50623

William Dean Howells Howells, William Dean The World Of Chance 229-240

THE WORLD OF CIIANCE.* BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. XXL WITH an impatience whose intensity he began to feel as soon as he per- mitted himself to indulge it, Ray hurried across to the line of the elevated road. Now he perceived how intolerable it would be to have staid to dinner with the Brandreths. He did not resent the failure of Mr. Brandreth to tell his wife that he had already asked him when she asked him again; he did not even care to know what his reasons or exigencies were; the second invitation had been a chance to get away. From time to time while Mr. Brandreth was showing him the baby, and then while Mrs. Chapley was setting her mind at rest about her husband by her researches into the phi- losophy and character of Hughes, he had superficially forgotten that the readers opinions of his story were in, while his nether thought writhed in anguish around the question of what their opinions were. When at moments this fully penetrated his consciousness, it was like a sort of vertigo, and he was light-headed with it now as he walked, or almost ran, away from Mr. Brandreths door. He meant to see Miss Hughes, and beg for a sight of the criticisms; perhaps she might say something that would save him from the worst, if they were very bad. He ima- gined a perfect interview, in which he met no one but her. But it was Mrs. Denton who stood at the head of the stairs to receive him when the door promptly opened to his ring; she explained that her husband had put the lock in order since she had last admitted him. Ray managed to say that he wished merely to see her sister for a moment, and why, and she said that Peace had gone out, but would be at home again very soon. She said her father would be glad to have him sit down with him till Peace came back. Ray submitted. He found the old man coughing beside the front window, that looked out on the lines of the railroad, and the ugly avenue beneath. Hughes knew him at once, and called to him: Well, young man! I am glad to see you! How do you do? He held out his hand when he was seated, and when Ray had shaken it, he motioned with it to the vacant chair on the other side of the window. I hope you are well, sir? said Ray. Im getting the better of this nasty cough gradually, and I pick up a little new strength every day. Yes, Im doing very well. For the present I have to keep housed, and thats tiresome. But it gives me time for a bit of writing that I have in hand; Im putting together the impressions that this civilization of yours makes on me, in a little book that I call The World Revisited. Ray did not see exactly why Hughes should say his civilization, as if he had invented it; but he did not disclaim it; and Hughes went on without interruption from him. I hope to get my old friend Ohapley to bring it out for me, if I can reconcile him to its radical opinions. Hes timid, Chapley is; and my books rather bold. Rays thought darted instantly to his own book, and ran it over in every part, seeking whether there might be some- thing in it that was too bold for a timid publisher, or a timid publishers profes- sional readers. He was aware of old Hughes monologuing on with the sat- isfaction of an author who speaks of his work to a listener he has at his mercy. My book is a criticism of modern life in all its aspects, though necessarily, as the field is so vast, I can touch on some only in the most cursory fashion. For instance, take this whole architectural nightmare that we call a city. I hold that the average tasteless man has no right to realize his ideas of a house in the presence of a great multitude of his fel- low-beings. It is an indecent exposure of his mind, and should not be permitted. All these structural forms about us, which with scarcely an exception are ugly and senseless, I regard as so many immoral- ities, as deliriums, as imbecilities, which a civilized state would not permit, and I say so in my book. The city should build the city, and provide every denizen with a fit and beautiful habitation to work in and rest in. * Begun in March number, 1892. VOL. LXXXV.No. 50623 230 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Im afraid, said Ray, tearing his mind from his book to put it on this proposition, that such an idea might be found rather startling. How, startling? Why, startling? Hughes demanded. I dont know. Wouldnt it infringe upon private rights? Wouldnt it be a little tyrannical ? What private rights has a man in the outside of his house ? Hughes re- torted. The interior might be left to his ignorance and vulgarity. But the outside of my house is not for me! Its for others! The publk~ sees it ten times where I see it once. If I make it brutal and stupid, I am the tyrant, I am the oppressor I, the individual! Besides, when the sovereign people is really lord of itself, it can and will do no man wrong. Ray had his misgivings, but he would not urge them, because it was a gnawing misery to think of anything but his story, and he let Hughes break the silence that he let follow. And so, the old man said presently, as if speaking of his own book had re- minded him of Rays, you have written a novel, young man. And what is your justification for writing a novel at a time like this, when we are all trembling on the verge of a social cataclysm ? Justification? Ray faltered. Yes. How does it justify itself? How does it serve God and help man? Does it dabble with the passion of love between a girl and boy as if that were the chief concern of men and women? Or does it touch some of the real concerns of life some of the problems pressing on to their solution, and needing the prayerful at- tention of every human creature? It isnt merely a love - story, said Ray, glad to get to it, on any terms, though it is a love-story. But Ive ventured to employ a sort of psycholo- gical motive. What sort? Wellhypnotism. A mere toy, that Poe and Hawthorne played with in the old mesmerist days, and I dont know how many others. I dont play with it as they did, ex- actly, said Ray. Oh, Ive no doubt you employ it to as new effect as the scientifics who are playing with it again. But how can you live in this camp of embattled forces, where luxury and misery are armed against each other, and every lover of his kind should give heart and brain to the solution of the riddle that is madden- ing brother against brother,how can you live on here and be content with the artistic study of hysteria? The strong words of the old man, which fell tingling with emotion, had no mean- ing for the soul of youth in Ray; he valued them msthetically, but he could not make personal application of them. He had a kind of amusement in answer- ing: Well, Im not quite so bad as you think, Mr. Hughes. I wrote my story several years ago. I dont suppose I could do anything of the kind, now. Hughess mouth seemed stopped for the moment by this excuse. He sat glaring at Rays bright, handsome face through his overhanging, shaggy eyebrows, and seemed waiting to gather strength for an- other onset, when his daughter Peace came silently into the room behind Ray. Her father did not give her time to greet their visitor. Well he called out with a voice of stormy pathos, how di dyon leave that poor woman? She is dead, answered the girl. Good ! said Hughes. So far, so good. Who is living? There are several children. The peo- ple in the house are taking care of them. Of course! There, young man, said Hughes, is a psychological problem bet- ter worth your study than the phenomena of hypnotism: the ability of poverty to provide for want out of its very destitu- tion. The miracle of the loaves and fishes is wrought here every day in the great tenement-houses. Those who have nothing for themselves can still find something for others. The direst want may be trusted to share its crust with those who have not a crust; and still something remains, as if Christ had blessed the bread and broken it among the fam- ishing. Dont you think that an inter- esting and romantic fact, a mystery mei~- iting the attention of literary art? It did strike Ray as a good notion; something might be done with it, say in a Christmas story, if you could get hold of a tenement-house incident of that kind, and keep it from becoming allegorical in the working out. This went through Rays mind as he stood thinking also how he should ask the girl for his manuscript and the criti THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 231 cisms on it without seeming foolishly eager. Her fathers formidable interven- tion had dispensed him from the usual greetings, and he could only say, Oh! Miss Hughes, Mr. Brandreth told me I might come and get my story of youA Modern Romeoand the readers opin- ions. II thought I should like to look them over; andand I havent had time to copy them yet, she answered. Mr. Brandreth wished you to see them; but we keep the readers anonymous, and he thought I had better show them to you all in my handwrit- ing. I shouldnt know the writers. He said I could see them as they are. Well, then, I will go and get them for you, she answered. She left him a mo- ment, and he remained with her father un- molested. The old man sat staring out on the avenue, with his head black against its gathering lights. She gave him the packet she brought back with her, and then she followed him out of the apartment upon the landing, after he had made his acknowledgments and adieux. I thought, she said, timidly, you would like to know that I had given your dollar for these poor children. Was that right? Rays head was so full of his story that he answered vaguely, My dollar? Then