^J ■^' _/*:- -4 ,^ V\u 71uolo,n,V,/ ^ PRINCETON. N. J / ' JjlVlflOII (O S.-<:tion Shflf. Xuml'^r ^i^ % m ^?r^^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library http://www.archive.org/details/ourbookorliterarOOfrot (IJyUA'y^yy cA^citvvw^^iiA^^. c> OUR BOOK OR Literary Rambles of a Journalist WASHINGTON FROTHINGHAM CHARLEMAGNE TOWER SECOND EDITION. Tiioir.ii NOMK siiniTLi) keau uk, have i lost hy time in EN'TKKTAININO uvsKLK wiTU PLKASiNO ANO t'SKFUL TiioucHT ? — Montaignt. NEW YORK: G. ]p\ Dilli7i^lia))i, PiihlisJicr, Successor to G. \V. Carleton & Co. LONDON: S. LOW, SON ft CO. MDCCCXCII. COrYIUtillT, MAKY FKOTH INGHAM. PREFACE. Keader, if you ilud this volume (»f any value, your thanks are due to Charlemagne Tower, whose liber- ality and public spirit not only originated its publica- tion, but furnished the means by which it was accom- plished. True, it had previously been suggested that some of my newspaper contributions might be worthy of book shape, but I knew that this could only be done at a pe- cuniary loss which I was not prepared to meet. Then, too, I naturally shrank from the task of ])re])aring so laborious a work, being already under a very lieavy pressure of daily toil. The reader can, therefore, imagine my surprise at receiving from an entire stranger, the proposal men- tioned below. It led me, burdened as I was, to make a beginning, being impelled in no small degree by what might be called the " moral support '' — that is the interest felt by a man of Mr. Tower's position and attainments in my productions. Under this influence and with the aid of an effi- cient secretary, I compiled a* selection extending over the work of a quarter century, and have classified the articles to assist in reference. Nearly three years have elapsed since Mr. Tower's proposal was received, and duiing this interval lie has advanced a large sum of money — much more indeed iv Preface. than I could have expected, and this lias ]>laced tlic publication bejond all risk of loss. While thus fulfill- ing his pledge, he has harmonized with me in the plan that should there be any contingent profit in the work, it should enure to benefit a scheme which I have long cherished, but have been unable to accomplish. Having thus introduced Mr. Towi.r's ])n»posal, I have thought proper to add a few extracts from some of his letters: Philadelphia, November 16, 1886. Rev. Washinoton FROTniNoiiAM: I have frequently read with groat interest the weekly letters, of which I am informed you afe the author, and I have been so impressed by them, containing as they do individual and local histories, that it occurred to me they should he n'])rintcd and put in book form. I presume you have copies from which this can be done. I write you now, to ask if this would be agreeable to yourself. I do not solicit any share of profit, if there should be any, but I would cheerfully, if permitted, share in the cost or in the losses that might be incurred. You will gratify mc by acknowledging this letter and particularly by complying with ray request for publication. Respectfully and truly yours, CHARLEMAGNE TOWER. Philadelphia, DecemJpcr 27, 1880. Dear Sin — I was gratified by the receipt of your letter and particularly by your inclination to allow a republication in book form, of at least a portion of your letters. Let mc suggest to you to select from your stock sufficient to make a satisfactory productimi, and permit me to caution you against being too limited in your selection. Your writings have co.st much labor, and are so valuable that not many of them can be spared. T3etter be profuse than omit anything that may be useful in local or personal history. Respectfully and truly yours, CHARLEMAGNE TOWER. Preface. v PniLADELPHiA, March 19, 1887. Dear Sir — T am pleased to learn from your last, that the future book is started, and tliat you hope to yet see it in real existence, and I am not surprised at your remark " Alas! how long a task it will be." I have myself believed that the work would be larger, and would require more time than you had at first expected, and your present conviction that " Even at the greatest amount of reduc- tion, it will be a large volume, and that if the book reaches pub- lication in two years, it will be as expeditious as can be ex- pected," is very natural. Take heart, however, and push it on; we will yet see the realization of these expectations, and I suggest that you increase your assistant force. Respectfully and truly yours, CHARLEMAGNE TOWER. PHrLADELrniA, September 19, 1888. I really hope that there may arise to you out of this undertak- ing, some profit — the greater the better. I was only anxious at the out set, that the many facts, incidents, and the abundant di- versified information, Avhich you had embodied in your published letters, should not be lost, but should be all published and made accessible in a condensed and inviting, as well as a durable fbrm. If there should be any profit from the work, I shall be the more gratified that I have said and done, what I have, since you tell me that you shall appropriate it to a " pet scheme " of yours. Please accept my thanks for this benevolent purpose — "a post- liumous effort," though you say " it must be" — and my sincere wishes that you may have an abundance with which to accomplish the purpose. Very truly yours, CHARLEMAGNE TOWER. Under such encouragement, added to continued healtli and ability to work (for wliich I should be more thank- ful than I am), the task has been continued until it has at last reached completion. Of course the book could have been indefinitely enlarged, but it has passed the proposed limit and is already almost too cumbrous for convenience. vi Preface. To those who, knowing my clerical position, inquire why there is so little religious matter in its pages, I reply that the latter are made up, not from pulpit, but from newspaper work, whose profits, meagre as they are, have enabled me to accomplish a clerical service which otherwise would have been impossible. Such being the origin of the present volume, its title justly sets forth the combination in the work, making it really, Ocr Book. I would add, however, in justice to Mr. Tower, that I placed his name on the title page without asking consent, the interest he has manifested in the joint efifort being my only excuse for this liberty, lie had suggested that it should be published under one of my best known pen names, but I preferred my own method. WASHINGTON FROTIIINGHAM. Since writing the a])ove, 1 have been pained to learn of the death of my honored patron, which to(»k place at his country seat in his native town, among his kindred and the friends of early days, and under circumstances which befit the close of a long and use- ful life. I forbear giving utterance to my feelings under such a shock — the greater since I knew how deeply he was interested in our mutual project. His hope to "see a realization of these expectations" has been denied, thus giving another proof of the vanity of human wishes. The book now becomes in some degree at least a monument to his memory, and death adds a sad and solemn consecration to our combined effort for public instruction. OBITUARY. CHARLEMAGNE TOWER'S DEATH. [From the Utica Herald.] Oneida county lost one of her most famous sons, and a thriving village was bereft of its greatest benefactor in the death of Charlemagne TowKR, which occurred July 24 (1889), at Water- ville. He was one whose life of integrity, patient labor and great good to others, whose widely extending influence as a citizen and as a professional man, in war and in peace, made him one of the remarkable men of his country and of his time. Charlemagne Tower was the seventh in descent from John Tower, wlio came to America from Hingham, in Norfolk, Eng- lind, with a colony led by Rev. Peter Ilobart, and settled in Hingham, Mass., in the year 1636. His father was Reuben Tower, who was born in Rutland, Worcester county, Mass., Feb- ruary 15, 1787, and who moved to Oneida county in the early part of this century. His father was active in the devielopment of the public improvements of his time in New York, notably the Chenango canal, and was a member of the Legislature in 1828. He died in St. Augustine, Fla., March 14, 1832, whither he had made a horseback journey for his health. Charlemagne's mother was Debora Taylor Pearce Tower, who was born in Little Compton, R. L, July 6, 1785. Charlemagne was born April 18, 1809, in the township of Paris. His Education. His education began in his native place, was continued at Ox- ford Academy, Clinton Academy and the Utica Academy, where he was assistant teacher in 1825. He taught school in the com- mon schools of Paris and Marshall for two consecutive years, when he w;t8 fonrtocui and tiftceu years of age. Shortly after he viii OBITUARr. was also engaged as a ckrk in the store of Hart & Gridley, mer- chants of tliis city. He entered the freshman class at Harvard University, for which he prepared under the tutelage of Rev. Caleb Stetson of Cambridge, Mass., in February, 1827, and was graduated in tlie chxss of 1830, with high honors. Among his classmates was Charles Sumner, with whom he formed a close acquaintance. The friendship lasted until Mr. Sumner's death. Many of the letters of their continuous cor- respondence are published in Peirce's ''Life of Sumner." Another of his classmates, with whom the intimacy of college life was perpetuated, was John 0. Sargent, who has been president of the Harvard Association of New York, and who is at present living in that city. Beginning at Law. After graduation in 1831, Mr. Tower began the study of law in the office of Hermanns Bleecker, an old Dutch patrician of Al- bany. The death of his father in the following year recalled him to Waterville, the home of his family, where he continued his studies. Later he went to New York city and finished his course in the study of law in the ofTice of John L. & James L. Graham. He was admitted to practice in the courts of New York State at Utica, in October, lR3fi. His beginning in the pro- fession was made in the office of Graham & Sanford, New York, and it was continued in Waterville, where he was also engaged for several years in manufacturing and commercial pursuits. He finally returned to his practice and attained a high positional the bar of Oneida county. Removal to Pennsylvania. Legal questions in connection with his charge of the well-known Munson estate, then in litigation, led him to Schuylkill county, Pennsylvania, in 184G, and he rc'mainc0. Ancient Mariner, by Coleridge — afail- ure wlien first published, 52. Ann street, interesting associations, 327. Anonymous publications, noted in- stances, 111. Astor, Waldorf's, novel, 40 — Astor library, 42, 337. Astronomy, Wordsworth's humane notions, 231 — hard times in Saturn, 232. Augfustin's love of the theatre, 301. Autobiography, dramatic, 1G6 — gen- eral details, 107 — the earliest in our language, 170. Author's difficulties, 28 — their small pay, 30 — their sufferings, 37 — their graves, 134. Authors and aunts — early care thus given to Scott, Gibbon, Gray and Lamb, 308. B. Bachelors, literary, 8. Bacon, absurdity of his claims to authorship of Shakespeare, 354. Bainbridtre captures the "Java," 507. Bancroft finishes his history at eighty- four, 49. Barlow, Joel, personal sketch, 86— his painful death, 88. Battle of New Orleans, 498. Bayard Taylor's fine appearance, 4. Beaumont and Fletcher, their literary union, 286. Bi'ggar's opera, written to ridicule the Italian opera, 34. Benefits, theatrical, 400. Bennett's earlv struggles to establish the " Herald," 339— his death, 328. Benjamin, Park, publishes the "Ever- green," 61. Beikeley, Bishop, his famous line, 57. Betterton's Hamlet, the first on re- cord. 400. Biblia Pauperum, its rarity, 94. Bibliomania, some noted instances, 90. Blair, Professor, a dupe to Ossian, 102 Blue Laws, origin of the term, 123. Bohemian life, 43. Book making, 23 — books declined and yet successful, 27 — book names and origin, 54 — high prices of rare works, 92. Booth, Junius Brutus, 365. Boswell, contemporary with Gibbon, 207 — his lottery ticket mania, 208 — seven years writing the life of John- son, 49. Botta's life of Washington, 478. Boy dell's Shakespeare, its great co.st, 92. Bradford, William, first printer in New York, 313— his rare book, 314 — his jealousy of Franklin, 315. British and American naval battles, 506. British Spy — written by William Wirt as a retort on foreign tourists, 594. Bronte, Charlotte, and her sisters, their ambitions and sorrows, 82. Brown, Charles Brockden, publishes his novels anonymously, 114 — dies at 39, 133. Bryant finds consolation in translat- ing Homer, 37. XIV Index. liurko publinhes his maiden work anonymously, 112— his death, 131. Burney, Miss, publishes Evelina an- onymously, 112. Burr, Aaron, his biographers, 541 — fictions concerning him, 542 — buys Richmond Hill, 544 — voyage up the Hudson, its incidents, 545 — Theo- dosia's marriage. 546 — Burr por- trayed by an English tourist, 549 — Bun's Hr»t wife, 550 — settles in New York, 551 — Theodosia's sor- rows begin, 555 — Burr in quest of a wife, 556 — asks Theodosia s coun- sel in the efifort, 558 — almost en gaged to Celeste, 562 — the power of women over him. 506 — his letters from Europe, 566 — bis return, 667 — marries Madame Jumel, 570 — is divorced, 571 — his death, 571 — por- traits by Vanderlyn, 573 — Burr opens the mysterious trunk, 674 — his daughter s sad letters, 575 — lost at sea, 576 — Alston, Burr's son-in- law, his sorrows, 676 — Burr's grave. 577. Bums' personal beauty, 2 — pictured by Scott, 213— Scott's high esti- mate, 213— Burns compared with Byron, 214 — Lockhurt's tribute to Burns, 215 — Burns contrasted with Allan Ramsav, 215 — Burns' death marks new birth of genius, 215 — his letters, 174. Byron's lameness, 2 — his satire on the Prince Regent, 67 — Byron ridi- culed in Rejected Addresses, 155 — his autobiography suppressed, 168 — his first love, 266 — lie visits the Orient, 267 — publishes Childe Har- old, 261 — his marriage, 2'i(i — rea- son why his wife deserted him, 270 — life in Italy and Greece, 273 — death and burial, 275 — his descend- ants, 276 — Ills influence on Scott, 27h— his artificiality, 279 — his tal- ent as an amateur player, 406 — receives .£2,500 for his tragedies, 38S— he eulogizes Washington, 4H3 — wants to start a paper, 335— his regrets over his past life, 347 — his noblest utterance, 280— Hours of Idleness published in a country town, 2S4 — Byron never knew the name of the critic that attacked it in " Edinburgh Review," 2><5 — did not at first intend publishing Childe Harold, 284 — his interesting letters, 174 — love of scenes of boyhood, 310 — builds a vault for self and dog, 181 — indifference to his title, 41 — writes the Corsair in ten days, and the Bride of Abydos in four,' 282— his small head, 283— his re- quest to be but led with his dog, 286. C. Cadell, the publisher, gives Gibbon a dinner to celebrate tne completion of his great work, 28. Campbell, .Thomas, his genius and sorrow, 121 — his death scene, 125 — Exile of Erin claimed by another man, 145. Candidates, disappointed, 583. Cary, I'hoebe ana Alice, their strug- gles and triumphs, 84 — their graves, 135. Castle of Indolence, written by Thom- son to condemn indolence, 289. Caxton's publications, 94. Ctianning, William E., 297. Childe Harold, its first name, 55. Chesterfield's letters, 173. Chatterton's fraud, 103 — his grand utterance, 58 — his death, 120. Churchill, the satirist, 129. Cibber, Colley, reminiscences, 894. Citizen of the World, by Goldsmith, 335. Clergymen and their titles, 157. Clay's defeat and disappointment, 684 — his oratory, 516. Clinton, DeWitt, his bitter humilia- tion, 681 — his exaltation, 582 — his property sold after his death by the sheriff, 501 — his vases bought by the Grand Lodge and restored to the family, 502. Comparison between Scott and Na- poleon, 197. Comus, played as a benefit, 401. Congress, the first meets in Albany, 451 — the second in New York, 453 — the third in Philadelphia, 454. Controversy about Ossian, 102. Contrast, a play written by Royal Tyler, 3Sl. Coleridge, family troubles, 20 — epi- taph on himself, 119 — tribute to him by Cliarlcs Lamb, 163 — Cole- ridge & Wordsworth in partner- ship, 288 — effect of opium on Cole- ridge, 165 — his wonderful gifts, 164- Cooper, fine personal appearance, 4 — his reason for writing the Pilot, 83. Cooke, George Frederick, sudden death, and monument erected by Kean, 364. Costly books, 92. Cottle, Joseph, publishes for Soul hey, Index. XV also for Wordsworth & Coleridge, 46. Courtship, how killed, 19. Couplet saves two poets, 139. Cowper's love, 15. Croaker & Co. (Halleck & Drake), 287. Criminal autobigraphy, 170. Cushman, Charlotte, buried in Mount Auburn, 367. D. Danton's expectation of fame, 136. Davidson. Lucretia and Margaret, their rare precocity, 83. Davis, John, originates the false story about Jefferson, 592 — satirizes Jef- ferson, 594 — his travels in America, 589 — his description of Washington city, 590. Davenant, Sir William, founder of the British stage, 418. Dead of 1832, impressive poem, 113. Death on the stage, 393. Death of editors, 328. Decatur captures the " Macedonian," 507. Declaration of Independence, its signers, 463 — their ages and death, the two oldest, 465— Fourth of July, an interesting celebration, 466. Debut on the stage very expensive, 398. De Foe's vicissitudes, 180. Dennis, John, the poet, Pope's kind- ness, 401. De Quincey's confessions create a sensation, 35. Dickens' domestic nnhappiness, 9 — his first appearance in America, 176 —his object in writing Oliver Twist, 35 — his death, 132 — dies in posses- sion of his copy-right, 47. Disappointed candidates, 583. Doctor, The, bj Southey, 112. Doctors of divinity, 188. Dodsley the publisher, fornierlv a servant, 138. Doyer street, a memorial of Wash- ington, 487. Drake, Joseph Rodman, personal sketch, 133. Drama, The Greek, 360— mortuary record, 362. Dramatic literature. Dramatic salaries in old times, 376. Drvden alters the Tempest, also troilus and Cressida, 179. Duel, the last fatal, in New Vork, 540. Dunciad, by Pope, published anony- mously, il2. Duyckinck brothers, their great ser- vice to American literature, 287. Dying abroad, noted instances, 595. E. Backer's duel with PhiUp Hamilton, 538— his grave, 539. Editors' deaths, impressive array, 328. Edwards, Jonathan, his humiliation, 581. Elzevirs, their rare editions, 29. Emerson, R. W., early lectures in Boston, 298. Evelina, by Mrs. Burney, issued anonymously, 112. Everett's address on Washington, 480. F. Farmers' Museum, its interesting fea- tures, 187. Father Prout's joke on Tom Moore, 155. Fay, Theodore, his judicious remarks on Shakespeare, 426. Federalist, originally appeared in a newspaper, 325. Fielding's new reading of Shakes- peare, 426. First monthly magazine in America, 60. First American play, 380. First libel suit in New York, 324. First in war, first in peace, etc., its author, 499. Fitch, John, first inventor of the steamboat, 505 — his sad fate, 505. Forrest, Edwin, personal facts. 365. Formosa, fabulous description by George Psalmanazer, 100. Founder of British stage, 417. Franklin, Benjamin, his scheme of union, 452 — his service in old age, 457 — his pen name, 321 — his early difficulties, 323 — falsely accused of plagiarism, 134 — his autobiogra- phy, 169. Franklin, James, reason for his im- prisonment, 320. Frankenstein, by Mrs. Shelley, its strange character, 42. Fulton, Robert, builds the " Cler- mont," 503 — description of that vessel, 504 — his brief career, 504. Fun turned to fact, in the Suez canal, 65. G. Garrick, personal sketch, 369 — orig- inates the fund for decayed actors, 398 — chief characteristics, 370. XVI Index. Gay's cbjcct in writing the Beggar's Opera, 34 — his humorous expecta- tion of fame, 137. Genius, its volcanic outbursts, 332. Gibbon's carlv love, '.• — Gibbon a modest author, 2^ — his autobi- grapby, 168 — his tribute to his aunt, 30s— his death, 128 — his style cen- sured by Noah Webster, 179 — he corrects a Paris professor, 178 — is the first author surgically exam- ined after death, 2fi3— receives |30,- 000 for Decline and Fall, 31. Goethe, Bvron's adniiriition of I.I.m genius — his eternal sunset, IHO. Godfrey, Thomas, writes Prince of Parthia. 1^5. Goldsmith's raillery on Garrick, 371 — his early love, the "Jessamine Bride," b — receives £500 fcir a play, 888— his Citizen of the World wnt- ten for the newspapers, 32."). Government hostility to early prin- ters, 323 . Grant memories, "Let us have Peace," 169. Graves of authors. 134. Gray's Elegy, 160— his letters, 173. Grave oldest of any author, 119. Greeley's death, 328 — his humble be- ginning, 338 — his confessions, 33'.' — his rapidity, 331 — publishes the New Yorker, 340 — pen portrait, 332 — makes the same political blunder as Burr, 544. Greek drama, its character, 306. Balliwell's magnificent edition of Shakespeare, 3.tI. Halleck writes closing lines of Drake' s American Flag, 2'<7 — his share in Croaker & Co., 2h7-^is beautiful tribute to Joseph Rodman Drake, 118— his grave, 134. Hamilton, Alexander, wonderful pre- cocity. 524 — his t'jirtecn tiees, 526 — duel with Bur', 527 — the funeral, 581 — his wi.l, 533— he is honored by the Cincinnati, 534 — house where he died, 536 — his monument, 538 — Hamilton and Backer duel, 538 — Eacker's grave, 539 — Hamilton the chief author of the Federalist, 325. Harvard College ridiculed bv James Franklin. 320. Hancock, John, his eloquence, 467. Happiness from self denial. In, 21. Uarleian miscellany, u curious collec- tion, 93. Harvard College caricatured, 319. Hasty Pudding, by Barlow, 88. Hawthorne, 296 — bis dreamy aspect, 5 — his unfinished work, 50 — his dramatic power, 422. Historical cycles, 51 s. Hofifman, Charles F., starts the Knick- erbocker— author of "Monterey" — beconn-s insane, 263. Holmes, O. W., his poem saves the Constitution, 2'.t7. Homer mentions the faithful dog Argus, ls2. Howard, John, the philanthropist, his last tour, 462. Hull captures the " Guerriere," 507. Hyperion, by Longfellow, meaning of the ns lame, 55. I. Ichabod, by Whittier, a satire on Daniel Webster, OS. Imaginary plagiarism, ir)3. Inauguration, Washington's, 459. Inlaying and illustrating books, 289. Intemperance of actors, 416. Interpolations and alterations of books, 120. Ireland, Samuel, his Shakespeare fraud, 105. Irving, Washington, his cheerful- ness, 195 — his personal ajipearancc, 232 — IJrst visits Europe and meets Allston, 234 — early literary efforts, 23.5— loses his beiVothed, 236— his acquaintance with Burr, 23^ — his second foreign tour and dark hours, 240 — edits "Analectic Magazine," 61 — success at last, 243 — meets John Howard Payne, 244 — coins the "almighty dollar," 59 — amateur dramatic player, 400 — publishes Life of Columbus, 24S — return from Europe, 249 — mission to Madrid, 250— life of Washington, 252— his death and burial, 255— his will, 256 — his three sisters, 257 — Irving and the ghost, 260 — Irving' a sorrows, 264. J. Jackson's defense of New Orleans, 499 — he does not know his election to the presidency three weeks after it occurred, 5^6. Jealousy of actors, 404. Jefferson's poverty, 558 — his regrets for attacking Washington, 475. Johnson writes Rasselas in a week, 35 — his failure as an editor, 3.34 — Index. xvu bis opinion on Chatterton and Os- sian, 104 — his mental disease, 195 — his fear of death, 127 — biographical sketch, 200— touched by Queen Anne for scrofula, 167. Jones, Paul, his naval victories, 521. Journalism, old papers, 311. Jumel, Stephen, buys the Morris house, 568. Junius, full review of the wonderful unknown, 217 — extracts from hislet- ters, 2 1 9— his generosity, 48, 220, 229 — scope of information, 221 — con- sciousness of danger, 222 — methcl of communication, 223 — his styl.- examined, 225 — his hidden friend- ship, 225 — reason for stopping his letters, 226 — who was Junius? 220. K. Kean, Charles, and Ellen Tree, 428. Kean, Edmund, his versatility, 414— erects a monument to Cooke, 31)5. Keats' death, 161 — Byron's words concerning him, 161 — buried at Rome, 162— his St. Agnes' Eve, 162 — his melancholy contession, 196 — Keats and Drake, a parallel, 163. Kemble family, rare histrionic gifts, 409. Kemble, John Philip, his Hamlet, 362. Knowles, Sheridan, writes Virginius, 376 — his triumph, 375. Lamb, Charles, his tragedy rejected, 51 — his social life, 52 — his sister's insanity, 51 — his farce damned, 423 — his painful letter, 174 — suppres- ses his retort on Southey, 183 — finds leisure painful, 289 — tells the origin of Elia, 55 — why he never married, 8 — Lamb . Parallels, remarkable, 141. Parker, Theodore, dies abroad, 119. Paul Jones, his naval achievements, 521. Paul and Virginia, its curious origin, 15s — translated during the Reign of Terror, 158. Payne, John Howard, personal sketch, 3S5 — is the original of Irving's Buckthorn, 258. Peculiar books, 42. Penally of success, 193. I'en names, mteresting list, 108. Pepvs' diary published 122 years after his death,' 193. Periodical literature, 59. Play writing, 379. Players' benefits, their antiquity, 400. Plagiarism, remarkable instances, 140 — imaginary, 153. Play actors' sufferings, 374. Plays, unsuccessful, 422. Pleasures of Hope, its first appearance in America, 121. Poetical collections, their defects, 139. Poc's Raven, its first appearance, 53 — his tales due to morbid intellect, 195 — he might have been a trage- dian, 421. Poor Man's Bible, the earliest book ever printed, 94. Pope's deformity, 1 — his letters pub- lished in self defense, 172 — bitterly attacked by other writers, 190 — his generosity, 190 — and his quarrels, l'.*2 — his satire on Addison, his life a long disease, 127. Popular utterances, their origin, M. Porter, Jane and Anna, gifted sisters, 83. Portfolio, published for twenty-seven years, 61. Pressure for the stage, its folly, 398. Pres"byterv aping prelacy, 57'.'. Prince of Partbia, first American tragedy, 185. Princeton memories, 578. Prologue, the earliest ever written, 420. Prologues and epilogues, 367. Professional reading performed for publishers, 25. Psalmanzer, George, his Formosa fraud, 97 — his penitence, 100 — never reveals his name. 101. Publishers and authors, 45. Purchas' Pilgrimage, the author a stay-at-home traveller, 196. Quincy, John, the first American ama- teur of Shakespeare, 354. R. Rachel, the Ophidian, 402 — described by Mrs. Ritchie, 403. Randolph's opposition to the War of 1812, 514 — his burning oratory, 515^-duel with Henry Clay, 513. Raymond, Henry J., his death, 328— his rapidity and elegance of style, 331. Religious lessons, 640. Remarkable parallels in poetry, 141. Resurrection of the devil, 8^8. Rejected books, yet successful, 27. Rejected Addresses, declined by Mur- ray, 27 — its skillful imitations of authors, 154. Rich authors, 40— American, 41 . Rich copyrights, 47. Richardson, author of Claris.sa Har- lowe, 138 — is ridiculed by Fielding, 138. Rivington, James, the Tory printer, Z\^ — his malicious fraud, 1m7. Index. XIX Robinson Crusoe, said to be written by the Earl of Oxford, 357. Roscius, the 3'oung, his brilliant suc- cess, 383 — loses popularity, 385. Rowe and Dryden, 55. Rowley Papers, by Chatterton, 103. Ruin from stock speculation, 635. s. Sands, R. C, only poet buried in New York, 114— his Dead of 1S32, 115. Satanic Press, the first, 318. Satire, three greatest, 66. Saved by a couplet, 139. Savage, Richard, his sad fate, 44. Salmagundi, its brief career, 62. Schuyler unjustly superseded bv Gates, 581. Scott, Gen. Winfield, his political defeat, 535. Scott, Walter, autobiography and diary, 168 — his lameness, 2 — love matters, 10 — his wife, 13 — his small brain, 283 — his regret at unfrater- nal conduct, 346 — large fee for Marmion, 30 — his dogs Camp and Maida, 182 — serves as a newspaper reporter, 33G — his immense earn- ings, 48 — his Waverly lies two years unfinished, 52 — claims the right to deny authorship, 36— his sermons, their enormous price, 304. Self denial and happiness, 18. Sensation created in London by the capture of tlie British frigates, 508. Sheridan's genius and misery, 364. Shelley's unhappiness, 10. Shilling, the old theatre price, 378. Shakespeare's expressions in modern slang, 347 — Rosalind can only be played by a tall woman. 349 — his critics, 349 — Hamlet, new reading by Uenrj Irving, 350 — Halliwell's grand edition, 351 — Shakespeare's feography, 351 — his rambles, 352 — irst American amateur, 353 — Shakespeare abandons his family, 341 — noble conduct of his wife, 341 — slow progress of his fame, 342 — his family troubles, 343 — he ridi- cules his wife, 344 — but changes censure to praise, 345 — names used in his plays, 424 — his commenta- tors, 425. Siddons, Mrs., her wonderful power, 410 — her sufferings after retire ment, 391 — she encourages Ma- cready, 411 — Irving' s admiration, 410. Simms, .7. R., publishes Tryon County Committee, 194. Southey's marriage, 7 — novel court- ship, 14. Sparks' Life of Washington, 479. Speculation, its dangers illustrated by a tale, 603. Spectator, Addison's reason of its failure, 333. Stage fright, described by Macready, and by Anna Cora Mowatt, 428. Stage solecisms, 382. Stage fever, its dangers, 398. Stuart's portrait of Washington, 484. St. Paul s church yard, interesting graves, 601. St. Leon, by William Godwin, its peculiar character, 42. Sutferings of actors, 374 — especially after retirement, 391. Suppressed works, and reasons why, 182. Swift, dies like a tree, at the top, 130 — his epitaph, written by himself, 131. Taylor, Bayard, the unequalled tour- ist, 596— his grave, 134. Tempest, extended analysis, 429 — its combination of evil and good, 434 — its beautiful moral lesson, 444 — confession made by its author, 448. Telegraphj' would have saved the baiile ot ?Cew Orleans, also that of Toulouse, 500. Temple of Fame, by Pope, its ap- plication to journalism, 44. Theatre, old prices revealed by Shakespeare, 373. Thomson wrote Castle of Indo- lence, to show the curse of iudo- dence, 289— his death, 128. Times, London, rise and decline, 326 — £5,000 offered for a file, 331. Tooth-ache in verse, 45. Tourists in America, early, 586. Treaty, the first national, 456. Tributes to genius, varied and pecu- liar, 117. Trinity churcn, ita two centuries, 598 — Anneke Jans, 600 — its history, graves, GOl. Tryon County Committee, its inter- esting record, 194. Twice mentioned book, 171. Tyler Royal, writes the Algeriua "C.iptive, 185 — personal sketch, 382. XX Index. U. Unsuccessful plays, 422. Unfiuisbcd works, extended detail, 48. V. Virgil's efiEorts for fame, 136. Virginius declined by John Murray, ■ 27. Virginias brought by Macready to America, 378. Vitality of an author, its proof, 56. Volcanic outbursts of genius, 282. Voltaire and Goethe, their extreme age, 131. W. Walpole, Horace, his Castle of Otrauto, 40. Warner, Susan and Anna, personal sketch, 84. War of 1^12, the war vote in Con- gress, 513. Washington's limited education, 48.'> — his farewell address, the original MSS,, 4x5 — antagonism to htate suiiremacy, 480 — Doyer street a memorial, 4S7 — first visits New York, 48 — Mary I'hillipse, his first love, 4'JO — marriage, 4'J2 — Byron's eulogy, 4',t3— K. G. White's beau- tiful tribute, 404 — Washington's death, 4'.i5— the funeral, 40'J— his namesakes, 401 — libelled, 4i'iS — liis high temper, 471 — his sympathy, 473 — his biographers, 475 — his monument ar.d its origin, 4^0 — his life in New York, 4'^'2 — his portraits, 4s2 — his inauguration, 459. Washington city, projected, 461. Wealth and authorship, 40. Webster, Daniel, satirised by Whit- tier in Ichabod, 68. Webster, Noah, good example to lit- erary men, 28 — edits American Magazine, 00. Weems' Life of Washington, 476. Wellington, lessou to public men, 581. Weld, the British traveler, makes a tour in America, 5^0 — describes General Washington, 587 — his opin- ion of New York, 588. Whittier's suppressed poem, 69 — his great satire, 66 — hia tribute to L. E. L.. 70. White, H. K., Byron's tribute to, 117. Wilkins, Peter, and the Flying Islan- ders, 115. Wilkins, Bishop, his voyage to the moon, 115. Williams, Helen Maria, translates Paul and Virginia, 158. Woodfall's offer to divide profits with Junius, 46. Wordsworth ])ublishcs Peter Hell anonymously, 114 — his suppressed tragedy, Is.s'. Wciman's discernment, 18. Women of letters, 194. Y. Young Roscius, his success, 383 — and decline, 385. Youtii, an injudicious plea in authors, 25 — Byrou and other instances, 25. Zeluco, a strange story, 42. Zeuger, Peter, sued for slander, the first action of the kind in America, 324. APPENDIX. The Foroeu Letters of Washington. A mystery to Washington, but traced by the author to James Rivington, 647. PRESS NOTICES OF FIRST EDITION. This book is a fine collection of literary miscellany — how books have been written and published, popular pen pictures of noted authors, curious facts from the literary world. One cannot turn a page without finding facts of value, and all told in a most off- hand and entertaining way. — [Chicago Inter-Ocean. Is just brimming with literary information of every conceivable kind. * * * The book contains upwards of three hundred essays and sketches by Mr. Frothingham, collected from various publications and dealing with almost every topic. * * * There are many bits of information to be gleaned from this book that would be an inroad on time and a trial to patience to collect elsewhere. — [Boston Post. A fascinating volume, full of all manner of curious things. — [Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. A strange history attaches to this volume. Mr. Frothingham has long been a writer of letters on topics chiefly literary. Charle- magne Tower, a Pennsylvania millionaire, whom Mr. Frothing- ham had never seen, wrote expressing admiration of the letters and offering to defray the expense of republication in book form. A volume of more than six hundred pages is the result, but Mr. Tower did not live to see it, having died too soon. Fine steel plate engravings of the author and Mr. Tower face each other, and the pronoun in the title is used in recognition of Mr. Tower's share in the work of producing the book. — [New York Herald. There is not a chapter which does not afford entertainment and instruction. — [Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. This book covers the field of literature and kindred subjects, and many of the articles are brilliantly written. The book is copiously illustrated and will be found of interest. — [New Haven Palladium. It contains pen pictures of popular authors, together with curi- ous facts in literature and a wide survey of the world of brainy thinkers. The crisp and racy style in which the book is written renders the work one of ffreat value. — [Baltimore American, xxii Press notices of first Edition. The history of the work is one of the curiosities of literature. Our Book is the cream of a quarter century of journalism. Dur- ing this period the author has beeu investigating ahnost every subject that conies within the higiier scope of his profession, and the present work is tlie result. The volume is beautifully printed and bound. — [St. Louis Republic. This work presents pen pictures of popular authors, together witli curious facts in literature. "Journalism" ))ortrays tlie struggles of the profession from Franklin to Greeley, and sketches the former giants of Printing House Squaie. "The Drama" shows the development of the histrionic art as illustrated by Gar- rick, Kemble and others, and a third, describes the political lead- ers of former times. — [.Milwaukee Sentinel. The book presents much condensed and curious information. * * * It might serve as a book of reference for items of inter- est about almost any man of prominence in the classes mentioned. * * * The subjects are as various as the size of the chapters. They cover a wide field — interesting and instructive facts — al)out authors, actors and statesmen of all ages and countries; something about book-making, libraries, monuments and Aaron Burr's love affairs. — [New York Epoch. The author has been a great reader of many kinds of books, chiefly of biographies and memoirs of authors, great and small, poets, playwnglits, novelists, essayists, has read largely and in many directions, and he has written largely also. "Our Book" covers a great deal of ground. — [New York Mail and Express. "Our Book." Tlie author has a happy faculty of grouping facts of personal interest, and his book contains a great fund of information. Tlie many curious facts given could only have been obtained by an immense range of reading, practical and earnest, and from the observation of leading men and events in a large city. The candor of these sketches is another pleasing character- istic— [Cincinnati Enquirer. " Our Book " is the title of a collection of rare bits of literature, history and ])ersonal reminiscences in the fields of literature, jour- nalism, the drama and history. Here are curious facts in litera- ture, and a wide survey of the world of brain-workers. The work embraces 646 pages, each closely condensed and illustrated by por- traits, both on wood and steel. Upon the whole, " Our Book" is one the most unique volumes that has appeared in many a year. Its crisp and racy style renders its world of information still more attractive. — [Kansas City Times. Our Bool^. GENIUS AND BEAUTY. It is an admitted fact that genius and beauty are rarely found in the same person. The handsomest man of Lon- don society in the opening of the present century was Count Dorsay, but he was in every other point very inferior. Welhngton, the chief soldier of his age, was impaired by his prodigious nose, and both Rogers and Southey, as well as Henry Kirke White, suffered from the same excess. Pope was partially deformed, and not- withstanding his fine eyes was a facile object for the caricaturist. Hence he speaks of "the libelled person and distorted shape." Another reference to his personal defects is as follows : " There are who to my person -pay their court, I cough like Horace, and though lean, am short. Amnion's great son one shoulder had too high; Such Ovid's nose — and sir, you have an eye. Go on, obliging creatures — bid me see All that disgraced my betters met in me." Goldsmith was hardly of passable appearance, and John- son was huge and clumsy. Gibbon was corpulent and suf- fered from a ruptnre which still more impaired his form. Burke was awkward and ungraceful, and John Wilkes, the so-called champion of liberty, was the worst looking jnan in England. What an ill-looking set the famous Literary Club must have been. 1 2 Our Book. Byron had a tine face, but his club foot was a per- petnal humiliation, and the consciousness of this defect seemed never to abate. This is illustrated by the follow- ing incident : One night as Byron and some friends left the theatre, one of the " link boys " volunteered to illu- minate the way, expecting the usual fee. " This way, my lord," exclaimed the light bearer, uttering the title at random. " IIuw does he know you are a lord? " asked one of the friends. "Know me," exclaimed the poet, "why they all know me; I'm deformed." Walter Scott was a man of fine ])ersonal ap])earance, hut he too was lame — having been injured in infancy — and walked with a peculiar limp. Wlien Lady Blessington first met him she exclaimed, "Why, sir, have you got hurt?" " Yes," was the reply, " about fifty years ago." Campbell, the author of Pleasures of Hope, though a small man, was considered handsome, but his life was a faihii-u and its miseries afTord a painful contrast with his pretty face. It is pi'ol)able that Burns was the noblest specimen of maidy beauty that British authorship ever produced. Walter Scott, w^ho saw him in his prime, said that " his eyes literally glowed," and added that hav- ing seen most of the distinguished men of that age, none of them had such eyes as Burns. Bulwcr was considered a handsome man, and so was Lockhart, but on the other hand Chai-les Lamb, Wordsworth, Shelley, and most of the literati of that day were of very i)lain appearance. Coleridge had large, expressive eyes, but this was all that was noticeable on his countenance, and Dickens retained till the last that cockney aspect which was the more apparent from his excessive display of jewelry. Moore was the smallest poet — in point of stature — in the entire Parnassian list, and he would have given half his beauty for six inches of height. Amekican Genius. 3 The pigmy of literature, however, was M. G. Lewis, compiler of Tales of Wonder, a now forgotten book. Viewed from behind, he was often taken for a half-grown boy, and yet this little fellow had influence in hterary circles. His specialty was the weird and the horrible, and he induced Scott to write a number of harrowing ballads for the Tales of Wonder, He thus really started Scott into authorship, for after the latter had written Glenfinlas and the Ev^e of St. John, the way was open for higher effort. They appeared in Tales of Wonder, and in this manner the pigmy led forth the giant. AMERICAN GENIUS. In earlier days American genius was more favored in point of personal appearance than that of the old world. In military life there were Washington and Winfield Scott, who were the finest looking men of tlieir day. In orators, both Daniel Webster and Edward Everett may be mentioned — both having been not only men of elo- quence but also of remarkably fine personal appearance, while in literature there were Cooper, Irving and Bayard Taylor. Irving in his latter day was often solicited to sit for his portrait, but he uniforml}^ referred to the picture taken by Leslie and the bust by Ball Hughes. The former is in the Lenox gallery, and is of such small size that it is generally overlooked ; but it is a gem of art and is a correct picture of the author when in the fulness of manly beauty. ^ The bust is in the Mercantile library, and, though of maturer years, is also a fine specimen of manhood. In point of personal appearance indeed, Irv- ing held high distinction. He stood five feet ten and was well built, and then his countenance had a genial 4 Our Book. as well as an intellectual expression, which, iiulced, was the best exponent of his character. N. P. "WilHs always looked as though he had just step- ped out of a bandbox. Ho was of light build and stood about five feet nine. He dressed in the best taste and his appearance in tlie Broadway afternoon promenade was so ]>retty that he was a great favorite with the ladies. His partner, George P. Morris, who once was so popular as a song writer, was a phort, stout man, with a dull countenance, which would hardly suggest " Woodman Spare that Tree.'' Poe was of rather undersize and dressed in good taste for one so wretchedly poor. His face had a sad, dreamy, intellectual look, which would at once rivet attention. Longfellow was not of poetic countenance. Before he became gray he was a blonde and the most strik- ing feature was his nose, which was altogether too prom- inent for beauty. When I first saw him his face was clean-shaven, and this rendered the nasal organ the more conspicuous. I think that he afterward wore full beard and moustache in order to give the rest of his face more full- ness and thus reduce the nose to reasonable proportions. Bayard Taylor was a man of very line personal appear- ance. He was tall and well-shaped, and his countenance was marked by power. He too had a prominent nose, but it was one which gave dignity and strength to his face. Edward Everett was also a man of unusually fine appearance, and this added mucli to his admirable oratory. James Fenimore Cooper, however, bore the palm among the literati of America. He was the beau ideal of physi- cal development, combined with intellect. The former, however, was most conspicuous. He was six feet and finely proportioned. His movements were easy and had that air which belongs to the naval service in which he N. P. WILLIS, J. FENNIMOKE COOPEK. Literary Marriages. 6 passed his early years. His head was large, and his features were of a leonine cast, while his clear, gray eyes were radiant with power. He was one of that class of authors whose personal appearance was superior to their writings. I saw him once plead in court, the case being one of his libel suits, and the impression became at once indelible. Those libel suits (like libel suits in general) were a great blunder, but they certainly developed a sur- prising gift of eloquence- Cooper, indeed, was the only American author whose oratory excelled his books. Hawthorne was well built and had an abstract dreamy look which suggested his mysterious cliaracter. Halleck and Bryant, though diminutive in stature, were dignified in countenance. This reference to Bryant leads to the remark that some of our leading editors were noted for ungaiidy appearance. Greeley, though well shaped, was awkward in manner, and in his early days had a verdant look.' Bennett was huge and clumsy with repulsive fea- tures, while Raymond had a powerful but an unattractive face and his deficiency in stature surprised those who felt the power of his pen, M. M. i^oah was tall and un- graceful and the same statement applied to David Hale, founder of the Journal of Commerce, but he had unusually fine eyes and a face of great power. LITERARY MARRIAGES. It has been questioned whether such unions can be advantageously formed, but I think that experience is in the afiirmative. Progressive education is necessary, and the one having the best attainments will of course be the educator. Woman is generally ready to learn, 6 Our Boo«. while a man, from tlie affected importance of the sex, often objects to receiving lessons from his wife. This, however, is a great mistake. Another error on the part of literary men (including the clergy) is the expectation of conjugal praise. Clergymen are generally pleased with flattery, and as long as the wife administers it her words are acceptable, while judicious criticism is imj)alatal)lo. To illustrate the benefit of the latter, I may refer to such a man as Scott, the commentator, who habitually road his sermons to his wife before pulpit delivery, and found her suggestions very valuable. Literary people arc more liable to matrimonial diflScul- ties than most other classes, because they so rapidly ex- haust one another. A literary man who is obliged by his profession to advance in knowledge will soon reach a higher plane than that occupied on the Avcdding day, and will of course leave his wife behind unless she maintain a proportionate advance. Here will be found an increasing separation of thought and culture such as never could occur under other circumstances. Hence the M'ife of a lit- terateur may become merely his housekeeper instead of a companion. By the same rule we may notice the unsuitableness of a woman, strictly literary in taste, marrying an illiterate man. "We have a number of female writers who have attained rank in the world of letters, but are married to men whose only distinction is found in their wives. The latter pursue a path which leads to mental culture, while the former are engrossed with business. The woman finds that her husband does not equal her progress and he soon ceases to be a real companion. She must pursue a solitary path or find congenial society elsewhere. Sad illustrations of this are found in Mrs. Hemans and Mad- ame De Stael, but American society has enough examples without seekinir them abroad. Literary Marriages. t The best read man of his day was Robert Soutbey, and he was one of its most versatile writers. He was a toler- able poet and a popular biographer, as well as a frequent re- viewer, and though not profound, was laborious and learned. He lived at Keswick, and his studies were prosecuted in his own house. Here he had a congenial companion in his wife, whose health afterward failed, but he cherished her to the very last. As he said in a letter to his publisher: I have declined joining a literary club to which I have been elected. Surely a man does not do his duty who leaves his wife to evenings of solitude, and I feel duty and happiness to be inseparable. I am happier at home than any otiier society can possibly make me. With Edith, I am alike secure from the weari- ness of solitude and the disgust which I cannot help feeling at the contemplation of mankind. Edith eventually sank beneath slow disease, and her husband at last surrendered her to the grave. After her death he married Caroline Lisle Bowles, who had won position as a popular writer. She lived to see the labor- ous literateur suffer intellectual paralysis, and watched over him after he had become reduced almost to second childhood, which occurred a few years before his death. Turning to public life, it is a matter of note that many of our best statesmen were very happily married. Jeffer- son lost his wife before she had pat^scd middle life, but their union was of a very happy character. It was, however, onl}'^ of ten years' duration. After his death, which was forty years subsequently, there was found in his drawer a parcel inscribed, " A lock of our first Lucy's hair, with some of my dear wife's writing." The mem- ory of tliat wife was cherished to the very last. John Adams was still more fortunate. He married Abigal Smith, the daughter of a clergyman, and their letters prove their union to have been one of intellect as well as one of affection. Madison also married one 8 Our Book. who was in evcr}^ point adapted to tlie position which destiny assigned her. The value of woman as a com- panion of a statesman is one of liic lessons taught by Walter Savage Landor in his Pericles and Aspasia, and it is to be remembered that as soon as Kapolcon cast off Josephine, his true and devoted wife, fortune ceased to favor him, and he went rapidly to ruin. Literary Bachelors. I might continue this subject long enough to fill a vol- ume without exhausting it, but before I go any f^irther I may be met by the inquiry why are men of genius so often bachelors? To this I reply that such instances are not owing to any thing like a want of appreciation of woman's value, but generally to unfavorable circum- stances. Most of our celibate authors have been in love, but found that its course did not run smooth. Irving, for instance, was engaged to a maiden whom he lost by death. Charles Lamb remained unmarried in order to devote himself to his lunatic sister Mary, whom he kept as an inmate of his house until her death. Lord Macau- lay never married, but it is j^robable that this was due to some youthful disappointment. lie might have had "A love Ihnt had an early root, And early had a doom ; Like trees that never come to fruit, But perisli^Q their bloom." Goldsmith was deeply in love with the charming Miss Ilorneck, whom he styled " the Jessamine bride," and even Pope, though a life-long invalid, expressed his ad- miration of Martha P)lount, but neither of these men married. The one was prevented by poverty — the ether by ill health. Hume seems almost the only distinguished writer who was formed for celibacy. He was naturally cold and apathetic, and indeed any one who could defend Literary Marriages. 9 suicide by such ingenious sophistry, was unfit for social hfe. Gibbon, when a student, ^raa in love with Mademoiselle Churchod, the daughter of a poor clergyman. His father opposed the union, and the love-lorn student resigned his hopes of matrimonial bliss. The girl was talented and became a teacher, and afterward married the richest man in France, and was the mother of Madame De Stael. She entertained her former lover at her palace twenty years after the match liad been broken. To return to American authors, I am reminded that Percival proposed, but was refused. Indeed, he was unfit for married life by reason of his peculiarities. Hal- leck became deaf, and remained single. So did Tucker- man. Confirmed bachelors are very rare among editors, physicians, lawyers and clergy, and have always been so. In conclusion it is very evident that wedlock has been beneficial to American literateurs as is illustrated by the lives of Hawthorne, Cooper, Longfellow and othei'S who might be mentioned. Literary life indeed will never become so celestial that authors will cease to marry and be given in marriage, and if any one needs the richest blessings of domestic affection it is this class of so often over-tasked brain workers. Most of the leading authors in Great Britain were married — some unliappily, the most recent case being that of Dickens. Such difficulties indeed have too often marred the history of genius as is found in Shelley, Byron and Coleridge. The first of this wonderful trio ran a rapid career. Before he was twenty-nine he had married twice, had abandoned his first wife who com- mitted suicide, had acliieved fame and reached a grave in the English burial ground at Rome. Byron was unfit to marry because of intense selfishness and lawless appetite. 2 %0 Ode Book. Coleridge loved Lis wife, but was so addicted to opium that he was unfit for domestic life, and this led to a per- manent separation. Bulwer's domestic troubles were among the most painful of this character, especially since he incarcerated his wife in a lunatic asylum as the most ellectual way of escaping matrimonial incumbrance. Tom Moore married a young actress whom he loved intensely, and who was his " Bessie" to the last. The later circle of poets, such as Thomas Hood, Proctor, bet- ter known as Barry Cornwall, and Ebenezer Elliot, were married men, and lived in a manner which commends home life to other literateurs. Hugh Miller courted with poetry and stone cutting in alternate exercise, and his " winsome marrow " delighted to read to him while he wore the mechanic's apron and plied his chisel and mallet. Scott's Love Matters. Scott's early disappointment was very bitter, and al- though its full details cannot be given it may be said tliat when he was a poor barrister, living under the paternal roof he fell in love with a maiden whose rank was above his own, and whom he could not expect to win. Still he hoped against hope. His father heard of the affair, and w^ith the sober sense of inature years, informed the lady's parents of Walter's weakness, and they at once sent her on a protracted visit to distant friends. Scott never knew the cause of her absence till years afterward, but he submitted to his fate, for as the income of his profession during the first five years averaged only £100 a year, he could not dare encounter the expense of a domestic establishment. The girl married soon after- ward, and one of Scott's friends was so deeply interested and even alarmed concerning the result that he wrote as follows: " This is bad news to our romantic friend, and I Literary Marriages. 