CHAPTER	XXV.
	Yet	this	inconstancy	is	such
	As	thou	too	shalt	adore	;
	I	could	not	love	thee,	love,	so	much,
	Loved	I	not	honour	more
	LOVELACE.
	WHEN	King	Kichard	returned	to	his	tent,	he	com-
	manded	the	Nubian	to	be	brought	before	him.
	He	entered	with	his	usual	ceremonial	reverence,
	and,	having	prostrated	himself,	remained	standing
	before	the	King,	in	the	attitude	of	a	slave	awaiting
	the	orders	of	his	master.	It	was	perhaps	well	for
	him	that	the	preservation	of	his	character	required
	his	eyes	to	be	fixed	on	the	ground,	since	the	keen
	glance	with	which	Richard	for	some	time	surveyed
	him	in	silence	would,	if	fully	encountered,	have
	been	difficult	to	sustain.
	"	Thou	canst	well	of	wood-craft,"	said	the	King,
	after	a	pause,	"and	hast	started	thy	game	and
	brought	him	to	bay	as	ably	as	if	Tristrem	himself
	had	taught	thee.	1	But	this	is	not	all	:	he	must	be
	brought	down	at	force.	I	myself	would	have	liked
	to	have	levelled	my	hunting-spear	at	him.	There
	are,	it	seems,	respects	which	prevent	this.	Thou
	art	about	to	return	to	the	camp	of	the	Soldan,
	1	A	universal	tradition,	ascribed	to	Sir	Tristrem,	famous	for	his
	love	of	the	fair	Queen	Yseult.	The	laws	concerning	the	practice
	of	wood-craft,	or	venerie,	as	it	was	called,	being	those	that	related
	to	the	rules	of	the	chase,	were	deemed	of	much	consequence	during
	the	middle	ages.


366	ftalfcs	in	a	library
	Beckett	and	Samuel	Phelps,	at	the	lower	end	of	one	of
	two	long	tables,	far	away	from	the	raised	platform	upon
	which	the	guests	of	honour	were	placed.	I	remember
	that	it	was	at	the	time	of	an	unsuccessful	movement
	to	erect	a	monument	to	L,ord	Byron	in	Westminster
	Abbey,	and	that	the	members	of	the	Savage	Club	had
	subscribed	largely	for	the	testimonial,	and	were	greatly
	chagrined	at	the	opposition	raised	in	influential
	quarters.	I	remember	that	the	Prince	of	Wales	was	to
	have	presided	at	the	feast,	but	was	absent,	and	I	re
	member	wondering	afterwards	what	would	have	hap
	pened	if	he	had	been	in	the	chair.	I	don't	remember
	who	did	preside,	but	I	remember	that	the	several
	speakers	alluded	to	the	Byron	matter,	and	very	bitterly.
	And	I	remember	when	Lowell	arose	to	speak	that
	those	of	us	who	were	not	near	enough	to	catch	his
	words	crowded	forward	to	the	dais	in	order	to	miss
	nothing	of	his	wonderful	eloquence.	And	I	remember
	with	absolute	distinctness	that	this,	in	part,	is	what	he
	said,	clearly,	solemnly,	and	most	impressively:	"	The
	Dean	and	Chapter	of	your	great	Abbey	of	Westminster
	have	refused	a	resting-place	to	the	pedestal	of	a	statue
	of	one	of	the	greatest	of	your	poets,	in	the	ground
	which	is	polluted	by	the	rotten	ashes	of	the	mistresses
	of	your	kings	!	"	I	remember	perfectly	the	effect	of
	these	words,	the	profound	silence	which	followed,	the
	catching	of	breaths,	the	looks	of	astonishment,	and
	then	the	sudden	outburst	of	enthusiasm	and	wild
	cheering.


2I2	CHAPTER	XX.
	seriously	to	pay	some	deference	to	the	advice	of	one	of	the	most	learned	prelates	of	our	church.
	I	represented	to	him	with	some	earnestness	how	ill	it	became	a	person	of	his	age
	to	be	so	positive	as	I	had	always	found	him,	especially	since	he	had	spent	so	much	of	his	time
	in	mathematical	studies,	and	therefore	could	not	have	sufficiently	applied	himself	to	the	study
	of	antiquity."	"	Indeed,	as	I	learned	from	one	of	his	friends,	he	had	never	read	Dallneus	s
	book	De	Pseudepigraphis	Apostoiicis,	where	that	learned	man	had	demonstrated	the	Book	of
	t/ic	Apostolical	Constitutions	to	be	spurious	;	but,	according	to	Mr	Whiston,	that	book	is	the
	most	"canonical	book	of	the	whole	New	Testament,	because	all	the	other	books	are	only	sup
	ported	by	its	authority."	"	It	is	very	plain	that	Mr	Whiston	has	not	read	the	ecclesiastical
	writers	with	much	judgment	or	attention	;	nay,	and	that	he	has	made	little	use	of	that	sort	of
	learning	which	he	best	understands,	I	mean	the	mathematics."	"	It	seems	Mr	Whiston	is
	ashamed	of	Anus	s	person,	since	he	complains	that	I	have	represented	him	as	one	of	his
	followers.	But	I	must	own	that	he	has	confirmed	me	in	that	opinion	of	him,	by	the	pro
	positions	he	has	published	in	his	appendix	to	his	reply,	and	it	is	my	custom	that	I	call	scapham
	scapham.	"
	His	other	numerous	and	valued	works	I	need	not	name,	except	his	Latin	Dissertations,	De
	Messife	duplici	adventu,	published	in	1701,	which	drew	forth	Bayle	s	sarcasm	(Art.	Braunbom),
	"	notwithstanding	Juricu	s	want	of	success,	Dr.	Allix	has	taken	the	field	to	assure	us	that	Anti
	christ	will	be	extinct	in	1716,	in	1720,	or	(at	the	latest)	in	i73	6	-"	Such	were	favourite
	speculations	of	the	French	refugees.	A	correspondent	of	Ralph	Thoresby	wrote	from	Petty
	France,	Westminster,	Aug.	17,	1715,	(signed	J.	C),	"The	setting	aside	of	the	French	king	s
	Will	as	to	the	most	essential	parts	of	it,	and	that	before	he	was	quite	cold,	shews	that	the	com
	mands	of	the	most	imperious	and	domineering	person	in	the	world	cannot	extend	his	sic	volo
	etjubco	one	moment	after	the	breath	is	out	of	his	body	;	that	a	living	dog	is	better	than	a	dead
	lion.	Great	events	seem	now	not	so	remote	as	even	the	year	1717,	when	the	Bishop	of
	Worcester	expects	them	;	restoration	of	the	religious	and	civil	rights	of	France	;	the	downfall
	of	Rome	and	Popery,	&c.,	which	God	grant,	Amen	!	"
	"	He	enjoyed,"	says	Dr	Campbell	(in	the	Biographia	Britannia^	"	a	very	uncommon	share
	of	health	and	spirits,	as	appears	by	his	latest	writings,	in	which	there	is	not	only	all	the
	erudition	but	all	the	quickness	and	vivacity	that	appeared	in	his	earliest	pieces.	Those	who
	knew	him	found	the	same	pleasure	in	his	conversation	that	the	learned	will	always	find	in	his
	productions	;	for	with	a	prodigious	share	of	learning	he	had	a	wonderful	liveliness	of	temper,
	and	expressed	himself	on	the	driest	subjects	with	so	much	sprightliness,	and	in	a	manner	so
	out	of	the	common	road,	that	it	was	impossible	to	flag	or	lose	one	s	attention	to	what	was	the
	subject	of	his	discourse.	He	continued	his	application	to	the	last,	and	died	at	London,
	February	21,	1717,	in	the	seventy-sixth	year	of	his	age,	leaving	behind	him	the_	reputation	of
	a	man	equally	assiduous	in	the	right	discharge	of	all	the	offices	of	public	and	private	life,	and
	every	way	as	amiable	for	his	virtues	and	social	qualities,	as	venerable	for	his	uprightness	and
	integrity,	and	famous	for	his	various	and	profound	learning."
	His	will	was	dated	i8th	February	1717,	and	proved	on	the	27th	by	his	widow	Mrs.
	Margaret	Allix	;	it	was	translated	from	the	French	by	Pet.	S.	Eloy,	N.P.,	and	was	as	follows:
	"	I,	under-written,	Peter	Allix,	living	in	London,	have	made	my	will	as	follows	:	I	recommend
	my	soul	to	God,	the	Father,	Son,	and	Holy	Ghost,	and	I	order	my	body	to	be	buried	privately,
	and	without	expense.	I	was	minister	of	the	church	of	Paris	when,	by	the	persecution	made
	in	France	to	those	of	the	reformed	religion,	all	the	ministers	were	drove	out	of	the	kingdom
	by	an	Edict.	I	came	for	refuge	into	England	with	my	wife	and	three	children,	where	I	found
	a	happy	asylum.	The	universities	of	Oxford	and	Cambridge	did	of	their	own	accord	confer
	on	me	the	degree	of	Doctor	in	Divinity.	I	exercised	the	ministerial	functions	two	years	or
	thereabouts	in	London	among	the	French	refugees,	until	I	was	named	Treasurer	an	d	Pre
	bendary	of	Salisbury	by	the	bishop	of	the	diocese.	I	have	endeavoured	to	edify	the	faithful
	by	my	ministry,	my	works,	and	my	example.	I	bequeath	to	my	eldest	son,	Peter	Allix,	my
	manuscripts,	to	make	such	use	thereof	as	I	have	mentioned	to	him.	I	have	always	wished	the


tfi	CONTENTS.
	No.	Pitgs
	To	operate	the	same	in	one	hour's	time,	on	a	lar-
	ger	quantity	....	215	95
	The	receipt	of	the	vinegar	called	the	grand	con-
	stables	Vinegar	.	.	.	316	95
	To	increase	the	strength	and	sharpness	of	the
	vinegar	.	.	.	.	317	95
	The	secret	for	making	good	vinegar,	given	by	a
	vinegar	man	in	Paris	-	.	.	318	95
	To	make	vinegar	with	water	.	.	319	96
	To	make	good	vinegar	with	spoiled	wine	.	S20	96
	To	make	a	dry	portable	vinegar	.	S21	90
	To	make	a	rosboiis	(hat	may	serve	as	a	founda-
	tion	for	other	liquors	.	.	Sa2	96
	To	make	raspberry,	strawberry,	cherry	or	other
	uch	waters	....	323	97
	To	make	lemonade	water	at	a	cheap	rate	.	S24	97
	To	make	apricot	water	.	S25	97
	To	make	exceeding	good	lemonade	.	326	97
	To	make	a	cooling	cinnacnon	water	.	s<27	97
	To	make	annisted	water	.	.	.	$28	98
	To	make	juniper	water	.	.	.	329	98
	To	make	good	hydromel	otherwise	mathiglen	3	SO	98
	To	make	angelic	water	.	.	.	331	98
	To	make	cinnamon	water	.	;	332	99
	To	draw	the	essential	oil	of	roses	.	.	343	102
	To	make	mutton	suit	candles	in	imitation	of
	wax	candles	-	-	*jL	,	348	103
	To	make	soap	-	.	.	..	349	103
	To	prevent	any	thing	burning	in	thfe	fire	.	350	104
	To	prevent	burning	one's	fingers	kfeelted	lead	351	104
	To	kill	all	sorts	of	worms	in	cattle	.	353	104
	To	kill	maggots	in	sheep	.	.	354	104
	To	make	an	imitation	of	coffee	.	.	353	105
	The	odouring	snuff	after	the	method	practised	at
	Rome	,	.	.	.	389	115
	The	snuff	with	the	odour	of	civet	.	390	115
	The	amber	snuff	....	391	115
	The	odouring	snuff	Maltese	fashion	.	392	115
	The	true	Maltese	method	of	preparing	snuff	393	115
	The	Spanish	method	of	perfuming	snuff	.	394	116
	To	give	a	red	or	yellow	colour	to	snuff	.	395	1	1	6
	To	take	off	iron	moulds	from	linen	.	39^	117
	To	take	off	carriage	wheel	grease	from	cloaths	397	117
	To	take	out	pitch	and	turpentine	spots	401	US
	TO	restore	gold	and	silver	lace	to	their	former
	beauty	....	404	118


16	SECRETS	IN	ARTS	AND	TRADES.
	10.	To	give	iron	a	temper	to	cut	porphyry.
	Make	your	iron	red	hot,	and	plunge	it	in	distilled	water
	from	nettles,	acanthus,	and	pilosella,	(or	mouse-ears)	or	in	the
	very	juice	pounded	out	of	these	plants.
	11.	To	soften	all	sorts	of	metals.
	Take	sublimated	mercury,	euphorbium,	borax,	and	ammo-
	niac	salt,	of	each	equal	parts	pulverised.	Project	some	of
	that	powder	over	any	metal,	when	in	a	state	of	fusion,	and
	you	will	obtain	the	desired	effect	of	making	it	soft.
	12.	To	soften	a	sophistic	metal.
	Take	black	soap	and	common	salt,	of	each	two	ounces	;
	human	excrements	dried	and	pulverised,	four	ounces	;	roch
	alum	an	equal	quantity,	and	nitre	salt,	half	an	ounce.	Incor-
	porate	all	together	in	a	pan,	over	the	fire,	with	bullock's	gall	;
	keep	stirring	it	till	you	feel	no	longer	any	saline	particle.
	Then	take	C	If'	the	pan	from	the	fire,	and	let	the	composition
	cool.	Of	this,	you	may	throw	some	into	the	crucible	in
	which	your	metal	is	in	fusion.
	13.	A	good	temper	for	arm	si
	Take	tythimalu?,	or	spurge	;	roots	of	wild	horse	radish,
	bryonia,	and	purslain,	of	each	equal	quantities.	Pound	all
	together,	so	that	you	may	get	at	least	one	pound	of	juice.
	Add	to	this,	one	pound	of	red	haired	child's	water	;	salt-
	petre,	alkaline,	gem	and	ammoniac	salts,	of	each	one	drachm.
	When	you	have	mixed	all	well	together	in	a	glass	vessel,	close
	stopped,	bury	it	in	the	cellar,	and	there	let	it	lie	for	twenty
	clays.	Then	bring	it	up	again,	and	put	it	in	a	retort,	to
	which	you	will	adapt	aod	lute	well	its	receiver,	and	begin	to
	distil	by	a	gradual	fire.	Now	when	you	want	to-	get	arms
	of	a	good	temper,	you	have	only	to	plunge	them	in	this	dis-
	tilled	liquor,	after	having	previously	made	them	red	hot	in
	the	fire.
	14-.	To	melt	iron	and	make	it	soft:
	Take	two	pounds	of	auripigment,	and	four	of	oil	of	tartar.
	Make	the	auripigment	soak	up	all	the	oil	of	tartar,	and	dry
	it	up	afterwards	over	a	soft	fire.	Then	put	small	bits	of	iron
	in	a	crucible;	and	when	very	red,	throw	by	little	at	a	time,
	about	half	a	pound	of	that	auripigment,	prepared	as	before;
	and	you	will	find	your	iron	soft	and	white.


