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 i^ .-..<■ -^
 
 THE MARVELLOUS YEAR
 
 /^<^^^. 
 
 THL 
 
 MARVELLOUS 
 YEAR 
 
 INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 EDWIN MARKHAM 
 
 DRAWINGS BY 
 
 GERTRUDE HUEBSCH 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GH 
 
 B. W. HUEBSCH 
 
 1909
 
 Copyright, 1909, by 
 B. W. HUEBSCH
 
 cr 
 
 PUBLISHER'S NOTE 
 
 IN such brief space as this volume affords it is mani- 
 festly impracticable to print biographies; indeed it 
 were supererogatory, for facts about the fourteen 
 lives here celebrated may be obtained in encyclopaedias 
 and definitive Lives. 
 
 It has been the author's aim to find the meaning of 
 each life, to strip it of the unimportant details that may 
 obscure it, and briefly to present the reason for honoring 
 the memory of the great dead. 
 
 The title-page of this book raises the obvious question 
 as to the identity of the author of the essays that follow. 
 The publisher, to his keen regret, is pledged to withhold 
 the writer's name. It is not because of fear of criticism 
 if his effort is unfavorably received or because of modesty 
 if it meets with praise, but because his life work is cast 
 in other fields than that of biographical interpretation, 
 that he has so decided. While this book has been a 
 pleasure to him he is reluctant to associate his name 
 with any activity but the one which claims him. 
 
 The author of these pages stands revealed in the light 
 of his opening paragraph on Fitzgerald, and, after pe- 
 rusing the entire book the reader may agree that, not 
 only in the spirit of humble reverence toward their work, 
 but in other respects, analogies between the two writers 
 may be perceived. 
 
 5 
 
 1415907
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Edgar Allan Poe 23 
 
 Born. Boston, Mass., January 19, 1809. 
 Died. Baltimore, Md., October 7, 1849. 
 
 Frederic Francois Chopin 29 
 
 Born. Warsaw, Poland, March i, 1809. 
 Died. Paris, October 17, 1849. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln 35 
 
 Born. Hodgenville, Ky., February 12, 1809. 
 Died. Washington, April 15, 1865. 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes 41 
 
 Born. Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809. 
 Died. Boston, October 7, 1894. 
 
 John Calvin 47 
 
 Born. Noyon, France, July 10, 1509. 
 Died. Geneva, May 2y, 1564. 
 
 Samuel Johnson 53 
 
 Born. Lichfield, England, September 18, 1709. 
 Died. London, December 13, 1784. 
 
 Charles Darw^in 59 
 
 Bom. Shrewsbury, England, February 12, 1809. 
 Died. Beckenham, April 19, 1882. 
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 65 
 
 Bom. Somersby, England, August 6, 1809. 
 Died. Aldworth, October 6, 1892. 
 
 Frances Anne Kemble 71 
 
 Born. London, November 27, 1809. 
 Died. London, January 16, 1893.
 
 Contents 
 
 Franz Joseph Haydn "j-j 
 
 Born. Rohrau, Austria, March 31, 1732. 
 Died. Vienna, May 26, 1809. 
 
 Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol 83 
 
 Born. Poltava, Russia, March, 1809. 
 
 Died. Moscow, March 4 (February 21), 1852. 
 
 William Ewart Gladstone 89 
 
 Born. Liverpool, England, December 29, 1809. 
 Died. Hawarden, May 19, 1898. 
 
 Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy ■ • 95 
 
 Born. Hamburg, February 5, 1809. 
 Died. Leipzig, November 4, 1847. 
 
 Edward Fitzgerald • . loi 
 
 Born. Woodbridge, England, March 31, 1809. 
 Died. Merton Rectory, Norfolk, June 14, 1883.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY EDWIN MARKHAM 
 
 Man wandering here between the two infinities craves 
 something to give him his bearings, something to measure 
 his progress by, something to show him his relation to 
 his fellow voyagers. He seizes on birthdays, anniver- 
 saries, centuries, cycles for his milestones and tavern- 
 stops. And now as 1909 is reached and we remember 
 that galaxy of great souls that drifted earthward a hun- 
 dred years ago, we cannot help thinking of their place 
 and import in the world movement, Darwin, Lincoln, 
 Mendelssohn, Tennyson, Poe, Gladstone, Gogol, and 
 the rest — what a brilliant host to defy the poppy of 
 oblivion! Large and luminous is the field of art and 
 science that is lighted by the glory of their names. 
 
 Do we seem tall, we modern men? Yes, but it is 
 because we stand upon the shoulders of the mighty Past. 
 The great worker serves for the million who work feebly; 
 and the great seer for the million who see dimly. The 
 worker and the seer send their achievements into the 
 ages. When Columbus swung back the gates of the 
 ocean, he cleared a sea-path for all nations to the ends 
 of the world. When Shakespeare wrote his dramas, he 
 unlocked the heart for all the coming generations. 
 
 9
 
 Introduction 
 
 The web of history if unraveled would resolve itself 
 into strands which are the lives of strong personalities. 
 Looked at from one point of view, history is only the 
 biography of great men. A towering personality rises 
 and dominates a great epoch, lighting a torch for the 
 long centuries. The fact that he is able to draw the 
 eyes of the people is a matter for rejoicing, for it proves 
 that men have the power to see something that is greater 
 than themselves. The masses are led by the great man, 
 because they think they discern in him the wise, the 
 noble, the Godlike. This reverence for great men, this 
 upward looking to something higher than ourselves, is 
 the noblest thing in human nature. 
 
 What the world needs most is the wisdom to choose the 
 true leader, be he a captain of politics or a master of 
 learning. Happy are the people who have recognized 
 and accepted the Heaven-sent messengers. Most of our 
 sorrows rise from the fact that we choose make-believe 
 heroes and false prophets, not being able to distinguish 
 between sheet-iron thunder and the true artillery of the 
 heavens — not being able to distinguish between the jar- 
 gon of the charlatan and the sphere music of the seer. 
 What the people need, then, is some touchstone by which 
 they can distinguish the true from the false, the princes 
 from the pretenders. Indeed the chief business of a 
 people is to find its great man, and then to hear his words 
 and follow him on the path of destiny. In honoring 
 10
 
 Introduction 
 
 a Heaven-sent leader, they express their own nobleness; 
 for they are not honoring him as a mere man, but as the 
 urn that carries the sacred fire of the God. 
 
 Every year scatters its pollen of genius; but perhaps 
 the planet never before saw so abundant a flowering as 
 burst forth from the wonderful year of 1809. And of all 
 the men of that year, Darwin has perhaps most widely 
 influenced the world. He was one of the great libera- 
 tors of the mind, for he taught men to follow facts, let 
 them lead where they would. His "Origin of Species," 
 while not the final word of course, was yet an epoch- 
 making book, one that changed the face and pace of 
 science. Contradicting all thinkers from Anaxagoras to 
 Augustine, from Moses to Milton, he swept away the 
 myth of instantaneous creation and revealed the rise 
 and march of life as a slow process of the ages. 
 
 Men felt at first that the new teaching would destroy 
 all faith in the spiritual nature of man, but it is in 
 reality a strong support of that faith. For, while the 
 pressure of the law of natural selection may have molded 
 man's body from a lower animal form, still it is clear 
 that man's spiritual powers could not have ascended 
 from the animal plane. What is evolved must be first 
 involved. The cause must ever be as vast as the effect: 
 no stream can rise above its fountain. So it seems clear 
 that the spiritual powers in man must have had a lofty 
 origin, must have descended from the Unseen Holy that 
 
 11
 
 Introduction 
 
 is above the world. More than this, we see now that 
 the new teaching is not atheistic, since it merely dis- 
 closes the divine method. Darwin does not reveal the 
 First Cause of things, nor does he abolish the need for 
 a wise Purpose behind the movement of the universe. 
 Still, as of old, we must say, "In the beginning, God!" 
 
