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Reminiscences and Essays 
 
 Charles B. McMichael 
 
 Lawyer, Judge, Litterateur 
 
 With a Sketch of His Career 
 By 
 
 Albert Mordell 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED, 1 922 
 
<>>^ 
 
 -?%^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 Copyright, ig22 
 
 By 
 
 Charles B. McMichael 
 
 ©CI.AGyn08 9 
 
 NOV 10 22 
 
 'VaD 
 
 I 
 
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 For '' Ourselves'''' 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sketch of Hon. Charles B. McMichael 7 
 
 At a Bull Fight in Spain 18 
 
 The Gayety, Charm and Frivolity of Aix-Les-Bains 23 
 
 Impressions of Florence 29 
 
 Studying Spanish to Read Don Quixote 34 
 
 Catullus, Graceful Poet of Old Rome 38 
 
 Terence 42 
 
SKETCH OF HON CHARLES B. McMICHAEL 
 
 Judge Charles B. McMichael was born in Philadelphia on 
 February 23, 1850. He attended the Friends' Grammar School 
 at Fifteenth and Race Streets, and afterwards the Classical 
 Academy of Charles Short at Twelfth and Chestnut streets. 
 He was prepared for college by Reginald Chase, who had a 
 school on Locust street. When a boy of fiften he decided to 
 go to Harvard College. His father and brother had been grad- 
 uates of the University of Pennsylvania. His father yielded to 
 his wishes, and when sixteen McMichael entered the Class of 
 1870. He was graduated with the class and not long ago cele- 
 brated with his surviving classmates the fiftieth anniversary of 
 graduation. Among the men of his class who have since been 
 distinguished were Roger Wolcott, Lieutenant Governor and 
 afterwards Governor of Massachusetts ; Brooks Adams, the 
 author, and brother of Henry Adams; Judge Lunt, of Colorado, 
 and Judge Monro, of California. 
 
 Judge McMichael has told me that when a lad at college 
 he often used to see Longfellow, the poet, on the streets of 
 Cambridge ; Oliver Wendell Holmes, who entertained him ; 
 James Russell Lowell, with whom he read Dante; Goodwin, 
 professor of Greek ; Professor Sophocles, a Greek, who taught 
 Homer; Dr. Peabody, president of Harvard before Dr. Eliot; 
 Fiske, the American historian, who was tutor; Bowen, professor 
 of political economy; Greenough and Lane, professors of Latin, 
 and best and greatest of all. Professor Childs — "Stubby" 
 Childs, as the boys used to call him on account of his diminu- 
 tive stature, whose name is familiar to all students of the English 
 ballad. 
 
 Professor Childs took a very deep interest in McMichael 
 and commended him before the whole class for his work in 
 English composition and theme writing. 
 
 Professor Lowell, who had resumed the teaching of 
 foreign languages, owing to the illness of Professor Cutler, 
 taught McMichael's class in Dante. He was always dressed 
 
8 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 with great care and elegance and read Dante in the original 
 Italian and also translated it. Judge McMichael relates that 
 the boys were somewhat restless under Professor Lowell's 
 instruction and were not as quiet and orderly as they should 
 have been. This seemed to irritate Lowell very much. On 
 one occasion he became very nervous and told the Doys plainly 
 that if they did not behave better they would not get any 
 more Dante, 
 
 Judge McMichael has also told me that during his senior 
 year he used to go into the lectures on surgery at the clinic 
 of a Massachusetts hospital. Doctor Bigelow was the chief 
 operating surgeon. Judge McMichael was not quite sure 
 whether he would study medicine and surgery or law. But 
 when he graduated and thought it over, he decided for his 
 first love, the law. These earlier tastes have been followed 
 by the Judge late in life. He has been an attendant of Doctor 
 Da Costa's lectures on Saturday mornings for years, and he 
 has gone to clinics at Jefiferson College occasionally, 
 
 McMichael studied law in the office of William Henry 
 Rawle, Esq., and was also a student at, and graduate of, the 
 Law School of the University of Pennsylvania, which was 
 situated where the present post office is. Among the pro- 
 fessors at that time were Hon. J. L Clark Hare, Pemberton 
 Morris, E. Coppee Mitchell, Theophilus Parsons, George 
 Tucker Bispham, 
 
 He was admitted to the bar on May 6, 1872. 
 
 His early practice was in the United States Court, where 
 he had a large civil and criminal practice. In the middle 
 seventies he declined the position of first assistant United 
 States Attorney, which was offered to him by John Valentine, 
 Esq., then United States Attorney. 
 
 He soon acquired a large practice in the Common Pleas 
 Courts; he was much engaged in the trial of jury cases both 
 in the United States Courts and in the Courts of Common 
 Pleas of this county ; he was also quite often called upon to 
 take part in jury trials in the Federal Courts in New York 
 and other districts. He represented the firm of Vermilye and 
 
SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 9 
 
 Company, of New York, in the elevated railway cases in this 
 city and other important matters; he was counsel for the 
 Mercantile Trust Company, of New York City, in one of the 
 Reading Railroad reorganizations ; he was retained in other 
 litigations in the Federal Courts in New York and other 
 jurisdictions. He had as colleagues James S. Carter, Esq., 
 Joseph Choate, Esq., of Evarts, Southmayd & Choate; John 
 R. DosPassos, Esq., and Hon. George W. Wickersham, of 
 the New York Bar. 
 
 At this period of his practice he represented the Have- 
 meyers, the Sugar Trust, William A. Read & Company, J. P. 
 Morgan & Company, Edward Sweet & Company, Seligman 
 Brothers, and HoUins & Company, of New York. McMichael 
 was directing counsel for the elevated railroad cases, in which 
 Belmont & Company, W. H. Read & Company and Edward 
 Sweet & Company, of New York, were the underwriting bankers. 
 He argued the elevated railroad cases, in connection with Mayer 
 Sulzberger, who was his colleague ; they were opposed by John 
 G. Johnson, Rufus Shapley and Furman Sheppard, of Phila- 
 delphia; James S. Carter and George W. Wickersham, of New 
 York, were also of counsel with McMichael in the elevated rail- 
 road cases. 
 
 From 1881 to 1891 McMichael was assistant to the City 
 Solicitor, Mr. West, and afterwards to Mr. Warwick, and he 
 had charge of the city cases in the Supreme Court of Pennsyl- 
 vania. Upon one occasion in the early nineties McMichael 
 spent two consecutive days before the Supreme Court in arguing 
 six different cases, one following the other. When he left the 
 Law Department he was first assistant. McMichael compiled a 
 history of the Municipal Law of Philadelphia, containing a 
 digest of all the charters, statutes, and decided cases up to the 
 date of the publication, in 1887. 
 
 One of the first cases in which McMichael was employed 
 as counsel outside of the city of Philadelphia was when, soon 
 after his admission to the bar, he was sent to state the Penn- 
 sylvania law of forgery before the court of Canada at Montreal, 
 and demand the return of a fugitive who had forged the name 
 
10 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 of U. S. Grant, then President of the United States, to 
 important papers. 
 
 In later years McMichael was of counsel in several 
 important cases before Canadian courts, and also was engaged, 
 together with John G. Johnson, who was local counsel in 
 Philadelphia, in foreclosing a Canadian railroad. McMichael 
 was so fascinated by the charms of Canada that he purchased 
 an island in a Canadian lake near the terminus of the railroad 
 which he had foreclosed, and built a cottage and boathouse 
 there. 
 
 McMichael was appointed to the bench in March, 1896, 
 by Governor Hastings, upon the recommendation of a Com- 
 mittee of The Law Association of Philadelphia, of which 
 committee C. Stuart Patterson, Esq., M. Hampton Todd, Esq., 
 and J. Levering Jones, Esq., were members. They visited 
 Governor Hastings personally, urging the appointment. 
 
 Since he has been elevated to the bench Judge McMichael 
 has decided so many cases in the Common Pleas Courts that 
 it is impossible to enumerate them. He has been elected to 
 the bench three times. In equity cases Judge McMichael has 
 been reversed not more than three or four times; his per- 
 centage of reversals in jury cases tried in Common Pleas is 
 very small. During the last year he has not been reversed at 
 all, and the year before that there were two reversals in jury 
 cases and one in equity. In this latter, however, there was a 
 strong dissent in the Supreme Court. 
 
 At one time, during the busiest part of McMichael's career 
 at the bar, he acted as editor of "The North American" for 
 his brother, Clayton McMichael, who was then United States 
 Marshal at Washington during the terms of President Arthur 
 and President Cleveland. 
 
 Judge McMichael has told the author that he used to go 
 to his private law ofifice at 9 o'clock and then to the City 
 Solicitor's office or to court at 10 o'clock, and then back to 
 his private office at 3, leave there about half past 5, and then 
 go to the newspaper office at 10 o'clock at night and stay 
 there until quarter of 2. And he did this for two years. 
 
SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 11 
 
 He did the newspaper work out of affection for his brother. 
 In these two years McMichael was under the literary and jour- 
 nalistic direction of Mr. George Rogers, now editor of "The 
 Philadelphia Inquirer." 
 