he remembered. Oh! Oh yes! It was rightquite right! Im glad you did it. Miss Hughes! Excuse me; but would you mind telling me whether you have happened to look at the story your- self? Shehesitated,and then answered: Yes. Ive read it. Oh, then, he bubbled out, knowing that he was wrong and foolish, but help- less to refrain, before I read those things, wont you tell me I should care more I should like so much to know what you I suppose Ive no right to ask ! He tried to make some show of decency about the matter, but in fact he had the heart to ask a dying man his opinion, in that literary passion which spares nothing, and is as protean as love itself in its dis- guises. I suppose, she answered, that I had no right to read it; I wnsgt asked to do it. Oh, yes, you had. Im very glad you did. The opinions about it were so differ- ent that I couldnt help looking at it, and thenI kept on, she said. Were they so very different ? he ask- ed, trembling with his authors sensitive- ness, while the implication of praise in her confession worked like a frenzied hope in his brain. And you kept on? Then it interested you? She did not answer his question, but said: None of them thought just alike about it. But youll see them No, no! Tell me what you thought of it yourself! Was there some part that seemed better than the rest? She hesitated. No, I would rather not say. I oughtnt to have told you I had read it. You didnt like it! Yes; I did like parts of it. But I mustnt say any more. But which parts ? he pleaded. Which parts ? You mustnt ask me. The readers opinions I dont care for them. I care for your opinion, sai~1 Ray, perversely. What did you mean by their being all different? Of course, Im absurd! But you dont know how much depends upon this book. It isnt that its the only book I expect ever to write; but if it should be rejected! Ive had to wait a long while already; and then to have to go peddling it round among the other publishers! Do you think its hopeless- ly bad, or could I make it over? What did you dislike in it? Didnt you approve of the hypnotism? That was the only thing I could think of to bring about the climax. And did it seem too melodra- matic? Romeo and Juliet is melodra- matic! I hope you wont think Im usually so nervous about my work, he went on, wondering that he should be giving himself away so freely, when lie was really so reserved. Ive been a long time writing the story; and Ive worked over it and worked over it, till Ive quite lost the sense of it. I dont believe I can make head or tail of those opinions. Thats the reason why I wanted you to tell me what you thought of it yourself. But I have no right to do that. It would be interfering with other peoples work. It wouldnt be fair towards Mr. Brandreth; the readers suggestions ought to come to you unprejudiced, she pleaded. I see. I didnt see that before. And 232 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. youre quite right, and I beg your pardon. Good-night ! He put his manuscript on the seat in the elevated train, and partly sat upon it, that he might not forget it when he left the car. But as he read the professional opinions of it he wished the thing could lose him, and never find him again. No other novel, he thought, could ever have had such a variety of certain faults, to- gether with the vague merit which each of its critics seemed to feel in greater measure or less. Their work, he had to own, had been faithfully done; he had not even the poor consolation of accusing them of a neglect of duty. They had each read his story, and they spoke of it with intelligence in a way, if not every way. Each condemned it on a different ground, but as it stood they all joined in condemning it; and they did not so much contradict one another as dwell on differ- ent defects, so that together they covered the whole field with their censure. One of them reproached it for its crude real- ism, and the sort o4~ helpless fidelity to provincial conditions which seemed to come from the authors ignorance of any- thing different. Another blamed the youthful romanticism of its dealings with passion. A third pointed out the gross improbability of the plot in our modern circumstance. A fourth objected to the employment of hypnotism as a clumsy piece of machinery, and an attempt to reach the public interest through a pre- vailing fad. A fifth touched upon the obvious imitation of Hawthorne in the psychical analyses. A sixth accused the author of having adopted Thackerays manner without Thackerays material. Ray resented with a keen sense of per- sonal affront these criticisms in several- ty, but their combined effect was utter humiliation, though they were less true taken together than they were separately. At the bottom of his sore and angry heart he could not deny their truth, and yet he knew that there was something in his book which none of them had taken account of, and that this was its life, which had come out of his own. He was aware of all those crude and awk- ward and affected things, but he believed there was something too that went with them, and that had not been in fiction be- fore. It was this something which he hoped that girl had felt in his story; and which he was trying to get her to own to him before he looked at the opinions. They confounded and distracted him be- yond his foreboding, even, and it was an added anguish to keep wondering, as lie did all night, whether she had really found anything more in the novel than his critics had. As he turned from side to side, and beat his pillow into this shape and that, he reconstructed the story after one critics suggestion, and then after anothers; but the material only grew more defiant and impossible; if it could not keep the shape it had, it would take no other. That was plain; and the only thing to be done was to throw it away, and write something else; for it was not reasonable to suppose that Mr. Brandreth would think of bringing the book out in the teeth of all these adverse critics. But now he had no heart to think of anything else, although he was always thinking of something else while there was hope of getting this published. His career as an author was at an end; he must look about for some sort of newspaper work; he ought to be very glad if he could get something to do as a space man. XXIL He rose, after a late nap following his night-long vigils, with despair in his soul. He believed it was despair, and so it was, to all intents and purposes. But when he had bathed he seemed to have washed a little of his despair away; when he h~d dressed, he felt hungry, and he ate his breakfast with rather more than his usual appetite. The reaction was merely physical, and his gloom settled round him again when he went back to his attic, and saw his manuscript and those deadly opinions. He had not the heart to go out anywhere, and he cowered alone in his room. If he could only get the light of some other mind on the facts he might grappl& with them, but without this he was limp and helpless. Now he knew, in spite of all his pretences to the contrary, in spite of the warnings and cautions he had given him- self, that he had not only hoped, but had expected, that his story would be found good enough to publish. Yet none of these readers, even those who found some meritorious traits in it, had apparently dreamed of recommending it for pub- lication. It was no wonder that Miss Hughes had been so unwilling to tell THE WORLD him what she thought of it; that she had urged him so strongly to read the opin- ions first. What a fool she must have thought him! There was no one else he could appeal to, unless it was old Kane. He did not know where Kane lived, even if he could have gathered the courage to go to him in his extremity; and he bet himself that Kane would not repeat his last sundays visit. The time for any reasonable hope of losing passed, and then to his great joy he lost. There came a hesitating step outside his door, as if some one were in doubt where to knock, and then a tap at it. Ray flung it open, and at sight of Kane, the tears came into his eyes, and he could not speak. Why, my dear friend I, cried Kane, what is the matter? Ray kept silent till he could say, cold- ly: Nothing. Its all over. Kane stepped into the room, and took off his hat. If you havent been re- jected by the object of your affections, you have had the manuscript of your novel declined. These are the only things that really bring annihilation. I think the second is worse. A man is never so absolutely and solely in love with one woman but he knows some other who is potentially lovable; that is the wise pro- vision of Nature. But while a man has a manuscript at a publishers, it is the only manuscript in the world. You can readily work out the comparison. I hope you have merely been disappointed in love, my dear boy. Ray smiled ruefully. Im afraid its worse. Then Chapley & Co. have declined your novel definitively? Not in set terms; or not yet. But their readers have all reported against it, and Ive passed the night in reading their opinions. Ive got them by heart. Would you like to hear me repeat them? he de- manded, with a fierce self-scorn. Kane looked at him compassionately. Heaven forbid! I could repeat them, I dare say, as accurately as you; the opin- ions of readers do not vary much, and I have had many novels declined. Have you? Ray faltered with com- punction for his arrogation of all such suffering to himself. Yes. That was one reason why I be- gan to write Hard Sayings. But if you will let me offer you another leaf from 233 OF CHANCE. my experience, I will suggest that there are many chances for reprieve and even pardon after the