 Dearer to America than all other men of that wonder- 
 ful year is Abraham Lincoln. Even the great names of 
 Washington and Jefferson burn with an inferior fire. 
 Why is this? Perhaps because the heart of man is so 
 contrived that only martyrdom can move its deepest emo- 
 tion. More than this, we feel Lincoln to be one of us, 
 and so a brother; yet also to have in him that star of 
 conscience that makes him kindred to the ideal toward 
 which in our nobler moments we all aspire. He touches 
 us, therefore, on our human side and on our angel side. 
 So Lincoln has become the American Ideal, the chief 
 unifying force in our multiform republic. To him 
 death was not death, for after all these years he is more 
 alive than when he walked among us. His spirit is 
 now the most vital breath of life under the ribs of the 
 nation. He is the power among us that makes us think 
 of something besides dollars and dividends. He is a 
 voice asserting the concerns of the soul, declaring that 
 a life is more than a living, that manhood is more than 
 money. 
 
 Gladstone's fame is secure, as the greatest political 
 
 12
 
 Introduction 
 
 leader of the Victorian era. Only John Bright stands 
 at Gladstone's level. They were great because they 
 dared to hold for ideal and unworldly considerations. 
 Disraeli was distinguished also; but Gladstone excels 
 him in that reach of the spirit that ranks social welfare 
 higher than selfish gain. As far as his vision went, 
 Gladstone stood for the sacred rights of the people. He 
 cared less for England's prestige as an imperial power 
 than for England's performance as a righteous power. 
 He stood for liberating ideas — for free trade, equal tax- 
 ation, popular education, domestic industry, Irish Home 
 Rule, peace among the nations. While perhaps he did 
 not see all that Carlyle and Ruskin saw, still he was one 
 of the great forces whose onrushing billow of influence 
 is still making for righteousness. 
 
 There is a growing inclination to change the verdict 
 in regard to Mendelssohn, who for a long time dominated 
 the mid-century musical sentimentalists. The great 
 school of romantic music that culminated in the Wag- 
 nerean opera, was at the birth of Mendelssohn, touching 
 the world with its first ripples. Mendelssohn was never 
 caught into this movement although he swayed a little 
 to its influence. He leaned to the formal, the precise, 
 the elegant; and his conservatism has helped to check the 
 revolutionary fury of the romantics. He had fancy, not 
 imagination, and did his loveliest work in the little 
 charmed circle of faerie. He followed public sentiment, 
 
 13
 
 Introduction 
 
 instead of calling from a height to "come and see." 
 Nevertheless, "The Wedding March," fervid, festal, 
 jubilant, cries a rapture for us; and the overture to 
 "A Midsummer Night's Dream" still works its miracle 
 of beauty on our hearts. 
 
 In Chopin we find another order of genius; for he 
 came as a revolutionist declaring war against the mu- 
 sical traditions. And yet so delicate and lyrical is 
 Chopin's work that it might be said to have only "the 
 frail duration of a flower." His chief significance lay 
 in his revolutionary defiance of dead classic correctness 
 and in the magic elasticity of his chords, which are 
 heightened even by discords. He was a son of revolu- 
 tion, a builder of the new liberties of art. 
 
 Poe casts from literary America the longest shadow 
 across the world. He has left us a group of wonderful 
 tales of ratiocination and mystery — tales that have 
 started schools of story-telling. He gave America her 
 first body of significant criticism, reviews sweeping to- 
 gether the principles of literary art. He has left only a 
 thin volume of verse; but it is refined gold almost pure, 
 carven diamond almost flawless. He is detached, hav- 
 ing sprung from the brain of no preceding master. He 
 touched the lyre of poetry with a unique stroke giving a 
 new music to the world. 
 
 Edward Fitzgerald, through his remarkable translation 
 
 14
 
 Introduction 
 
 of "The Rubaiyat" of Omar Khayyam, has become one of 
 the great literary forces of our century. Perhaps no 
 poem is more widely known among the cultivated 
 classes. I say this to state a fact — not to express a 
 pleasure. For I think that no poem has ever done more 
 harm to the world ; for it has tended to break down in the 
 mind of men that heroic attitude toward life that is 
 the central force in character. However, there is one 
 moral excellence in the poem; for it represents Omar as 
 beginning life as an earnest seeker after truth, a man 
 not ready to fall into the easy rut of custom, a man de- 
 termined to think out life's problem for himself. Man 
 is a rational being; so it is ever true that his opinions 
 are not real opinions till they have been examined by 
 his reason. Many men accept their opinions ready- 
 made: most ideas are only quotations, echoes from real 
 voices. So in this light we can approve of the rebel 
 Omar, and wish him well in his search for the absolute 
 reality and veracity. 
 
 But the sad thing in Omar is that he offers us at last 
 a weak, childish philosophy, a philosophy of dust and 
 ashes. Live for the moment; ride the pleasure bubble 
 — this is his final message. He stopped his search too 
 soon : he should have kept on searching till he found an 
 Answer that is as dignified as the Question. He makes 
 pleasure the end of life — a poor pitiful gospel for these 
 
 15.
 
 Introduction 
 
 men of Time, who have been sent forth to walk mys- 
 terious Earth, with the stars above them and the graves 
 below them. 
 
 Tennyson represented his century in its love of art, its 
 delight in science, its speculation on the meaning of life 
 and death, and in a certain mild reaction against social 
 wrongs. But he only echoed his century; he did not 
 lead it with the bugle of advance. He was not the 
 prophet on the morning-lighted peak, crying, "Awake 
 to the coming wonder !" He was rather the outrider safe 
 upon the coach, crying, "Behold the wonder that has 
 come!" The glories and the terrors of the radical never 
 reached his serene and sheltered place. 
 
 In his "In Memoriam" (as Milton in "Paradise Lost," 
 as Dante in "The Divine Comedy") he debates the stern 
 old problem of the destiny of man. Yet in this poem, 
 summed in exquisite elegy and lovely lyric, we find only 
 the theology of his own day tinctured by a touch of the 
 current mysticism and a trace of the current science. In 
 the "Idyls of the King," those jewelled miniatures of 
 narrative, Tennyson represents not so much the fabled 
 court of Arthur as the polite society of the court of Vic- 
 toria catalogued in the Blue Book of his time. The 
 great failure of Tennyson was his failure to catch the 
 full meaning of Democracy, its final meaning — Social 
 Democracy. Here he did not rise toward the higher 
 16
 
 Introduction 
 
 levels of his era where William Morris and John Ruskin 
 walked the purer air. He revered Law, but he seems 
 to have made the mistake of imagining that law supports 
 and excuses the traditional evils about us, evils that are 
 the mere creation of human folly and selfishness. His 
 trust was in evolution, forgetting that men must push 
 with God. 
 
 But, while Tennyson was not a radical and aggres- 
 sive mind, he was nevertheless for sheer beauty near the 
 front rank of the world's great poets, and he had to the 
 full the honor of his generation. He came to stand for 
 all the gentlenesses and graces of life, for the values 
 beyond the material, for the verities and sanctities of 
 the past, for the meaning and majesty of the present. 
 He was always the exquisite artist: he painted nature 
 with fine fidelity; he pictured woman with a pure white 
 reverence; he kept his faith in the Unseen and insisted 
 on the oneness of all life. As Browning stood for the 
 supremacy of spirit, so Tennyson stood for the supremacy 
 of law. He caught up the worship of beauty which had 
 risen to a white flame in the poetry of Keats; and 
 through all the long years of his service to the muse of 
 poesy, he was faithful to this high apostolate. 
 
 While Tennyson did not beat the gong of revolt, while 
 he did not sound the clarion of social justice; yet at 
 times the flash of a great vision passed over his soul 
 
 17
 
 Introduction 
 
 to stir the larger hopes that make us men. Once he 
 saw humanity, after the long brute ages, standing at last 
 upon a sunrise height, where 
 
 "the war-drum throbbed no longer and the battle 
 flags were furled 
 In the Parliament of Man, the Federation of the World." 
 