 In a recent life of Goethe by Hume Browne, Goethe is 
 quoted as having said something to the effect that if a man 
 turn whithersoe'er he will, he will return to the path which 
 Providence destined him for. A good deal of Judge 
 McMichael's leisure time after he had graduated from college 
 and had been admitted to the bar was devoted to the study 
 of literature, and all his life he has been a student of foreign 
 languages. At the suggestion of Mr. Rogers, who was 
 then chief editor of his father's newspaper, "The North 
 American," he wrote for that paper a number of articles 
 upon special subjects. He remembers articles written upon 
 "Fairs," "Markets" and "Dances." All these had quite a 
 vogue, being copied in the exchanges. But afterwards the 
 pressure on McMichael's time when he was practicing law 
 was so great that all the literary work was abandoned except 
 that three afternoons a week were given up to the study of 
 French and German. McMichael had a teacher in each of 
 these languages come to his office at 5 o'clock, and they would 
 generally spend an hour in study. He has continued all 
 through life studying and reading foreign languages. In 
 addition to French and German he has studied Italian, Spanish 
 (though he did not take up Spanish until he was over fifty) 
 and Swedish. And besides that he had kept up his Greek and 
 Latin studies. 
 
 McMichael during the most active part of his career at the 
 bar, when at home in the summer vacation (for he seldom left 
 town during the months of July and August, taking his vacation 
 later), translated into English several of the odes of Horace, and 
 poems of Catullus and Tibullus ; but he thought that this devotion 
 to literature might interfere with his reputation and success as a 
 lawyer and advocate, and at the end of the summer he destroyed 
 these translations. 
 
 He is ruled by a very great passion for letters, and 
 
12 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 has shown himself a facile translator from the Spanish and 
 Italian and a delightful critic of Latin and French authors. 
 He has published interesting accounts of travels in Spain and 
 Italy; he has composed poems that have merit; he is a great 
 lover of the beautiful. 
 
 Judge McMichael reads his classics in the original for 
 delight. Of the Roman poets there is none whom Judge 
 McMichael loves more than Catullus. The Judge is a man 
 of broad tastes and is not driven by any Puritanical instincts 
 to shun this fine lyricist, who occasionally introduces unper- 
 missible things in his poems. 
 
 Judge McMichael wrote a fine little feuilleton on Catullus, 
 reprinted here, in one of the papers (The Press, October 24, 
 1915), and it was translated into Italian and appeared in one 
 of the Italian papers of this city. Judge McMichael introduces 
 in his critical writings delicate personal touches that enhance 
 their value and make them human and interesting. If he loves a 
 poet he tells how he came to love him and why. 
 
 When several years ago the Little Theatre produced 
 some plays of Barrie and Lord Dunsany, Judge McMichael 
 was tempted to go back to his Terence, and he wrote very 
 gracefully of the Roman comedian. Judge McMichael reads 
 his Terence in the original, as he does his Catullus. The 
 essay on Terence is included in this brochure. Another play- 
 wright of whom Judge McMichael is fond is Le Sage, whose 
 reputation as the author of "Gil Bias" has eclipsed his fame 
 as a dramatist. McMichael has also written of him. 
 
 There is much delightful writing in his accounts of his 
 travels in France, Spain and Italy. Whether Judge McMichael 
 writes of a bull fight or of Toledo, Rome or Florence, whether 
 he describes a health resort in France or the scenes of Don 
 Quixote's travels, he is always entertaining. A clarity of 
 style and a modesty of tone pervade these writings ; a sort 
 of unconsciousness of his dignity as a leading member of the 
 judiciary is present; he seeks to take you into his confidence; 
 he shows you the places he has visited and tries to imbue you 
 
SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 13 
 
 with a love for the historic scenes, and, above all, for the books 
 associated with them. He takes you, as it were, by the 
 shoulder and says "If you, too, can love the old Knight of La 
 Mancha, and you, too, can wax indignant with the divine 
 Dante, then a bond of brotherhood is established between 
 you and me." 
 
 Judge McMichael has a great admiration for the authors 
 in the Romance languages. He realizes that these writers 
 have a certain love of color, a certain freedom from devotion 
 to Puritanical ideals, that elevates their work from an 
 artistic point of view. The American and Anglo-Saxon ask 
 of a work of art, "What does it teach?" Is it something 
 against the church and the state? Then dismiss it." The 
 Latin asks, "Is it beautiful? Is it art? Is it a human experi- 
 ence even though it cannot be made to square with the man- 
 dates of the law? Is it well written? If so, give it to me." 
 This is the more liberal point of view, and one may add, the 
 only point of view for the proper and broader appreciation 
 of letters. It is a position attained by very few ; Poe was 
 one of our own writers who fought for these views. Judge 
 McMichael adopts this standpoint. He is a great admirer of 
 D'Annunzio, whom he regards as almost the greatest, if not 
 the greatest, living writer. He is entranced by the matchless 
 style and color of the author of "The Triumph of Death"; he 
 esteems him as a patriot as well. He has translated D'An- 
 nunzio's war poem, "II Rinato." Another modern whom 
 Judge McMichael loves is the late Ruben Dario, the South 
 American poet. We Americans have often such an over- 
 weening pride in our literary superiority that we ignore what 
 our contemporaries in the Latin and South American coun- 
 tries are doing in letters. Dario visited New York some years 
 ago, and his sojourn here was almost unnoticed. He had 
 attained a little notoriety here for a while by a poem against 
 Roosevelt. Dario's influence in South America has been 
 tremendous. Brought up on the French Romanticists and 
 our own Poe and Whitman, he achieved an enviable position. 
 
14 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 The first translation of a piece in English for a Philadelphia 
 publication was by Judge McMichael. It consisted of 
 extracts from a book of essays and appeared October 15, 1916. 
 Judge McMichael has also translated a beautiful tale by Dario 
 called "The Death of the Empress of China." It is a story of 
 a wife jealous of her sculptor husband's devotion to a fine 
 porcelain bust of a Chinese Empress. The wife destroys 
 the bust. 
 
 As a translator from the Italian and Spanish, Judge 
 McMichael has done exceedingly fine work. He is faithful 
 to the original, preserving the simplicity or beauty or gor- 
 geousness, as the case may be, and one can never tell the work 
 is translated. He reminds one of the translations from 
 Gautier, Maupassant and others by Lafcadio Hearn, who was 
 among the first to introduce the French Romanticists in Eng- 
 lish, in the pages of "The New Orleans Times-Democrat." 
 
 Judge McMichael has the distinction of having intro- 
 duced for the first time to the English reader three great con- 
 temporary foreign authors, the Italian collector of fairy tales, 
 Diego Angeli, and the Spanish authors, J. Octavio Picon and 
 Leopoldo Alas. Picon's "Souls in Contrast" and "After the 
 Battle" are masterpieces. "The Menace" is also good. "Souls 
 in Contrast" is poignant, psychological and humanitarian. 
 The beauty of the descriptions in "After the Battle" where 
 a modem French Sisera, without the cruelty of the Biblical 
 character, deceives an infatuated Prussian officer in the war 
 of 1870, is unsurpassed. "The Menace" shows how an injured 
 workingman revenges himself on his employer by begging in 
 front of his mansion. Alas's story, "Adios Cordera," tells 
 how a girl was deprived of both her cow for market purposes 
 and of her brother by conscription. The pathos and humanity 
 of the tale are not surpassed by Dickens. Truly these Span- 
 iards love art and can write. No one can read these tales 
 without being filled with enthusiasm. One wishes that Judge 
 McMichael would translate more, for it is a treat to the 
 
 m 
 
SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 15 
 
 reader to get these stories so admirably translated. These 
 tales have since been collected in book form. 
 
 Hardly less important than these translations are the 
 beautiful fairy tales, four in number, which Judge McMichael 
 has translated from Diego Angeli's "Stretta la foglia," pub- 
 lished in 1910. These are stories of the Italian peasants told 
 by a nurse ; they differ somewhat from the English and 
 French and German stories, though there are resemblances. 
 Those translated are "The Story of Leombruno," "The Story 
 of the Dragon With the Seven Heads," "The Story of Fiorindo 
 and Chiara Stella" and "The Story of Oraggio and Bianchin- 
 etta." Judge McMichael has also translated the beautiful 
 preface of the author, "A Boy's Dreams of Fairyland." All these 
 appeared in "The Philadelphia Press." 
 
 The tale of Leombruno is especially fine. It tells how 
 a fisherman was captured by a pirate and had to promise 
 him his own son in order to be released. The Italian love 
 of children is seen here. The old pirate wanted a son, and 
 is disappointed when an eagle takes him away. The son 
 marries a famous beauty, but longs for his father and 
 brothers. He is temporarily released and makes his relatives 
 rich. He is asked to marry a king's daughter and then con- 
 fesses his marriage, though he was forbidden to do so. He is 
 compelled to produce his wife ; she snatches away a magic 
 ring she had given her husband and disappears. Then 
 Leombruno sets out on a quest for his wife. He finds her and 
 kisses her as she is asleep and she is restored to his affections. 
 
 Judge McMichael has the true literary man's love for 
 folk-lore, as he has for more intellectual literature. His 
 literary labors are those of pure love. He finds in his library 
 great pleasure in reading and writing. He finds naturally very 
 few people who are acquainted with the unknown authors from 
 Spain and Italy that he loves. 
 