SECRETS	IN	ARTS	AND	TRADES.	S3
	before	the	fire	with	the	first.	Then	another	and	another,	till
	they	are	all	by	this	method,	perfectly	well	amalgamated	to-
	gether.
	2.	Have	now	some	cinnabar	in	powder,	which	put	in	a	pan
	with	water.	In	that	water	and	cinnabar	powder,	set	to	in-
	fuse,	or	only	touch	your	incorporated	gums,	to	make	this
	composition	take	colour.	When	thus	sufficiently	coloured,
	take	it	out	of	the	water	with	both	your	hands	and	the	wood-
	en	pallets,	and	have	a	person	to	help	you.	This	having	wet-
	ted	his	hand,	will	draw	some	of	the	said	gum,	and	handling
	it	on	a	table,	will	form	the	sticks.	For	two	pounds	of	gums,
	two	ounces	of	cinnabar	are	wanted.
	80.	An	excellent	sealing	wax	by	Girardot.
	Put	four	ounces	of	rosin,	and	four	and	a	half	of	whitening,
	and	melt	them	together	in	a	non-varnished	pipkin,	over	kind-
	led	coals.	While	this	is	in	fusion,	have	another	pot,	similar
	to	this,	in	which	you	keep	two	ounces	of	shell-lac,	in	disso-
	lution	with	vinegar.	Now	steep	a	wooden	stick	in	the	first
	pot,	and	another	in	the	other	pot	;	then,	over	a	chafingdish,
	turn	quickly,	one	over	another,	the	ends	of	your	two	sticks
	together,	to	mix	and	incorporate	well	what	matter	they	shall
	have	brought	along	with	them	from	each	pipkin.	And	after
	having	turned	them	thus	a	reasonable	time,	you	see	both	mat-
	ters	are	well	embodified,	steep	them,	at	different	times,	in	a
	prepared	liquor	to	colour	them.
	81.	A	cement	to	render	crystal	like	diamonds,	and	give
	the	sapphires	of	Alenson	a	hardness	to	cut	glass	with
	ease.
	Make	a	strong	dough	with	sifted	barley	flour	and	petroly,
	(or	rock-oii.)	Divide	this	paste	in	two	equal	parts.	In	one	of
	them	range	your	stones,	so	that	they	should	not	touch	one
	another.	With	the	other	part	of	your	paste	cover	thrs.
	Wrap	up	the	whole	with	a	good	lute,	and	give	it	a	wheel
	iire'for	four	or	five	hours,	gradually	increasing	the	strength	of
	the	fire	between	every	two	hours.	Then	you	will	have	a
	lump	of	stones,	which	will	sparkle	like	true	diamonds.
	82.	A.	paste,	which	will	produce	at	beautiful	emeralds
	as	natural	ones.
	Calcine,	six	different	times,	rock	crystal,	and	plunge	it,	as
	many	times,	in	pure	cold	water.	Grind	it	into	powder,	on
	a	rock	crystal	stone,	with	a	mullar	of	the	same.	When	you
	have	rendered	the	powder	very	fine	and	impalpable,	to	one


62	SECRETS	IN	ARTS	AND	TRADES.
	has	been	applied.	When	used	to	join	broken	glass	or	china?
	the	pieces	to	be	joined	should	be	previously	warmed.	Im-
	mersion	in	hot	water	will	give	them	a	sufficient	degree	of
	heat.	Wipe	off	the	water	before	applying	the	cement,	which
	may	be	laid	on	with	a	pencil	;	then	press	the	pieces	together,
	binding	them	with	a	string	or	bit	of	soft	wire,	if	necessary.
	_	This	isinglass	glue	is	far	preferable	to	common	glue	for
	nice	purposes,	being	much	stronger,	and	less	liable	to	be
	softened	either	by	heat	or	moisture.
	184.	A	good	Glue	for	Sign-	Boards,	or	any	thing	that
	must	stand	the	weather,
	Melt	common	glue	with	water	to	a	proper	consistence	;
	then	add	.one	eighth	of	boiled	linseed	oil,	dropping	it	into	the
	glue	gently,	and	stirring	it	all	the	time.
	A	very	strong	glue	is	made	by	adding	some	powdered
	chalk	to	common	glue.
	Another	that	will	resist	water	is	made	by	adding	half	a
	pound	of	common	glue	to	two	quarts	of	skimmed	milk.
	185.	Lapland	Glue.
	The	bows	of	the	Laplanders	are	composed	of	two	pieces
	of	wood	glued	together	;	one	of	them	of	birch,	which	is	flex-
	ible,	and	the	other	of	fir	of	the	marshes,	which	is	stiff,	in	or-
	der	that	the	bow	when	bent	may	not	break,	and	that	when
	unbent	it	may	not	bend.	When	these	two	pieces	of	wood
	are	bent,	all	the	points	of	contact	endeavour	to	disunite	them-
	selves,	and	to	prevent	this,	the	Laplanders	employ	the	fol-
	lowing	cement	:	they	take	the	skinns	of	the	largest	perches,*
	and	having	dried	them,	moisten	them	in	cold	water	until	they
	are	so	soft	that	they	may	be	freed	from	the	scales,	which	they
	throw	away.	They	then	put	four	or	five	of	these	skins	into
	a	rein-deer's	bladder,	or	they	wrap	them	up	in	the	soft	bark
	of	the	birch	tree,	in	such	a	manner,	that	water	cannot	touch
	them,	and	place	them	thus	covered	into	a	pot	of	boiling	wa-
	ter,	with	a	stone	above	them	to	keep	them	at	the	bottom.
	When	they	have	boiled	about	an	hour,	they	take	them	from
	the	bladder	or	bark,	and	they	are	then	found	to	be	soft	and
	viscous.	In	this	state	they	employ	them	for	glueing	togeth-
	er	the	two	pieces	of	their	bows,	which	they	strongly	compress
	and	tie	up	till	the	glue	is	well	dried.	These	pieces	never
	afterwards	separate.
	186.	Turkey	Cement,	for	joining	Metals,	Glass,	ferV.
	Dissolve	five	or	six	bits	of	mastich,	as	large	as	peas,	in	at
	*	It	is	probable	that	eel-skins	would	answer	the	same	purpose.


so	SECRETS	IN	ARTS	AND	TRADES;
	merited	is	to	be	reduced	to	plates,	as	thin	as	small	pieces	of
	money.	At	the	bottom	of	the	crucible,	or	melting-pot,	is	to>-
	be	laid	a	stratum	of	cement,	composed	of	four	parts	of	bricks
	powdered	and	sifted,	one	part	of	green	copperas	(sulphate	of
	iron)	calcined'	to	redness,	and	one	part	of	common	salt,	about
	the	thickness	of	a	ringer	in	depth.	Upon	this	stratum	a	layer
	of	plates	of	the	metal	is	to	be	placed,	and	then	another	stra-
	tum	of	cement,	and	so	on	till	the	crucible	is	filled.	It	is	now
	to	be	placed	in	a	furnace,	or	oven	(after	a	top	has	been	luted
	on	the	crucible,)	and	exposed	for	twenty-four	hours,	till	it	is
	gradually	made	red	hot,	but	by-	no	means	to	be	melted.	The
	fire	is	now	left	to	go	out,	and	the	metal	is	permitted	to	cool,
	that	it	may	be	separated	from	the	cement,	and	boiled	repeat-
	edly	in	large	quantities	of	pure	water.	This	gold	is	after-
	wards	to	be	tried	on	a	touch-	stone	;	and	if	it	is	not	sufficient-
	ly	purified,	the	process	must	be	performed	a	second	time.
	By	the	above	method^	we	see	how	powerfully	silver	is	dissol-
	ved	by	marine	acid,	when	it	is	in	a	state	of	subtile	vapour,
	which	is	disengaged	from	the	common	salt	of	the	cement.	In--
	stead	of	common	salt,	nitre	may	be	used,	as	tire	nitrous	acid
	readily	dissolves	silver	;	but	the	mixture	of	common	salt	and
	nitre	together	is	highly	injudicious,	because	the	joint	acids	are
	ab!e	to	dissolve	some	of	the	gold	with	the	silver;	Whatever
	silver	has	been	separated,	will	now	remain	in	the	cement	;	but
	it	may	be	freed	from	this	by	lead,	in	the	method	described	in
	cupellation.
	Parting	gold	from	silixr	in	the	dry	way.	This	is	also	called-
	parting	bf	fusion,	and	is	performed	by	means	of	sulphury
	which	has	the	property	of	uniting	easily	with	silver,	while	it-
	does	not	attack	gold.	This	dry	parting	is	troublesome,	and
	even	expensive,	and	ought	not	to	be	undertaken	but	when	the
	silver	far	exceeds	the	gold,	because	salphur	will	not	separate
	It	so	easily	as	aqua	fortis,	and	will	therefore-	require	a	further
	application	to	cupellation	arid	solution.
	289.	How	to	renew	old	writings	almost	defaced.
	We	ordered,	in	article	225,	p.	72,	to	boil	ga!l-nuts	in
	wine	;	but	we	must	add	here	that	it	is	far	preferable	to	infuse
	them	only	twenty-four	hours	in	it,	then	put	all	in	a	retort	and
	distil.	The	liquor	which	comes	from	it	being	passed	on	the
	paper	or	parchment,	will	revive	the	defaced	parts	of	the	wri-
	tings.-
	290.	To	write	in	gold	letter	s>	on	iron	or	steel.
	1.	Pound	some	gold	marcasites	in	a	mortar	;	put	it	to	in-
	fuse	twenty-four	hcrurs	in	vinegar,	and	boil	it	gently	over	the
	ftre	in	a	glased	pipkin,	till	the	vinegar	is	almost	vanished


SECRETS	IN	ARTS	AND	TRADES.	119
	and	brush	it	afterwards	with	a	soft	cloth-brush.	This	cp
	oration	wiU	restore	a	tapestry	to	its	pristine	state.
	407.	To	take	off	spots	of	wax	from	velvet	of	any	colour,
	except	the	crimson.
	Take	the	crum	of	a	stale	loaf,	and	cut	a	thick	slice	out	of
	it,	which	toast	and	apply,	while	burning	hot,	an	the	spot	of
	wax	;	when	cooled,	renew	it	till	all	the	wax	is	soaked	out	of
	the	velvet.
	408.	To	iva/h	a	gold	or	silver	^	or	sill	embroidery	or
	any	stuff	whatever,	and	render	it	like	new.
	Take	bullock's	gall,	a	pound,	soap	and	honey,	three	ounces
	of	each,	and	Florentine	orrice,	about	the	same	quantity	in
	-subtile	powder.	Pat	all	in^	a	glass	vessel,	in	which	mix	it
	well	into	a	paste,	and	let	it	be	exposed	for	ten	days	in	the	sun.
	When	you	are	ready	to	use	it,	make	an	infusion	of	bran,
	which	boil	in	water	and	strain	through	a	cloth.	Then	smear
	the	work	over	with	the	above	described	paste,	in	such	places
	as	you	want	to	clean,	and	wash	them	afterwards	with	bran
	water,	renewing	this	till	it	receives	no	more	alteration	in	its
	colour.	Wipe	well	the	places	with	a	white	cloth	and	wrap
	the	work	in	a	clean	napkin	to	set	it	in	the	sun	co	dry,	after
	which	pass	it	through	the	polishing	and	lustring	press,	and
	the	work	will	be	as	fine	and	bright	as	when	new.
	409.	To	revive	the	colour	of	a	cloth.
	Pour	one	quart	of	water	on	one	pound	of	burnt	pot-ashes.
	Twelve	hours	after	decant	the	water	offin	another	vessel,	knd
	put	in	a	handful	of	dry	moth	mullin	leaves,	with	two	bul-
	lock's	galls.	Boil	altogether	till	the	leaves	go	to	the	bottom,
	Then	set	this	watef	for	a	few	days	in	the	sun.	Then	putting
	m	it	whatever	colour	you	want,	boil	it	with	the	cloth	in	that
	lye,	and	let	it	thus	soak	afterwards	fourteen	or	fifteen	days,
	then	the	cloth	will	have	resumed	its	primary	colour.
	410.	To	take	the	spots	of	from	a	white	doth.
	^	Boil	two	ounces	of	alum	for	half	an	hour,	in	a	pint,	or	a
	pint	and	a	half	of	water	;	then	put	in	a	piece	of	white	soap*
	with	another	pound	of	alum	;	and	having	soaked	thus	three
	days	in	the	cold,	you	may	with	it	wash	all	the	spots	of	any
	white	cloth	whatever.
	4	i	1	.	A	composition	of	soap	-to	take	off	all	sorts	of	spots,
	\.	Take	a	pound	of	Venetian	white	soap,	six	yolks	of	eggs
	and	half	a	spoonful	of	salt	pounded.	Incorporate	all	together


SECRETS	IN	ARTS	AND	TRADES.	161
	without	spoiling	its	texture	and	render:	less.	The
	dyer,	therefore,	when	he	wishes	to	givv	a	new	co-our	to
	cloth,	has	always	recourse	to	the	second	metl,
	The	substances	employed	for	this	purpose	are	callod	col*
	tiring	matters,	or	dye	stuffs.	They	are	for	the	most	part	ex-
	tracted	from	animal	and.	vegetable	substances,	and	have	usu-
	ally	the	colour	which	they	intend	to	give	to	the	cloth.	Since
	the	particles	of	colouring	matter	with	which	clot.h	when
	dyed	is	covered,	are	transparent,	it	follows,	that	all	the	light
	reflected	from	dyed	cloth	must	be	reflected,	not	by	the	dye
	stuff	itself,	but	by	the	fibres	of	the	cloth	below	the	dye	stuff.
	The	colour	therefore	does	not	depend	upon	the	dye	alone,
	but	abo	upon	the	previous	colour	of	the	cloth.	If	the	cloth
	be	blacky	it	is	clear	that	we	cannot	dye	it	any	other	colour
	whatever	;	because	as	no	light	in	that	case	is	reflected,	none
	can	be	transmitted,	whatever	dye	stuff	we	employ.	If	the
	eloth	were	red,	or	blue,	or	yellow,	we	could	not	dye	it	any
	v	colour	except	black	;	because,	as	only	red,	or	blue,	or	yellow
	rays	were	reflected,	no	other	could	be	transmitted.	Hence
	the	importance	of	a	fine	white	colour,	when	cloth	is	to	re-
	ceive	bright	dyes.	It	then	reflects	all	the	rays	in	abundance,
	and	therefore	any	colour	may	be	given,	by	covering	it	with
	a	dye	stuff	which	transmits	only.some	particular	rays.
	If	the	colouring	matters	were	merely	spread	over	the	sur-
	face	of	the	fibres	of	cloth	by	the	dyer,	the	colours	produced
	.might	be	very	bright,	but	they	could	not	be	permanent	;	be-
	cause	the	colouring	matter	would	be	very	soon	rubbed	off;
	and	would	totally	disappear	whenever	the	cloth	was	washed,
	or	even	barely	exposed	to	the	weather.	The	colouring	mat~
	ter	then,	however	perfect	a	colour	it	possesses,	is	of	no	value,
	unless	it	also	adheres	so	firmly	to	the	cloth	that	none	of	the
	substances	usually	applied	to	cloth,	in	order	to	clean	it*	c.
	can	displace	it.	Now	this	can	only	happen,	when	there	is	a
	strong	affinity	between	the	colouring	matter	and	the	cloth,
	and	when	they	are	actually	combined	together	in	consequence
	of	that	affinity.
	Dyeing	then	is	merely	a	chemical	process,	and	consists	in
	combining	a	certain	colouring	matter	with	fibres	of	cloth.
	This	process	can	in	no	instance	be	performed,	unless	the	dye
	stuff	be	first	reduced	to	its	integrant	particles	;	for	the	attrac-
	tion	of	aggregation	between	the	particles	of	dye	stuffs,	is	too
	great	to	be	overcome	by	the	affinity	between	them	and	the
	cloth,	unless	they	could	be	brought	within	much	smaller	dis-
	tances	than	is	possible	while	they	both	remain	in	a	solid	form*
	It	is	necessary,	therefore,	previously	to	dissolve	the	colouring
	matter	in	some	liquid	or	other,	which	has	a	weaker	affinity
	for	it	than	the	cloth	has.	When	the	cloth	is	dipped	into	this
	solution,	the	colouring	matter,	reduced	by	this	contrivance
	3?	&