 These names of 1809 stand high among the great lead- 
 ers of humanity. It is the fashion nowadays to deny 
 the need of leaders; as though a wheel could run with- 
 out a hub. But the need of leaders is a vital necessity, 
 one that this human race will not pass beyond in the next 
 thousand millenniums. The leader of course is not 
 needed to do the work of the people, but rather to in- 
 spire the people to do their own work — to cheer their 
 hearts and unify their energies in the effort to conquer 
 the world. Leaders do not come to pour out treasures 
 for us: they cannot bestow by pure gift-giving. They 
 can only quicken our sleeping powers. They liberate 
 our forces ; they carry new freedoms. They send the rut- 
 held spirit out on voyages of discovery, where the dim 
 eyes open to new horizons. They cannot make the jour- 
 ney for us, for nothing is known that is not experienced. 
 So they only blaze the way and beckon us to follow. 
 
 Great men help us to see the meanings of our exist- 
 ence : they reveal us to ourselves. They point out to us 
 the large relations of things, help us to grasp the unity 
 18
 
 Introduction 
 
 that is behind nature and history. Great souls see the 
 need of the people, and show them how to satisfy that 
 need: they see the waste of the energies of the people, 
 and teach them the divine economies ; they see the people 
 stumbling on rough paths, and point them to the divine 
 highways; they see the people stammering for a word, 
 and teach them how to speak that word. The great 
 man creates order in the chaos of life and thought. 
 If he comes as a man of action among a mob of men, he 
 comes ready to organize them into a working force. If 
 he comes as a seer, he will disclose to them a new sense 
 of values: he will reveal to the poor their unheeded 
 wealth, and to the rich their unsuspected poverty. One 
 great soul can make all men feel a sense of greatness. 
 
 Westerleigh Park, 
 Staten Island, N. Y. 
 
 19
 
 EDGAR ALLAN FOE 
 
 The Manielhus Year
 
 Edgar Allan Poe 
 
 It has been, once and again, a critical fashion to dis- 
 cuss Poe's place in literature, to debate with more or 
 less of acrimony whether he had any such place at all. 
 
 An idle speculation it now seems. A place in litera- 
 ture cannot be denied him so long as the verdict of 
 the reading public has kept alive the memory of some 
 of his poetry, of much of his story product. So long 
 as "The Raven" remains a memory, so long as "The Fall 
 of the House of Usher," "The Murders in the Rue Mor- 
 gue," even "The Gold Bug" are read with zest sufficient 
 to call for newer and newer editions, there can be no 
 doubt that the author occupies a place in literature. 
 
 Poe was the voice of protest against the commonplace, 
 a protest in voice and in example. 
 
 His criticism, the protest in voice, we may now neg- 
 lect. We may well acknowledge that in his critical 
 efforts he showed a tendency to degenerate into the com- 
 mon scold. That he denied to Longfellow the posses- 
 sion of poetic art is a thing of the past to us, the greater 
 jury has rendered justice between the two men. That 
 the editorial conduct of the American magazines of his 
 time moved him to wrath can awaken in us but the most 
 tepid interest, for few except the students of the develop- 
 ment of American literature could now bring themselves 
 
 23
 
 i8o9 Edgar Allan Poe 1849 
 
 to engage upon a course of such reading. Since, then, 
 we have no interest in the magazines themselves we 
 have less concern with the controversy in which Gris- 
 wold so hotly engaged. Even that took the form of 
 the argumentum ad homincm, Poe was a most improper 
 person in his short life, therefore he could not lay claim 
 to literary excellence. He was poor, and that is an 
 offence to such as have pockets well lined. He was ill, 
 and the charity of science had not in his time reached 
 the point of recognizing that such an addiction as from 
 time to time proved too strong for him needed the physi- 
 cian rather than the constable. If he was out of joint 
 with his times there was no less a dislocation in the times. 
 
 So much for his protest in voice. Poe is not remem- 
 bered for his essays in criticism. They survive only as 
 they may be disinterred by those who seek to account 
 for the storms which beat upon him. 
 
 Of the protest in example let us first glance briefly 
 at his verse. Everybody of his time wrote verse, it 
 was an age of poets. But who now recalls a poem or 
 a poet before "The Raven?" It was as formal and 
 mechanical as the strumming of the harp for the enter- 
 tainment of visitors after dinner, and the notes lasted 
 just as long in the one case as in the other. It was an 
 art mechanical, the feet must scan on finger reckoning, 
 the rhymes were but echoes of accepted rhymes in the 
 poetical stock, it was still the fashion to set off three 
 lines when they chanced to rhyme so much by a 3-line 
 brace, one sees the like in Pope's Homer. Upon this 
 24
 
 i8o9 Edgar Allan Poe 1849 
 
 trade of poetry came Poe with new forms, with new 
 life, above all with new adjectives. Men were afraid 
 of their adjectives, a newcomer was in suspicion, it might 
 be improper. Fancy the family circle when it first en- 
 countered such a line as "the scoriae rivers do roll I" Mr. 
 Pope never wrote such a word as that, nor Mr. Dryden, 
 nor yet the elegant Mr. Willis. "Scoriae?" why, that 
 seems scarcely proper, a dangerous innovator, this young 
 Poe, and they say he drinks, too. But take now a census 
 of the present memory, count up the images and the lines 
 which one remembers of Poe and those of the elegant 
 Mr. Willis and see what the verdict is. Look at the 
 later verse and see whether it follows the Poe spirit of 
 freedom or the classic stupidity of those who denied him 
 a place. 
 
 The truest of Poe's protest In example was his creation 
 for all literature, not only American literature but all 
 literature. This was the short story, the novel of action 
 completed in few words. Fiction had sunk when he 
 came upon his work and the depth of its sinking was very 
 low. The novel was a dreary waste of sluggish inac- 
 tivity. Its place was largely taken by the sketch, the 
 advantage lying solely in the fact that the latter was 
 brief. Again we encounter the elegant Mr. Willis. 
 He was indefatigable in the production of sketches, his 
 output was enormous, each one was brief, and that is 
 the best that can be said of any one of his sketches. 
 
 Of this form of composition Poe took but one element, 
 the short tale of the words, the mere arithme_tic of the 
 
 25
 
 i8o9 Edgar Allan Poe 1849 
 
 form. He put life into the dull sketch, he made of each 
 a living story within the short compass, he saw his end 
 before he began and he built up the story of action, the 
 story of thought, the story of both action and thought. 
 It was a new creation, it was so new that the name was 
 lacking, it was nothing but the short story. Yet that 
 name which was then no name at all has taken a dom- 
 inant position in the history of literary form. It has 
 been intrinsically an American form. It has passed over 
 to France and has undergone there an almost parallel, 
 only slightly divergent, course of development beside its 
 progress here. In England and in Germany it has been 
 followed with closer imitation and less spirit. 
 
 Having created the form Poe did yet more within that 
 form. If the detective story has any attraction, if the 
 unravelling of mystery has power to hold the reader, then 
 Poe still stands the unrivalled master and his incidents 
 in the Rue Morgue and the thinly veiled local tragedy 
 of Marie Roget stand at the head of that art. If the 
 vivisection of the human soul carries an appeal then the 
 first rank again is taken by the House of Usher, such a 
 psychopathic story as has never been equalled. If the 
 horror of tragedy be sought again we find Poe at its 
 height in the pendulum ever swinging with its razor 
 edge. 
 
 Yet with all this remains an echo of the distant past, 
 the Hall of Fame omits Poe, and the popular verdict 
 omits the Hall of Fame. 
 26
 
 FREDERIC FRANCOIS CHOPIN 
 
 The Man'elhus Year
 
 Frederic Francois Chopin 
 
 Of a short life of forty years a little more than two 
 thirds was marked by creative activity in his art. Of 
 mixed origin Poland has always claimed Chopin as the 
 most brilliant of Polish musicians. 
 