11 now slindder at the violence of his most irritable and un- governable mind. It is said that ' men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love.' I sincerely hope it may bo verified on this occasion." Scott did nothing worse than to pen a few stanzas, which are worth reading in this connection. They are addressed to a violet and the following are the closing lines : "Though fair her gems of azure hue, Beueath the dew-drops' weight reclining; I've seen an eye of lovelier blue, More sweet through watery lustre shining." "The summer sun tliat dew shall dry, E'er yet that sun be passed its morrow; Nor longer in my false love's eye. Remained the tear of parting sorrow.'' The maiden thus referred to was the only daughter of Sir John Stewart. She married Sir William Forbes, the opulent Edinburgh banker, and died in 1811, but she had lived long enough to see her former lover the author of Marmion and the Lady of the Lake, which rendered Iiim the chief poet of the age. The year after her death he introduces her and also himself in Rokeby, and it is creditable to him that much as he had evidently craved to give utterance to his feelings he suppressed them until the one whose memory might have been deepest moved had passed away. She is the Matilda in Rokeby who re- jects the young poet Wilfred in favor of the warrior chief, and Scott thus describes his hopeless passion : " Wilfred must love and woo the bright Matilda heir of Rokeby's knigiit: To love her was an easy test The secret empress of his breast. To woo her was a harder task, To one tliat durst not hope or ask." The same idea of hopeless love and bligliting disap- pointment breathes through Wilfred's song of which I give the first and last verses : 12 Our Book. " 0 Lady twine no wreatli for me, Or twine it of the cypress tree: Too lively glows the lilies light, The varnished holly's all too bright; Q'he Mayflower and the Eglantine, May shade a brow less sad than mine. Then lady weave no wreath for me Or weave it of the cypress tree.'' "Yes! twine for me the cypress bough But O Matilda twine not now : Stay till a few brief months are passed, And I have looked and loved the last. When villagers my grave bestrew, With pansies, rosemary and rue, Then lady weave a wreath for me, But weave it of the cypress tree." It is an interesting feature in Scott's history that the husband of his first love was his chief creditor during his bankruptcy, and no doubt fellow feeling did much toward that leniency which the unfortunate author re- ceived. Sir William Forbes and Sir Walter Scott were then both widowers and from the grave itself arose a bond of sympathy. Ilcr death was deeply felt by Scott, for although he had been married twelve years the old flame w^as not extinguished. Rokeby appeared tlie next year, and Ix)ckliart says " that there is nothing wrought out in all Scott's prose more exquisite tlian the contrast between the rivals." Six years afterward Scott wrote thus to Miss Edgeworth : " Matilda was attempted for the person of a lady who is now no more, so that I am flattered with your distinguishing it." As this took place nearly twenty years after the disappointinent, it ilhistratcs the tenacity with which the author held to his first love. , Mutual Sorrow. When Lady Forbes died Scott was so affected that he called on her mother and they both fell to weeping over the sad affair. It is a cin-ious incident in domestic history Literary Marriages. 13 to see a man carry his first love so tenderly throiigh life, while married to anotlier woman to whom he always showed great attachment. Scott evidently made Matilda the ideal or dream wife who accompanied him to the last. During his latter days he said by w^ay of consolation to a young lover who had suffered a similar disappointment, that "scarce one person out of twenty marries his first love, and scarce one out of twenty of the remainder has cause to rejoice at having done so. What we love in these early days is rather a fanciful creation of our own than a re- ality. We build statues of snow and weep when they melt." Ten years previous to his death Scott copied some verses written by his early love. " I leave it," says Lock- hart, " to the reader's fancy to picture the mood in which the gray-haired man may have traced such a relic of his youthful dreams." Twenty-six years aft* r this disap- pointment Scott wrote Peveril of the Peak, in which he draws on his own experience for the remark that " there are few men who do not look back in secret to some period of their life at which a sincere or early affection was repulsed or betrayed." Ills Wife. A few 3'ears after liis disappointment Scott met a beautiful French girl, an orphan and heiress of £4,000. She Avas known as Charlotte Margaret Carpenter, and w^as the daughter of Jean Carjicnter — or Charpentier — a royalist who fled at the outbreak of the revolution. In this courtship Scott was more moderate than in the first, and writes to his mother of his " anxiety lest you should think me flighty or inconsiderate," and adds "that experi- ence is too recent to permit my being so hasty in my con- clusions as the warmth of my temper might have other- wise prompted." It is generally admitted that Scott was 14 Our Book. not well mated in the marriage which followed. His wife, who by her husband's baronetcy became Lady Scott, was deficient in intellect and her weaknesses often dis- tressed her husband, especially as they were so generally the theme of literary and social gossip. On one occasion when Jeffrey dined at his house after issuing a sevei-e critique on Marmion, to which Scott, of course, made no reference, the wife said to the guest when he departed, " Well, good-night Mr. Jeffrey, dey tell me you have abused Scott in de Review, and I hope Mr. Constable has paid you well for writing it." This outburst of feel- ing annoyed Scott deeply, especially as soon afterward it became a matter of humorous and satirical comment. South ey's Method. The method which Robert Southey pursued is worthy of notice. He was in love with Edith Fricker, a girl as poor as himself, and was obliged to leave England for Portugal for the purpose of improving his fortunes. Just before the vessel sailed ho married Edith and his maiden bride bade him a sad farewell at the wharf, and went home wearing her wedding ring as the only memento of the occasion. Southey desired to send her money, and knew that she would not accept it from one not legally her husband. This strange wedding was the beginning of a union marked by a more than usual degree of felicity. Upon the whole, it seems, as Shakespeare says, that " marriage and hanging go by destiny." It is, of course, very trying to be disappointed in love ; as Orlando says, " O how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes," but it is an experience often met in the history of genius. Campbell married his cousin and their children were deficient, one of the number becoming a lunatic early in Literary Marriages. 15 life. The poet, indeed, seems to have seen much sorrow, and though he was the bard of liope he was through life the victim of disappointment. Burns' experience in wed- lock was all that could be expected under that dire pov- erty which was his fate, through life. Going back still further in the literary record, Gray died a bachelor at fifty-five. His life was singularly uniform and presents few facts on which to base an opinion. It has been sup- posed, however, that he was disappointed in his affections, indeed one of the most powerful lines in the Elegy seems to have been an utterance of his heart : "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove, Nqw drooping, woful Wiin, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care or crossed in hopeless love." Cowper was deeply in love with his cousin, Theodora, but as he was really unfit for matrimonial life his friends interfered. The affection, however, which united this fond couple held its power to the last, and neither sought nor found another mate. Addison and Milton. Addison married the Countess of Warwick and the union proved uncongenial. He was a disappointed man and no doubt found the Spectator a consolation. In one of its essays (No. 607) he says, " it requires more virtues to make a good husband or wife than what go to the finishing of the most shining character whatsoever." No doubt he wrote this from his own experience. His matrimonial infelicity led to a separation, and Pope gave him a severe hit when he spoke of "Marrying discord in a noble wife." for thouo:h no name was mentioned the reference was too clear to be mistaken. Fielding seems to have been the best mated author of 16 Our Book. that (Jay. His wife bore with his irregularities with great patience, and he has enibahiied her in the lovely Amelia. Swift was the ogre of matrimony, and the only excuse for his horrible treatment of the woman whom he un- willingly wedded is that he was insane. It may seem strange that Milton, whose married life was unhappy, should have made so beautiful a reference to the subject in his L' Allegro : "There let Hymen oft appear, In saffron robe witli taper clear. And pomp and feast and revelry, With masque and antiijue pageantry. Such sights as youtliful poets dream On summer eve, by iiaunted stream." It may be replied that the above Mas written before the author reached that sad experience which clouded bis do- mestic life. It is evident, however, that the latter inspired that prophetic view which Adam utters in Paradise Lost, and which so jminf ully portrays some of the infelicities of married life ''For cither He shall never find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; Or whom he wislies most shall seldom gain. Or his happiest choice too late Shall meet already link'd and wedlock bound," It is sad indeed to think how often this projihecy has been fullilled, forming so large an element in poetry from Shakespeare, who moralizes on " the course of truelove " — down to Whittier, whose touching lines will not soon be forgotten : " For of all the sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these — it might have been." As the author of the above has gone through life a bachelor, it is possible that he uttered on this occasion the lessons of his own experience. The Lamia. 17 One of the most striking poems written by Keats is the Lamia. The theme is the serpent turned into the woman, who enchants tiic Grecian youth, notwithstand- ing the expostulations of the old philosopher. In modern society the Lamia is the woman whose vanity is fed by the admiration and attention of married men, who, on the other hand, are fascinated by her graces of conversa- tion or flattery. This is often done under a clear sky, and with no such attempt at secrecy as might involve guilt, and yet it cannot but occasion distress, and event- ually break up family peace. These downward steps are seldom retraced, and the tendency is to a deeper descent in the path of ruin. The Lamia is frequently to be seen in what is called "good society," and much of the disrup- tion found in such circles is thus to be explained. Men under such influences often lose self control and yet they cannot deny responsibility. It may be noticed here that some of the best emotional poetry of the eighteenth century was written by a bachelor who, as some think, never intended to call any woman wife. Such, however, was the case with Pope. Perhaps he did not at first contemplate celibacy, and therefore consecrated the early products of his muse to love. Ill health and other reasons now unknown may have pre- vented marriage, though his intimacy with Martha Blount is a matter of biographical record. Pope saw many instances of marriages in which wealth was the sole object, as is so frequently the case in our own day, and he writes thus : "The gods to curse Pamela with her prayers, Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares; The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And to complete her bliss — a fool for mate." This occurs in his epistle to the above-mentioned 3 18 Our Book. Martha, in which he offers some excellent advice on mar- riage, but omits to give her the opportunity of becoming a poet's bride, which seems a great inconsistency. "Woman's Discernment. Speaking of courtship, a woman of some experience made the remark that theest misery, and the friendship formed under such painful conditions was of an enduring char- acter, Johnson says they often walked the streets of Lon- don together — hungry and homeless. Sa^•age was the first poet whose life was written, and this may be con- sidered the beginning of literary biography. Johnson wrote it under the intensity of friendship, and it is there- fore the best of all bis productions. Savage has gone to Book Making. 45 oblivion and yet he wrote at least one couplet of impres- sive character: "On earth success must in its turn give way And e'en perfection introduce decay." The above is one of the deepest utterances of a reflect- ive mind. Savage is the first poet that describes tooth- ache and though Bums wrote a few painful verses on the same subject they are far inferior to the followiug picture of dental agony : "A tooth's minutest nerve let anguish seize Swift kindred fibies catcli — so frail our ease — Pinched, pierced and torn, inflamed and uuassuaged, Tliey smart and swell and throb and shoot enraged, From nerve to nerve fierce flies tlie exulting pain. And are we of this mighty fabric vain." Savage died in Bristol jail in his forty-sixth year, being under arrest for debt. He had enjoyed the patronage of Lord Tyrconnel, but lost it through reckless indifference to the proprieties of life. His death occurred in 1743, and as Johnson published his Vanity of Human Wishes soon afterward, I have sometimes thought that Savage's miserable end suggested the following painful picture : *' But see what ills the scholar's life assail, Toil, envy, want — the pat ro/i and tlie joAl.'''' PUBLISUERS AND AuTHORS. Publishers have occasionally been iminortalized by their authors. We should have heard nothing of Jacob Ton- son or of Lintot, had it not been for Addison and Pope. The former published the Spectator, and the latter the works of Pope, who was the only author of his day that made literature profitable. Coming down to a later age, John Murray is eml)alined by Byron, who formed a close friendship for his publisher, and made him the subject of gomebrief poems, which have redeemed him from oblivion. Junius both enriched and immortalized Woodfall, 46 Our Book. and this is tlie only instance of a writer benefiting liis publisher without receiving even the smallest share. Woodfall incurred heavy risks in this publication, but the sales of his paper, and also of the letters in book form, were sufficient remuneration. He offered to divide the profits with his anonymous contributor ; but the latter generously declined, and advised the publisher to make all he could out of them — adding, in very sensible manner, that " without a competency a man could not be happy, or hardly honest." "Walter Scott has given enduring distinction to his publishers, whose slip-shod method of doing business resulted in their common ruin. The Bannatynes will always be remembered as long as Scott, and so will Constable — the latter having also been one of his pub- lishers. It is a remarkable feature in Scott's^ character that the failure of the Bannatynes did not occasion any breacli of previous friendship. He always spoke kindly of them, although their failure had wrecked his fortune and blasted the hopes of a life-time. Irving owed much of his success to Putnam, who became distinguished as the publisher of the most popular American author. One of the most worthy of the book publishers of his day was Joseph Cottle, of Bristol. Byron ridiculed his brother Amos in English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, whose readers may thus be prejudiced. Cottle had a ten- derness in dealing with authors which is seldom found in the trade. He published for Southey, Wordsworth, Han- nah Moore and Coleridge, and was alwaj's proud of his connection with this galaxy of genius. How patiently he bore with the faithless and irresponsible Coleridge! IIow generously he paid Southey for his cumbrous epics ! Cottle was a prince in his line, and his name is an honor to the trade, Bristol should always revere his memory. Alone in Afkica. 47 Such is the sad distinction of one of the most gifted writers of her day, and L. E. L. is the only poet that found a grave in the dark continent. What painful associations, indeed, cloud the history of Letitia Eliza- beth Landon, who won such admiration, and, alas, awoke such jealousy ! A. baseless scandal crushed her youth, and led her, after acliieving a name in literature, to accept a husband so unworthy of her that the marriage was only a legal sacrifice. Then came the contrast between the intellectual circles of London and the deso- lation of life in a lonely castle on the African coast — subjected to marital indifference and the treachery of the native attendants — until sudden death and a soli- tary grave closes the scene. The vein of tender and pensive emotion which characterizes her poetry awoke the admiration of Whittier {vide, page 70), and gives her enduring power over all kindred spirits. Kick Copyrights. It is a remarkable fact in literary history that three authors, each the greatest of his native land, Dickens, Scott and Irving, should each die in possession of the copyrights of his works. Irving and Dickens were sole proprietors, but in the case of Scott, who Avas bankrupt, possession was conceded by his creditors, and the author granted Cadell one-half interest in this property. The price fixed for the copyrights, from Waverley to Quentin Durward, was £8,500. Four years previously Scott had, while nnder a severe pressure, sold the copyrights of seven of his best novels and eight of his poems for £12,000 ; but Constable, who bought them, failed in business, and they were sold at auc- tion in 1827, when Scott was permitted to purchase them. 4S Our Book. Taking into consideration the diHerence between tlie value of money, the sum of £8,500 must be estimated at $80,000. This, as it must be remembered, was not for any new works, but for a series of novels which began seventeen years previously, and which had yielded enor- mous profits. Scott earned nearly a half million of dollars during his literary career, which lasted twenty -six years, and had he not been involved in the ruin of the Bannatyne concern he would have been the richest literateur the world had ever seen. Dickens, like Scott, disposed of liis copyrights and then obtained them by purchase, paying for each a large ad- vance. This recovery was gradual, and when he became the sole owner of his works he was in receipt of an in- come which would have surprised even the author of Waverley. This is shown by the fact that a literary career of thirty-four years enabled him not only to live in hand- some style at Gad's Hill, but also to leave a fortune of £80,000, which is equal to ijearly a half million of dollars. Irving never disposed of his copyrights, at least in America. He sold tlie privilege of publication in Eng land, but being an American, he could obtain a copyright at home. Unfinished Works. The failure of literary enterprises seems the more pain- ful when the author's hand is paralyzed by death, leaving some important task unfinished. Milton seems to have been much grieved over the fragment which Chaucer left of what should have been a fine poem and hence he exclaims: •' Call him up wlio left half told The story of Cambuscaii bold." No one, however, can assume the spirit and enthusiasm of an author, and for this reason, unfinished works defy Book Making. 49 all supplementary effort. Hence those who liave been engaged in great literary tasks liave felt anxious to live fur their completion. Such was the case of Gibbon, who spent twenty years on the Decline and Fali. Having enjoyed its first success, and having also silenced his antagonists, he soon afterw^ard died. Irving felt anxious lest he should be unable to finish liis life of Washington. He was, however, permitted to do this, l)ut died within six months from its completion. He was then seventy-six. Bancroft was thirty-four when he began his great national history, and seventy-four when the twelfth and last volume appeared. Ten years later he issued a revised edition, being then (at eighty-four) the oldest historian in the entire record. Macaulay beg;m his history of England at forty-seven and continued it until his death, which occurred twelve years afterward. As in the case of Irving, it was com- pleted only a few months before his end. Pollok, who died in his twenty-ninth year, also saw his ])oem — The Course of Time — published. It was the great ambition of this noble young man to behold his work in print, and the six months which elapsed between its issue and his death gave him the assurance of its jocrmanent success. BosM'ell, who was seven years writing his lite of John- son, lived only four years after publication, and as he himself acknowledges, was highly elated with its rapid sale. These instances might be called narrow escapes from the risk, but on the other hand Dickens left Edwin Drood unfinished, and this also was the case with Cole- ridge's Christabel, which is so fascinating that the reader is much annoyed by the sudden break at its close. Horace Walj)ole attempted a quarto edition of his works, but death interfered with its j)rogress, and it remains unfinished, but this, however is no great loss. 7 50 Odr Book. Goldsmith never completed his life of Voltaire, and Hawthorne left the Dolliver romance unfinished, while the unfortunate Keats gives us, in Hyperion, the promise of a poem which never was fultilled, Matthew Henry was engnged for many years in his exposition of the Scriptures, but he left it untinished, and other hands assumed as far as possible, the purpose of the author. He died at fifty-two, his task liaving reached no further than the clofO of the " Acts of the Apostles." Doddridge hardly hved as long as Henry, and hence con- sidered it a special mercy that he finished his Expositor, but he did not live to see it in print. Sir Philip Sydney, who died when only thirty -two, left his Arcadia unlin- ished, and this accounts for its numerous defects. After-dinnek Speecues. The most remarkable in fiction is /Eneas' thrilling de- scription of the fall of Troy and his strange adventures, wliich fills two magnificent books of the ^neid. In point of literary interest, however, the most memorable of such occasions was the dinner given in Edinburgh in behalf of the Actors' Fund, where Scott for the first time acknowl- edged the Waverley Novels. This occun-ed February 2-, 18"i7, and made a deej) sensation throughout Euru])e. ScottV health was propo-ed in a glowing speech by Lord Meadowbank as " the Great Unknown, who now stood re- vealed." Scott made a very neat reply, closing as follows : I am now at the bar of my country and am Avilling to plead guilty, nor shall I detain the court by a long explanation why my confession has so long been delayed. Like another Scottish crim- inal of more consecjuence (Macbeth) I am afraid to think what I have done, Look ou't again, I dare not. I have thus far unbosomed myself, and I mean seriously to state that when I say I am the author I mean the total and undivided autlior. * * * "The wand is now broken and the book buried." You will allow me further to say with Prospero, "it is your breath that has filled my sails." Book Making. 51 The scene was deeply affecting, especially as Scott brought in as antithesis to the " Great Unknown," a pithy allusion to the " now small well known." This acknowledgment gave rise to a very effective "gag" at the theatre a few nights afterward. Sir "Walter being present. The play was High Life Below Stairs, and one of the characters asked, " who wrote Shake- speare?" The reply was, "Sir Walter Scott. He con- fessed it at a public meeting the other day." Chaeles Lamb. How rare it is to see a poverty-stricken clerk rise to fame! In the case of Charles Lamb it was poverty ag- gravated by still worse calamity. His father reduced to senility — his sister an occasional lunatic, and his mother the murdered victim of that sister's frenzy. Poor and without friends — a charity scholar and then a clerk, held to his desk six hours a day and six days in the week, ex- cept a brief annual vacation — his sole companion that unfortunate sister, their union being only broken when she was occasionally in the asylum. Very natural that such a man, if he had any literary taste, should find in literature a consolation — but here we see his path strewn with difficulties. His first little book of poems a failure. His tragedy (John Woodvill) rejected when offered to a manager, and his farce (Mr. H.) danmed in the most ruthless manner. It was well that he had a genial nature, which amid all these difficulties found utterance (as in Elia) and thus cheered the clouded scenes of his life. One of the most striking features in that early poverty was the close friendship between the charity scholars Lamb and Coleridge, the latter being " dear Col," and into this friendship Wordsworth was ad- 52 Our Book. mitted. It was at Charles Lamb's that Coleridge recited his own poetry — as only he could recite it. Then we have the gathering of genius on the "Wednes- day evenings at Lamb's which made the poor clerk's rooms a symposium of humor and literary conviviality, and gave him a distinction which he will always retain. It was a darkened life at first, but it is now lit up by fame. If Lamb had not been a humorist he might have perished like Chatterton in his early misery. Speaking of Lamb's early ill success, it is curious to note how many of what are now considered first-class produc- tions were at first unsuccessful. Here, for instance, is the Ancient Mariner, one of the most wonderful of im- aginative poems, and one which has a place in every col- lection. Reader, can you credit the statement that when first issued it was a failure? It was called a Poet's Revery, and formed a part of Lyrical Ballads, a copart- nership volume made by Wordsworth and Coleridge, and published in Bristol, because no London house would ac- cept it. Lyrical Ballads did not sell, and Wordsworth told the publisher that the chief reason was " that it contained Coleridge's poem, whicli no one seemed to understand." Motley's first volume was a failure ; I refer to Morton's Hope, published by the Harpers in 1839. Cooper's first novel, Precaution, was also a failure. Turning to Scott, his brillant romance Waverley, lay unfinished in a drawer two years, having been unfavor- ably criticised by a friend. The manuscript met en- couragement from another reader, and the book became a great hit. Novels sometimes do better by a change of* name. Bulwer published his grand romance of Zanoni first under the title of Zicci, or the Secret Order, but soon changed it. Edgar A. Poe first published his Book Making. 53 stories with tlie title of Tales of tlie Grotesque and the Arabesque, but it was not a taking name and was after- ward dropped. Hawthorne republished the Marble Faun in London under the title of Transformation, but with liis reputation such a change seems unnecessary. What a striking contrast between an author and liis books is suggested bj the recent splendid edition of Poe's Kaven. When that poem first appeared its author was leading a bohemian life in New York, and was an object of general pity in literary circles. I well remember the birth of the Raven. It appeared in the Whig Review for January, 1S45, and though I knew the latter was ephem- eral, I also knew that the poem was immortal. I have heard that Poe received $15 for it, and if so this was all that it ever brought him. Four years afterward he died in misery. Could the unfortunate author be restored to life and behold the Raven illustrated by the genius of Dore and published in such splendid style by the Harpers, he might feel at least that posterity had done him justice. Another work which Dore has illustrated in his best style revives similar associations. I allude to Coleridge's An- cient Mariner, which when first published, was an utter failure, and yet it eventually reached the highest rank in literature. Some of Longfellow's gems appeared in the Knickerbocker which is now forgotten. Amongthese were the Psalm of Life and the Skeleton in Armor. Charles F. Hoffman only wrote one thing which will live, Mon- terey, which is a martial outburst with the ring of a . psean. It first appeared in Yankee Doodle, a comic ephem- eral, which only lived a few weeks. In this day of literary fecundity one may look back with surprise to the time when an author was identified with his book. To write a good tale then gave a man dis- 54 OuK Book. tinction. Goldsmith only attempted fiction in the Vicai of Wakefield, while his patron, Johnson, lias given the world but one tale, Rasselas. Horace Walpole is the Castle of Otranto, Beckford is Yatliek, and John Sterling is The Onyx Ring. Gifted as these men may have been, they exhausted their invention each in one literary eifort. The strange and horrible story of the Yainpire is another instance, as its author never rea})peared in any other work, and sank away to oblivion after creating a brief sensation in the literary circles of London. Book Names. These often arise from arbitrary circumstances, Dick- ens says " Boz " was a corruption of " Mose," a pet name for a little brother. Scott got the best title for a novel by glancing at an old triplet concerning " Trigg, Rigg and Ivanhoe." The poem which he first called the Romance of Border Chivalry was published with the mnch better name of the Lay of the Last Minstrel. The same author having written a fine romance, was at loss for a suitable name, and his pul)lisher, Bannatyne, suggested Rob Roy, and this ringing title aided its sale prodigiously. Some of the most useful books have grown out of small beghinings. John Bunyan tells us that he did not expect to make a volume when he began Pilgrim's Progress. He says: " When at the first I took 1113' pen in hand Thus for to write I did not understand That I at all should make a little book," Few who look at so small a volume as Butler's^ Analogy would think it was in the author's hands for twenty years; Thompson whose Seasons were so pop- ular, wrote Winter first, but it is printed as the last in the series; Fielding wrote Tom Jones in the brief Book Making. 55 leisure which he stole from the office of police justice in London. Never before or since has a police justice pro- duced a first class novel. Hyperion does not sound like a book of travels, and Longfellow when thus using it displayed great ingenuity. It is derived from two Greek words, hyper-eon — going beyond or excelling, and is, therefore, applied to Apollo. Longfellow only meant that he had gone beyond his previous track, and it proved a very taking title. Speaking of book names it seems very strange that Byron first called his greatest poera"Childe Buren's Pilgrimage." His friends remonstrated, and he then chose its present title. Charles Lamb, in his sketch of the Old South Sea House, says that " Elia " was the name "of a gay, light-hearted foreigner who fluttered there " when he wrote his first essay. Wordsworth gave the very inappropriate name of " the Excursion" to a prolix series of scenes and meditations, but this misnomer, dull as it is to most readers, contains what DeQuincy ranks among the finest things in our language. It is the city seen in the clouds : Here serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed — there towers begirt With battlements tliat on their restless fronts Bore stars. ROWK AND DrYDEN. Jane Shore is the only one of Rowe's plays that has been performed on the American stage, and it recalls the name of an author who had alnu^st gone to oblivion. Rowe died in 1718, being then forty -five, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. He wrote a half dozen plays, but none of them ever held first rank. The most that jan be said of Rowe is that he was admired by Pope, who wrote his epitaph. The latter contains so pungent an 56 allusion to the neglect which Dryden's grave had suffered, that it led to the immediate erection of a monument. This incident connects these three men in a peculiar manner, and hence is interesting as a bit of literary his- tory. Dryden died in London in 1700, when Pope was but twelve. The interment was in Westminster Abbey, but no memorial was erected and Pope felt keenly this neglect of a brother poet. Eighteen years afterward Pope M^as called to wn-ite Howe's epitaph, in which he thus expresses his sense of the neglect by which so great a genius Avas dishonored: "Thy reliijucs Rowe to tliis fair uru we trust, And sacred place by Dryden's awful dust, Beneath a rude and nameless slab he lies, To which tliy tomb shall guide enquiring eyes. One grateful woman to thy fan)e supplies What a whole thankless laud to his denies." The contrast thus shown between the affection of Howe's widow and the ingratitude of the nation aroused such feeling that a monument was soon erected over Dryden's grave. Proof of ViTALrrY, An interesting feature in literature is found in the hold which some writers take on common parlance, tlius incor- porating their utterances in our language. Gray gives us the " bliss of ignorance," taken from his lines " where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise." His elegy also has afforded some very popular utterances. Gay on the other hand only lives by a couplet in the Beggar's Opera : How happy I could be with either Were t'other dear charmer away. Goldsmith, considering his popularity, is surprisingly deficient in this point, but his scenes make up for the lack. 1 refer to " Moses going to the fair " in the Vicar Book Making. 57 of Wakefield, and the exquisite pictures in the De- serted Village. Johnson gives us "not for a day but for all time," " to point a moral and adorn a tale," also "studious to please." The latter occurs in tlie prologue to Irene, and how little he thought it would survive that cumbrous and artificial tragedy. Pope ranks next to Shakespeare. His bright things are incorporated so extensively into common talk that one hardly knows whence they came until one discovers them in his poems. One of the most common is "damn with faint praise," another is "the feast of reason and flow of the soul," but I have no space for any more and can only refer the reader to the original which will well repay careful and repeated perusal. Addison has done but very little in this line, but " talking one to death " is in the Spectator and the same idea is repeated both by Pope and Johnson. Some of the old classics have contributed to the say- ings of the present day and Homer bids us " welcome the coming and speed the parting guest," while " thunder out of a clear sky " comes from Horace and we are indebted to Yirgil for the oft-quoted '■'■facilis descensus AvernV^ — also for that noble expression of sympathy with which Dido welcomes ^neas. To these are to be added Caesar's " veni vidi vici " and Constantino's " in hoc signo vinces^ " Strike but hear " is also an ancient utterance. Coming down to modern writers Blair's Grave gives us " the better half " and also " angel's visits few and far between," which one also finds in Campbell. Bishop Berkeley would long since have been forgotten had he not written that hackneyed line " Westward the course of Empire takes its way," and Thomson of the Seasons gives us "teach the young idea how to shoot," also " kilhng time," which is found in the Castle of Indo- 68 Our Book. lence. Young of the Kight Thoughts and also the satirist, gave the world many living utterances, and Dry den, though less fertile, speaks of " rule or ruin," " packing a jury," and bids us " beware of the wrath of a patient man." He also tells us that " great wit to madness is near allied," Cowper is best known by his saying that " God made the country and man made the town." Swift is but little quoted and Sterne's best hits are " our army swore terri- bly in Flanders," and " God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." Chatterton, though he died at sixteen, left one grand utterance, " Oh give the mighty will, or give the willing power." Tom Moore, with all his grace of rhyme and thought, has not entered largely into common use, but his "love me it were sure to die" is often repeated. Keats gives us " a thing of beauty is a joy forever," and Mrs. Bar- bauld lives in her " Life we have been long together." Whittier's " it might have been" is too painful to die and Longfellow lives in his " lives of great men oft re- mind us," and some other pensive utterances. John Randolph coined " doughface." Franklin's prov- erbs in Poor Richard's Almanac are now as fresh as ever and one meets them at every turn. " The school-master is abroad " is tlie only living utterance of Lord Brougham, who of all the brilliant coterie that gave the Edinburgh Review its fame, was the only man that shot a keen pro- verb into public use. Southey, though a life-long writer, failed in this point, even Tennyson lias given us but two or three living utterances, while Browning has no hold on common parlance. Byron is extensively incorporated into our language, and among his best things are " the glory and the nothing of a name;" "between two worlds life hovers like a Book Making. 69 star"; " a book's a book although there's nothing in it." He entirely ranks Coleridge and Wordsworth, and yet the latter wrote two lines which Bryant quoted and credited to Shakespeare. "The good die first but those whose life is dry As summer dust, burn long in the socket." Shelley is less quoted than any other man of high order of genius. Scott holds a medium position, and is ranked by Burns wliose " a man's a man for a' that " is the best thing ever said in Scotland, and will be heard in common use as long as our language exists. Irving's only noted saying is the "almighty dollar." Joel Barlow's cumbrous epics are forgotten — not so, how- ever, "the man of straw." Campbell gives to common parlance "distance lends enchantment to the view"; and " coming events cast their shadows before." Milton has obtained a deep hold on our language by the bright utterances in L' Allegro and Penseroso where lie speaks of the "light fantastic toe"; "linked sweetness long drawn out" and "dim relio^ious lic^ht." His sonnets contain " peace hath her victories not less renowned than those of war." Also, " they also serve wdio only stand and wait." Lord Macaulay and Edward Everett were admirable writers but they have no place in common parlance. I need hardly add that Dickens is more quoted than any other modern author, and he has written himself into our language to a degree that ensures permanent fame. Periodical Literature. When one considers the enormous size and wonderful perfection of Harper's Monthly or the Century it is cer- tainly gratifying to national pride that they are American publications. In order, however, to appreciate their iui- 60 OuK Book. mensity it is necessary to compare tliem with tlie earliest efforts of a similar character. The first monthly pei'iodi- cal published in America was issued in Philadelphia by Andrew Bradford in 1741. It w'as called the American Magazine, and a copy of the first volume may be found in the Xew York Historical Society. It did not, how- ever, receive sufficient patronage and hence never reached a second volume. The next effort of the kind bore the same name and was issued in Kew York by Samuel Lou- don in 1788. It was edited by Xoah Webster, the subse- quent lexicographer who was then thirty and had already won a name in the literary world. The American Maga- zine was issued at $2.50 a year and yet the entire volume does not contain as much reading as a single number of any first-class modern periodical. An examination of the contents reveals the fact that at that time America had but little that could be called lit- erature. Tiie entire continent did not contain a respect- able tale writer. The American Magazine "svas a weak imitation of London periodicals, and among its contents are dry essays on education, scraps of foreign news, births and deaths. Some Indian researches also appear, and occasional articles on politics. The most interesting feature in this antique volume is a description of New York which gives one some idea of the metropolis as it appeared a century ago. At that time Irving was a prattler of three years, and even Charles Brockden Brown, who is considered the father of American fiction, was only a schoolboy. It is strange, in- deed, to think that at the time referred to nothing had appeared in America to even suggest that vast advance in literature which has been gradually established. The best poet of that day was a colored girl who lived in Bos- ton named Phil lis Wheatley. Book Making. 61 The opening of the present century was marked by the appearance of the Port Folio published in Philadelphia and edited by Joseph Dennie who was the most versatile literateur in the country. Irving was one of its contrib- utors and it lived twenty-seven years. Dennie, who gave it high rank, was a native of Boston, and had won dis- tinction before coming to Philadelphia where he died after eleven years' editorial service. It is not generally known that Irving once edited a magazine. Yes, and he originated a name, changing "Select Reviews" (published by Moses Thomas in Philadelphia), to the " Analectic Magazine." Irving be- gan this service in 1812, being then twenty -nine, but he soon found that he was not adapted to editorship and resigned. The Analectic failed a few years afterward. Other Periodicals of the Past. Charles F. Hoffman established the Knickerbocker, and afterward was editor of the American Monthly, both of which failed. The former was for many years under the care of Lewis G. Clarke, but had passed out of his possession before its conclusion. N. P. Willis and George P. Morris printed the New York Mirror, which for a lonff time was the most fashionable periodical in America, but who ever hears of it now ? After the failure of the Mirror, Willis began the Corsair which however had but a brief existence. Park Benjamin for a short time issued the Evergreen, an excellent monthly which de served a better fate. William M. Snowdon made the Ladies' Companion a temporary success, and it boasted a circulation of 20,000, but it gradually reached the inevit- able doom. William E. Burton, who had a literary as well as a dra- matic turn, issued the Gentleman's Magazine, which went 62 Our Book. througli a brief struggle for existence and then quietly sank into oblivion. The Duyckinks, who were the most thorough liter ateurs of New York, published the Literary World for several years, but though its value was uni- versally admitted it was unsuccessful. Samuel Colman the publisher, issued Colman's Magazine, and Putnam also had a magazine but both failed. James Mowat pro- jected a similar effort, with no better success. Charles Matthews founded Arcturus, a Magazine of Books and Opinions, but notwithstanding its pompous name it proved a failure. Thomas Dunn English made a simi- lar effort wdth the Aristidean, but with no better suc- cess. Another enterprise of the same character was found in the Democratic Review, whose political rival, the Whig Review, was almost equally short-lived. The International, though a very clever periodical, failed to reach a perma- nent foothold, and so did the brilliant Appleton's Jour- nal. The Continental was begun by James R. Gilmore, better known by the pen name of Edmund Kirke, assisted by Richard B. Kimball, who won distinction as a novelist. Charles G. Leland also wrote for it, but after making a hard struggle for two years, the usual result was reached. The shortest-lived of all American periodicals, and also really the least valuable, is doomed to renewed publica- tion, by the fact that one of its ]>rojectors afterward be- came a famous author. Hence it has a place among his complete works — but what an infliction on the reader! I allude to Salmagundi, which only reached its twentieth number. It was a clever thing in its day, but though it deserved immediate oblivion, it lives as a part of Irving's productions. Among the entire record of unfortunate periodicals none held a prouder position than Graham's Magazine. Book Making. 63 It was at one time edited by Poe, and its contributors included J. Fennimore Cooper and other popular names of that day. Its sales were reported at 50,000, and for several years it was a power in the literary world, but eventually it sank under increasing competition until it finally disappeared. The Galaxy was another instance of a noble effort that ended in failure. The war of periodi- cals for existence has been as relentless as any other ri- valry, and the path through which a few have risen to success is strewn with wrecks which only suggest painful memories. Personal Allusion. My reference to the Knickerbocker leads me to men- tion that my first literary effort after coming to New York appeared in its columns. I was then a boy of seven- teen and earned $1 a week as a clerk for John B. Glover, auctioneer, corner of Broad street and Exchange place. I was allowed to sleep in the store and boarded myself at a cost of nine cents a day. This close economy supple- mented by the kindness of a lady who aided me with occasional gifts, enabled me to go through a severe press- ure. That a poor clerk u\a,y find in literature consolation as well as recreation I know b}' experience, and when I saw my maiden piece printed in the Knickerbocker in company with articles by Charles F. Briggs, Caleb Cush- ing and Washington Irving it was a moment of inex- pressible delight. The poor clerk had deposited the offering in the editor's box at night with trembling hand ; he had not expected its acceptance ; he had, in fact, looked on it as dead, and was therefore surprised a few weeks afterward by its resurrection. Of course he never received any compensation, nor indeed, did he have enough assur- ance to even introduce himself to the editor. The increase in his duties prevented any further contributions, 64 Our Book. but this incident always gave him special interest in the Knickerbocker. The latter was then under Clarke's management and he was unable to pay any except a few rare authors. Longfellow and Irving received small compensation, but most of the Knickerbocker writers felt sufficiently rewarded by a place in its columns — remind- ing one of Byron's expression : " 'Tis pleasant sure to see one's name in print, A book 's a book, although tliere's nothing in 't." Munchausen. It is not generally known that Baron Munchausen was a reality, and that the name has long been one of high rank. Gerlack Munchausen for instance, was a German statesman of marked importance during the reign of Frederick the Great, and the baron himself was an officer in the cavalry. He served in the Russian army with credit, and then retired to his native town, where he died in 1797. He had a penchant for boastful stories, and it increased as he advanced in age, until his name became proverbial for j-idiculous exaggeration. It is hardly prob- able, however, that he ever expected to see his tales in print, and hence the book itself must have been a sur- prise. It appeared in London in 1785 and was written by a German literateur named Raspe, who had fled from his country and taken refuge in London. He sought a subject for his pen, but at that time literature was at too low a mark to afford encouragement except in nonsense. The nation had just passed through the horrors of a seven years' war and wanted something humorous rather than solid. This led Raspe to the idea of ridiculing military life, and recalling the big stories in which the baron indulged he not only repeats them but adds all other absurdities within his reach. To give the volume Book Making. 65 a showy name he styled it Baron Munchausen's Narra- tive of liis Marvelous Travels and Campaigns. The book proved popular and the next year another edition was issued with pictures " from the baron's drawings." The same year it was translated into German, where its popularity has continued until the present time. In Lon- don it ran through seven editions in as many years, but in 1793 its extravagances seemed so weak before the in- credible horrors of the French revolution that the sale was for a time checked. In a few years, however, it revived, and at last it was honored by the genius of Dore. There is so much real humor in the Munchausen extrava- ganzas that the book may be considered one of the per- manent features in literature, and it will be long before its absurd and grotesque inventions are equaled. Fun Turned to Fact. It is a curious and, indeed, a surprising fact that one of the greatest triumphs of modern science is but a repro- duction of one of the Baron Munchausen absurdities. How strange to find the following statement in a book published a hundred years ago : Seized with a fury for canal cutting, I took it into my head to form an immediate communication between the Mediterranean and the Red sea. I proceeded to the isthmus of Suez * * * Having made a track with my chariot from sea to sea, I ordered my Turks and Russians to begin, and in a few hours we had the pleasure of seeing a fleet of British East Indiamen in full sail tlirough the canal. The officers of this fleet were very polite and ])aid me every applause and congratulation my exploit could merit. The baron also creates with equal facility a canal across the isthmus of Darien, but in tbis achievement he is stiU in advance of the age. Whittiee the Satirist. The attention which the octogenarian poet has at- 0 ^6 Odk Book. tracted leads one to consider a very important feature in his character, and also one which has been generally over- looked. I refer to his powers of satire, in which he ranks all others who have made poetry subserve censure. The three greatest British satirists were Dryden, Pope and Byron ; but Whittier by one effort threw them all in the shade. His Ichabod is the most terrible thing of the kind in existence, and when first published created a more intense sensation than any similar production in America. In other words, Ichabod is a picture of Daniel Webster after his " seventh of March speech,' ' in which he went over to the pro-slavery ranks in hope of gaining the presidency. I well remember the deep sor- row which filled the hearts not only of Webster's friends, but of all the friends of freedom, and amid this general lament was heard the voice of Whittier, touching and plaintive, but scathing as the fire from heaven. It was, indeed, this very combination of sorrow and indignation which gave the utterance such terrific power. Other Satires. Having referred to other distinguished satirists I would say that Dryden gave a severe picture of Villiers in the following lines : " Stiff in opinion, yet always in the wrong; Was everything by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chemist, tidier, statesman and buffoon." There is a coarseness in the above which did not suit the next generation, and passing over a number of sharp personalities we come to the keenest thing in the eigh- teenth century, Pope's exposure of Addison. These men had been close friends, and Pope had written the pro- logue for Addison's tragedy of Cato, but jealousy afterward arose, and eventually Pope suspected that Book Making. G7 Addison was endeav^oring to injure him. This suspicion gradually led to conviction, and Pope determined to in- clude Addison in a general castigation of his literar}-^ enemies. I do not mean The Dunciad, but in that ])revious review found in the Prologue to the Satires wlicre he draws the following picture of one : "Bless'd with eacii talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse and live with ease. Should such a man, too fond to rule alone. Bear like the Turk no brother near the throne, View him with scornful yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise. Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, others teach to sneer. Willing to wound and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and liesitate dislike, A timorous foe and a suspicious friend. Alike reserved to blame or to commend. Like Cato give his little senate laws And sit attentive to his own applause. Who but must laugh if such a man there be, Who would not weep if Atticus were he ? " This lampoon thrilled the literary circles of London, for all knew that Atticus was none other than Addison, while to make the identity more complete there is the refer- ence to Cato, which was Addison's only attempt at tragedy. Byron. The third satirist is Byron, but I do not here refer to his ''English Bards and Scotcli Keviewers," fur keen as were its shafts, the variety in his attack impaired its intensity. I, therefore, designate his Windsor Poetics as the chief satire of his day, not only because of the truth which it contains, but because it is concentrated on one man, and he the most exalted person, in rank at least, in the kingdom being indeed the heir to the throne. Byron became deejjly indignant at the imprisonment of Leigh Hunt for an alleged libel on the prince regent, and. 68 Our Book. therefore, gave expression to his feelings in the following outburst which was headed thus : " Lines composed on the occasion of his royal highness, the prince regent, being seen standing between the coffins of Hemy YIII and Charles I in the royal vault at Windsor: "Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, By headless Charles, see heartless Henry lies; Between them stands another sceptred tiling; It moves, it reigns, in all but name a king. Charles to his people, Henry to his wife, In him the double tyrant starts to life ; Justice and death have mixed their dust in vain, Each royal vampire wakes to life again. Ah, what can tombs avail, since these disgorge The blood and dust of each to mould a George." These lines were, of course, widely read, and the sensa- tion can hardly be described. Never was a shot more effective, since it came, not from a plebeian, but from a peer of the realm and the loftiest genius that the peerage has ever produced. Whittier oij Webster. I need hardly say that " Ichabod " means "his glorj' is departed." This stands number four in point of time, but it ranks all of the others, because it represents princi- ple. Having, however, already referred to this feature in the case, I will place the poem immediately before my readers and let them judge for themselves. ICHABOD. So fallen ! So lost ! the light withdrawn Which once he wore ! The glory from his gray hair gone Forevermore. Revile him not, the tempter hath A snare for all ; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, IJetit his fall! Book Making. 69 O, dumb be passion's stormy rage, When he who might Have lighted up and led his age. Falls back in night. Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark A bright soul driven, Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark, From hope and heaven! Let not the land once proud of him Insult him now, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, Dishonored brow. But let its humbled sons, instead, From sea to lake, A long lament, as for the dead. In sadness make. Of all we loved and honored, naught Save power remains, A fallen angel's pride of thought, Still strong in chains. All else is gone ; from those great eyes The soul has fled ; When faith is lost, when honor dies. The man is dead ! Then, pay the reverence of old days To his dead fame ; Walk backward, with averted gaze, And hide the shame! A Literary Curiosity. I now give a resurrected poem wliicli Whittier wrote when he was only twenty-three, and which was inscribed to Miss L. E. Landon, author of " The Improvisatrice." Whittier omitted it in his complete edition and hence I now feel it my duty to publish the poem in full, so that those who desire to incorporate it in Whittier's works may have the opportunity. It is certainly a fine produc- tion and deserves preservation, and its discovery was very fortunate. I found it in the Boston Athenceum of Aug- ust, 1830. One cannot fail to be surprised that Whittier should omit so creditable a poem, but it is possible that 70 OuK Book. he considered it too gushing for a Quaker, and not in harmony with the tenor of his muse. It is evident, how- ever, that he caught inspiration from tlie person whom he addresses, for this is the earliest poem of his that I can find in print, and I have reason to beh'eve that it is really his first effort of the kind. I wrote Whittier ask- ing why he omitted it, but received no reply. The pub- lic, however, has a right to it and I now give it fresh life. TO THE AUTHOR OF THE IMPROVISATRICE. BY J. GREENLEAF WHITTIER. I know thee not, high spirit, but the sympathy of tliought Hath often to my Iiours of dreams thy living presence brought; And I feel that I could love thee with the fondness of a brother, As the sainted ones of Paradise bear love for one another. For I know thy spirit hath been pour'd full freely in thy song, "Where feeling hath been prodigal, and passion hatli been strong — Tliat the secrets of thy bosom are burning on thy lyre. In the nature of thy worshiping a ministry of fire. Young priestess at a holy shrine, I scarce can dream that years So few and beautiful as thine are register'd in tears — That the gift of thy affection hath gone abroad in vain — A rose-leaf on the autumn wind — a foam wreath on the main? Yet blended with thy beautiful and intellectual lays, I read a mournful consciousness of cold and evil days; Of the weariness existence feels when its sunlight has gone down, And from the autumn of the heart the flowers of hope are strown ; Of the coldness of the hollow world, its vanities that pass Like tinges from the sunset, or night-gems from the grass — Its mocking and luimeaning praise, the flatterer's fatal art — Flowers madly to the bosom clasp'd, with serpents at their heart! And Oh! if things like these have been the chasteners of thy years, How hath thy woman's spirit known the bitterness of tears! How hath thy girlhood visions — the warm wild thought of youth, Folded their sunny pinions, and darken'd into truth ! O wearily, most wearily, unto the child of song. The heavy tide of being rolls, a sunless wave, along — When the promise of existence fades before the time of noon, And the evening of the soul comes on, unblest l)y star or moon. Book Making. Yl God help thee in thy weary way ! and if the silver tone Of fame hath music for an ear so chasten'd as thine own, Thou hast it from another clime, where heart and mind are free, And where the brave and beautiful have bow'd themselves to thee. And one whose home hath been among tiie mountains of the north, Wliere the cataract mocks the earthquake, and the giant streams come forth, Where spirits in their robes of flame dance o'er the clear blue sky. And to the many-voiced storm the eagle makes reply. A worshiper before the shrine at which thy spirit bendeth. While on its pure and natural gifts the holy flame descendeth, Hath pour'd his tribute on thine ear, as he would praise a star Whose beams had wander'd down to him from tlieir blue home afar. Lady ! amidst the clarion-note of well-deserved fame, It were, perhaps, but vain to hope this feeble lay might claim A portion of thy fair regard, or win a thought of thine To linger on a gift so frail and dissonant as mine. But onward in thy skyward path — a thousand eyes shall turn To where, like heaven's unwasting stars, thy gifts of spirit burn — A thousand hearts shall wildly tlirill where'er thy lays are known, And stately manhood blend its praise with woman's gentlest tone. Fare"rteli ! — the hand that traces this may perish ere life's noon. And the spirit that hath guided it may be forgot as soon — • Forgotten with its lofty liopes — the fever'd dreams of mind — Unnoted, stealing to the dead without a name behind. But thou upon the human heart, in characters of flame. And on the heaven of intellect hast registered tliy name; The gifted ones of fallen earth shall worship at thy shrine, And sainted spirits joy to hold companionship witli thine. How remarkable that one who spoke of perishing " ere Hfe's noon" should live to fonr-score, while she whom he apostrophizes died so early, and only found a grave on the African coast ! It is also surprising to see how cor- I'ectly Whittier understood the voice of sorrow, and hence his first poem has peculiar interest. Tom Mooke. Some of my readers will find it hard to believe that an author so famous as Moore was in point of stature one of the smallest men of his day. Isaac Watts the hymnist, 72 Our Book. was also a very small man, and thus the most distin guished lyric writers of the Bi'itish empire — the one sacred and the other profane — were matched in stature ; Moore was of delicate but graceful frame, beautiful in countenance and highly gifted as a vocalist. No society man equaled him as a convivial guest and to this was added his poetical genius. He was one of the few who throw their souls into their words, and for this reason Ms verses will always be popular. Moore's works indeed, are proof against time and must always hold promi- nence in emotional poetry. Nearly a century previously Pope wrote of a poet of his day : "And Ireland, mother of sweet singers, Presents her harp still to his fingers." Could he however have returned to life he would have been astonished to see how much more ap|)licable these lines are to Moore than to the now forgotteu Southern. Early Incidents. John Moore a Dublin tradesman had been married but a year when his Mdfe, who was but eighteen, presented him with the infant bard. The family was respectable, the parents were ambitious, and the boy was as soon as possible sent to a first class school. At thirteen he de- livered a "piece" at the public exhibition, being styled "Master Moore," and was even then gifted in both reci- tation and song. In fact he was almost a prodigy, since his talents were in such contrast with his diminutive size. He was " little Thomas," but such was his popularity as a speaker tluit he was already one of the Dublin charac- ters. This "little Thomas," whose stature never ex- ceeded five feet, became a graduate of the university and soon won a reputation for poetry. At fourteen, in- deed he had appeared in print, and his effusions thence- -^ Tom Mooke. 73 forth were marked by decided promise. The next step in progress is the transition to London, where, if means could be obtained, he was to enter the Temple as a student of law. Moore, however, did not visit London as a mere adventurer. How different indeed his reception there from that of another Irish genius — the unfortunate Gold- smith? Hecamo with such a prestige as gave him the entree of the highest circles, where he soon became a favorite. His first volume was published when he was but twenty- two, and seldom has such brilliant success been so early achieved. lie writes thus to his mother: "I assure you I am six feet high. The new edition will soon be out, and will be got up very handsomely. What do you think — young Lord Forbes and another young nobleman dine with me to-morrow." Moore's next appearance as an author was like that of many others, with a pen name, and in view of his small size he styled himself " Thomas Little." It was of this volume that Byron, seven years afterward, wrote in his famous satire : "Tis Little, young Catullus of his day; As sweet but as immoral as his lay." Byron also adds the following personal reference with- out regard to the disguise of a pen name : "Let Moore be lewd, let Strangford steal from Moore, And swear Camoens wrote such strains before." Moore was justly censured for his lack of delicacy and his later effusions were free from this blemish. Thence- forth, he was one of the most popular of songsters, and his gems are still cherished by all true lovers of poetry. Moore in America. In 1804, two years after the publication of poems by Thomas Little, America welcomed the most gifted foreign author that had ever visited our shores. He was in his 10 74 Our Book. twenty-fifth year — full of enthusiasm and poetic fire, and how unfit must New York have been to entertain the brilliant stranger ! The population was not more than one-thirtieth its present number, and it had neither music, literature nor the drama, except in the most limited degree. Our nation, indeed had not, up to that time, produced a first-class author, since neither Joel Barlow nor Charles Brockden Brown can be entitled to such rank. The latter had attracted attention by his novels, but he was a Phila- delphian, and New York tlien had no writer, for even Irving was unknown. The latter, indeed, had just sailed for Europe, both to improve his health and to see the world, and being only twenty-one had hardly any expec- tations of either legal or literary success. Under such circumstances the poet could hardly be other than dis- gusted with a comnmnity which had but one public theme — politics — for which he cared nothing. At that very time however John Davis made his American tour, but being a sensible London printer he found no fault with those defects that the poet censured. Davis' travels indeed are a marked contrast with Moore's letters. American hotels and other accommodations for travelers naturally repelled the favorite of London's best society, and this explains his j^ungent ridicule of our institutions. If it be inquired what brought the young poet hither, the reply is as follows : The sensation he had made in the literary world had won the patronage of an influential nobleman (Lord Moira), who had procured him a berth under the government. As literature was not self-sup- porting, such an appointment was highly desirable for a penniless poet. The ofiice was at Bermuda but it proved unsatifr. factory, and the poet having left it to a deputy was about to return home. It may be added that the deputy Tom Moobe. 75 proved a defaulter, and the Bermuda office, from which much had been expected, proved a protracted misfortune. Moore came from Bermuda to New York, in order to procure trans-Atlantic passage, and while here determined to visit a few scenes of specialin teres t. lie was the first British author that saw Niagara Falls, and his emotions show that nature, not society, awoke his admiration. He visited Washington, which then was a settlement not ten years old, and the unfinished state of society jarred upon a young aristocrat who had been a favorite even in court circles. The way he traveled presents some con- trast with the facilities of the present day. He writes to his mother as follows, dated Baltimore, June 13, 1804: '* Such a road as I have come and such a conveyance ! The mail takes twelve passengers which generally consist of squalling children, stinking negroes and repul)licans smoking cigars. How often it has occurred to me that nothing can be more emblematic of the government of this country than its stages, filled with a motley mixture, all " hail fellow well met," driving through mud and filth and risking an upset at every step! God comfort their capacities! As soon as I am away from them both the stages and the government may have the same fate for all I care." These flings at the government may be explained by the fact that hardly twenty-one years had elapsed since the close of that war which had so humbled the British flag. He, therefore, shows the power of that bitter prejudice which was so generally directed against all that was American. British Satire. On his return (1806) Moore published a volume of mis- cellaneous effusions which he dedicated to the nobleman who had given him his appointment, and in the preface he says, "though prudence might have dictated gentler language, truth would have justified severer." He also says in the same connection that what he saw " represses every sanguine hope of the future energy and greatness of 76 Our Book. America." While at Washington the poet addressed a rhyming epistle to a London friend, in which, among other disconsolate utterances, I find the following : e'en now "While yet on Columbia's rising brow, The showy smile of young presumption plays Her bloom is poisoned and her heart decays. Even now in dawn of life her sickly breath Burns with the taint of empires near tlieir death." Another epistle addressed to a friend of different name, contains an equally unfavorable sketch: This fam'd metropolis where fancy sees Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees ; Which traveling fools and gazetteers adorn, "With shrines unbuilt and heroes yet unborn, Though naught but woods and swamps they see, "Where streets should run and sages ought to be." The poet also invites his friend to accompany him (in spirit at least) during his American tour : *' O'er lake and marsh, tlirough fevers and through fogs, 'Jtfidst bears and Yankees, democrats and frogs." Prose Sketch. In a note to one of these letters Moore writes thus : "The federal city (if it must l)e called a city) has not much in-t creased since Weld visited it. Most of the public buildings, which were then in some degree of forwardness, have been utterly sus- pended. The hotel is already a ruin and a great i)art of its roof has fallen in. The president's house (a very noble structure) is by no means suited to the philosophic humility of its present oc- cupant, who inhabits but a corner himself and abandons the rest to a state of uncleanly desolation. The private buildings display the same arrogant, speculative and premature ruin, and the few ranges of houses which were begun some years ago have remained so long unfinished that they are now for the most part dilapidated. On a small hill near the capitol there is to be an equestrian statue of "Washington." Such is the picture drawn by the first professional lit- erateur that visited our capital. Could Moore be re- stored to life he would find in the Washington monu- ment a loftier height than architectural genius has ever Tom Moore. Y7 elsewhere attained, and in tlie Sojithsonian Institute lie would behold a striking instance of British regard for American institutions. The poet remained a sufficient time in Philadelphia to form an enduring friendship, which he honors by one of his prettiest poems, and thence he came to New York and ascended the Hudson in a sloop. A letter to his mother, dated Saratoga, July 10, ISO-i, contains the following sketch : "The country round here seems the very home of the sav- ages. Nothing but tall forests of pine, to which a narrow road with difficulty winds its way, and yet this is the water- ing-place for ladies and gentlemen from all parts of the United States." lie speaks of being " stowed into a miserable boarding-house, whose guests were smoking and drinking the waters. They were astonished at our ask- ing for basins and towels for ourselves, and thought we ought to come down to the jDublic wash-stand along with the other gentlemen." How strange does this sound when contrasted with the Saratoga of to-day ! Notwithstanding the prejudices expressed in some of liis letters to London friends, he could not supjjress in his home correspondence a con- sciousness of our national importance. lie admits that he saw signs of future national greatness, and WTote to his mother of " this very interesting world, which, not- withstanding the defects and disgusting peculiarities of its natives, gives every promise of no distant competition with the first i)owers of the Eastern hemisphere." Mooee's j\'Tarriage. The poet proceeded from Niagara to Halifax, and reached home after a short passage, having been absent a year. He resumed London life, and at twenty-seven was 78 Our iBooK. one of the most popular societ}'^ men in the British me- tropolis, lie was not only the favorite of the aristocracy, but had even been noticed by the prince regent. It was, therefore, expected by his friends that he would im- prove his social and literary position by a splendid mar- riage. What, then, must have been the surprise of Lon- don society, and what the distress of his j^arents, who still lived in Dublin, when it was announced that the most brilliant poet of the day had become the husband of an inferior actress. Thomas Moore and Bessie Dyke ! Who would have thought it? The bride's history is involved in obscurity. If, however, she never made a name on the boards, it is evident that she never was contaminated by the vices which so often stain the drama. Disappointing as such a match must have been to an ambitious family, the union proved one of the happiest in the literary record. True, Bessie always felt the infe- riority of her early position, and hence never entered that society which welcomed her husband, but it is evident that the latter never met a greater attraction. Their con- jugal life was one of tender affection and sympathy, and Bessie not only proved a cheerful companion and a faith- ful mother, but also watched with untiring devotion over the decay of her husband. Moore's diary for thirty years invariably refers to Bessie in the highest terms, and it is evident that she was one of the noblest of her sex. It was a peculiar feature in her character that she shrank from high life and declined being patronized. On one occasion an aristocratic lady wrote to Moore " to come and bring along his little wife." The remark of the latter on hear- ing the message was " the little wife will remain at home." Moore and Byron. The strongest literary friendship of that day existed between these men, and yet it began under the very MooKE AND Byron. 79 shadow of a duel. I have already referred to Byron's lampoon on Muore's maiden volume, but this was accom- panied by allusions of a still more pungent character. The "hostile meeting" between Moore and Jeffrey afforded another sul)ject for Byron's caustic wit. Jeffrey had criticised Moore's poems with his usual severity, and the latter was disposed to retaliate by a challenge, but was, as he admits, too poor to travel to Edinburgh for that purpose. Jeffrey however, soon afterward came to London, and a duel was then arranged. The parties met early one summer morning, but before a shot could be fired they were seized by the police which had been secreted for the purpose. The field of honor was immedi- ately changed into a theme of ridicule, and botli combat- ants were held to bail. To this affair Byron refers in those pungent lines beginning " Health to great Jeffrey : " "Can none remember that eventful day, That ever glorious, almost fatal fray, When Little's leadless pistol met his eye. And Bow street myrmidons stood laughing by? The above was leveled at JeflVey, but of course included Moore who was full of pluck, and would not be the butt of a " rhyming peer." lie, therefore, called Byron's attention to the offensive lines in a letter, which mio;ht have led to a challenge. Byron however, disclaimed all intention of reflecting on personal character. The result was that the two poets met at Rogers' and formed a life- long friendship. Byron wrote more letters to Moore than to any other of his correspondents, and he also committed to him his autobiographic memoirs to be published after death. Wlien the latter occurred however, the volume was suppressed by Lady Byron who paid £2,000 for this privilege. Moore and Byron could agree better than poets generally, since their difference in style prevented any rivalry. 80 Odk Book. Byron knew that liis life would be written by some one and he designated Moore to this task, adding " 1 have a strong presentiment tliat you will outlive me. The difference of a few years in our age is nothing." Such proved to be the case, and Moore was one of the last survivors of that limited circle which could boast of acquaintance with the author of Childe Harold. In obedience to Byron's request he wrote his biography, which naturally was influenced by friendship. Impar- tiality indeed under such circumstances was not to be expected. FoREiGK Life. Pending the settlement of his Bermuda troubles Moore was obliged to leave London to avoid arrest, and one of the most interesting scenes which occurred during this exile was his re-union with Byron in Venice. It was of brief duration and was never renewed. Moore could not but notice that Byron had worsened during his residence in Italy, and had also acquired a reckless method of utter- ance, which was shown by such remarks as this : " Moore, what do you think of Shakespeare? I think him a hum- bug." He also noticed, as did others, that Byron was deteriorating in genius as well as in morals. Byron soon introduced him to the Countess Giuccioli, and made no secret of the nature of their intimacy. At Paris Moore became acquainted with Irving, who was his junior by four years, and this led to a friendship only sundered by death. Moore was then living with great economy, which was one of Bessie's virtues, and Irving describes the pleasant scenes which marked their simple method of housekeeping, Moore was one of tlie best paid authors, received £3,000 for Lalla Kookh, and his receipts from other productions in all amounted to seven times that sura, but his latter days Mooke's Misfortune. '81 were shadowed by poverty as well as by bereavement. The latter includes the loss of his deeply beloved sisters, and also his daughters Anastasia and Barbara. In addi- tion to this was the overwhemling blow which came in his old age, the death of his sons, one of whom (named after himself) found a grave in a far-distant land. Moore, in fact, not only survived his parents and all their family, but all of his own except the faithful Bessie, Who that saw Tom Moore in his palmy days, when he was the chief attraction in many a brilliant re- union, could have fore- cast such a history ? But alas, how often is this the fate of genius! Moore lived for nearly thirty years in " Sloperton Co*^- tage," where he finished his days on the 26th of Febru- ary, 1852, being in his seventy-third year. He had suf- fered two years of mental paralysis, and hence death was only to be viewed as a relief. He was buried in the neighboring church-yard beside the graves of his four children. Thirteen years afterward Bessie was placed by those she so tenderly loved and so faithfully cherished. It was said of Moore, by one who knew him well, that amid the pleasures of the world he had preserved all his home affections. Moore indeed was of an overflowing dispo- sition, and his letters, like his poetry are full of soul. He wrote to his mother twice a week, and this corre- spondence breathes an ardor of filial affection which warms the reader with sympathy. It was no doubt, this enthusiasm of friendship which awoke the admiration of Byron, and to no other human being did the latter write with such entire freedom. As there can never be but one Byron, so there can never be but one Tom Moore. The first has a higher rank in point of genius, but the latter though his greatest efforts are no longer read, will always hold the heart by his songs, and the Last Hose of 11 82 Our Book. Sammer and tlie Meeting of the Waters will be sung as long as emotional sentiment is cherished. LiTKRARY Sisters. Tlie histor}' of those remarkable sisters — Charlotte, Emily and Anno Bronte — illustrates in a very interest- ing manner, the risks of authorship. They lived with their father in a secluded hamlet in the north of England, and being desirous of issuing a volume of poems, wrote to a publishing house and arranged to have the book printed at the authors' expense. The volume fell dead from the press, and the girls remitted the bill, which was equal to about $250. This was a heavy loss but it was borne without complaint. These poems weie published as the production of three brothers — Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell — and the best notice which they received was accorded to the poems of Ellis (Emily) wdio was consid- ered by Charlotte the most gifted of the family. The ambitious sisters determined to continue their efforts notwithstanding this failure. Charlotte had writ- ten a novel which she sent to a publisher, who returned it. She then sent it successively to six other houses, each of which declined it. While this work was going the rounds Charlotte began Jane Eyre, which she determined to make more sensational, and she succeeded far beyond her expectations. The MSS. was sent to the house of Smith, Elder & Co., and was published at their risk. I need hardly add that it had a ready sale. Later on the author and her sister Anne went to Lon- don to see the publishers, and the latter were astonished to behold two diminutive young women, clad in dress of rural simplicity, representing so popular a book. Char- lotte had Smith, Elder & Co.'s business correspondence as a proof of her identity, and this removed all doubt. LiTEKARY Sisters. 83 Then for the first time, the publishers learned that Cur- rer Bell, whom they supposed to be a man, was a delicate girl, whose opportunities to study society had been of a very limited character. Prior to the Brontes, though hardly equal in literary rank, were the sisters Sophia and Harriet Lee, who held distinc- tion in London authorship) during the early part of the pres- ent century. They wrote both novels and plays, but their best mutual production was the once poj3ular Canterbui-y Tales. From one of these — Kreuitzner — Byron drew the plan and also the details of his tragedy of Werner. He acknowledges, in the preface, his debt to tlicse gifted sis- ters, who were gratified to assist the greatest poet of the age. The Porters. Another literary family of much brighter fortune is found in the sisters Jane and Anna Porter, whose gifted brother added much to their position. The sisters were successful novelists, and the brother became an artist, a soldier and a diplomat, being known in history as Sir Robert Ker Porter. It may be added in order to show how a fortunate selection of a subject may assist an author, that while Anna Porter's novels are forgotten, her sister's still hold a place in literature, because the theme retains a power over the younger portion of tlie reading public. I allude, of course, to Thaddeus of Warsaw and the Scottish Chiefs. The Davidsons. Plattsburg is Justly proud of the memory of Lucretia and Margaret Davidson. The first was born in 1808. She wrote verses in early childhood, and one of her pro- ductions at nine is still preserved. Before her sixteenth year she had written more than three hundred pieces, many of which were deemed worthy of publication. 84 OuK Book. Sucli early brain activity was too exhausting for a delicate frame, and she died in her seventeenth year. Her sister Margaret, who was also a literary prodigy, died at fifteen. It is a sufficient proof of the rank held by this gifted pair that Irving honored them with a brief memoir. Warners and Carys. The Warner sisters — Susan and Anna — though not recluse were very retiring. Hence but little is known of their personal characteristics. Their works, however, hold distinction in American literature, and the Wide Wide World was, with but one exception, the most popu- lar novel of its day. Much more is known of the melo- dious sisters Alice and Phebe Gary, who for more than twenty years were numbered among the New York literati, and who gradually rose from poverty to compe- tence by their poetic offerings. The Carys wei*e natives of Ohio, their Iiome being so sequestered as to afford but few advantages. Their early struggles were such as are common to the children of genius, and they were at first glad to see their poems in a country newspaper. Alice began writing at eighteen and Phebe was still younger when her first efforts attracted attention. In 1849, when Alice was twenty -nine and Phebe was four years younger, their first combined effort appeared in a volume of poems. Two years afterward they removed to New York and entered the field of literature in which they gradually won distinction. Eventually their house was a popular resort for literary characters and their reception evenings were a favorite resort for Horace Greeley whenever he could steal away from his engagements. The greatest work, however, in which these sisters were engaged was the establishment of Authors' Loicgevity. 85 Sorosis, the woman's club, which still flourishes and is a noble gathering of the best elements in the sex. The Gary sisters retained their distinction to the last, and what seems very remarkable they both died the same year, and six months from the time Alice was laid to rest in Greenwood, Phebe was laid by her side. Greater Longevity. Notwithstanding the frequent instances of early death among female authors, it is still evident that brain workers of that sex have, as a class reached more than average age and have had a full share of health and happiness. Here are a few instances from the records of the old world. Grace Aguilar died at thirty-one ; Miss Landon, the once popular L. E. L., married Captain MacLean and accom- panied her husband to the coast of Africa where she died in her thirty-sixth year ; Jane Taylor died at forty and Mrs. Hemans was a year older; Jane Austen was forty- two ; Mrs. Shelley was fifty-three and Charlotte Elizabeth fifty-four ; the Countess of Blessington was sixty ; Fred- erika Bremer, sixty-four; Mrs. Inchbald, sixty-seven; Miss Mitford, sixtj'^-nine ; while Jane Porter and Mrs. Ilofland were each seventy -four ; Mrs. Sherwood reached seventy-seven and Regina Maria Roche was eighty ; Lady Morgan, Mrs. Barbauld, Mrs. Piozzi and Miss Edgeworth each died at eighty-two ; Hannah Moore and Madame D'Arblay both Avere eighty-eight, and Joanna Baillie, eighty-nine ; Elizabeth Carter died at ninety, and Miss Caroline Herschell, the astronomer, only lacked two years of a full century. Taking a few names from the Ameri- can record : Maria Brooks, whom Southey admired, was fifty; Helen Hunt, fifty-five and Louisa Alcott, fifty-six ; Mrs. Parton (Fanny Fern) was sixty-one ; Mrs. Sigourney, seventy -four ; Hannah F. Gould, seventy- 86 Our Book. seven, while both Hannah Adams and Mrs. Sedgewick reached seventy-eight; Juha Ward Howe is sixty-nine; Mrs. Stowe is now seventy-six, and her sister Catharine was spared till four-score. Joel Baelow. The first book published on this continent after the close of the revolution was Watts' Psalms, edited by Joel Barlow, which was issued in Hartford in 1785. Barlow was then thirty. He was a native of Connecticut, and had studied at Yale, where in 1778 he delivered a poem entitled the Prospect of Peace. His poetic talents had already attracted notice, and this led the clergy to request that he should prepare an edition of Watts for public worship. He also edited a weekly paper in Hart- ford called the American Mercury, but afterward added law to literature. He had however, already contemplated what he considered his great poem, The Columbiad. This was not completed until the lapse of twenty years, but its inception was given in the Vision of Columbus, which was published the year our government was formed. Pursuing this reminiscence, it may be added that Bar- low went to Europe soon after issuing the Yision, and was the first American author that visited Great Britain after the close of the war. He sympathized with the French re\olutionists, to whom he rendered some diplo- matic service, and on his return in 1805 he was the best- informed American on the subject of foreign affairs. He was then fifty, and his ripe experience rendered him highly useful to the general government. He made Washington his abode and erected an elegant house. Two years afterward his great work. The Columbiad, appeared. It was published in Philadelphia and was the most costly book which, up to that time, had ever been Joel Barlow. 87 issued in tliis country. It was dedicated to Robert Fulton, of steamboat fame, and was graced by a portrait of the author, together with eleven copper-plate illustrations executed in London. The author expected that this work would permanently retain its distinction as the greatest of American poems. It was read and admired, but hke many other works of temporary value it gradually sank out of sight, and it is not probable that another edition will ever be printed. Its prophecy of future development is one of its mt»st striking features, of which the following is an instance : " From Mohawk's mouth far westing with the sun, Through all the woodlands recent channels run. Tap the redundant lakes, the broad hills brave, And marry Hudson with Missouri's wave. From dim Superior, whose unfathomed sea Drinks the mild splendor of tiie setting day, New paths unfolding lead their watery pride, And towns and empires rise along their side. To Mississippi's source tlie passes bend And to the broad Pacific main extend." How wonderfully tliis prophecy has been fultilled dur- ing the eighty years of interval ! The Columbiad at once gave Barlow national dis- tinction, and this led him to project a full history of the country, but his plans were broken by the call to diplo- matic service. Madison needed an ambassador to France, and there was no one so well adapted to this service as Joel Barlow. On reaching Paris he found that the dream of liberty and its bloody frenzy had given place to the still more bloody despotism of Napoleon. He beheld the march of the deluded conqueror to Moscow with an army of nearly half a million, so few of whom ever returned. Four months afterward came the sad tidings of the fail- ure of the expedition, accompanied by a request from Napoleon that Barlow should meet him at "Wilna. His object was never published, but it is probable that he 88 OuK Book. wished to obtain troops from America to renew an army sacrificed to liis ambition. The Last Scene in Life. Barlow obeyed Napoleon's request and, attended by his private secretary, hastened to the appointed spot, but the expected meeting never took place. The exposure of the journey and the wretched condition of the Polisli inns reduced his health, and on the 22d of December, 1812, he died of pneumonia near Cracow, where he lies in an obscure grave. His last days were saddened by scenes of horror, for he beheld the wretched remnant of Napoleon's army perishing by frost and famine on the borders of Poland. These scenes gave his genius its last inspiration, and being unable to use the pen, he dictated the most tremendous indictment which the poetic muse ever delivered against the imperial tyrant. It is called Advice to a Raven, and closes with the hope of "Earth's total vengeauce on the monster's head." Hasty Pudding. This is a mucli better poem than the Vision of Colum- bus because it shows how a simple theme can be treated in a poetic manner. It was written con amove as may be seen from the following extract : "My father loved thee through his length of days; For thee his fields were shaded o'er with maize; Thy constellation ruled my natal morn ; And all my bones were made of Indian corn. Delicious grain whatever form it take, To roast or boil, to smother, or to bake ; In every dish 'tis welcome still to me ; But most, my hasty pudding, most in thee." A very interesting feature in the history of this poem is the fact that it was written in Europe. Barlow was one of the earliest American visitors thither after the revolu- Joel Barlow. 89 tion, and of course, he missed his favorite dish. What- ever might be the treasures of Paris, there was no hasty pudding, and he indignantlj^ exclaims : "For thee through Paris — that corrupted town — How long in vain I wandered up and down. " No doubt this sharpened appetite assisted inspiration, for on reaching Savoy he found a family which had brouglit the meal from America and knew how to cook it. Hence he says : "Dear hasty pudding, what unpromised joy Expands my heart to meet tliee in Savoy! My soul is soothed, my cares have found an end In thee my lost but not forgotten friend. Yes, here, though distant from our native shore, With mutual glee we meet and laugli once more." Hasty Pudding is a national and also a pliilanthropic poem, and the author, to show his earnestness in an at- tempt to dignify a plebeian dish, dedicated it to Mrs. AVashington. He gives as a reason that he desires her influence to combat vicious tastes (in cookery) and to re- store simplicity of diet, and he adds : " I had hopes of doing some good, or I should not have taken the pains of putting so many rhymes together — or ventured to place your name at their head." Barlow was one of the first to notice the bad effect of modern cookery, which awoke the following lament : "To mix the food by vicious rules of art, To kill the stomach and to sink the heart: For this the kitchen muse first framed her book, Conunanding sweets from every artful cook. Children no more their antic gambols tried, And friends to physic wondered why they died." To "sink the heart" of course refers to dyspepsia, which is one of the cornmon consequences of artificial living, and the improving nature of Barlow's favorite dish is suggested in the following couplet : " To shield the morals while it mends the size, And ail tlie powers of every food supplies." 13 90 Our Book. How impressive indeed is the contrast between modern luxury and tlie privations elieerfully endured by tlie Pil- grims as given in :i liulliid of that day : "If fresh meat be wanting to fill up the dish, We have carrots and turnips as mueli as we wish: We have pumpkins at morning and pumpkins at noon, If it was not for pumpkins we should be undone. If barley be wanting to nuike into malt, We must be contented to think it no fault. For we can make liquor to sweeten our lips, Of pumpkins and parsnips and walnut tree chips." What a patched up set the colonists must have been ! " And now our garments begin to grow thin. And wool is much wanted to card and to spin: If we can get a garment to cover without, Our other in garments are clout upon clout. Our clothes we brought with us are apt to be torn; They need to be clouted soon after they're worn : liut clouting our garments they hinder us nothing. Clouts double are warmer than single whole clothing." Another striking picture is given in a poem written by Benjamin Thompson a half century later: "The times when old Pumpkin was a saint, When men fared hardly, yet without complaint, The dainty Indian maize Was eat with clam shells out of wooden traya. Under thatched lints, without cry of rent, And the best sauce to every dish, content: 'I'hen times were good, merchants cared not a rush For other fare than jonakin and mush." Jonakin (the original of johnny cake) and mush, would now hardly be attractive fare, but what a sturdy race was bred upon it! No wonder Joel Barlow sang its praise. Little survives of Barlow's epics, but in Hasty Pudding he gives us the " man of straw," and who has not heard that term nsed to represent the shams of the day ? It is introduced when speaking of the scarecrow. "The feathered robber with his hungry maw, Swift flies tl»e field before your man of utratc." Book Making. 91 Modern bibliomania originated in Holland more tlian a century after the invention of printing, and was no doubt due to the taste exhibited by the Elzevirs. This famous family of printers flourished from 15vS0 to a century later, and their publications naturally improved with increased experience. From Holland the mania spread to England. Its growth however, was im])eded by the civil wars, so that its influence was not felt before the days of Pope. He was the flrst writer to make any allusion to a feature which was so powerful both in Sir Hans Sloane and the Earl of Harley. This rage for old volumes led Pope to pen the following pungent couplet : " Authors, like coins, grow rare, as they grow old; It is the rust we value, not the gold." This indeed, is the rule which generally controls the book collector. No matter what the subject be if the volume only has the merit of age and rarity. Sometimes bibliomaniacs confine themselves to special- ties. For instance. Poulard of France spent a large sum gathering the varied editions of Racine, and James Lenox devoted much time and money to his collection of Pibles. Another speciaHst was Dr. Douglas of London, who ex- hibited an insatiable passion for the works of Horace. He eventually owned specimens of every edition which had been issued of this famous poet, and also every trans- lation and critical commentary. Douglas was an excel- lent physician whose rich fees enabled him to thus indulge his peculiar taste. No other classic shared his affection. He was simply under an Horatian madness, and there- fore gathered all the lumber that came under this caption to the extent of nearly 500 volumes. Gibbon, on the other hand, though a man of great learning and a life-long student, only loved books for their contents. He mentions in his autobiography the 02 OuK Book. pleasure with wliich he exchanged a twenty pound note for as many vohimes of an instructive cliaracter, but he adds that he bought no book except for its sohd vahie. Costly Books. The most costly literary undertaking ever attempted by a single individual was the Aborigines of Mexico, published by Lord Kingsborough, at an expense equal to $170,000. It is in seven immense volumes, with one thousand illustrations of the finest character. The num- ber of copies issued was limited to fifty, and many of these were presented to the most important public libra- ries of Europe. A copy of this wonderful book is in the Philadelphia library. Lord Kingsborough was an enthusiast on this subject, and like all enthusiasts he went to a ridiculous extreme. He gratified his taste at the expense of all other interests. The cost was greater than either his expectations or his resources. He was involved in law, and after many vexa- tious suits he finished his course in a Dublin jail. John Boydell, of London, assisted by Nichols, spent a large fortune in publishing fine books. They invested £350,000 in perfecting printing and engraving, and they sunk in their Shakespeare gallery £100,000, equal to a half million of dollars. Audubon's Birds is the most costly book ever published in America, each copy being origi- nally priced at $700. The pictures are of natural size, and the artist spent the largest part of his life in the work. At the sale of A. T. Stewart's books a copy of Audubon's Birds sold for $1,350; another has recently been sold at $2,450. The plates are still in existence, but it is not probable that another edition will be printed. One book alone is on record as being printed in an edi- tion of one copy. This is a history of the house of Kiis- Book Making. 93 sell, including elaborate portraits of all its peers. It cost 3,000 guineas, and was placed in the library of "Woburn Abbey, wlicre the duke resides, with orders never to be removed. The edition of the Greek Testament, pub- lished by Erasmus, at Basle in 1519, was very limited, and all have been lost except one copy, wliich is in the cathedral at York. An offer of 5,000 guineas for this literary curiosity has been refused. A beautiful co})y of Owen Jones's Alhambra was ex- hibited at the Crystal Palace in New York in 1852. It was bound by Matthews, then the best binder in America, whose bill was $500, and it may be considered a moderate charge, as the woi'k required six months. It is the most costly specimen of binding in this country. Some men have a passion for collecting Bibles. There are two hundred copies in the Astor library of different editions, which one might think a sufficient variety, but the late Duke of Sussex had six thousand different edi- tions of the Bible (or of portions of it), which is the largest collection of the kind in existence. These collec- tions are generally dispersed after their owner's death. If any man wishes to keep liis collection from a general breaking up, he must like James Lenox, devise it to some institution where it will have permanent care. Among other collectors of rare works was Robert Har- ley Earl of Oxford, who flourished during the reign of Queen Anne. Ilis library is now one of the treasures of the British Museum, and a selection from his manuscripts forms what is called tlie Ilarleian Miscellan}'. This selection was made by Henry Oldys, who was the most remarkable book- worm of that day. In 1737 he pub- lished the British Librarian, an Abstract of Our Most Scarce and Valuable Works, and thus did much to create a ta=te for antique literature. Dr. Johnson wrote the 91 OuK Book. preface of the Harleian Miscellany, which is now an im- portant feature in all first-class libraries. Book Yalues. There was a time when a book was almost a fortune. It is said that one of the Saxon kings gave eight hundred acres of land for a single volume — in manuscript of course — for there was no printing then. The first printed volume the Bihlia Pauperum^ or Poor man's Bible, which was done by letters engraved on blocks of wood. It contains about thirty pages of text and is supposed to have been printed before 1400, since movable types were invented in 1437. In 1274 a Bible in vellum in nine volumes was sold at a price equal to more than eight thousand days' work of a laborer. One of the finest vellum Bibles is the copy presented by his preceptor to Charlemagne after the latter had learned to read — being then forty-five. In universities books were formerly loaned on a deposit ensuring their return, and at Oxford the Bible was frequently borrowed on these conditions. The oldest manuscript book in our language is the con- fessions of Richard Earl, of Cambridge, which bears date 1415, and the earliest ballad is the cuckoo song, which begins thus : "Sumer is icutnen in, Lbude sing cuccu ; Groweth red and bloweth med And springth ye wode nu Singe cuccu," Among the first books printed in our language is the Recuyell of the Historye of Troye, issued by Caxton in 1471, a copy of which is in the Lenox library. The demand for so great a curiosity may be judged from the fact that while iu 1756 a copy sold at nine pounds, the Book Making. 95 next sale, which took place in 1812, reached £1,000, and recently another sale was made at £1,820, equal to $9,100. A copy of Bocaecio''s Decameron, also published in 1471, recently sold for £2,260. Lenox Treasures. James Lenox was a life-time making his collection, and a student would require almost an equal period to fully muster its contents. The gem of the collection, of course, is the Mazzarin Bible, the first book printed with mova-. ble types. Though issued without date, there is proof that it appeared before 1456. It was printed at Mayence and is in two volumes containing 1282 pages. There are fifteen copies of this work in existence, some printed on ])aper and others on vellum, which are much more val- uable. The Lenox copy is in vellum, and is, in other respects, one of the best. The ink is jet black, and the impression is clear. The type is German text, and the language is Latin. Its value is $17,000, The Lenox library contains three thousand Bibles, one of which, printed at Nuremberg in 1467, has Melanc- thon's autograph. Another is the firot Bible that has a date, the time and place being Mcntz, 1462. There is also a copy of the Biblia Pauperum, printed from blocks before 1400. The total number of Bibles and parts of the Bible is 3500. Another rare volume is the Bay Psalm Book, the first volume printed in America, and worth $1,000 ; and to this is added Eliot's Indian Bible, which has been sold for $1,340. There is a copy of the first Homer, printed in Florence in 1488, and also one of Dante's Divine Comraedia, dated twenty-four years earlier. The rare and curious editions of Shakespeare give the Lenox peculiar distinction, since in this specialty it has 96 Our Book. no equal in America. One may behold not only the first collected edition published in 1623, but also editions of single plays issued during the author's life-time, which is very clear proof that Bacon made no claim to their authorship. One of these has the following title page : "The Tragedie of King Richard the third containing his treach- erous plot against his brother Clarence and the pittyfull murther of tlie innocent nephew his tyranical Vsurpation with the whole account of his detested life and deserved death As hath been lately acted by the Kings Majesties servants newly augmented by William Shakespeare London printed by Thomas Credie and are to be sold by Matthew Lowe at St. Pauls church yard 1612." This copy is valued at $2,000, and was obtained by Lenox with great difiiculty many years ago. At present it would not be easy to replace it at any price. Gray and Gay were contemporary poets and yet how different ! Gray sang of those " far from the madding crowds ignoble strife," while Gay rhymed on the Streets of London and their madding crowds. " Trivia" seems a strange name for such a poem, but the word means the goddess of streets and also the meeting of three roads, from wliich we have the word " trivial," i. e. mere street talk. Gay gives a view of street life in the days of Pope and Addison — miserable indeed when contrasted with the present. "Trivial" as a derivation from the streets, is no more remote than " scrupulous," which originally means a stone in one's shoe, or " bead," \vhich means a prayer, and these instances show in how strange a manner derivations oceasionallv arise. Literary Frauds. One of the most remarkable books in the Astor is the volume on Formosa, by George Psalmanazar. It is the earliest literary fraud, at least of any extent, and its com- bination of audacity and skill for a time commanded cre- dence, but the imposture was soon suspected, and cventu- Book Making. 97 aiij the author confessed. The book is gotten up in a style Avhieh, at that time, was verj' elegant, and is illus- trated by copper- j)late engraviogs of an elaborate and ex- pensive character. It is highly probable that the success of this fictitious narrative led Swift to write Gulliver's Travels, in which he found such a ready medium for his wit. To return to Psalmanazar, it is evident that this char- latan possessed more than usual talent, and though a for- eigner he wrote good English. He also gave samples of the Formosan language, which displayed no little inge- nuity, and upon the whole, he was one of the remarka- ble men of that day. The title of the book is as follows : ''An Historical and Geographical Description of Formosa — An Island subject to the Empire of Japan. " Second edition corrected, with many large and usefull additions, particularly a new preface, clearly answering every thing that has been objected against the author and the book. By George Psal- manazar, a native of the Island. London, 1704. Published by Bernard Lintot." Psalmanazar died in 1763, leavihgaMS. autobiography, with the following title : " Memoirs of , commonly known by the name of George Psalmanazar, a reputed native of Formosa." He also left the following will : "Last will and testament of me a poor, sinful and worthless creature, commonly known by the assumed name of George Psalmanazar, I desire my body to be conveyed to the common burying ground and there interred in some obscure corner and in the lowest and cheapest manner in a shell. " The principal manuscript I leave behind isa faithful narrative of my education and the various ways I was led to the base and shameful imposture of passing on the world for a native of Formosa and backing it with a ficticious account of that island, and of my travels and conversion — all or most of it hatched out of my own brain without regard to truth or honesty. It is true I have long since disclaimed even publicly all but the shame and guilt of that vile imposition, yet as long as I knew that there wero still two editions of that scandalous romance remaining in Eng- land I thought it incumbent to undeceive the world by a posthu- mous work, which was begun 25 years ago. 13 98 Our Book. "If it be worth printing I desire it to be sold to the highest bidder in order to pay arrears for my lodging and defray my funeral. It will be found in the deep drawer on the right hand of my white cabinet." Sample of Formosan Language. Psalmanazar's ingenuity in inventing a language is certainly wonderful and being called on for a sample he gave the following as the Lord's Prayer. " KOREAKA VOMERA, "Amy pornio dau chin ornio vrey guay jorhe sai lony sysodore sai bagalin jorhe sai domion apo chin ornio kay chin bodi eyen amy khat sodi nadakchion toye ant naday Kay donye ant amy sochin apo ant radonem amy soch takhin bagne ant kai chin malabooski ah abinaye ant twen broskasy kens sai vie bogalin kay faiy kay barhani chinania sen ly Amien." Personal Facts. The history of this man is so peculiar that it may be said to stand alone in the chronicles of literature. The facte may be given as follows : In 1704, five years before tlie birth of Johnson, and while Swift, Addison and Pope were rising men, there appeared in London a clergyman named Innes. He had just come from Holland, bringing with him a mysterious young man of oriental birth, who through his efforts had been converted from heathen- ism to Christianity. The zeal and labors displayed by Innes so impressed the bishop of London that he gave him a handsome benefice as a mark of approval. The young convert was visited by the clergy and other men of learning, to whom he unfolded a strange and moving history. He told them (in broken English) that ne was a native of the far-distant island of Formosa, '.vliere his father (whose name was Psalmanazar) held high rank. He had been induced to abscond from home by a Koman priest named Do Rode, and they escaped in an open boat, whence they took passage in a homeward* Book Making. 99 bound ship. When asked the name of the latter the stranger confessed his ignorance. He said he was not then aware that ships had names, and as his guide kept liira from mingling with the crew, he had no chance to learn. On arriving at Gibraltar the priest left the vessel and took the youth to France, where an attempt was made to convert him to Romanism. He objected to this and was at last led to fear that violence and penalty might be the con- sequence of his obduracy. lie therefore escaped at night and made his way to Holland, where he was pressecJ into the army. There he met the zealous Innes, by whom he was led to accept Christianity. He then related to the latter his marvelous history, and Innes procured his re- lease in order to bring him to London. Psalmanazar was baptized by the name of George — being then twenty- five, and six years having elapsed since he left his native land. We now come to that wonderful fraud which gives this man a prominent place in literature. He soon learned to speak and write English, and then proposed to give an account of his native island, which hitherto had never been visited by a British tourist. He therefore wrote his description of Formosa, which includes its religion, do- mestic life, history, with other details. The book was issued by the noted publisher Lintot, and was illustrated with costly copperplate engi-avings. In these the author introduced the elephant, which does not exist in Formosa, but there was no one able to detect the error. In fact, the only point of truth in a volume of four hundred pages, is the name of the island. The mantle of piety was cleverly thrown over the volume by dedicating it to the bishop of London, and the preface closes with the follow- ing doxology : *'Now to the omnipotent and merciful God. wlio bath hf the 100 OuE Book. grace of His Holy Spirit called me from Paganism to the true knowledge of His Son, Jesus Christ, my Mediator and Redeemer, be ascribed eternal praise, honor and glory, by all creatures, for- ever and ever. Amen, As an instance of impious hypocrisy the above has seldom been equalled. Brief Success. The yonng impostor became an object of intense inter- est among religious and literary circles, and his book was subjected to close scrutiny. While indulging his inven- tion however, he made one mistake which was fatal. In speaking of the bloody religion which prevailed there he said that eighteen thousand infants were sacrificed annu- ally, which in reality, would soon depopulate the island. When cornered, instead of explaining it as an error in figures, he boldly adhered to it, and then when he saw that his patrons were losing confidence, he changed from imposture to confession, and acknowledged that the entire book was merely an invention. London was astonished, and when this was past the adventurer, being cast off by his friends, sought employment of the booksellers. He could do some kinds of literary drudgery, and this kept him from starving. He lived for sixty years in this man- nerj and expressed great penitence for his fraud. His subsequent life was passed in London, and when Johnson, at the age of twenty-six went thither to try his chance in literature, he found Psalmanazar a lonely drudge, and a friendship was gradually established. John- son, indeed, became an admirer of the mysterious adven- turer, who certainly must have possessed some peculiar attraction. Boswell tells us that Johnson mentioned him as the most agreeable of his associates, and at one time, when referring to his friend, he spoke thus : " Sir, I sought after Psalmanazar the most; I used to go and sit with him at an ale house in the city." The man who thus Book MAKnfo. 