SSirgtnten«	403
	grünbete,	roeldjeS	er	burdj	feine	©efdjicflicfjfeit	unb	gute	SBeredjmmg	im
	Saufe	ber	3afjre	fo	öergröfjerte	unb	erweiterte,	bafc	cS	btettetdjt	nur	tion
	einer	äfynlidjen,	ber	©	tei	n	m	an	'	fdjen	gabrif	in	9iero	2)orf,	über*
	troffen	mirb,	alle	anbern	aber	an	Umfang	unb	SBebeutung	mit	überragt.
	$nabe	ftarb	im	3al)r	1864.	(£r	f)atte	fidj	burdj	feine	2ftenfdjenfreunb*
	lidjfeit	£aufenben	öetpfttdjtet,	unb	feine	Arbeiter	fingen	mit	großer	Siebe
	an	i()n.
	2)ie	StabafSfabrif	öon	©ail,	eines	alten	5InfteblerS,	ift	ebenfalls	eine
	ber	größten	beS	SanbeS.	3m	Sab^re	1835	mürbe	t>on	Söeber	eine
	litfjograpljifdje	Slnfialt	gegrünbet,	triefleidjt	bie	ältefie	beutfdje	beS	SanbeS,
	tüelcf)e	je^t	ebenfalls	*>on	großer	53ebeutung	getnorben	ift.	§.	8.	9ltejj
	eröffnete	bie	erfte	beutfdje	Sßudjljanblung	ju	Baltimore	1843.
	3n	polttifdjer	SBe^ieljung	!ann	man	nur	fagen,	bafj	baS	2)eutfä)tl)um
	in	ben	Sa^r^nten	unferer	Sßefpredjung	tote	an	anbern	Orten	im	grojjen
	(Sanken	gur	bemofratifdjen	Partei	ftanb,	otyne	inbeffen	im	öffentlichen
	Seben	befonberS	"fierüorjutreten.
	3n	einer	©efäjidjte	ber	beutfdjen	©inttmnberung	-beS	vorigen	Sdjr*
	rjunbertS	nadj	ben	englifdjen	Kolonien	9?orbamerifa'S	bürfte	35	i	r	g	i	n	i	e	n
	feine	unbebeutenbe	IRolIe	fielen.	©cfjon	im	Anfang	jener	3eitj)eriobe
	fanben	beutfdje	^Inficblungen,	namentlich	am	Sftappaljannocf	unb	in	bem
	Strafe	beS	©Ijenanboaf),	ftatt,	unb	bie	Stäbte	grebericfSburg,	Lüneburg,
	(Strasburg,	D^em	kartet,	©tepljansburg,	ßtjriftiansburg,	fomie	9?eu=
	33ern,	unb	^ar)lreict)e	anbere,	ftnb	urfprünglid)	bort	3)eutfdjen	unb	@djiuei=
	gern	angelegt	morben.	£)iefe	(Stntnanberung	bauerte	bis	jur	ÜJHtte	be§
	3aljr()unbertS	fyin,	unb	an	bem	Unabf)ängtgfeitS=$riege	beteiligten	fi$
	bie	üirginifdjen	2)eutfd)en	lebhaft.	3m	allgemeinen	maren	fie	too^U
	Ijabenbe	9Ic!erbauer	unb	trieben	audj	fcr)on	SBeinbau.	Ebenfalls	aus	Sßenn*
	fntüanien	roaren	in	nict)t	tleiner	Slnga^I	bortige	SDeutfdje	nadj	SSirginien
	übergefiebelt.
	SDiefetben	Urfad)en	aber,	bie	ttrir	fdjon	früher	angegeben	fjaben,	festen
	foenigftenS	ber	bireften	Sintnanberung	ein	S'\^	&i§	3um	feiten	Satyrjeljnt
	biefeS	3af)rf)unbertS	fotote	audj	einer	gortentmidelung	beS	beutfdjen	(£le=
	mentS.	(Srft	nadj	bem	Anfang	ber	breiiger	3af)re	fingen	bie	©eutfdjen
	lieber	an,	fiel)	f)ie	unb	ba	in	55irginien	nieberjulafjen,	namentlich)	aber	im
	roeftlidjen	Steile	beS	Staates,	ber	nad)	2IuSbrud)	beS	@e3ejfionS=$riegeS
	fiel)	öon	bem	alten	SSirginien	loSjagte,	unb	unter	bem	tarnen	SBeft
	SStrginten	ftdj	als	freier	(Staat	fonftituirte.	9ttarttnSburg,	Söljeeling	unb
	^ßarferSburg,	beibe	letztere	am	Dljio	gelegen,	ttmren	biejenigen	fünfte,	mo
	fid)	beutfdjeS	Seben	am	lebhafteren	entttndelte.
	3n	ben	3etten,	bie	mir	beljanbeln,	mar	bie	3af)l	ber	neueingetoanber=
	ten	2)eutfd)en	in	$irgtnien	fo	gering,	bafj	man	einen	politifdjen	(Sinfluft
	berfelben	nidjt	erwarten	fonnte.	Uebcrljaupt	toar	biefeS	in	einem	(üblichen


268	PRIVATE	CORRESPONDENCE.
	price	by	a	little	discouragement	of	borough-jobbing,	now	that
	their	own	elections	are	all	coming	on.	The	price	indeed	is
	grown	exorbitant,	no	less	than	four	thousand	pounds	for	a
	member.	Mr.	Beckford	has	brought	in	a	hill	lor	preventing
	bribery	and	corruption	in	elections,	wherein	was	a	clause	to
	oblige	every	member	to	swear,	on	their	admission	into	the
	house,	that	he	had	not	directly	or	indirectly	given	any	bribe
	to	any	elector,	&c.;	but	this	was	so	universally	exclaimed
	against,	as	answering	no	end	hut	perjuring	the	members,	that
	he	has	been	obliged	to	withdraw	that	clause.	It	was	indeed	a
	cruel	contrivance	of	his,	worse	than	the	gunpowder	plot;	for
	that	was	only	to	blow	the	parliament	up	to	heaven,	this	to
	sink	them	all	down	to	.	Mr.	Thurlow	opposed	his	bill
	by	a	long	speech.	Beckford,	in	reply,	gave	a	dry	hit	to	the
	house,	that	is	repeated	every	where,	the	honorable	gentle
	man,	says	he,	in	his	learned	discourse,	gave	us	first	one	de
	finition	of	corruption,	then	he	gave	us	another	definition	of
	corruption,	and	I	think	he	was	about	to	give	us	a	third.	Pray
	does	that	gentleman	imagine	there	is	any	member	of	this	house
	that	does	not	KNOW	what	corruption	is?"	which	occasioned
	only	a	roar	of	laughter,	for	they	are	so	hardened	in	the	prac
	tice,	that	they	are	very	little	ashamed	of	it.	This	between
	ourselves.
	I	am	with	sincerest	esteem,	dear	sir,	your	most	obedient
	humble	servant,
	B.	FRANKLIN.
	To	T.	Wharton,	Esq.,	Philadelphia.
	London,	Feb.	20,	1768.
	DEAR	FRIEND,
	I	RECEIVED	your	favors	of	November	17	and	18,	with
	another	dozen	of	excellent	wine,	the	manufacture	of	our
	friend	Lievezy.	I	thank	you	for	the	care	you	have	taken	in
	forwarding	them,	and	for	your	kind	good	wishes	that	accom
	pany	them.
	The	story	you	mention	of	secretary	Conway	s	wondering
	\vliat	I	could	be	doing	in	England,	and	that	he	had	not	seen


SUNDAY	63
	On	the	other	hand,	the	road	runs	up	to	Car
	lisle,	city	of	the	woods,	which,	if	it	is	less	civil,
	is	the	more	natural.	It	does	well	hold	the	earth
	together.	It	gets	laughed	at	because	it	is	a
	small	town,	I	know,	but	nevertheless	it	is	a
	place	where	great	men	may	be	born	any	day,
	for	fair	winds	and	foul	blow	right	on	over	it
	without	distinction.	It	has	a	meeting-house
	and	horse-sheds,	a	tavern	and	a	blacksmith	s
	shop,	for	centre,	and	a	good	deal	of	wood	to	cut
	and	cord	yet.	And
	"	Bedford,	most	noble	Bedford,
	I	shall	not	thee	forget."
	History	has	remembered	thee;	especially	that
	meek	and	humble	petition	of	thy	old	planters,
	like	the	wailing	of	the	Lord	s	own	people,	"To
	the	gentlemen,	the	selectmen	"	of	Concord,
	praying	to	be	erected	into	a	separate	parish.
	We	can	hardly	credit	that	so	plaintive	a	psalm
	resounded	but	little	more	than	a	century	ago
	along	these	Babylonish	waters.	"In	the	ex
	treme	difficult	seasons	of	heat	and	cold,"	said
	they,	"we	were	ready	to	say	of	the	Sabbath,
	Behold	what	a	weariness	is	it."	"Gentlemen,
	if	our	seeking	to	draw	off	proceed	from	any	dis
	affection	to	our	present	Reverend	Pastor,	or	the
	Christian	Society	with	whom	we	have	taken
	such	sweet	counsel	together,	and	walked	unto
	the	house	of	God	in	company,	then	hear	us	not


3i8	LIFE	OF	NICHOLAS	FERRAR.
	friends	brought	to	light"	and	finished.	...	A	book	it
	will	be	that	hath	not	its	parallel	or	match	in	the	whole
	world,	and	may	well	become,	as	many	learned	men
	say	that	have	seen	the	model	of	it,	the	best	library	in
	the	Christian	world,	and	a	jewel	not	unbeseeming	the
	greatest	potentate	s	study.	God	Almighty	give	both
	means	and	heads	and	hands	to	effect	it	:	to	whom	must
	be	the	glory,	praise,	and	honour	!	Amen,	amen,
	amen."	*
	In	the	September	of	the	year	in	which	the	English
	Polyglott	was	published	1657	the	earthly	remains
	of	John	Ferrar	were	laid	in	Gidding	churchyard,	and
	his	noble	conception	was	left	a	dream	unrealized.
	On	the	memorial	brass,	which	still	remains	in
	Gidding	church,	is	inscribed,	beneath	his	name	and
	arms,	the	same	text	which,	on	his	first	coming	to
	Gidding,	was	engraved	over	the	door	of	the	house	:
	"	Flee	from	evil,	and	do	ye	the	thing	y*	is	right,	and
	dwell	for	ever-more."
	His	sister,	Mrs.	Collett,	survived	him	little	more
	than	a	week,	dying	on	the	Qth	of	October,	at	the	age
	of	seventy-six.	She	had	been	a	widow	seven	years,
	Mr.	Collett	having	ended	his	quiet	life	in	1650.	Both
	husband	and	wife	lie	in	the	churchyard	at	Gidding,
	and	near	them	rests	their	daughter,	Susannah	Chedley,
	"	who	exchanged	this	life	for	a	better	on	the	3ist	day
	1	"	Observations	on	Works	done	at	Gidding,"	printed	with
	"	Two	Live?,"	by	Mr.	Mayor.


172	WALDEN.
	foddering	the	cattle	and	tending	the	store,
	we	are	kept	from	school	too	long,	and	our
	education	is	sadly	neglected.	In	this	coun
	try,	the	village	should	in	some	respects	take
	the	place	of	the	nobleman	of	Europe.	It
	should	be	the	patron	of	the	fine	arts.	It
	is	rich	enough.	It	wants	only	the	magna
	nimity	and	refinement.	It	can	spend	money
	enough	on	such	things	as	farmers	and	traders
	value,	but	it	is	thought	Utopian	to	propose
	spending	money	for	things	which	more	in
	telligent	men	know	to	be	of	far	more	worth.
	This	town	has	spent	seventeen	thousand	dol
	lars	on	a	town-house,	thank	fortune	or	poli
	tics,	but	probably	it	will	not	spend	so	much
	on	living	wit,	the	true	meat	to	put	into	that
	shell,	in	a	hundred	years.	The	one	hundred
	and	twenty-five	dollars	annually	subscribed
	for	a	Lyceum	in	the	winter	is	better	spent
	than	any	other	equal	sum	raised	in	the	town.
	If	we	live	in	the	nineteenth	century,	why
	should	we	not	enjoy	the	advantages	which
	the	nineteenth	century	offers	?	Why	should
	our	life	be	in	any	respect	provincial	?	If	we
	will	read	newspapers,	why	not	skip	the	gossip
	of	Boston	and	take	the	best	newspaper	in
	the	world	at	once?	not	be	sucking	the	pap
	of	"	neutral	family	"	papers,	or	browsing


46	THE	MAINE	WOODS
	though	not	more	than	twenty,	perhaps,	in	a
	straight	line.
	It	being	about	the	full	of	the	moon,	and	a
	warm	and	pleasant	evening,	we	decided	to	row
	five	miles	by	moonlight	to	the	head	of	the	North
	Twin	Lake,	lest	the	wind	should	rise	on	the
	morrow.	After	one	mile	of	river,	or	what	the
	boatmen	call	"thoroughfare,"	for	the	river
	becomes	at	length	only	the	connecting	link	be
	tween	the	lakes,	and	some	slight	rapid	which
	had	been	mostly	made	smooth	water	by	the	dam,
	we	entered	the	North	Twin	Lake	just	after	sun
	down,	and	steered	across	for	the	river	"thor
	oughfare,"	four	miles	distant.	This	is	a	noble
	sheet	of	water,	where	one	may	get	the	impres
	sion	which	a	new	country	and	a	"lake	of	the
	woods"	are	fitted	to	create.	There	was	the
	smoke	of	no	log-hut	nor	camp	of	any	kind	to
	greet	us,	still	less	was	any	lover	of	nature	or
	musing	traveler	watching	our	batteau	from	the
	distant	hills;	not	even	the	Indian	hunter	was
	there,	for	he	rarely	climbs	them,	but	hugs	the
	river	like	ourselves.	No	face	welcomed	us	but
	the	fine	fantastic	sprays	of	free	and	happy	ever
	green	trees,	waving	one	above	another	in	their
	ancient	home.	At	first	the	red	clouds	hung
	over	the	western	shore	as	gorgeously	as	if	over
	a	city,	and	the	lake	lay	open	to	the	light	with
	even	a	civilized	aspect,	as	if	expecting	trade	and