readers have condemned your novel. I once had a novel accept- edthe only novel I ever had accepted after all the publishers readers had pro- nounced against it. Had you ? Ray came tremulously back at him. Yes, sighed Kane. That is why Chapley is so fond of me; he has forgiven me a deadly injury. He paused to let his words carry Ray down again, and then he asked, with a nod toward the bed where the young fellow had flung his manuscript and the readers opinions, Might I? Oh, certainly, said Ray from his depths; and Kane took up the opinions and began to run them over. Yes, they have a strangely familiar effect; they are like echoes from my own past. He laid them down again. Do you think they are right? Yes. Perfectly! That is Oh! That is. There is hope, I see. How, hope? Ray retorted. Does my differing with them make any differ- ence as to the outcome? For the book, no, perhaps; for you, yes, decidedly. It makes all the differ- ence between being stunned and being killed. It is not pleasant to be stunned, but it is not for such a long time as being killed. What is your story about? It astonished Ray himself to find how much this question revived his faith aDd courage. His undying interest in the thing by and for itself, as indestructible as a mothers love, revived, and he gave Kane the outline of his novel. Then he filled this in, and he did not stop till he had read some of the best passages. He suddenly tossed the manuscript from him. What a fool I am! Kane gave his soft, thick laugh, shut- ting his eyes, and showing his small white teeth, still beautifully sound. Oh, no! Oh, no! I have read worse things than that! I have written worse than that. Come, come! Here is nothing to beat the breast for. I doubt if Chap- leys will take it, in defiance of their read- ers; their experience with me has rendered that very improbable. But they are not the only publishers in New York, or Phil- adelphia even; Im told they have very eager ones in Chicago. Why shouldnt the roman psychologique, if thats the 234 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. next thing as Mr. Brandreth believes, get on its legs at Chicago, and walk East? I wonder, Ray said, rising aimless- ly from his chair, whether it would do to call on Mr. Brandreth to-day? This suspense Do you know whether he is very religious? How should I know such a thing of my fellow-man in New York? I dont know it even of myself. At times I am very religious, and at times, not. But Mr. Brandreth is rather a formal little man, and a business interview on Sunday with an agonized author might not seem exactly decorous to him. I got the impression he wasnt very stiff. But it wouldnt do, said Ray, be- fore Kane had rounded his neat period. What an ass I am We are all asses, Kane sighed. It is the great bond of human brotherhood. When did you get these verdicts? Oh, Mr. Brandreth told me Miss Hughes had taken them home with her yesterday, and I couldnt rest till I had his leave to go and get them of her. Exactly. If we know there is possi- ble unhappiness in store for us, we dont wait for it; we make haste and look it up, and embrace it. And how did my dear old friend Hughes, if you saw him, impress you this time? I saw him, and I still prefer him to his friends, said Ray. Naturally. There are not many peo- ple, even in a planet so overpeopled as tkis, who are the peers of David Hughes. He goes far to make me respect my spe- cies. Of course he is ridiculous. A man so hopeful as Hughes is the reductio ad absurdum of the human proposition. How can there reasonably be hope in a world where poverty and death are? To be sure, Hughes proposes to eliminate poverty and explain death. You know he thinks he really believes, I supposethat if he could once get his millennium going, and everybody so blessed in this life that the absolute knowledge of heavenly condi- tions in another would not tempt us to suicide, then the terror and the mystery of death would be taken away, and the race would be trusted with its beneficent meaning. Its rather a pretty notion. Ray, with his narrow experience, would not have been able to grasp it fully. Now he broke out without the least relevancy to it, I wonder how it would do to re- model my story so far as to transfer the scene to New York? It might be more popular. The criticism that one of those readers had made on the helplessness of his fidelity to simple rustic conditions had suddenly begun to gall him afresh. I beg your pardon. I didnt notice what you were saying! I cant get my mind off that miserable thing ! Kane laughed. Oh, dont apologize. I know how it is. Perhaps a change of scene would be good; its often advised, you know. He laughed again, and Ray with him, ruefully, and now he rose. Oh, must you go? Ray entreated. Yes. You are best alone; when we are in pain we are alone, anyway. If misery loves company, company certain- ly does not love misery. I can stand my own troubles, but not other peoples. Good-by! We will meet again when you are happier. XXIII. Mr. Brandreth tried hard to escape from the logic of his readers opinions. In the light of his friendly optimism they took almost a favorable cast. He argued with Ray that there was nothing absolutely damnatory in those verdicts, that they all more or less tacitly embodied a recom- mendation to mercy. So far his personal kindliness carried him, but beyond this point business put up her barrier. He did not propose to take the book in spite of his readers; he said he would see; and after having seen for a week longer, he returned the MS. with a letter assuring Ray of his regret, and saying that if he could modify the story according to the suggestions of their readers, Chapley & Co. would be pleased to examine it again. Ray had really expected some such an- swer as this, though he hoped against reason for something different. In view of it he had spent the week mentally re- casting the story in this form and in that; sometimes it yielded to his efforts, in one way or another; when the manuscript came into his hands again, he saw that it was immutably fixed in the terms lie had given it, and that it must remain essen- tially what it was, in spite of any external travesty. He offered Mr. Brandreth his thanks and excuses for not trying to make any change in it until he had first offered it as it was to other publishers. He asked if it would shut him out of Chapley & Co.s grace if he were refused elsewhere, THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 235 and received an answer of the most flat- tering cordiality to the effect that their desire to see the work in another shape was quite unconditioned. Mr. Brandreth seemed to have put a great deal of heart in this answer; it was most affectionately expressed; it closed with the wish that he might soon see Ray at his house again. Ray could not have believed, but for the experience which came to him, that there could be so many reasons for de- clining to publish any one book as the different publishers now gave him. For the most part they deprecated the notion of even looking at it. The book trade had never been so prostrate before; events of the most unexpected nature had con- spired to reduce it to a really desperate condition. The unsettled state of Europe had a good deal to do with it; the suc- cession of bad seasons at the West af- fected it most distinctly. The approach of a Presidential year was unfavorable to this sensitive traffic. Above all, the suspense created by the lingering and doubtful fate of the international copy- right bill was playing havoc with it; peo- ple did not know what course to take; it was impossible to plan any kind of en- terprise, or to risk any sort of project. Men who had been quite buoyant in re- gard to the bill seemed carried down to the lowest level of doubt as to its fate by the fact that Ray had a novel to offer them; they could see no hope for Ameri- can fiction, if that English trash was des- tined to flood the market indefinitely. They sympathized with him, but they said they were all in the same boat, and that the only thing was to bring all the press- ure each could to bear upon Congress. The sum of their counsel and condolence came to the effect in Rays mind that his best hope was to get A Modern Romeo printed by Congress as a Public Docu- ment and franked by the Senators and Representatives to their constituents. He found a melancholy amusement in noting the change in the mood of those who were used to meet him cheerfully and carelessly as the correspondent of a news- paper, and now found themselves con- fronted with an author, and felt his man- uscript at their throats. Some tried to jok!e; some became helplessly serious; some sought to temporize. Those whose circumstances and en- gagements forbade them even to look at his novel were the easiest to bear with. They did not question the quality or char- acter of his work; they had no doubt of its excellence, and they had perfect faith in its success; but simply their hands were so full they could not touch it. The other sort, when they consented to exam- ine the story, kept it so long that Ray could not help forming false hopes of the outcome; or else they returned it with a precipitation that mortified his pride, and made him sceptical of their having look- ed into it at all. He did not experience unconditional rejection everywhere. In some cases the readers proposed radical and impossible changes, as Chapley & Co.s readers had done. In one instance they so far recommended it that the pub- lisher was willing to lend his imprint and manage the book for the per cent. usually paid to authors, if Ray would meet all the expenses. There was an enthusiast who even went so far as to propose that he would publish it if Ray would pay the cost of the electrotype plates. He ap- peared to think this a handsome offer, and Ray in fact found it so much better than nothing that he went into some seri- ous estimates upon it. He called in the help of old Kane, who was an expert in the matter of electrotyping, and was able from his sad experience to give him the exact figures. They found that A New Romeo would make some four hundred and thirty or forty pages, and that at the lowest price the plates would cost more than three hundred dollars. The figure made Ray gasp; the mere thought of it impoverished him. His expenses had al- ready eaten a hundred dollars into his savings beyond the five dollars a week he had from the Midland Echo for his letters. If he paid out this sum for his plates, he should now have some ninety dollars left. But then, said Kane, arching his eyebrows, the trifling sum of three hun- dred dollars, risked upon so safe a venture as A New Ro~neo, will probably result in riches beyond the dreams of avarice. Yes; or it may result in total loss, Ray returned. It is a risk. But what was it you have been asking all these other people to do? One of them turns and asks you to share the risk with him; he asks you to risk less than half on a book that you have written yourself, and he will risk the other half. What just ground have you for refusing his generous offer? 