101 awoke the admiration and friendship of Johnson could be no ordinary character. Psalmanazar was then deeply ashamed of his impos- ture, and for this reason never disclosed his true name. He retained the livery of fraud till the last as a part of liis self-inflicted penance. We therefore have this re- markable fact, that the true name of an author who left his mark on the age in which he lived has never been revealed, and also that the place of his birth, as well as that of his burial, are utterly unknown. This is one of the mysteries of modern literature, reminding one of the Man in the Iron Mask. It was supposed, however, that Psalmanazar was French. He had traveled through Europe, thus acquiring inforraatiou, Other Literary Deceptions. The eighteenth century is noted for its literary frauds, all of which were sufliciently skillful to win the confi- dence and admiration of some of the most accomplished critics and were only detected by close and prolonged research. Psalmanazar was followed by Ossian's poems concerning w^hich the following statement is presented as embodying the principal facts. A young Scotchman of Highland birth and well educated was serving as tutor in a family of rank, and while thus engaged claimed to have found a number of fragments of ancient Celtish poetry. He showed copies to some Edinburgh critics who encour- aged his desire of publication, and the result was the appearance of a small volume. Such was the advent of James Macpherson who found himself at twenty-four the object of sufiicient attention to make any young man dizzy. This success led him to pursue the same subject until not long afterward he published a volume of more fin- 10^ Our Book. ished character which he called Ossian's Poems. It was received with great enthusiasm and was translated into other languages. Many of the old Highhmd families were so delighted with the idea that poems had been preserved and j)erpetuated orally among their people for a thousand years that they at once gave Macpherson implicit credence, but he had a more important dupe in Blair, then famous as a preacher and professor of rhetoric in Edinburgh uni- versity. He credited Macpherson implicitly and when the authenticity of the poems was assailed he published a volume in their defense. Doubts indeed had been expressed soon after the appearance of the book, and Hume wrote to Blair that as he had adopted the theory he should defend it by producing some of the originals. This never was done and Macpherson when asked for them took refuge in wounded pride since the request cast doubt upon liis veracity. Blair's essay compared Ossian with Homer, and Mac- pherson must have been astonished to see so strong a case made out by his champion. It is supposed indeed that one reason why he never confessed the imposture was a consideration for the feelings of those who had shown such inexhaustible credulity. Dr. Johnson with sturdy common sense, scouted the theory and called for the pro- duction of the original manuscripts boldly asserting that " no man has a right to demand credence of his state- ments when he has power to add proof." The controversy concerning Ossian continued for forty years, and eventually the Highland Society made an investigation throughout the entire Highlands which sufficiently proved that all these poems must have been written by Macpherson. The latter left Scotland and found government employment in London where he passed many years and then returned to his native land Book Making. 103 in possession of a competence. His fraud gi'adiially dropped out of notice, and he avoided any reference to it, assuming indifference to the A^erdict of public opinion whicli pronounced Ossian an ingenious imposture. The Kowley Paters. Chatterton was the only hterary fraud that possessed the highest order of genius, and his imposture was not due to the desire of triumph over credulity but to that worship of the past which had mastered his soul. His creations were superior to all others which have been offered to the world under an assumed garb, and even when stripped of the latter and exposed in modern Eng- lish they still command our admiration. He was the youngest and also the most unfortunate of the class of which I am now speaking, for he died by his own hand in his eighteenth year. That an attorney's clerk in Bristol should have so mastered the language of six centuries previous as to deceive the best critics in the kingdom is certainly surprising. At twelve Chatterton had written a poem — Ellenore and Juga — which has decided merit, and after he had been apprenticed to a conveyancer he soon produced antique fragments of great local interest. A new bridge over the Aven at Bristol was opened and the clerk grati- fied the public by a curious account of the opening of the old bridge seven centuries ago. This was published in one of the papers and the youth said that he found the orijrinal in an old chest in the tower of an ancient church. The skill with which it was written led to its general acceptance and the young clerk then produced other frag- ments which displayed great knowledge of heraldry and which also required mastery of the customs and language of an earlier day. 104: OuK Book. His chief creation, however, was Thomas Rowley the poet, whose productions he gave the woi-ld with such apparent accuracy tliat not only Bristol antiquarians bowed in veneration to the ancient bard, but other men of critical acumen yielded credence, and after Chatterton's death a controversy was held on this subject to such an extent that twenty-seven publications were issued before the question reached a negative conclusion. Johnson's Opinion. Dr. Johnson, who had been antagonistic to the claims of Ossian, was equally incredulous in the Rowley contro- versy, and the following extract from Boswell may be of use in this connection : " We made an excursion to Bris- tol where I was entertained by seeing Johnson inquire upon the spot into the authenticity of the Rowley poetry, as I had seen hitn inquire on the spot into the authenti- city of the Ossian j)oetry. George Catcot, the pewterer who was as zealous for Rowley as Dr. Blair was for Ossian, attended us at our inn and exclaimed with a triumphant air, 'I will make Dr. Johnson a convert.' Dr. Johnson, at his desire, read aloud some of Chatterton's fabricated verses, while Catcot stood at the back of his chair, mov- ing himself like a pendulum of a clock and beating time with his feet, and now and then looking in4;o Dr. John- son's face — wondering he was not yet convinced. We also called on Dr. Barrett, the surgeon, and saw some of the originals — as they were called — which were exe- cuted with much art — but from a careful inspection we were quite satisfied of the imposture. Johnson said of Chat.terton ' this is the most extraordinary young man that has encountered my knowledge.' " True enough ! Chatterton was the wonder of the eighteenth century, and even Wordsworth exclaims! Book Making. 105 "I thought of Chatterton the marvelous boy, The sleepless youth that perished in his pride ! '' At the time of Johnson's visit to Bristol Chatterton had been six years in his grave. He had adventured to London in searcli of literary employment, and like many of the same class had met the keenest disappointment. After brief and crushing misery he ended his sad career by poison and had a pauper's burial. Chatterton as has been remarked, was the only one of these literary forgers that possessed genius, so it may also be said that he is the only one of the number that holds literary existence. His works have a place in all lii)raries and some of his utterances combine great beauty and moral truth. One of these is the appeal to the Deity which closes a brief poem on the misery of our race. "0! give the mighty will — or give the willing power.'' How much, indeed, is included in this brief prayer ? The Ieeland Fkaud. During the year 1796 a London dealer in old books and curiosities visited Stratford and was accompanied by his son, a bright and clever youth of eighteen, who had already displayed much of that antiquarian taste which characterized his father. The enthusiasm which the lat- ter manifested when they reached the birth-place of the great dramatist was increased by the discovery made by his son of an ancient lease with Shakespeare's signature. In this manner the Irelands — both named Samuel — attracted unusual notice, and the son soon afterward found one of Shakespeare's lost plays which occasioned a still greater sensation in the literary world. It was called Yortigern, and had so genuine an appearance that it was played at Drury Lane with John Philip Kemble in the loading role. 14 106 Our Book. It proved a failnre however, and then a closer critical examination took place which resulted in a general con- viction of imposture. Young Ireland was plied with the same demand to which Macpherson had been subjected — to furnish the originals — and being unable to escape the dilemma he confessed the fraud. Ilis father was overcome W'ith grief and the young impostor left the paternal roof never to return. The admiration which Yortigern awoke led its author to write another play called Henry II and both were printed in 1799. The impostor seems to have gloried in his success, for thirty .years afterward he republished Vortigern as a literary curiosity. He also published- his Confessions in which he gives a description of his forger- ies. It is evident that he possessed a respectable share of ability, and he supported himself by literary labor until his death, which occurred in 1835. It may be added that a copy of Ireland's Shakespearian forgeries was recently sold at auction in New York, and as might have been expected, occasioned sharp rivalry. The value of the book was increased by the signature of John Philip Kemble with interleaved engravings, and after spirited bidding it was carried off by a bibliomaniac at $155. It thus appears that the first and the last of these impostors — Psalmanazar and Ireland — confessed their frauds but while the one expressed repentance the other seemed proud of his success. Macpherson on the other hand maintained a reserve on the Ossian question, and appeared indifferent to public opinion. Chatterton was the only one of the nnmber who died before the complete publication of his works, and whose genius so commands our admiration that one is led to forgive his youthful imposture. These literary frauds indicate the natural tendency to Book Making. KW/ reproduce the antique, and while the present century fur- nishes nothing of the kind in a literary line it has still to testify against Collier the Shakespearean charlatan. Malicious Frauds. The basest form of literary fraud is when it assails character by forged letters, and this was one of those out- rages which Washington so patiently endured. In 1776 a pamphlet was published in London containing letters alleged to have been written by the commander of the American army. The fraud was very ingenious, for the style was cleverly imitated, and they made reference to local and even family affairs. The object was to misrep- resent both himself and the American cause, and they were well adapted to this malicious purpose. These letters were reprinted in New York by the tories, but to perpetuate the mischief, the enemies of Washing- ton published them in book form during his last adminis- tration, and this led Washington to file his denial in the national archives. The author was never known, but my suspicion rests on James Rivington (see page 318), almost the only man that could commit the crime. Concerning Pen Names. One of the earliest is Piers Ploughman, whose Com- plaint is one of the curiosities of British literature. Later on, when Edward Cave started the Gentleman's Maga- zine, he assumed tlie editorial title of Sylvanus Urban, which is still retained by his successors. Dr. Johnson wrote for the same magazine under the name of S. Smith. Addison was the Clio of the Spectator, and Goldsmith was The Chinese Philosopher of the Public Ledger. His spicy letters are the only ones of that day that have beeo 108 Odk Book. reprinted, and they are among the best things of his pen. Horace Walpole published his Castle of Otranto as the work of Onuphrio Murallo, translated by William Mar- shall. Robert Southey wrote letters from Portugal un- der the name of Espriella, and Sydney Smitli used the name of Peter Plymly. Walter Scott had three pen names. He was not only the Author of Waverley, but also Paul, and then as a politician he signed Malachi Mala- growther. James Hogg was The Ettrick Shepherd. Thomas Moore's first poems were issued as the works of the late Thomas Little. As Moore was a very small man, this pen name semed most appropriate. Prof. Wilson had two pen names. His Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life were by Arthur Austin, and then he was the Chris- topher North of Blackwood's Magazine. John Wolcott was Peter Pindar, and the gifted and mercurial Francis Mahoney was Father Prout, the wittiest man of his day, and one of its best hnguists. Proctor, the London law- yer, wrote poetry under the name of Barry Cornwall. Elia was Charles Lamb, and De Quincy was the English Opium Eater. Douglas Jerrold appeared in print as Bar- rabas Whitefeather, and E. R. Lytton as Owen Meredith. The once popular Country Parson was the Rev. A. H. K. Boyd, and Sidney Tendys is Sidney Dobell. Delta of Blackwood was Dr. Moir, and Etonensis is William E. Gladstone. The sisters Bronte were severally Acton Bell, Ellis Bell and Currer Bell, and I need hardly say that Boz was Dickens, though I can remember the time when this popular name was a mystery, and it continued thus for two years. Mrs. Marion C. Lewes was the novel- ist George Eliot, and Thomas Hughes is Tom Brown, Max O'Rell is Paul Blouet, and Mme. Durand is Henry Greville. Mrs. Frank Tracy is Agnes Ethel. Turning to the continent, Mme. Dudevant was George Sand, Book Making. 109 Clara Mundt was the autlior of the Louise Mulbach nov- els, and Louise De la Rame is the famous Ouida. American Kames. Pen names seem native to America. In 1645, only fifteen years after the settlement of Boston, Nathaniel Ward issued a tract called the Cobbler of Agawam, by Theodore De La Guard. This example became popular. One of the iiappiest pen names was that adopted by Ben. Franklin when he was an apprentice to his brother, who published a paper in Boston. A number of essays appeared signed Silence Dogood, and attracted much attention, which encouraged their author to greater effort, and he afterward became the author of Poor Richard's Almanac, which rendered him famous. Immediately after the Revolution Judge Tyler appeared in print as Updike Underhill, and with this pen name appeared the first American play and also the first tale. Next came the pen names in Salmagundi, where William Irving was Pindar Cockloft and James K. Paulding Launcelot Long- staff, while Washington Irving was Anthony Evergreen, and also wrote the letters of Keli Khan. He was also the Jonathan Old Style of the Morning Chronicle, and later on appeared as Diedrich Knickerbocker and Geoffrey Crayon. Philip Freneau was Robert Slender, and Wil- liam Wirt was the clever British Spy. Matthew L. Davis, Burr's biographer, was the Old Man in Specs, and Willis Gaylord Clarke was the Ollapod of the Knicker- bocker Magazine. Other prominent Names. Howard Carroll is H. C. of the New York Times; Edwin Williams was The Berkeley Men, and Nathaniel Green was Boscowen ; Maria Brooks was Maria del Oc- cidente, whose poetry Southey quotes; Anna Cora Mo- 110 OuE Book. watt was Helen Berkeley; Susan Warner was Elizabeth^ Witlierell ; C. T. Briggs was Harry Franco ; N. P. "Willis was Philip Slingsby ; Mrs. Whitcher was The Widow Bedott ; Dr. Francis Lieber was Aniericns ; Charles F. Browne was Arteinus Ward ; E. G. Squires was Samuel Bard ; Benjamin Perley Poore was Perley ; Matthew Hale Smith was Burleigh ; Charles Astor Bristed was Carl Benson ; Mortimer Thompson was Doe- sticks ; H. W. Herbert was Frank Forrester ; Mrs. James Parton was Fanny Fern ; Mrs. Judson was Fanny For- rester ; the Hev. S. I. Prime was Irseneus ; H. W. Shaw was Josh Billings ; Dr. Holland was Timothy Titcomb; Charles G. Halpen was Miles O'Reilly ; Mrs. S. Lippin- cott was Grace Greenwood ; S. G. Goodrich was Peter Parley; R. H. Newell was Orpheus C. Kerr — (office- seeker) ; Judge Haliburton was Sam Slick ; the Rev. Nicholas Murray was Kerwan, and Henry Ward Beecher was the * of the Independent, while Alice B. Neal was Cousin Alice ; Rev. Charles A. Stoddard is Augustus of the New York Observer, as well as its chief editor, Mrs. G. L. Alden is Pansy ; Mrs. Searing is Howard Glyndon; Mrs. Farley is Ernest Gil more ; J. T. Trow- bridge is Paul Grey ton ; Henry Watterson isAsaTrench- ard ; C. C. Coffin is Carleton ; Mrs. Stowe is Chris Crow- field ; Mrs. Pittman is Margery Deane ; Julia C. R. Dorr is Caroline Thomas ; Mrs. Halley is Josiah Allen's Wife ; Maria Gilmore is Mabel Gerard ; G. A. Townsend is Gath ; Miss Abigail Dodge is Gail Hamilton ; Mrs. Richardson is Pearl Rivers ; Henry Harlan d is Sydney Luska ; Charles G. Leland is Hans Breitman ; Joel Chandler Harris, is Uncle Remus ; James R. Lowell is Hosea Biglow ; G. W. Curtis is The Howadji ; Donald G. Mitchell is Ik Marvell ; Mrs. D. G, Croly is Jennie June; C. H. Webb is John Paul; S. L. Clemens is Pen Names. lit Mark Twain ; William Winter is Merentio ; B. P. Shil- laber is the irresistible Mrs. Partington ; William T. Adams is Oliver Optic ; A. C. Wheeler is Nym Crinkle ; Mrs. Rush Ellis is Saxe Holme ; W. H. Bogart is Senti- nel ; William H. McElroy is Richard Scudder ; Lyman Abbott is Ben Aiiley ; John Neal is John A. Cataract; Miss Murfree is Charles Egbert Craddock, and Rossi ter Johnson is Phaeton Rogers. Initials and Fancy Names. Some authors prefer initials, and Miss Landon acquired temporary fame as L. E. L., while in our own day H. H. was sufficient to indicate a writer who is still mourned by the literary world. Johnson was accustomed to apply grotesque titles to his friends, and thus Goldsmith became Goldy, and Boswell was Bozzy, Garrick was Davy, while Edmund Burke the famous orator, was only designated Mun Burke. Some literary men have changed their names as a matter of taste, and one is not surprised that Joseph Tinker preferred the name of Buckingham, nor that Jeremiah Colbath should change his name to Henry Wilson. Bayard Taylor dropped the prefix of James, and Commodore Slidell added Mackenzie. Going back to a still earlier day we find John Paul changed his name to Paul Jones and won fame for his naval victories dur- ing the revolution. Our country has never shown a proper gratitude toward this hero. Anonymous Publications. The habit of publishing anonymously is very ancient, and Yirgil tried the method when he wrote verses lauding Augustus. As might have been expected, the credit was appropriated by another, and Yirgil's strategy in exposing the fraudulent claimant was very ingenious. The most wonderful of all anonymous writers was the author of 112 Our Book. Junius, and his secret is the best kept of any thing of the kind on record. It is generally supposed however, that Sir Phihp Francis was the author. Byron issued his Don Juan anonymously, but though he was then in Italy the London public soon settled the question of its authenticity. Another remarkable in- stance of the kind is The Doctor, which also appeared anonymously in London. Its style, its indication of extraordinary reading and also its conservatism led the public to charge it to Southey. He was indeed its author, but to blind the reader he introduced allusions to himself, among other writers, and actually quoted some of his own poetry. Walter Scott issued his novels by the Author of Waverley, and at the same time published poems and biography under his own name in order to distract atten- tion. He never alluded to the Waverley novels either in print or in family conversation while the Great Un- known was under discussion — a space of twelve years. In addition to this secrecy he issued Tales of my Landlord anonymously — for not even The Author of Waverley was on the title page. The public however soon dis- cerned the identity, and the books were at once classed with the "Waverley novels. The most popular novel published anonymously before the days of Scott was Miss Burney's Evelina, which appeared in 1Y78. Twelve years had elapsed since Gold- smith had published the Yicar of Wakefield, and as no respectable fiction had occurred during this interval the public welcomed this clever production. Edmund Burke when twenty-seven, published anonymously his maiden vol- ume (Vindication of Natural Society), which was ascribed to Bolingbroke. The Dunciad was a much more strik- ing instance, for Pope "not only suppressed his name but Book Making. 113 in order to blind the public more effectually, published it in Dublin. He was afraid of the consequences. Anotuek Instance. While Byron was living in Venice, in 1819, three years after leaving England, and being then in his thirty- first year, he was surprised to learn that a prose fiction had been ascribed to him. The tale first appeared anonymously in a London magazine, and was afterward published in a volume, also anonymous. The same vol ume contained a beautiful sketch of the poet's residence on the Island of Mytelene, which was described in all the detail which suggested a special visit, made for this pur- pose. Byron at once saw that these two fictions were in- tended by such a connection to lead the public to the conclusion that he was the author of the first, and also, that the other had his approval. He was startled by the liberty thus taken with his name, and wrote to Galignani and also to John Murray, denying the authorship. The Yampire was, by popular opinion, ascribed to Byron as soon as it appeared, and this gave it a wide cir- culation. Even Walter Scott held such a belief until Byron's denial was published. It was thought that onlj' he could be its author, not only because he w^as conver- sant with oriental scenes, but also from the following allusion to the Yampire in the Giaour: "But first on earth as Vampire sent Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent; Then ghastly haunt thy native place And suck the blood of all thy race, There from thy daughter, sister, wife At midnight drain the stream of Hfe." Byron soon learned that the author of the mysterious tale was Dr. Polidori, whom he had known in London, and who accompanied him to the continent. There they parted and Polidori returned to London where he pub. 15 114 OuK Book. Wordsworth published " Peter Bell '' anonymously to escape the prejudice against the " Lake school " of poetry of which he was chief. Samuel Peters, whose lying his- tory of Connecticut is noticed elsewhere, issued that infamous libel in London anonymously, being too great a coward to meet the responsibility. To return to American literature, Charles Brockden Brown issued his novels anonymously and Caritat, the publisher advertised " Wieland by a Citizen of the United States," also Ormond by the author of Wie- land. The Mad Poet. This title was only assumed by one person (McDonald Clarke), who published " The Elixir of Moonshine by the Mad Poet." The pen name took so well that the " Mad Poet" enjoyed no little notoriety. His poetry was suffi- ciently eccentric to sell and this gave him a meagre support until his death, which occurred in 184-2'. He originated one expression (button with a star), which was afterward used by Holmes. The only poet buried in New York was Bobert C. Sands, who was also editor of the Commercial Advertiser. Bryant at the same time edited the Evening Post, and these two leading papers had poetic editors. Sands died early and was buried in St. Paul's church yard. Sands' work as a journalist was limited to five years, and its close was marked by his best poem, The Dead of 1832. It was written in December, and before the year was finished he too was in its mortuary record, liaving survived this poem but a few days. It was certainly a very remarkable feature in the year above referred to that its death-roll included such a variety of genius. Having mentioned The Dead of 1832 in a fragmentary Book Makincx. 115 manner, I now add a few verses in this connection to show its beauty. Oh Time and Death ! with certain pace Though still unequal, hurrying on, O'erturning in your awful race The cot, the palace, and the throne. Dread ministers of God ! Sometimes Ye smite at once — to do His will — In all eartli's ocean severed climes, Those — whose renown ye cannot kill. When all the brightest stars that bum At once are banished from their spheres. Men sadly ask wlien shall return Such luster to the coming years? Per where is he — who lived so long. Who raised the modern Titan's ghost, And showed his fate in powerful song Whose soul for learning's sake was lost? Where he — who backward to the birth Of Time itself adventurous trod; And in the mingled mass of earth, Found out the handiwork of God? Where he — who struck old Albyn's lyre, Till round the world the echoes roll. And swept with all a prophet's fire, The diapason of the soul? Tlie reader will recognize in the last three verses ref- erences to Goethe, Cuvier and Scott, and after paying an appropriate tribute to the remainder of the illustrious record, the poet closes with the following eloquent out- burst : All earth is now their sepulcher, The mind their monument sublime ; Young in eternal fame they are, Such are your triumphs, Death and Time ! Peter Wilkins. It may seem very strange that there should be a direct connection between a work written by an English bishop 116 OuK Book. and a burletta played at the Bowery theatre, but such is the case. During my boyhood the above-mentioned play- house drew large attendances by the performance of " Peter Wilkins, or the Flying Islanders," which I then supposed to be a modern production. I learned, how- ever, that Peter Wilkins was a book of adventure among the winged Pacific islanders, published in London in 1750, and often reprinted. The author, Eobert Puttock (who never published any other book), derived the idea from Bishop Wilkins' publications concerning the moon, which he believed to be inhabited. One of these was on the possibility of a voyage thither. The bishop pur- sued science as well as religion, and his vagaries were not only caricatured, but his name was put into service by the humorist. Henry Kirke White. It was his early death which gave him fame, since his sad fate awoke sympathv, and his works are thus en- shrined in that halo which surrounds disappointed genius and crushed ambition. Had White survived his fiftieth year he would have outlived his poetry, but he passed away so rapidly that his name is associated with tender and pathetic associations to a degree unknown by any author. One of the most striking features in Kirke White's history is the fact that his boyhood was passed at Nottingham, which is near Byron's ancestral home, Newstead abbey. White was a poor boy working in a factory and then an attorney's clerk, while Byron was the favored son of wealth as well as of genius. Years after- ward they met in Cambridge university. The one was the incipient nobleman and peer of the realm, while the other was an ill-clothed charity scholar. Nevertheless the latter commanded the respect and even the admiration of Hknry Kikke White. 117 the former, who, amid all his love of vice, acknowledged and honored the purity of the humble student. Byron's Tribute. N^ot long afterward White died, and when Byron ex- coriated the literati of Great Britain (in his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers) he paid the former the fol- lowing beautiful tribute : "Unhappy White, while life was in its spring, And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler swept that soaring lyre away. Which else had sounded an immortal lay, Oh, what a noble heart was here undone, When science self-destroyed her favorite son; 'Twas thine own genius gave the fatal blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low." Byron's tribute to White shows how the simple piety and studious application of the latter could command the admiration of one so highly elevated in wealth and social rank as well as genius. White could not be correctly called " unhappy," for though his early plans were all blasted he had learned submission, and this sublime lesson pervades one of his best effusions : Come disappointment, come ! Though from hope's summit hurled Still rigid nurse thou art forgiven. For thou, severe, were sent from heaven, To wean me from the world ; To turn my eye From vanity, And point to scenes of bliss, that never, never die. The above was written by one who never saw his twenty-second year, but it is really a grander utterance than anything in Childe Harold, whose author more than once acknowledges the value of that religion which he so madly rejected. The same testimony, however, is fre- quently given by perverted genius. 118 OuE Book. Byron says in letters : " Harry White had poesy and genius notwithstanding his cant, which in him was sin- cere. Setting aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next to Chatterton. It is astonishing how little he was known. At Cambridge no one thought or heard of such a man till his death rendered all notice useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud of such an acquaint- ance." To such a man as Byron it was natural to desig- nate piety as cant and bigotry, but it is highly probable that he often envied the charity scholar that peace which only true religion can give. White little dreamed of the impression he was making on the high born slave of sin, and this is an additional proof of the unconscious power of piety. Tributes to Genius. One of the most touching features in literature is that series of eulogies which authors one after another pay to departed genius. Milton honors Shakespeare with the sonnet beginning : What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones The labor of an age in piled stones? Pope pays a beautiful tribute to Cow^ley and also to Denham. Collins penned a poetic tribute to Thomson, and Cowper sought in the same manner to do justice to Whiteiield. Johnson wrote Goldsmith's epitaph and Garrick performed a similar service for Hogarth. Burke wrote the obituary which followed the death of Sir Joshua Keynolds. The learned Dr. Parr wrote Johnson's epitaph, and Wordsworth paid a mortuary tribute to the eloquent Charles James Fox. Coming to our own authors, Hal- leck's most pathetic lines were in honor of his departed friend Joseph Rodman Drake. Biyant delivered a eulogy on Irving and received after his death a similar honor from Stedman. The Bryant bust in the Central park is this poet's chief Poets and Monuments.. 119 monument, as his grave is designated in a very simple manner. Poetic genius has seldom asked more than this and even Horace, who claimed that he had built a monu- ment more enduring than brass, referred to his writings rather than to a mortuary shaft. The oldest grave of any author is that of Yirgil at Posilippo, near Naples. Shakespeare's, however, is the most frequently visited, being the chief shrine of genius. Probably the longest epitaph ever written on any literary man was that which Johnson inflicted on Goldsmith, and which to make it worse is in Latin. The shortest is that which marks the grave of the once noted Boston preacher and lecturer, who died in Florence, and consists merely of the name " Theodore Parker," with the dates of birth and death. Wordsworth in his latter days when contemplating his final departure from the scenes he so deeply loved, refers thus to himself in the lines on a stone placed by him at Rydal Mount : 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. The most painful in its suggestions, at least of all the epitaphs of genius, is that which Swift wrote for himself, but the most pathetic is that which Keats desired. It is the language of broken hope which made him feel that liis life had indeed been " written in water," but the for- mer suggests that bitter disappointment which Swift so long endured. Few men are inchned to write their own epitaphs, but in addition to those of Swift and Keats may be given one which Coleridge left for his own tomb : ''Stop, Christian passer by: Stop, child of God, And read with gentle breast. Beneatii this sod A poet lies, or tliat which once seemed he, 0 ! lift a thought in prayer for S. T. C. 120 Our Book. That he who many a year, with toil of breath Found death in life, may here find life in death, Mercy for praise — to be forgiven, for fame, He asked and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same." To the above may be added the lines which close Gray's Elegj, and which gives one the poet's idea of what should be his own mortuary inscription. What a beautiful illus- tration of sympathy is given in such lines as these : "He gave to misery — 'twas all he had — a tear, He gained of heaven — 'twas all he wished — a friend." Interpolations and Alterations. There has been from time immemorial a class of scrib- blers so conceited as to think that they can improve the works of men of genius, and a very striking instance is found in Gibber's mutilation of Shakespeare. I was per- sonally acquainted with one of this class who tinkered Collin's Ode to the Passions with great satisfaction. A similar instance is found in an edition of Coleridge's poems, published in Boston, 1860, by Crosby, Nichols & Co., in which eight verses of the Ancient Mariner are altered, and the following verse is interpolated : A gust of wind starts up behind, And whistles through his bones; Through the hole of his eye and the hole of his mouth Half whistles and half groans. This attempt to " improve " a wonderful poem shows a degree of audacity which is really surprising. ■ Such alterations are among the highest literary crimes, and yet they are the most frequently found among a class whose religious profession, to say the least, requires honesty. I refer to the tinkerers of hymns, who have done such vio- lence to the best productions of the sacred muse, and often, indeed, made the hymnists father sentiments repul- sive to their very nature. Early poetical Visitor. 121 One of the earliest American issues of foreign poetry thus appeared in the New York Museum, April 12, 1800: " The Pleasures of Hope, and Other Poems, by Thomas Campbell, are just published by Jones Bull, 403 Pearl street, at sixty-two cents, neatly bound and lettered." It is painful to learn that an author whose principal work was the Pleasures of Hope, should have been through life the victim of disappointment. Campbell unfortunately struck twelve the first time. In other words, he never equaled his first effort, and the Pleasures of Hope was the ghost at his door through life. As he said, " I was married as the author of the Pleasures of Hope, and I shall be buried as the author of the Pleas- ures of Hope." True enough, the inscription on his coflin-plate was "Thomas Campbell, author of the Pleas- ures of Hope." This poem was published when its author had hardly passed his twenty-first year, and being then unknown he sold his copyright for a mere trifle, but the publisher kindly gave him £50 for each new edition for several years. It is probable, however, that it never yielded him more than £350, while Scott received £1,000 for Marmion. Embarked on the treacherous sea of literature, the poet's life thenceforth was a struggle with poverty and other calamities, which eventually rendered him a mere wreck, and he died in a French port, whither he had gone for health. His favorite child preceded him to the grave, and as the sole survivor showed signs of derangement while yet a youth, he was conveyed to an asylum, whence he was only removed by death. The poet was also be- reaved by the death of his faithful and affectionate wife, and the following sad picture of grief and desolation is taken from a brief address made to a circle of friends : I am alone in the world. My -wife and also the child of my best hopes are dead, and the surviving child is conveyed to a liv- 122 OuE Book. ing tomb. My old friends, my brothers and sisters, are dead, all but one, and she too is dying. As for fame, it is a bubble tliat will soon burst. When earned for others it is sweet, but in my condition it can only be bitter. What a sad, and even terrible confession from the au- thor of the Pleasures of Hope, Gertrude of Wyoming and Hohen Linden — the best war poem of that age. Forty years after the publication of his first and greatest work the poet lay dying in Boulogne, and a friend who was in attendance gave the following sketch of the closing scene : At four in the afternoon our beloved poet expired without a struggle. His features look sharper and more defined than yes- terday, but they are perfectly serene — almost like a statue. He lies on his left side, his head and shoulders supported by pillows. Though prepared, as I thought, for the crisis, yet I confess I was so bewildered when I saw the head drop lifeless on the chest that I could hardly lealize the scene. There lay the breathless form of one who had impressed all sen- sitive hearts by the magic influence of his geuius — whom I had seen struggling with ditficulties and then striving to seek repose in exile, but finding it only in death. With these feelings we gently closed his eyes that had now opened on another world. A poor compensation for the poet's life-long sorrows was found in rare posthumous honor. Thomas Camp- bell indeed was the only author of that age buried in Westminster Abbey — ranking in this point both Scott and Byron. The Dunciad. This satire has never been excelled in point of wit and felicitous hits at both men and the times. Byron found in the Dunciad a model for his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, and the latter showed that the pupil was not far behind the master. Pope was the only man of his day whose works sold sufficiently well to make their au- thor independent. This excited the jealousy of less for- tunate writers, who attacked him sharply, and in some instances without justice. He determined, at last, to bring the whole of this class to a settlement, which was done in the Dunciad. The plan was taken from Dryden, but CONCEKNING BLUE LawS. 123 no one but Pope could fill it with such overflowing satire. The publication of the Diinciad made an intense excite- ment in London. Pope was then (1728) in his fortieth year, and probably nothing saved him from personal vio- lence, but the fact that he was a feeble and shattered in- valid. Sir Robert Walpole presented a copy of the Dun- ciad to the king, and it became very popular in court. Concerning blue Laws. This term is not American, its first appearance having occurred in London. The blue ribbon was worn by the Scottish convenanters in distir ction from the scarlet of royalty, but that has no connection with the " blue laws." The history of the latter is as follows : In 1781, while the revolution was in progress, a history of Con- necticut was published in London. It was anonymous, and the evident desire of the author was to vilify the colonists. The amount of falsehood, indeed, which the book contains is surprising, and yet, strange to say, the author was a Connecticut clergyman, who had been driven from his parish on account of his toryism. Yery naturally he found revenge in slander, which he put in book sliape. The edition, however, must have been very small, for copies are now literary curiosities. The most striking exception to the general current of abuse is found in the following paragraph : "At Hebron reside some of the descendants of William Peters, among whom is Rev. Samuel Peters, an Episco- pal clergyman, who by his generosity and zeal for the Church of England has rendered himself famous both in old and New England." The reader will no doubt be amused to learn that this Rev. Samuel Peters is none other than the author of the book, who thus anonymously gives himself a flattering notice. Having portrayed himself so favorably, the his- torian gives the following Painful Picture. " Thus lived these ambitious people under far worse per- secutions from one another than they ever experienced or complained of in old England — all which they endured 124 Our Book. with some degree of patience, the persecuted of one year living in hopes that the next would enable them to retali- !\te on their persecutors." " The laws made by this independent dominion and de- nominated Bkie Laws by the neighboring colonies were never suffered to be printed, but the following sketches of some of them will give a tolerable idea of the spirit which pervades the whole : " " No food or lodging shall be afforded to a Quaker or any other heretic." " No woman shall kiss her child on the Sabbath or fast day." " No one shall read common prayer, keep Christmas or saints' days, make mince pies, dance, play cards or play on any instrument except the drum, trumpet or jews' harp." "Every male shall have his hair cut round according to a cap." " Of this sort were the laws made by the people of New Haven. They consist of a vast multitude, and were very properly termed Blue Laws, i. e., bloody laws, for they were all sanctified with excommunication, confiscation, fines, banishment, whippings, catting off the ears, burn- ing the tongue and death." There is something almost comic in the following pic- ture of the method of visiting the sick : " The minister demands of the sick if he be converted, and when and where. If the answer is conformable to the system of the minister, it is very well ; if not, the sick man is given over as non-elect and no object for prayer. Another minister is then sent for, who asks the sick man if he be willing to die, and if he be willing to be damned if it should please God to damn him. Should he answer no this minister quits him as the former. Finally the sick man dies and so falls from their hands into better." According to our " historian " New Haven had in his day given all New England a name which should not be forgotten. He writes thus : " New Haven is celebrated for having given the name of pumpkin heads to all the New Englanders. It origin- ated from the Blue Laws, which enjoined every male to have his hair cut round by a cap. When caps were not ALEXANDER POPE. Addison. 125 to be had they substituted the hard shell of a pumpkin, which being put on the head every Saturday the hair is cut by the shell all round the head." All the above laws are malicious fictions. An Addisonian Query. The question has been raised whether an author can refer to his own productions in terms of commendation. In some instances this has been done, notwithstanding the risk of censure, one of the most striking being found in Addison. This distinguished writer, after completing his tragedy of Cato, felt the importance of calling the at- tention of the public to its most impressive lesson — the immortality of the soul. I find this in the Spectator for December 3, 171-i, which opens with a disquisition on eternity and closes thus : "I have a translation of the speech of Cato, which hath acci- dentally fallen into my hands, and which for conciseness, purity and elegance cannot be sufficiently admired." He then gives the speech in Latin hexameters on one side of the page, while the other side contains the trans lation, beginning " It must be so : Plato, thou reasonest well." This speech, which is termed Cato's Soliloquy, was in Addison's opinion the best thing in the play, and hence he translates it into Latin and offers it to its read- ers as a fragment of antiquity. Such is the example Addison gives us of an author commending his own works. Pope discovered it and was no doubt highly amused at Addison's self-complacency, and when the time came to use it in satire he made it very effective. Addison afterward incurred Pope's displeasure, and the latter retorted by that scathing paragraph which is one of the brightest things of that age. Here he couples Addison and his hero in the followinoem on The Dead of 1832! Saved by a Couplet. Two American writers have been saved from oblivion, each by a couplet. One was William Martin Johnson, a literary physician who died in 1796 while yet a young man. His epitaph on a young lady is his only production worthy of remembrance. Here sleep in dust and wait the Almighty's will Then rise unchanged and be an angel still. The other was Jonathan Mitchell Sewall, a 'New Eng- land lawyer who lived to three score and published a volume of poems. One of these is an epilogue to Cato in which occur the following well-known lines : No pent-up Utica contracts your powers But the whole boundless continent is yours. 14:0 Cue Book. PLAGIARISM. The best authors are sometimes accused of plagiarism, simply because the same ideas may occur to different men. One of the finest things in Yirgil is the allusion to the power of sympathy thus uttered by the Cartha- genian queen : "Non ignara mali, miseris succerrere disco," which may be translated. " Myself no stranger to misfor- tune, I have learned to succor the distressed." I find the same idea in Garrick's appeal in behalf of the impover- ished play actors of his day. " Their cause T plead — plead it with heart and mind. A fellow feeling makes one wondrous kind." One finds on close examination that there is very little real originality, since authors either insensibly drink in other men's thoughts, or else have the same ideas sug- gested by what is commonly termed inspiration. The basest form of plagiarism is the deliberate stealing of an author's entire production. This is of course, a complimentary expression of admiration, but no one wants to be robbed, even in a complimentary manner. Instances of this kind are to be met all throngh the history of literature. Yirgil found his verses in eulogy of Augustus stolen by Bathyllus, but he cunningly set a trap for the latter, who was easily detected. "When Mackenzie (Scotland's best novelist before Sir Walter) published anonymously the Man of Feeling, it was immediately claimed by an Englishman named Ec- cles, who lived in Bath. The latter, to support his claim, transcribed the entire book with his own hand, and offered the manuscript in evidence. Mackenzie was then obliged to prove the authenticity of the work, which was done in the clearest manner. Plagiarism. 141 The continued tendency to this kind of larceny is illus- trated by William Allen Butler's Nothing to Wear, a poem which on its first appearance created a marked sensa- tion in fashionable circles, being in fact the best satire of the kind in existence. It was universally read, and all were eloquent in admiration. The literary world, how- ever, was soon startled by the announcement that Butler waaa wholesale plagiarist. This charge was brought by a clergyman named Peck, who claimed (and no doubt really believed) that his daughter was the author. He said that he heard her repeating extracts, and when he asked who wrote it she replied, "Why, pa, I wrote it myself." According to Peck's theory, the daughter had lost the manuscript in a street car, and Butler having found it, had claimed the honor. The best way to meet such a case originated with Virgil, and was also suggested by Butler's friends. Yir- gil wrote some half lines, and Bathyllus, being asked to finish them, was self-exposed. Miss Peck, when asked to furnish some other effusions, failed entirely, and this at once silenced her claims. In the same manner Campbell's Exile of Erin, which is his sweetest poem, was claimed by a man named Nugent, whose sister swore that she saw the poem in the handwriting of the latter before the date of Campbell's publication. Nugent's claim was maintained by a pro- vincial editoi* to Campbell's great annoyance, but tlie public (as in the case of Butler) readily discerned the true author. Another very prominent case is the appearance of that beautiful poem, If I Should Die To-night, in Jess, by H. Rider Haggard. The true author is Miss Bel Smith of Tabor College, Iowa. E.EMAKKABLE PaBALLELS. Disraeli gives some interesting literary parallels, to 142 Our Book. which I add the following which have come under my personal observation. Longfellow's Village Blacksmith is a very pretty picture, but it recalls a rustic poem by William Halloway who writes thus : " Beneath yon elders, furred with blackening smoke, The sinewy smith with many a labored stroke His clinking anvil i)\\(id in shed obscure, And truant schoolboys loitered near the door." Longfellow presents the same scene in the following lines: "Under a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door. They love to see the flaming forge And hear the bellows roar." His much admired verse in the Psalm of Life : "Art is long and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though strong and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave." is but a repetition of the idea given in Bishop King's exequy to his deceased wife : '' But hark, my soul like a soft drum Beats my approach, tells thee I come." Another of his expressions recalls the lines by Scott, who in Marmion, makes injured Constance say : " Now men of death go work your will For I can suffer and be still." Longfellow's verses thus render the same idea : '' O, fear not in a world like this. And thou shalt know ere long. Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong." "We may find another striking parallel, between Crabbe and Longfellow in the following extracts, the one being taken from Silf ord Hall, and the other from Longfellow's Plagiarism. 143 Morituri vos Salutainiis, which is one of the best things he ever wrote. Crabbe's lines are the following : "Dream on, dear boy; let pass a few brief years Replete with troubles, comforts, hopes, aad feara Bold expectations, efforts, wild and strong, Tliou shalt find thy bold conjectures wrong, " Imagination rules thee ; thine are dreams, And everything to thee is what it seems. Thou seest the surfaces of things that pass Before thee colored by thy fancy's glass." Longfellow gives the same idea thus : " How beautiful is youth I How bright it gleams With its illusions, aspirations, dreams; Book of beginnings; story without end; Each maid a heroine and each man a friend. All possibilities are in thy hand ; No danger daunts thee, and no foe withstands. In its sublime audacity of faith. Be thou removed it to the mountain saith; And with ambitious feet, secure and proud, Ascends the ladder leaning on the cloud." Wordsworth's best utterance — "the child is the father of the man " — is but a reproduction of Milton's lines : The childhood shows the man, As morning shows the day. Dryden, Chaucer and Others. While speaking on the similarity between authors who may be removed by distance of years and nationalities, I am reminded of the old expression, " making a virtue of necessity." Dryden, in Palamon and Arcite, writes : "Then, 'tis our best, since thus ordained to die. To make a virtue of necessity." Chaucer writes : "That I made a virtue of necessity and took it well." A striking similarity occurs between Jean Ingelow and Wordsworth, as a brief extract will show. The former writes thus concerning life's failures : " We are much bound to them that do succeed, But in a more pathetic sense are bound 144 OuK Book. To such as fail. They all our loss expound; They comfort us for work that will not speed. Aye, his deed, Sweetest in story who the dusk profound Of Hades flooded with entrancing sound, Music's own tears, was failure. Doth it read, Therefore, the worse? Ah, no." How much does this beautiful extract reminds us of Wordsworth's lines : "Oh, life, without thy chequered scene Of right and wrong, success and failure, Could a ground for magnanimity be found, Or whence could virtue flow?" Critics have recently discovered that Byron in some of liis finest passages merely reproduced French poetry. This is particularly true with respect to the Dying Glad- iator. I may, in connection with this statement, allnde to the fact that in Lara he reproduces some ideas which I have found in West, an obscure and half forgotten poet of the last century. I quote from Lara thus : " The sun is in the heavens and splendor in the beam. Health in the gale and freshness in the stream; Immortal man behold these glories shine, And cry exultingly, they're mine. Gaze on while yet thy gladdened eye may see, A morrow comes when they are not for thee; And grieve what may above tliy senseless bier Nor earth, nor sky will yield a single tear. Nor cloud shall gather more, nor leaf shall fall. Nor gale breathe forth one sigh for tliee for all. '' Let the above extract be compared with West as he writes in Ad Amicos : " For me whene'er all conquering death shall spread His wings around my unrepiuing head, I care not though this face be seen no more; The world will pass as cheerful as before, Bright as before the day star will appear, The fields as verdant and the skies as clear; Nor storms, nor comets will my doom declare. Nor signs on earth, nor portents in tlie air; Unknown and silent will depart my breath, Nor nature ere take notice of my deatii." Plagiarism. 145 Byron and James Hall. I will add another instance, which connects the name of Bjron with that of James Hall. The latter spent part of liis days in Illinois, but afterward removed to Cincinnati, where he became a member of the bar and also a man of letters. The following occni's in Hall's poem on Solitude : "But whea the friends of youth are goue, And the strong ties of l)lood And sympathy are riven one by one, The heart, bewildered and alone. Desponds in solitude. "Though crowds may smile and pleasures gleam To chase its lonely mood ; To that lone heart the world doth seem An idle and a frightful dream Of hopeless solitude." The above reminds us of the following extract from Hours of Idleness : "I loved, but those I loved are gone. Had friends — my early friends are dead; How cheerless feels the heart alone, When all its former hopes are fled ! Though gay companions o'er the bowl, Dispel awhile the sense of ill ; Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul, The heart, the heart is lonely still." It is hardly proper, however, to call this a plagiarism, for Byron's maiden volume may never have fallen into the hands of the early rhymester referred to above. Hours of Idleness is but little read, and hence the above may be considered one of those coincidences which so often occur, both in thought and utterance. Gray, Pope, Emily. Whoever heard of a poet called Emily, and yet such a name is on record, and his poem on Death is still extant. I refer to it simply because it gives us two expressions found in Gray's clergy. He speaks of the dawn of that inevitable day, and also refers to the virtuous 19 146 Odb Book. '' Gently reposing on some friendly breast,'' an idea which Gray renders " On some fond breast the parting soul relies." In the same poem Emily presents an idea which is found in Pope : " Tiie seasons as they fly Snatcli from us in their course, year after year, Some sweet connection, some endearing tie." Pope writes thus : "Years following years steal something every day. At last they steal us from ourselves away." and we find tlie same idea in Horace, from whom Pope no doubt obtained it. To return to Gray, I find liim indebted to Pope, who, in the Rape of the Lock, writes thus : " There kept my charms concealed from mortal eye, Like roses that in deserts bloom and die. " This was, perhaps, the origin of that oft-quoted coup- let in the elegy : " Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its fragrance on the desert air." Another curious parallel is found between Robert Blair and Campbell. The former in tlie Grave speaks of " visits Like those of angels few and far between," and Campbell, in the Pleasures of Hope, exclaims : " What though my winged hours of bliss have been Like angels' visits few and far between." How strange it seems that Campbell never changed these lines although his attention was called to the similarity. It may be added that there is also an undesigned simi- larity between those beautiful lines with Mdiich Campbell opens the Pleasures of Hope, and the following from Dyer's Grongar Hill : " As yon summits soft and fair Clad in colors of the air. Which to those wlio journey near Barren, brown and rough appear." Plagiaeism. 