 The elder Chopin, a Frenchman, was an instructor of 
 the young nobility in Warsaw and married a Polish 
 woman of good family. The son was carefully reared 
 in close association with the better and more refined so- 
 ciety of the former capital of that much harassed king- 
 dom and both early and deep imbibed the spirit which 
 had made Poland a distinct seat of culture when its neigh- 
 bor countries were dark wildernesses and rude communi- 
 ties. Such was the foundation of his art, though but a 
 small portion of his active career was passed in his birth- 
 place. Yet the spirit of Poland remained ever close to 
 him and he is justly regarded as the foremost exponent 
 of the Polish musical taste both in form and in essence. 
 His early musical education was given him by Eisner 
 in Warsaw, a teacher of painstaking method yet amply 
 endowed with spirit to encourage the rich talent which 
 he found in his young pupil. To this fostering zeal we 
 
 29
 
 i8o9 Frederic Francois Chopin 1849 
 
 owe it that Chopin first published at the age of sixteen. 
 Two years later he was in Vienna appearing in concert 
 with great success, and this was followed by slow travel 
 through the musical centres of eastern Germany. 
 
 Paris he reached in 1832, he found himself already 
 expected and at once entered into associations of the 
 closest intimacy with the bright circle of distinguished 
 friends who chained him to his father's home. There- 
 after he rarely separated himself from this congenial and 
 admiring company, never willingly, seldom for any 
 length of time. Even to the invitation of musical Eng- 
 land which lay so near he yielded but twice, once in 1837 
 and again in 1848, the year before his death, although 
 his reception on each visit was flattering and triumphant. 
 
 Other musicians have won their fame in their public 
 appearances. Chopin was almost a recluse in that 
 respect, he could rarely be induced to appear in concert 
 even when his position was unassailable. Yet he was 
 a consummate master of the piano and could have filled 
 his time with the engagements which were vainly show- 
 ered upon him. It was clearly a disinclination to become 
 known through that means, not at all a distrust of his 
 powers. In the intimacy of his chosen circle his execu- 
 tion upon that instrument was so brilliant as to charm 
 even the most skilful and to impel strangers to every 
 device to gain admission to these impromptu concerts. 
 For himself and his dear friends he lived in the richest 
 
 30
 
 i8o9 FREDfRic Francois Chopin 1849 
 
 atmosphere of music: to strangers he chose to be known 
 only through his written message. 
 
 With a few unimportant exceptions of pieces prepared 
 for the orchestra he wrote wholly for the piano, and 
 far more than any of his predecessors he brought the art 
 of that instrument to a high pitch. In the matter of 
 form the great majority of his compositions were written 
 as concertos, waltzes, nocturnes, mazurkas and preludes 
 and with a peculiar predisposition toward the older 
 Polish national forms. His fancy was in the highest 
 degree poetic and enjoyed the smoothness of the lyric 
 measures. Yet under the smooth finish there is deep 
 subtlety in idea; and the harmonies, while intricate, 
 abound in graceful effects stamped throughout with an 
 individual touch. This commanding individuality 
 dominates in all his work the personal peculiarities of 
 rhythm and melody and the charm both delicate and 
 strong which tax to the utmost limit the powers of the 
 performer who would fitly interpret Chopin and which 
 are no unworthy challenge to the most inspired efforts 
 of the rare genius of the piano. 
 
 We have already spoken of his use of the ancient Pol- 
 ish forms. His mother land influenced him far more 
 widely than in form. His patriotism was a fire, a passion. 
 When he composed in the Polish form his soul was 
 aquiver with the tempest of suffering and revolt against 
 the oppressor, which refused to see that hope was indeed 
 
 31
 
 i8o9 Frederic Fran(^ois Chopin 1849 
 
 hopeless. With heart and soul he was the greatest in- 
 terpreter of the national spirit and his notes spoke to his 
 brethren among his mother's race more keenly than words 
 could ever speak to a people so replete with sympathy. 
 In this his centennial year Chopin to the Poles is not an 
 artist to awaken their pride, he is the voice of a nation's 
 devotion. 
 
 32
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 The Marvellous Year
 
 Abraham Lincoln 
 
 What manner of man was he, on the blood-eroded 
 grave-sculptured hills of an obscure Pennsylvania vil- 
 lage, who in few words could confer immortality? 
 What a soul it was that called forth from a nation's heart 
 grief-tortured the poignant sob 
 
 "O Captain I my Captain I our fearful trip is done." 
 
 Reverently we approach the centenary of Lincoln. 
 At once the distance vanishes, the centennial vanishes 
 with a rolling up of all the years, we find the martyr no 
 remote object of veneration but our Lincoln yet living 
 in our hearts, no distant figure. And well so. When 
 the leaf of May is yielding to the bloom of June our 
 eyes yet see the march in blue of the remnant of those 
 who sent heavenward the brave shout "we are coming. 
 Father Abraham, a hundred thousand strong." Aye I ten 
 thousand times ten thousand they came in those dark and 
 bitter days, strong to battle for their country and offer- 
 ing personal devotion to the man whose name was on 
 every lip. And when their work was done they tri- 
 umphed in the march past of the Grand Army before their 
 Captain soon to lay down his bitter toil too early. 
 Others there are, men and women no more than at the 
 crest of achievement, whose childhood memories are yet 
 
 3i
 
 i8o9 Abraham Lincoln 1865 
 
 vivid of long hours spent in scraping lint, a service of 
 war whose object was obscured in the feeling that it was 
 personal service for their Uncle Abe. It is yet years too 
 soon for our Lincoln to recede to the cold glitter of his- 
 tory and its statues, he yet lives the Lincoln of our hearts. 
 
 The story of his life has been written and rewritten, 
 no public man has ever been so laid before his people 
 in such a wealth of study of his public acts and record 
 of his private life, all clean and sweet. To that record 
 we cannot add, to the volume of appreciation we may 
 not contribute. 
 
 Yet it will not be idle to essay if haply we may point 
 to one or two of the broad lines of his life which not 
 only made the man great but greater made him lovable. 
 Even in the stress of war he was lovable, he appealed to 
 sweet souls. It cannot be forgotten that in many a home 
 in those bitter days of loss above the crepe-knotted sad 
 sabre upon the wall hung the picture of the Lincoln for 
 whom that sacrifice had been made, and that picture was 
 through choice the sad-eyed father with his little son 
 reading at his knee. 
 
 Was it not because to Lincoln the people was a faith? 
 
 Here was a pian to whom by birth, by pioneer ancestry, 
 by rude upbringing it was given to be an elemental Re- 
 publican. Small storekeeper, volunteer in the Indian 
 war of his remote frontier, self-made lawyer and rider 
 of a distant circuit, he knew the people, he believed 
 the people majestic, they believed him true. At cross- 
 roads and courthouse he met his people and he shared 
 36
 
 i8o9 Abraham Lincoln 1865 
 
 their thought. With his people he knew that the dis- 
 tant statesmanship of the nation at its capital, no more 
 remote in difference of longitude than in point of view, 
 ^ was handled to a failure growing ever greater by an 
 oligarchy. But he — one man, the voice of many — was 
 keen to see where safety lay, even through the passage 
 perilous. A man of the people, a man who believed in 
 the people, never out of touch with their thought he 
 stood a man of a fixed idea, massive, compelling, in- 
 stinct with success. To him it was crystal clear that 
 the fathers had given to this land a government by the 
 people. 
 
 A great moral question, yet of interminable economic 
 complication, was setting the people against the people. 
 On the one side aggression, on the other smug timidity. 
 Oligarchy and timidity were proceeding hand in hand 
 from compromise that was all one sided to the stifling 
 of the voice of the great people. 
 
 His service in Congress accomplished little externally. 
 Internally it did much, he saw at first hand the method 
 of the combination and compromise that characterized 
 legislation and he saw how far it had drifted away from 
 the purpose of the country's government. 
 