236 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. It isnt my business to publish books; its my business to write them, said Ray, coldly. Ah-h-h! Very true! That is a solid position. Then all you have to do to make it quite impregnable is to write such books that other men will be eager to take all the risks of publishing them. It appears that in the present case you omitted to do that. Kane watched Rays face with whimsical enjoyment. I was afraid you were putting your reluctance upon the moral ground, and that you were refusing to bet on your book because you thought it wrong to bet. Im afraid, said Ray, dejectedly, that the moral question didnt enter with me. If people thought it wrong to make bets of that kind, it seems to me that all business would come to a standstill. Sli ! said Kane, putting his finger to his lip, and glancing round with bur- lesque alarm. This is open incivism. It is accusing the whole frame-work of commercial civilization. Go on; its de- lightful to hear you; but dont let any one overhear you.~~ I dont know what you mean, said Ray, with sullen resentment, about in- civism. Im saying what everybody knows. Ah! But what everybody knows is just what nobody says. If people said what they knew, society would tumble down like a house of cards. Ray was silent, far withdrawn from these generalities into his personal ques- tion. Kane asked compassionately, Then you think you cant venture risk chance it? Excuse me! I was trying to find a euphemism for the action, but there seems none! No; I darent do it! The risk is too great. That seems to be the consensus of the book trade concerning it. Perhaps you are right. Would you mind, asked Kane with all his sweet politeness, let- ting me take your manuscript home, and go over it carefully? Let you ! Ray began in a rapture of gratitude, but Kane stopped him. No, no! Dont expect anything! Dont form any hopes. Simply suppose me to be reading it as a lover of high-class fic- tion, with no ulterior view whatever. I am really the feeblest of conies, and I have not even the poor advantage of hay- ing my habitation in the rocks. Good- by! Good-day! Dont try to stop me with civilities! Heaven knows how far my noble purpose will hold if it is weak- ened by any manner of delay. Ray lived a day longer in the flimsiest air-castle that ever the vagrant winds blew through. In the evening Kane came back with his story. Well, my dear young friend, you have certainly produbed the despair of criticism in this extraordinary fiction of yours. I dont wonder all the readers have been of so many minds about it. I only wonder that any one man could be of any one mind about it long enough to get himself down on paper. In some respects it is the very worst thing I ever saw, and yet and yetit interested me, it held me to the end. I will make a confession; I will tell you the truth. I took the thing home hoping to find justification in it for approaching a poor friend of mine who is in the publishing line, and making him believe that his interest lay in publishing it. But I could not bring myself to so simple an act of bad faith. I found I should have to say to my friend, Here is a novel which might make your everlast- ing fortune, but most of the chances are against it. There are twenty chances that it will fail to one that it will suc- ceed; just the average of failure and suc- cess in business life. You had better take it. Of course he would not take it, be- cause he could not afford to add a special risk to the general business risk. You see? I see, said Ray, but without the de- light that a case so beautifully reasoned should bring to the logical mind. At the bottom of his heart, though he made such an outward show of fairness and impersonality, he was simply and selfish- ly emotional about his book. He could not enter into the humor of Kanes dram- atization of the case; he tacitly accused him of inconsistency, and possibly of envy and jealousy. It began t& be as if it were Kane alone who was keeping his book from its chance with the public. This conception, which certainly appeared perverse to Ray at times, was at others entirely in harmony with one of several theories of the man. He had chilled flay more than once by the cold cynicism of his opinions concerning mankind at large; and now Ray asked himself why Kanes cynicism should not characterize his he- THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 237 havior towards him, too. Such a man would find a delight in studying him in his defeat, and turning his misery into phrases and aphorisms. He was confirmed in his notion of Kanes heartlessness by the strange be- havior of Mr. Brandreth, who sent for his manuscript one morning, asking if he might keep it a few days, and then re- turned it the same day, with what Ray thought an insufficient explanation of the transaction. He proudly suffered a week under its inadequacy, and then he went to Mr. Brandreth, and asked him just what the affair meant; it seemed to him that he had a right to know. Mr. Brandreth laughed in rather a shamefaced way. I may as well make a clean breast of it. As I told you when we first met, Ive been wanting to publish a novel for some time, and although I havent read yours, the plot attracted me, and I thought I would give it another chancethe best chance I could. I want- ed to show it to a friend of yoursI sup- pose I may say friend; at least it was somebody that I thought would be preju- diced more in favor of it than against it; and I had made up my mind that if the person approved of it, I would read it too, and if we agreed about it, I would get Mr. Chapley to risk it. ButI found that the person had read it. And didnt like it? I cant say that, exactly. If it comes to that, said Ray, with a hitter smile, it doesnt matter about the precise terms. He could not speak for a moment; then he swallowed the choking lump in his throat, and offered Brandreth his hand. Thank you, Mr. Brandreth! Im sure youre my friend; and I shant forget your kindness. XXIV. The disappointment which Ray had to suffer would have been bad enough sim- ply as the refusal of his book; with the hope raised in him and then crushed after the first great defeat, the trial was doubly bitter. It was a necessity of his suffer- ing and his temperament to translate it into some sort of literary terms, and he now beguiled his enforced leisure by be- ginning several stories and poems involv- ing his experience. One of the poems he carried so far that he felt the need of an- other eye on it to admire it and confirm him in his good opinion of it; he pretend- VOL. LXXXY.No. 50624 ed that he wanted criticism, but he want- ed praise. He would have liked to sub- mit the poem to Kane, but he could not do this now, though the coldness between them was tacit, and they met as friends when they met. He had a vulgar mo- ment when he thought that it would be a fine revenge if he could make Kane lis- ten to that passage of his poem which described the poets betrayal by a false friend; by the man who held his fate in his hand and coolly turned against him. Kane must feel the sting of self-reproach from this through all the disguises of time and place which wrapped it; but the vul- gar moment passed, and Ray became dis- gusted with that part of his poem, and cut it out. As it remained then, it was the pathetic story of a poet who comes up to some Oriental court with his song, but never gains a hearing, and dies neglected and unknown; he does not even achieve fame after death. Ray did not know why he chose an Oriental setting for his story, but perhaps it was because it removed it farther from the fact, and made it less rec- ognizable. It would certainly lend itself more easily to illustration in that shape, if he could get some magazine to take it. When he decided that he could not show it to Kane, and dismissed a fleeting notion of Mr. Brandreth as impossible, he thought of Miss Hughes. He had in fact thought of her first of all, but he had to feign that he had not. There had lin- gered in his mind a discomfort concern- ing her which he would have removed much sooner, if it had been the only dis- comfort there; mixed with his other trou- bles, his shame for having rudely and even indelicately urged her