147 Campbell writes : " 'Tis distance lends enchantment to tlie view And robes the mountain in its azure hue. Other Parallels. Elijah Fenton, who lived in the days of Pope, but was a dozen years his senior, made the following remarks on the rich men of his day : " Some, by the sordid thirst of gain controlled, Starve in their stores, and cheat themselves for gold; Preserve the precious bane with anxious care, In vagrant lusts to feed a lavish heir." Crabbe, a century afterward, thus renders the same lesson : " To all the wealth my father's care laid by I added wings and taught it how to fly, To him that act had been of grievous sight. But he survived not to behold the flight, The rest was flown — I speak it with remorse — And now a pistol seemed a thing of course." Another picture is from Thompson, being found In his Castle of Indolence : " Here you a muck-worm of the town might see. At his dull desk amid his ledgers stalled, Eat up with carping care and penury, More like to carcass pitched on gallows tree. " Straight from the filth of this low grub behold Comes fluttering forth a gaudy spendthrift heir, All glossy, gay, enameled all with gold. The silly tenant of the summer air, In folly lost, of notliing takes he care ; Pimps, lawyers, stewards, harlots, flatterers vile. And thieving tradesmen him among them share.'' Pope, who was as close an observer as that age pro- duced, wrote in a similar strain concerning the useless hoards of some of the misers of that day : " At best it falls to some ungracious son. Who cries, My father's damned and all's my own." The same author saw so many estates broken up and 148 Our Book. dissolved under spendthrift hands, that he might well add as the result of his observation : *' Riches, like insects when concealed, they lie. Wait but for wings and in their season fly; Who sees jjale Mammon pine amid his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor; This year a reservoir with none to spare, The next a fountain spouting through his heir." Dr. Johnson, like Pope, was a keen observer of the follies of society, and had a ready turn for satire. Tiiis hu shows in his lines addressed to Sir Jolm Lade. The lat- ter was a young rake who had just come of age, and Wi\s going rapidly through a large estate. He annoyed John- sou by some foolish words, and got the following reply : " Long expected one and twenty, Lingering year at length has flown; Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty, Great Sir John, are now your own. " Loosened from the minor's tether, Free to mortgage or to sl-II ; Wild as wind and free as feather, Bid the sons of thrift farewell. " Wealth, my lad, was made to wander, Let it wander as it will; Call the jockey, call the pander. Bid them come and take their fill. '' All that i:)rey on vice and folly Joy to see their victim fly; There the gamester, light and jolly, ' There the lender, grave and sly. " Should the guardian, friend or mother, Tell the woes of willful waste, Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother. You can hang or drown at last." After a lapse of a century, the same idea forcibly re- appears in the following stanzas, written in Paris by Roswell Smith, who was then making a European tour. He had been to see a grand performance of Faust, and the lesson of the occasion is thus powerfully given. Such is the history of the poem given me by its author. The title is What the Devil Said to the Young Man : Plagiarism. 149 " 0 ! youtli so brave aud stroufj, The uiaiden's looks belie lier; Thougii she seem shy, a song, A kiss — well, only try her! " Love is the wine of life, That flows alone for pleasure; Dull husband and tame wife Know not the sparkling measure. '' Discovery — that's crime ; No sin but this, no sorrow; No punishment in time — None in the far to-morrow! " Drink off the golden cream Of youth, and wealth and pleasure; Then spill life's purple stream. And drop the empty measure!" As Sliakespeai'e contains sometliing on every subject, the reader will find that he has not omitted one so import- ant as this. In his day, as in all times before and after, the same evils marked society. We find King Henry speaking thus : " See, sons, what things you are; For this tlie foolish overcareful fathers, Have broke their sleep with thoughts, Tlieir brains with care. Their bones with industry; For this they have engrossed and piled up Their cankered heaps of strange achieved gold.'' Mrs. Norton, also. Many of our readers are familiar with Mrs. Norton's beautiful poem, Bingen on the Rhine, which begins thus : "A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers." Tlie same idea occurs in an anonymous poem, which the writer found in an old London periodical. The first verse is as follows : " A knight of valor and of rank lay on his couch of death ; And thus he to his kmsmen spoke, with faint and fleeting breath ; 'Farewell! farewell! Soon must I lie witliin the darksome grave ; No longer gaze on this fair world, and all its beauties brave,'" 150 Our Book. If Mrs. Norton's poem were not suggested by the one to which reference has just been made, then there is a very strange coincidence between these two productions. We find occasionally remarkable identities of thought among authors widely separated in thought and taste. Who, for instance, would expect Miss Elizabeth Stuart Phelps to rejDroduce an idea so vividly presented by Moore in his Loves of the Angels : "Had now careered so fast and far That earth itself seemed left behind, And her proud fancy unconfined, Already saw heaven's gates a-jarP Here, nowever, we have the title of one of her books. Byeon and Coleridge. Another very striking instance of the same character is found in the close resemblance between Byron and Coleridge as shown by the following extracts — the first being from the Siege of Corinth : *' Was it the wind, through some hollow stone Sent that soft and tender moan? He lifted his head and he looked on the sea But it was unrippled as glass may be. He looked on tlie long grass, but it waved not a blade How was that gentle sound conveyed? He looked to the banners — each flag lay still So did the leaves on Cithaeron's hill. And he felt not a breath come over his cheek: What did that sudden sound bespeak? He turned to the left — is he sure of sight? There sat a lady youthful and bright." After Byron had published the above he was present in a literary circle where Christabel was read aloud from the MSS,, for though written many years previously, it had never been in print. Byron was of course delighted with the poem, but his pleasure was changed to surprise as he lieard the following lines : "The night is chill, tlie forest bare, Is it the wind that moaneth bleak? There is not wind enough in the air Plagiarism. 151 To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek. There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf — tiie last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can Hanging so light and hanging so high On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky." JByroii says in a note on tliis subject " the original idea undoubtedly pertains to Mr. Coleridge whose poem has been composed more than fourteen years." He also ex- presses his hope that Coleridge would no longer delay its publication. Perhaps the reason of this delay was Cole- ridge's expectation of finishing it but his procrastination was such that he left it the most beautiful fragment in our language. Bykon and Ariosto, The description of a shipwreck given in one of Byron's latest poems is admired at least as a teri-ific scene, and the author of the Real Lord Byron says it was due to a de- structive wreck which occurred on the English coast. Byron, however, wrote his sliipwreck while in Italy years after the above-mentioned calamity, and as he was an admirer of Ariosto, I think he unintentionally repeated the Italian poet. I give both so that the reader may form his own opinion. The first is from an old transla- tion of Orlando Furioso : "T'was lamentable then to heare the cries, Of companies of every sort confused: In vain to heaven they lift up their hands and eyes, And make late vows such as in such case is used; For over them the wrathful sea doth rise, As though to give them care they had refused ; And make them hold their peace by hard constraint, And stopped the passage whence comes out the plaint." BjTon's description : "Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell! Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave; Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave ; 152 Our Book. Aud the sea yawned round her like a hell, And down she sucked with her the wliirling wave. Like one who grapples with liis enemy, And strives to strangle him before he die." Macaui.ay and IL K. White. Macanlay's sketch of tlie possibilities of the future is probably the best known of all his utterances, and cer- tainly there is no picture of desolation more impressive tlian the New Zealander standing in a vast solitude on a broken arch of London bridge, to sketch tlie ruins of St. Paul's church. One finds the same ideaj however, in a poem written by Henry Kirke White forty years previ- ously, as may be seen by the following quotation : "Where now is Britain? "Where her laurelled names Her palaces and halls? Dashed in the dust O'er her marts Her crowded ports broods silence ; and the cry Of the low curlew and the pensive dasli Of distant billows breaks alone tiie void; Even as the savage sits upon the stone That marks where stood her capitol and hears The bittern booming in the weeds he shrinks From the dismaying solitude.'' Bryant and Others. In writing Tbanatopsis Bryant made no claim to origi- nality, for in so old a theme it were impossible. There is, however, a very striking parallel between one portion of it and the utterance of Claudio in Measure for Meas- ure. Bryant writes thus : '' Earth that nourished thee shall claim Thy growth to be resolved to earth again; And lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements, To be a I)rother to the insensible rock, And to the sluggish clod." Shakespeare renders the san)e idea more forcibly in the above mentioned play : " Ay, but to die and go we know not where; To lie in cold alistraction and to rot, Plagiarism. 153 This seusiblc warm motiou to become A kneaded clod." Bryant's fine address to Lincoln reminds one of Wal- ler's enlogy on Cromwell. In the first we have the apostrophe : " O strong to strike and swift to spare," while Waller gives the same idea in the following less finished rhyme : " To pardon willing and to punish loath You strike with one hand but you heal with both." Coming down to Whittier, how much his Snow Bound reminds one of Burns' Cottager's Saturday Night, and yet this resemblance is of course unintentional. The reader however, may think that enough has been said on this subject, which indeed ranges through the whole field of literature. Even Yirgil in some things reproduces the Greek poets, and they in turn may be indebted to forgot- ten writers. Horace tells us tliere ^vere brave men before Agamemnon, and if so, then w^ere no doubt poets before Homer, some of whose utterances may have been re-pro- duced in the Iliad. Imaginary Plagiarism. While speaking on this subject allusion may be made to the notions uttered by Wordsworth. Tom Moore, who met the philosophic poet in London at a time when each had won distinction, says in his diary. " Wordsworth spoke of Byron's plagiarisms from him ; the whole third canto of Childe Harold founded on his style and sen- timents. The feeling of natural ob^'ects which is there expressed not caught by B. from nature herself, but from him (Words- worth) and spoiled in the transition. Tintern Abbey is the source of all — from which poem the celebrated passage about Solitude in the first canto of Childe Harold is taken, with this difference, that what is naturally expressed by him has been worked by Byron into a labored and antithetical sort of declamation." Reader, does not this sound like jealousy ? 20 154 Our Book. Speaking of plagiarism, it is interesting to see how Franklin was falsely subjected to this charge. He had been deeply impressed by an oriental tale which had such a scriptural tone that he occasionally read it aloud from the Bible, among his friends, to see whether they would detect the diflEerence. Eventually he gave away a copy (in England), and it soon afterward appeared in print as " communicated by Benjamin Franklin." An edition of his works was published in London just before the revo- lution and this tale was inserted, evidently without his knowledge. He was thus made to appear as its author, and a few years after his death an English critic accused him of stealing it from Jeremy Taylor, who obtained it from an ancient oriental work. The tale referred to is the " Parable on Persecution," and its lesson is certainly valuable, whatever be its origin. Remarkable Imitations. This allusioji to parallel passages leads to a brief refer- ence to that artificial resemblance which had become so frequent a feature in modern literature. The most re- markable instance is found in Rejected Addresses by Horace and James Smith, ^diich still retain their interest at the lajDSG of seventy years. The history of the volume maybe briefly given as follows: Drury Lane theatre, having been destroyed by fire in 1S12, was rebuilt, and the managing committee offered a prize for the best opening address. The Smiths were a pair of legal and literary brothers who had published some good things, and who also had a fair professional practice. One of them offered an address which was rejected, and this led the brothers to write a series of similar poems, imitating the style of Scott, Sonthey, Tom Moore, Byron, Cole- ridge, Wordsworth and other leading poets. The whole Plagiarism, 166 work was done in six weeks, and then tlie book was offered in turn to several publishers, each of whom de- clined it. At last an obscure dealer made the venture, and it proved an extraordinary success. The literary world was astonished by the felicity in which the best authors were taken off, for Byron and Scott are unpar- alleled imitations. The financial success was of corre- sponding value, and the publisher paid the authors £1,000 or $5,000 for one-half the copyright. It may be added that the names of the travestied authors were only given in initial — W. S. standing for Walter Scott, "W. W. for Wordsworth, K. S. for Southey — and in this manner a score of authors were served up in the most unexpected manner. The travesty of Scott was accepted by himself as a clever hit, and led to an acquaintance wjiich became true friendship. When Scott read it he said pleasantly, "Well, I must certainly have written those verses. If not they are a capital burlesque on the Battle of Flodden in Marmion." Wordsworth fared the worst, and the Smiths afterward felt that they had been too severe, but the poet took it in good nature, which is always the best way of meeting a joke. It should be added that the Drury Lane committee rejected all the offerings and asked Byron to furnish them with an opening address, which was spoken on the occasion. Father Prodt's Literary Joke. Rejected Addresses is the best literary joke the world has ever sec'n, but the talent and the ingenuity displayed by Francis Mahony in a similar vein certainly entitles him to the very next rank. As a linguist, however, he awakens still greater admiration, for lie displays consum- mate mastery, not only over our own language, but also 156 OuK Book. over Latin, French and Greek. Maliony was better known in tlie literary world as Father Prout, whose Reliques were collected from the periodicals in which they first appeared, and were honored by republication in book form, and with appropriate ilkistrations. Some years ago one of my friends, a self-educated man of more than ordinary intel- ligence, while speaking of Tora Moore, uttered a very earnest regret that so brilliant a poet should be merely a plagiarist. On my expressing surprise at this statement, he proceeded to explain by the assertion that he had a book which proved that some of Moore's best things were merely translations from Greek, Latin and French au- thors. I soon learned that the book referred to was Father Prout's Reliques, and I was obliged to inform my friend that he was simply the dupe of Mahony's learning and skill. In other words, Father Prout puts Moore's poetry with such perfect versification into the above- mentioned languages, that it might be difficult to decide which was M^-itten first. He then calls this alleged pla- giarism the Pogueries of Tom Moore, and says : " How often he plagued me to supply him with the original songs I had picked up in France, and he has transferred these foreign inventions into tlie Irisli Melodies. Some of the songs he would turn upside down, and others he would disguise in various shapes; but he would still worry me to supply him with the productions of the Gallic muse, ' for d'ye see old Prout,' the rogue would say: ' The best of all waye To lengthen our lays Is to steal a few thoughts from the French, my dear.' " It would be easy to point out detached fragments and stray met- aphors which he has scattered here and there in such gay confus- ion, that every page contains plagiarism enough to iiang him ; but, would you believe it, if you had not learned it from old Prout, that the very opening song of the collection " Go where glory waits thee,' is but a literal and servile translation of an old French ditty which is among my papers. I believe it to have been writ- ten by the Comptesse de Cliateaubriand, born in 1491. She was the favorite of Francis I, who, however, soon abandoned her, and, indeed, these linos appear to anticipate his iutidelity. They were written before the battle of Pavia. PLAGTAKISM. 157 CHANSON de la Comftt&se de Chateaubriand a Francois I. Va ou la gloire t'invite; Et quand d'orgueil palpite Ce cauir, qu'il pense a moi ! Quand Teloge enflamme 'J'oute I'ardeur dc ton ame, Pense encore a moi! Aiitres charmes peut-etre Tu voLidras connaitre, Autre amour en maitre Reguera sur toi; Mais quand ta levre presse Celle qui te caresse, Mechant, pense a moil Quand au soir tu erres Sous I'astre des bcrgeres, Pense aux doux instans Lorsque cette etoile, Qu'un beau ciel devoile, Guida deux amans! Quand la fleur, symbole D'ete qui s'euvole, Penclie sa tete molle, — S'exbalant a Fair, Pense a la guirlande, De ta mie I'offrande — Don qui fut si cher ! Quand la feuille d'automme Sons tes pas resonne, Pense alors a moi ! Quand de la famille L'antique foyer brille, Pense encore Ji moil Et si de la chanteuse La voix melodieuse Berce ton ame heureuse Et ravit tes sens, Pense a I'air que cliante Pour toi ton amante — Taut aimes accens! Pense alors a moi. "Any one who bas tbe sligbtest tincture of Frencb literature must recognize the simple and unsopbisticated style of a genuine love song in tbe above, tlie language being tbat of tbe century iu wbicb Clement Marot and Maitre Adam wrote their incomparable TOM MOORE'S Translation of this Song in the Irish Melodies. Go where glory waits thee ; But while fame elates thee Ob, still remember mc ! When ilie praise thou meete.st To thine ear is sweetest, Ob, then remember me! Other arms may press thee, Dearer friends caress thee — All the joys tbat bless thee Dearer far may be : But when friends are dearest, And when joys are nearest, Oh, then remember me 1 When at eve thou rovest By the star tlioulovest, Ob, then remember me! Think, when home returning. Bright we've seen it burning, Oh, then remember me ! Oft as summer closes. When thine eye reposes On its lingering roses, Once so loved by thee, Think of her who wove them— Her who made thee love them, Oh, then remember me ! When around thee dying. Autumn leaves are lying. Oh, then remember me! And at night when gazing. On the gay hearth blazing. Oh, still remember me! Then should music stealing All the soul of feeling. To thy heart appealing. Draw one tear from thee ; Then let memory bring thee Strains I used to sing t])ee — Oh, then remember me ! 158 OuK Book. ballads, find containing a kindly admixture of gentleness and sentimental delicacy, which no one but a ' ladye ' and a lovely heart could infuse into the composition. Moore has not been in- felicitous in rendering the charms of the wondrous original into English lines adapted to the measure and tune of the French. The air is plaintive and exquisitely beautiful ; but I recommend it to be tried first on the French words as it was sung by the charming lips of the Countess of Chateaubriand to the enraptured ear of the gallant Francis I." Having thus given Father Prout's opening of Lis "ex- ]iosnre '' of Moore's rogueries the reader may desire to see tliose additional proofs in Latin and even in Greek but lack of space prevents any additional extract. Moore, however, heartily relished the joke whicli probably will long remain unequaled. Paul and Ylrginta. Few of those who during their childhood were melted by this affecting story are aware that its author (St. Pierre) was a military man, and that its origin is due to the opera- tions of war. A military engineer sent from Paris to the Mauritius for the purpose of erecting a fort, became famous, not by his professional labors, but by the tale which he brought home. The Mauritius is a mere dot on the map and its insignificance in point of size may be infeiTed from the fact that the State of New York con- tains tliirty counties each of greater area, and yet what a place it liokls in literature. St. Pierre indeed almost ful- fills the idea of "giving an airy nothing a local habitation and a name." While the origin of the book is military, its appearance in our language is identified with scenes of bloodshed and horror. An English woman (Mrs. Helen Williams) who was living in Paris during the Reign of Terror found relief in translating St. Pierre's affecting tale which soon afterward was published in London. Mrs. Williams' state- ment, of which I give an extract, is certainly interesting: Gray and Goethe. 159 The following translation was written in Paris amid all tlie horrors of Robespierre's tyranny. During that gloomy epoch, it was ditHcult to find occupation whicli could cheat the days of calamity of their weary length. Society had vanished, and writ- ing, and even reading, was encompassed with danger. In that situation I gave myself the task of translating Paul and Virginia, and I found the most soothing relief, from my own gloomy reflec- tions in the enchanting scenes in the Mauritius. Gray and Goethe. Gray's Elegy is a household word. Reader, can you remember 3'onr first acquaintance with it? 1 cannot re- member mine. It is identified witli my youthful exist- ence, and its exquisite pictures are among the gems which I shall cherish to the last. One of the finest features in Gray's character is the honor whicli he paid to humanity in its humblest condition. His description of the life of the peasant throws a charm upon privation and even on poverty, and how touching is that appeal uttered in behalf of the lowly : " Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Tiieir humble joys and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The sliort^nd simple annals of the poor." At that time men of genius were generally seeking the patronage of the nobility. The patron advanced money liberally, and was repaid by a dedication. Savage had Lord Tyrconnell, and even Tom Moore, a century later, depended on Lord Moira. Gray, however, sought no favor of this kind. On the other hand, he expressed deep sympathy with that humiliation of genius when forced to pursue such a method. I once asked a young friend of more than usual perception to designate the finest verse in the elegy. The reply, which was as fol- lows, would no doubt have pleased the poet : " The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame; And heap the shrine of luxury and pride, With incense kindled at the muses' flame." 160 Our Book. In that day for an author to espouse the cause of the poor was to incur the risk of contempt. Gray not only did this, but portrays himself in the same colors in that epitaph which so appropriately closes the elegy : " He gave to misery — 't was all he had — a tear. He gained of heaven — 't was all he asked — a friend." Goethe will always be an interesting subject, but one of his most beautiful things is generally overlooked by lecturers and ci'itics. I refer to the idea of the eternal snnset which occurs in Faust. Goethe was one of that favored few whose genius is appreciated during life. Byron never met him, but as a testimony of admiration he dedicated his tragedy of Werner, and received a very appropriate acknowledgment. Byron was then about to make his voyage to Greece, whence he never returned alive, and he wrote to Goethe as follows : " I am going to Greece to see if T can be of any use there. If ever I come back, I will pay a visit to Weimar to offer the sincere homage of one of the many millions of your admirers. " The everlasting sunset was often suggested to me as I stood on Brooklyn Heights — then free from buildings — and saw the bay and its islands enveloped in all the gor- geous beauty of approaching evening. On such occasions I could exclaim w^ith the poet : " See how the green-girt cottages shimmer in the setting sun ! He bends and sinks. Yonder he hurries off to nourish new life ! O that I had wings to follow on — to see in everlasting evening beams the stilly world at my feet — every height on fire — every vale in repose! The rugged mountains, with their rude defiles — the heavens above me and be- neath me the waves." Severn and Keats. The erection of a monument of mutual honor to these Keats' Death. iGl men in tlie English cemetery at Home is a very interest- ing feature in the history of genius. But httle is known of Severn except that he was an artist. His kindness to Keats, however, has made him partner of the poet's fame, and that is the highest reward he could have asked. During the present aesthetic craze, Keats is nn justly claimed as belonging to this class. The only foundation for this claim, liowever, is found in that oft-quoted lino, " a thing of heauty is a joy forever." Keats was rather a reviver of the antique, as is shown by the very name of his principal work, Endymion, while his other productions are much of the same character. lie fell in love with the dreamy beauty of classic mythology, and endeavored to graft it on to modern poetry, and though he failed in bis attempt, he won an enduring place in literature. Keats' admiration for the classics was like Chatterton's mania for antique English, and they both found their true element in the mythic past. It was said that Keats died of the effect of a severe critique. His health, however, had been failing for several years, and he sailed for Italy in company with Severn but never returned. Shelley was his ardent admirer, and embalmed his memory in Adonais, which is the finest of mortuary poems. Byron wrote thus to Murray : " Is it true what Shelley whites me that poor John Keats died of the Quarterly Review? I am very sorry for it, though I think he took the M'l'ong line as a poet, and was spoiled by versifying Tooke's Pantheon and Lempriere's classical dictionary. I know by experience that a savage review is hemlock to a suckling author, and the one on myself knocked me down, but I got up again. Instead of bursting a blood vessel I drank three bottles of claret and began an answer. I would not, however, be the author of the homicidal article for all the honor and glory of the world." Byron 21 162 Odk Boojc. with all his sj'^mpathy could not avoid taking a humorous view of this sad case, which he thus presents: "John Keats — wlio was killed off by one critique, Just as lie really promised something great, If not intelligible — without Greek — Contrived to talk about the Gods of late, Much as they might be supposed to speak, Poor fellow, his was an untoward fate.'' It is however far better for his fame that Keats died in Rome since this identifies him with the eternal cit3\ His grave is one of the shrines of genius and he rests in the spot of whicli he said it is so beautiful that it ahnost made one in love with death to think of being buried there. A few montlis afterward tlie heart of his friend Shelley was laid by his side. How strange it seems that of those three English poets who were in Italy at the same time (Byron, Shelley and Keats) not one should return to his native land, except the former, Avho, however, only went back in his coffin. Of this trio Byron will always be the most generally read because his poetry is emotional, while Shelley will be the least, because his is solely intellectual. Keats holds a place between them, and hence has his share of readers. His St. Agnes Eve is a series of wonderful pictures, each finished with exquisite touch, but the most powerful of all his appeals to the emotional nature is found in a couple of stanzas which illustrate those painful changes whicli time inflicts upon the tender and sensitive heart. The closing lines are as follows: "Oh, would 'twere so with many A gentle girl and boy; But was there ever any . Writhed not at passed joy? "To know a change and feel it, Where there is naught to heal it. Nor numbed sense to steel it, Was never said in rhyme." Keats and Drake. 163 While speaking of Keats, let ns look at the striking parallel which holds between him and Joseph Rodman Drake. On the Tth of August. 1795, the latter was born in New York, and on the 29th of the following October Keats was born in London. When grown to adolescence both studied medicine, and Drake was admitted to prac- tice. On the 21st of September, 1820, the latter died in New York of consumption, and on the 21st of February, 1821, just six months afterward, Keats died at Rome of the same disease. Ilis entire life was three months longer than that of Drake. These young and ill-fated contemporaries never heard of each other. Drake's best poetry was published only a year before his death, and the same may be said of Keats. The latter displays more genius than Drake, but both will live in the chronicles of literature. The death of each inspired the highest order of elegiac poetry. Halleck's verses on Drake, beginning " Green be the turf above thee," and Shelley's Adonais are among the best of either author's productions, and both are rich in pathos. Coleridge. Charles Lamb, his school-day friend, apostrophises him thus in after life : "Come back unto memory like as thou wert in the day spring of thy fancies, with hope like a fiery column before thee — the dark pillar not yet turned — Samuel Taylor Coleridge — logician — metaphysician, bard ! How have I seen the casual passer through the cloister stand still, entranced with admiration (while he weighed the disproportion between the speech and the garb) to hear thee unfold in thy deep and sweet intonations the mysteries of Jamblicus or Elotinus, or reciting Homer or Pindar, while the walls re-echoed the accents of the inspired charity boy," How strange it seems that this wonderful genius should have been addressed by Lamb in his letters, as " Dear Col." The first man who undertook to make the lecture plat- 164 OuK Book. form profitable in England was Coleridge, and he would have succeeded had it not been for his inveterate procras- tination. Being a born genius, ho did not consider him- self amenable to any of the ordinary rules of society, and his indifference to appointments soon destroyed public confidence. As a conversationist Coleridge held a dis- tinction equal to that of Gough in oratory. By this I mean to say that neither Britain nor America ever beheld his equal. When he spoke all others were hushed in admiration, and had he simply talked to an audience he would have not lacked for hearers. He was, however, so forgetful of his appointments that it destroyed his chance of success, and this happened once in Bristol and twice in London. Prof. Wilson, of Edinburgh, said of Coleridge : " There is nothing more wonderful than the facile majesty of his world of imagery, which starts up before us like the palace of Aladdin. He ascends to the sublimest truths by a winding track of sparkling glory, which can only be described in his own language." Dibdin says that at one focial entertainment he "heard Coleridge hold the group spellbound for nearly two hours." Such was the founder of the lecture system in England, and he himself is the richest theme for a lecture to be found in our language. Coleridge's Crime. Coleridge was the chief literary mendicant of the age. He was a charity scholar during boyhood, and his univer- sity life was of the same nature. During his subsequent career he was considered a literarj'- beggar by those who knew him best — this being due to his slavery to the opium appetite. In reality the greatest poetic genius of the nineteenth century was what in common parlance is called " a dead beat." He was often a vagrant, leaving AuTOBIOGKArilY. 165 Lis wife and children to be supported by his brother-in- law Southey, who, tliough far less gifted, was an indus- trious plodder, and tlms made literature profitable. Coleridge was conscious of the crime he committed by yielding to his appetite, and his mental sufferings were often beyond the power of language. When Cottle wrote his description of Coleridge's condition and sent it to John Foster, the latter replied thus : " It is as melan- choly an exhibition as I ever contemplated. Why was such a sad phenomenon to come in sight on earth ? Was it to abase the pride of human intellect and genius ? " Cottle's picture of the poet, then only forty-two, includes the wild eye, the sallow countenance, the tottering step and the trembling hand. At this time Coleridge wrote to Cottle that he wished to be placed in an asylum. No wonder indeed, since Cottle says that " opium had so completely subdued his will that he seemed carried away without resistance, as by an overwhelming flood." Cot- tle's sketch of Coleridge was published as a warning to others and his sense of dut}' triumphed over friendship. As an illustration of the pauperism to which this bondage had reduced the author, it may be said that having aban- doned his family to Southey's care, and having no home, he accepted, at the above-mentioned age, the invitation of Dr. Gilman, with whom he remained till his miserable life terminated, nineteen years afterward. Dr. Gilman was an admirer of his genius, and the name of Coleridge was no doubt advantageous as an addition to professional dignity. Adtobiogkapuy. As a feature in literary entertainment autobiography has a long admitted value and almost every profession has been illustrated. Men love to tell what they have done, and this led Ca3sar to write the history of the Gal- 166 Our Book. lie war in which, however, he judiciously speaks of him- self in the third person. Turning from war to religion the earliest work of the kind is Augustin's Confessions, which have survived their author 1,400 years. Bunyan's Grace Abounding is another remarkable self- portrayal, and to these may be added John J^ewton's personal nar- rative, also the Force of Truth by the commentator Scott, which gives a sketch of his profound experience. Tlie three most important literary biographies are Boswell's Johnson, Lockiiart's Scott, and the Life and Letters of Washington Irving by his nephew, Pierre M. Irving. The first gives a view of literary society in Lon- don from the days of Pope almost to the close of the eighteenth century. Tlie second includes Edinburgh and London, and gathers around the great master that array of lesser lights which give such additional interest to the theme, while the third combines British and American literature, and shows the first permanent hold which the latter gained on the former, while it details those early struggles through which the first great American author reached success. Dka]viatic Autobiographt. Actors when forced into retirement, love to repeat their triumphs. Hence the drama has an unusual num- ber of autobiographers, such as Colley Gibber, Mrs. Bellamy, Mrs. Inchbald, Grimaldi, Mrs. Anna Gora Mo watt and the London manager Alfred Bunn. Ma- cready's personal memoirs, however, will always hold pre'cedence, not only on account of his genius, but also because of the honesty with which he exposes his own weakness and faults. Those who knew the irritability which marked this gifted tragedian will see it often made the subject of regret in his diary, especially when it led Autobiography. 167 Jiim under a sudden impulse of wrath to strike Manager Bunn — an assault which not onlj cost him £150 (equal to $750), but also an immense amount of vexation. Macready also gives one an interesting view of his court- ship and marriage, and then his emotions on retiring from the stage are solemn and grand. Literary Autobiographies. Literary people live such quiet lives that they can hardly expect to interest the public and yet they have produced some very readable books of this kind. De Quincey made the attempt which contains some fascinat- ing descriptions of early scenes, but it does not extend to that part of his life in which the public is most deeply in- terested— the yielding to the opium habit. His "Con- fessions," however, are really an autobiography — the most fearful one indeed in the whole range of sensational literature. Madame D'Arblay, author of Evelina, pub- lished her memoirs after reaching fourscore, and they present some interesting scenes in which Johnson occa- sionally appears. Johnson himself attempted a similar effort which unfortunately never extended over more than a few pages, but even these are quaintly interesting, and the following extract is really curious : "In Lent I was taken to London to be touched for the evil (scrofula) by Queen Anne. I remember a boy crying at the palace when I went to be touched. My mother bought me a speckled linen frock which afterward was called the London frock. She also bought two teaspoons and till my manliood she never had any more." The above is the latest record of " touching," bflt in earlier days it was supposed that the royal touch was highly efficacious, and this is the reason the scrofula was so generally called the " king's evil." Johnson, in refer- ring to the queen, said he had " a confused but solemn 1G8 Our Book. recollection of a lady in diamonds and a long black hood." What a kind hearted monarch. Gibbon, at the age of fifty-three, wrote an elaborate autobiography, which is one of the most delightful books of the kind. He ex- pected to live to old age, but died suddenlj^ two years after finishing his personal narrative. Walter Scott began an autobiography, but did not con- tinue it through his most active scenes. His diary, how- ever is of the same nature, and gives impressive views of his greatness and his misfortunes. Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna, who was much in vogue among religious readers a quarter of a century ago, gave her autobiography the title of Personal Recollections, and it was for a while very popular. Byron and Moore. Byron also had an autobiographical turn, as may be seen from his fragments which allude to personal history. Among these is Extracts from a Journal, also Detached Thoughts which appear to be the true utterance of his heart. The powder with which the details of life attracted Byron shows that he would have been an excellent autobi- ographer — though of course his views would have been discolored by prejudice. He actually wrote his memoirs and placed the manliscript in the hands of Moore, his most intimate friend, wath privilege of publication after death. Moore sold the manuscript to Murray for a sum equal to $10,000, but after Byron's death his friends ob- jected to the publication and refunded the money. The manuscript was then burned. The only American who ever read this memoir was Irving, to whom Moore con- fided it as a matter of friendship. Tom Moore's journal during the most active part of his life was published by his literary executor, and is re- markable for its fulness of detail. It covers twenty-eight Autobiography. 1C9 years, and one cannot but be surprised at the minute nar- ration of men and also of opinions, conversations and in- cidents. It introduces the reader to the literati of that day in something of the Boswell style. In addition to this however, the poet began a personal narrative which he brought down to his twenty-first year, at which time he entered society, hut unfortunately it was discontinued. Moore's Journal closes sadly. He was then sixty-seven and six years afterw^ard he was laid in the grave. Public Men. Thurlow Weed's autobiography like the personal rec- ords of Thomas II. Benton and James G. Blaine illustrate public affairs, and John Quincy Adams kept an ample diary during all his public life which is now found of much value as a work of reference. In England Horace Walpole, and also Wraxall, preserved personal and public records, which are now read with interest by all who de- sire to study the history of the times. Franklin's auto- biography is highly instructive, and should be generally read by the young because of its lessons of thrift. All who read it must regret its brevity. Greeley's KecoUectious of a Busy Life gives a thrilling picture of that long strug- gle through which his character was perfected and his mighty work accomplished. The most important work of this kind, as well as the most widely circulated, is General Grant's personal memoirs. They will never be paralleled. IIow fortunate that the hero's life was spared until he had told the un- varnished tale of his wonderful achievements, and how impressive is the simple and unassuming utterance, "I commanded the whole of the mighty host engaged on the victorious side." It is this which gives such grandeur to his memorable utterance, "LET US HAVE PEACE." 170 OuK Book. The earliest autobiograpliy written in our language is that of Lord Herbert, who died in 1648, being then sixt}'- seven. He was a prominent man both in court and camp, and held several important stations in which he won high honor. His latter daj's were devoted to the preparation of his memoirs, which he left for posthumous publication. The civil wars however prevented this. Charles I was beheaded the following year, and then came a series of national changes which impaired the progress of litera- ture, and Plerbert's MSS. lay in neglect. A century passed by and yet the author's plan had not been carried out. At last Horace Wal pole's attention was called to the work. He was a man of wealth, and being a pro- fessed virtuoso in literature and art, had established a, private printing press at his residence — where he printed Herbert's memoii's one hundred and sixteen years after the death of their author. Criminal Autobiography. The tendency of bad men to glory in evil deeds is too common to attract special notice, but there is one instance which holds distinction from its combination of learning and general ability, both of mind and body, with a strange crookedness which perverted all his gifts to evil. This is found in the autobiography of Stephen Burroughs, in which the details of a bad life are given in so racy a manner that it occasions amusement rather than censure. In fact the reader might imagine it to be a fiction and I really had some idea of this kind but it was effectually removed by the following incident : While looking through a collection of rare books I found an old copy of the life of Stephen Burroughs, on the fly leaf of which was pasted aii autograph letter written by Burroughs him- self and dated in some jail where he was held for crime. Adtodtoorapmy. 1'71 It is said that Burroughs reformed in the latter part of his life and became a useful member of societ}'. lie was a native of New England but died in Canada. Another autobiography identified with fraud is that written by the literary impostor who called himself George Psalmanazar, but who eventually confessed that it was only an assumed name. The book is by no means inter- esting and indeed its only importance is found in its coimection with that history of Formosa which was the great literary fraud of its day. It is imbued with repent- ance for his imposture and this leads him to withhold both his name and nationality. He admits however, tliat he was an opium eater and may be mentioned as the first instance of the kind in the literary record. Tliis book is entitled " Memoirs of , commonly known as George Psalmanazar — a reputed native of Formosa. Printed for the Executrix 176-i." He left it to the woman with whom he boarded, but as I insert his entire will in another part of this volume, the reader can refer to it if he desire any more information on the subject. The popularity of autobiography is shown by the fic- tions which take tliis shape, such as Gil Bias and Robinson Crusoe and even Dante's Inferno is in some respects a personal narrative. Readers like to have the hero of a book tell his own story. Even tlie egoism of autobiography has a charm and Montaigne, whose egoism is so fascinat- ing, says in reference to his book "finding myself empty of other matter I presented inj^self to myself for an argument and subject." How vacant our literature would be were it shorn of autobiography. Twice Mentioned Book. Speaking of autobiography there was a book of this 172 Our Book. kind written more than a century ago which no doubt had some merit, and yet I have only seen it mentioned twice, and if it be in existence it certainly would be a great curiosity. Walter Scott mentions among the books which he read during his youth one called " Automa- thes," and Gibbon in his autobiography writes as fol- lows : "I was delivered at the age of seven into the hnnds of Mr. John Kirkby, who exercised for eighteen months the office of domestic tutor. He was tlie author of a Latin grammar vand also of the Life of Automathes — the story of a youth the son of a shipwrecked exile who lives alone on a desert island from infancy to manhood. A barbarian is his nurse; he inherits a cottage and some useful implements; some ideas remain of the education of his first two years; some ideas he borrows from the beavers of an adjacent stream; some truths are revealed in visions. With these helps and his own industry Automathes becomes a self- taught though speechless philosopher. The book is not devoid of entertainment and instruction and among other interesting pass- ages I would select the discovery of fire." A book which interested Walter Scott and of which Gibbon thus speaks must have some real merit, and yet were it not for the mention made by these two authors I should never have known its existence. Authors and their Correspondence. The publication of literary correspondence is a modern feature in literature — beginning with the wits of Queen Anne's reign. The letters of Swift, Gay and Bolingbroke which have been o-athered to2:ether and issued in book shape afford an interesting view of literary life in that day, but on the other hand few of either Addison or Fielding's letters have been preserved. Pope's letters were published by himself as he said in order to prevent a surreptitious and imperfect edition. The latter was threatened by Curl, the bookseller, who had got possession of a sufificient number to make a small volume and Pope tried to suppress them by legal measures. This added Popular Letter Writers. 173 much to public interest but it declined when tlie corre- spondence appeared as the latter had but little merit. Lady Mary Wortley Montague, though hated by Pope, was vastly more popular as a letter vvriter. Chesterfield's letters were once widely read but arc now but little known. They are addressed to a son who went while a child to the continent, and contain a valuable series of lessons in history adapted to a juvenile mind. It is surprising, in- deed, to see one of the busiest statesman of his day, thus adapting himself to a child's requirements. Later on, however, he gave those counsels concerning manners which seem only intended for a " man of the world." Gray's letters are but little read, being too artificial, while on the other hand the simple unassuming but ele- gant letters of Cowper hold high rank in literary corre- spondence. Charles Lamb's letters have recently been published and fill two volumes. In point of religious value the letters of John Newton bear the palm. Burns' letters are interesting, and Walter Scott was really inimitable. His combination of ease, vivacity and humor always fascinates me and I am never weary of his letters. Johnson's letters have some points of interest though often gloomy. His letter to Chesterfield is the most powerful thing of the kind in literature. Published cor- respondence is becoming more popular than ever, and the life and letters of Irving have had an extensive sale. Irving was a delightful correspondent. Tom Moore's letters may be mentioned as showing an admirable degree of domestic affection, which seems in strong contrast with Byi-on, Coleridge, Shelley, and some other men of genius Moore's letters to his mother indeed are remarkable for free utterance and for tender sentiments. His entire correspondence covers an extent of twenty-fiv^e years and includes four hundred letters. 174 OuK Book. Horace "Walpole having plenty of time became an un- usuall}' copious correspondent, and his letters fill a half dozen volumes. The letters of Burns and Charles Lamb are marked by those shadows that often fall upon genius. The former writes that " he wished he could resign life as an officer resigns a commission," and the latter tells Cole- ridge, " I don't know why I write, except from the pro- pensity misery has to tell her grief. Hetty (the servant) died Friday night. Mary (his sister) is fallen ill (insane) again. I was obliged to remove her yesterday, and I am left alone in the house with nothing but Hetty's dead body to kc'-p me company." When, however, the clouds passed away Lamb's letters were full of peculiar humor. Byron's letters number six hundred and thirty-five and are really the most ci'isp and racy of all such productions. They have the charm of piquant gossip and are so full of hits at the literati of that day that the reader is often in an unconscious smile. It is sad to notice, however, the deficiency in true sentiment, and. the only one that has any serious aspect is his reply to the clergyman which seems to me a sad confession of an ill-directed life. How strange, considering that he was such an admirer of the sex, that hardly a dozen of his published letters are ad- dressed to women. They were chiefly written to John Murray his publishei', or to his devoted friend Tom Moo]-e, who afterward became his biographer, the propor- tion being two hundred and twenty -three to the former, and one hundred and twentj^-four to the latter. Three- fifths of the whole number arc thus addressed to two persons, the others being divided among a half dozen others. The occasional slurs at his wife show that he never for- gave her for checkmating him so neatly — by turning a visit home into a permanent separation. He felt that she Popular Lettek Wkiteks. 175 liad got the better of hiin in the matrimonial difficulties, and hence he never returned to England, althongh he often expressed a desire to do so. The above-mentioned correspondence was chiefly written during liis eight years of foreign life, closing at Missolonghi, and the last is only dated two weeks prior to his death. Dickens' corre- sj)ondence shows that he too was an admirable letter writer. Coming still nearer home it may be said that the most remarkable series of letters, in point of extent at least, is the correspondence maintained by James W. Alexander with John Hall of Trenton. Both were active clergymen, friends from boyhood, and men of con- genial tastes. They corresponded foi' forty years, and Hall published Alexander's letters, thus giving the world a charming series of brief outflows of incident and opinion. The writer of this certainly feels deeply indebted to Hall for his addition to literary correspondence. Latimer's Sermons. The sermons of Latimer, who suffered martyrdom three centuries ago, have been republished lately, and are considered fine sj^ecimens of earnest preaching. The faithful martyr was very severe on the fashion worshipers of his day. Let me give modern hearers a sample of old-fashioned preaching in the matter of wonum's apparel concerning which Latimer discourses as follows : "What was her swadlj'ng cloth wherein holy Mary layed the kyng of heaven and earth? No doubt it was poor gure; perad- venture it was her kercliiefe which she took from her head, or such like gere, for I think Mary had not much fine gere. She was not trimmed up as our women are now-a-dayes, for I think in tlie olde tyme women were content with honest and single gar- ments. Now they have found out these rounde aboutes ; they were not invented then ; the devil was not so cunnyng to make such gere; he found it out afterward. Therefore Mary had it not." 176 Odk Book. Speaking of " rounde aboiites," -vvliat would tlie preacher have said to the ladies' jackets of modern days? Per- haps however no more than might be uttered in the way of censure of the other sex. Dickens' Early Success. Looking backward to the advent of Dickens to the American public, I am much surprised to observe how slow our great publishers were to acknowledge his power. In 1838 a petty book-seller in Chatham street named James Turney, commenced the issue of a monthly humorist, with caricature plates, called the Pickwick Papers. It was extensively read, but failed to get above clerks and apprentices, who were charmed with Sam Weller and the fat boy. There were but two episodes in the whole book which indicated the hidden power of the author. These were the fragment found in a mad house, and the dying scene of the pantomimist. A few months subsequently I was visiting at the family of one of our most scientific men who read the Pickwick Papers with delight, and who told me that their design was in part to ridicule the false sci- ence of the day, and the tendency to form societies of in- vestigation, which then were all the rage. Almost every town in England had some gathering of would-be sci- entists, whose proceedings were glorified in monthly reports. To ridicule this Dickens invented the Pickwick Club, whose object was to travel for the purpose of investigat- ing both scenes and phenomena of an important charac- ter. The very name Pickwick refers to the use of the midniffht oil so often mentioned in connection with stu- o dent life. As the work advanced this feature was neg lected in favor of the more humorous and social scenes; The Course of Time. ITt but it was still retained until the close, and Mr. Pickwick will always be the caricature of the kind-hearted and blundering philosopher, whose mistakes and misfortunes keep the reader in perpetual glee. It was not however, until Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby appeared that their author reached full recogni- tion as a genius, and even those books, like the Pickwick Papers were neglected by the leading publishers. Hence the contrast between the past and the present in the Dickens literature is one of the notable things of the age. The Course Of Toie. One of the peculiarities of this remarkable poem is that the seventh book was written lirst, for after making this be- ginning the author remodelled his plan. Pollok, like Henry Kirke White, struggled with bitter poverty, as well as ill health, and died just as he had conquered fame. "White, during his youth, labored at a loom, and Pollok tried chair making. In each instance education was obtained through the exertion of self-denying kindred, and Pollok said of his parents and sisters, " I know so well their ina- bility to assist me, that every shilling I spend tortures my soul." Each had the ministry in view, but never fulfilled the expectation, White dying at twenty-two and Pollok at twenty-eight. The latter while writing his poem had eternity in full view, for his frame was sinking and much of the work was done in bed. Each is identified with Byron whose " Darkness " suggested the Course of Time, which contains his pen picture. White's unconscious in- fluence over Byron is referred to on page 116. Variations in Taste. A noticeable feature in literature is the attention now 23 178 Our Book. paid to the writers of the eighteenth century, recalling the coarse but pungent Swift, the classical Addison, the rollicking Fielding, the latinized Johnson, the piquant Goldsmith, the thundering Junius, the inflated Gibbon, and the emotional Burns, closing with the grandeur of Burke. It is certainly a point of distinction in the lit- erary record of the eighteenth century that it gave Pope and Burns to the world. The former was immensely popu- lar in his day, and the neglect which his woi ks afterward suffered was mentioned by Byron as one of the worst signs of the decay of taste. True enough ; and when the proper standard was restored, the popularity of Pope was renewed. Wordsworth was at that time the so-called " high priest of nature," and the new school then opening threatened a speedy oblivion to the author of the Dunciad. Byron, whose perceptions in literature were always accurate, assumed the defense of Pope and affirmed that he would survive the poets of that age — a fact whose reality is now very clear. Southej^ is utterly dead and buried. So is Landor ; Coleridge is only known by a few of his best things. Shelley is neglected, and Wordsworth is only known to a small circle of admirers. It is one of the curious incidents of student life that Gibbon, when only twenty, corrected a Paris university professor. lie found in the speech of Hannibal (in Livy) a sentence, which, as he says, " cannot be reconciled by any torture, with his character or argument. The commen- tators dissemble or confess their per]>lexity. It occurred to me that the change of a single letter {otio instead of odio) might restore a clear and consistent sense." He wrote at once to Professor Crevier, who had edited an edition of Livy, and his correction was accepted. Gibbon, however, afterward erred greatly in adopting an inflated style, Variations in Taste. 