 On the moral issue of slavery he was heart and soul 
 with his people, he was devoted to the cause of freedom. 
 Great as the issue was, his was the discerning mind to 
 see that it was but an incident, that under it lay a greater 
 issue, even as the issue of national life and death. It 
 was given him to pen the words that gave freedom 
 
 37
 
 l809 Abraham Lincoln 1865 
 
 to the slave, yet his proclamation of freedom was but 
 an incident in his greater course, it came almost as a 
 war convenience, a move of strategy. 
 
 Let us not lose sight of the fundamental fact that this 
 was a man of the people. In a free people and an inde- 
 pendent he saw no class lines, no sufficient custom that 
 some should rule and some should be governed save only 
 as the Constitution provided. 
 
 Of a people he knew there must be government, the 
 state must be secure and to every man must be life, 
 liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And by whom was 
 this people to be governed? Again the noble mind was 
 true to type, he saw that it must be government by the 
 people or not at all such government as our ancestors had 
 fought for. 
 
 That was enough inspiration to carry him into the 
 shock of war, it was for that end he called upon the 
 people to come to the defence of their rights. After all 
 the compromises, after all the fine drawn decisions of 
 the courts, after all the timidity of legislation he went 
 direct to the heart of the people and he found that they 
 trusted him. 
 
 And when the tide of war was turning, when victory 
 might at last be hoped for, we hear upon that Gettysburg 
 air the simple enunciation of the immortality of govern- 
 ment when it is that of the people in its triple chain. It 
 was the voice of the people speaking, and the people be- 
 lieved in the man who spoke this truth, they trusted him^ 
 they loved him, they love him yet. 
 38
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 
 
 The Marvtlhus Year
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 
 It is by no means easy to unravel the thread of a single 
 life from that pattern of brilliant men who for a genera- 
 tion made of Boston and Cambridge, the Harvard group, 
 the dominant centre of American literary activity. 
 They were many, philosophers, wits, historians, poets — 
 the pages of the Atlantic Monthly record their manifold 
 activities. Yet in that group it will be found less dif- 
 ficult to unthread the position of Dr. Holmes. 
 
 To the lay recollection he stands out from his Break- 
 fast Table, the Autocrat, the Professor, the Poet. In 
 the world of medicine he is equally recalled for his 
 genius as an instructor, for his accurate skill as an anat- 
 omist, for his facility in microscopic investigations. 
 These were, the latter his vocation, the former his agree- 
 able avocation. 
 
 It is not in his own work that one is to look for the 
 best of Dr. Holmes, good though that work was. It is 
 in the memoirs and the letters of the others of his time, 
 in the life of his chosen friends, that one is able to see 
 what an impress this modest wit and brilliant physician 
 made upon his fellows. 
 
 To the greater workers of his busy circle of acquaint- 
 ance he was always the cordial and discriminating critic. 
 To him they came with their plans while yet they were 
 
 41
 
 i8o9 Oliver Wendell Holmes 1894 
 
 in the early stage of uncertain aspiration, to him they 
 came with the early draft of their product. To such 
 effort as bore promise, no matter how crude its initial 
 condition might be, he gave approval and kindly help 
 in setting it on the road to success. He delighted in 
 giving earnest service in clearing up the doubts which 
 must cluster about a newly planned enterprise in lit- 
 erature. He had the happy nature which could dispel 
 dull hesitation and set in motion the gears of enthusiasm. 
 His was a fine art of criticism, an almost unerring sense 
 of what was best in literary finish and a manner of com- 
 municating his suggestions that left the amendment no 
 patch from the outside but an unmistakable part of the 
 original design. The friends who profited by his kindly 
 skill have left many a record, not merely of credit to 
 him but in yet richer measure of enthusiastic gratitude. 
 Had he written nothing of his own his position would 
 have been secure in the annals of his time. 
 
 Yet he has left, and on shelves of our libraries not 
 by any means relegated to disuse, an agreeable record 
 of his own activities with an attractive pen. If we put 
 to one side the purely professional papers of his healing 
 art the record is no long one. There is the breakfast 
 table series and its later companion of the teacups. 
 There is "Elsie \^enner." There are a few volumes of 
 his verse. None has lost its charm, all are still read. 
 
 Verse was Dr. Holmes's first choice of a medium and 
 he never left it far outside his interest. His muse was 
 42
 
 i8o9 Oliver Wendell Holmes 1894 
 
 never tragic, prolonged effort in metre possessed no at- 
 traction for him. He was at his best in occasional verse 
 and in the shorter lyric measures. His best efforts lay 
 in occasional poems, trifles to enhance the sense of con- 
 tent which comes after a good dinner. Among these 
 efforts of his were some of the best of their class in the 
 language, some which challenge admiration long after 
 the occasion has passed into the realm of the forgotten 
 and the allusions may seem to need the service of the 
 footnote commentator. That is indeed high praise for 
 occasional material. One and all they bubble with 
 happy humor, with bright pleasantry and tender sym- 
 pathy for all in life that is sweet and true and of good 
 report. 
 
 His ripest memory groups about the three series of 
 breakfast table papers, and after a long lapse of time 
 his happy return to that form in the papers collected 
 under the title "Over the Teacups." Had these papers 
 made their appearance in any magazine less famous than 
 the Atlantic of those days they would have served to 
 enrich its management. As it was they were accepted 
 with instant appreciation, even among the best of the 
 current literature, and entered upon that reception which 
 has set them in an individual niche in the literature of 
 our country. They were brilliant. Yes, but other 
 papers had been brilliant. To the brilliancy of the 
 breakfast table was joined pleasant humor, a sen- 
 timent that breathed health of soul, the blessing of humor 
 
 43
 
 i8o9 Oliver Wendell Holmes 1894 
 
 and such practical wisdom as seems normal to the New 
 England stock. They were written for no small class 
 of readers. Each of their elements served to attract 
 those to whom that most appealed, and once attracted 
 the reader welcomed them all. Other of the work of 
 that Boston group of which Dr. Holmes was by no means 
 the least has passed with the waning of its popularity 
 or the melioration of the conditions which called it into 
 being. But the Autocrat, the Professor, the Poet at the 
 Breakfast Table have in no degree lost their popular- 
 ity, and that with no stimulus of artificial vogue. 
 
 We should by no means lose sight of the fact that the 
 authorship was but the incident of a busy and beneficial 
 career. Dr. Holmes was graduated from Harvard be- 
 fore he had reached his twenty-first year and then took 
 up the study of law. The study of medicine came later, 
 for it was not until 1836 that he received his doctorate 
 in that art after several years in European hospitals. 
 His medical attainments were so marked that two years 
 after he had received his degree he was called to the pro- 
 fessorship of Anatomy and Physiology at Dartmouth, 
 a chair which he filled until in 1847 he was called to the 
 corresponding chair in the Massachusetts General Hos- 
 pital and there remained continuously until age forced 
 him to retire in 1882. "With all this busy life he yet 
 found time to be with individual distinction a man of 
 letters. It is as the man of letters of the fullest type that 
 his memory will live. 
 
 44
 
 JOHN CALVIN 
 
 From a painting by Hans Holbein 
 
 The Marvellous Year
 
 John Calvin 
 
 Bancroft, than whom no historian can be less under 
 the impress of the theological interest, has offered the 
 suggestion that the foundation of the government of the 
 United States rests upon Calvin's theories of ecclesias- 
 tical government as developed in the French Reformation 
 and in detail as extended from church administration to 
 the civil system of the Helvetic republic in which he 
 was the dominant influence. It is readily recognizable 
 that the parallelism of the ecclesiastical machinery of 
 sessions, presbyteries, synods and general assemblies 
 which inheres in our national scheme of representative 
 bodies from councils through legislatures to the Congress 
 is in its nature far too close to be ascribable to mere ac- 
 cident. This in particular adds local value to the cel- 
 ebration this year of the four hundredth anniversary of 
 the great figure of the reformed faith in France and above 
 all in Switzerland. 
 