to speak of his story when he saw her last, did not persist separately or incessantly. He had imagined scenes in which he repaired his error, but he had never really tried to do so. It was now available as a pretext for showing her his poem; he could make it lead on to that; but he did not own any such purpose to himself when he put the poem into his pocket and went to make her his tardy excuses. The Hughes family were still at table when Denton let him into their apart- ment, and old Hughes came himself into the front room where Ray was provision- ally shown, and asked him to join them. My children thought that I was want- ing in the finer hospitalities when you 238 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. were here before, and I forced my supera- bundance of reasons upon you. I forget, sometimes, that no man ever directly per- suaded me, in my eagerness to have peo- ple think as I do. Will you show that you have forgiven me by eating salt with us? There is a little potato to eat it on, Mr. Ray, Mrs. Denton called gayly from the dining-room, and as Ray appeared there, Peace rose and set a plate for him next the old man. In front were the twins in high chairs, one on each side of their father, who from time to time put a knife or fork, or cup and saucer, beyond their reach, and left them to drub the table with nothing more offensive than their little soft fists. There were not only potatoes, but some hot biscuits too, and there was tea. Ray had often sat down to no better meal at his fathers table, and he thought it good enough, even after several years sophis- tication in cities. There was to have been steak, Mrs. Denton went on, with a teasing look at her husband, but Ansel saw something on the way home which took away his appetite so completely that he thought we wouldnt want any steak. Hughes began to fill himself with the tea and biscuit and potatoes, and he asked vaguely, What did he see? Oh, merely a family that had been put out on the sidewalk for their rent. I think that after this when Ansel wont come home by the elevated, he ought to walk up on the west side so that he can get some good from the exercise. He won~t see families set out on the sidewalk in Fifth Avenue. Ray laughed with her at her joke, and Peace smiled with a deprecating glance at Denton. Hughes paid no heed to what they were saying, and Denton said: The more we see and feel the misery around us, the better. If we shut our eyes to it, and live in luxury ourselves Oh, I dont call salt and potatoes luxury exactly, said his wife. Denton remained darkly silent a mo- ment, and then began to laugh with the helplessness of a melancholy man when something breaks through his sadness. I should like to see a family set out on Fifth Avenue for back rent, he said, and he laughed on; and then he fell sudden- ly silent again. Ray said, for whatever relief it could give the situation, that it was some corn- fort to realize that the cases of distress which one saw were not always genuine. He told of a man who had begged of him at a certain point that morning, and then met him a few minutes later, and asked alms again on the ground that he had never begged before in his life. I re- called myself to him, and he apologized handsomely, and gave me his blessing. Did he look as if he had got rich begging? Denton asked. No; he looked as if he could have got a great deal richer working, Ray an- swered, neatly. Mrs. Denton laughed, but her laugh did not give him the pleasure it would have done if Peace had not remained looking seriously at him. You think so I Denton returned. How much should you say the average laboring-man with a family could save out of his chances of wages? Hughes caught at the word save, and emerged with it from his revery. Fru- gality is one of the vices we must hope to abolish. It is one of the lowest forms of selfishness, which can only be defended by reference to the state of Ishmaelitism in which we live. Oh, but surely, father, Mrs. Denton mocked, you want street beggars to save, dont you, so they can have some- thing to retire on? No; let them take their chance with the rest, said the old man, with an im- perfect hold of her irony. There are so many of them, Ray sug- gested, they couldnt all hope to retire on a competency. I never go out with- out njieeting one. I wish there were more, said Denton, passionately. I wish they would swarm up from their cellars and garrets in to all the comfortable streets of the town, till every rich mans door-step had a beggar on it, to show him what his wealth was based on. It wouldnt avail, Hughes replied. All that is mere sentimentality. The rich man would give to the first two or three, and then he would begin to realize that if he gave continually, lie would beg- gar himself. He would harden his heart; he would know, as he does now, that he must not take the chance of suffering for himself and his family by relieving the suffering of others. He could put it on the highest moral ground. In the Family, said Peace, speaking THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 239 for the first time, there was no chance of suffering. No. But the community saved itself from chance by shutting out the rest of the world. It was selfish, too. The Fam- ily must include the whole world, said hei\ father. There is a passage bearing upon that point in what Ive been writing to-day. I will just read a part of it. He pushed back his chair, but Peace said, Ill get your manuscript, father, and brought it to him. The passage was a long one, and Hughes read it all with an authors unsparing zest. At that rate Ray saw no hope of being able to read his poem, and he felt it out of taste for Hughes to take up the time. When he ended at last and left the table, Peace began to clear it away; while Mrs. Denton sat hearing herself talk and laugh. The twins had fallen asleep in their chairs, and she let their father carry them off and bestow them in the adjoin- ing room. As he took them tenderly up from their chairs, he pressed his face close upon their little slumbering faces, and mumbled their fingers with his bearded lips. The sight of his affection impressed Ray, even in the preoccupation of follow- ing the movements of Peace, as she kept about her work. Is he as homesick as ever? Ray asked Mrs. Denton, when he was gone. Yes; hes worse, she answered light- ly. He hasnt got fathers faith in the millennium to keep him up. He would like to go back to-morrow, if there was anything to go back to. Peace halted a moment in her passing to and fro, and said, as if in deprecation of any slight or censure that her sisters words might seem to imply: He sees a great many discouraging things. Theyre doing so much now by process, and un- less an engraver has a great deal of tal- ent, and can do the best kind of work, theres very little work for him. Ansel has seen so many of them lose their work by the new inventions. What seems so bad to him is that these processes really make better pictures than the common engravers can, and yet they make life worse. He never did believe that an ar- tist ought to get a living by his art. Then I dont see why he objects to the new processes, said Ray, with the heartlessness which so easily passes for wit. Peace looked at him with grave surprise. Mrs. Denton laughed over the cat which had got up in her lap. Thats what I tell him. But it doesnt satisfy him. You know, said the younger sister with a reproach in her tone, which brought Ray sensibly under condemna- tion too, that he means that art must be free before it can be true, and that there can be no freedom where there is the fear of want. Well, said Mrs. Denton, turning her head for a new effect of the sleeping cat, there was no fear of want in the Family; but there wasnt much art, either. Ray was tempted to laugh, hut he want- ed above all to read his poem, and to lead up to it without delay, and he denied himself the pleasure of a giggle with Mrs. Denton. I suppose, he said, the ex- periment of emancipation is tried on too small a scale in a community. That is what father thinks, said Peace. That is why he wants the whole world to be free. Yes, said Ray, aware of a relenting in her towards himself; and he added, with apparent inconsequence: Perhaps it would help forward the time for it if every artist could express his feeling about it, or represent it somehow. I dont see exactly how they could in a picture or a statue, said Mrs. Den- ton. No, Ray assented from the blind alley where he had unexpectedly brought up. He broke desperately from it, and said, more toward Peace than toward her sister, I have been trying to turn my own little disappointment into poetry. You know, he added, that Chapley & Co. have declined my book? Yes, she admitted, with a kind of shyness. I wonder, and here Ray took the manuscript out of his pocket, whether you would let me read you some pas- sages of my poem. Mrs. Denton assented eagerly, and Peace less eagerly but with an interest that was enough for him. Before he be- gan to read, Mrs. Denton said a number of things that seemed suddenly to have accumulated in her mind, mostly irrele- vant; she excused herself for leaving the room, and begged Ray to wait till she came back. Several times during the read- ing she escaped and returned; the poet finished in one of her absences. [TO BE CONTINLED.] THE GROWTH OF THE FEDERAL POWER. BY HENRY LOOMIS NELSON. IN 1832 De Tocqueville wrote these words, which within a few months were signally shown to be false: The Union is a vast body which presents no definite object to patriotic feeling ; and these: If the sovereignty of the Union were to engage in a struggle with that of the