170 and Noah Webster, then editor of the American Magazine, piibhshed hi 1788, keenly, but correctly, says, "his style is uniformly the worst model of historical style that has appeared in our language." The American Critic resisted the applause which this artificial style at first awoke, but public opinion has long approved Webster's censure. It was Dryden's weakness to imagine that he could improve Shakespeare by altering both Troilus and Cres- sida and the Tempest, thus setting a bad example to other literary tinkerers. To return to Wordsworth it may be said that he affords the only instance of an author making a suggestion which was afterward fulfilled by a crime of the most horrible character. I refer to the following lines: *'Sw3et is the lore that nature brings, Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things, We murder to dissect." The poet lived to read the trial of Burke and Hare for committing several murders, the victims being sold for dissection, and 1 need hardly add that the crime was expiated on the gallows. E.0BINS0N Crusoe and its Author. This is the only book of that date which has grown in popularity with the flight of time. Rousseau was so de- lighted with it that it was to form the sole library of Emile (Rousseau's perfectly educated young man), while Johnson said it was one of the small number of books of which he was never tired. The first edition was issued in 1719, and only six copies of the first volume are known to be in existence, two of which are in Amer'ca. The 180 Ouu Book. author was fiftj-eight when it first appeared, and he sur- vived its publication only eleven years. The author of Robinson Crusoe was a strange combination of religion, trade, politics and imagination, who went through the most varied experience ever connected with literature. Daniel De Foe was the son of a London butcher, and became a preacher. He was born more than two centu- ries ago, and as politics were more congenial than the pul- pit, he devoted himself to public questions, which he handled with great courage and power. He also was en- gaged in merchandise, but failed in a disastrous manner. He then became more radical in politics than ever, and was arrested for the severity of his attacks on the House of Commons. He was fined, and not only placed in the pillory, but imprisoned two years. None of these severi- ties, however, could abate his love of liberty. After he had reached his fifty-eighth year he wrote Robinson Crusoe as an amusement. How strange that it should be the sole basis of his fame ! He issued two hundred and ten publications, and yet this is the only one that sur- vives. De Foe lived twelve years after the appearance of this work, and saw its popularity. He died in his seventieth year, a few months before the birth of Wash- ington — with whom he is worthy of mention in patri- otic connection. Djnng insolvent, he left tlie follow- ing couplet as a picture of his life. " No man has tasted different fortunes more, And thirteen times have I been rich and poor." Authors and Dogs. It is interesting to notice what power dogs have, in some cases, held over men of genius ! Hogarth was de- cidedly a canine amateur, and introduced this animal into liis best works, including his own portrait. His com- panion in the latter is a bull-dog, v/hich appears to have Authors and Dogs. 181 been his favorite breed. Turiiin*^ from painters to au- thors, there is the case of Byron, who found in the death of " Boatswain " an early bereavement. The animal had a respectful bui-ial, and was honored by a monument witli the following inscription : " Near this spot Are deposited the remains of one Who possessed beauty without vanity, Strengtli witliout insolence, Courage without ferocity, And all tlie virtues of man without his vices. Tiiis praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over human ashes. Is but a just tribute to the memory of Boatswain — a dog, Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey, November 18, 1808." Byron built a vault for his dog and also for himself, including his faithful servant Joe Murray. He did not wish to be placed in the ancestral tomb in Hucknell church, and hence inserted the following clause in his will : "I desire that my body may be buried in the vault in the gar- den at Newstead, without any ceremony or funeral service, and no inscription except name and age. It is also my wish that my faithful dog may not be removed from said vault." His e.xecutors, however, did not obey this injunction, and the interment was in the family tomb. Joe Murray was buried elsewhere, and hence Boatswain lies " alone in his gloi-y." Byron wrote an elegiac poem on the death of this favorite, part of which is as follows : " When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth ; The sculptor's art exiiausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rest below ; When all is done upon the tomb is seen. Not what he was, but what he should have been. But the poor dog, in life the warmest friend. The first to welcome and the foremost to defend , Whose honest heart is still his master's own ; Who labors, fights, lives and breathes for him alone; 182 OuK Book. Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied in heaven the soul he holds on earth; While man, vain insect, hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven. Scott and His Dogs. Scott's first canine favorite was " Camp," whose death was very severely felt. Lockhart says: "My wife (Sophia Scott) tells me she remembers the whole family standing in tears about the grave, as her father smoothed down the turf above Camp — with the saddest expres- sion she had ever seen on his face. Maida, however, was the most celebrated, and after death was honored with a tombstone and epitaph. Lockhart speaks of Maida as one of the noblest dogs that ever shared the fellowship of man. His portrait appears both in the pictures of Sophia and also in that of the author himself, and he was introduced into Woodstock under the name of Bevis. Even Homer, the earliest of poets, has his dogs, and Telemachus, when returning from his protracted wander- ings, though unknown to the attendant, is thus recognized : '' The prince's near approach the dogs descry, And fawning round his feet, confessed their joy." Still, more pathetic is the welcome of Ulysses, who was also unknown to all but his dog, which died for joy : Thus near the gates conferring as they drew, Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew, He not unconscious of the voice and tread Lifts to tlie sound his ear and rears his head. ********* Tlie dog whom fate had granted to behold, His lord when twenty tedious years had rolled ; Takes a last look, and having seen him dies, So closed forever faithful Argus' eyes. Suppressed Wokks. The most remarkable instance was the effort made by the German government to suppress Dr. Mackenzie's Suppressed Woeks. 183 book concerning the treatment of tlie late emperor. In general literatnre may be mentioned Motley's first book called Morton's Hope. When the author became known as an historian, he was ashamed of his early pro- duction, and carefully destroyed all the copies he could obtain. In the same manner James Fenimore Cooper suppressed his first novel, which was called Precaution, and Whittier suppressed his glowing tribute to L. E. L. Dickens suppressed a comic opera, which was issued among his early productions. Byron tried to suppress that portion of his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, which reflects so severely on Walter Scott. He mucli regretted his severe and unwarrantable sarcasm, and apolo- gized to the author in a very candid manner. Scott sup- pressed his poem called the Battle of Waterloo. It was hastily written, being for the benefit of the sufferers, and was so inferior as to be unworthy of preservation. Cowpcr had a still more bitter feeling concerning his John Gilpin. It got beyond his power, and therefore ho could not suppress it ; but the memory of so comic a pro- duction added to the woe of that madness which for years threw its horrors over his soul. Washington Irving suppressed the satirical dedication of Knickerbocker History to the Historical Society. Wordsworth wisely suppressed a tragedy, and Charles Lamb suppressed his bitter retort on his old friend Southey — but not until after its publication brought a kind explanation, and their friendship was renewed. The gentle Elia, when provoked, could dip his pen in gall. Gibbon suppressed his first book Essai sur r etude de la Literature. It had run out of print, and the appear- ance of his history awoke curiosity for his early effort. The publisher desired to issue another edition, but the author refused. He did not, however, conceal his satis- 184 OuE Book. faction at seeing it sell as a curiosity, for six times the original price. Coming down to modern times a prominent New York house published the adventures of Arthur Gordon Pym from an Enghsh edition, supposing it to be a record of actual discovery ; but as soon as they learned that it was a fiction by the ingenious Edgar A. Poe, they suppressed the entire edition. The Suppressed Byron. Two books relating to Byron were suppressed, one being his personal memoirs — to which I shall make later reference — while the other was the Dallas collection of correspondence. Bobert C. Dallas was a prominent litera- teur and, as his sister married Byron's uncle, this led to an acquaintance with the poet who found him useful in revising his early productions and seeing them through the press. Dallas superintended the publication, both of English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, and also Childe Harold, and as a token of gratitude Byron gave him the copyright of the latter which brought £4,000 — equal to $2(>,000. Dallas obtained Byron's correspondence with his mother, and also other family letters, and as soon as the poet died he announced his intention to publish them. It would certainly have been a sensational book and would have had large sale, l)ut the family opposed any revela- tions of the dark scenes in the poet's life and obtained an injunction — much to the regret of London gossipers. Dallas however wrote a series of reminiscences of the poet, but it was a hurried work and did not satisfy the public. It may be added that Robert C. Dallas was uncle of the late George M. Dallas, vice-president under Polk. Algerink Captive. 185 Eoyal Tyler wrote the first American drama tliat reached public performance, bnt really the earliest play printed in this country was the Prince of Parthia, which was published in Philadelphia in 1707. The author was Thomas Godfrey, who was successively a watchmaker, an artist, a soldier, and a merchant, as well as a poet, and yet hardly has a place in literature. Royal T} ler also wrote the first American tale, called the Algerine Captive. It went through two editions, but is now almost unknown. It has no plot, and the author's object seems to have been to show up the errors of the times, and especially the disgrace in paying ti'ibute to the Algerines for the privilege of sailing in the Mediterranean unmolested. It now seems almost incredible that the United States was ever subjected to this humiliation, but such is history. Our government, however, eventually sent a squadron to Algiers under Decatur who soon taught that nation of pirates to respect our flag. The author pub- lished his book with a pen name and the title was as fol- lows: The Algerine Captive, or the life and adventures of Dr. Updike Underbill, six years a prisoner among the Algerines. The book was popular and Tyler perhaps would have pursued fiction, but the very next year — 1798 — Charles Brockden Brown's first novel appeared and this checked all rivalry. I have seen but one copy of the first edition of the Alge- rine Captive, and as the book is not to be found in the Astor Librai-y it must be indeed rare. The print is very good and so is the paper, and it is highly probable that this was an un- usually elegant effort of typographical art. The chapters are short and are garnished with those poetic captions which once were in common use but are now discontinued. The book is autobiographical, and the author tells of his early life in New England, and then gives his experi- 24 186 Our Book. ence as a school-master, boarding 'round and taking paj in barter. He then becomes a pliysician and attempts practice in a small village, where the medical faculty coin- prised the cheap doctor, the learned doctor, the safe doc- tor and the musical doctor. The author received so small an amount of patronage under this rivalry that he determined to go south, and on reaching Philadelphia called on Franklin, who received him with much kind- ness. In this connection the author gives some of those anecdotes of the great philosopher which have been gen- erally copied but are original here. From Philadelphia the author journeys to Fredericksburg, but finding no encouragement sails for London as a ship surgeon, and while there he meets Thomas Paine, of whom he gives a very neat pen picture. On July 18, 1Y88, the author sails in the ship Sympa- thy for Africa, the object being to bring a cargo of slaves to South Carolina. The reader will understand that the name of the vessel is in itself a satire, the author's object being to expose some of the horrors of the slave trade. They reach the slave coast and take in a cargo, but he, with some others who remain too long on shore, are cap- tured by a Moorish privateer and carried to Algiers, where by way of retribution they are made slaves. It may be said that the Algerine Captive, being the first Ameri- can fiction, is a very creditable beginning of a specialty which now seems almost boundless. The aullior portrays life as he found it, and if his followers in fiction have ex- celled him they cc>rtainly have had a broader field. The de- velopment of society, indeed, is fully equal with all advance in literature. Walpole Wits. Could Horace Walpole have designated the character of the New Hampshire village which should bear the familj' Walpole "Wits. 187 name he could hardly have been more felicitous. How strange it now seems that Walpole should have been one of the most important literary centers ! This was at the beginning of the present centm-y, but still it is worth}' of remembrance. Isaiah Thomas was a printer at that place, and though he afterward concentrated his efforts at Wor- cester he did some of his best work in Walpole, and his Farmers' Museum was the ablest periodical of its day. It contained the brilliant contributions of Koyal Tyler, and also of Joseph Dennie, who afterward became the editor of the Portfolio, which was the best thing of the kind on the entire continent. It is no small distinction to Walpole that the first American fiction should have been pubhshed there, and the Algerine Captive was followed by a volume of Den- nie's Essays. During the publication of the Farmers' Museum Walpole attracted the attention of the literary world, but hard times killed the Museum, and then Koyal Tyler devoted himself to law, and reached a high posi- tion in the judiciary of Yerinont. It may be added that Walpole not only produced the first American fiction, but that it was the birthplace of the first American author who appeared in English lit- erature after the revohition. I allude to Thomas Fes- senden, who was one of the Walpole wits, but afterward visited London, where he published, in 1804, a satire which went through two editions, and was reprinted in New York. It appeared under the pen name of Christo- pher Caustic, F. R. S., LL. D. and A. S. S., and was one of the best things of that day. Clergymen and their Titles. The hit which Christopher Caustic makes at titles shows that even in his time the ridiculous nature of this 188 Our Book. mania was apparent. Had Christopher Caustic, however, lived in the present age how much more intense would have been his sarcasm ? The mania indeed has increased to a degree which often awakens contempt, and if the clergy and others, who are so proudly displaying their titles, could see how this appears to others it certainly would do them no harm. Perhaps, Mr. D. D. and LL. D., 'it might at least induce you to omit the title occasionally. This leads me to say that no class is so tenacious on this point as the clergy. Horace Greeley, Charles O'Conor, Secretary of War Stanton and Washington Irving, each received LL. D., and yet who ever beheld it tacked to their names? Such men have too much self-conscious- ness to permit this display. Our clergy, however, gen- erally parade every additional title in the most showy manner — first D. D., then LL. D., then D. C. L., and all others that they may obtain. These titles they exact when their names are put in print, and the result is that the religious papers are studded with D. D. and LL. D. to a degree that is often disgusting. The editors, how- ever, know that an omission of title would give offense. A young clergyman, who was preaching at a rural resort during his outing, said to a friend of mine when they posted a notice of the meeting : " Make it doctor. It may attract more." This man could not forego his title even for one evening. Another instance of the same kind is as follows : The writer of this once addressed a young clergyman as plain " Mr.," when the person ad- dressed drew back with an appearance of offended dignity and said " doctor^ if you please, sir." I am not, however, in the habit of giving flattering titles to any one, and I can only regret that my clerical brethren show so little self- consciousness of their great work as to think they can really be honored in this manner. Clergymen and their Titles. 189 The clergy, however, are but human, and yet true humanity rises far above such jjetty vanity. See how much greater "Wilham Pitt'' sounds than any title belonging to the peerage. As prime minister he ruled Great Britain, but he never desired to be aught else than Mr. Pitt. How grand also does "Mr. Gladstone" ap- pear— retaining this simplicity among the titled ranks of the British aristocracy. In speaking of the mania of the clergy some excep- tions are to be noticed. The leai-ned commentator Barnes declined it, and so have other distinguished preachers, thus leaving an example worthy of imitation. One of the evil results of clerical titles is the discon- tent among those whose ambition has long been fixed on this attain uient, and in some instances the practice has been as Shakespeare says : " assume a virtue if you have it not." Men have boldly attached the D. D. to their names without waiting for the slow movements of colleges, and I have even seen it engraved on a door-plate by one who had assumed it iu this manner. This also explains the pressure on college trustees by solicitous applicants — or their friends — who, after all their wire-pulling, are often disappointed. The editor of a New York religious paper was once called on by a rural pastor who requested him, in mailing his paper, to address it to " Dr." instead of '' Mr.," and the editor naturally inquired what college had conferred the honor. " Oh, none," was the reply, "but it's a way my people are getting into of calling me." He really meant it was a way which he desired they should be led to adopt. The degree business has become so extensive that it is now classified. When a clergyman parades his D. D. the question is often asked, " where did he get it? " and then will come the estimate of its rank. Harvard stands first, 190 OcK Book. Yale next, and after tliese come the colleges of more recent date. " Yes," was the remark made concerning a preacher who flourished one of these titles, "true, he's a D. D., but he only got it from a western college." Hev. Henry K wrote thus to a catalogue maker : My degree (D. D.) was conferred by Harvard. In the catalogue you mention College. It proceeds from an institution that is less profuse in its degrees than the younger colleges. You may therefore make the alteration. What an example of gospel hmnility. The colored congregations have caught the same itch, and it was said by a man on his return from the south that lie had be€n shaved b}- a doctor of divinity, while another blackened his boots and a third waited on him at table. The colored people are determined their preachers shall be doctors, however humble may be their secular employment, thus emulating that display which they see so dearly coveted by tlieir white brethren. Perhaps this mania may yet inspire another " Christopher Caustic." Penalty of Success. This is jealousy and hate. Poe sneered at Longfellow, and Irving endured the spite of another American writer. Wordsworth was jealous of Byron, but a still more impressive instance is found in Pope, for the reason that he was the first writer that made literature profita- ble. This was sufficient to occasion the attack of the starving horde of Grub street, which employed every method of expressing hate — as he says in the Prologue to the Satires: The tale revived — the lie so oft o'erthrown, The imputed trash, the dullness not his own; The moral, blackened when the writings 'scape, The libelPd person and the pictured shape; Abuse on all he loved, or loved him spread, A friend in exile or a father dead. A sample of these libels is found in Gildon's statement Penalty of Success. 191 concerning the envied and liated poet : " His origin is not from Adam but the devil, and he wanted nothing bnt horns to be tlie exact resemblance of his infernal father." John Dennis, wrote as follows : What rare members are here! Would not one swear that this youngster had espoused some antiquated muse who has got the gout in her decrepid age, which makes him hobble so damnably. In another place he thus describes Pope : A young squat, short gentleman whose outward form, though it should be that of a downright monkey, would not differ so much from the human shape as his unthinking immaterial part does from human understanding. Smedley says : " He will do well to escape with his life, and adds a desire that he would hang himself or cut his throat," while a number of small wits issued a satire called the Popiad, which contained a full measure of insult. No wonder this incessant lire awoke the severest vengeance of which the galled poet was capable, and the result was the Dunciad which as has been mentioned was pui)hshed anonymously and in Dublin in order to distract public attention fi'om the author. As soon as the latter found himself free from what he calls "the threats of vengeance on his head," he took great delight in this satire, which he published in London in an enlarged edition. To this he thus refers in his Prologue to the Satires : Out with it Dunciad. Let the secret pass The secret to each fool that he's an ass. John Dennis, who was one of Pope's worst assailants, afterward became old, blind, and so poor as to be an object of charity, and Pope then assisted him, as he says in one of his poems : Dennis will confess Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress. Pope's generosity in forgiving Dennis and assisting him is one of the most beautiful traits in his character. 102 Our Book. In 1733, a benefit was given to Dennis at one of the theaters and the prologue, written by Pope is rich in sympathy. Having compared the unfortunate critic to Belisarius, he thus refers to his opposition to the foreign drama : Such, such emotions, should in Britons rise When pressed by want and weakness, Dennis lies, Dennis wlio long had warred with modern Huns Their quibbles routed and defied their puns. Stood up to dash each vain pretender's hope, Maul the French tyrant or pull down the pope. One cannot but notice in the closing line a pardonable pun, leaving a question which Pope he desired to pull down. LiTEKAEY Friendships. A painful lesson found in the history of Pope is the brevity and uncertainty of literary friendships. During his youth he was intimate with Wycherley, who submitted his verses to the young poet for correction, but this early intimacy resulted in a quarrel. Later on he was on friendly terms with Addison, and his Messiah first appeared in the Spectator. He also wrote the prologue for Addison's Cato, but this harmony was soon broken, Addison no doubt being in fault, and Pope then made his former friend the subject of one of the keenest satires in the language. Pope w^as at one time an admirer of J^ady Mary Wortley Montague, with whom he maintained a correspondence, and he afterward induced her to reside at Twickenham, but a quarrel occurred and he gave vent to his irritability in a lampoon which was unworth}^ of him. Pope's long intimacy with Bolingbroke also ended in a rupture, and it is said that the latter hired Mallett to tra- duce the poet even after the grave forbade a reply. The only one of Pope's literary friendships that escaped rup- ture was with Swift, and no doubt the reason is found in their wide separation. Swift lived in Dublin and Pope Dormant Literature. 193 iu Loudon, and this was a safe distance. Pope knew Swift's influence and dedicated the Dunciad to him, no doubt as a method of conciliation, and Swift readily saw that peace with such a man was the wisest policy. Hence tliese two greatest satirists of the age never crossed swords. As a feature in literary history Pope connects the comic dramatists of the restoration with Johnson and his early associates, who counted it a matter of note to have even caught a glimpse of the great satirist when carried in his sedan chair through the streets of London — as was said in classic days : " Virgillum vidi ipsi." Rogers says in his Table Talk: "When I first began to publish, I got acquainted with an elderly person named Lawless, who was in the book trade. He told me that he was once walking through Twickenham, accompanied by a little boy, and on the approach of a very diminutive, misshapen and shabbilj^-dressed person, the child drew back, half afraid. ' Don't be alarmed,' I said, ' it is only some poor old man.' 'A ])oor old man,' exclaimed one who overheard me, ' why that is Mr. Alexander Pope.' " Dormant Literature. It is surprising to notice the length of time a work may lay in manuscript. I have already referred to Lord Her- bert's Memoirs, which were printed one hundred and six- teen years after the death of the author. Pepys' Diary was published one hundred and twenty-two years after his death, and to this may be added one of Wycliffe's tracts, which first appeared in print in 1840, having lain in utter neglect four hundred and forty-four years. It is called the Last Age of the Church, and is a prediction of the speedy approach of the day of judgment, based on the pestilence which had so recently ravaged Europe. Like all other such prophets Wycliffe proved a failure. 194 OuK Book. Another instance is found in the Minutes of the Tryon County Committee, which lay in manuscript for more than a century, when they were published by that inde- fatigable antiquary and historian, J, R. Simms. In this connection I may also refer to the vast amount of books which utterlj^ fail of publication. The most striking instance of this kind is fonnd in Cotton Mather's Illustrations of the Scripture. It forms six volumes of closely written manuscript and has waited more than a century and a half for a publisher. Books of even great merit have sunk hopelessly out of sight through change of taste. Look for instance at Young's Kight Thoughts — the most impressive poem of the eighteenth century, but who hears of it now ? Women of Letters. I do not here refer to literary women, but to letter writ- ers, and in mentioning these instances I connect their names because they represent three nations — France, England and America. Yes, reader, Madame De Sevigne, Lady Mary Wortley Montague and Mrs. Harriet E. Fran- cis form a rare trio of letter writers, all inspired by domes- tic affection. Each wrote letters to her children which were not fully published until after death, and this point gives them marked unity. Mrs. Francis' " By Land and Sea " was intended to be social " chats " with loved ones at home, during her tour round the globe in company with her husband, Mr. John M. Francis, editor and founder of the Troy Times. They render the reader familiar with the most important scenjes in such a tour, and viewed in con- nection with their illustrations and exquisite finish, form the most admirable book of travels from woman's pen. Cheerful Authors. In order to produce good books, the writers should be Cheerful Authors. 195 in healthy, if not a buoyant, condition. Much that is pernicious in Bjron may be ascribed to his morbid frame. Poe's painful tales were no doubt born of that gloom which so often obscured his genius. Dickens, on the other hand, was cheerful, notwithstanding his domestic trouble.^. Irving was remarkably cheerful. Occasionally, however, he had long spells of disinclination to writing, and he never used his pen till a genial mood returned. The cheerfulness, both of Dickens and Irving, was no doubt chiefly due to their excellent bodily health, and also to their liuancial success. The same remark will apply to Robert Southey, who was one of the most voluminous writers of his day. He was of a cheerful turn, and bore the burdens of life with great patience. Our melancholy authors, such as Dr. Johnson and Cow- per, were chronic invalids, and much of Pope's bitterness may be ascribed to his infirmities. He spoke a volume of painful experience when he called his life "a long dis- ease," and the wonder which many feel is that so frail a frame could endure such laborious application. Johnson's mental disease led him to impress the follow- ing lesson on all who seek divine mercy: Pour forth thy fervors for a healthy mind, Obedient passions and a will resigned. Tom Hood, who died too soon, is almost the only in- stance of a humorous writer who was obliged to contend with incessant physical suffering. Speaking of Southey, who labored till he was an old man, we note the contrast between him and his brother-in-law Coleridge, a large part of whose writings suggest a dark undercurrent of misery — the utterance of a blighted life, and genius paralyzed by an intoxicating drug. Wordsworth gives us several very fine illustrations of cheerfulness amid age and poverty. One of these is his 196 OuK Book. friend Mathew and another is tlie old leech gatherer of the moor. The last occurs in his poem called Resolution and Independence, and reader, I have thought that this title is worthy of your adoption as a rule of life. There exists in many gifted youth before they pass what may be termed the vealy state, a tendency to diseased imagi- nation, which finds utterance in melancholy verse. Even Keats felt the danger of such an influence, and how pain- fully does lie refer to himself in the preface to Endy- mion : " The imagination of a boy is healthy and the ma- ture imagination of a man is healthy, but there is a space of life between in which the sonl is in a ferment, the character undecided and the way of life uncertain, and tbence proceeds mawkishness and all the thousand bitters which those must taste who go over the following pages." Reader, if you pursue literature, let mental health be maintained. It is a great mistake to imagine sickly sen- timentality to be a mark of genius. Stay-at- home Tourists. Samuel Purchas was a London clergyman who never left the shores of England. He had a great desire to see foreign parts, but being unable to do so, he traveled by the use of such authorities as were accessible. The study of foreign lands through other men's narratives, formed the amusement of his life, and led him to write his Pil- grimage. The last volume was published only three years before his death, which took place in 1628. Purchas' Pilgrimage has some points of peculiar interest, one of which is that it was while Coleridge was reading it that he had that strange series of visions called Kubla Khan. Purchas set a good example, and it has been followed by a vast number of stay-at-home tourists, who enjoy foreign scenes without the sufferings and dangers that accompany Scott and Kapoleon. 197 travel. His Pilgrimage is now one of the curiositiea of literature. ScoiT AND Napoleon. The fate of this pair of gifted men is recalled by the fact that the 15th August is their birthday, Scott being the younger by two years. Each possessed immense brain power with sufficient physical strength to sustain it. It is not easy to establish a table of proportions which will illustrate the varied endowment of this nature. Some persons are reckoned to have a ten-man power, while others are reckoned as high as one hundred. These statements are highly Suggestive, but they are of a general nature, and cannot be reduced to figures. But if we have, as a given point, perception, judgment, energy, courage and intel- lectual gifts generally sufficient to endow ten men, all con- centrated in one strong body and fixed on one great pur- pose, a proportionate degree of mastery must be obtained. Let the rate of concentration be increased and the con- quest will be greater, but when these powers give way the collapse will be in proportion. Thus was it with the pair referred to, both having been vastly elevated above their race in the scale which I have mentioned, and hence the points of resemblance, as well as those of contrast, are striking and instructive. His famous Utterances. Napoleon, though not utterly destitute of imagination, made no display of it. Those grandiloquent speeches which writers enjoying his patronage put into his moutli, are fine in point of sound, but reall}'- mean nothing. On the Alps it is " The eagle your guide," while at the pyra- mids it is " Soldiers, forty centuries are looking down upon you." These are pretty utterances, but are not true to nature, though they are true to P"'rench rhetoric. 198 OuK Book. Napoleon may have enconrai^ed this publication for effect, just as he is said to have had dispatchea written for the occasion, describing the tactics at certain victories. For instance, it is now affirmed that the description of the echelon movement which decided the day at Marengo was an after-thought neatly described by an accomplished writer. It may be remarked that successful military leaders are seldom imaginative, "Washington, Wellington, Grant and Sheridan being examples. Still an imaginative man may be a good soldier, as is shown by Korner and others of modern days, as well as by the troubadours of chivalry. Scott would have made a good soldier had he been put into mounted service, for his lame leg forbade any other. While visiting Paris after the battle of Watei'loo the czar of Russia, to whom he was presented, mistook him for a wounded veteran, and asked him where he received his hurt. The principal difference between these giants was that tlie one marshalled men in the field while the other mar- shalled them to the imagination. The one subjugated na- tions by the power of the sword, the other subjugated the world of literature by the power of the pen. Both were bold in their plans, even to temerity, and by assuming unparalleled risks came to ruin. Bonaparte reached su- preme power at an earlier time in life than Scott, but sooner reached his collapse, and in point of age died much earlier ; but their reigns were about the same, in duration, the extent being nearly twenty years. Napoleon was autocrat of France as soon as he returned from Egypt, and Scott was at the head of literature from the date of the Lady of the Lake until three years be- fore he died. Abbottsford was a throne occupied by con- quering genius, and even the house in Edinburgh was also worthv of that name. One of the most devout of Scott and Napoleon. 199 all admiring subjects — himself a genius — confesses standing by the hour near the latter watching for a glimpse of Sir Walter. This man was Hugh .Miller, who was then a poor stone cutter, and who thus bore his trib- ute to the great. Their schemes were not dissimiLir — family aggran- dizement being the main idea. JMapoleon exalted each of his brothers and also his brothers-in-law, while Scott ob- tained a commission in the army both for his son and his brother, together with a berth in the civil service for his other son, and if there had been a score of additional dependants they might have been promoted. In point of self-confidence there was great similarity. Napoleon never permitted defeat to form a part of his plans, and when the fatal invasion of Russia was projected he re- fused to listen to expostulation. Tlras also with Scott — failure never seemed possible. lie had won success like that of enchantment, and one of his last acts before in- solvency w^as to add another tract of land to his enor- mous estate. Failure came on both in the midst of most dazzling success. While death held its way around them, each seemed expectant to live forever. The soldier marched over the ruins of kingdoms, while the author summoned the dead to new life on his page, but each of them was planning schemes of the most evanescent character. How strange it seems that men of such penetration should only follow the general crowd in the old experience of human destiny. Both had the empty show of great success, and both fought well against their fate, but having begun wrong, their first error gathered strength with time until it led to hopeless ruin. Conscience. Each of these men, though thoroughly worldly, showed 200 Our Book. at times tlic power of conscience. After Napoleon had been banished to St. Helena, and had time for reflection, the murder of the Due D'Enghien, which is the greatest stain on his character, seemed to awaken distress, and he frequently sought to extenuate the crime. In like man- ner Scott's hours of misfortune were harrowed by the remembrance of his anger against his miserable brother Daniel to whom I sliall refer hereafter. Scott like Napoleon was insatiably ambitious and even before Abbottsford was occupied he planned a still greater elevation. Lockhart thus speaks of a memorable night when he accompanied the author to the tower — the build- ing- beinff then unfinished. Nothing could ba more lovely than the panorama; the Tweed winding and sparkling beneath our feet and the distant ruins of Melrose a])pearing in the delicious moonlight as if carved out of alabaster. The poet leaning over the battlement seemed to hang over the beautiful vision as if he had never seen it before. "If I live," he exclaimed, "I will build me a higher cower and a more spacious platform." In this uttei'ance one beholds the same ambition, which under another form of development, led the Corsican to Wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. Napoleon probably had little moral education. A Corsican home could have offered but few advantages, and at seventeen he was a cadet at a military school. But little was to be expected of one trained to a militaiy life at a time of such general violence. Scott on the other hand was educated in a land of piety, and the influences which surrounded his childhood were of a purifying and elevating character. Hence more is to be expected of him, nor is it expected in vain. He was morally superior, and that too in a very great degree. Domestic life is one of the great cultivators of the Johnson. 201 heart. This Scott possessed, but not Napoleon. The latter was childless and almost homeless, for what home is there in palaces and camps? It is remarkable that after Napoleon was banished to St. Helena he found in the society of the English family at the " Briars" a new experience — domestic life. A bouncing girl used to sit on his lap, pull his ears and greet him with her tiny kisses, and thus developed those feelings which are iden- tified with home life. I have called Napoleon " childless." True, he had a son, but he was then engrossed with war. Before the babe was a year old the invasion of Russia began, and during the ensuing troubles the queen fled to her father, and Napoleon never again saw mother or child. Contrast of Burial. The burial of Napoleon in Paris in 1840 was one of the grandest pageants which that city ever saw, and such was its imposing character that it was presented as a dramatic spectacle on the boards of the Bowery Theater. Amid the thunders of artillery and the gaze of thousands who were entranced by the majesty of the scene the grand array of veterans laid the dead emperor in Les Invalides. The funeral of Sir Walter Scott, on the con- trary, was simple in the extreme, although the attendance was great, the procession of carriages being a mile in length. The old servants of the family asked the privi- lege of bearing the remains, and it was granted them. They bore the coffin to the hearse, and from the hearse to the grave, and amid the mourning multitude it was laid by the side of his wife in Dryburgh Abbey. It will be some time before the 15th of August will give the world an equal pair. Samuel Johnson. This once popular author has not been much read since 26 202 Que Book. his death — which took place more than a century ago — and he is now chiefly known through Boswell, wlio is also falling out of notice. In fact, Johnson is now little bet- ter than a tradition of genius, learning and sorrow. His prose died soon after its author, and of his poetry all that is held in common parlance is a couplet on the Vanity of Human Wishes. Hence had it not been for Boswell, the lexicographer might have been utterly forgotten. Boswell was the Johnsonian chatterbox, and though a respectable lawyer, was in some points the weakest man ever immortalized in literature, but at the same time he was the best biographer the world ever saw. He was de- termined at the beginning of his acquaintance with John- son to allow nothing to break their friendship. This, in- deed, was his chief capital as a society man, and hence he submitted to Johnson's irritable and overbearing temper. The gratification of his vanity compensated for occasional humiliation, and he repaid his surly friend with such ad- ulation that it conquered rudeness — as Milton says: Smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled. Boswell was only twenty-three when he first met the great author. He went to London with a desire to see "Dictionary Johnson," and their friendship was begun with that sacrifice of nationality which renders the biog- rapher contemptible. He knew that Johnson disliked the Scotch, and hence, when the desired introduction was about to take place he said, " Don't tell him where I come from." The friend, however, roguishly added, "from Scotland." Boswell replied, " Mr. Johnson, I do come from Scotland, but I can't help it." How utterly un- worthy he thus proved himself of that noble nation 1 Johnson was then fifty-five. After the much-desired acquaintance had been formed, Boswell made the tour oi Johnson. 203 Europe and tben established himself in his profession at Edinburgh. He soon cherished the purpose of writing Johnson's life, and by adroit toadying became a special favorite. He visited London as often as possible, and made the most of his opportunity of seeing Johnson, tak- ing notes of all that was said and done in sucl» lounions- On close examination it is found that BoswelTs visits to London during the twenty-one years which elapsed prior to Johnson's death, made an aggregate of two hun- dred and seventy-six days, and yet the personal interest is kept up so vividly that it seems as though lie w&s there most of the time. This is done by interweaving anec- dotes obtained from others, and also by letters and de- lightful gossip, such as are found in no other volume. After ten years' acquaintance, lie announced his inten- tion of writing the biography, but eleven additional years elapsed before Johnson's death rendered the task ])racti- cable. Seven years more were occupied in getting the work before the public, and Boswell was then fifty-one. Only live years were added for the enjoyment of his suc- cess. Boswell considered his greatest achievement, next to the biography, to be the tour to the Hebrides. While Johnson was in such demand in London, Boswell was de- lighted to think he had captured him, and carried him through Scotland, where they beheld the rudest as well as most cultivated society'. This journey seems the more surprising when one considers Johnson's bitter hatred of the Scotch, in almost every point of view. Boswell's narrative of the tour is now obsolete, and yet it was once thought interesting, as it gave Johnson's sayings and do- ings, many of which were highly grotesque. While walk- ing along a crooked street in Edinburgh after nightfall, Boswell (who was in front) inquired : " Doctor, can you 204 Our Book. find your way?" "Keep on," was the reply, "I can smell yoa in the dark." Some Pictures. Bos well gives us the picture of a Imge, clumsy pedant, whose early days had l^een passed in poverty of a pain- ful character. Poverty in youth, poverty at the univer- sity and poverty in married life until he had reached fifty, when his pen yielded a respectable support. His parents kept a petty bookstore in Litchfield, but the profits were too small to raise them above meagre poverty. He says himself that he was a miserable babe, infected with scrofula, and he mentions that one of liis rehitives said he would not have picked up such a child from the street. Another aspect is the poverty-stricken student leaving the university, when we see him in his twenty-seventh year marrying the widow Porter, wlio was forty-eight. Notwithstanding this unusual discrepancy, they were deeply attached, and after her death he remained a wid- ower. Then we see this newly-married pair opening a boarding school, which soon failed, and after which they started for London to try their chances in a great city. From his twenty-ninth to liis forty-fifth year Johnson led the life of a bohemian, suffering extremes of want, such as are suggested by some of his poems, which are always deep-toned and melancholy. Of this time of misery no record is left, but enough is known to show that he keenly felt the truth of his own lines. Ptill is this mournful truth confest Slow rises worth by poverty represt, Under these circumstances his wife died, and it always seemed an additional grief that she could not have lived to shai'e even that moderate prosperity which he enjoyed after he becaine distinguished as " Dictionary Johnson." JoHNSoif. 205 Looking again at Boswell's picture we see Johnson in his widower establishment, wliicli included two women and a servant. One of the former was a poverty-stricken daughter of a family friend, and the other (Mrs. Wil- liams), in addition to poverty, suffered from blindness. Connected with this establishment was the poor physician, Levett, who had rooms and a living and was deeply be- loved and tenderly mourned by his patron. His social Life. A more agreeable feature is the social side of Johnson's life, including his literary friendships and the famous club of which he was the leader — where Burke, Gold smith and Reynolds were among his admirers. Bos well also opens us to the palatial abode of Thrale, where John- son is the lion of many a social scene, though Mrs. Thrale often chafes under his rude speech and clumsy manners. Here it is that Boswell seems in his clement, since it en- ables him to indulge in that gossip which is his delight. Then the picture changes. Thrale dies, and an alienation between his widow and the author is the natural result. How sad seems the utterance of the latter : " I went to Streatham, but there was no Thrale." Mortality of Friends. As Johnson advanced in life his best friends were re- moved by death, awakening many a touching lament. In addition to the loss of Thrale may be mentioned the death both of Garrick and Goldsmith, and also poor, blind Mrs. Williams. To these was added the loss of Levett, the physician of the poor, whose death was so deeply felt that it awoke a poetic tribute. Along with this record of mortality one is led to notice Johnson's prolonged and incurable fear of death, which at last shrouded him with gloom. This was partially due to his 206 OuK Book. iiatuial melancliuly and partially to the dark and errone- ous nature of liis religion. As he grew old his constitution failed and the dropsy- set in. His fear of death intensified the misery of his condition, and thinking his surgeon too reluctant in using the knife, he exclaimed : " You fear to give me pain, for which I care little. It is life that 1 want." Carrying out this idea he actually opened one of his bloated limbs, hoping to find relief, and when this was discovered, he said: "I would give one of these legs for a year or more of comfortable life." A few days before liis death, at the urgent request of a friend, he made his will, leaving an annuity to his faith- ful servant, Francis Barber, to whom he said : " Francis, remember you have a soul to save." He also gave his physician an injunction to " remember his need of a Sav- iour." On the 13tli of December, 1784, a number of his friends were present, and tliey all saw that dissolution was momently expected. A young lady called and asked the dying man's blessing, and he feebly replied, " God bless you ! " soon after which he expired, being then in his seventy-sixth year. His death made a deep sensation in London, and the interment was in Westminster Abbey. His WOKKS. No one now is expected to read Johnson, but every one should know something of him who held such distinction in the literary world a century ago. His Rambler is a collection of heavy essays. His tragedy of Irene, though its publication brought some profit, proved a failure when presented on the stage by Garrick, and is now foi'gotten. His Lives of the Poets is interesting only to those who wish to make literary research. His dictionary is super- seded. His poems, though powerful, are unattractive. BOSWKLL AND GiBBON. 207 Ilis Rasselas is full of wisdom, but is exceedingly dull, and even his criticisms on Shakespeare, which are liis best productions, are little known. His Latinized style was very injurious because it was imitated by those who could not equal its power, and it did much to impair the influ- ence which Addison had so admirably exerted. Notwithstanding all this, however, Johnson made a beneficial as well as an enduring mark on the literary world. He was the first man that rose from the lowest conditions of bohemian life to the front rank of society solely by learning and ability, and was indeed the first writer that made the British public feel that genius was higher than rank, an instance of which is found in his letters to Lord Chesterfield. His dictionary, the work of eight years, was the first that was worthy of a name, and it prepared the way for greater efforts. BOSWELL AND GiBBON. There is a noticeable parallel between these two authors, both of whom prosecuted through the best part of their lives a great task, which they were allowed to finish, and then died, after brief fruition. The two most important publications of the London press during the last part of the eighteenth century were Gibbon's Homo and Boswell's Johnson. The first was issued in 1788, and the latter three years afterward — each author being then fifty- one. Both died in London — Gibbon being fifty-seven and Boswell a year younger. Those wlio read Boswell's Johnson, must, in order to appreciate the work, enter fully into that man-worship with which it is imbued. The sole idea seems to be, " Johnson is great, and Boswell is his prophet." To properly read such a work, one must remember that there can be no ti-ifle so small that the name of Johnson does 208 Cue Booit. not make it important. Those who take this view of the subject find Boswell's Johnson one of the most delightful biographies in the world. Boswell's lotteky Ticket. One of Boswell's weaknesses was a love of lottery gam- ing. While preparing the biography for the press, he was much in need of money, and this led him to try the chances of a prize, but he was grievously disappointed. This was the more annoying, since a ticket bought in the same office the same day and for the same price, drew £5,000. Boswell wrote the following account to Malone, the Shakespearian critic, dated February 10, 1791 : I bought my ticket at Nicholson's, and paid £16 8s for it. That very evening I learned from an advertisement that a ticket sold at the same office for £16 8s had drawn £5, 000. The number was mentioned in the advertisement. I had sealed up my own num- ber without looking at it, for I liad resolved not to know what it was until after the drawing, in order to avoid any shock at a blank. This advertisement made me highly elated, but on opening the envelope I saw tiiat mine was not the lucky number. O, could I get but a few thousands on a credit for a few years, what a differ- ence would it make on my state of mind, I am sorry to add that your own ticket has also drawn a blank. Boswell had invested a sum equal to $120, while Ma- lone's ticket cost half as much. Neither of tliem was in a condition to lose, and yet their funds went to swell the profits of the dealers, and this has been the common fate of all who pursue gaming in any shape. Burns. Header, having thus briefly viewed the conflicts and the sorrows of educated genius, let us now by way of contrast ramble through the leading incidents in the life of the peasant bard. His birthday was January 25, 1759 — wben as lie says : " 't was then a blast of Janwar win, blew hansel on Rubin.