72
	THE	FIRST	BOOK	OF	THE	KINGS.
	people	and	the	latter	the	dwelling-place	of	God.
	Further,	in	1	Kings	vi.	5,	the	holy	place,	in	contra
	distinction	with	the	holy	of	holies,	is	called	p3&gt;n	.
	If	now	the	holy	place	were	the	abode	of	the	peo
	ple	over-against	the	abode	of	God,	the	entire	sanc
	tuary,	comprehending	both	compartments,	could
	not	be	called	.TiT	^n	,	or	simply	73^	n	,	as	in	1
	Sam.	i.	9	;	iii.	3	;	2	Kings	xxiv.	13	;	2	Chron.	iii.
	17	;	Ps.	v.	8	;	still	less	could	this	expression	be	used
	of	heaven,	which	is	specially	the	abode	of	God	and
	not	of	the	people	(Ps.	xl.	4	;	xviii.	7	;	xxix.	9	;
	Mich.	i.	2	;	Hab.	ii.	20).
	(b)	The	porch	and	the	side-structure	(Umbau)
	with	the	stories	are,	as	has	been	already	shown,
	structures	in	front	and	by	the	sides	of	the	house,
	which	are	recognized	as	such	in	that,	unlike	the
	house,	they	did	not	serve	for	the	performance	of
	any	religious	office.	They	do	not	therefore	belong
	essentially	to	the	ground-plan	of	the	sanctuary,
	consequently	are	wanting	in	the	tabernacle,	and
	have	no	further	religious	significance	than	that
	they	give	to	what	was	hitherto	a	"	tent,"	the	char
	acter	of	a	"house,"	and	indeed	of	a	great,	firm,
	and	strong	house,	of	a	palace,	in	fact.	Porches
	were	never	used	for	tents,	but	only	in	the	case	of
	large,	conspicuous	buildings	like	palaces,	as,	e.	g.,
	Solomon	s	(1	Kings	vii.	6	sq.).	If	now	the	house
	of	a	human	sovereign	had	its	porch,	much	less
	should	one	be	missing	in	the	house	of	Jehovah,
	the	God-King,	to	distinguish	it	rightly	as	an	^yrt	,
	*.	e.,	a	king	s	palace	(Prov.	xxx.	28	;	Is.	xxxix,	7).
	"We	observe	the	same	in	respect	of	the	side-struc
	ture,	which,	as	is	expressly	remarked,	was	not	to
	be	included	within	the	house,	the	main	building,
	did	not	belong,	as	an	integrating	part,	to	the	dwell
	ing	of	Jehovah,	but	which	served	only	for	purely
	external	purposes,	the	preservation	of	the	vessels,
	&c.	But	like	the	porch	in	front,	it	served,	around
	the	sides	of	the	house,	which	rose	above	it,	to	im
	part	the	appearance	of	a	grand,	richly	surrounded,
	end	lasting	building	an	p3^n
	(c)	The	fyre	courts	constituted	the	second	essen
	tial	element	of	the	entire	sanctuary.	"	The	dwell
	ing	of	Jehovah	"	is.	as	observed	above,	the	place
	where	He	"	meets	"	the	people,	attests	himself
	unto	them,	speaks	with	them,	has	intercourse	with
	them.	It	is	called,	consequently,	also	"jyiO	pnX
	(Exod.	xxix.	42,	44;	xxvii.	21;	xl.	22),	or	lyift
	simply	(Lam.	ii.	6	;	Ps.	Ixxiv.	3),	i.	e.,	the	tent	of
	assembly,	the	"tabernacle	of	the	congregation"
	(not	the	time	of	assembling).	The	dwelling	of	Je
	hovah	in	a	given	place	makes	also	a	space	neces
	sary	for	the	people	to	meet	their	Lord	and	God.
	Hence	the	command:	"	thou	shalt	make	the	court
	of	the	tabernacle	"	(Exod.	xxvii.	9	;	Sept.	:	KOI
	iroifjGELc,	al?.T/v	TT)	aurrvy).	The	fore	court	moreover
	was	not	a	dwelling-place	of	the	people	in	contrast
	with	that	of	Jehovah,	but	only	a	court,	i.	e.,	a	fixed
	space	around	the	dwelling,	"	an	enclosed	gathering-
	place	for	the	people	drawing	nigh	to	their	God	"
	(Merz).	As	Jehovah	had	one	dwelling-place	only,
	the	people	could	meet	Him	only	here,	and	only
	here	attend	to	the	covenant	relation	with	Him.
	Ail	offices	in	connection	with	the	covenant	could
	be	performed,	hence,	only	here,	not	in	other	favor
	ite	spots,	not	upon	the	so-called	"heights"	(high
	places)	(Numb,	xvii.	1-9).	And	in	order	that	this
	might	be	the	case	with	the	entire	people,	it	was	or
	dered	that	all	Israelites,	certainly	three	times	in
	the	year,	should	appear	before	the	dwelling	of	Je
	hovah	(Exod.	xxiii.	17	;	Deut.	xvi.	16).	This	and
	nothing	more	is	the	object	and	significance	of	the
	fore	court.	Hengstenberg	is	altogether	wrong	in
	maintaining	that	"	the	house	or	dwelling	of	the
	people	was	properly	the	holy	place,"	that	they
	occupied	this,	"their	peculiar	dwelling,	only
	through	the	medium	of	their	representatives	and
	middle-men,	the	priests,	and	that	some	act.ua!	place
	of	their	own,	over	and	above	this	ideal	place,	was
	necessary.	This	the	fore	court	was."	Keil,	too,	is
	in	error	when	he	explains	the	fore	court	as	"	an
	image	of	the	dwelling	of	Israel	in	the	kingdom	of
	their	God."	The	holy	place	was,	as	already	no
	ticed,	a	compartment	in	the	dwelling-place	of	Je
	hovah,	the	forepart	thereof,	but	not	the	dwelling
	of	the	people,	and	the	fore	court	was	not	a	dwelling-
	place	at	all,	neither	of	the	people	nor	of	Jehovah,
	was	never	named	such,	but	was	only	the	assem
	bling-place	outside	of	Jehovah	s	dwelling,	a	mer3
	"	court	"	by	way	of	distinction,	and	in	contrast	with
	"the	house."	In	that	the	temple	had	two	fore
	courts	instead	of	one	originally	designed,	is	no
	proof	of	an	alteration	of	the	ground-plan,	but	is
	only	an	enlargement	of	it,	which	had	its	reason	in
	this	:	that	great	buildings,	especially	royal	palaces
	in	the	Orient,	were	distinguished	from	ordinary
	houses	by	more	forecourts	(comp.	1	Kings	vii.	1-
	12,	and	Symb.	des	Mos.	Kult.,	i.	s.	241	sq.).	Thence
	it	happened	especially	that,	near	the	tabernacle
	of	the	testimony,	which	stood	in	the	centre	of	the
	Israelitish	camp,	was	appointed	the	place	for	the
	priestly	tribe	(Numb.	ii.	and	iii.).	This	continued
	a	fixed	custom	when	the	"	camp	"	ceased	to	exist,;
	it	was	the	tribe	especially,	which	stood	"	nigh
	unto	"	Jehovah,	which	effected	the	intercourse	be
	tween	Him	and	the	people	(Exod.	xix.	22	;	Ezek.
	xlii.	13	;	Numb.	xvi.	5).	A	fixed	limit	to	the	ap
	pointed	space	was	judicious,	and	even	necessary,
	since	by	the	ordinances	of	David	individual	wor
	ship	had	greatly	increased,	and	this	greatly	ex
	panded	worship	was	confined	to	this	one	place	;
	by	these	means	it	became	possible	to	observe	cor
	rectly	the	ordinance,	and	duly	to	watch	over	the
	appointed	performance	of	the	holy	services.
	4.	The	significance	of	the	form	and	measurements
	of	the	temple,	which	stand	in	the	closest	relation	to
	the	ground-plan,	requires	us	to	conclude	therefrom
	that	they	can	be	explained	neither	upon	the	grounds
	of	outward	need	and	propriety,	nor	of	architect
	onic	beauty.	If	the	portion	which	constitutes	the
	core	and	centre	of	the	entire	structure,	the	pecu
	liar	dwelling	of	Jehovah,	the	holy	of	holies,	have
	the	form	of	a	perfect	cube,	as	ver.	20	expressly
	states,	a	form	characteristic	not	only	of	the	taber
	nacle,	but	also	of	Ezekiel	s	temple,	and	of	the
	apocalyptic	OKTjvri	TOV	&eov	(Ezek.	xli.	4	;	Rev.	xxi.
	16),	a	form	which	appears	neither	necessary	nor
	convenient,	nor	architecturally	beautiful,	while	at
	the	same	time	it	was	unmistakably	intentional	and
	not	accidental,	it	must	certainly	have	some	mean
	ing.	And	if	the	form	of	one	and	that	the	most
	important	division	of	the	building	were	significant,
	it	is	inconsequent	and	wilful	to	explain	the	equally
	striking	forms	and	measurements	of	the	remaining
	compartments	as	devoid	of	meaning.	To	this	we
	must	add	that,	although	the	forms	and	measure
	ments	of	a	house,	especially	of	a	palace,	are	not


264	CHURCH	SOCIETIES.
	Mrs.	Sherwood	writes	in	the	following	passages	:	"	The	con
	version	of	the	natives	and	the	building	up	of	the	kingdom
	of	Christ	were	the	great	objects	for	which	alone	that	child	of
	God	seemed	to	exist	then,	and,	in	fact,	for	which	he	died.	.	.	.
	Henry	Martyn	was	one	of	the	very	few	persons	I	ever	met	who
	appeared	never	to	be	drawn	away	from	one	leading	and	pre
	vailing	object	of	interest,	and	that	object	was	the	promotion
	of	religion.	He	did	not	appear	like	one	who	felt	the	necessity
	of	contending	with	the	world	and	denying	himself	its	delights,
	but	rather	as	one	who	was	unconscious	of	the	existence	of
	any	attractions	in	the	world,	or	of	any	delights	which	were
	worthy	of	his	notice."	But	then	she	goes	on	:	"	When	he
	relaxed	from	his	labours	in	the	presence	of	his	friends,	it
	was	to	play	and	laugh	like	an	innocent,	happy	child,	more
	especially	if	children	were	present	to	play	and	laugh	with
	him.	.	.	.	Mr.	Martyn	is	one	of	the	most	pleasing,	mild,	and
	heavenly-minded	men,	walking	in	this	turbulent	world	with
	peace	in	his	mind	and	charity	in	his	heart."	1	He	is	the
	fascinating	gentleman	as	well	as	the	saint.	He	presents	that
	curious	combination	which	we	have	noticed	in	many	others
	among	the	Evangelicals.	Look	at	him	from	one	side,	and	he
	appears	to	be	"	hampered	by	a	narrow	and	gloomy	spirit,
	made	morbid	by	incessant	self-introspection	and	a	dread	of
	everything	bright	and	cheerful."	2	Look	at	him	from	another,
	and	he	seems	to	have	a	bright,	sunny	nature,	tempered	and
	mellowed	rather	than	obscured	by	his	creed.	His	aspirations
	were	high	and	his	hopes	sanguine.	He	thought	that	the
	threefold	translation	of	the	Bible	into	Persian,	Arabic,	and
	Hindustani	would	be	"	the	downfall	of	Mohammedanism,"	if
	properly	done	;	and	it	was	to	the	Mohammedans	especially
	that	he	desired	to	make	the	gospel	known,	having	more	hope
	of	them	than	of	the	Hindus.	He	set	himself	to	the	work	of
	translation	;	completed	the	Hindustani	New	Testament	in
	1810,	lived	to	add	to	it	the	Arabic	and	Persian	versions,	and
	made	such	progress	in	the	Hindustani	Old	Testament	that
	his	work	has	proved	helpful	to	later	translators	;	all	this	was
	done	in	five	or	six	years,	in	the	midst	of	incessant	active
	1	See	the	Life	of	Mrs.	Sherwood	(chiefly	Autobiographical],	by	her	daughter,
	Sophia	Kellv,	pp.	339-341-
	2	See	Under	His	Banner,	by	H.	W.	Tucker,	p.	24.


THE	SEIGNEUR	45
	La	Mothe,	an	officer	of	the	Carignan	regi-
	ment,	the	sum	of	fifteen	hundred	livres	was
	given	on	his	marriage,	and	six	thousand
	livres	were	set	apart	for	other	officers	who
	were	prepared	to	follow	his	example.	1	More-
	over,	the	King	ordained	that	a	limited	number
	of	commissions	in	the	Royal	Navy	should
	be	given	to	the	sons	of	the	seigneurs,	of
	whom	others	were	to	be	enrolled	in	the	cadet
	companies	of	the	army.	But	the	severity
	of	the	climate	and	the	brevity	of	the	season
	for	cultivation	continued	to	make	the	state
	of	society	poor	and	the	life	of	the	seigneur
	irksome.	The	trade	with	the	Indians,	for-
	bidden	to	the	seigneurs,	seemed	to	offer
	an	easy	road	to	fortune.	For	these	reasons
	the	Governor,	the	Marquis	de	Denonville,
	sought	pecuniary	assistance	on	behalf	of
	St.	Ours	and	other	members	of	the	Canadian
	noblesse	whose	children,	having	no	other
	means	of	livelihood,	were	in	danger	of
	becoming	bandits.	2	Temporary	assistance	was
	1	Estat	de	la	depense.	.	.	.	March	26,	1669	(Archives	des
	Colonies,	B.	1,	p.	170	et	seg_.}.
	2	Denonville	to	the	Minister,	Nov.	10,	1686.	Archives	des
	Colonies,	C.	11,	I.	(Correspondance	Generale,	Canada,	vol.	viii.
	p.	232	of	transcripts	in	the	Public	Archives	of	Canada).


TAPE	GUIDE	-	John	B.	Cella,	II
	Interview	1:	November	18,	1985
	tape	1,	side	A
	tape	1,	side	B
	tape	2,	side	A
	tape	2,	side	B
	Interview	2:	January	15,	1986
	tape	3,	side	a
	tape	3,	side	b
	Interview	3:	February	11,	1986
	tape	4,	side	a
	tape	4,	side	b
	tape	5,	side	a
	70
	1
	1
	9
	18
	26
	28
	28
	37
	45
	45
	54
	62


CHAPTER	VIII
	CELTIC	ART	OF	THE	CHRISTIAN	PERIOD
	THE	LEADING	CHARACTERISTICS	OF	CELTIC	ART	OF	THE
	CHRISTIAN	PERIOD	IN	GREAT	BRITAIN,	AND	THE
	GENERAL	NATURE	OF	ITS	DECORATIVE	AND	SYM-
	BOLIC	ELEMENTS
	THE	leading	characteristics	of	Celtic	art	of	the
	Christian	period	are	as	follows	:
	(1)	The	prominence	given	to	the	margin	or	frame	within
	which	the	whole	design	is	enclosed.
	(2)	The	arrangement	of	the	design	within	the	margin	in
	panels,	each	containing	a	complete	piece	of	ornament.
	(3)	The	use	of	setting-out	lines	for	the	ornament,	placed
	diagonally	with	regard	to	the	margin.
	(4)	The	use	of	interlaced-work,	step-patterns,	key-patterns,
	spirals,	and	zoomorphs	in	combination.
	(5)	The	geometrical	perfection	of	all	the	ornament.
	(6)	The	superiority	of	the	decorative	designs	to	the	figure-
	drawing.
	There	are	in	the	world	two	distinct	schools	of	deco-
	rative	art,	one	which	entirely	ignores	the	shape	of	the
	surface	to	be	ornamented,	and	the	other	which	allows
	the	contour	of	the	margin	to	influence	the	whole	de-
	sign.	Japanese	art	belongs	to	the	first	of	these,	and
	Celtic	art	to	the	second.	In	the	Irish	illuminated
	254


196
	V.	Adams:
	Adams:
	V.	Adams:
	Adams:
	Better	enjoy	it	while	you	can.
	Teiser	:
	V.	Adams:
	Adams	:
	Yes.	An	unhappy	desert,
	there's	so	many	people,
	management.
	It's	very	serious.	But	that's	because
	But	who	wants	genocide?	I'd	rather	have
	Well,	can	you	think	of	anything	else	for	Santa	Fe?	Did	you	tell
	them	the	story	of	when	you	got	tight,	and	what	Mary	Austin	said?
	Oh	yes.	There	was	a	big	party	at	Witter	Bynner's	one	night,	and
	I	drove	Mary	Austin	over.	And	then	I	got	to	saying,	because	I	had
	some	consciousness	left,	"Well,	who's	going	to	get	Mary	Austin
	home?	I	can't	drive."	I	was	very	concerned	that	somebody	get
	Mary	Austin	home.
	The	next	morning	I	said,	"Well,	Mary,	I	guess	I	lost	my
	reputation	last	night."	And	she	said,	"You	certainly	did.	But
	you	lost	it	so	quickly	that	nobody	missed	it."	[Laughter]
	I	think	I	read	in	Mrs.	Newhall's	book	that	Ella	Young	was
	encouraging	you	to	continue	writing	poetry.
	Which	he	did.
	Oh	yes,	she	did.	Because	I	wrote	very	romantic	poetry,	and	then
	suddenly	burst	out	into	very	avant-garde	poetry,	and	then	quit.
	But	I	studied	a	great	deal	of	literature	and	I	was	pretty	good	on
	the	sonnet.
	Teiser:	You	write	good	prose	too.
	Adams:	Well,	I	never	should	be	known	as	a	poet.
	Teiser:	Did	Ella	Young	succeed	in	encouraging	you?	Did	you	write	more
	poetry	as	a	result	of	her	encouragement?
	Adams:	No.	She	said	I	looked	like	Yeats,	and	she	thought	I	could	write
	like	Yeats	not	to	look	like	him,	but	write	at	a	certain	level.
	But	that	was	not	something	which	was	accepted.	Well,	if	I	didn't
	have	music	and	photography,	who	knows?	I	might	have	done	a
	cookbook.	[Laughter]
	I	remember	one	time	coming	back	from	a	party	at	Witter	Bynner's
	very	late,	and	it	was	quite	a	party.	In	the	morning	I	go	out	and	I
	find	a	flat	tire,	and	I	open	the	trunk	of	the	little	Marmon	we	had,
	and	here	is	one	of	Bynner's	guests	all	curled	up	fast	asleep.	Of
	course,	somebody	'd	put	him	in	there	when	he	was	very	tight,	and	why
	he	didn't	suffocate	I	don't	know.	It	was	a	horrifying	experience
	to	see	this	body	in	this	trunk!	[Laughter]	I	pulled	him	out,	and	he
	was	breathing,	and	he	said,	"Where	am	I?"	I	said,	"Well	"