 To Calvin, as to Luther, it was a holy cause to work 
 for the correction of the inevitable evils in the policy 
 and in the faith of that Catholic church to whose service 
 they had solemnly been set apart, to restore to it the 
 simplicity of the apostolic principle at least so far as 
 that had been codified and made of record by the earlier 
 fathers. There the resemblance ceases between the two 
 
 47
 
 1509 John Calvin 1564 
 
 great reformers, the leader of German protestantism, the 
 father of French reform. So far as is possible we shall 
 avoid the comparison and consider Calvin and Calvinism 
 apart from the parallel movement in the valley of the 
 Rhine. 
 
 Calvin richly repaid the advantages of professional 
 education which were offered him. In college at Paris, 
 in the universities which he frequented in succession at 
 Orleans and Bourges, his scholarship in Latin, in Greek 
 and in the law was of the most brilliant and even in 
 his student days justified his being called to lecture in 
 the place of absent masters. His early bent seemed fixed 
 upon some such position in the world of thought as was 
 filled by Erasmus. 
 
 It was not until he had well advanced into his twenty- 
 fourth year that he gave signs of the reform work in 
 which he was to arrive at such a commanding position. 
 In November, 1533, he prepared an address in the Uni- 
 versity of Paris upon the necessity of reforming the 
 church to the model as set forth in the New Testament, 
 and in this same year he dates his sudden conversion. 
 He was expelled from Paris for his heresy and entered 
 upon several years of uncertain wanderings. After a 
 year in Angouleme under the protection of Margaret of 
 Navarre he returned to Paris but was again expelled, 
 was obliged to flee the country and resigned his eccle- 
 siastical benefices. It was not until July, 1536, that he 
 found himself in Geneva with intent to pass no more 
 than a single night and be on his way, but was induced 
 48
 
 1509 John Calvin 1564 
 
 to assume the pastorate of the struggling evangelical 
 church. In the time to come Geneva was to be the scene 
 of his greatest triumphs, was to lie in the hollow of his 
 hand; but Geneva was not yet ripe for her master in 
 things temporal as well as things spiritual. His dis- 
 cipline was too stern and he was banished in April, 1538. 
 After taking refuge successively in Bern, Ziirich and 
 Basel he began his pastorate in Strassburg in September 
 of that year, there married and awaited the recall. In 
 1541 Geneva besought his return, he fought political and 
 ecclesiastical opposition in a ten years battle and he 
 conquered the city for his own, not only the city but all 
 the faith which turned to Geneva for its model. There 
 after twenty-three years of this second pastorate, he died. 
 Calvinism, straitest of the sects of Protestantism 
 though it is, the historian finds it hard to classify as 
 heresy. It was not a new interpretation of the Scrip- 
 tures. It was not an innovation in the theology of the 
 church. It is difficult to find grounds for classifying as 
 false doctrine in the sixteenth century that which was 
 accepted as valid patristic faith in the fifth century. In 
 its essence Calvinism was but the modern restatement 
 of the theology which obtained acceptance at the earlier 
 date under the incontestable authority of the sainted 
 Augustine, Bishop of Hippo Regius. To attempt the 
 explanation of how the church in its opposition to Cal- 
 vinism reconciled itself with its earlier and unquestioned 
 sanction of Augustinianism would introduce the polemic 
 element. To present here even the briefest syllabus 
 
 49
 
 1509 John Calvin 1564 
 
 of Calvin's restoration of Saint Augustine's plan would 
 be tedious. 
 
 More to the purpose is it to examine what the progress 
 of Calvinism has been in its course beside the Lutheran 
 stream. 
 
 Four centuries ago neither men nor their times were 
 ripe for the idea that dogma might remain essentially 
 free under a system of government which would allow 
 faith its utmost absolutism of freedom. We have al- 
 ready commented upon the fact that Calvin's Geneva 
 was Calvin's not only as the fiery pastor of the evangeli- 
 cal faith but as master and theocrat. We have seen that 
 Bancroft in his sage view of the evolution of republican 
 institutions has recognized that our political system owes 
 a great debt to his constitution of Geneva and his church 
 at large. Through a channel possibly less direct our 
 institutions owe yet another debt to Calvin which falls 
 not one whit below that which Bancroft has indicated. 
 This lies in the solution of many of our constitutional 
 questions, the basic theory of popular control of the 
 heads of government, the people's right to impose tax- 
 ation through its own most popular body of representa- 
 tives. These we inherit from our English origin. That 
 we found them an inheritance at the critical point of 
 our independence rests upon the fact that it was the 
 Calvinism of England, in even stronger measure the Cal- 
 vinism of Scotland which rescued the United Kingdom 
 from autocracy and fitted it for the principles of constitu- 
 tional government in the interest of the people. 
 
 50
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON 
 
 From a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 
 The Marvelious Year
 
 Samuel Johnson 
 
 The father of the English dictionary, the great lex- 
 icographer (the word recalls to smiling fancy the parting 
 of Miss Becky Sharp from scholastic scenes when she 
 cast the "dixonary" at the astounded feet of the mistress 
 of Minerva House) is a man known intimately to our 
 age through the appreciation of his friends long after his 
 own efforts have passed to forgetfulness. 
 
 We know Dr. Johnson to have been an indefatigable 
 writer. But he wrote for Grub Street, a publisher's 
 hack. Literature in his time was a trade, its emoluments 
 were less than the wage of a competent mechanic, the 
 man who practised what has now become the profession 
 of letters was the man who had failed of securing a live- 
 lihood through more gainful employments. The story 
 of such hacks is the pitiful tale of debt and distress 
 and bailiffs at the door and prison with which the society 
 of that time punished the crime of being poor. 
 
 We know that Johnson wrote much, he made a style 
 of pseudo-classic massiveness to which his name has been 
 given in designation. Yet who now recalls a single one 
 of these works, who can quote from the product of his 
 pen, who can cite even so much as a single name ? 
 
 It is only by the dictionary that Johnson has impressed 
 us through his own writings. Even that impress is no 
 
 53
 
 1709 Samuel Johnson 1784 
 
 more than an entry in the history of lexicography. It is 
 as with the English Bible, one knows that Tyndale, 
 Miles Coverdale, the Bishops, were responsible in their 
 succession for versions of the Scriptures in the vernacular, 
 mere names in literary or theological history; one reads 
 the King James version. So in like manner one recalls 
 that Dr. Johnson compiled the first of the English dic- 
 tionaries, one uses Webster or Worcester while awaiting 
 the completion of the Oxford Dictionary, the Johnson 
 dictionary remains to the curious only as a monument 
 of progress, the first step in a great art. 
 
 Yet the Johnson dictionary is still worthy of careful 
 study. The good doctor found his mother tongue at 
 the mercy of every changing breeze of fashion, spelling 
 and definition were alike uncertain, and etymology was 
 represented largely by a blundering mass of false anal- 
 ogy. His task was double. He had first to collect the 
 language as it was known to him and to fix in the record 
 that which hitherto had been at the mercy of fleeting 
 memory. His next duty was to exercise a judicial func- 
 tion upon the material thus assembled, to fix standards 
 of orthography, and spelling was then worse confusion 
 than it is now; to correct definition and to expurgate 
 the false sense which had crept into many general usages. 
 It is true that in his passing of sentence upon the speech 
 he was always dogmatic, frequently artificial, sometimes 
 wholly at fault. One cannot find much heart to blame 
 him when it is recalled that our own Webster was equally 
 stern, equally devoted to making the language what it 
 
 54
 
 1709 Samuel Johnson 1784 
 
 should be rather than recording what it was. Early edi- 
 tions of Webster will show his set purpose to hang, to 
 draw, to quarter so inoffensive a word as bridegroom, 
 in his first edition it finds no entry at all save as it is 
 pilloried in a footnote as an error under the entry of 
 bridegoom. Yet despite the accuracy of his etymology 
 our brides have ever refused to enter the holy estate 
 of matrimony with any such oddity as a bridegoom. 
 With Webster, with Johnson before him, the genius of 
 the speech has overcome the speculation of the theorist. 
 We therefore honor Dr. Johnson for the beginnmg of 
 English lexicography, we leave his dictionary untouched 
 upon the dusty shelves of those libraries which are cem- 
 eteries. 
 