*' This occurred in a clay-built cottage at Alloway. Passing on to his sixth year he was Burns. 209 sent with liis brother Gilbert to a neighboring school. He says " tlie earliest compositions in which I took pleasure were the Vision of Mirza, and the hymn by the same writer, How are Thy Servants Blest, O Lord. The first two books I ever read were the Life of Hannibal and the Life of Sir William Wallace." Ilis mind was at this time imbued with the witch-lore of the country to such a degree that as he says " he could not for many yeavs afterward move about at night with- out keeping a sharj) lookout in suspicions places." FOURTEENTH TEAR. Kobin, who has already made some rhymes, becomes ploughman on his father's farm and falls in love with a lass who assisted in reaping, in whose praise he writes his first song, beginning O Once I Loved a Bonny Lass. The farm proves unprofitable and the family is obliged to seek another place. Burns writes My Father was a Farmer and It was on Lammas Night. He now read some reputable authors, which gave him an idea of the world of literature. TWENTIETH YEAR. His brother Gilbert says this was the happiest year in the record of the family, which included the two brothers, their three sisters and their parents. Burns wrote John Barleycorn, My Nannie O and some other of his most sprightly songs. TWENTY-THIRD TEAR. Burns had established a social club which, no doubt, led him to his fatal habit of drinking. He left home, working for a flax dresser, and became so despondent that he wrote his father that he was willing to leave the world. The reason for this, no doubt, was in that first ruin- ous error of his life, the paternity of an illegitimate child. 27 210 Our Book. twenty-fifth year. Had began a commonplace book, and started the record of his thoughts, which were still more saddened by the death of his father, whom he portrays in the Cotter's Saturday Night. The family is evicted and most of its property seized. Hence they seek a cheaper home on a "cold uphmd farm." After the faihire of two successive crops the poet returned to iiis rhymes, and his soured frame is indicated by Holy Willie's Prayer and some other discreditable utterances. TWENTY-SIXTH YEAR. He still continued to help the family by farm labor, but found so much time for writing that this may be considered the most active jDeriod of his life. It brought the Cotter's Saturday Night, Halloween, Lines to a Mouse, Death and Dr. Hornbook and other of his best productions. TWENTY-SEVENTH YEAR. This was a very eventful year, since his poems appeared in a small volume issued in Kilmarnock by subscription. Burns wanted money to obtain passage to the "West Indies, and he devoted part of the proceeds to this pur- pose, but the intervention of a friend led to a change of purpose. This year Alary Campbell, his Highland Mary, died, and he wrote the Gloomy Night is Gathering Fast. At this time, however, he was cheered by the sale of his book and the encouragement to visit Edinburgh for the purpose of getting out another edition. He was received with great favor, and at this time Walter Scott saw him, an account of which is given in another place. The new edition was 3,000 copies, and its proceeds were £500, equal to $2,500, but money was then worth thrice its present value. One-third of this amount 4ie gave to his Burns. 211 brother to aid the family, and the remainder was devoted to leasing and fitting up a farm for himself, having already married Jean Armour, and thus restoring her reputation. TIIIRTIETn TEAR. Fails at farming and is appointed exciseman. No doubt the constant intercourse with whisky-dealers increased his already destructive habits. He attended the great drinking contest for the whistle, and his con- vivial habits led to snch reaction that he complained of " a horrid hypochondria pervading body and soul." Not- withstanding this bad influence, he wrote this year To Mary in Heaven. THIRTY-FIRST TEAR. Having given up his farm he hired part of a house in Dumfries and joined the volunteers. Tarn O'Shanter was written at this time and was the last of his long pieces. His popularity was then so great that more than one hundred of his lyrics were published in the collection called Scottish Melodies. THIRTY-FOURTH TEAK. A new edition of his poems is issued, including Scots Wha Hae, which added much to his fame, and the next year another edition is ordered, which enabled him to take a better house in the street which now bears his name. THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR. Wrote his best production, A Man's a Man for a' That, which is the noblest utterance of the Scottish muse. He then began to realize the full power of his evil habits, and wrote a friend that the " stiffening joints of old age were fast coming ovei* his frame." 1796 — THIRTY-SEVENTH TEAR. In January seized with rheumatic fever which left him 21^ OuK Book. pale, emaciated and so feeble as to require help to rise from his chair. In summer he was removed to a rural abode whence he issued his last song called Fairest Maid on Devon's Banks. In the middle of July he was brought back to Dumfries, where he died on the 21st, aged thirty- seven years and six months. Four days afterward he was buried in St. Michael's church-yard, and then Scotland began to realize its loss. Later Facts. Seven years after Burns' death Wordsworth visited his grave and commemorated the event in the verses begin- ning : 'Mid crowded obelisks and urns I sought the untimely grave of Burns. And he addresses the poet's sons a touching lesson, which closes thus : Let no mean hope your souls enslave; Be independent, generous, brave, Your father such example gave And such revere, But be admonished by his grave And think and fear. In 1815 the remains of the poet were removed from his obscure grave and placed in a beautiful mausoleum. ^Nineteen years afterward his widow was laid by his side. In 1844 a Burns festival was held in Ayr, not only in honor of the poet but also to welcome his two sons, who had been in foreign service. Tlie banquet was presided over by the Earl of Eglinton, and the speech of the oc- casion was by John Wilson, the Christopher North of Blackwood. In 1859, centenary celebrations were held in Britain and in America, and on one of tliese occasions Beecher delivered one of his finest efforts. Scott and Burns. Walter Scott always considered it a fortunate incident BuKNs. 213 that he had not only seen Burns but had received from him a favorable utterance. His description of this occur- rence is as follows ; I was a lad of fifteen when Burns came to Edinburgh, and I was highly desirous to know him. One day I was at Professor Ferguson's, wlio on that occasion entertained Burns and several other literary men, while we youngsters sat silent. The only re- markable thing I remember about Burns was the effect produced on him by a picture representing a dead soldier — his dog on one side and his widow and child on the other. Burns seemed much affected by the scene, and actually shed tears. Beneath the en- graving were some poetic lines, and Burns inquired the name of the author. I was the only person in the room that could answer the question, and Burns rewarded me with a look and a word, which I received and still recollect with very great pleasure. Such was the only interview between these distinguished characters, and how little could Burns have imagined that the youth whose intelligence he thns complimented would become the greatest author of his age. Scott thus de- cribes the peasant bard : His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish. There was a strong expression of sense and shrewd- ness in all his lineaments, but the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character. It was large and of a dark cast and glowed (I say literally gloioed) when he spoke with feeling. I never saw such an eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distinguished men of my time. This is an interesting picture, since it presents the chief author of his day, described by the greatest author that succeeded him, Scott never became personally acquainted wilh Burns, though he saw him occasionally in the streets of Edinburgh. Scott was always convinced of Burns' superiority to himself, and while speaking on this subject said to a friend, " There is no comparison between us, and I ought not to be mentioned on the same day with him." Scott ranked the two great emotional poets together in the following manner : " I have always reckoned Burns and Byron the most genuine poetical geniuses of my time, and of a half century before me." This estimate has been 214 OuB Book. fully confirmed by history. It may be said of Biirus and Byron tliat although separated by the extreme of social difference, they now occupy the same rank as masters of the heart. 'No other writers wield such power over the emotional nature. A point of peculiar similarity is found in the fact that both reached the same age — thirty -seven — and died the victims to their vices. There was also a close similarity in national origin, the one being full-blooded in his Cale- donian birth, while the other sprang from a union be- tween Scottish and English famihes. Eyron's mother was Catharine Gordon, a Highland heiress, and a part of the poet's youth was spent in the wildest part of Scotland, which led to such effusions as the following : I would I -were a careless child, Still dwelliug in my Highland cave; Or roaming through a dusky wild, Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave. The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride Accords not with the free-born soul, Which loves the mountain's craggy side, And seeks the rocks where billows roll. The following extract is still stronger in national char- acter : Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale? Surely the soul of the hero rejoices And rides on the wind in his own highland vale. Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy wind gathers, Winter presides in his fierce icy car; Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers: They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr. Again, when describing the battle of Waterloo, he thus gives a glowing tribute to Caledonia bravery : And wild and high the Cameron's gathering rose. The war note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes; How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills. These quotations, and others which might be offered, Bdrns. 215 show that Byron was at heart a ScotsmaD, and hence he and Burns have a tie in nationality as well as in genius. Another Interview. More than a third of a century after Scott first met Burns he entertained one of the sons of the latter at Ab- bottsford, and the occasion was one of special interest. Scott had then gone through his splendid career of author- ship and was broken in health and in fortune. He had retired from society and was living in seclusion, and this was the last time that he opened Abbottsford for social purposes. Lockhart, who was present, penned a few stanzas on the occasion, from which I make the following extract : What princely stranger comes, — what exiled lord, From the far East to Scotia's strand returns, To stir with joy the towers of Abbottsford, And wake the minstrel's soul? — The boy of Burns. The children sang the ballads of their sires, Serene among them sat the hoary knight; And if dead bards have ears for earthly lyres, The peasant's shade was near and drank delight. The "hoary knight" was Scott, while the "peasant" was Burns, but genius leveled all distinctions and they were one in the sad lessons of misfortune. A Contrast. A very striking contrast is found between Burns and his poetical predecessor, Allan Ramsay, who had for many years been the admiration of Scotland. Ramsay's best production, the Gentle Shepherd, though a very clever poem, is tainted with that snobbish worship of rank which then was so general througiiout the British realm, and if it be less prevalent at the present time, the change to a great degree is due to Burns himself. The Gentle Shepherd represents the loves of a shepherd and a rustic 216 Our Book. maiden, but the progress of their attachment is broken by a startling disclosure. The shepherd is found to be the son of a baronet, who comes for the purpose of call- ing him from his humble employment and placing him in that station to which his rank is entitled. Then we have the sorrows of the disappointed maid and their sad fare- wells, whicli, however, are happily terminated by another startling discovery. The maid herself is an incognito member of a blooded family, and when this is known it removes the b-ir to their union. Burns' Independence. Bui-ns took a far loftier position, and instead of bowing to the tyranny of caste he boldly proclaimed " a man's a man for a' that.'' This tyranny lias been modified to a very great extent owing to Burns' influence, and the Gentle Shepherd no longer expresses a national sentiment. In conclusion, it may be said that those who really love Burns feel that intense devotion which overloooks his in- temperance and other defects, and who clasp him the closer to their hearts whenever his faults may be men- tioned. Like Shakespeare, he shows that the true poet is owned of all mankind, because he masters the heart. State of Literature. The death of Burns marked the lowest reach of Brit- ish literature. All the great lights had gone out ; John- son, Gibbon and Hume were dead, and Burke died the next year. The world of literature seemed almost extinct, and yet what a new glory was about to arise ? Wordsworth, Scott, Moore, Byron, Coleridge, Shelley and Keats were already in existence, and some of the number had already felt the first movings of genius — but how- ever great their subsequent development they have not eclipsed the peasant bard. Junius. 217 As I begin this old but interesting theme I am led to notice the similarity between the phenomena of the literary and astronomical worlds. Byron speaks of Churchill as " one that blazed the comet of a season." This was a very suitable expression. Churchill was for a short time the object of great admiration. His biting wit and relentless sarcasm when clothed with ringing rhyme could not but command a high position both in politics and literature. But his course was as evanescent as it was brilliant. Who hears of Churchill now? An apos- tate clergyman he burst from the obscurity of his pro- fession, and after a brief splendor disappeared in an early grave. It is said by astronomers that there are stars which suddenly increase in brilliance to a degree which suggests the idea that they may be burning worlds, and which afterward disappear forever. Such an instance once occurred in the world of literature. A resplendent genius, masked as to name, suddenly broke forth, commanding the highest degree of admiration, and after exciting the wrath of the government and the curiosity of two conti- nents it totally disappeared. More than a century has since elapsed, and has evoked all possible scrutiny, but in vain. The same shadow from which lie emerged covers his retreat, and all that can be said is that he was Junius, and to this is added the defiant motto which was placed on the title page of the first published volume '''■ stat nominis umbra.'''' The facts surrounding the history of these letters, are as follows: Prior to the American revolution the Eng- lish government had become exceedingly corrupt. It was indeed the time of political and national demoraliza- tion. The result was a series of blunders which not only cost the nation the American colonies, but led to general 28 218 OuK Book. disgrace. The enero^ies of the cjovernment were to a large degree expended in prosecuting a noted reformer, M'ho baffled every attempt to ci'usli him. This man was John Wilkes, who for three years filled the British mind to a greater degree than has ever been known before or since. Wilkes was a dissolute but highly gifted man, and conducted a fiery journal called the North Briton. He was prosecuted by the government, but though con- victed his punishment only added to his fame and power. At this time of weakness and corruption, a prominent London editor received from an unknown source a con- tribution of unusual character. Its style was elegant, and indicated greater knowledge of public affairs than could be possessed by any other than a statesman, while that knowledge was devoted to tlie vindication of public rights. The editor referred to was Woodfall of the Pub- lic Advertiser; but who was the contributor? The article was printed and attracted general attention. It was fol- lowed by other contributions, tlie signatures being varied, from which it appeared that the author desired to identify his most polished and powerful efforts with a pen name, which was withheld from others of less importance. The 28th April, 1767, was the date of the first letter, and among other signatures were Lucius, Junius, Bru- tus, no doubt in honor of that celebrated Roman patriot in whom these names were united. For nearly two years these various signatni-es were employed, with the exception of one. This was only assumed when the author felt the importance of an unusual effort, and appeared on the 21st January, 1769, when the Public Advertiser contained the first letter by Junius. In this he attacks the administration in a manner which may be judged by the following extract, with which it concludes : In one view behold a nation overwhelmed with debt; her Juki us. 219 revenues wasted; her trade declining; the colonies alienated and the administration of justice made odious. We are governed by counsels from whicli a reasonable man can expect no remedy but poison; no relief but death. If by the interposition of Providence it were possible for us to escape, posterity will not believe tlie iiistory of tlie present times. They will not believe that their ancestors could have survived while a Duke of Grafton was prime minister, a Granby commander in chief, and a Mansfield chief criminal judge of the Kingdom. Ill another article, he thus expresses his views: Our worthy governors divide their time between private pleasures and ministerial intrigues. Away they go; one retires to his country house; another is engaged at a horse race; a third lias an appointment with a — and as to their country, they leave her like a cast-off mistress to perish under the diseases they have given her." Loi'd Hillsborough he addresses thus : That you are a polite person is true. Few men understand the little morals better or observe the great ones less than your lord- ship. You can bow and smile in an honest man's face while you are picking his pocket. These are virtues in a court in which your education has not been neglected. Of the cabinet he tlms speaks : While the fate of Great Britain is at stake, these worthy coun- sellors dispute without decency, advise without sincerity, resolve without decision, and leave the measure to be executed by the man that voted against it. The state is in disorder and the phy- sicians consult only to disagree; opposite medicines are prescribed and the last fixed upon is changed by the hand that gives it. The attention paid to these philippics and the celebrity they immediately acquired stimulated the author to still grcatereffort, and when the name of Junius was adopted he attained a finished power that never has been sur- passed. It was evident to Woodfall that his correspondent was not only a man of highly cultivated intellect, but that he had studied carefully the laws and the constitution of his country as well as its political detail. Woodfall knew too well the value of such a correspondent to embarrass him by the indulgence of curiosity, and in addition to this he was controlled by a sense of honor. Had he placed a de- 220 Our Book. tec'tive on the track he would, no doubt, have discovered the author, but that discovery would have cost him the distinction of being the publisher of Junius. Curiosity however, was tempered to patience by the promise which Junius extended in one of his private notes, in which he says : "Act honorably by me and at the proper time you i-hall know me." This promise was never fulfilled. Junius ceased to appear on the 21st of January, 1772, and the editor in vain gave hints in his paper that his cor- respondent should resume his pen. Junius' reply to these hints will be found in the latter part of this article. Leading Characteristics. The leading characteristics of Junius and the circum- stances of his position may be inferred from his own statements. He was not only, as has been said, a man of culture and acquainted with the constitution and laws of his country, but it may bo presumed that he was also possessed of wealth ; that he moved in the immediate eii'cle of the court and was acquainted with most of its secrets. The first of these is evident from his refusing an}' participation in the profits arising from his letters, especially when Woodfall issued them in book form. His reply is : '' What you say about profits is very hand- some. * * * Be assured I am above all pecuniary views. * * * Make the most of it, therefore." To this may be added his assurance to Woodfall, at an earlier day, that in the event of the latter's being subjected to pecuniary damage by reason of these letters, the author would not allow him to suffer. " Some way or other," says the latter, " you shall be reimbursed." In another place he adds : " You may be satisfied that my rank and fortune place me above a common bribe." It is evident that the author had attained an age that JuNILS. 221 w'oiild allow hiin to speak from experience as well as from information, and also that during the years 1767 to 1771 and part of 1772, he resided almost constantly in London and its vicinity, and that most of his time was de^^^oted to the highest order of politics. It is also evident from these letters that he was excitable and impetuous and was subject to strong prejudices, but that he possessed a rare in- dependency of spirit, was attached to the British consti- tution, and was both fearless and indefatigable in main- taining his opinions. It is also evident that he was an advocate for morals, was an avowed member of the Church of England, and though well acquainted with legal prac- tice was not a lawyer by profession. Scope of Information. How any man, not a member of government and hence interested in concealing its plans, could penetrate and ex- pose such secrets is one of the most surprising features of this mystery. His accuracy was extraordinary. He tells Woodfall, at one time, that " war is inevitable, and that a squadron of four ships of the line is ordered with all possible expedition to the East Indies." At another time he refers to a prosecution with which the printer was threatened, and adds : " You have nothing to fear from the Duke of Bedford in case he should bring you before the House of Lords. I am sure I can threaten him pri- vately with such a storm as would make him tremble even in his grave." In his published letter to the same Duke he. tells him things which could scarcely be known outside the latter' family. He wrote "Woodfall " That Swinney is a dangerous fool ; he had the impudence to go to Lord George Sackville (whom he had never before spoken to) and to ask him whether or no he was the author of Junius." This statement is true and was made shortly after it 222 Our Book. had happened, but how should Junius, unless he were Lord Sackville, know ? For this reason some have supposed that the mysterious writer was Sackville himself. Another instance is found at the time when the prime minister's friends are boasting of his honesty in refusing to sell a monopoly in Jamaica, especially as the would-be buyer was prosecuted for an attempt at corruption. Junius ex- posed this hypocrisy by showing that this very minister had recently been concerned in the sale of just such a monopoly as now was refused. He even knew the anony- mous writer in the Public Advertiser, and says to Wood- fall, "Your Yeredicus is Mr. Whitworth ; yourLycurgus is Mr. Kent, a young man of good parts." Consciousness of Danger. With all his boldness Junius was not unconscious of his danger. Indeed, he occasionally refers to the perils inseparable from such a position. When Sir William Draper bids him " throw off his mask," he replies, ''It is not necessary that I should expose myself to the resent- ment of the worst and most powerful men in this country. Though you would fight, there are others who would assassinate.'''' He also writes Woodfall, " 1 must be more cautious than ever. I am sure I should not survive a discovery three days." Later on he thus addresses the same man : " Tell me candidly whether you know or suspect who I am?" Again, in another private note, he says : " Upon no ac- count are you to write me until I give you notice." Again : " Change to the Somerset Coffee-house and let no mortal know the alteration. I am persuaded that you are too honest a man to contribute to my destruction." Method of Communication. In a literary alliance like that existing between the JuNros. 223 publisliei- and his unknown contributor, there must be some peculiar method of communication, and this was devised by the latter. It is evident that he shunned the post-office. His letters, both to the Public Advertiser and to private parties, such as John Wilkes, were all sent tiirect by private hand. His arrangements with Wood- fall were these : A common name and one not likely to attract attention was chosen by Junius, and a place of de- posit was indicated. Tlie parcels for Woodfall were con- veyed directly to him, but whenever a letter was sent to the unknown, it was announced in answers to correspond- ents by such signals as these : " C — a letter at usual place," sometimes " a letter," and then simply, " Vindex shall be considered." " Don't always use the same signal," said the writer, " any absurd Latin verse will answer." Among those used were such expressions as " Quid vetat ? " or " Infandum Regina jubes renovare do- lorem." During November, 1771, eight of these signals ap- peared in the paper, and each indicated that a letter had been 'left for Junius at the spot designated. The names which these letters bore were either " Mr. William Mid- dleton " or "Mr. John Fretly," and the most frequent depot was the bar of the Somerset Coffee-house, although Munday Coffee-house was sometimes chosen. The waiters received appropriate fees, and hence no better plan for a secret correspondence could be devised. By what agency Junius obtained his parcels from the coffee-house has never been ascertained. In his correspondence with John Wilkes, the letters were sent by a public messenger, with directions that replies should be left at Woodfall' s, whence they were forwarded to the coffee-house in an enclosure addressed to either "Middleton" or "Fretly," as the choice might be. 224 OuE Book. It is evident that a variety of schemes were employed by his enemies in hope of detecting the writer, but his extreme vigilance and the honorable forbearance of his publisher enabled him to batfle them. " Your letter," says he in one of his private notes, " was twice refused last night, and the waiter as often attempted to see the person who sent for it." Among other expedients, let- ters were frequently addressed to him at the printing of- fice, with a hope of tracking them up to their destination. Hence he thus says to Woodfall : " I return you the letters sent yesterday. It is probably a trap for me. If he writes again, open his letter, and if it contain any thing worth knowing, send it — otherwise, not. Instead of ' C. at the usual place,' say '■only a letter ' wlien you address me again." The most persistent attempt to discover him was made by David Garrick, who was a favorite at the court. For three weeks Junius, in every letter to Woodfall, cautioned him against this famous player — "To deter him from meddling, tell him," says he, "that I am aware of his practices, and will be revenged if he do not desist. An appeal to the public from Junius would destroy him." He says again : " Beware of David Garrick. He was sent to pump you, and went directly to Richmond to tell the King I should write no more." Having mentioned that the letters to the publisher were sent by private hand, it may be added that chair-men (as they were called) were generally employed. Once, however, a tall gentle- man, dressed in a light coat and sword, was seen to throw a letter from Junius into Woodfall' s door, and a young man who followed saw him enter a hackney coach and drive off — but whether this man was Junius himself or his messenger is, of course, uncertain. His Style. The style of Junius is too latinized to l)e popular at Junius. 225 the present day, but such was then the fashion. This defect, however, is offset by their brilliant antithesis and their overwhelming power. That they cost a great deal of application is admitted by the author. His inferior pro- ductions were signed variously, and Junius was only applied to those of highest finish. Thus he writes to Woodfall : " As for Junius I must wait for fresh mat- ter, for this is a character that must be kept up with credit." The letter against Lord Mansfield is accom- panied by a note saying : " I'his has been greatly labored^'' In his epistle to Mr. Home he refers to himself by asking : " What public questions have I declined \ What villain have I spared? Is there no labor in the composition of these letters V The most elaborate are those to the Kin": and also to Lord Mansfield. The most sarcastic is to the Duke of Grafton, and the most valuable is that to the editor of the Public Advertiser on the means of uniting the people in one great party for a common cause. He thus expresses to Wilkes the difficulties of procuring information : " In pursuing such enquiries I lie under a singular disadvantage. Not venturing to consult those who are qualified to inform me, I am forced to collect every thing from books or common conversation. The pains that I took with that article were greater than I can express to you, yet after I had blinded myself M^ith por- ing over debates and parliamentary history, I was at last obliged to hazard a bold assertion which I am now con- vinced is true." Mysterious Friendship. Junius was an admirer of John Wilkes and did him the honor to address him a letter which led to a corre- spondence lasting more than a year, and included seven- teen letters on both sides. Junius offered Wilkes, advice, 29 226 OuK Book. which the latter usually followed, and in several instances with great benefit. The mysterious correspondent speaks thus in reply to Wilkes' profession of friendship : I will accept as much friendship as you can impart to a man •whom you will assuredly never know. Beside every personal con- sideration, if I were known, I could no longer be of any service to the public. At present there is something oracular in the de- livery of my opinions. I speak from a recess which no curiosity can penetrate, and darkness, we are told, is one source of the sublime. The mystery of JUNIUS increases his importance. Having given Wilkes political advice of the highest value, he adds the following on personal bearing : " It is your interest to keep up dignity and gravity. I would not make myself cheap by walking the streets so much as you do.'' He also advised Wilkes to dress well and pay better attention to personal appearance, but perhaps this admonition was based on the fact that Wilkes was the ugliest man that ever became prominent in public life. Reason for Discontinuing. The last letter of Junius appeared January 21, 1772. On the 19th of January, 1773, nearly a year afterward, Woodfall received a brief note from the mysterious au- thor, who writes thus : I have seen the signals thrown out for your old correspondent. Be assured I have good reasons for not complying witli them. In the present state of things if I were to write again I should be as silly as any of your wise aldermen. I meant the cause and the public. Botli are given up. I feel for tlie honor of this country when I see that there are not ten men in it who will unite and stand together on any one question. But it is all alike, vile and con- temptible. You have never flinched, that I know of, and I shall always be glad to hear of youi prosjierity. This was the last trace of the great unknown, and it is supposed that the retirement of Junius was occasioned, in part, at least, by disgust at the corrupt state of public affairs, which he had vainly attempted to reform. It is remarkable that his last published letter (to Lord Camden) Junius. 227 should be totally different from its predecessors. Instead of containing satire and invective, it is of a flattering character. Indeed it is the only encomium on any indi- vidual which received the signature of Junius. Having begun in bitterness he closed his career with words of peace and approbation to the person addressed. He had some time previously expressed to Wood fall the burden and danger of keeping up the Junius correspond- ence. " I doubt," says he, at one time, " whether I shall write XLnder this signature. I am weary of attacking a set of brutes." The labor involved in the self-assumed task must have been very great, and he wrote to Wood- fall : " I want rest most severely and am going to find it in the country for a few days." It is very evident that Woodfall supposed Junius to be a man of high rank, and he also infei*red, from an expression in one of his private letters, that the unknown writer expected to become a member of the government, if its policy should change. A FEW EXTKACTS. I shall give a few additional extracts from Junius in order that those of my readers who have no time to read the original may form an idea of his style. Here is some- thing on the press : It remains for me to speak on the liberty of the press. The dar- ing spirit by which these letters are supposed to be distinguisiied requires that something should be said in their defence. The lib- erty of the press is our only resource. It may be a security to the king as well as to his people. The constant censure and admoni- tion of the press would have corrected the conduct of Charles the First, would have prevented a civil war and saved him from an ignominious death. To the Duke of Grafton (prime minister) : If nature had given you an understanding qualified to keep pace with the wishes and principles of your heart, she would have made you perhaps the most formidable minister that was ever em- ployed to ruin a free people. We owe it to the bounty of Provi- dence that the completest depravity of tlic heart is sometimes 228 OuK Book. united with a confusion of miud which counteracts the most fav- orite principles and makes tlie same man treacherous without art, and a hypocrite without deceiving. It is not, indeed, tlie least of the thousand contradictions which attend you, that a man marked by the grossest violations of ceremony and decorum should be the first servant in a court where prayers are morality and kneeling is religion. As you became minister by accident, were adopted without choice, trusted witjiout confidence and continued without favor, you will, when occasion presses, be discharged without regret. Yet for the benefit of the succeeding age I could wish that your retreat might be deferred until your morals shall be ripened to that maturity of corruption at which the worst examples cease to be contagious. To tlie Duke of Bedford : Can grey hairs make folly venerable ? Can age itself forget that you are now in the last act of life? For shame, my lord; let it not be recorded of you tliat the latest moments of your life were dedicated to the same unworthy pursuits in which youth and manhood were exhausted. Consider that though you cannot dis- grace your former life, you are violating the character of age, and exposing the imbecility after you have lost the vigor of the pas- sions. To Chief Justice Mansfield : In public affairs, my lord, cunning, let it be ever so well wrouglit, will not conduct a man honorably through life. Like bad money, it may be current for a time, but will soon be cried down. I feel for human nature when I see a man so gifted as you are, descend to such vile practice. Yet do not suffer your vanity to console you too soon. Believe me, my lord, you are not ad- mired in the same degree in which you are detested. To the Duke of Grafton again : Your cheek turns pale, for a guilty conscience tells you you are undone. Come forward, thou virtuous minister and tell the world what was the price of the privilege Mr. Hine has bought, and to what purpose the money has been applied. Do you dare to complain of an attack on your honor while you are selling the favors of the Crown to raise a fund for corrupting the morals of the people ? And do you think it possible tliat such enormities should escape impeachment? Unhappy man! Wiiat party will receive the common deserter of all parties ? At the most active period in life you must quit the busy scene and conceal yourself from the world, if you would hope to save the wretched remains of a ruined reputation. Junius expresses his relentless purpose as a puhlic writer in the same letter : Junius. 229 • I should scorn to keep terms with a man "wlio preserves no measures with tlie public. Neither abject submission nor the sacred shield of cowardice should protect him. I would pursue him tluough life and try the last exertion of my abilities to pre- serve the perishable infamy of his name and make it immortal. Question of Authenticity. Who was Junius? To answer this question, not less than one liundred volumes have been written. Immedi- ately upon the publication of the letters, suspicion lighted on several individuals whose claims have since been laid aside. But quite strangely he who is now commonly desi^uated as their author was not then thought of. Sir William Draper, who attempted a controversy with Junius and was sorely worsted, divided his suspicions between Burke and Lord George Sackville, and when the former denied the charge, he fastened upon the latter. The' fact that Junius, in a private note to Woodfall, asserts that Swinney actually called on Sackville and taxed him with beino; Junius, has led some to believe that the charo;e was correct. At any rate it is a mystery how any other man could have learned this incident. Junius, however, knew it a few hours after its occurrence. But if Sackville were the author, it is strange that Junius should have accused him in one of his letters of cowardice — the basest charge that could be urged against a gentleman. Byron in his Vision of Judgment, says: Now Burke, now Tooke, he jjrew to people's fancies, And certes often like Sir Piiilip Francis. The person with whom the above reference concludes was at the time of the Junius letters a clerk in the War otRce in London. This institution (at present called the Horse Guards) was under the control of Lord Bai rington, who little dreamed that one of his own clerks might be attacking both himself and the government. This position would afford the writer a minute acquaintance with the 230 Our Book. condition of the army, which is one of the strongest characteristics of the letters of Junius. However, instead of following my own train of reasoning, I accept that of the historian Macaulay, who writes thus on the question before us : "Was he (Sir Pliilip Francis) the author of Junius? Our firm belief is that he was. The external evidence is we think such as would support a verdict in a civil, nay in a criminal proceeding." Macaulay proceeds to state the reasons for his conviction, which are as follows : The author of Junius must have been acquainted with the technicalities of the department of State, and must also have been intimate with the business of the War office. It is evident that he attended the debates of the House of Lords during 1770 and took notes — that he was strongly attached to Lord Holland. Philip Francis did . pass several j'ears in the office of the Secretary of State, and was subsequently chief clerk in the War office. He repeatedly mentioned having heard in 1770 the speeches of Lord Chatham, and he was introduced into public life by Lord Holland. To this it may be added that the handwriting of Junius resembles the disguised hand of Philip Francis. The investigation has been recently revived, and a fresh array of argument has been adduced in favor of the ]iosition taken by Macaulay. It may be remembered by some of our readers, that while the Waverley novels were first interesting the public, the question of their authen- ticity was frequently discussed. The secret was kept with remarkable success for twelve years, but the author- ship was soon fastened on Sir Walter Scott by a writer of unusual acumen, who produced a train of circumstan- tial evidence which even Scott could not resist, and therefore replied to by a piece of hadmage. He was Astronomical Fancies. ^1 determined to maintain his secret, even at the expense of telling a few white lies. As he says in a letter to a friend : I shall not own Waverley, chiefly because it would prevent the pleasure of writing again. David Hume (nephew of the historian) says the author must be of Jacobite family, a cavalryman and a Scottish lawyer, and desires me to guess in whom tliese are united. I shall not plead guilty however, and as such seems to be the fashion of the day, I hope charitable people will believe my ajfi- davit in contradiction to all other evidence. By a similar train of reasoning the letters of Junius are now traced to Sir Philip Francis. The latter died in 1818, and had for some time enjoyed the reputation of this mysterious authorship. It is said that some years previously he had an interview with that King, whom he attacked so bitterly at an earlier day. Many years had passed and both had become old men, and if the King felt the keenness of the philippic launched against him in his youth, he might forgive the author, because it was the work of an Englishman. Astronomical Fancies. The death of Professor Proctor recalls some of his pe- culiar astronomical theories, among which is the river in Mars, whose width is at least twenty miles, together with other discoveries equally surprising. Another astrono- mer has reached the conclusion that Jupiter is of no firmer consistence than water — to which a wag replies that if so, then the inhabitants must be web-footed. How neatly such vagaries as these are hit off by Wordsworth in one of his poems (Peter Bell), where he takes the reader sail- ing through the stars : The Crab, the Scorpion and the Bull, We pry among them all — have shot High o'er the red-haired race of Mars, Covered from top to toe witli scars — Such company I like not. 232 Our Booit. The towns in Saturn are decayed And melanclioly spectres throng them; The Pleiades that appear to kiss Each otlier in tlie vast abyss, With joy I sail among them. Swift Mercury resounds with mirth, Great Jove if full of stately bowers; But these and all that they contain, What are they to that tiny grain, That little earth of ours? According to the above, Wordsworth seems to think that Mars owes its color to its red-headed population, which he calls combative, while as in mythology Saturn is the oldest of the gods, the planet that bears his name naturally shows signs of decay. Mercury on the other hand is " mercurial," and society there is full of fun and frolic, while Jupiter, being named after a very dignified god, is a place where good form is observed. Reader, this discrimination is certainly as sensible as many other the- ories, some of which, indeed, remind one of the revela- tions which startled the world a half century ago and which are now only remembered as Locke's " moon hoax.'* Irving. The revolution had terminated, but the British army still held New York, and their barracks occupied what is now the city liall park, while most of the churches were turned to military use. New York indeed was desolate, and at least one-quarter of the city lay in ruins, occasioned by the fire of 1776. At such a time — the date being April 3, 17S3 — a babe was born into the family of a Scottish merchant, who already had what now would be considered a sufficient burden. Four sons and three daughters already claimed his protection when the eighth and last born gladdened the mother's arms. William Irving — the father — was from the Orkneys, and had Irving. 233 cruised on the ocean before settlin<^ in New York. His wife was a beauty whom lie had won while in an English port, and lier character was as beautiful as her person. They had readied this city just in time to meet the colonial troubles, aiid liaving weathered tlie storms of the war, gave the name of the patriot liero to their new-born babe. Under such circumstances Washington Irving made his appearance in the world. Early Days. The first New York directory, issued in 17S6, contains "William Irwing, merchant, 75 William street." The place mentioned was a small, two story house, and the front room was occupied as a store. William Irving was a thrifty dealer, and supported his family in a reputable manner. Every Sunday they attended the Brick church, and that group of children which followed their parents to the family pew awoke admiration. William, John, Ebenezer, Peter and Washington were the names of the sons, the daughters being Ann, Catharine and Sarah, and the former was the special guardian of the youngest and most beautiful, as well as the most gifted. But we can only take a brief glimpse of youth. The family grew up to usefulness. William and Ebenezer became merchants, John studied law, Peter chose medicine, while Washington seemed at first to promise little but amiability. He was not of a business turn, but his beautiful person and charm- ing manners rendered him a universal favorite. The easy life of such a boyhood had an enduring effect upon the man. It was not, however, a life of idleness, but one of roviuff throuo^h those scenes which were then so full of intei-est. New York was a small city, but it held chief distinction. Broadway only extended to St. Paul's, and Wall street was the center both of fashion and political no 234 Our Book. influence ; but there was the East river with its Hell gate, and its traditions of Kidd and his buried treasures, and ill fact the little city was surrounded by an atmosphere of romance which threw its charm upon the youth and prepared him for authorship. A voyage across the ocean was then so rare that it gave one marked distinction. Hardly a score of Americans had made an European tour, but the youth was in deli- cate health, and his brother William, who was doing a good business, determined to send him abroad. Passage was taken on a ship bound for Bordeaux, whence the young tourist went to Nice, to Naples, to Sicily and to Rome. The Eternal City contained three Americans, one of whom was Allston, who almost persuaded Irving to become an artist. This tour was one of deep interest, and Irving saw tbe effect of Napoleon's war, being as he traveled through France taken for an English prisoner. He saw much for so limited an opportunity, and while in London witnessed the histrionic performances of Kemble, Ikving. 235 Mrs. Siddons and Cooke. After nearly two years of wandering lie returned home with a head full of beauti- ful thoughts, but with no settled purpose. Nothing better offered, and so, like many others who have nothing else to do, he studied law. This means that he entered Josiah Ogden Hoffman's office and turned over the leaves of law books while his heart was some- where else. Nevertheless, he was admitted to the bar, the examination being conducted under ths plea " be to my faults a little blind." Irving could answer a few simple questions. " Pie knows a little law, Wilkins," remarked Hoffman to his associate examiner. " Make it stronger, Joe," was the reply; "say little." So they let him in, and the tin sign was soon visible in Wall street, " Washington Irving, Attorney-at-Law." LiTERAKY Efforts. America at that time had no literature. A few books came from England, and of course controlled taste. Pope was read, and the Spectator was popular among the cul- tured few. Fielding's novels were also known, and so were the writings of Goldsmith. Some of the best poetry America had thus far produced was by a colored girl brought from Africa and sold in Boston as a slave, and it may be added that the verses of Phillis Wheatley contain a surprising degree of merit. New York had neither poet, reviewer, editor, novelist, nor even tale- writer. Its newspapers rarely contained a well written paragraph, and the thinking part of the public was so occupied by politics that there had hardly been any op- portunity for general literature. The time, however, had come for a new birth, and the literary infant was called Salmagundi. Its paternity was three-fold. One of these was William Irving, who, 236 Our Book. though a business man, cultivated literature, and had he pursued it instead of trade would have vron high rank. James K. Paulding was another. lie had re- cently come from Dutchess county, and William Irving had married his sister. The third was Washington Irving, who was just twenty-one. Salmagundi was a series of humorous hits at the town, and being the first thing of the kind made a sensation, but at present such an issue would hardly attract notice. It is now only kept from oblivion by the fame of one of its authors. After an existence of little more than a year, during which twenty numbers had been issued, Salmagundi was discontinued, owing to a disagreement with the publisher. One now reads its pages not only with a melancholy sense of the change in society and its locality, but also with a sense of the value of progress and improvement. The allusion to " our lawmakers waiting at Albany for tlie opening of the river," and also to " the sail boat that served as ferry to New Jersey" are sufficient for this. It may be added that Sophie Sparkle of Salmagundi was Mary Fairlie, who afterward married Cooper, the tragedian. She was the most brilliant girl in the city, and no doubt would have won Irving's affections had they not been previously fixed on the delicate form and tender beauty of the daughter of his legal patron, Josiah Ogden Hoffman. Love Matters. Life is nothing without love, and love becomes both elevated and deepened by disappointment. It is tliis which gives such power to Pope's epistle of Eloise to Abelard^ and adds such a charm to Byron's emotional pieces, while it reaches its highest utterances in Burns' Highland Mary. Matilda Hoffman was in no wise a striking character. Lideed, she was too young for development, and would Ikving. 237 probably have held an average place among the amiable, sympathetic girls just released from the hard lessons of daily tuition and admitted into society. Irving loved her, however, and to such a man the emotion could only be of the rnost intense power. His affection was returned, and there was that union of hope and happiness which recalls the words of the poet : O there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream. Now comes the crushing hand of death rending the lovers, but giving Irving the deep tone which was needed by such a mercurial character. Matilda died— only sev- enteen. How early to fill so large a space in the history of genius ! Her death made Irving what he became. Had Matilda lived her husband would have been merely a struggling lawyer (half litterateur) and the father of a sickly family. She died to become an object of conse- cration, and to give him an experience like that uttered by Byron : Time tempers love but ne'er removes; More hallowed wlien its hope is fled. Oh! what are thousand living loves To that which cannot quit the dead? More Authorship. Irving' s life had thus far been sunny and joyous to an unusual degree, but now he was called upon to meet re- peated sorrows. The death of Matilda was preceded hy that of his father, and then died his beloved sister, Ann, wlio had nurtured him with such fondness that the tie was one of unusual strength. These shadows fell upon liira at a lime when he was writing a humorous book, and tlie contrast was therefore one of peculiar power. The Knickerbocker History of New York made others smile, while its author was laden with sadness. The book had merits, and also glaring defects. Its humor is overdone, 238 OuK Book. and its style shows that the author had not read Fielding in vain, but the creation of Diedrich Knickerbocker, the quaint old historian, is fullj equal to that of Sir Roger De Coverly, and the allusions to Dutch manners in the olden times were pleasing and felicitous. The book was successful from the very rarity of author- ship. It was the first original volume printed in this city outside of politics, and the Dutch gentry were so indig- nant at the liberties a Scotchman's son had taken that the sale was beyond expectations. This work, however, which brought Irving $3,000, is so ephemeral that only his sub- sequent fame keeps it alive. Had its author written no more it would now be in oblivion, except one utterance. I refer to the most vital contribution the author ever made to the common parlance of the age when he spoke of the "almighty dollar." Ikving and Bukk. Irving, while in Europe, heard of the Hamilton and Burr duel, but shocking as it was, this tragedy did not de- stroy the friendship which united the families. The Ir- vings, Hke many of the young men of that day, had been magnetized by the fascinating politician, and Peter Irving, having renounced medicine, became the editor of the Morning Chronicle, which advocated Burr's claims to the presidency. To this paper, Washington Irving, when only nineteen, contributed a series of articles on the drama, and as the Park theatre was then recently opened, they attracted some notice. These Jonathan Oldstyle papers were so inferior that the author was much annoyed by their republication after he had reached fame. To return to Burr, it may be said that when in prison in Richmond he sent for Irving, hoping that his influence might be of assistance. Burr needed all possible power Ikving. 239 of friendship. Irving obeyed the request, and found the friend of better days the solitary inmate of a cell. He remained through the trial, and ever afterward spoke of Burr in terms of kindness, though he felt a proper dis- gust for his depraved morals. The war of 1812. The success of the Knickerbocker history did not im- mediately stimulate its author to greater efforts, and dur- ing a whole year he wrote nothing more than a brief sketch of Campbell to grace an edition of The Pleasures of Hope. The brothers were so deeply interested in his welfare that they proposed to give him a share in their importing house as a mere benefaction, for they had no idea of his ever becoming a business man. The plan was to send him abroad, but before this was done it was im- portant that the movements of Congress should be learned, and hence the young author was sent to Washington. He wrote to Brevoort that " the journey was terrible. I was three days going to Baltimore, and slept one night in a log-liouse. I have attended Mrs. Madison's drawing- room. She is a fine, buxom, portly dame, and has a smile and pleasant woi'd for every one." The ensuing war prevented Irving from going abroad, and he remained in New York, doing such literary work as fell to his hands. He became editor of the Analectic Magazine, to which he contributed some biographical sketches of our victorious naval commanders. This kind of work, however, did not suit him, and was discontinued. The governor of the State then appointed him military secretary, and the young author held the rank and title of colonel, and did good service in this specialty. A mili- tary order is still extant bearing the signature of " Wash- ington Irving, aid-de-canip." 