LIFE	OP	A	WANDERER.	237
	"Well,	I	will	tell	it	you,	but	I	warn	Octave	and
	Flora	not	to	interrupt	me	with	questions.
	When	I	was	a	young	man	I	knew	intimately	John
	Twickham,	the	owner	and	proprietor	of	the	Wood
	lands,	which	was	the	name	of	the	place	you	visited
	to-day.	He	was	handsome,	high-spirited,	and	the
	delight	of	all	his	young	acquaintances.	He	was	rich,
	and	as	both	of	his	parents	were	dead,	he	was	undis
	puted	possessor	of	all	their	wealth.	He	spent	his
	money	freely,	and	his	reckless	habits	soon	drew
	around	him	a	set	of	men	who	played	upon	his	weak
	nesses,	in	order	to	advance	their	own	interests.	He
	loved	wine,	and	soon	acquired	a	taste	for	brandy,	and
	while	under	the	influence	of	the	poisonous	cup,	he
	would	play	largely	and	lose	immense	sums.	Every
	body	said	that	Twickham	was	a	fine	fellow,	but	that
	he	was	going	to	ruin	headlong,	and	you	know	what
	every	body	says	must	be	true.	It	so	happened	in	this
	case,	however,	that	ruin	was	put	off	for	an	indefinite
	period	of	time	by	the	advent	of	a	new	personage	upon
	the	scene.	Emily	Vincent	was	the	only	daughter	of
	a	clergyman	who	lived	a	few	miles	from	the	Wood
	lands.	Her	beautiful	face,	slender	form,	modest
	manners,	and	affectionate	disposition,	made	a	deep
	impression	upon	the	mind	of	the	gay	Twickham.	He
	offered	her	his	hand,	promising,	if	she	accepted	him,
	never	again	to	touch	the	dangerous	chalice,	which	he
	knew,	though	wreathed	in	flowers,	to	be	laden	with
	death.	And	the	young,	innocent	creature	trusting	in
	21


101
	q,	slippery	places.
	flattering	speech,	cunning.
	kro-)	or	njpjpn
	ft)	pr.n.	of	a	town
	in	Asher.
	&lt;r.	ff/Qt	to	be	weak.
	feeble;	to	prostrate,	to
	overthrow.
	^?D	($&ll?	S)	m	weak,
	feeble.
	dm	m
	father-in-law.
	DH	(et)3m)	adj.	warm,	hot.
	On	(e|5m)	pr.n.m.	of	a	son
	of	Noah;	Egyptians	and
	Ethiopians.
	^m)	m	warmth,	heat.
	see
	curds,	cream,	butter.
	n,	to	de
	sire.	covet,	long	for.	pt.	p.
	desirable,	costly.	M	.	pt.
	desirable,	costly,	precious.
	Pi.l^n	to	feel	delight.
	$Wd)	m	pleasant
	ness,	loveliness.
	desire,	wish,	longing;
	object	of	desire;	loveliness,
	delight.
	TDn	see	"Tn	p	.	p.
	pr.n.m.
	*mm5	)	/,	w.*.	rian,
	warmth,	heat;	sun.
	)	/,	c.	npq,
	w.s.	^nan,	p^.	nlpn,	nbri,
	warmth,	heat,	anger,
	wrath;	prison.
	=	nx^n.
	*.	violent;
	robber.
	of	f3l-Q,	c	.	^oq,	deep
	red,	purple.
	pZ.	Dnq,	[male]	ass;
	heap,	load	==	"lh.
	Q	2	(^	a	mo	r)	pr.n.m.
	heap.
	mother-in-law.
	h	($	?	mgt)	m	lizard.
	^ymt5	)	pr.n.	of	a
	place	in	Judah.


MEDEENETHABOO.	289
	and	Romance	carry	away	specimens	of	famous	places	to
	their	museums,	but	Mammon	undertakes	the	making	of
	the	famous	place	itself	into	a	choice	cabinet,	they	may	be
	esteemed	happy	who	flourished	prior	to	that	period.
	And	it	is	pleasant	to	see	remains	so	surpassingly	re
	markable,	without	having	them	shown	by	a	seedy-coated,
	bad-hatted	fellow-creature	at	five	francs	a	day.	You	climb
	alone	to	Aboo	Simbel	in	that	serene	Southern	silence,	and
	half	fear	to	enter	the	awful	presence	of	the	Osiride	col
	umns,	or	to	penetrate	into	the	Adyta,	mysterious	to	you
	as	to	those	of	old,	and	you	donkey	quietly	with	'a	taciturn
	old	Time	over	the	plain	of	green	young	grain,	where	Thebes
	was,	and	feel	as	freshly	as	the	first	who	saw	it.
	But	these	things	will	come.	Egypt	must	soon	be	the	,
	favorite	ground	of	the	modern	Nimrod,	Travel	who	so
	tirelessly	hunts	antiquity.	After	Egypt,	other	lands	and
	ruins	are	young	and	scant	and	tame,	save	the	Parthenon
	and	Pestum.	Every	thing	invites	the	world	hither.
	It	will	come,	and	Thebes	will	be	cleaned	up	and	fenced
	in.	Steamers	will	leave	for	the	cataract,	where	donkeys
	will	be	in	readiness	to	convey	parties	to	Philse,	at	seven
	A.	M.	precisely,	touching	at	Esne	and	Edfoo.	Upon	the	Li
	byan	suburb	will	arise	the	Hotel	royal	au	Ramses	le	grand
	for	the	selectest	fashion.	There	will	be	the	Hotel	de	Mem-
	non	for	the	romantic,	the	Hotel	aux	Tombeaux	for	the	rev
	erend	clergy,	and	the	Pension	Re-ni-no-fre	upon	the	water
	side	for	the	invalides	and	sentimental	only	these	names
	will	then	be	English,	for	France	is	a	star	eclipsed	iri	the
	East.


EASTER	DAY
	Easter	Day	Morning.
	This	is	the	day	which	the	Lord	hath	made	;	we	will	rejoice	and	be	glad	in	it.
	PSALM	cxviii.	24.
	I.	T	T	7"E	have	two	reasons	to	rejoice	to-day	we	rejoice	both	for
	V	V	Christ	s	sake	and	for	our	own.	We	rejoice,	because	He
	whom	we	love,	He	who	loved	us,	and	died	for	love	of	us,	is	not	now
	dead,	but	alive	for	evermore,	Amen	;	and	again	we	rejoice,	because
	we	are	ourselves	alive	from	the	dead,	able	to	live	a	holy	life,	a	life	in
	God	s	presence,	like	the	life	which	He	lives	now.	Yet	these	two	reasons
	for	joy	are	one,	because	the	truth	is,	that	He	and	we	are	one.	We
	cannot	divide	the	joys	of	love,	and	say	how	far	we	rejoice	because
	He	whom	we	love	is	alive	and	blessed,	how	far	because	we	ourselves
	taste	the	joy	of	His	living	presence	;	love	does	not	admit	of	such
	minute	analysis;	it	consists	in	finding	our	own	blessedness	in	His,
	in	feeling	His	blessedness	to	be	our	own.	Still,	we	can	distinguish
	in	thought	and	word	what	cannot	be	separated	;	we	may	say	that	we
	rejoice	for	Jesus	sake	that	He	is	alive,	and	for	our	own	sake	that	we
	share	His	life.
	Or	rather,	we	may	put	it	the	other	way.	We	rejoice	for	our	own
	sake	that	Jesus	is	alive	;	we	rejoice	that	He	who	loves	us,	He	whom
	we	love	is	still	there	for	us	to	love,	still	actively	loving	us.	They
	who	mourn	for	the	dead	without	a	Christian	s	hope,	do	not	cease	to
	love	those	whom,	as	they	think,	they	have	lost	for	ever	;	but	they
	grieve	that	they	cannot	feel	their	love,	that	those	who	are	gone	are
	no	longer	able	to	love	them.	And	not	only	they,	but	ourselves	also,
	who	know	that	the	dead	are	still	alive,	that	the	holy	dead	do	not
	cease	to	love,	but	are	made	more	perfect	in	love	than	when	they	were
	with	us	even	we	also	mourn	that	love	cannot	reach	them,	that	we	can
	do	nothing	for	love	of	them	;	that	we	cannot	show	our	love	to	them	by
	acts	of	kindness,	and	perhaps	also	that	their	love	to	us	cannot	show
	itself	either,	so	that	unless	our	faith	be	very	strong	and	our	love	very
	spiritual	and	unselfish,	we	feel	less	consciousness	of	their	love	than	we
	would	or	than	we	ought.
	But	Jesus	not	only	is	alive	in	the	sense	that	our	departed	friends
	are,	but	in	every	sense	:	He	not	only	is	a	living	Soul,	but	is	alive
	both	in	Soul	ana	Body,	alive	and	working	with	all	the	powers	of	true
	God	and	true	Man.	We	can,	in	the	Spirit,	have	direct	intercourse
	with	Him	;	we	can	speak	to	Him	and	He	to	us	;	He	knows	all	our
	love	to	Him,	and	He	tells	us	all	that	we	can	comprehend	of	His	love
	to	us.	We	have	that	blessing	of	love	which	consists	in	unity	with
	the	beloved	in	unity	felt	and	realised,	in	the	consciousness	that	we
	130


GENERAL	INDEX
	289
	it,	150	;	influence	of	democracy
	upon,	151	;	introspection	and	feeble
	ness	of	modern	poetry,	158	;	not	to
	be	pursued	as	a	profession,	193	;
	character	of	profound	poetry,	252	;
	the	action	of	the	imagination	in,
	318	;	the	quality	of	vividness	of	ex
	pression	in,	3,	31	;	great	poets	and
	secondary	intellects	distinguished,
	37	;	schools	of	poetry,	38	;	the	office
	of	language	in,	46	;	the	supreme	func
	tion	of,	171	n	;	the	question	of	pla
	giarism	in,	299	;	Romanic	tendency
	to	the	scientific	treatment	of,	308	;
	does	not	spring	from	the	Anglo-
	Saxon	nature,	318	;	not	made	from
	the	understanding,	319	;	the	good
	fortune	of	early	poets,	335	;	artifice
	unsatisfactory,	4,	8	;	its	decline	un
	der	French	influence,	21	;	uncon-
	ventionality	essential,	22	;	influence
	of	character	in,	261	;	its	true	vital
	ity,	267	;	the	quality	of	nationality
	in,	270	;	description	in,	272	;	its	first
	duty	to	be	delightful,	273	;	the	con
	ception	of,	in	England,	in	16th	cen
	tury,	299	;	importance	of	diction	in,
	308	;	the	sensuous	and	the	sensual
	in,	317	;	value	of	abundance	in,	328	;
	the	question	of	matter	and	form,
	357	;	the	difference	between	Fact
	and	Truth,-	384	;	instructs	not	by
	precept,	but	by	suggestion,	6,	110	;
	also,	3,	128.	See	also,	American,
	Anglo-Norman,	Anglo-Saxon,	Eng
	lish,	French,	German,	Provencal,
	Romance,	Scotch,	Teutonic	poetry	;
	also,	Ballad	poetry;	Descriptive
	poetry	;	Dramatic	poetry	;	Epic	poe
	try	;	Moral	poetry	;	Narrative	poe
	try	;	Pastoral	poetry	;	Philosophical
	poetry	;	Religious	poetry	;	Roman
	tic	poetry	;	Sacred	poetry	;	Sonnet	;
	Troubadours	;	Trouveres.
	Emerson's	criticism	of,	1,	354	;	Ba
	con's	definition	of,	2,	156;	Lessing
	on	the	cultivation	of,	196	;	Dryden
	on	the	end	and	character	of,	3,	155	;
	Fauriel	on	prosaic	passages	in,	162	n	;
	Edw.	Phillips	on,	4,	2;	Voltaire
	makes	Difficulty	a	tenth	Muse,	8;
	Waller	on	care	in	writing,	14	;	Spen
	ser's	conception	of,	306;	Words
	worth's	theories	of,	382,	398,	406	;
	Sir	John	Harrington	on,	409.
	Poetry	and	prose,	18th	century	ideas
	of	their	relation,	1,	246	;	the	dis
	tinction	between	them,	2,	196,	226	;
	4,	330	;	danger	of	mixing	them,	3,
	144	;	Coleridge's	distinction,	4,
	384.
	Poggetto,	Cardinal,	4,	141.
	Police	in	Rome,	1,	216.
	Polish,	Waller	on,	4,	14.
	Political	dogmas	their	tendency	to
	become	dead	formulas,	5,	36.
	Political	economy,	humanity	its	most
	important	element,	6,	35	;	value	of
	the	study,	92	;	study	of,	177.
	Political	eloquence,	American,	5,	49,
	51.
	Political	evils,	the	cure	of,	3,	236.
	Political	machinery,	6,	183.
	Political	meetings,	6,	182.
	Political	office,	the	qualifications	fot
	3,	235.
	Political	parties,	6,	29	;	blind	to	vicious
	methods	employed	for	their	advan
	tage,	200.	See	also,	Party	govern
	ment.
	Political	speculations,	possible	value
	of,	3,	198.
	Political	thinker,	Burke	and	Milton,
	4,	81	;	effect	of	abstract	ideas	on.
	85.
	Political	wisdom	of	Burke,	2,	234.
	Politicians,	Steele	on,	3>	284.	Politi
	cians	and	statesmen,	4,	179;	not
	leaders	but	followers	of	public	sen
	timent,	5,	75	;	the	study	of	political
	economy	recommended	to,	6,	183	;
	object	to	the	scholar	in	politics,
	190	;	call	learned	men	pedants	and
	doctrinaires,	193	;	required	by	the
	system	of	party	government,	212	;
	engaged	with	the	local	eddies	of
	prejudice,	220.	See	also,	States
	men.
	Politics,	subordinate	to	poetry,	4,
	373	;	its	deepest	lesson	taught	by	a
	common	danger,	6,	46	;	difficulty	of
	forecasting	events,	125	;	men	taking
	the	place	of	principles,	132;	the
	qualities	necessary	for	success	in
	state-craft,	183	;	a	rigid	doctrinaire
	an	unsafe	politician,	189	;	success
	obtained	by	skill	in	taking	advan
	tage	of	circumstances,	189	;	a	sci
	ence	demanding	serious	application,
	193;	trifling	considerations	to	be
	taken	into	account,	196	;	loyalty	to
	great	ends,	not	obstinacy	in	preju
	dice	demanded,	196	;	importance	of
	public	opinion,	199	;	6,	34	;	cause
	and	effect	proportionate,	5,	204	;	the
	sense	of	personal	wrong	as	an	in
	terpreter	of	abstract	principles,	205	;
	equality	not	conferred	by	man,	237	;
	the	danger	of	accepting	an	easy	ex
	pedient	at	the	sacrifice	of	a	diffi
	cult	justice,	238	;	a	disproportionate
	value	set	upon	consistency,	266	;	na
	tional	opinions	move	slowly,	271	;
	the	secret	of	permanent	leadership
	to	know	how	to	be	moderate,	271	;
	homogeneousness	of	laws	and	insti
	tutions	necessary	to	strength,	281	;
	the	idea	of	government	precedes
	that	of	liberty,	282	;	party	managers,
	285	;	parties	as	the	ladders	of	am
	bitious	men,	293	;	politicians	and
	statesmen,	294	;	advantages	of	a	bold


80
	may	not	use	it	to	vaunt	ourselves,	or	to	make	snow	of	our	owr
	wisdom.	The	word	of	God	teaches	lowliness	of	mind	;	it
	teaches	us	to	know	ourselves.	If	we	learn	not	humility,	we
	learn	nothing.	Although	we	seem	to	know	somewhat,	yet
	we	know	not	in	such	sort	as	we	ought	to	know.
	The	scriptures	are	the	mysteries	of	God.	Let	us	not	be
	curious	;	let	us	not	seek	to	know	more	than	God	hath	re
	vealed	by	them.	They	are	the	sea	of	God	;	let	us	take
	heed	we	be	not	drowned	in	them.	They	are	the	fire	of	God	;
	let	us	take	comfort	by	their	heat,	and	warily	take	heed	they
	burn	us	not.	They	that	gaze	over-hardly	upon	the	sun,
	lake	blemish	in	their	eyesight.
	When	the	people	of	Israel	saw	the	manna	in	the	desert,
	they	said,	"	Man	hu?"	what	is	this?	So	they	reasoned	of
	it	when	they	took	it	up	in	their	hands,	and	beheld	it.	They
	asked	one	another	what	good	it	would	do.	THE	SCRIP
	TURES	are	manna,	given	to	us	from	heaven,	to	feed	us	in	the
	desert	of	this	world.	Let	us	take	them,	and	behold	them,
	and	reason	of	them,	and	learn	one	of	another	what	profit
	may	come	to	us	by	them.	Let	us	know	that	they	are	written
	for	our	sake,	and	for	our	learning,	that	through	patience	and
	comfort	of	the	scriptures	we	may	have	hope.	They	are	given
	us	to	instruct	us	in	faith,	to	strengthen	us	in	hope,	to	open
	our	eyes,	and	to	direct	our	going.
	If	we	withhold	the	truth	in	unrighteousness	;	if	we	know
	our	Master	s	will,	and	do	it	not	;	if	the	name	of	God	be	ill
	spoken	of	through	us	;	the	word	of	God	shall	be	taken	away
	from	us,	and	given	to	a	nation	which	shall	bring	forth	the
	fruits	thereof.	God	shall	send	us	strong	delusions,	that	we
	believe	lies	;	our	own	heart	shall	condemn	us,	we	shall	be	beaten
	with	many	stripes.	Therefore	we	ought	diligently	to	give	heed
	to	the	things	we	hear	;	we	must	consider	them,	we	must	chew
	the	cud.	Every	beast	that	cheweth	not	the	cud	is	unclean,
	Levit.	xi.	and	not	fit	for	the	sacrifice.	Let	us	be	poor	in
	spirit,	and	meek	in	heart	;	let	us	be	gentle,	as	becometh	the
	lambs	of	Christ,	and	as	his	sheep	;	let	us	hear	his	voice,	and
	follow	him	;	let	us	be	of	a	contrite	spirit,	and	tremble	at	the
	words	of	God	;	let	lu,	when	we	know	God,	glorify	him	as	God.
	So	shall	God	look	upon	us	;	so	shall	the	Spirit	of	wisdom,
	and	understanding,	and	of	counsel,	and	of	knowledge,	and
	of	the	fear	of	God,	rest	upon	us	;	so	shall	we	be	made	per
	fect	to	all	good	works	;	so	shall	we	rejoice	in	his	salvation,
	and	with	one	mouth	glorify	God,	even	the	Father	of	our
	Lord	Jesus	Christ.