States at the present day, its defeat may be confidently predicted; and it is not probable that such a struggle would be seriously undertaken. As often as steady resistance is offered to the Federal government, it will be found to yield. The supreme test came in 1861, and the Federal goverfiment encountered and overcame the active armed hostility of not one but eleven States, and secret, dangerous, and powerful enmity in sev- eral more. At the time when De Tocque- yule wrote, every great leader in the war of the rebellion had been born. Within sixteen years occurred a war with a for- eign power for a political purpose op- posed to the moral sentiments of many of the people of twelve of the then exist- ing twenty - nine States; and yet no one in all those States endeavored to give aid and comfort to the foreign enemy of the Federal government. It is true that the controlling party in some of the North- ern States was the party of the admin- istration, but no influential individual among the citizens whose conscientious scruples and material interests were tram- pled upon by the armies that invaded Mexico advocated forcible resistance to the Federal government. The truth is that the direction in which the powers of government in the United States have always tended is opposite to that fancied by De Tocqueville. In the very year in which he wrote, the State of South Carolina was threatening seces- sion and undertaking nullification. A brief delay in publishing Democracy in America would have demolished the French philosophers chapter on the weak- ness of the Federal government and the overshadowing power of the States. The history of the Federal government is one of growing strength and influence. The difference between the intention of the founders of the system and of the existing fact is nearly as great as that between the opinions of Jefferson and moderate Federalists. From the first or- ganization of the government to the pres- ent time there has been almost a steady advance towards centralization. This ad- vance has been both aided and retarded by the Supreme Court; but in the legis- lative branch of the government and in the popular mind the proportions of the Federal government have constantly grown larger. It has not been the ten- dency of the people of the republic to strengthen the local government at the expense of the general government. On the contrary, the general government has grown at the cost of the States, and within a very few months a measure was passed by the House of Representatives, and was barely prevented from passing in the Senate by a compact between Dem- ocrats and Republican advocates of the free coinage of silver, which would have interfered with the political rights of the towns, and of the individual. In the war of 1812, New England was passively disloyal to the Union. As Jefferson said, in a letter to Lafayette, During that war four of the Eastern States were only attached to the Union like so many inanimate bodies to living men. The Union had not so impressed itself upon the imaginations of the cit- izens of the States, it had not become so much an essential part of their idea of the government under which they lived, that it appealed to their patriotism. At that time De Tocqueville might have been justified in making the assertion that the Union is a vast body which pre- sents no definite object to patriotic feel- ing, but he was far from right in 1832, as South Carolina discovered. It was in 1801 that John Marshall was made Chief Justice, and immediately be- gan to announce the series of decisions interpretative of the Constitution, which enlarged and extended the Federal juris- diction far beyond the bounds which were fixed by Jefferson and his party. Mar- shall, more than any other public man of his day, declared the sovereignty of the Union, but he would doubtless have been astonished, and perhaps disturbed, if at the end of his long and famous career he could have foreseen all the results of his decisions. No one questions Marshalls

Henry Loomis Nelson Nelson, Henry Loomis The Growth Of The Federal Power 240-250

THE GROWTH OF THE FEDERAL POWER. BY HENRY LOOMIS NELSON. IN 1832 De Tocqueville wrote these words, which within a few months were signally shown to be false: The Union is a vast body which presents no definite object to patriotic feeling ; and these: If the sovereignty of the Union were to engage in a struggle with that of the States at the present day, its defeat may be confidently predicted; and it is not probable that such a struggle would be seriously undertaken. As often as steady resistance is offered to the Federal government, it will be found to yield. The supreme test came in 1861, and the Federal goverfiment encountered and overcame the active armed hostility of not one but eleven States, and secret, dangerous, and powerful enmity in sev- eral more. At the time when De Tocque- yule wrote, every great leader in the war of the rebellion had been born. Within sixteen years occurred a war with a for- eign power for a political purpose op- posed to the moral sentiments of many of the people of twelve of the then exist- ing twenty - nine States; and yet no one in all those States endeavored to give aid and comfort to the foreign enemy of the Federal government. It is true that the controlling party in some of the North- ern States was the party of the admin- istration, but no influential individual among the citizens whose conscientious scruples and material interests were tram- pled upon by the armies that invaded Mexico advocated forcible resistance to the Federal government. The truth is that the direction in which the powers of government in the United States have always tended is opposite to that fancied by De Tocqueville. In the very year in which he wrote, the State of South Carolina was threatening seces- sion and undertaking nullification. A brief delay in publishing Democracy in America would have demolished the French philosophers chapter on the weak- ness of the Federal government and the overshadowing power of the States. The history of the Federal government is one of growing strength and influence. The difference between the intention of the founders of the system and of the existing fact is nearly as great as that between the opinions of Jefferson and moderate Federalists. From the first or- ganization of the government to the pres- ent time there has been almost a steady advance towards centralization. This ad- vance has been both aided and retarded by the Supreme Court; but in the legis- lative branch of the government and in the popular mind the proportions of the Federal government have constantly grown larger. It has not been the ten- dency of the people of the republic to strengthen the local government at the expense of the general government. On the contrary, the general government has grown at the cost of the States, and within a very few months a measure was passed by the House of Representatives, and was barely prevented from passing in the Senate by a compact between Dem- ocrats and Republican advocates of the free coinage of silver, which would have interfered with the political rights of the towns, and of the individual. In the war of 1812, New England was passively disloyal to the Union. As Jefferson said, in a letter to Lafayette, During that war four of the Eastern States were only attached to the Union like so many inanimate bodies to living men. The Union had not so impressed itself upon the imaginations of the cit- izens of the States, it had not become so much an essential part of their idea of the government under which they lived, that it appealed to their patriotism. At that time De Tocqueville might have been justified in making the assertion that the Union is a vast body which pre- sents no definite object to patriotic feel- ing, but he was far from right in 1832, as South Carolina discovered. It was in 1801 that John Marshall was made Chief Justice, and immediately be- gan to announce the series of decisions interpretative of the Constitution, which enlarged and extended the Federal juris- diction far beyond the bounds which were fixed by Jefferson and his party. Mar- shall, more than any other public man of his day, declared the sovereignty of the Union, but he would doubtless have been astonished, and perhaps disturbed, if at the end of his long and famous career he could have foreseen all the results of his decisions. No one questions Marshalls THE GROWTH OF THE FEDERAL POWER. 