240 OuK Book. Peace soon gladdened all hearts, and brought a renewal of the importing scheme. Foreign goods were in great demand, and Peter Irving, who had been abroad during the war, repaired to Liverpool and awaited his brother- Peter had been physician and editor, and now intended to try his liand at trade, for which he was as little adapted. lie took an office, however, erected his sign, " P. Irving & Co.," the " Co." being the author and his New York brother More foreign Life. In May, 1815, Washington Irving, then in his thirty- second year, sailed for Liverpool in order to take his place in tlie new firm. He had a literary distinction not limited to America, for Scott had read the Knickerbocker history, and expressed his gratification, but he was not worth a dollar, and hence it was time to try for pecuniary success. After a brief tour through some interesting lo- calities, we now find the author laboring at the desk like an ordinary bookkeeper, and he writes a friend : " I am as dull, commonplace a fellow as ever figured on 'change." He soon perceived that Peter's purchases were too heavy for the capital of the New York firm. The mar- ket glutted, sales were dull, and the New York partners were unable to remit. After seven months of this expe- rience, the author says, in one of his letters : " I would not again endure the anxious days and sleepless nights which I have suffered since I have taken hold of business for the wealth of Croesus." Dark Period. We now reach the darkest period in Irving's life. Fail- ure and ruin threatened the concern, but his anxiety was not 60 much for himself as for his brothers. This is shown by the following extract from one of his letters : " My heart is torn by anxiety for my relatives. My own Ikvino. 24 1 individual interests are nothing. The merest pittance would content me if I could sec my connection safe." Dark, however, as were his own prospects, he could sym- pathize with others. He met Campbell, who, like most poets, was very poor, and who had a scheme for lecturing in America. Ir\dng encouraged the idea, but the un- fortunate poet had not nerve enough to make the attempt. Irving, in these troubles, again resorted to literature. lie went to London and tried to induce the leading pub- lishers to send their best M^orks to America, hoping that such an agency would afford him a commission, but in this he was disappointed. He also hoped to republish his Knickerbocker History, but this scheme was long delayed. Irving had now beezi two years in England, and was get- ting poorer every day. He determined to break away from trade, and made an excursion to Scotland, where he met his first encouragement. Blackwood invited him to write for his magazine, and Scott, who gave him a warm welcome, wished him to edit a new periodical. They viewed the young author as the son of " a brother Scot," and hoped that he would become a resident of the land of his fathers, but though Irving was delighted with Scott's hospitality, he declined these proposals, having still a hope of success in his negotiations with London publishers. Bankruptcy. The house of P. Irving & Go. having sunk in the uni- versal storm, we now find the author, at the age of thirty- four, a bankrupt. He wrote Brevoort : " We are now to pass through the bankruptcy act. It is a humiliating al- ternative, but my mind is made up to anything that will extricate me from this loathsome entanglement." He adds : " I trust that sometliing will turn up to give me subsistence, and however scanty may be my lot I can be 31 242 Odk Book. content — but I feel harrassed in behalf of my brothers. It is a dismal thing to look ronnd and see the wreck of such a familj'." Irving appeared before the commission- ers in bankruptcy, stood an examination and was dis- charged. Then came the first token of success in an en- gagement to forward British works to a Philadelphia house. It lasted a year, and gave him $1,000. What a grand lift to one who seemed sinking! At this time of darkness he entered the literary market with some sketches which had amused his shadowed hours, and which he submitted to John Murray, who was the most liberal and at the same time tlic most aristocratic publisher of the age. His plans are thus unfolded in a letter to a friend : " I have been for some time nerving my mind up for literary work. Should I succeed (beside the copyright), I trust it will not be difficult to obtain some official situation of a moderate, unpretending kind, in which I may make my bread. Should I not succeed, I am content to throw up the pen and take to any com- monplace employment. I shall not return to America until I have sent some writings which shall make me wel- come to the smiles of my friends, instead of skulking back, an object of pity." It may be added that the above-mentioned "writings " were sent to one of Irving's brothers, who had them pub lished as fast as received, and they were entitled the Sketch Book, by Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. Their popu- larity in New York was decisive, and the sale was much beyond expectations. This led Irving to offer the work to Murray, as above mentioned, and when it was declined, Irving, remembering Scott's kind notice of Knickerbocker, sent him the printed pages, and requested his influence with Constable. Scott's reply was encouraging, but in the meantime Miller had arranged to issue the book. Irvinq. 243 which appeared in London eight months after its first appearance in New York. Miller was at tliat time in financial difficulty, and would only publish on condition that the author should meet all the bills, including adver- tising. On these terms 1,000 copies were issued, and soon afterward Miller failed. Success at Last. Irving had reached thirty-seven, and up to this time he might have been termed a failure. In both law and merchandise he had proved unsuccessful, and this was added to a series of bereavements. He had lost his sweetheart, his parents and his best-loved sister. He was poor, and his brothers were also poor. Misfortune was crushing the family, and yet at that time he had just reached the turn of the tide which thenceforth set in and was soon to show a full wave of success. Scott was in London when Miller failed ; he induced Murray to issue the work, and the author received the handsome fee of £250 for the copyright. The Sketch Book had a rapid sale. An American author was then a curiosity, and the British were delighted to see their country so elegantly portrayed by a foreigner. They had heard the oft-repeated inquiry, " Who reads an American book ? " Here, however, was an American book they could not but read. Irving became a welcome guest in society, where his beauty and elegant manners awoke general admiration, while as a litterateur he became one of Murray's favorites and was sure of the highest price that genius could command. A report soon got in circulation that the Sketch Book was written by Walter Scott, and this alone is proof of its popularity. Unltjcky Peter. Irving was utterly devoted to his brothers, but Peter 244 OuK Book. was the special object of his affection. As soon as the Sketch Book placed its author in funds he and Peter started for the continent. A scheme had been started for steam navigation ou the Seine, and the two brothers became interested in it. The author thought it would be a fine thing for his unfortunate brother, and this was a sufficient inducement. lie was able to raise $5,000, and had achieved a reputation which would bring more. Hence he invested the above-mentioned sura in the steamboat scheme, and Peter was installed manager. The man who had failed as physician, editor and merchant, now added one more failure to the list. The scheme proved a bubble, and the entire capital was sunk. Irving briefly alludes to it in a letter with the closing remark : "If all I have advanced is lost, my only regret is on Peter's account." In contrast with this ill-luck, however, was the news that Crayon was overselling every other book of the season, and Murray sends £200 additional merely from a sense of justice. Life in Paris. The next scene is Paris, where Irving met Tom Moore, wlio had left England on account of financial difliculty. Moore was living in a cottage in the suburbs, and one night his wife gave a little reception. Piano music and dancing were among the amusements, and a chalk line was drawn around a hole in the floor to warn of danger. Another hole was watched by one of the guests, and every time the floor cracked the humor of the scene rose to a higher degree. It was an occasion so full of real pleasure that Irving always loved to recall it. Irving also met at this time John Howard Payne, and both being Americans a close friendship was the consequence. They took rooms together, and engaged in adapting Prench dramas to the London stage. Payne liad gone through Ikvinq. 245 severe poverty, and Irving could fully sympathize with him. It was at this time that Payne wrote the opera of Clari, which contains his famous Home, Sweet Home. Irving was indebted to Payne for an introduction to Talma, the famous French tragedian. While in Paris Moore allowed Irving to read Lord Byron's autobio- graphical memoirs, and he was the only man thus favored, except the publisher, as the latter was induced to suppress the work out of regard to the family. Returning to London. Irving soon returned to London and wrote Bracebridge Hall, which, indeed, had been begun in Paris, and also aided Payne in bringing out one of his plays. Murray paid Irving £1,000 for the new book, which also had a large sale in America. The author immediately sent £200 to Peter, who was still in Paris — it being always his rule to share his good luck with the family. Irving was now a courted guest in the highest circles, and for a time be- came a society man, but he felt his homeless condition deeply, as may be seen by the verses w^ritten by him at that time in a lady's album, one of which is as follows: For ever thus the man that roams, On heedless hearts his feehng spends; Strange tenant of a thousand homes And friendless with ten thousand friends. Visits Germany. Irving's life now became a "tale of a traveler," and we next find him rambling through Germany and drink- ing in the romantic and supernatural legends of that land of mysticism. Frankfort, Mayence, Heidelberg and Darmstadt were visited, and at the latter he began the Tales of a Traveler, of which his life was indeed an illus- tration. Thence to Munich and Vienna, after which came six months in Dresden, which formed indeed one of 246 Our Book. tlie brightest scenes in Irving's life. He found a delight- ful circle of English visitors, and as his fame preceded him, he had an enthusiastic welcome. He became a fa- vorite with the royal family, and aided in getting up pri- vate theatricals, in which he bore a part and performed in a very clever manner. Among others whom he met at this time were the Fos- ters (mother and two daughters), a family of British gentry with whom he became very intimate. Emily Foster afterward claimed that Irving offered her his hand, which was declined for prudential reasons. This, how- ever, is hardly probable. The lost Matilda was enshrined in his heart ; her prayer book was his companion during all his travels, and a still greater treasure — her miniature — was always with him, and to these memorials was added a lock of her hair, all of which were kept sacred from other eyes until revealed by death. Six months at Dresden was a delightful dream which passed away, and then came renewed literary effort. Murray sent him a spurring letter wanting another book, and offered £ 1 ,200 without seeing the contents. Irving was then finishing Tales of a Traveler, and when he brought the manuscript to the publisher, the price was raised to £1,500. London and parts Again. Irving, at forty, was one of the lions of London so- ciety. He met Rogers, Crabbe, Proctor and others of the literary notables, while the artists I^ewton and Leslie were rivals for his portrait. Newton's drawing of the author is inferior, while Leslie's portrait is both elegant in finish and correct as a likeness. It is one of the gems of the Lenox collection, and its reduced size is its only defect. From London again to Paris to see Peter and afford all possible encouragement, and then in order to Irving. 247 provide for the future the author takes stock in a copper mine. A *' friend," as usual, is ready to assist him in making the investment. Friends are plenty under such circumstances, reminding one of the bubbles of the present day. So the money goes, bringing only experience, and the author must once more to literature. Life of Columbus. Alexander Everett was then our minister at Madrid, and as a life of Columbus had just been issued by a Span- ish historian (Navarette), he wrote to Irving that a trans- lation would be remunerative. Irving replies : " I doubt whether I shall get as much as you suppose, but there is something in the job that pleases me, and this will be compensation." Before the lapse of a month Irving was in Madiid, and the task was begun. A mere translation, however, was found less desirable than an original work, and the latter plan was adopted. Irving, who was then forty-three, did the hardest labor of his entire life. Two years of close application finished the work, and Murray paid £3,000, while the American edition gave a profit of $3,000, thus making an aggregate of $18,000. Irving then visited Grenada, the seat of the ancient Moorish monarchy, and passed several months in those researches which afterward gave the Conquest of Grenada, and the still more charming Alhambra, or Moorish Sketch Book. Back to London, A tour embracing Seville, Cordova, Malaga, Cadiz, Gibraltar and other places of interest followed, and the scenes thus visited are given in many delightful letters which can be read even now with pleasure. Seville was for one season a place of residence, when suddenly comes the appointment of secretary of the legation at London, thus breaking up dreamy romance and ancient memories 248 Our Book. in the soft and fascinating atmosphere of Spain. Here is a picture of Jife in the Alhambra (in a letter to Peter) : " I cannot tell you how delicious these cool halls and courts are in this sultry season. My room is so com- pletely in the centre of the old castle that I hear no sound but the hum of the bees, the notes of birds and the mur- muring of fountains," Irving's three years in Spain, in- deed, was one of the most agreeable episodes in his Euro- pean career. His arrival in London opened diplomatic life — a new and interesting experience. Irving was now the most honored of all the litterateurs of the metropolis, and Ox- ford made him an LL.D. The Colonel Irving of the war of 1812 is thus the Dr. Irving of a British university. Irving, however, was well aware of the ridiculous charac- ter of all such titles, and hence dropped it at once. He was presented at court, and became acquainted with many of the political magnates of the day, but he now began to sigh for home and was glad to be relieved of his office. One of his most interesting events at this time was a visit to Newstead Abbey, the former seat of Lord Byron, and also a farewell interview with Scott, who was merely a wreck, body and mind, and who went to the grave in a few months. New York once More. Seventeen years had elapsed since Irving left New York for the purpose of becoming a Liverpool merchant. He returned the most popular author of his day. We need hardly say that his welcome was of the most en- thusiastic character. A grand dinner at the City Hotel was one of tlie features, and the leading toast (given by Chancellor Kent) was "Our illustrious guest — thrice welcome to his native land." The author replied in an unassuming but earnest manner, and closed thus : Irving. 249 I come from countries lowering with doubt and danger, where the rich man trembles, and the poor man frowns, and where all repine at the present, and dread the future. I come from these to a country where all is life and animation, and where every one speaks of the past with triumph, and of the future with confident anticipation. Is not this a land in which one may be happy to fix his destiny? I am asked how long I mean to remain here? They know but little of my heart who can ask this question. I answer, as long as I live. The hall resounded with applause, and Irving, as soon as he could again be heard, added as a finale, " Our city, may God continue to prosper it." Next Movements. Irving now determined on a tour through the West, extending to the prairies, to gain an experience of frontier life. He had seen the most finished society, and he wanted now to see a contrast. Making this tour, he vis- ited Johnstown, where the grave of his sister Ann was an object of hallowed interest, and where some of her chil- dren were still living. Irving, then in his fiftieth year, was a model of manly beauty. I was at that time one of the small boys of the place, but I remember vividly the easy and elegant form as it passed through the street, and the countenance so expressive of the kind and genial na- ture. He walked down alone to the grave, and recalled the sister that once dandled him in her arms, and whose lullaby so often had laid him to sleep. Then he turned away, and it was his last visit to that sacred spot. His Tour through the Prairies was the result of this ex- pedition, and, as usual, it had a remunerative sale. Then Astor was ambitious of a place in Kterature as well as in finance, and he wanted Irving to write Astoria. He justly felt proud of his grand enterprise to the mouth of the Columbia, and wished it suitably chronicled. This work brought its author $7,500, which he needed to carry out a long-cherished purpose. 33 250 Sdnnysice. A little home on the banks of the Ilndson had long been a leading point in the author's ambition. lie wanted a place where he could gather around him that circle which had always been so dear to him, and to this he refers in a letter to a friend : " You have been told no doubt of my purchase of ten acres on the river bank. It is a beautiful spot, capable of being made a paradise. There is a small stone Dutch cottage on it, built about a century ago. My idea is to make a little nookery, quaint but unpretending. In fact it is more with a view of furnishing my brother a retreat for himself and his girls, where they can ruralize during the summer." The brother referred to was Ebenezer, who had been unfortunate in business, and who passed the last twenty years of his life in that very cottage, which indeed became the home of his family. The first plan was enlarged, and the building became all that the author expected. He received many distinguished guests there, including Louis Napoleon and Thackeray, and Sunnyside indeed soon attracted the admirers of genius both of American and foreign birth. Mission to Madrid. The politicians had made every effort to turn Irving to account. He had declined nomination for Congress, and also for the mayoralty of his native city. JSText came a message from Van Buren, offering him a place in his cabinet as secretary of the navy, which was also declined, but when Tyler appointed him to the Spanish mission he could no longer refuse the demands of his country. His business affairs were committed to the hands of a faithful nephew, and the cottage was in charge of Ebenezer dur- ing this period of absence. Going by the way of England the author saw some of his former friends, among whom Irving. 251 was Moore, whom he met at the dinner given in behalf of the literary fund, where Prince Albert presided. Moore was much shattered, while Irving was in full vigor. He also attended Queen Victoria's fancy ball, but was obliged to decline an invitation to a public dinner in Glasgow. Of his official services I have no time to speak, and therefore omit all allusion except to say they proved highly satisfactory to the government which he repre- sented. His anxiety to return is shown by the following extract from his doniestic correspondence: "I long to be once more at my dear Sunnyside while I have yet strength and spirits to enjoy the simple pleasures of the country, and to rally a happy family once more around me. I grudge every year of absence. To-morrow is my birthday, and I shall then be sixty-two. The evening of life is fast drawing over me, but I hope to get back among my friends while there is a little sunshine left." In a few weeks after writing the above he was restored to the bosom of friends and kindred on the banks of the Hudson. More literary "Work. It is certainly remarkable that two American authors of high rank should select the same subject. These men were Irving and Prescott, the theme being the conquest of Mexico. Irving had just made a beginning when he learned that Prescott was similarly engaged, and with his customary generosity he at once discontinued, and informed Prescott of his purpose. A prompt and grate- ful acknowledgment was soon received from the favored author, but he little knew the sad and even bitter regret which accompanied this surrender. Irving, however, had long cherished a desire to write the life of Washington. This subject, indeed, had been proposed by Constable soon after the appearance of the 252 OuK Book. Sketch Book, since at that time but little was known of Washington outside of America. This fact recalls a mot which Irving occasionally related witli a full sense of its humorous aspect. He was passing through an exhibition of pictures in London when his attention was arrested by a portrait of the " father of his country," which attracted much attention. While all were thus gazing the inquiry was heard from a full-grown girl : " Mamma, who was Washington '< " " La, child," was the reply, " why, he wrote the Sketch Book." To produce a history which should be authority on so grand a theme was now Irving's great purpose, and formed the crowning work of his life. Putnam's Proposal. For several years after Irving's return from Europe his works had been issued by a Philadelphia house, but as the latter lacked enterprise there was a good chance for rivalry. At that time (1848) Putnam opened negotiation and secured the exclusive privilege. He produced Irving's works in so attractive a form that a fresh demand appeared, and its extent surprised both author and pub- lisher. A new generation had come into existence since Irving's first publications, and this gave what might be called "the verdict of posterity" to the works of the veteran author. Putnam's success led him to still greater efforts, and the rapid sales yielded Irving a degree of wealth of which he had little expectation. The misfortune which marked Irving's early life found a compensation in the prosperity which now awaited him. The sale of his works gave him a handsome income, and instead of living in solitude and penury as he once imag- ined, he was able to afford an establishment which cost $6,000 a year. What a contrast between his condition and that of Scott ! The one began in disappointment, but Irving. 253 ended in wealth ; the other began with success, but ended a bankrupt. Among other points of Irving's good fortune was the selection of his name by Astor as one of his executors. The business was done by his associates, but Irving drew $10,000 as his fees. The popularity of his name was everywhere apparent. There were Irving banks, Irving insurance companies, Irving stores, Irving magazines, Irving fire companies, Irving hotels and even Irving oys- ter houses. He had, however, seen too much adversity to be inflated with such honors, and in point of real humility few such instances are ever found. His charac- ter was simple, and while he avoided public notice, he was accessible to the humblest and had a deep fellow feeling for his race. The life of Washington kept him busy, and the favor with which each volume was received encouraged him to labor amid the infirmity occasioned by age and illness. He was social among his neighbors and was a regular attendant of the Tarrytown Episcopal church, of which, indeed, he was for many years a regular communicant. Among his greatest pleasures were the family gatherings at the " cottage." His great desire of being useful to his brothers had been fulfilled, and his life thus was rounded by a completeness which is rarely met in social history. Personal Appearance. The children of William Irving were all of fine appear- ance, but the author was the most attractive. His height was five feet seven, and he was finely proportioned. His countenance is so well known from portraits that no description need be added except to say that the artist rarely did him full justice. I remember him as he appeared in New Yoi-k after he had passed fifty, for my 254 OuK Book. employer was his favorite nephew. I was then struck by the absence of all assumption. He seemed (in common parlance) "an every day sort of a man," and his conversa- tion was marked by a flow of humor that a child could appreciate. A stranger would hardly believe that this could be the diplomat and author, who had met more of the great than any other American, and who had been on friendly terms with royalty. I also occasionally saw him walking the streets in an apparent reverie. His erect form moved quietly along, his glance was downward, and his countenance bore a pensive look. He was no doubt thinking of old times, when he and Brevoort and Pauld- ing were among the lively youth of New York, and when Matilda Hoffman was the star of his affections. Ah, what changes had come over the spirit of his dream since that day of buoyant youth! Death and Bueial. During his latter days Irving suffered many painful symptoms which indicated disease of the heart. He enjoyed the ministrations of his faithful nieces and the best medical talent of New York, but all was in vain. He kept busy at his great work, however, but only sur- vived its completion a few months. His life had reached seventy-seven, and had attained such a completeness that all that was now required was an easy dismission. Suf- fering, indeed, had become the sole condition of exist- ence. He was unable to sleep, and this often fihed his nights with unutterable distress. His last day on earth, however, was one of peculiar beauty. The autumn was closing with that sad and solemn grandeur which some- times marks the decline of the year. All of the family were rapt in admiration of a glorious sunset, and the au- thor himself exclaimed at the beauteous scene, little Irving. 255 dreaming that it would be the last he would ever behold. lie retired at half-past ten o'clock, expressing a dread of the night, and added in a sad tone, " When will this end ? " His niece, who stood near, saw him as he uttered these words, sink to the floor, and the next moment he was dead. It was in every aspect of the case a relief which none could deny to such a sniferer. Thus passed away on the 29th of November, 1859, the author whom the world delighted to honor. The funeral was of imposing character. The services were held in the church at Tarrytown, and the attend- ance was estimated by thousands, many of whom moved in solemn procession to the old Sleepy Hollow cemetery, where the author was buried by the side of his parents, and in the bosom of the kindred whom he loved so well. Agreeable to general expectation the entire estate (ex- cept one copyright) was bequeathed to Ebenezer, the sole surviving brother, and to his daughters. The testator wished the cottage to continue a gathering place for the family ; hence he desired that it should not be sold, but that the last survivor of the nieces should bequeath it to some ffood man of the name of Irvin":. The entire estate was not less than $100,000. Ebenezer survived the au- thor five years, and since then the nieces have been dim- inished by death to two, w^ho reside in New York in the winter, but make Sunnyside their summer home. The place remains unchanged. The pen which the author last used lies on the table, as though awaiting his touch, and his hat hangs in the hall where he left it. Sunnyside has become one of the shrines of genius, and pilgrims from distant nations resort thither to honor the memory of Washington Irving. Ikving's Sisters. Irving had three sisters, who were in all points women 256 Our Book. of wortli and usefulness. One of the number (Sarali) married Henry Yan Wart, who then was a fine-looking scion of an old Dutch family. He became a partner with William and Ebenezer Irving in the importation of hard- ware, and went to Birmingham as purchasing agent. Both he and his wife died there, and the latter is the only member of the Irving family buried in a foreign land. Another sister (Catharine) married Daniel Paris, a highly respectable lawyer, who at one time was prominent in State politics, and held a seat in the Senate. He was a resident of Troy for several years, and both he and his wife were buried there. Anne was the oldest of this trio, and became to a very great degree the nurse and guardian of her youngest brother, who for this reason was tenderly attached to her. Next to his sweetheart he loved Anne with all the depth of that affection which marked his character. Anne Irving married Richard Dodge, a native of New York, who, with his young bride, settled in Johnstown, which was then the " far West." In point of time it was nearly as distant as San Francisco. Anne was the first of the Irving family that passed away from this transitory world, and her death was the first serious l^low the author received. He was at that time making a journey to the northern part of the State, and he wrote to a friend as follows, under date of June 2, 1808: While I was traveling in high spirits, with thoughts of home to inspire me, I had the shock of hearing of my sister's death, and never was a blow struck so near my lieart before. One more lieait lies cold and still that ever beat toward me with the warmest af- fection, for she was the tenderest and best of sisters, and a woman of whom abrotiier might be proud. To-morrow I start for Johns- town. Would to heaven I had gone there a month ago. When Irving returned from Europe in 1832 he visited his kindred in Johnstown, and the writer of this, who was then a child, saw him ^valkiiigdown to Anne's grave. litviNG. 257 The author went alone, for lie wished no one to interfere with the sad and tender memories thus recalled. The grave is near the entrance, and is marked by a stone bear- ing the following inscription : Sacred to the memory of Anne, wife of Richard Dodge, and daughter of William Irving of New York, who died on the 20th May, 1808, in her thirty-eighth year. She lived in the exercise of the Christian virtues, and died in the full hope of a glorious resurrection. This was the author's last visit to a spot consecrated by holy affection. Ikving as a Dramatist. We seldom view Irving as a dramatist, and yet this was at one time a marked feature in his literary labors. lie and John Howard Payne were intimate friends while liv- ing in Paris in 1817, and the latter led Irving to attempts of this character. Payne went to London for the purpose of introducing some of his own dramas, and while there Irving sent him a play in three acts entitled Charles II, or the Merry Monarch. This was a mere adaptation of Le Jeunesse de Henry V, a French play by Duval, which appeared thirty years previously. Payne wrote to Irving that he thought it one of the best pieces of the kind he ever read, and adds that he sold it to Covent Garden for 200 guineas (equal to $1,100). The play was immediately produced, and was a marked success. One of its peculiar characters was an old pea captain, who was continually trying to sing the only song he ever knew. This was a very clever hit in Irving, whose rhymes ran thus : In the time of the Rump, As old Admiral Trump, With his broom swept the chops of the channel And his crew of Big Breeches, Those Dutch sons of . 33 258 Our Book. Mary (putting her hand on his mouth) said : " Oh, uncle, uncle, don't sing that horrible rough song!" In this manner something always happened to stop the cap- tain's song, and Charles Lamb said that '' he got so anxious to hear it that it kept him awake nights." Irving had stipulated for the concealment of his name, but in the preface Payne mentioned " his obligation to a literary friend for invaluable assistance." Some time af- terward Payne wrote thus to Irving : " I am imder obli- gations to you beyond the common kindnesses between friends of long standing. In the comedy of Charles the Second I have referred to the assistance you gave me, without violating your injunction of secrecy. I only re- gret that it is not in my power to make a more adequate return." Now that Payne and Irving are both dead, it may be said that the former is the original of " Buck- thorne, or the Man of Great Expectations," in Tales of a Traveler. AUTHOKSHIP AND ChRONOLOGY. While looking at Irving's life I am led to notice the recurrence of the number nine in the following manner : He began authorship in 1809, with the History of New York. In 1819 his Sketch Book was issued in New York, which placed him at the head of American literature. Ten years later (1829) he was the guest of the Spanish government in the Alhambra, and was elevated by his Co- lumbus to the first rank in history. Ten years later (1839) he began his Life of Washington — an old scheme which was thus deferred by circumstances of a peculiar charac- ter. In 1849, Putnam's national edition gave Irving what was called " the verdict of posterity." Ten years later (1859) the Life of Washington was finished. An- other point to be noticed is the connection between au- thorship and mortality. Scott, for instance, reached his Irving. 259 highest degree of fame with the publication of Ivanhoe, but this grand success was marred by the death of his mother and an unusual mortality in the family. The life of Irvins: is also a similar illustration of the contrasted lights and shadows of genius. His first book was pub- lished while its author was crushed by the loss of his be- trothed— Matilda Hoffman — who died just six months before tlie appearance of the Knickerbocker History. His last — The Life of Washington — was finished in the spring of 1859, six months previous to the death of its author. Irving's pen Names. , Irving had five pen names, each so peculiar as to at- tract attention. The first was Jonathan Oldstyle of the Morning Chronicle — the next was Anthony Evergreen, of Salmagundi, and then we have Diedrich Knickerbocker and Geoffrey Crayon. His Chronicles of Grenada were also published as the work of Fra Antonio Agapida, this being another fanciful creation. Rather strange the Old- style articles, though the crudities of a youth of nineteen contain one of the best things the author ever wrote. It has, however, escaped observation, and hence some of my readers may be glad to see a new thing from an old au- thor. Hence I offer the following extract : Among other characters of the play was an ancient maiden, at whom flings and jests were made by the others for the entertain- ment of the audience. I think, however, that these attempts to injure female happiness are both cruel and unmanly. I have ever been an enthusiast in my attachment to the fair sex — I have ever thought them possessed of the strongest claims of our admiration, our tenderness and our protection. When, therefore, to these are added stronger claims — when we see them aged, solitary and ne- glected — cold, indeed, must be the heart that can point the shafts of ridicule and poison the little comfort that heaven may have poured into their cup. This is certainly an admirable sentiment, and indicates the style of thought which Irving maintained through life. 260 OuK Book. Irving and Byeon. Irving was the onlj American who knew the contents of a manuscript volume which has awakened intense curiosity and which indeed had a strange history. A great but poUuted genius writhing under the verdict which society liad uttered against him, wrote the memoirs of his own life, as an appeal which must be heard. It was to have the additional power of a voice uttered from the grave, for not till its author should have been laid there was it to appear. Such was the character of Byron's autobio- graphic memoirs. Having finished the work a few years before his death, he gave it to his friend Tom Moore, who sold it to John Murray for 2,000 guineas — equal to $12,000 — this being the largest sum ever paid for any work of the kind. After making the sale Moore became convinced that its revelations endangered the characters of others to such a degree that its publication would be dangerous. Indeed, when the annunciation was made, society was thrilled with surprise, and no doubt a tremendous influence was brought to bear on its suppression. Moore returned the price to Murray, and the amount was made up to him in a private manner, after which the manuscript was burned. By way of explanation it may be said that as Irving and Moore were intimate friends, the latter consulted the former, who read the work, and therefore knew all its strange revelations. As the book was suppressed, Irving never divulged its secrets. It may be added that the destruction of the manuscript was done by Mrs. Leigh, the poet's half sister, into whose hands it was placed by its former owner. Irving and the Ghost. There was during Irving's life a story afloat concerning his intimacy with ayoungEngli.^hman — an invalid — who Irving. 261 agreed to appear after deatli if he slioiild be invoked. This story is to a cei-tain deojree correct. Tlie invalid referred to whose name was Hall, met Irving in Spain, whither he had gone for his health. Irving gives the following account of the affair : " One day we were talk- ing about ghosts, and Hall suddenly asked me if I should like to receive a visit from him after death? I replied that, as we had always been on good terms, I would not be afraid to receive such a visit if it were practicable. Hall then said he was serious in his idea, and added 'I wish you to say you will consent.' To this I agreed, and Hall then said : ' Irving, it is a compact, and if I can solve the mystery' for you I will do it.' " Soon afterward the invalid expired, and Irving was the only real mourner at the funeral. He wrote to the dead man's friends a full description of the sad event, and, while oppressed with the tender associations of such a mournful scene, he wandered out to one of their former haunts and there recalled the compact. In obedience to his promise he whispered an invocation, but no one appeared, nor did Hall ever make himself present to his last earthly friend. The latter was wont to say that " the ghosts were not kind to him." Similar Case. Ben Franklin mentions a similar agreement which he made with a friend named Osborne, when he was a young man living in Philadelphia. He says in his autobio- graphy, " We had seriously engaged that Avhoever died first should return, if possible, and pay a friendly visit to the survivor, to give him an account of the other world," and he adds, " Osborne never fulfilled his engagement." This desire for such mysterious knowledge is so natural that it has been a matter of discussion for ages, and Blair thus alludes to it in his poem, The Grave : 2G2 Our Book. Tell us, ye dead! Will none of you in pity To tliose you left behind disclose the secret? O, that some courteous ghost would blab it out, What 'tis you are and we must shortly be? Hoffman and Irving. The late Charles F. Hoifman was half-brother to Ma- tilda Hoffman — the object of Irving's early affection. Matilda was the daughter of Josiah Ogden Hoffman, an eminent attorney, who had been left a widower with sev- eral children. The youngest of these was Ogden, who became so noted for his eloquence. Two others were daughters, the youngest of whom was Irving's betrothed. Her mother died early, while Ogden was but a small child. Before Irving had become acquainted with the family there was a second Mrs. Hoffman, who lind three children, one of whom was the unfortunate Cliarlcs. The family was a very happy one, and the new mother was deeply beloved. She was a favorite with Irving, who at that time was studying law in Hoffman's office. How odd to think of Irving's Matilda as a pupil at the writing-master's; and yet, by reference to the Museum, published weekly in New York, in 1798, I see the adver- tisement of "Jenkins' Writing School," which contains the following certificate : I engaged John Jenkins to give my daughter — a child not nine years old, and who was altogether ignorant of writing — twenty- one lessons. I have great pleasure in saying that by his instruc- tion she has acquired a legible and good handwriting. I tliere- fore cheerfully recommend Mr. Jenkins' manner of teaching as deserving peculiar encouragement. Josiah Ogden Hoffman, Attorney-General to the State of New York. Decemher 21, 1798. Irving, at the date of the advertisement, was fifteen, and was attending Fisk's High School, and the next year he began the distasteful study of the law. He first en- tered Masterton's office, but in two years began his studies Irving. 263 wiih Hoffman, and this led to liis acquaintance with the former pnpil of the writing-master. Josiali Ogden Hoffman had reason to be proud of his children. Of those of his lirst marriage, Matilda won the heart of Washington Irving, while Ogden became the most brilhant advocate of the age. Of the second family, Julia was an elegant woman, and Charles became a very popular writer. I met him during the latter part of his literary life, and noticed his fine personal appearance, not- withstanding his lame leg. He started the Knickerbocker Magazine, and afterward the American Monthly, In 1846 he began a comic weekly called Yankee Doodle, which was unsuccessful ; but its columns were graced by an effusion which will Hve as long as our national litera- ture. This is his Monterey. The news of Taylor's vic- tory over the Mexicans had just been received and oc- CHARLES F. HOFFMAN. casioned that thrilling outburst of martial poetry. It was among his last pieces, and is the only one which will live. Soon afterward it was whispered that his mind was fail- ing, and it was not long before he was placed in an asylum, where he remained until relieved by death. 264 OuK Book. Ikving's Sorrows. Irving lost his father, his best beloved sister and his betrothed within the space of little more than a year. Such blows would naturally affect, in a very powerful manner, a sensitive young man of twenty-five, but they were followed by other disastrous changes. He became a partner with his brotliers, and the firm failed. He went to Liverpool to take charge of the business, and bank- ruptcy overtook him in a strange land. Under such cir- cumstances he thus writes to Mrs. Hoffman : I have been so crushed by cares and troubles that I liave almost abandoned letter writing, and indeed would do so altogether but that I am fearful that those whose affection I most value would either forget me or think I had forgotten them. I met Mr. Ver- planck lately, and the sight of iiim brought up a thousand melan- ciioly reflections of past scenes and of distant friends, and also of those that have gone to a better world. When I look back a few years, what changes have taken place! Is this an epoch i)eculiar for its vicissitudes, or has my own circle been especially subject to calamity, or is it the common lot of man to find, as he advances, the blows of fate thickening? What wreck and ruin a few short years have produced ! My future prospects are dark and uncer- tain, but I hope for the best, and may yet find wholesome fruit springing up from trouble and adversity. "When we consider that Irving's subsequent life was liiglily prosperous, we may see the benefit of his example in always hoping for the best. The darkest hour is often just before dawn. It was at such a time that he ventured the publication of the Sketch Book, which brought him immediate success. Byron. Yiewing Byron either physically or intellectually his life was unusually rapid. His poetic career was hardly more than ten years in duration, and he ceased writing at an age when most men have hardly reached notice. Walter Scott, for instance, at that age had only published his Border Minstrelsy and a few ballads. Byron wrote nothing for the press after his thirty-fourth year, B T IE © W Byron. 265 his lines on reacbing tliirty-six being merely a personal lament, and he died three months afterward. His history may be divided into four parts : First, from infancy to the university, a period of nineteen years; second, uni- versity to marriage, a period of right years ; third, mar- ried life, a period of thirteen months; fourth, life in Italy and death in Greece, including a pe'-iod of little more than seven years. The first of these periods gives us the vrild and head- strong boy at school in Scotland, of which country his mother was a native. No control was exercised upon his passions, which he inherited in great force from both parents. Capt. Byron, indeed, was a notorious profligate, who died when the future poet was only three, and on the other hand the mother was subject to fierce paroxysms of rage. Capt. Byron was married twice, the fruit of the first union being Augusta, who was, therefore, the poet's half- sister. He says of this period in his life: "I differed not from other children, except in my sullen moods, and then I was a devil. They once wrenched a knife from me which I had applied to my own breast. My passions were developed so early that few people would believe me." This ferocity was the prominent feature in his life, and is one of the proofs of mental disease. He had what he calls "an infant passion for Mary Duff." At twelve he was so deeply in love with his cousin that it called forth his first poem* He says tliat "the effect of his passion was that he could not eat nor sleep." The girl died soon afterward, and before two years were past he was again intensely in love, the object of liis affection being Mary Chaworth, whom he called " the star of his boyhood." He says : " Our union would have healed feuds and joined lands." 34 266 Our "Book. Castelar is of the opinion that it should have taken place, and that it would have changed favorably the poet's life. This view I cannot accept. She was two years his senior, and being his third love, would naturally have given away to other attractions. I do not believe that Byron and Mary Chaworth would have lived together a year. It is my conviction, based on his own sentiments, that his " love," as he called it, was as diseased as the rest of his nature. Evidently it was as variable as it was intense. Having begun with Mary Duff in childhood, it shifted from one object to another. He says that he was " attached fifty times before marriage." After his wife had left him he continued these varied attachments until he reached GuiccioH, and when he got tired of her he went to Greece, where death stopped his amours. Education. He thus speaks of his university life : " I took mv graduation in the vices with great promptitude, but they were not to my taste." He means that he was too soli- tary to go into what he calls " the commonplace liber- tinism of the university." He adds : " The heart thrown back on itself threw me into excesses, perhaps more fatal than those from which I shrunk." From such hints as these it may be inferred that Byron's college life was marred by dissipation and licentiousness. He had a set of wild, but talented companions, including Bankes and llobhouse, but the most noted was Matthews, who was, indeed, one of the most gifted men in England. He gave promise of attaining distinction, but was drowned while bathing. It was these roysterers that he invited to Newstead Abbey, and as a costumer had provided them with monas- tic robes their orgies were the more fantastic when con- Byros. 2G7 trasted with the gai'b of a religious order. On tliese occasions Bjron was styled "the abbott." lie had amused himself while in the university by writing poetry, and in his nineteenth year, having left Cam!)ridge, he published Hours of Idleness. Had it not been for the attack made on this volume by the Edinburgh Review it Avould have died a natural death, and th't would have been the end of Lord Byron. The review was bitter and unjust as a criticism and rude in its personal allusions, but it was jnst what was wanted to wake up dormant genius, and he had a reply ready for the press before the end of the year, but while the world was thrilled by English Bards and Scotch Reviewers the author had siiiled on a voyage to Spain. After two years' absence in the east Byron returned and published Childe Harold. He was then (1812) ni his twenty-third year, and it is surprising that the lame which this work conferred did not make him dizzy. Probably the reason why it did not was because the love of fame had less power over liim tlian his sensual passion. The loose morals of Spanish life liad their natural effect and the scenes of the Orient were much of the same character. He came back ready to alternate in the service of the muse on the one hand and the teni[)Ie of Venus on the other. His poetic fertility at that time was wonderful. Childe Harold was followed by the Curse of Minerva, the Giaour, the Bi'ide of Abydos and the Corsair — all published within three years after his return, the author being then just twenty-five. Ko such precocity can else- where be met in the annals of genius, and the best explanation is found in the fact that it was that rapid operation which is generally the proof of disease. He was as he said — " unnaturally old." The Bride of Aby- 268 OuE Book. dos was written in four nights, in order to divert his mind from an unpleasant subject. During this time he was on the managing committee of Drury Lane Theater and had every facility of loose life. One of the actresses was under his " protection," as he expresses it, and the occasional hints in his letters prove that he sank deep into the vices of the metropolis. This was a strange preparation for domestic life and hence one is somewhat surprised at tlie announcement which he thus makes to Tom Moore : September 20, 1814. Dear Moore, — I am going to be married. You need not be iu a hurry to wisli me joy. I must of course, reform thoroughly. This last sentence is decidedly suggestive, but as for reformation, that was impossible. To another person he writes concerning the happy event : " You know I must be serious all the rest of my life." With such prepara- tions he approached a union with an heiress on whose wealth he laid favorable eyes. He was so reduced by his extravagance that money must be had, while some check to his excesses was necessary to save him from decay and perhaj)s early death. ,. The Bkide. • She who was to be offered up to this combination of genius, drunkenness and passion was a calm and self- possessed young woman of twenty-three, of fine mathe- matical abilities and one who, being controlled by reason as well as by affection, was just the reverse of her be- trothed. In fact, the union was, to a very great degree, the reverse of the sex in each party. Anna Arabella Mil- banke — commonly called Annab ell — the discreet and methodical bride, was of the masculine element, while the passionate, capricious, unstable and heedless poet, was what is sometimes regarded as ihe feminine. Byeon. 209 On Jiimuiry 2, 1815, the wedding took place, the poet being nearly twenty-seven. Seldom is a man found less fitted for married life, and his opinion of the condition is thus expressed in a letter to Moore jnst a month after- ward : " The treacle moon is over ; I am awake and find myself married. * * * Swift says no wise man ever marries, but for a fool I think it the most ambrosial of all future states." The reformation of which Byron spoke was hardly at- tempted. He commenced married life in London, and in elegant style ; spent his money lavishly — was a regular patron of the theatre in all its freedom, and mingled in orgies of the vilest character. Toward autumn, when Lady Byron ^vas approaching maternity, her husband was reveling at dinners whose drunkenness he chronicles in his letters. On the 10th of December Ada was born, and the poet writes to Moore that " it is a large child for her days," and adds : " I have been married a year, heigh ho ! " Little did he think that he was so soon to be free from such burdens. A SENSIBLE Woman. The lorn Annabell had for a wliole year lived with a poetical rake whose reformation at last seemed beyond hope. lie was the most brilliant writer of his day, and yet his evil habits more than off-set his fame. Had he loved his wife slie might have endured a still greater bur- den of misery, but she learned by a year of sorrow that his heart was in the stews of London. She had become the mother of a lovely babe, and this at once absorbed her soul. The reckless debauchee whom she was once proud to call husband had lost his power over her. The babe was her life, and the question was how to save it from the abominations which overhung the father's name for two generations. 270 OcK Book. One excuse, however, liad caused her to contemplate him with pitj, and made her willing to cling to his side. He was insane ! Such, indeed, was the theory by which she accounted for that abominable depravity whicli no words could express. She would not abandon the wretched lunatic, brute as he had become. This explains the kind- ness which she displayed when they parted (the last time), six weeks after Ada's birth. She went to visit her parents in the country, and then thought to return, but having reached her paternal home, a thorough examination was made of her husband's conduct. She was forced by fresh testimony, obtained in a way which I need not describe, to another conclusion. That conclusion was that, so far from being a lunatic, he had full use of his reason ; the trouble was not insanity, but the domination of foul and damning passions. Informa- tion was then conveyed to the poet that the separation was forever, and they never met again. In this way the greatest woman-killer of the day found that there was at least one of the sex who was his master. He also learned that the details of his evil life had been discovered by his indignant wife by means of an espionage under which he had been placed. The woman had completely out-gen- eraled him, and if he demanded the babe she was ready to meet him in the courts with proof. Byron's wife became a widow at thirty-two, but never married again. She rarely sought society, but visited Walter Scott at Abbottsford in 1817, when Ada was nearly two years old. No doubt she had at this time heard of Allegra, who was then nearly a year old. Scott writes thus of this visit in a letter to a friend : "My heart ached for her all the time we were together — there was 80 much patience and decent resignation to a situation which must have pressed on her thoughts, that she was to Bykon. 271 me one of the most interesting creatures I had seen for a score of years." Lady Byron devoted much of the last thii-ty yeai*s of her hfe to works of benevolence, and died ill 18G0, being then in liur sixty -nintli year. She sur- vived her husl)and thirty-six years, and her only child (Ada) one-