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	Rev.	STEPHEN	MASON,	Pastor	First	Congregatioaal	Church,	Nantucket
	Rev.	OJUN	FOWLER,	'	.'	"Fall	River.
	GEORGE	W.	BETHUNE,	D.	D.,	Pastor	of	the	First	Reformed	Dutch	Church,	Philada.
	Rev.	tYMAN	BEECHER,	D.	D.,	Cincinnati,	Ohio.
	Rev	C.	D.	MALLORY,	Pastor	Baptist	Church,	August*,	Ga.
	Rer.	S.	M.	NOEL,	"	Frankfort,	Ky.
	Prom	the	Professors	at	Princeton	Theoloyical	Seminary.
	The	Comprehensive	Commentary	contains	the	whole	of	Henry's	Exposition	in	a	condensed	form,
	Scott's	Practical	Observations	and	Marginal	References,	and	a	large	number	of	very	valuable	philo
	logical	and	critical	notes,	selected	from	various	authors.	The	work	appears	to	be	executed	with
	judgment,	fidelity,	and	care	;	and	will	furnish	a	rich	treasure	of	scriptural	knowledge	to	th
	Biblical	student,	and	to	the	teachers	of	Sabbath-Schools	and	Bible	Classes.
	A.	ALEXANDER,	D.	D.
	SAMUEL	MILLER,	D.	D.
	CHARLES	HODGE,	D.	D.
	_


106	THE	REVELATION	OF	ST.	JOHN	[XVIII.	17-19.
	of	TOTTOV	into	TTOTOV,	i.e.	TTovTov.	At	all	events	Primasius	supports
	this	emendation	:	"	omnis	super	mare	navigans."
	oaoi	-rr]v	OdXaao-aK	Ipyd^ovTai,	"gain	their	living	by	the	sea"
	(R.V.),	lit.	"	work	the	sea."	This	is	good	classical	Greek.	Thus
	Hesiod	(Theog*	440)	has	ot	yXavKyv	Svo-Tre/A^eXof	epyaovTcu	:
	Dion.	Hal.	A.	iii.	46,	TYJV	avrrjv	eipya^ero	.	.	.	^aAacrcrav	:
	Appian,	Pun.,	p.	2,	ryv	OdXaa-a-av	.	.	.	epyao/xevoi.	For
	abundant	illustrations	of	this	idiom,	see	Wetstein	in	loc.	What
	the	Hebrew	equivalent	of	the	clause	is	is	uncertain	:	possibly
	D	a	rrnK	Dnnbn	=	"	who	trade	on	the	sea	"	:	cf.	Gen.	xxxiv.	10,	21,
	xlii.	34.	The	corresponding	phrase	epyaeo-#&lt;u	rrjv	yfjv	is	also
	good	Greek	and	likewise	good	Hebrew:	cf.	Gen.	ii.	5,	15,	iii.	23,
	iv.	2	;	but	the	verb	used	in	this	connection	*Dy	would	not	serve
	for	the	clause	in	our	text.
	diro	jjiaKpoOey	eorrjo-ay.	Cf.	IO,	15.
	18.	pXeiroi/TCS	rbv	Kcnrroi	TTJS	irupwaews	auTi]g.	This	is	the
	exact	equivalent	of	the	orav	.	.	.	avrr?9	clause	in	9.
	18-19.	The	last	clause	of	18	and	the	first	clause	of	19	are
	dependent	on	Ezek.	xxvii.	30-32.	Thus	TI	S	6/Wa	rfj	TroXet	rfj
	/xeyaX&gt;7	recalls	Ezekiel	s	words	with	regard	to	Tyre,	xxvii.	32,
	"who	is	like	unto	Tyre?"	Here	"itea	*	is	rendered	in	the
	LXX	by	TI	S	wo-Trep	Tvpos;	Next,	Z/3a\oi&gt;	^ow	eTrt	ras	Ke^aAa?
	avraii/	is	from	xxvii.	30,	"They	shall	cast	up	dust	upon	their
	heads	"	(Dn^KT^JJ	"iay	ty).	Here	the	LXX	presupposes	quite
	a	different	and	corrupt	text	(e7ri$^crowrij/	eirt	rryv	xe^aX^v	aurau/
	y^	Kat	o-TToSoi/	o-rpajo-oi/rat).	The	same	Hebrew	clause	is	found
	in	Josh.	vii.	6	and	Lam.	ii.	10.	In	the	former	passage	the	LXX
	renders	it	almost	as	in	our	text.	Even	e/cpaav	/cXatWrcs	*at
	7rei/0owTes	seems	to	be	suggested	by	Ezek.	xxvii.	30,	31,	"they
	shall	cry"	(LXX	KP&lt;WT&lt;H)	.	.	.	"they	shall	weep"	(LXX
	A	only	/cXavo-ovrat).	But	the	combination	KXouovres	/cai
	TTci/flowres	has	already	occurred	in	the	text	in	ii,	15.
	oua!	TJ	TroXis.	See	note	on	10.
	ir\ouTT]o-af.	Cf.	3,	15.
	f	K	TT]S	TljUllOTTJTOS	ttUTTJS	OTt	fUa	Wptt	^pT]JJLW0T]	f.	The	tCXt	is
	here	corrupt.	This	becomes	apparent,	if	we	compare	the	corre
	sponding	clauses	in	the	woes	pronounced	by	the	kings	in	10,
	ort	fjna	Mpa	r)\0v	f)	KptVts	aov,	and	by	the	merchants	in	16,	on
	fjiia	wpa	rjprj/jiutOr)	o	TOO-OVTOS	TrXovro?.	These	parallel	clauses	lead
	us	to	expect	a	definite	subject	to	be	added	after	r^p-rj^Or]	in	19
	as	there	is	after	the	verbs	in	10,	16.	Now	we	discover	in	the
	corrupt	phrase	CK	T^?	TI/XIOT^TOS	avrvjs,	the	subject	needed	for
	rjprj/jiuOr),	i.e.	f)	Tt/Atorr/s	avTrjs.	Thus	the	final	clause	of	the	text
	should	run	:	ort	/xta	wpa	ypy/jiwOr)	-YJ	ri/xtor^s	avr?}?.	Thus	this
	clause	is	brought	into	line	with	the	corresponding	clauses	in	10,


PART	II.	BOOK	4.
	The
	The
	And
	Lo,
	Still
	The
	AST	seen	the	battle	s	close	and	known
	the	march
	Of	swift	pursuer	?	Then	the	field
	behold	!
	road	is	cleared	of	weary	troops	who	bore
	brunt	of	battle	crowned	with	victory	;
	double	quick	the	fresh	reserves	press	on	!
	yonder	seen	and	now	concealed,	and	seen
	farther	on,	a	moment	only,	flies
	beaten	force.	Anon	the	farewell	shot


290	TWO	FAMILY	HISTORIES.
	Chinaman,	however,	has	been	noted	from	all	time	for	his	strict
	attention	to	the	main	chance	;	he	doesn't	let	the	grass	grow
	under	his	feet,	and	never	allows	a	good	thing	to	escape	him.	So,
	many	centuries	since,	he	domesticated	the	carp	and	passed	it	on
	by	transport	to	his	friends	and	neighbours.	At	an	early	date	the
	Oriental	stranger	was	naturalised	in	Germany	;	and	in	the	days
	of	James	I.	it	arrived	in	England.	Its	diffusion	by	human	hands
	is	facilitated	by	the	fact	that	it	can	live	for	many	weeks	at	a
	time	out	of	water,	especially	if	packed	in	moist	leaves	or	damp
	linen.	This	is	a	common	peculiarity	of	pond-haunting	fishes,
	for	ponds	are	always	liable	to	dry	up	in	summer,	and	the	fish
	which	inhabit	them	have	therefore	learnt	from	ancestral	expe-
	rience	to	bury	themselves	in	the	mud	while	the	drought	lasts,
	and	to	do	as	best	they	may	without	a	supply	of	water.	In	fact,
	existing	species	of	pond	fish	are	the	descendants	of	the	survivors
	which	have	thus	managed	to	escape	the	droughts	of	ages.	When
	packing	live	carp	for	transport	by	post,	some	authorities	recom-
	mend	placing	in	their	mouths	a	small	piece	of	bread,	well	steeped
	in	brandy	;	but	I	do	not	myself	approve	of	this	plan,	as	I	believe
	it	tends	to	encourage	the	fish	in	a	disastrous	love	for	ardent
	spirits.	The	eminently	respectable	Dutch,	on	the	other	hand,
	keep	carp	through	the	winter	hung	up	in	baskets,	but	feed	them
	on	a	blameless	course	of	bread	and	milk,	which	the	sternest
	moralist	could	not	fail	to	approve	of.
	Carp	are	mostly	herbivorous,	with	occasional	relapses	into	the
	vice	of	meat-eating.	They	feed	on	a	simple	diet	of	water	plants,
	just	varied	by	the	grubs	of	pond	insects,	small	snails,	and	earth-
	worms.	While	food	abounds	they	eat	for	dear	life	with	astound-
	ing	voracity	;	but	when	winter	comes	on	they	assemble	in	their
	millions,	or	as	near	it	as	they	can	get,	and	bury	themselves	in
	the	mud,	where	they	pass	several	months	in	a	fasting	condition.
	They	can	give	Succi	points,	indeed,	and	beat	him	by	six	weeks	or
	so.	The	carp	is	also	a	very	domestic	animal.	His	wife	lays	half-
	a-million	eggs	at	a	birth,	the	vast	majority	of	which,	however,	are
	cut	off	in	early	youth	by	the	enemies	of	their	species.	But	what
	parent	can	be	expected	to	look	adequately	after	a	family	of	five
	hundred	thousand	?	The	weight	of	responsibility	is	too	minutely
	sub-divided,	and	accidents	carry	off	ninety-nine	per	cent,	as	infant
	mortality.	The	few	survivors	grow,	in	favourable	circumstances,
	to	an	enormous	size.	Dr.	Giinther	mentions,	with	some	just
	reserve,	the	case	of	a	carp	which	was	caught	in	Germany,	and


140	JEFFERSON'S	WORKS.
	decisions	of	the	majority,	and	the	nation	moves	in	mass	in	the
	same	direction,	although	it	may	not	be	that	which	every	individ-
	ual	thinks	best,	we	have	nothing	to	fear	from	any	quarter.
	I	thank	you	sincerely	for	your	kind	wishes	for	my	welfare,
	and	with	equal	sincerity	implore	the	favor	of	a	protecting	Provi-
	dence	for	yourselves.
	TO	TABER	FITCH,	ESQ.,	CHAIRMAN.
	WASHINGTON,	November	21,	1808.
	SIR,	I	have	received	with	great	pleasure	the	address	of	the
	republicans	of	the	State	of	Connecticut,	and	am	particularly	sen-
	sible	of	the	kindness	with	which	they	have	viewed	my	conduct
	in	the	direction	of	their	affairs.	Having	myself	highly	approved
	the	example	of	an	illustrious	predecessor,	in	voluntarily	retiring
	from	a	trust,	which,	if	too	long	continued	in	the	same	hands,
	might	become	a	subject	of	reasonable	uneasiness	and	apprehen-
	sion,	I	could	not	mistake	my	own	duty	when	placed	in	a	similar
	situation.
	Our	experience	so	far,	has	satisfactorily	manifested	the	compe-
	tence	of	a	republican	government	to	maintain	and	promote	the
	best	interests	of	its	citizens	;	and	every	future	year,	I	doubt	not,
	will	contribute	to	settle	a	question	on	which	reason,	and	a	knowl-
	edge	of	the	character	and	circumstances	of	our	fellow	citizens,
	could	never	admit	a	doubt,	and	much	less	condemn	them	as	fit
	subjects	to	be	consigned	to	the	dominion	of	wealth	and	force.
	Although	under	the	pressure	of	serious	evils	at	this	moment,	the
	governments	of	the	other	hemisphere	cannot	boast	a	more	favor-
	able	situation.	We	certainly	do	not	wish	to	exchange	our	diffi-
	culties	for	the	sanguinary	distresses	of	our	fellow	men	beyond
	the	water.	In	a	state	of	the	world	unparalleled	in	times	past,
	and	never	again	to	be	expected,	according	to	human	probabili-
	ties,	no	form	of	government	has,	so	far,	better	shielded	its	citi-
	zens	from	the	prevailing	afflictions.	By	withdrawing	awhile
	from	the	ocean	we	have	suffered	some	loss	;	but	we	have	gathered
	home	our	immense	capital.	Exposed	to	foreign	depredation,	we