241 decisions at this late day, nor his rule of interpretation by which every grant of power to the Federal government is con- strued broadly. Courts cannot stand per- manently in the way of the growth of a government. They may retard it or they may assist it, and Marshall materially as- sisted the growth of the power of the Union by bringing it nearer to the indi- vidual citizen. When it was determined that a United States certificate must be on board of every steamboat navigating wa- ters that communicated between two or more States, the sovereignty of the Fed- eral government was present with the citi- zen whenever he made a journey. When it was judicially and authoritatively an- nounced that a State could not tax the securities of the Federal government, the citizen was defended by the Federal sov- ereignty against the tax-collector of his own commonwealth. It is unnecessary to dwell at length upon De Tocquevilles error. It is one that should not have been made by any political writer. The Federal sovereign- ty was present everywherein the post- offices, in the harbors, in the custom- houses. Its councils became the most in- teresting in the country, and ambitious public men worked through service for the State for promotion to Washington. Moreover, the government which was or- ganized as the common agent for the thir- teen States which created it, and upon which were bestowed certain powers es- sential to the conduct of the business be- tween the States and with foreign powers, soon came to be a creator of States. Pi- oneers were pressing into the vast terri- tory west of the fringe of ancient colo- nies along the Atlantic seaboard, and they and their descendants were to look some day upon the Federal government not as something existing through con- cessions of power by them, but as the pow- er which had clothed them with State- hood. And it required not a great deal of wit and prescience in 1832 to realize that the day was coming when the States that derived their sovereignty from would greatly overbalance the States that had bestowed sovereignty upon the Federal government. And when that day came, other things being equal, the perpetuity of the Union was assured. In 1832 there were twenty-four States in the Union. Vermont, the first new State, was an old community. Kentucky was organized in 1792, from territory ced- ed by Virginia. Tennessee was organized in 1796, from territory ceded by North Carolina. Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois were the States that had then been form- ed from the Northwest Territory. Maine was the offspring of Massachusetts. The other new States had been organized from territory acquired by purchase from France and Spain. Vermont and Maine were in no wise different in spirit and in habits of thought from the people of the neighboring State. Notwithstanding its nearness to New York, and the long strug- gle of that State for the Green Mountain district, Vermont belonged, so far as its institutions of local self-government were concerned, to New England. The town, and not the county, was the basis of rep- resentation in the more numerous branch of the Legislature. The settlers of the other States were mainly adventurous or restless spirits, or persons who sought to better themselves in new lands, amid new surroundings. They carried with them, of course, the in- stitutions of the old States from which they came. New England took relative- ly a very small part in the early emigra- tion westward. Most of the settlers of Kentucky went from Virginia and Ten- nessee; most of those who settled Tennes- see went from North Carolina and Vir- ginia. The new Southern States obtain- ed their population from their own section of the country. In 1850 Ohio had 66,000 New-Englanders among its inhabitants, while 84,000 of its population came from New York, 201,000 from Pennsylvania, and 86,000 from Virginia. The spirit of absolute local independence which makes New England the preserver in this coun- try of the finest and most fundamental of Teutonic institutions was never the happy possession of the majority of the people of the Northwest Territory. To be sure, there is the town meeting in Ohio, Indi- ana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin as it exists in New York; but the town meeting which does not perform all the legislative functions of the town is an emasculated institution often productive of more evil than good. As I have en- deavored to show in a former article, the only town meeting in the United States that is worthy of the name is that which exists in New England. From the very first the people of the new Territories and the new States lean- 242 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ed on the central authority at Washing- ton. Mr. Garfield used to speak of this fact in order to account for the greater reverence felt for the Federal power in the Western than in the Eastern States. During the Territorial period the people received their laws from Congress, while the administrative and judicial officers were appointed by the President. And when they obtained the right to make their own laws, to choose their own exec- utive officers, to select their own judges, to govern themselves, it was from the Federal government that they received these gifts, and consequently the Federal government impressed itself upon their imaginations very strongly, and came to be regarded both by Americans, upon whom it had conferred the dignity and power of Statehood, and by the swarms of foreigners who subsequently made their way to the West from the monarchies of continental Europe, as the source of all power in the United States, and as the beneficent distributor of all public bless- ings. The Confederacy was very modest when it established its first ordinance for the government of the Northwest Territory, and yet by that act it came directly in contact with the individual citizen in a way impossible in the States, either for it or its successor, the Union. It was the central authority, even in the time of the weak Confederacy, that guaranteed the citizen from molestation on account of his worship or religious sentiments, that conferred upon him the right to the writ of habeas corpus and to bail for all ex- cept capital offences, and that defended him from cruel or unusual punishments. There was an essential difference, how- ever, between that early ordinance and modern statutes governing Territories. Instead of bestowing upon the Confed- erate Congress the power to enact laws, it provided that the Governor and the judges, or a majority of them, should adopt and publish in the district such laws of the original States, civil and crim- inal, as may be necessary and best suited to the circumstances of the district, and report them to Congress from time to time, which laws shall be in force in the dis- trict until the organization of the General Assembly therein, unless disapproved by Congress. The report was made to Congress in its executive capacity, not as a legislative body. When the Constitution was adopt- ed, the ordinance was amended to conform with it, and the President was substituted for Congress. In the later enabling acts, Congress provided more minutely for the government of the Territories which it organized. It came more closely in con- tact with the individual. It limited the jurisdiction of judicial officers, and made certain provisions concerning the appli- cation of the public lands to educational purposes. All this was in harmony with the growing importance of the Federal power. It showed clearly enough that the tendency of government was in the direction of centralization, and that the longer it lived, and the more populous the great West became, the less it would have to fear from the States. No one questions the right of the Unit- ed States government to impose condi- tions upon a Territory seeking admission into the Union. For very many years Congress has insisted, in admitting a new State, that it shall adopt a certain policy, but the extent to which the right is now exercised is very much greater than was dreamed of by the Federal legislators of the early days of the republic. Instead of the enabling act, like that admitting Kentucky, simply consenting to the ad- mission of the new State, we have now an elaborate law undertaking to limit the power of the people over their Constitu- tion. At first this preliminary restrain- ing act was confined to provisions setting aside lands and townships for schools, universities, and roads, but recently there was passed an enabling act which denies the franchise to all people who profess be- lief in Mormonism. And while these laws cannot be binding upon the people of the States, and cannot prevent their amend- ment of their Constitutions in direct con- travention of the enabling acts, they indi- cate a state of popular opinion concerning the relation of the Federal government to the States, a general acceptance of the idea that the general government, or the nation, has the right to insist that a Territory seeking Statehood shall possess certain qualifications and make certain pledges before it can be permitted to be- come a member of the Union. And there is no doubt that a very large number of people would consider the subsequent adoption of a constitutional amendment opposed to the provisions of the enabling act as a breach of faith. Indeed, within THE GROWTH OF THE FEDERAL POWER. 