 His works are forgotten, even the dictionary, yet no 
 man of his time lives more intimately to us than Samuel 
 Johnson. It is a rare case, when a man's work is dead 
 the man himself in most cases dies too. Yet Johnson 
 lives. His life is not in what he did himself but in what 
 his friends have told us about his doings. We know 
 Johnson intimately, yet our knowledge lies upon what 
 he did for others his contemporaries. 
 
 He was blessed with the power to be a close friend 
 to men and women who had it in them to welcome such 
 friendship and to return its treasures. Just how that 
 may have been we cannot now know when the element 
 of personal charm has passed and eluded all attempt 
 to fix it for our future age. From the written record 
 we can scarcely understand Johnson in the warmth of 
 
 55
 
 1709 Samuel Johnson 1784 
 
 personal intimacy, we fear that his manner might prove 
 forbidding, his dominance of his society not altogether 
 easy to bear. But these are speculations on which we 
 have no right to enter, his contemporaries found him lov- 
 able, and theirs was the privilege to hear the cordial 
 intonation, to catch the interested flash of the eye, to 
 note the many glints of sympathy which no words can 
 ever transmit. He knew the best souls of his time and 
 they were glad to put him at the head of their society. 
 There was Mrs. Thrale: how many dishes of tea did he 
 drink with her in a sitting? Twenty-seven, was it not? 
 Yet forgetting this aqueduct tax upon housekeeping 
 Mrs. Thrale loved him. Sir Joshua Reynolds'? Almost 
 cut off from the pleasure of social intercourse by his deaf- 
 ness Sir Joshua could have none too much of Johnson. 
 And Oliver Goldsmith? There's the Irish temperament, 
 one can scarcely imagine the bubbling Goldsmith bring- 
 ing himself to tolerate ponderous discourse, yet Gold- 
 smith worshipped his Dr. Johnson. 
 
 And the best of all, Boswell. There was a man con- 
 tent to perform an act of complete self-obliteration. It 
 is Boswell's Johnson who lives for us, yet how small an 
 impress Johnson's Boswell has left of himself upon his 
 record of his friend. 
 
 It is thus that we know Johnson, the good friend of 
 the good, his own work gone into oblivion, his life a 
 household tale because of the loving record of those be- 
 tween whom and him was simple love. 
 56
 
 CHARLES DARWIN 
 
 Tlie Man-elious Ytar
 
 Charles Darwin 
 
 The year is doubly rich in Darwin memorial, the hun- 
 dredth anniversary of the year that gave him to the world, 
 the fiftieth anniversary of his great gift to the world, 
 "The Origin of Species." 
 
 In glancing over Darwin's early life the attention is 
 caught at once by the fact that he who was to effect such 
 a revolution in the world's thought could in the world 
 of thought upon which he entered find so little for his 
 preparation to live. Sent first to Edinburgh to go into 
 training for medicine, afterward at Cambridge to fit him 
 for the church, he recoiled from a curriculum that was 
 lifeless. His strictures upon the lecture courses at each 
 university serve but to set a more acute accent upon his 
 acknowledgment of his great debt to influences outside 
 the curriculum which did so much to form him for the 
 great work in life upon which he was to enter, the sym- 
 pathetic intercourse with naturalists, curators, even with 
 a negro bird stuffer at Edinburgh. 
 
 Thus passing unharmed through the dead routine of 
 two great seats of learning, gathering great food from 
 sources wholly outside the monotonous level of daily 
 task, he began to study only when he accompanied Cap- 
 tain Fitzroy in the voyage of the Beagle^ a ship and a 
 commander which live in intellectual memory only by 
 
 59
 
 i8o9 Charles Darwin 1882 
 
 reason of the young student who held a position so sub- 
 ordinate. That voyage was his term of study; botany, 
 zoology, geology, the great trivium of life history, were 
 his pursuit in the field. How close were his powers of 
 , observation in the collection of material, how sedulous 
 were his methods of research, these are abundantly illus- 
 trated in his "Monograph on the Cirripedia," the embodi- 
 ment of the results of eight years of unremitting toil. 
 
 When Darwin entered upon his life work there was a 
 sacred canon in systematic biology. The Species was 
 godgiven, immutable, the unchanging unit of all life. 
 It had passed from memory that Species was of human 
 invention, it had become fetish, god. Men postulated, 
 then believed as proved, better yet held as an article 
 of faith which transcends proof, that in certain forms of 
 plants and animals there were characters fixed beyond 
 the power of change, that transmutation from one to the 
 other was forever prohibited, that they were species ab- 
 solutely fixed and unchangeable. Within the limits of 
 any one of these fixed species certain minor modifica- 
 tions were held possible, there might, therefore, be vari- 
 eties of the species. But the species itself was a sacred 
 unit. This was orthodox biology, as such it was Dar- 
 win's first creed. 
 
 Heresy, however, had arisen. Lamarck had felt 
 doubt as to the immutability of this sacred species, he 
 had already ventured expression of his opinion that trans- 
 mutation of species might take place, and if such should 
 prove to be fact that such transmutation was chiefly due 
 60
 
 i8o9 Charles Darwin 1882 
 
 to two influences, the environment, understanding 
 thereby the totality of surrounding external circumstan- 
 ces ; and the effect of the use and disuse of parts. These 
 i two influences have passed into record as the Lamarckian 
 factors of evolution. 
 
 Led to the same doubt as to fixity of species Darwin 
 found the principal causes of mutability to lie in natural 
 selection and sexual selection, to which has been assigned 
 the designation of the Darwinian factors of evolution. 
 Of the former of these factors his own definition stands 
 as a classic. "This preservation of favorable individual 
 differences and variations, and the destruction of those 
 which are injurious, I have called Natural Selection, or 
 Survival of the Fittest." 
 
 When the "Origin of Species" was produced a half 
 century ago, strangely and generously paralleled by the 
 similar work of Alfred Russel Wallace, the whole study 
 of biology was put upon a new basis. One can but won- 
 der at the ease with which the revolution was accom- 
 plished, yet the wonder vanishes at sight of the com- 
 pelling quality of the proof and the evidence upon which 
 it is based. 
 
 Opposition was to develop, but it was to come from 
 a source external to the field of biological science. It 
 was impossible for Darwin to stop short of the extension 
 of his discovery to the species which stands at the summit 
 of life. The principles set forth in the study of the 
 variations whereby species under certain conditions pass 
 slowly and insensibly into other species must be vital 
 
 61
 
 i8o9 Charles Darwin 1882 
 
 in the study of the man species. In 1871 "The Descent 
 of Man" was published and the storm broke from the 
 theological quarter. In the earlier work the whole 
 theory of special creation had been wiped out of exist- 
 ence, yet nowhere had such a result been set forth in so 
 many words and in the sluggishness which has ever char- 
 acterized the attitude of theology to science the older 
 branch of learning had failed to discover the upheaval 
 which had taken place. That storm broke in fury, the 
 battle raged for years over man held to be the one and 
 sacred exception to the law of nature. No more dig- 
 nified form can be conceived than that of Darwin, the 
 weaker of his adherents temporizing, popular indigna- 
 tion brought to bear upon him, yet remaining a steadfast 
 soul proving point after point with calm precision. 
 
 Years have gone by since the world of thought was con- 
 vulsed with that great conflict. The virulence of the 
 attack was so great that the principles which Darwin 
 upheld were set backward. New investigators were led 
 to present modifications which with more or less adroit- 
 ness might escape the force of the attack. Other students 
 have propounded other theories designed to supplant the 
 basic principles which Darwin presented and for which 
 he suffered. But time has been a juster judge. For a 
 time discredited, yet far less than was the popular esti- 
 mate, the fiftieth anniversary of what may well be called 
 Darwinism has seen his principles restored to their po- 
 sition of preeminence, the basis of modern scientific 
 thought and method. 
 62
 
 ALFRED. LORD TENNYSON 
 
 The Marvellous Year
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 
 
 A court must of necessity be middle class, middle class 
 with embroidery. The greater the court the thicker the 
 embroidery. Therein lies the difference between courts. 
 