of	Sir	William	More	of	Loseley	in	Surrey.	301
	Itm.	to	Mychaell	the	lyme	burn	9	,	for	hymself,	after	vij	d.	the	daye	and	vij	d.	the	nyght	;	his	man
	iiijd.	the	daye	and	ijd.	the	nyght,	for	Ivj	dayes	and	xij.	nyghts,	betwen	theym	xxxiij	s.	viij	d.
	Itm.	theyre	meate	and	drynke	durynge	that	tyme,	after	v	d.	the	daye	.	.	xxiij	s.	iiij	d.
	My	charges	from	the	xvjth	daye	of	August	untyll	the	xxiiij	th	of	Decembre	1562.
	ffyrste	to	Shameler	the	carpenter,	for	iiij"	xv.	dayes,	after	viij	d.	the	daye	.	iij	li.	iij	s.	iiij	d.
	Itm.	to	his	sonne	for	iiij"	xvij.	dayes,	after	vj	d.	the	daye	.	.	.	xlviij	s.	vj	d.
	Itm.	to	Shameler's	boye,	for	xij.	dayes,	after	iij	d.	the	daye	.	.	.	iij	s.
	Itm.	to	old	Beldam,	for	iiij"	iij	dayes,	after	v	d.	the	daye	.	.	.	xxxiiij	s.	vij	d.
	Itm.	to	yonge	Beldam,	for	iiij"	iiij	or	dayes,	after	vj	d.	the	daye	.	.	xlij	s.
	Itm.	to	George	Yodes,	for	xxxviij.	dayes,	after	vj	d.	the	daye	....	xixs.
	Itm.	to	an	other	carpynter	for	xiiij.	dayes,	after	vj	d.	the	daye	.	.	.	vij	s.
	Itm.	theyre	meate	for	iiij	c	xxiij.	dayes,	after	v	d.	the	day	amongst	theym	apece	viij	li.	xvj	s.	iij	d.
	Sm	a	xix	li.	xiij	s.	viij	J.
	Itm.	to	too	sawyers	for	xv.	dayes	the	pece,	after	xj	d.	the	day	between	theym	.	xiij	s.	ix	d.
	Itm.	theyre	meate	and	drynke	for	xxx.	dayes	betwene	theym,	after	v	d.	the	daye	xij	s.	vj	d.
	Sm	a	xxvj.	iij	d.
	Itm.	to	Mabbanke	the	ffreemason,	for	iiij"	xij.	dayes,	after	xij	d.	the	daye	iij	li.	xvj	s.	viij	d.
	Itm.	to	hym,	for	xvj.	dayes	more,	after	the	rate	aforesayd	.	.	.	xiij	s.	iiij	d.
	Itm.	to	hym,	for	his	man,	after	v	d.	the	daye,	for	iiij"	xviij.	dayes	.	.	.	xl	s.	x	d.
	Itm.	to	hym,	for	vj	dayes,	after	the	sayd	rate	.	.	.	.	.	.	ijs.	vjd.
	Itm.	to	Wyfolde,	a	ffreemason,	after	ix	d.	the	daye,	for	Ix.	dayes	.	.	.	xlv	s.
	Itm.	to	Andro	Dyrrke,	brykleyer,	after	viij	d.	the	daye,	for	xlij.	dayes	.	.	.	xxviij	s.
	Itm.	to	Rychard	Dyrryke,	brykleyer,	after	viij	d.	the	daye,	for	xvj.	dayes	.	xs.	viij	d.
	Km.	to	Mabbanke	the	brykleyer,	after	vj	d.	the	daye,	for	Ixxv.	dayes	.	.	xxxvij	s.	vj	d.
	Itm.	Robt.	Crawks,	brykleyer	and	tyler,	after	vij	d.	the	daye,	for	xxx.	dayes	.	xvij	s.	vj	d.
	Itm.	to	Chetey,	brykleyer,	after	vj	d.	the	daye,	for	vj.	dayes	.	.	.	iij	s.
	Itm	to	Hoke,	brykleyre,	after	vj	d.	the	daye,	for	vj.	dayes	.	.	.	iij	s.
	Itm.	to	Boylet,	tylere,	after	vj	d.	the	daye,	for	xxxiiij.	dayes,	in	tylynge	and	stone	leynge	xvij	s.
	Itm.	to	Cowpere,	after	vj.	the	daye,	for	x.	dayes	....	vs.
	Itm.	to	one	other	stone	leyere	for	x.	dayes,	after	v	d.	the	day	.	.	.	iiij	s.	ij	d.
	Itm.	the	meate	and	drynke	for	all	the	sayd	Masons	for	V	and	j.	daye	amongst	theym,	after	v	d.
	the	daye	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	x	li.	viij	s.	ix	d.
	Sm*	xxv	li.	xij	s.	xj	d.
	Itm.	to	viij.	laborers,	after	iiij	d.	the	daye	apece,	for	iiij	c	xlij.	dayes	.	.	vij	li.	vij	s.	iiij	d.
	Itm.	to	a	boyc,	after	xvj	d.	the	weeke	for	xxviij.	dayes	.	.	.	.	.	vj	s.	ij	d.
	Itm.	to	one	other	laborer,	after	iij	d.	the	daye	for	xiiij.	dayes	.	.iij	s.	vj	d.
	Itm.	the	meate	and	drynke	for	all	the	sayd	laborers	for	iiij	iiij	1	iiij	or	dayes	amongst	theym,	after
	v	d.	the	daye	apece	.	.	.	.	.	.	.	x	li.	xx	d.
	Sm	a	xvij	li.	xviij	s.	viij	d.
	Itm.	to	Dorye	the	stone	dyggere,	after	xd.	the	daye,	for	xxxiij.	dayes	dyggynge	of	stone
	and	chalke	......	.	xxvij	s.	vj	d.
	2u2


.at.	A	central	theme	of	my	life	is
	consistency.	Friends	have	suggested
	that	I	have	an	'irrational	passion	for
	rationality	and	consistency.'	I	don't
	consider	it	irrational,	but	1	certainly
	do	have	a	passion	for	consistency
	or	a	contempt	for	hypocrisy.	I	feel	1
	cannot	condemn	(ho	hypocrisy	of
	politicians,	diplomats,	doctors,	sclf-
	appomleil	radicals	;in<l	librr.ils	and
	conservatives	if	I	am	myself	thai
	way."
	A	few	days	later.	Fort	and	I	con
	tinued	the	conversation	over	one	of
	his	semi-approved	drugs	coffee	in
	his	home	in	El	Cerrito.	in	the	steep
	hills	back	of	Berkeley.	The	secluded
	glass-walled	and	timbered	home
	sprawls	down	a	hillside,	with	the
	cool,	bookstrewn	living	room	looking
	out	through	fir	and	eucalyptus	trees
	across	San	Francisco	Bay	toward	the
	Golden	Gate	Bridge.	Fort	had	asked
	me	to	breakfast	with	him	and	his
	Hungarian-born	wife.	Maria,	whom
	he	met	on	a	blind	date	while	she	was
	a	student	at	Western	Reserve.	Over
	bacon,	coddled	eggs	and	homemade
	Hungarian	pastries,	we	discussed	the
	addictive	aspects	of	food.	Maria	Fort
	keeps	a	wall	full	of	cookbooks	of
	every	nationality	and	specialty,	and
	talks	knowledgeably	about	the	most
	abstruse	parts	of	cuisine.	I	asked	Fort
	how	he	could	cope	with	gourmet
	cooking:	wasn't	he	tempted	to	overin
	dulge.?	He	replied	that	he	had	nothing
	against	pleasure	and	later,	when	I
	asked	whether	she	cooked	with	wine
	how	did	that	square	with	teetotal-
	ism?	he	said.	"Most	of	it	burns	off
	in	the	cooking,	and	I	think	it	would
	be	fanatical	to	ask	someone	to	change
	their	cooking	patterns	on	the	basis	of
	alcohol	use."	Finally,	when	I	timo
	rously	and	apologetically	asked	if	I
	might	have	a	second	cup	of	coffeo,
	this	being	a	drug	to	which	I	am	in
	curably	addicted,	I	brought	down	the
	house.	"Don't	expect	me	to	be	such	a
	moralist.	"he	said.
	At	a	time	when	the	American
	family	is	supposedly	in	a	state	of	col
	lapse.	Fort's	relationship	with	family
	and	home	can	only	he	described	as
	quarc.	He	calls	it	"the	major	source
	of	my	self-renewal,"	and	spends	more
	lhan	half	his	time	at	home,	reading,
	writing	and	sunbathing	"That's	a
	real	turn-on	for	mo."	lie	is	remark
	ably	Hired	about	the	subject	of	sex:
	whr-n	1	asked	him	his	favorite	recrea
	tion,	without	hesitation	he	said
	"l.ov(;-making."	and	he	put	in	sec
	ond	place.	"Interpersonal	relation
	ships	with	my	family."	Third,	he	said,
	was	reading.	Ho	goes	through	three
	books	a	wn'k,	and	lately	has	been
	working	on	Ale.ksandr	Snlzhnitsyn.
	whose	courage	in	the	face	of	commu
	nist	bureaucracy	hn	greatly	admires.
	Fort	and	wife,	Mario,	in	San	Francisco.
	Still.	Fort	is	increasingly	time-
	pressed,	and	one	of	the	few	times	I
	saw	him	show	emotion	was	when	he
	discussed	the	time	ho	wasted	driving
	to	and	waiting	at	airports.	"Fort's
	Law."	he	said	once,	"is	thai	limn	ex-
	pands	according	to	what	you're	moti
	vated	to	do	with	it.	I've	tried	to
	arrange	my	life	so	that	my	work	and
	my	leisure	are	the	same.	I've	twice
	sacrificed	high-paying	government
	jobs	in	order	to	reach	more	people,
	and	I've	spent	more	of	my	time	fol
	lowing	my	own	inner	directedness.	1
	feel	that's	what	more	people	should
	be	doing.
	"The	positive	side	of	what	I	be
	lieve."	he	said,	"is	that	there	can	be	a
	brick-by-brick	rebuilding	of	society.
	It's	individuals	who	change	societies
	not	committees,	not	bureaucracies,
	not	politicians.
	"I	believe	in	the	Socratic	injunc
	tion.	'Let	him	who	would	change	the
	world	first	change	himself.'	I	point
	out	that	we	have	the	greatest	access
	to	institutions	that	we're	a	part	of
	our	own	family,	the	schools	where
	we're	students	or	where	we	leach,
	the	agency	or	organization	where	we
	work,	whether	it's	private	or	public.
	the	organizations	or	service	clubs	wr
	belong	to.	The	proper	way	of	rebuild
	ing	society	begins	with	the	place
	"Fort	has	received	little
	credit	from	colleagues,
	perhaps	because	he	was
	right	before	they	were	."
	where	you're	at.	and	humanizing	the
	process	in	your	own	school	or	class
	room.	As	enough	people	do	that,
	neighborhoods	are	rebuilt	and	cities
	are	rrliuill	and	the	society	is	rebuilt
	It's	from	the	lintlom	upwards	that	so
	ciety	is	i:h:nv:eil.	licit	from	the	top
	down
	"There	:ir<-	very	few	people	encronr-
	ajjing	olliers	in	<mr	soeiely	in	.1	wav
	that	increases	fhrir	sell-esleom.	The
	muss	media	disi	oiirage	them	through
	their	worship	of	the	cull	of	person
	ality.	Ralph	Nader	I	see	as	a	glaring
	example.	The	more	it	comes	to	seem
	that	you	have	to	he	a	totally	unique
	individual,	if	not	a	fanatic,	lo	achieve
	anything,	the	more	other	people	think
	they	can't	do	anything.	I	think	we
	have	lo	go	to	great	pains	to	dispel	the
	idea,	to	leach	people	not	to	equate
	publicity	with	human	worth.	A	great
	number	of	people	are	doing	significant
	things	that	don't	get	any	kind	nf
	recognition.
	"There's	a	statement	attributed	to
	Buddha	lh.il	1	think	illustrates	my
	philosophy	very	well.	Asked	if	he
	were	a	god	or	an	anpel.	or	if	he	were
	some	oilier	mayiral	or	mystical	tiling.
	Huddh.-i	replied.	'I'm	not	a	god.	I	am
	not	iin	aiujel.	I	;ini	awake.	4	I	think
	that's	a	very	liemiliful	statement.	\Ve
	should	work	toward	awakening
	everybody	to	their	own	potential,
	their	own	Ability	lo	revitalize	the	in
	stitutions	they're	a	part	of.	including
	their	own	family.	That's	the	way	to
	change	society,	and	to	take	society
	beyond	drugs."	-B
	Fort	draws	his	cnmera	and	retaliates.


WALTER	SAVAGE	LANDOR
	ii
	Walk'd	off	?	'T	were	most	ungrateful	:	for
	sweet	scents
	Are	the	swift	vehicles	of	still	sweeter
	thoughts,
	And	nurse	and	pillow	the	dull	memory
	That	would	let	drop	without	them	her	best
	stores.
	They	bring	me	tales	of	youth	and	tones	of
	love,
	\nd	?	t	is	and	ever	was	my	wish	and	way
	To	let	all	flowers	live	freely,	and	all	die
	(Whene'er	their	Genius	bids	their	souls
	depart)
	Among	their	kindred	in	their	native	place.
	I	never	pluck	the	rose	;	the	violet's	head
	Hath	shaken	with	my	breath	upon	its	bank
	And	not	reproach'd	me	;	the	ever-sacred
	cup
	Of	the	pure	lily	hath	between	my	hands
	Felt	safe,	unsoil'd,	nor	lost	one	grain	of	gold.
	I	saw	the	light	that	made	the	glossy	leaves
	More	glossy	;	the	fair	arm,	the	fairer	cheek
	Wann'd	by	the	eye	intent	on	its	pursuit	;
	I	saw	the	foot	that,	although	half-erect
	From	its	gray	slipper,	could	not	lift	her	up
	To	what	she	wanted	:	I	held	down	a	branch
	And	gather'd	her	some	blossoms	;	since
	their	hour
	Was	come,	and	bees	had	wounded	them,
	and	flies
	Of	harder	wing	were	working	their	way
	through
	And	scattering	them	in	fragments	under
	foot.
	So	crisp	were	some,	they	rattled	unevolv'd,
	Others,	ere	broken	off,	fell	into	shells,
	Unbending,	brittle,	lucid,	white	like	snow,
	And	like	snow	not	seen	through,	by	eye	or
	sun	:
	Yet	every	one	her	gown	receiv'd	from	me
	Was	fairer	than	the	first.	I	thought	not	so,
	But	so	she	prais'd	them	to	reward	my	care.
	I	said,	"	You	find	the	largest."
	"	This	indeed,"
	Cried	she,	"	is	large	and	sweet."	She	held
	one	forth,
	Whether	for	me	to	look	at	or	to	take
	She	knew	not,	nor	did	I	;	but	taking	it
	Would	best	have	solv'd	(and	this	she	felt)
	her	doubt.
	I	dar'd	not	touch	it	;	for	it	seem'd	a	part
	Of	her	own	self	;	fresh,	full,	the	most
	mature
	Of	blossoms,	yet	a	blossom	;	with	a	touch
	To	fall,	and	yet	unfallen.	She	drew	back
	The	boon	she	tendered,	and	then,	finding	not
	The	ribbon	at	her	waist	to	fix	it	in,
	Dropp'd	it,	as	loth	to	drop	it,	on	the	rest.
	FAREWELL	TO	ITALY
	I	LEAVE	thee,	beauteous	Italy	!	no	more
	From	the	high	terraces,	at	even-tide,
	To	look	supine	into	thy	depths	of	sky,
	Thy	golden	moon	between	the	cliff	and	me,
	Or	thy	dark	spires	of	fretted	cypresses
	Bordering	the	channel	of	the	milky	way.
	Fiesole	and	Valdarno	must	be	dreams
	Hereafter,	and	my	own	lost	Affrico
	Murmur	to	me	but	in	the	poet's	song.
	I	did	believe	(what	have	I	not	believ'd?),
	Weary	with	age,	but	unoppress'd	by	pain,
	To	close	in	thy	soft	clime	my	quiet	day
	And	rest	my	bones	in	the	mimosa's	shade.
	Hope	!	Hope	!	few	ever	cherish'd	thee	so
	little	;
	Few	are	the	heads	thou	hast	so	rarely	rais'd	;
	But	thou	didst	promise	this,	and	all	was
	well.
	For	we	are	fond	of	thinking	where	to	lie
	When	every	pulse	hath	ceas'd,	when	the
	lone	heart
	Can	lift	no	aspiration	reasoning
	As	if	the	sight	were	unimpair'd	by	death,
	Were	unobstructed	by	the	coffin-lid,
	And	the	sun	cheer'd	corruption	!	Over	all
	The	smiles	of	Nature	shed	a	potent	charm,
	And	light	us	to	our	chamber	at	the	grave.
	THE	MAID'S	LAMENT
	ELIZABETHAN
	I	LOV'D	him	not	;	and	yet	now	he	is	gone
	I	feel	I	am	alone.
	I	check'd	him	while	he	spoke	;	yet	could
	he	speak,
	Alas	!	I	would	not	check.
	For	reasons	not	to	love	him	once	I	sought,
	And	wearied	all	my	thought
	To	vex	myself	and	him	:	I	now	would	give
	My	love,	could	he	but	live
	Who	lately	liv'd	for	me,	and	when	he	found
	'T	was	vain,	in	holy	ground
	He	hid	his	face	amid	the	shades	of	death,
	I	waste	for	him	my	breath