243 a very short time there has been a dis- pute as to whether the State of Missis- sippi has the right to limit the suffrage by the imposition of an educational qualifi- cation. All this is very different from the spirit which animated the original thirteen States, for in the day when they were supreme there dwelt hardly a man within the borders of the Union who would not have resented the faintest sug- gestion that Congress might impose any conditions npon the peoples right to frame I their own State Constitutions. The Fed- eral Constitution, with its limited grant of powers, alone restrained the States. But the country grew, and popular opinion grew with it. The States that owed their sovereignty to the Federal government increased in number and in- fluence. In 1832 the new States, count- ing Vermont and Maine as old, had only 67 Representatives in a House of 240, and 18 of the 48 Senators. In 1850 the 67 had increased to 103 in a House of 237. In 1860 the new States had 121 members, and the old States 122. In 1870 the new States had 160, and the old, 133. The majority of the people of the country lived in States that were created by the Federal government. Moreover, these new States had a majority of the Senate in 1850. The influence of these facts upon the relative importance of the Federal govern- ment has been very great. It cannot be overestimated. At the very beginning of the Union the people of the frontier States sought the assistance of the United States, while the manufacturers obtained the consent of the government to the for- mation of a quasi-official copartnership. Internal improvements were at once en- tered upon. Ohio was admitted to the Union in 1802, and in 1806 Congress passed a law providing for the construc- tion of the Cumberland Road, to connect it with the State of Maryland. Jefferson favored the project, but he was jealous for the rights of the States, and insisted that the consent of those through which the road was to run should be obtained before its construction was begun. The Cumberland Road for many years regularly made its appearance in Con- gress, and gradually there grew up an opposition to internal improvements, of which Martin Van Buren was eventually the leader. It is a significant fact that hostility to the expenditure of Federal money for the benefit of citizens engaged in the business of transportation was not based on economic considerations. The developing system was resisted on the ground that the Constitution did not be- stow upon the United States the power to expend money for such works. The suggestion was made more than once that the Constitution should be amended in order that Congress might legally pos- sess the power it had usurped. Even Martin Van Buren, whose early political distinction was won by his struggles against internal works, who instructed Jackson himself in what is supposed to be the modern Democratic doctrine, favored the adoption of such a constitutional amendment, and in 1825 asked in the Senate for a committee to prepare a draft. President Monroe, who in 1822 vetoed a bill appropriating money for toll-gates on the Cumberland Road, expressed himself as strongly in favor of the construction of internal improvements by the Federal government. His opposition to the bill was based entirely on his view of the Constitution. Yet, notwithstanding the constitution- al objections to the system, whose cham- pion presently was Henry Clay, the Fed- eral governments grants to roads, canals, and other similar projects became more numerous. The demand that the Union should build up the great West was made very early in its history, and it was a demand that was not to be care- lessly ignored by any statesman whose ambition was to shine in the large field of national politics. Mr. Van Buren voted for the toll-gate bill which Monroe ve- toed, and when, six years later, he apol- ogized for this apparent inconsistency with his almost constant position on the subject of internal improvements, he ex- plained that besides being a new member when he gave the vote, he was always very desirous of aiding the West. Both he and Benton voted to repair the Cum- berland Road, apparently forgetting that if the road should not have been built by the Federal government, it could not be constitutionally repaired by it. It is strange that the increasing inti- macy of the Federal power with the daily vocations of the citizens of the State did not impress itself upon De Tocqueville. While he was writing of the feebleness of the general government, that govern- ment was growing to be the dependence 244 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the then new part of the country, now much the larger part, for intercornmuni- cation. New York built its own Erie Canal. The Atlantic seaboard States be- gan their independent existence with a habit of mind acquired by the practice of looking after their own affairs, and of de- pending upon their own resources for better means of intercourse, for education, or for whatever was deemed proper for the public to do for the individual. The explorers of the Western forests, on the other hand, desired to enjoy at once the results which the old States had at- tained through two centuries of develop- ment, and there was no power that could gratify that desire except the general agent of all the States, at Washington. That was the power to which the States had ceded the great Northwestern do- main, and the territory south of the Ohio River. That was the power which had purchased Louisiana of the French Em- peror and given to the country the con- trol of the Mississippi River; which se- cured Florida from Spain, and thus ex- tended the Southern coast line of the United States from the Atlantic Ocean to Mexico. It was the power which, final- ly, had created the States in which dwelt the people out of whose necessities grew the demand for internal improvements. The Federal government continued to build roads, to improve rivers, to make canals, notwithstanding the constitution- al objections. There were propositions advanced in Congress to loan the public funds to private corporations; there were investments made in the stock of canal companies. The public lands tempted the beneficiaries of the Federal almoner, and a long struggle arose over bills pro- viding for the distribution of the proceeds of the sales of those lands. Some mem- bers of Congress favored the distribution of the proceeds and of all the surplus funds of the United States among all the States, while there were some who urged that the money be bestowed upon the new and needy States of the West. Mr. Ed- ward M. Shepard, in his life of Martin Van Buren, speaking of the vote, in 1828, of public land for the benefit of Kenyon College, Ohio, says, there was plainly intended to be no limit to Federal benefi- cence.~ In 1817, Calhoun, assisted by Clay, se- cured the passage through both Houses of Congress of a bill providing for the creation of a permanent fund, which should be expended for the construc- tion of roads and canals, and for im- proving the navigation of watercourses. Jackson had on several occasions shown favor to the popular system, but in 1830, Congress having appropriated money for the Maysville Road, which was entirely within the State of Ohio, lie vetoed the bill. Thenceforth opposition to internal im- provements became a Democratic shibbo- leth. But party lines have never been strictly drawn. The work went steadily on. The beneficences demanded of and granted by the Federal government be- came both more numerous and more ex- travagant. The war interrupted the con- struction of United States works within the States. But the steady growth of the principle that the Federal government has a supervision over the general wel- fare of the country was not checked for a moment. The Pacific railroads were built. The public lands were given away to private corporations, and in aid of edu- cational institutions within the States. The war ended,, and with the return of the rebellious States to their allegiance to their Union, and to their share in its power, the movement for Federal inter- ference became stronger, and the cry for largess louder. The rivers and harbors of the South were to be cleaned for inter- State navigation, and when the reign of the carpet-baggers was over, and the old - fashioned Southern Democrats re- turned to Congressthose old-fashioned Southern Democrats whose State pride and State loyalty had compelled them to go into the war which demonstrated the phys- ical supremacy of the Federal powerit was soon discovered that their ante bellum hostility to internal improvements had been lost in the conflict. There was hard- ly a stream in the Southern States for which an appropriation was not asked and obtained. So often and scandalous were many of the items of the annual river and harbor bill, and so earnest and intense were the Democratic Senators from the South in the pursuit of Federal money to be expended within the war-impover- ished States, that Mr. Thurman, in 1881, being on the eve of his retirement from the Senate, addressed to his Southern col- leagues a warning against the abandon- ment of their principles against that de- pendence upon the Federal treasury which THE GROWTH OF THE FEDERAL POWER. 245 involved a surrender to the Federal power. But the country knows that Mr. Thur- mans warning, and the angry protests of Eastern newspapers, availed absolutely nothing. The expenditures for internal improvements not only went on, but in- creased enormously. The pretence that the money was appropriated for works of national importance was abandoned. The constitutional argument in opposition was less frequently heard, and the members of Congress who occasionally uttered them were regarded as old-fashioned ob- jects of contempt. Internal improvements furnished the highway along which the Federal power advanced. The States were natu- rally more willing to surrender a jurisdic- tion the exercise of which entailed enor- mous expenditures, because the surrender not only relieved them of expense, spread- ing the cost of public works within their borders over the whole country, but be- cause by it expenditures at the place where the work was in progress were ac- tually increased beyond the amounts that the localities could afford. The Federal government was lavish in its expenditures. With the spread of Federal benefi- cence came naturally and inevitably the strengthening of the Federal power and the Federal influence. Against this ad- vancing power has stood one branch of the government. The Judiciary of the United States has done its utmost to keep the central authority within the bounds set by the Constitution. Its greatest re- cent service to the principle of local self- government was its resistance to the theory that the Fourteenth and Fifteenth amendments gave to the United States immediate jurisdiction over the citizen in the ordinary relations of life. But even the ~ourts have yielded to popular opin- ion, and, as in the legal tender cases, have assented to