 Thus far Judge McMichael has published in book form 
 two collections of translations. The first volume was issued 
 by Boni & Liveright in 1920. It is called "Short Stories from 
 
16 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 the Spanish," and is a collection of six stories he translated 
 into English, all of which, as enumerated above, except Dario's 
 "The Box" and "Queen Mab" appeared in "The Philadelphia 
 Press." There are three tales by Dario ; two by Picon and 
 one by Alas. The volume was beautifully illustrated by 
 McDevitt Welsh. It aroused favorable comment from the 
 reviewers. "The New York Times" for June 18, 1920, said 
 the translation was "wholly commendable. In fact, the book 
 reads as if written in English and good English to boot. No 
 higher praise can be bestowed upon a translation." "The 
 Philadelphia Record," for January 23, 1921, said: "He has 
 caught the Spanish spirit and made it blaze in every line of 
 the stories. It is a delight to read Judge McMichael's masterly 
 translation of the six samples of Spanish stories." 
 
 There were favorable notices of the book in the "New 
 Republic" and the "Boston Evening Transcript," 
 
 In the early part of this year another volume of transla- 
 tions appeared by McMichael. This was "Prosas Profanas 
 and Other Poems," by Ruben Dario, and was issued by 
 Nicholas L. Brown, of New York. This was the second time 
 a volume of poems by Dario appeared in English. Judge 
 McMichael's translations were literal, in free verse and caught 
 the spirit of the original. There was included a translation 
 of Dario's preface to "Prosas Profanas." The work attracted 
 the notice of reviewers. 
 
 Judge McMichael has also translated Rodo's essay on 
 Dario, which will soon appear in print. This was one of the 
 most herculean tasks ever undertaken by a translator, as the 
 original is very involved. 
 
 Most of McMichael's original articles consist of critical 
 essays and travel sketches contributed to "The Philadelphia 
 Press" and "The Public Ledger." It is from these that all 
 the articles in the present volume, except the one on Florence, 
 are chosen. McMichael gives all his writings a delicious 
 personal touch. They seem to be written for a few friends. 
 They are all spontaneous, lucid, kindly. They represent the 
 
 1 
 
SKETCH OF HON. CHARLES B. MCMICHAEL 17 
 
 man who sees with a generous eye and judges with a sympa- 
 thetic heart. Judge McMichael has written on such diverse 
 subjects as Chambery — the Home of Rousseau, on Le Sage, 
 the French novelist, and on the Panama Exposition. He has 
 described Spanish life in Toledo and Madrid; he has given us 
 impressions of Rome and depicted Roman scenes ; he has 
 written of France ; he has put on record the account of an 
 automobile trip from Biarritz to Madrid. I should also men- 
 tion his excellent account of his father published in "In re 
 Morton McMichael." 
 
 The sketches here reprinted are full of literary flavor. We 
 see the scholar in the account of Florence ; the painter in the 
 description, in simple vivid language, of the bull fight. One 
 notes the tenderness of the author for Catullus, whom with 
 Horace, Judge McMichael has always loved. There is a 
 light touch in the account of the gambling at Aix-les-Bains. 
 "The Learning Spanish to Read One Book" is deliberately 
 and deliciously personal. In the article which deals with 
 Terence we have again McMichael the scholar. 
 
 The present brochure will, I hope, be appreciated not 
 only by all those who have known and loved Judge McMichael, 
 but by students of literature as well. 
 
 Judge McMichael was married on the 7th day of June, 
 1879, to Anna Mallet Prevost, daughter of General Charles 
 Mallet Prevost and Caroline Sutherland Prevost. Mrs. 
 McMichael died in 1904. He was married the second time 
 June 14, 1911, to Susan Cummins Erben. 
 
 Judge McMichael had two children by his first wife, Caro- 
 line, now married to Frederic R. Kirkland, and Charles Pre- 
 vost, who lost his life in the World War while in the service 
 of the United States as first lieutenant in the ambulance 
 corps of the United States army. 
 
 I wish to thank the editor of the "Public Ledger" for 
 permission to reprint the accounts of the bull fight and of 
 the gayety at Aix-les-Bains. I also wish to thank the editor 
 of "The Record" for allowing me to reprint part of the fore- 
 going sketch. Albert Mordell. 
 
AT A BULL FIGHT IN SPAIN 
 
 The morning' after our arrival in Madrid, we began to 
 inquire about tickets for the "Correa del Toros." The portier 
 of the Hotel de Paris said he would get us good seats. About 
 three times a day some one of us would ask him in English 
 or Spanish, "Have you the tickets?" With an amiable but 
 irritating smile he replied "Manana," tomorrow. However, 
 in the end he did not disappoint us. We had three seats "in 
 ombra," in the first gallery. The "Plaza del Toros" is quite a 
 long distance from the "Puerta del Sol," where our hotel was 
 situated, so we took a cab. In Spain the cab drivers are a 
 most pleasant and loquacious lot, and are always ready and 
 anxious to discuss a "bull fight" or any other topic, and they are 
 all "aficionados," that is "amateurs." "Fans" we would call 
 them in our national game. 
 
 In San Sebastian the driver of our carriage, who wore a 
 picturesque red beret or cap, spoke with enthusiasm of the 
 black bulls of Murcia and his favorite "Espada" was Puente. 
 He said the Murcian bulls roared like lions, and he gave an 
 imitation for the benefit of the ladies who did not under- 
 stand Spanish. In Bilboa, our driver was a devoted adherent 
 of "Bomba" and praised the bulls of Portugal. "They are 
 as fierce as tigers," said he. The Madrid cabbies cracked up 
 the merits of Porthe of Seville. 
 
 On our way to the Plaza we saw a few of the "toreros" 
 driving out. They wore beautiful costumes of blue, silver, 
 purple, brown and old gold. When we arrived at the Plaza 
 del Toros we found ourselves at a building about the size of 
 the pavilion at the Polo Grounds, New York. It seats about 
 35,000 people and was filled with a crowd of men, very well 
 dressed and orderly. There were few women, and we were dis- 
 appointed to find that these did not wear the mantillas or lace 
 scarfs seen in pictures. Perhaps the ladies dress more pictur- 
 esquely in Seville. The women wore their hats and I suppose 
 were therefore about as popular as women today at a baseball 
 
 I 
 
AT A BULL FIGHT 19 
 
 match. Our seats cost $1 apiece and a trifle was expected to be 
 given to the usher. The sellers of postcards, of cooling drinks 
 and of "pastiles," or candies, were in evidence. 
 
 The "toreros," or bull fighters, are divided into "pica- 
 dores," who ride on horseback — these carry a spike or lance 
 and their legs are protected by heavy gaiters, the horses being 
 blindfolded over one eye ; "banderillos," who carry two darts 
 or javelins, and the chief performer, who is called "espada." 
 He carries a short, straight sword called "escope" and a cloak 
 of brilliant red called "capote." The "espada," or "matador," 
 always wears beautiful costumes. The "picadores," "bander- 
 illos" and "espada" make up what is called a "cuadrillo." 
 
 The performance began punctually. A procession 
 of the "toreros" came into the "arena" and marched around. 
 The director of the show and the "alcade" had boxes in a 
 balcony immediately over our seats. The royal box was in 
 the centre of the pavilion. The procession stopped in front 
 and bowed. The "alcade," or mayor, threw down a key. 
 The picadores took stations some distance from each other, 
 and the other bull fighters were scattered about the arena. 
 An official took the key and with it opened the door imme- 
 diately opposite the royal box. The door was scarcely open 
 when a huge black bull of Murcian breed came charging in, 
 roaring like a lion indeed. Around the base of the inside of 
 the pavilion was a running plank about two feet high and a barrier 
 back of it about six feet from the ground. The bull fighters 
 remained in the arena, but their attendants, when the bull charged, 
 jumped up on this running plank and then climbed over the 
 barrier into a place of safety. 
 
 When the black bull of Murcia charged into the ring 
 all the attendants of the "toreros" fled, but one man was a 
 little slow, and the bull caught him and dashed him up against 
 the barrier. The bull did not gore him, but four men carried 
 the unfortunate one out, inert and apparently lifeless. Then the 
 bull charged against the mounted picadores. He caught two 
 horses with his horns deep in their bellies and lifted the 
 
20 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 horses and their riders into the air. The third horse flinched, 
 and the bull cut him on the flank. This horse, a very pretty 
 gray, was taken out of the ring, but subsequently was brought 
 back to be gored by another bull. The "picadores" all got 
 bad falls, but none of them was gored. 
 
 By this time the bull was a bit tired, but still fierce and 
 full of fight. The crowd was shouting "Bravo, toro ! Bravo, 
 toro !" Then came the "banderillos." Two "espadas" of a 
 different "cuadrillo" teased the bull with their red "capotes," 
 and as the bull came at full charge the "banderillos" side- 
 stepped and stuck their two javelins, flying colored ribbons, 
 into the bull's shoulders. 
 
 When the two banderillos had each accomplished a 
 "doble" the crowd got excited. Then while other "espadas" 
 were teasing the bull with their cloaks, and the bull, in. wild 
 rage, was charging from one side of the arena to the other, 
 Porthe came forward, made his bow to the directors and the 
 alcade, asked permission to kill the bull, gave his hat to one 
 attendant, received his "escope" — sword — from another, and 
 the red "capote" — cloak, from a third, and went into the 
 arena to kill the bull. 
 