WILLIAM	MORRlfe
	411
	So	tln'v	spake,	and	their	hearts	were	heavy,
	and	they	long'd	for	the	morrow
	morn,
	And	the	morrow	of	to-morrow,	and	the	new
	day	yet	to	be	born.
	But	Brynhild	cried	to	her	maidens	:	"	Now
	open	ark	and	chest,
	And	draw	forth	queenly	raiment	of	the
	loveliest	and	the	best,
	Red	things	that	the	Dwarf-lords	fashion'd,
	fair	cloths	that	queens	have	sew'd
	To	array	the	bride	for	the	mighty,	and	the
	traveller	for	the	road."
	They	wept	as	they	wrought	her	bidding
	and	did	on	her	goodliest	gear	;
	But	she	laugh'd	mid	the	dainty	linen,	and
	the	gold-rings	fashion'd	fair	:
	She	arose	from	the	bed	of	the	Niblungs,
	and	her	face	no	more	was	wan	;
	As	a	star	in	the	dawn-tide	heavens,	mid	the
	dusky	house	she	shone	;
	And	they	that	stood	about	her,	their	hearts
	were	rais'd	aloft
	Amid	their	fear	and	wonder	:	then	she
	spake	them	kind	and	soft	:
	"Now	give	me	the	sword,	O	maidens,
	wherewith	I	shear'd	the	wind
	When	the	Kings	of	Earth	were	gather'd	to
	know	the	Chooser's	mind."
	All	sheath'd	the	maidens	brought	it,	and
	fear'd	the	hidden	blade,
	But	the	naked	blue-white	edges	across	her
	knees	she	laid,
	And	spake	:	"	The	heap'd-up	riches,	the
	gear	my	fathers	left,
	All	dear-bought	woven	wonders,	all	rings
	from	battle	reft,
	All	goods	of	men	desired,	now	strew
	them	on	the	floor,
	And	so	share	among	you,	maidens,	the
	gifts	of	Brynhild's	store."
	They	brought	them	mid	their	weeping,	but
	none	put	forth	a	hand
	To	take	that	wealth	desired,	the	spoils	of
	many	a	land	:
	There	they	stand	and	weep	before	her,	and
	some	are	mov'd	to	speech,
	And	they	cast	their	arms	about	her	and
	strive	with	her,	and	beseech
	That	she	look	on	her	lov'd-ones*	sorrow
	and	the	glory	of	the	day.
	It	was	nought	;	she	scarce	might	see
	them,	and	she	put	their	hand*
	away,
	And	she	said	:	"	Peace,	ye	that	love
	me	!	and	take	the	gifts	and	the
	gold
	In	remembrance	of	my	fathers	and	the
	faithful	deeds	of	old."
	Then	she	spake	:	"	Where	now	is	Gunnar,
	that	I	may	speak	with	him	?
	For	new	things	are	mine	eyes	behold
	ing,	and	the	Niblung	house	grows
	dim,
	And	new	sounds	gather	about	me,	that
	may	hinder	me	to	speak
	When	the	breath	is	near	to	flitting,	and
	the	voice	is	waxen	weak.	"
	Then	upright	by	the	bed	of	the	Niblungs
	for	a	moment	doth	she	stand,
	And	the	blade	flasheth	bright	in	the	cham
	ber,	but	no	more	they	hinder	her
	hand
	Than	if	a	God	were	smiting	to	rend	the
	world	in	two	:
	Then	dull'd	are	the	glittering	edges,	and
	the	bitter	point	cleaves	through
	The	breast	of	the	all-wise	Brynhild,	and
	her	feet	from	the	pavement	fail,
	And	the	sigh	of	her	heart	is	hearken'd	mid
	the	hush	of	the	maidens'	wail.
	Chill,	deep	is	the	fear	upon	them,	but	they
	bring	her	aback	to	the	bed,
	And	her	hand	is	yet	on	the	hilt,	and	side
	long	droopeth	her	head.
	Then	there	cometh	a	cry	from	without-
	ward,	and	Gunnar's	hurrying	feet
	Are	swift	on	the	kingly	threshold,	and
	Brynhild's	blood	they	meet.
	Low	down	o'er	the	bed	he	hangeth	and
	hearkeneth	for	her	word,
	And	her	heavy	lids	are	open'd	to	look	on
	the	Niblung	lord,
	And	she	saith	:	"	I	pray	thee	a	prayer,	the
	last	word	in	the	world	I	speak,
	That	ye	bear	me	forth	to	Sigurd,	and	the
	hand	my	hand	would	seek	;
	The	bale	for	the	dead	is	builded,	it	is
	wrought	full	wide	on	the	plain,
	It	is	rais'd	for	Earth's	best	Helper,	and
	thereon	is	room	for	twain	:


118	TO	THE	PORTRAIT	OF	"	A	GENTLEMAN."
	And	if,	some	pleasant	afternoon,
	You	'11	ask	me	out	to	ride,
	The	whole	of	the	story	I	will	tell,
	And	you	shall	see	where	the	puddings	fell,
	And	pay	for	the	punch	beside.
	TO
	THE	PORTRAIT	OF	"A	GENTLEMAN."
	IN	THE	ATHENJ2UM	GALLERY.
	IT	may	be	so,	perhaps	thou	hast
	A	warm	and	loving	heart	;
	I	will	not	blame	thee	for	thy	face,
	Poor	devil	as	thou	art.
	That	thing,	thou	fondly	deem'st	a	nose,
	Unsightly	though	it	be,
	In	spite	of	all	the	cold	world's	scorn,
	It	may	be	much	to	thee.


A	CONFUSION	OF	PLANES.	207
	selves	are	reverenced	and	admired	because	they	are	the	highest
	symbols	we	have	on	earth	of	that	Divine	Mind	of	which	they
	are	the	temporary	embodiment	that	Divine	Mind	to	which	ah	1
	civilization	and	progress	is	the	struggle	to	more	and	more
	nearly	approximate.	It	is	this	Divine	Mind	which	is	the
	secret	magnet	and	centre	of	attraction	for	human	souls,	and	not
	the	passing	human	forms	in	which	it	is	housed	and	lodged	for	a
	season.	So	that,	instead	of	Humanity	being,	as	Comte	believed,
	the	true	object	of	Religion,	because	our	religious	feelings	find
	in	human	beings	appropriate	objects	for	their	satisfaction,	our
	religious	feelings,	on	the	contrary,	are	called	forth	by	Humanity,
	because	human	beings	are	the	symbols	of	that	Divine	Cause
	which	is	the	only	true	object	of	the	religious	sentiment.	It	is
	quite	true,	as	Comte	contends,	that	the	object	of	Eeligion	must
	be	a	being	endowed	with	attributes	that	can	call	forth	rever
	ence,	admiration	and	love	;	but,	unless	the	intuitions	of	ah	1
	ages	are	a	mistake,	that	object	cannot	be	any	being	like	our
	selves,	or	aggregate	of	beings	caUed	Humanity,	but	must	be
	that	great	Power	in	whom	we	and	all	other	beings	have	our
	roots,	that	invisible	Spring	of	Light	and	Life	in	whom	we	are
	bound	to	believe,	but	whose	effects	alone	we	are	permitted
	to	see.
	And	lastly,	if	we	cannot	logically	make	Humanity	the
	object	of	Religion,	neither	can	we	make	it	practically	the
	object	of	human	worship.	Now,	it	must	be	remembered	in
	this	connexion	that	it	was	on	the	enthusiasm	which	Humanity
	was	expected	to	inspire,	when	elevated	into	an	object	of
	worship,	that	Comte	relied,	to	counteract	those	selfish	instincts
	of	human	nature	which	are	naturally	so	much	stronger	than	the
	moral	impulses.	To	excite	the	enthusiasm	necessary	to	make	a
	man	forget	his	own	petty	interests,	an	object	must	not	only	be
	believed	to	be	a	true	object,	but	must	also	have	the	power	of
	kindling	the	imagination,	or	that	side	of	our	nature	which
	responds	to	the	infinite,	the	intangible,	the	unlimited.	A
	woman,	for	example,	may	have	all	the	virtues,	and	may


do	Ria	Grande	do	Sul.	S4J
	contra	elles	he	a	vigilância	dos	pastores	,	e	tam»^
	bem	contra	os	urubus	,	que	sam	numerozissimos	,
	e	tiram	os	ollios	aos	cordeirinhos	recemnascidos.
	Entr'outras	espécies	de	pássaros	conhecem-se
	macúcos	,	papagayos	,	carões	,	anhumas	,	sdcos	,
	tayuyús	,	jaburus	,	garças	,	jaciis	,	arapongas	,	mu-
	tuns	,	tucanos	,	codornizes.	Nas	lagoas	navegam
	nnmerozas	frotas	de	marrecos	,	e	patos	-arminhos
	grandes	,	e	brancos	de	todo	como	cysaes	,	outros
	com	o	pescoço	negro	,	cuja	pelle	depennada	fica
	cuberta	d'	Iiuma	lanugein	comprida	,	basta,	e	al-
	víssima	imitando	a	do	arminho	,	e	serve	para	os
	jmesmo!>	uzos.	Os	patos-marinhos	com	bic<^	de	pe-
	j-it	,	azas	mui	pequenas	,	e	sem	penna	,	e	que	an-
	dam	o	mais	do	tempo	pelo	fundo	do	mar	,	appa-
	recem	sobre	a	costa	;	como	também	os	lobos	mari-
	nlios.	Conta-se	aqnique	as	emas	pÕem	mnitas	num
	mesmo	n	nho	,	ao	qual	não	tornam	,	acabada	31	pos-
	tura	;	e	que	um	macho	choca	os	ovos	,	dos	quaes
	quebra	dois	,	logo	que	nascem	os	pintos,	para	que
	estes	se	sustentem	com	as	moscas	,	que	se	juntam
	nos	quebrados	,	athé	poderem	acompanhar	o	pai	,
	que	os	guia	por	alguns	dias	,	em	quanto	não	sç
	trasmalham.
	C	povo	nSo	he	apaixonado	pela	caça	,	que
	por	isso	he	multiplicada	;	nem	pela	pescaria	;	tam-
	bém	o	peixe	não	he	bom.
	Os	camponezes	sam	insignes	no	uzo	do	laço	,
	para	prender	o	gado	brabo.	He	uma	corda	de	cor-
	rêas	entrançadas	preza	por	uma	ponta	á	sela	do
	cavallo	em	que	o	laçador	monta,	com	uma	laçada
	corredia	na	outra	;	e	que	se	lança	sobre	a	dian-
	teira	do	animal	,	que	fica	prezo	pelas	pontas	,	ou
	pescoço.	Ha	homens	tão	habituados	que	laçam	on-
	ças.	Não	sam	menos	destros	no	manejo	das	bolas	,
	que	sam	duas	pedras	redondas	seguras	nas	extre-
	midades	d'	huma	corda	curta	,	e	também	de	corrêas	,
	1"	ii


BIOGRAPHIES
	431
	Verdi
	operas,	Verdi	had	composed	a	string
	quartet,	a	Pater	Noster	for	two	so-
	pranos,	contralto,	tenor	and	bass,	and
	an	Ave	Maria	for	soprano	and	strings.
	After	the	requiem	Verdi	retired	for
	many	years	to	the	quiet	life	of	his
	villa,	Sant'	Agato,	near	Busseto,	where
	he	devoted	himself	to	his	garden	and
	farm.	He	was	fond	of	animals,	par-
	ticularly	horses.	He	was	charitable,
	giving	to	the	needy,	and	when	the
	people	of	Busseto	wanted	a	theatre
	he	gave	10,000	francs	toward	it.	He
	was	kind	to	young	musicians,	but
	seldom	talked	of	himself	or	his	works.
	He	had	an	iron	constitution,	and
	energy	of	character;	was	tall,	agile
	and	vigorous.	The	quiet	of	these
	years	was	broken	in	1881,	when	a
	revised	version	of	Simon	Boccanegra
	was	given	at	Milan.	Verdi	called	upon
	the	famous	poet-composer,	Arrigo
	Boito,	to	overhaul	the	libretto	com-
	pletely,	and	this	time	the	opera	was
	a	great	success.	During	the	retire-
	ment	which	followed	this	production
	rumors	of	a	new	opera	were	circu-
	lating.	These	were	eventually	veri-
	fied	by	the	magnificent	Otello,	given
	in	Milan,	1887.	Its	success	was	over-
	whelming;	the	verdict	of	the	critics
	and	musicians	assembled	from	all
	over	the	world	was	unanimous.	Verdi
	was	feted	as	never	composer	had
	been	feted	before.	Surely	it	would
	now	seem	that	he	could	afford	to
	rest	on	his	laurels.	But	in	his	old
	age	this	musician,	who	never	felt	old,
	began	on	a	work	which	is	full	of	in-
	spiration,	beauty	and	youth.	It	is
	pure	comedy	throughout.	Falstaff,
	given	at	La	Scala,	in	Milan,	1893,
	electrified	the	musical	world.	It
	seems	to	breathe	the	spirit	of	youth,
	and	Verdi	said	he	thoroughly	en-
	joyed	writing	it.	In	this,	his	farewell
	to	the	world,	he	has,	like	Rembrandt
	in	his	last	portrait,	taken	leave	of	it
	with	a	smile	on	his	face.	The	libret-
	tos	for	Otello	and	Falstaff	were	fur-
	nished	by	Boito	and	are	the	two
	finest	in	existence.	These	two	works
	embody	all	the	best	features	of	the
	modern	school	of	music,	without	los-
	ing	touch	with	the	great	masters	of
	the	past.	Verdi	was	no	innovator;	he
	did	not	change	systems,	but	turned
	his	genius	to	developing	existing	ma-
	terials	to	the	highest	conceivable	pitch
	of	beauty^and	completeness.
	Verdi	is	known	to	have	refused
	the	offer,	in	1871,	to	succeed	Mer-
	cadante	as	director	of	the	Conserva-
	Verhulst
	tory	at	Naples.	He	was	a	member
	of	the	Academic	des	Beaux	Arts,
	Paris,	succeeding	Meyerbeer.	He	was
	elected	deputy	to	the	new	kingdom
	of	Parma,	and	was	a	member	of	the
	Italian	Parliament,	though	he	resigned
	after	two	or	three	years.	^	In	1875
	he	was	made	senator	by	King	Victor
	Emmanuel.	Through	all	these	honors
	he	remained	a	simple	gentleman.	His
	wife	died	late	in	1897,	and	was	buried
	in	the	House	of	Rest,	near	Milan,
	a	home	for	aged	artists,	founded	by
	Verdi	as	a	love-offering	to	her.	He
	died	in	1901	and	is	buried	beside	his
	wife.
	BIBLIOGRAPHY.
	Basevi.	Studio	sulle	opere	di	G.
	Verdi.
	Bermani,	B.	Schizzi.
	Checchi,	Eugenic.	Giuseppe	Ver-
	di;	il	genio	e	le	opere.
	Persio,	G.	Cenni	biografici.
	Pougin.	Verdi,	souvenirs	anec-
	dotiques.
	Roosevelt,	Blanche.	Verdi,	Milan
	and	Otello.
	Vere	(var),	Clementine	Duchene	de.
	Singer;	born	in	Paris.	Her	father
	was	a	Belgian	nobleman	and	her
	mother	an	English	lady.	She	studied
	under	Mme.	Albertini-Baucarde	at
	Florence,	and	there	made	her	first
	appearance	at	sixteen	years	of	age.
	She	made	a	successful	concert	tour
	of	the	leading	cities	in	Italy,	France,
	Spain,	Mexico	and	Australia,	and	was
	especially	well	received	in	Berlin,
	London	and	the	United	States.	In
	New	York	she	was	a	member	of	the
	Abbey^	and	Grau	Company.	Her
	voice	is	a	rich	soprano,	very	powerful
	and	particularly	brilliant	in	coloring.
	Her	principal	parts	are	Marguerite
	in	Berlioz's	Faust,	Violetta,	Marguer-
	ite	de	Valois,	Ophelia,	Lucia,	and
	Dinorah.
	Verhulst	(ver-hoolsf),	Johannes	Jo-
	sephus	Herman.	1816-1891.
	^orn	at	The	Hague	and	received
	his	musical	education	at	the	Royal
	School	of	Music.	While	quite	young
	he	was	appointed	violinist	in	the
	orchestra	of	the	French	Opera	under
	Charles	Haussen.	Mendelssohn's	at-
	tention	was	attracted	to	his	work	and
	he	invited	him	to	come	to	Leipsic.
	This	visit	was	postponed	on	account
	of	Mendelssohn's	marriage	and	ab-
	sence,	and	in	the	meantime	Verhulst
	Studied	at	Cologne	under	Joseph