 Porthe was very handsome, tall, supple, agile and quick. 
 He smiled as he walked forward. He waved aside all the 
 other espadas, and for a few seconds the bull and he faced 
 each other. The bull was bloody, his eyes glared with blind 
 rage and for a few seconds he pawed the ground, and you 
 could hear his bellowings above the shouts, "Bravo, toro! 
 Bravo, Porthe," which came from the "aficionados." Then 
 Porthe walked forward, smiling serenely, made some move- 
 ments with the "capote," and the bull charged. Porthe deftly 
 threw the cloak, "capote," over the sword, "escope," side- 
 stepped to the left, holding the sword covered with the red 
 cloak to the right, and as the infuriated animal charged within 
 a few inches to the right of him he struck the bull's face with 
 his left hand as he passed him. The skill, grace and courage 
 
AT A BULL FIGHT 21 
 
 of the man almost atoned for the cruelty and barbarity of 
 the show. 
 
 Then Porthe, with his red cloak, excited the bull to 
 another charge. He waited without moving a foot until the 
 bull was almost upon him, the long sharp horns had almost 
 pierced him, and then, with a quick, fierce thrust, Porthe 
 buried the short sword forward of the bull's shoulder, so that 
 it pierced the heart. The bull staggered, sank on its knees, 
 then its hind legs seemed to crumple up under it, and after a 
 few convulsive movements it fell over dead. 
 
 Most of the matadores or "espadas" tease the bull when 
 he is dying. Porthe did not. A pair of gaily caparisoned 
 mules were harnessed to the dead bull. It and the butchered 
 horses were dragged out, sand was scattered over the bloody 
 places and a new and fresh bull was rushed into the arena. 
 
 There were six bulls killed that afternoon. Porthe killed 
 two, a young fellow, somewhat of a novice, butchered two, 
 and another matador, beautifully garbed in light blue, disposed 
 of two. 
 
 The last matador was a Mexican, a "moreno" or "brown 
 fellow," not very popular with the crowd at first, but he con- 
 quered their applause by the skillful way in which he 
 managed his capote and delivered his "escopada," or death stroke ; 
 and he certainly saved the lives of more than one of his comrades 
 by diverting the bull just as he was about to gore them. 
 
 A young "Madrileno" was most unfortunate. He had 
 bad bulls — "cobardes y malos" (cowards and bad ones) as a 
 Spanish friend described them. He certainly must have 
 wished himself out of the arena, for the crowd hissed him. 
 I don't think he was a bit afraid of the bulls, but they would 
 not charge, and it is not good form to kill the bulls except 
 on the charge. And then it was not pleasant to have about 
 35,000 voices yelling "cobarde." He got a bit rattled, but 
 Porthe and the Mexican helped him. He finally killed his 
 bull, but it was an altogether different thing from Porthe's 
 "estocada." 
 
22 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 I have endeavored to give my impressions accurately and 
 without comment. It is superfluous to use the adjectives 
 "cruel," "barbarous," "relic of the past" or to express pity 
 for the poor horses blindfolded and obedient, who were gored 
 by the infuriated bull, who had no quarrel with them. The 
 bull had no chance. He may have crippled one of his perse- 
 cutors, but he had to die in the end. But on the other hand, 
 to be a bullfighter a man must have wonderful nerves and 
 every muscle must be under control. A slip may be fatal, a 
 false step may cost a man his life. And then the ease and 
 grace of these men is admirable, and the beauty of their cos- 
 tumes makes a spectacle dear to the Spaniard. Two of the 
 party said they would go again to see Porthe, although they 
 felt sorry for the horses. The third determined that he would 
 never go again unless he happened to be in Seville, and then 
 he would drop in for a little while just to see if the fair Anda- 
 lusians really did wear lace veils and mantillas. 
 
THE GAYETY, CHARM AND FRIVOLITY OF 
 AIX-LES-BAINS 
 
 The spirit of this place is a gay spirit and the better part 
 of the cure is amusement, light and frivolous enough, to be 
 sure, but serving to distract the mind while the body is becom- 
 ing reinvigorated. One is not recommended to play golf 
 strenuously, nor to ride on horseback, as at the Hot Springs 
 of Virginia, and the strict regime of the German baths is not 
 pursued here. Devote your mornings to the cure and the 
 afternoons to "distractions," is the advice of physicians here 
 at Aix. Tobacco and alcohol are forbidden, as are all sorts 
 of vegetable roots, and — worse than all — bread and butter is 
 taboo, but the fruits are so abundant and delicious here, and 
 the cuisine so perfect, that you don't miss what you give up. 
 And as to the "distractions" the most violent exercise seems 
 to be "les petits chevaux," in which you toss away a few 
 francs, and "Les grandes courses de chevaux," in which, unless 
 you have a very winning way about you, you will manage to 
 lose a few louis in the Paris mutuels. 
 
 The race course here is beautifully situated about a mile 
 from the town. The view from the tribunes, or grandstands, 
 is lovely. But I don't think many are concerned about the 
 scenery who attend the races. The ladies are chiefly intent 
 on regarding the hats and frocks of the other feminines. The 
 men stroll about watching the horses in the paddock. 
 
 The bell rings and the horses come on the track, beau- 
 tiful animals with the pride of race and the courage of the 
 thoroughbred showing in their glistening skins, their clean 
 limbs and bright eyes. There were five races each day of the 
 races, with sometimes an added event. 
 
 The steeplechase and cross-country were the best to look 
 at. One day there were three races for army officers riding their 
 own horses, and each rider wore the uniform of his regiment, 
 whether it was that of the cuirassiers or dragoons. I picked out 
 
24 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 a chestnut ridden by a handsome young fellow in a light blue 
 uniform. 
 
 The chestnut took all the jumps well up to the last, but 
 that one he seemed to take ofif a little late and he stumbled as 
 he lighted. That gave a big brown one, who took his last 
 jump on even terms, a decided advantage and I thought it 
 was all over but the shouting. But the rider on the chestnut 
 gathered his horse, and with a grand final efifort he brought 
 his horse in a winner. 
 
 Down the stretch the rider on the chestnut horse assumed 
 the crouch seat of the American jockey, while the other was 
 riding with his weight balanced further back. 
 
 There has lately been much discussion in the papers 
 about the American seat ; a learned English judge condemned 
 it from the bench. It seems to me that you might as well 
 criticise a man for carrying a weight on his shoulders and 
 not on the small of his back. 
 
 An English friend of mine here, a captain in a crack 
 cavalry regiment, criticised the French riders, "It is awfully 
 bad form, you know." I said nothing, but I can tell any of 
 my readers who love to see a thoroughbred in action that these 
 young French officers would give an American rider a run 
 for his money. 
 
 The French are not so serious as the English about their 
 racing and the attending witnesses are very different from 
 the crowd that used to throng at Sheepshead Bay or Belmont. 
 
 The Queen of Madagascar was at the races one day with 
 the Princess Royal. So also was Prince Prajahipok, of Siam, 
 "Prince Jack Potts," as an American friend irreverently 
 called him. 
 
 The betting on these races is by Paris mutuels, the fairest 
 possible form of betting. The French government permits it 
 and regulates it. The amounts wagered are small — 10 francs, 
 or about $2, at one window, and at another 5 francs, or $1. 
 You can buy a "gagne" or "place" ticket — and, of course. 
 
 1 
 
THE GAYETY OF AIX-LES-BAINS 25 
 
 it pays according as the winner was a favorite or rank out- 
 sider. I saw one ticket cashed for 257 francs for which the 
 owner paid in 10 francs. Another paid 1 franc profit for 10 
 francs, enough for "deux blondes bocks." I know the man 
 who had this last ticket, and the beer tasted good, I can tell 
 you. It was won on a big grey mare in a cross-country race. 
 She looked good in the paddock, so my friend ventured 10 
 francs for place, not knowing she was the favorite. She ran 
 wide once, but finished a close second. 
 
 I do not know whether my impressions have given the 
 correct idea of Aix. Our ideas — Puritan, Quaker and Eng- 
 lish — are so fundamentally different from those of the Latins. 
 We are earnest and devoted to our business, whatever it may 
 be, and we worship success, but we seem to lack "la joie 
 de vivre." And in one characteristic we are totally unlike 
 the Latins, namely in our manners. I once asked a Castilian, 
 who was giving me lessons in Spanish, "What do you think 
 is the prevailing trait of Americans?" "Rudeness," answered 
 he. And certainly we are very abrupt. 
 
 In Italy, in Spain and in France you will always find a 
 charm of manner and a politeness that do not exist among 
 us. It is always "Bon jour, monsieur et madame" in the shops, 
 and on the street I never failed to get a very courteous 
 answer to my inquiries, while I verily believe that if I were 
 to stop a man on Broadway and ask him about Trinity 
 Church he would not answer me at all. Entre nous, I have 
 tried it. 
 
 But, on the other hand, if you are presented, socially, to 
 a lady or gentleman, you are at once tangled up in a mes'h of 
 "bon soirs" and "au revoirs," from which you in vain try to 
 extricate yourself. And this courtesy is not only to strangers. 
 When a chauffeur asks his way in France he gets a respon- 
 sive and adequate answer, and then it is always "Merci, 
 Monsieur," "Bon jour. Monsieur," from one to the other. 
 Young Americans pride themselves on their sense of humor, 
 
26 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 but they lack the politeness of the Latins. The English are 
 brutally frank. 
 
 Pierre Loti Avrites that the middle class Turks show 
 more deference from young persons to older ones than in 
 any other nation, and he instances that when a Turk enters 
 a cafe, where his son happens to be smoking a cigarette, the 
 3''Oung man gets up and extinguishes his cigarette that he 
 may not smoke in his father's presence. 
 
 I shall omit all other descriptions and shall tell you of 
 kings and queens I have met here. The first royalty I met socially 
 was King George of Greece. He was very affable and extremely 
 democratic. He used to visit the "salle de baccarat" quite 
 often and he went from table to table speaking courteously 
 to the men whom he knew, and commanding, that is politely 
 requesting, others to be brought up to him. The ladies used 
 to courtesy to him, but in no other way could you have told 
 him from any other gentleman. I never saw him play at the 
 tables, and I don't think he ever did. On one occasion a French 
 baron, who was a little lame, dropped his cane, and King George 
 stooped over and picked it up and restored it to him. All the 
 attendants at the establishment of the baths liked him very much. 
 He was assassinated not many months ago. He is mourned sin- 
 cerely here at Aix, where he had many friends. 
 
 We were presented to the Queen of Madagascar, and the 
 Crown Princess, and I was deputed to take her Majesty to the 
 tea table. She is not a reigning queen, for the French govern- 
 ment pays her 100,000 francs a year to do nothing. This is 
 not much in French money, but reduced to the shell currency 
 of Madagascar would, I suppose, make quite a sum. She is 
 a brunette, in fact quite shady ; she was born that way ; she 
 is very gracious and spoke very bad French, with a soft low 
 voice. She lives in the winter time at Algiers. She is small ; 
 the ladies said her jewels did not amount to much. I am told as 
 the climate is warm in Madagascar they don't wear much in the 
 way of costume except a girdle of feathers. Her French gown 
 was not wonderful. 
 
THE GAYETY OF AIX-LES-BAINS 27 
 
 Yesterday I was asked to meet the Prince Royal of Siam, 
 at Rumpelmayer's. There were six of us, for the Prince 
 is shy and did not wish a large party. Fraulein Rumpelmayer 
 had the table prettily decorated with cyclamens, the flower 
 of Aix. The Prince, who is about 18, and was educated at 
 Eton, is a jolly, pleasant little chap, with quite an American 
 sense of humor. I got off one or two jests which first saw 
 the light of day many years before he was born and he 
 laughed merrily. He had orangeade and lots of cakes. The 
 ladies had tea, and the captain, who is in attendance on the 
 Prince is what we in America would characterize as a thor- 
 oughbred, one who would face a bunch of American ban- 
 dits or a rapid fire battery with equal courage. I had 
 coffee, which was delicious. I offered the Prince an American 
 cigarette and in exchange he gave me a cigarette of Siamese 
 manufacture. This I smoked in some dread, for it was made 
 from very black and strong tobacco. I was afraid if I did not 
 smoke it the little Prince would be offended. The captain 
 said, "Throw away the nasty thing. Never mind the little 
 chap," but I puffed away and the Prince gave me another. 
 
 In France life seems gayer and more joyous than in 
 Italy or in Spain. The French work hard and are thrifty, but 
 there is a joy in life which other nations do not have. And, 
 of course, you know that the Savoyards are as brave, truthful 
 and honest as any race under the sun. The Counts of 
 Savoie, afterwards Dukes and Princes, and now the reigning 
 family of Italy, were all of them brave and good soldiers, from 
 Amadee, of the white hands, Count of Savoie, of the twelfth 
 century, down to Duke D'Abruzzi, whom I met some years 
 ago in Philadelphia, the dinner guest of my friend, Cavaliere 
 Baldi. They have all been brave and accomplished soldiers. 
 It was the campaigns of Prince Eugene of Savoie which 
 Napoleon Bonaparte studied so closely. The common people 
 are as good as the nobility. My valet de chambre served three 
 years in the Third Regiment of Zouaves in Algeria. 
 
28 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 You give a good many tips over here, but you get splendid 
 service in return. All over France you see good roads, pros- 
 perous people and hardly ever a beggar. In Spain and Italy 
 it was different. And everywhere are comfort and beauty. I 
 have journeyed through France a good deal — through Tou- 
 raine, with its historic chateaux; through the Cote d'Or of 
 Burgundy, through Normandy and Brittany, through the west 
 and the southwest, and have seen the great cities of Nantes, 
 La Rochelle, Brest, Bordeaux and many of the smaller towns. 
 You find good food and good wine, if you follow the commercial 
 travelers, everywhere, as well as clean beds and a polite welcome. 
 We are apt to judge France by Paris and Paris by its more 
 frivolous and external characteristics. This is a mistaken 
 view. 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF FLORENCE 
 
 I have thought it might be of interest to give you my 
 impressions of a mediaeval city which has had a great 
 influence upon the art and literature of the modern world. I 
 have selected Florence, or Firenze, because I paid my first 
 visit to it last summer, and because I think it is a type of the 
 Italian city of the Middle Ages and the Renascence, or 
 Renaissance, that is, the rebirth of classical art and literature, 
 which bloomed into the most perfect flower in Florence. The 
 name Florence, or Firenze, is, the flower, and the emblem 
 of Florence is the lily ; first the white lily on a red ground and 
 afterwards the red lily on a white ground. 
 
 My first visit to Florence was on the third of July, 1913. 
 We left Rome about 12 o'clock and traveled by rail through 
 a beautiful and interesting country. We reached Florence 
 about five. I confess that when I came to a branch road that 
 led to Assisi I was strongly tempted to go see the city of St. 
 Francis, and a little later, at the junction for Rimini, I was 
 seized with a desire to stop at the home of the unfortunate 
 Francesca. But I had not time to visit the abode of either 
 saint or sinner. 
 
 A persistent picture of Florence, the beautiful city on 
 the Arno, which its inhabitants have called "Beata Civita," dwells 
 in my recollection. I also vividly recall the Arno flowing down 
 under the Ponte Trinita, the Ponte Vecchio, and the beautiful pink 
 dome of the Duomo, higher than the dome of St. Peter's, with the 
 exquisite Campanile alongside stretching aloft into the air. 
 Although the days were hot, the evenings and the early hours of 
 the night were such as one can only see in Italian pictures and 
 experience in Italy. The translucent atmosphere without a trace 
 of cloud, the blue sky, deepening after sunset until it became 
 almost an indigo color, and the stars shining with sparkling 
 brilliancy, enabled me to realize the inspiration of the great 
 artists of Florence. 
 
30 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 After dinner we went to the Cafe Gambrinus in an open 
 square called the Piazza Vittore Emanuele. A band there 
 played "Dixie," and was applauded vigorously. Then it 
 played "Tripoli" and "Roma." As in all Italian cities, the 
 evening life at the cafes was very gay. 
 
 One morning I started out for a walk, lost my way, 
 inquired in my best Italian, and was answered in French. 
 Quite unexpectedly I chanced upon the Baptistry, with its 
 bronze doors, which Ghirardi designed and wrought, and 
 which Michael Angelo said should have been the gates of 
 Paradise. The same day I visited the Uffizi and Pitti Gal- 
 leries. I cannot express the admiration and wonder I felt 
 in Florence at being amid so many works of art. I tried to 
 confine my attention to the marvelous work of Raphael, but 
 other beautiful paintings forced themselves on my attention. 
 The paintings of Credi impressed me. His flesh tints and 
 atmosphere seem to me to be the precursors of modern art. 
 
 When I recall Florence, the work of Delia Robbia, of 
 Donatello and Benevenuto Cellini's mask of Cosmo di Medici 
 and his small Perseus in wax, and Donatello's David in 
 bronze at the Bargello are put upon my mental screen by my 
 imagination. 
 
 But why try to pick out a few among the many? Michael 
 Angelo's colossal David and wall panels of Andrea del Sarto, 
 painted when he was a patient in the hospital, now a picture 
 gallery, are compelling also. 
 
 After this feast of form and color, a drive in the 
 Cascine in the cool of the evening was refreshing and an 
 impression was made upon me that truly life is short, but the 
 joy of life is keen. 
 
 In this brief sketch it is impossible to give the names of 
 many of those who have made Florence famous. In one 
 church, "Santa Croce," are buried Michael Angelo, Machia- 
 velli, Galileo, Rossini, Cherubini and Alfieri, men whose 
 genius has made them immortals. 
 
 1 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF FLORENCE 31 
 
 Dante, the author of the Commedia — called after his 
 death Divina Commedia — was christened, as all Florentines 
 were and are to this day, in the Baptistry, in 1265. He was 
 banished from Florence in 1301, and although he did not die 
 until 1321 he never saw his beloved Florence again. The 
 cause of his banishment was a charge that as prior he had 
 been guilty of malversation of funds ; really he was banished 
 because the political party to which he belonged had been 
 vanquished by their opponents. At that time Florence was 
 divided into two parties or hostile factions called the Bianci, 
 or Whites, and the Neri, or Blacks. They were both factions 
 of the Guelphs. The quarrel between the Guelphs and the 
 Ghibellines was a source of endless war and bloodshed in the 
 mediaeval history of Florence. The tradition is that Dante, 
 when only nine years old, saw for the first time Beatrice, 
 who was then about seven ; that from that time he worship- 
 ped her, and that when she was fourteen and he was sixteen, 
 meeting her in one of the streets of Florence, she spoke to 
 him with so much sweetness and courtesy that she became 
 the idol of his soul. And it is said that she died when but 
 23. Others say that Beatrice was simply a creation of the 
 imagination of Dante. Dante did not marry Beatrice, but 
 married another. His wife's uncle was of the opposite fac- 
 tion in politics and one of those who drove Dante into exile. 
 When he left Florence he left his wife and children behind 
 him, and he never saw his wife again. 
 
 Soon after the death of Dante, Florence began to appre- 
 ciate his greatness, and professorships were instituted for the 
 study of his works. The first critic of Dante was Giovanni 
 Boccaccio. He was born eight years before Dante died, and 
 probably next to Dante himself is the most famous of Floren- 
 tine writers. The greatest modern Italian commentator 
 upon Dante is Croce. 
 
 The third great name in Italian literature is Machiavelli. 
 His "Prince" is a course of instruction to kings and rulers. 
 His philosophy is cold-blooded, and he counsels treachery 
 
32 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 and deceit ; but Machiavelli was a man of high character, good 
 conduct and charming personality. 
 
 Among the painters Raphael Sanzio was the greatest ; 
 but into whatever gallery or church you go in Florence you 
 will marvel at the skill of the painters. 
 
 Among the sculptors the greatest was Michael Angelo, 
 that all-round genius, who was architect, sculptor and painter. 
 His most famous work, "David," which used to stand in 
 the Signoria, has been taken into the Academia. The statues 
 of "Night" and "Dawn," in the Church of San Lorenzo, are 
 conspicuous examples of his art. 
 
 Delia Robbia seems to me to appeal to our humanity, and his 
 sculptures of the choir boys are life-like. 
 
 Of the workers in bronze, there are Ghirardi, who 
 wrought the bronze doors of the Baptistry, which Michael 
 Angelo said should have been the gates to Paradise, and 
 Benvenuto Cellini, w^hose Perseus Slaying the Gorgon, in 
 bronze, still stands in the D'Lanzia. 
 
 A word or two about Benevenuto Cellini. He has left 
 an autobiography which has been translated into English. He 
 was a mediaeval Florentine. He was a goldsmith, and he had, 
 in addition to a finished training in his craft, the business 
 instinct. He was a man of the world, fond of life and of 
 pleasure. He traveled widely, visited France, and went to 
 Rome ; there he got into trouble and into prison. He speaks 
 of this with more pride than regret in his autobiography. 
 When he came back to Florence in middle life he aspired 
 to something greater than making jeweled cups for cardinals 
 and gold boxes for tyrants. He put all his money and all his 
 time and all his talent into the statue in bronze of Perseus. 
 The wax model, which is in the Bargello, is the most beautiful 
 creation I have ever seen, and although Michael Angelo and 
 Raphael were doubtless greater than he, yet Benvenuto 
 Cellini, known to us by his own account of his own doings, 
 seems more real. His statue stands today at the Ponte 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF FLORENCE 33 
 
 Vecchio, where his goldsmith shop stood. And the "old 
 bridge" still has jewelers' shops on it, and you can see the 
 craftsmen working perhaps with as much zeal as they showed 
 in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Some historians 
 contend that Donatello or Michael Angelo should have had 
 this place of honor on the Ponte Vecchio for their statues, but 
 a more representative man of his time and city never lived 
 than Benvenuto Cellini. 
 
 Pages of description fail to convey an accurate idea of 
 Florence, and even pictures thrown upon a screen are not 
 like the reality. I have endeavored to give you some faint 
 idea of what Florence was and what it is today. If you desire 
 to learn more about the history of Florence and the free cities 
 of Italy, I recommend you to Sismondi's History of the 
 Middle Ages ; if you want a particular account of detail of 
 Florence, get from the library Edward Hutten's book on 
 "Florence and Northern Tuscany," also a more recent book, 
 Lucas's "Wanderer in Florence." These books, though some- 
 what desultory, give charming pictures of Florence and its 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Anatole France's "Red Lily," and di Amicis's account of 
 Florence in "Gli Tre Capitale" are excellent. 
 
 The following lines were written in his note-book by one 
 who caught but a glimpse of Florence, but has admired her 
 ever since : 
 
 blessed Florence — proud city of the flowers, 
 Cruel and fickle now as then, 
 
 1 hate to leave thy churches, streets and towers. 
 Farewell — Before I die I long to see thee once again. 
 
STUDYING SPANISH TO READ DON QUIXOTE 
 
 I was past fifty-five when I began the study of the Spanish 
 language in order to read Don Quixote in the original. I 
 had just read an old Little & Brown edition of 1854 of the 
 adventures of the illustrious knight, with a life of Cervantes by 
 John G. Lockhart and a translation by Lockhart of Cervantes's 
 foreword to the first part of Don Quixote. The translation 
 of Don Quixote is by Motteux. Lockhart has Englished the 
 introduction to Don Quixote very well, but not sufficiently 
 well, to adopt the Spanish idiom — it is not literal enough. His 
 Spanish ballads are better. 
 
 The translation of Don Quixote by Motteux is stilted. 
 It makes you think of "Pamela" or "Clarissa Harlowe" or the 
 "Mysteries of Udolpho," books I read to please my dear father, 
 who adored them and regretted that I fancied such modern 
 fads as Roderick Random, Tom Jones and Tristram Shandy. 
 I laid aside Motteux's translation, determined to read what 
 Cervantes had written in his own Castilian tongue. As a 
 boy I had sprawled on the floor in my father's library with 
 a huge illustrated volume of Don Quixote, and I knew the 
 stor>' of the windmills and of the adventures at the inn, and 
 of how the Books of Romance were burned, and of Dulcinea 
 and Sancho Panza, and of Don Quixote de la Mancha. 
 
 What did I care then whether the translation was good 
 or bad. Neither was I concerned about style or humor. My 
 point of view was different at fifty-five. I thought, "I shall 
 find out why Don Quixote is, as it has been called, the best novel 
 in the world beyond all comparison." 
 
 I cannot tell why an original is better than a translation. 
 The only translation which, in my opinion, is better than the 
 original is Dryden's from Horace, beginning "Happy the man 
 and happy he alone." This last is, however, like Liszt's 
 variation upon Gluck — an elaboration of the theme. When a 
 woman has wit and charm can we define those terms? Just 
 
STUDYING SPANISH 35 
 
 as evanescent are the words "humor" and "style" when 
 applied to an author. 
 
 But it was worth my while to study Spanish to feel in 
 physical touch with Miguel Cervantes. "How long will it take 
 me to learn Spanish?" I said to my Castilian teacher. "Three 
 years, but you will soon forget it," he answered. I studied 
 hard with my teacher for three years four times a week from 
 four-thirty to six-thirty. At the end of three years I could 
 read prose and could talk fairly fluently. I dare say I have 
 forgotten most of it, but if hereafter I meet Don Miguel 
 Cervantes in the land east of the sun and west of the moon 
 I shall be able to say to him, "Como esta Usted, Senor Don 
 Miguel?" ("How are you, Senor Don Miguel") And he will 
 say, "Muy bien, Senor Don Carlos/' ("Very well, Senor Don 
 Carlos,") And my retort courteous will be "Y Usted?" (And 
 you?") And his farewell may come "Hasta otra yista, si 
 Dios quiere; adios." ("Good bye, until we meet again, if God 
 wills it.") 
 
 Spanish Castellano is spoken by more so-called civilized 
 human beings than any other language except English. It 
 has a particular interest for us Americans at this time. It is 
 rich in synonyms, copious and full. It is spoken trippingly 
 on the tongue. Every syllable has its weight, but it has not 
 accent like the French or stress like the English. Its 
 grammatical construction is not hopelessly bewildering like 
 the German, nor is it a pure language, as is the Swedish. It 
 was begotten of the Latin of the camp, and descended with 
 Vandal, Goth and Moorish additions. It is not very difficult 
 to read Spanish prose, but to converse in it — that is a horse 
 of a diiiferent color. And most of the Spanish poetry I have 
 studied is about as difficult to understand as Robert Brown- 
 ing or George Meredith. 
 
 Cervantes never really caught the public ear, although 
 
36 REMIXISCEXCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 he wrote poetrj', romances, dramas and satires, until he was 
 nearly sixty years old. Perhaps he was not properly adver- 
 tised. Then he published the first part of Don Quixote, and 
 he took the literan.' world of Spain by storm. A few years 
 afterward he wrote the second part. 
 
 Cervantes died on the same day as William Shakespeare. 
 The character creations of Shakespeare are numerous and 
 varied. Only two characters of Cervantes are alive today, 
 Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Those children of the under- 
 standing, as Cervantes called them, are his real descendants. 
 Shakespeare's brood is known wherever English is spoken. 
 Cervantes's two types are familiar where Spanish is the idiom. 
 English is the most widely spoken of civilized tongues, but 
 Spanish is second, and wherever Castilian Spanish is heard 
 people glory in Don Quixote and laugh at Sancho Panza. 
 
 The impression we get from all Cervantes's biographers 
 is that he earned hardly enough from his writings to keep 
 body and soul together ; but he was fortunate to have married 
 well, and while his wife lived, her common sense and the little 
 money and goods she was possessed of, seem to have made 
 them comfortable enough in a time and in a land where 
 frugalit}- was considered a virtue. Later, when he did get 
 some employment from the crown in the way of assistant col- 
 lector of taxes, or some such political job, he lived at \"alla- 
 dolid. Toledo and other cities, dividing his time between 
 politics and literature. He was in prison more than once, 
 but that was not an unusual thing in those days for a man 
 who was in politics and short of money. He had the com- 
 panionship and friendship of some of Spain's most noted 
 writers, and it was a period in Spain, as in England, of great 
 literary activity. 
 
 Cervantes's end was most pathetic. Probably if he had 
 lived in these modern times he would have been hustled off 
 
STUDYING SPANISH 37 
 
 to Jefferson Hospital or to the University of Pennsylvania 
 Hospital or to some other equally good institution. But 
 surgery was a barber's trade in the Spain of the early seven- 
 teenth century, and Cervantes died at about the age of 
 sixty-five. 
 
 The deathlessness of his spirit has placed him amid the 
 immortals. The wit and humor of his writings remain for us. 
 No writer in Spain has surpassed him in popularity, and Don 
 Quixote has been translated into very many tongues and read 
 the world over. 
 
CATULLUS, GRACEFUL POET OF OLD ROME 
 
 Spending a half holiday in the Philadelphia Library, I 
 came across an old friend, C. Valerius Catullus. The beauties 
 of this Roman poet have long been a delight and a comfort 
 to me. At this time, however, one thing particularly attracted my 
 attention. I found in the twenty-ninth Carmen (Song) a 
 new interest in a fanciful connection with the late European war. 
 The twenty-ninth Carmen is addressed to C. Julius Caesar and 
 begins: "Quis haec videt?" "Who can see this, who can suffer 
 it, that one of the Kaiser's generals should have all the good 
 things the Gauls and the faraway Britons used to have? You 
 are Emperor, but you are shameless, a devourer and a 
 gamester. You have already spent two or three hundred 
 millions!" * * * 
 
 "Are you afraid of him, Gauls and Britons? Bad luck 
 to him," etc. 
 
 Catullus, as I have said, is an old friend. He was not 
 among the old Romans to whom I was introduced at college. 
 We met later in a somewhat unusual way. When I was 
 studying law my preceptor insisted that I go over and search 
 for old deeds. I went, but I hated the old Recorder of Deeds' 
 office down on Chestnut street so much that after I was 
 admitted to the bar I always walked on the other side of the 
 street. Sometimes I played truant from the Recorder of 
 Deeds' office and from Fearne on ^"Contingent Remainders" 
 (too much like mathematics) and Sugden's "Letters to a 
 Young Man of Property," which did not interest me much 
 either, as all my personal property consisted of a few uncol- 
 lectible due bills remaining from my last game of draw, which 
 was highly popular among law students in the early seventies, 
 and my real estate was nil. Indeed I was more like an 
 executory devise than a contingent remainder, for I had no 
 particular estate to support me. 
 
 When I thus deserted my law books I spent my time at 
 the old Philadelphia Library, at Fifth and Sansom streets, and 
 
CATULLUS, GRACEFUL POET OF OLD ROME 39 
 
 in a quiet corner I met Catullus. This is what he seemed 
 like to me: A young man not much over twenty-two, very 
 handsome, wearing a "toga virilis" gracefully flung over his 
 shoulder, with arms bare, hatless and with sandals on his 
 feet. In his hand he had a scroll of parchment, rubbed 
 smooth with pumice stone, and he showed me his verses writ- 
 ten in this little book. No lyrics, I think, have ever sur- 
 passed them. In the songs he showed me he told of his love 
 for Clodia, the wife of Metellus. Haughty and proud, through 
 her Claudian blood, she nevertheless tossed all conventions 
 to the winds and had many lovers. Though five years older 
 than Catullus he worshipped at her shrine until, tiring of him, 
 she forsook him. 
 
 I can't reproduce these exquisite bits of songs without 
 music; the song of "Passer deliciae meae puellae" ("Sparrow 
 the darling of my little girl") and many of the "Carmina" are 
 gems like intaglios, engraved, but translucent. In my younger 
 days during many a long summer holiday, when business was 
 dull, I endeavored fruitlessly to produce effective translations. 
 These I destroyed when work got brisk again and clients 
 came. 
 
 The "Passer deliciae" — "Sparrow darling of my little 
 girl" — (I don't believe the "passer" of this poem was an Eng- 
 lish sparrow, but probably a soft and musical Italian spar- 
 row) — is one of the most famous of Catullus's poems. In 
 another song, composed upon the death of his mistress' pet 
 bird, occur the following lines: "When my little darling's 
 bird shall have taken the journey to the dark shades of 
 Oreus, from which they say no traveler has ever returned." 
 They remind one of Shakespeare's "the undiscovered country 
 from whose bourne no traveler returns," in Hamlet's 
 soliloquy. Did William Shakespeare ever read Catullus' lines 
 or did the same thought occur independently to each other? * 
 
 * I did not know when I wrote this of any previous allusion to 
 this resemblance of expression. Later I found the following note in 
 the Variorum Edition of Hamlet by Horace Howard Furness: 
 
40 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 And so I communed with Catullus and with many other 
 kindred spirits in the dear old library. The earlier "Carmina" 
 of Catullus are songs of a lover — passionate; they are of the 
 flesh, not of the spirit. After his desertion by Clodia, Catullus 
 made a voyage to Greece. When he came back he wrote 
 more seriously and for fame and posterity, his poem describ- 
 ing the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, and the wedding song. 
 
 "Hymen-Hymenio" should have been set to music by the 
 composer of the wedding march in Lohengrin — a foolish and 
 anachronistic fancy, you may say, but Wagner is the musician 
 who could have given the words of Catullus the truest inter- 
 pretation in music, as Mendelssohn composed the music for 
 the "Midsummer Night's Dream" of William Shakespeare. 
 The poem I like best of the latter period is "Sirmio insularum," 
 etc. (Carmina xxxi) "What is more blessed than cares dis- 
 missed when the mind lays down all its burdens, and, weary 
 with foreign toil, we come to our home and rest in the 
 longed-for bed. Hail, beautiful Sirmio, and rejoice in thy 
 master. Rejoice, too, ye waves of the Lydian lake ! Peal out 
 every laugh that is in my home !" 
 
 Charles Lamb, Moore and Leigh Hunt have endeavored 
 to put this and other poems of Catullus into English rhyme. 
 I personally prefer a prose translation. The invocation to 
 his little island with its simple cottage, where Catullus made 
 his summer home after his wanderings through Greece, has 
 an appeal to me, like Kipling's "The Red Gods Call and I 
 Must Go." Anyone who loves the woods and waters and 
 knows the haunts "where the oiananiche are waiting and the 
 sea trout's jumping crazy for the fly," knows what Kipling 
 means. And one who has a little island home far from the 
 madding crowd senses Catullus's thought when he says, 
 
 "The undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns." 
 Stevens, and Douce, both commentators on Shakespeare, compare this line 
 of Catullus with the line in Hamlet's soliloquy. Douce saj's no transla- 
 tion of Catullus is known to have been made. C. B. McAI. 
 
 I 
 
CATULLUS, GRACEFUL POET OF OLD ROME 41 
 
 "Laugh and rejoice, little cottage, your master has come." 
 Nearly 2000 years separate Catullus and Kipling and there 
 are 1900 years between Catullus and Shelley. But they of all 
 poets have known best how to express in lyric form the love for 
 nature. To these were given by the gods the gift of expression. 
 
 The metrical form of Catullus's verse is not so intricate 
 as that of Horace, nor was the Latin tongue so wonderfully 
 moulded into form by him as by Virgil. But Horace said 
 in vain : 
 
 "If you class me with the lyric poets 
 I shall strike the sky with my head." 
 
 Horace was a metrist, a satirist and a philosopher, but 
 not a poet of the heart — not a true lyrist, as was Catullus. 
 Virgil, exquisite as are the "Eclogues," perfect as are the 
 "Georgics" — noble, religious and sonorous as is the "Aeneid," 
 neither of these great Roman poets who came into the world 
 a little later than he, have in music and melody excelled the 
 lyrics of Catullus. 
 
 He died young — some say at forty, others guess at 
 seventy-one — but young in spirit — still vital, although he died 
 2000 years ago. Though always a good friend of mine, I 
 never knew him quite as well after I put aside all literary 
 dalliance for the practice of law, but I never lost his fel- 
 lowship. 
 
 Catullus was born in Verona, and Sirmio was not far 
 away on Lake Garda, but exactly where is not known ; a 
 peninsula on the eastern side of the lake is probably the spot. 
 
 Catullus seems to be reincarnated in Giovanni Boccaccio, 
 who in his sojourn in Naples fell in love with the natural 
 daughter of the King, and whose subsequent literary career 
 resembles in its incidents and their influence on his poetic 
 work the life of Catullus. And Gabriel D'Annunzio, of our 
 own day, whose life and love and literary work constitute 
 so large a part of modern Italian literature, seems to me very 
 like Catullus. 
 
TERENCE 
 
 Not long ago I spent a very pleasant evening at the 
 Little Theatre on De Lancey street, watching the presentation 
 of two modern plays, given under the management of the 
 Plays and Players Club. One of these plays was by Lord 
 Dunsany, the other by Mr. Barrie, 
 
 They were well staged and cleverly acted ; by amateurs, 
 it is true, but amateurs interested in the dramatic art for 
 art's sake. Lord Dunsany's play is wildly imaginative. Mr. 
 Barrie's is delightfully sentimental. Each of them seems 
 to me to be founded on the author's fancy. Neither Dunsany 
 nor Barrie observed any real people like the dramatis per- 
 sonae of either play. The characters in Lord Dunsany's play 
 are not a bit like real people ; nor are the fairies and pirates 
 of Peter Pan ; and although I yield to none in my admiration 
 of Peter Pan, and I think the Green Gods a wonderful work of 
 imagination, if you will read "Heauton Timoroumenos" of 
 the Roman poet Terence in the original or in Bohn's transla- 
 tion, and then read the Green Gods and Peter Pan, you will 
 say that Terence is more natural and that his characters are 
 more like real men and women than those in either of these 
 modern plays. And Terence wrote his plays more than 2000 
 years ago. None of the plays of Terence is suitable to the 
 modern stage. It may interest some of the theatregoing public 
 to hear something about Terence and to compare his work with 
 the up-to-date modern dramatists ; "hinc illae literae." For, not- 
 withstanding the conventional plots and characters of Terence, 
 his plays have stood the test of two thousand years, because the 
 dialogue is human, the passion is human and the wit is human. 
 Will any of Lord Dunsany's, which are the most purely 
 imaginative of modern plays, be read even as a literary curiosity 
 in 2115? Barrie stands a better chance, so inimitable is his 
 style and so delicate his sentiment. 
 
 One reason why this old Roman poet "dead and turned 
 to clay" for twenty centuries, is of special interest now, is 
 
TERENCE 43 
 
 that the theatre is undergoing trials similar to trials which 
 beset the drama in those distant times. The indifference of 
 the public today to true dramatic art is not unlike that of 
 Rome in the latter years of the republic. Politics and shows 
 interested everybody two thousand years ago. "Panem et 
 Circenses" in their popular appeal were means to political 
 success. The amount expended by a politician in Rome on 
 gladiatorial and other games would startle a modern campaign 
 committee. The proletariat liked the excitement of the circus 
 and "bread and circus exhibitions" were provided for the 
 voters by the political leaders. Politics is of as vital interest 
 today as in the time of Scipio, Marius or J. Caesar, and the 
 movies of our day appeal to the crowd much as the "Cir- 
 cuses" did in Rome, and there may be something in a sug- 
 gestion I have heard that they may become a force in politics. 
 They afford entertainment for an idle hour. They have come 
 to stay. Will the play of action and speech disappear in 
 competition? Who knows? 
 
 There was no printing in ancient Rome, and although 
 books were published after being carefully edited, they were 
 acquired by only a few at very great expense. The stage was 
 a means by which imaginary representations of life were 
 visibly presented to the public. Plautus and before him, 
 Ennius, had delighted Roman audiences, but the plays of 
 Terence, artificially constructed, following closely Greek 
 models, never had a strong hold on the Roman populace. 
 The poets and the dramatists in the latter period of the 
 Roman republic were appreciated only by a select few ; the 
 actor found it impossible to compete with the gladiator. It 
 had been different at Athens, where the tragedies of Aeschy- 
 lus, Sophocles and Euripides and the comedies of Aristophanes 
 were a part of the daily life of the Athenian demos. But the 
 Romans were too busy conquering the world to care for art 
 for art's sake. 
 
 It was to a select class that Terence appealed. There 
 are, however, here and there scattered through his plays bits 
 
44 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 of homely wisdom which show that although a friend of 
 patricians, he knew well the life of the common people. His 
 power of imagination, his close observation and his gift of 
 expression entitle him to be classed among the great 
 dramatists. 
 
 The period of the Roman republic after the second Punic 
 war was one of great intellectual activity among the patri- 
 cians. The ruling class of Rome, consisting of the great 
 aristocratic or patrician families, prided -themselves upon 
 their literary attainments. They studied the philosophy and 
 poetry of the Hellenes and the dramatists of Greece, both 
 tragic and comic. The playwrights of Rome closely imitated 
 the Greek comic playwriters. Terence belonged to one of the 
 ultra-fashionable cliques in Rome. He had been brought as 
 a young boy from Africa by Scipio Africanus. The great 
 general and statesman was a patron of art and letters. Another 
 tradition is that he was the slave of Publius Terentius, that 
 Afer, or African, was added to denote his birthplace. It is 
 pretty certain that Terence became a freedman, that he wrote 
 several of his plays when very young and that he was a great 
 favorite in patrician circles. 
 
 Terence's comedies are modeled after the Greek in the 
 conventional characters, plot and dialogue. They are hardly 
 as accurate pictures of the real life of urban or suburban 
 Italy as the older "farces," to use a modern word, of Ennius 
 or Plautus. "Father Ennius," used as a school book in all 
 Roman schools, and Plautus seem to have had real and vital 
 existence upon the stage, and to have been the early pro- 
 genitors of that Comedia d'Arte which later produced the 
 Harlequin, Columbine and Pantaloon at the country fairs and 
 festivals of Italy. 
 
 But Terence, although he was in vogue among the 
 patricians, does not seem to have appealed very strongly to 
 plebeian or popular taste. The people of Rome in his day 
 preferred the circus to the theatre ; a whisper circulating around 
 the audience that there would be gladiators at the circus, would 
 
 i 
 
TERENCE 45 
 
 have emptied the playhouse. Matters do not seem to have 
 changed much at Rome, for when I was there several years ago, 
 the "Palome," or the ball games, were all attended by a noisy 
 crowd, who bet on every stroke, but no theatres, except cinema 
 equivalent to our movies, were open. There was not a theatre 
 in Rome at which comedies or tragedies were being presented 
 while I was there. There were, however, many movies, and good 
 ones, too. 
 
 A saying which has lived for 2000 years must be of 
 extraordinary vitality. Such are the famous words, "Homo 
 sum, nihil a me alienum puto," "I am a man and everything 
 human interests me." That speech occurs in "Heauton 
 Timoroumenos," which Terence wrote about 160 B. C, and 
 it has been a favorite quotation ever since. Literary gems 
 abound in Terence's plays. 
 
 Personal gossip about our friends is considered all right 
 if friendly, and I have classed Terence among my friends for 
 a good many years ; therefore I may be forgiven some per- 
 sonal allusions to my early acquaintance with him. I first 
 met Terence in the classrooms of Harvard College. Professor 
 Lane introduced me. When called on to read a few lines from 
 a play of my new acquaintance I gave an impromptu and 
 decidedly original translation of one of Terence's lines. 
 "Good," said dear old "Jimmy" Lane (than whom no greater 
 Latin scholar ever held a professorship in Harvard College) ; 
 "I am glad you don't use an interlinear, even if you have not 
 bothered with the Latin dictionary." 
 
 Although interesting, the play "Heauton Timoroumenos" 
 has not an interesting plot. To write a summary of a comedy 
 is a hopeless task; all action and dialogue gone, the skeleton 
 may rattle its bones, but won't make us laugh. 
 
 A severe father compels his son, Clinia, in love with 
 Antiphila, to go abroad to the wars, and, repenting of what 
 he has done, torments himself with regrets. The son returns 
 unknown to his father and is entertained in the house of 
 Clitipho. The latter is in love with Bacchis, a wanton. When 
 
46 REMINISCENCES AND ESSAYS 
 
 Clinia sends for his much-loved Antiphila, Bacchis comes 
 with Antiphila, who wears the costume of her servant. 
 Clitipho, through the aid of Lysus, his slave, has wheedled 
 money out of his father, Chremes, for Bacchis. Antiphila is 
 discovered to be the sister of Clitipho. Clinia welcomes her. 
 The self-tormentor consents to the match, and Clitipho is 
 married, to keep him out of Bacchis's clutches. How dull that 
 plot seems. But after all the plot and the characters were 
 entirely conventional. It was the dialogue and the action 
 which made the play go. Chremes, the old man, is the best 
 part. He is shrewd, inquisitive and meddlesome. By him 
 the lines "Homo sum," etc., are spoken in answer to the self- 
 tormentor as an excuse for his meddling in the second old 
 man's business. And it is reported that Chremes's lines were 
 always greeted with loud applause when he spoke them. 
 That indicates that even the populace is captivated by any- 
 thing of human interest. Bacchis has some good lines, too. 
 She is quite like the modern French type, as shown in Daudet's 
 "Sappho" and Zola's "Nana," but better educated than these, 
 although equally fond of dress and just as mercenary. 
 
 The prologue was spoken by Turpio in the part of 
 Chremes. This was a departure from the Roman stage tradi- 
 tion that the prologue should be spoken by an actor who took 
 a young man's part. 
 
 The stage was set as a long street, with two houses on 
 one side, and one on the other side. The time was the after- 
 noon. The action was in the open air. I have never read 
 any clear explanation of the musical accompaniment. Per- 
 haps it was like the modern Spanish Zarzuela — spoken dia- 
 logue with musical interlude. 
 
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