 What a court may do for poetry the epic will show. 
 Vivid, rude, instinct with life and its interests the 
 Homeric poems were the songs of a people, the songs 
 sung to interested folk by wandering rhapsodists. Pro- 
 vided the narrative caught and held their attention the 
 hearers were willing to overlook the crudeness of manner. 
 Only in a court, embroidered middle class, could Vergil 
 make the epic a work of art, finely polished, the delight 
 of a critical culture. In his capable hands, under the 
 fostering warmth of the court of Augustus, the epic be- 
 came an exercise of intellectual agility, a thing fine pol- 
 ished, no longer of the people, a work of art. 
 
 For ages the English folk had had its store of song, 
 the song of the wandering gleeman. To the laity it 
 passed for history of England in its yet glorious past. 
 For such hedgerow auditors was no thought of historical 
 criticism. To them Robin Hood was as real as Richard 
 the King, not until later times was he made an Earl. 
 The glory of Britain was bound up in the tales of Arthur 
 and the Round Table, chronology all uncertain but exist- 
 
 65
 
 i8o9 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1892 
 
 ence sure. Sir Launcelot, Sir Galahad, Modred, Guene- 
 vere, Merlin, these were real. \'ivid, they were crude; 
 they were fitted to the popular mind which absorbed them 
 with breathless interest. 
 
 From such store Tennyson drew the material which 
 for the court he graced he handled with Vergilian skill 
 and finish. He was the Vergil of a court of empire 
 greater than Augustus ever knew, of better morals per- 
 haps, for morals change with the passing of the ages, cer- 
 tainly middle class because a court, not inferior in em- 
 broidery. 
 
 Poetry was not dead in England when Tennyson 
 served his court. The great voice of life, its joys, its 
 woes, broke into rhythmic expression, yet the court had 
 its \'ergil. Always accurate, always sure never to offend, 
 the Laureate year in and year out might be counted on 
 to render his due meed of ode and song to throne and 
 England's glory. That pipe of sherry must be earned 
 before it could be broached. 
 
 We cannot avoid the Vergilianism of Tennyson, the 
 poet through long years of a court still longer yeared. 
 It shows itself in his close adhesion to that life principle 
 which the English call good form. It shows itself in the 
 painful finish of his verse. Poetry with him is not the 
 amusement of the hedgerow throng to be recompensed by 
 a toss of ale or coin thrown ungrudgingly into the glee- 
 man's hat, it is art to be made as trig and trim in vesture 
 as the three feathers without which England's woman- 
 kind may not pass curtseying before the throne. In 
 66 '
 
 i8o9 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1892 
 
 either case Gold Stick in Waiting stands as constable of 
 the proprieties. 
 
 To some men such a position would be stifling. Ten- 
 nyson fitted the place just as the post at court fitted him, 
 an essential design in the pattern of the embroidery. 
 From his earliest efforts with the still unfamiliar lyre we 
 find him in possession of that fineness of taste, that es- 
 sence of good breeding which later was to serve as war- 
 rant to the court that he would ever be safe, that his part 
 in embroidered pageant would always be in harmony with 
 the general design. Outside the precincts of the court 
 other poets might break through the blanket of the com- 
 monplace, they might cry in numbers sentiments that 
 were either not understood or were considered anything 
 but mannerly. Tennyson, no. He was Laureate, an 
 officer of the court, a tried and trusted modulator of the 
 oat, an English Vergil prepared to sing the praise of all 
 that bore official approval, and like Vergil grateful. Yet 
 if the muse is to enter the service of a court no court was 
 ever better served with its dish of verse. There is no 
 blemish on the polish of Tennyson's verse, no point of 
 good form is omitted, the habiliments are just such as 
 ceremonial prescribes shall appear in the royal drawing- 
 room. 
 
 The singer for a court sings for a larger audience, an 
 audience whose approval is assured under the most pos- 
 itive guarantees. Thus Tennyson was the poet of all 
 that is respectable in England, of all throughout the 
 English speaking world that keeps a gig. A great audi- 
 
 67
 
 i809 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1892 
 
 ence, an obedient audience, one prompt to echo in its 
 applause the approval from above. To be a poet is 
 much, to be a praised poet is more. 
 
 Yet one wonders what would have been made of the 
 poetical life of Tennyson had his lines been cast in other 
 places; if he had failed of appointment as a court pur- 
 veyor, if he had sung for a smaller audience and a more 
 appreciative because more critical. 
 
 Rarely, very rarely did he venture away from the 
 swinging of the censer. His "Northern Farmer" stands 
 almost alone. It is Hodge, and what has Hodge to do 
 with Queens and belted Earls save only to be pictur- 
 esque in his smock by the wayside. The "Northern 
 Farmer" was a timid essay in another field of life, a 
 life grimy handed and creaking in the joints, a life in 
 which Tennyson saw little and gave to others to see 
 still less. But in his formal work there is the bursting 
 through of feeling that he could not quite smooth out, 
 there are spots in which the poetical fire burns with an 
 open flame, flickering in the wind, but hotter by many 
 degrees than the radiance which filtered from the 
 candelabras of the presence room. It is a Tantalus task 
 to pick them out, but ever and anon they come upon the 
 appreciation with assurance that the Laureate had it in 
 him to be poet as well. 
 
 But then, there was always the civil list and that pipe 
 of sherry and those few pounds of annual fee. Our 
 Vergils are not badly placed. 
 68
 
 FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE 
 
 Thf Marvellous Year
 
 Fanny Kemble 
 
 In the last two centuries the annals of the English 
 stage have recorded few names more distinguished than 
 that of any one of the Kembles chosen at large, and in the 
 course of three generations the choice is a wide one. 
 Certainly no family has attained greater distinction. 
 
 We must go back to the grandfather to begin to orient 
 ourselves for the proper appreciation of the Kembles. 
 The founder of the house, for to the aristocracy of the- 
 atrical art will surely be permitted the phrase adopted 
 by the aristocracy of mere place, the first of the Kembles 
 was Roger, actor and manager. It is echoed from the 
 early eighteenth century that he was a good actor, but 
 whatever fame he may have enjoyed is dimmed by the 
 greater radiance of his children's renown. There were 
 many of these children, twelve of them, five of them on 
 the stage, two of the girls, three of the boys. One of 
 each came to the height of renown, names which are yet 
 on the theatrical roll of fame, Mrs. Siddons the oldest 
 of the family, and John Philip Kemble, the "great Kem- 
 ble," the oldest of the sons. 
 
 As was the case with the grandfather so was Fanny's 
 father set into the background by the higher fame of his 
 two great elders. Yet Charles Kemble, the eleventh 
 
 71
 
 i8o9 Fr.'Vnces Anne Kemble 1893 
 
 child of Roger, was held by his contemporaries to be no 
 mean actor. Unfortunately his leaning was toward the 
 comic roles and the glories of that age were for the tragic 
 parts. Yet we know that he made great successes of 
 Benedick, Petruchio and Charles Surface. His career 
 was at least sufficiently creditable to secure for him the 
 post of examiner of plays, in which he is expressly said 
 to have exercised a wise discretion and to have shown 
 a fine sense of what was best suited to the English public. 
 His daughter, Frances Anne Kemble, whom the world 
 refuses to remember save under the affectionate dimin- 
 utive of Fanny, was born to the family tradition and to 
 the family talent. To any Kemble, a name to conjure 
 with a hundred years ago, all avenues to theatrical prog- 
 ress were open, and it is with no surprise that we find 
 her before her twentieth birthday making her appearance 
 at Covent Garden as Juliet to her father's Romeo. Her 
 audience was sympathetic from the start, they were under 
 the dominance of the Kemble tradition. It was not long 
 before the new Kemble was welcomed for herself, in 
 her earliest scenes she won her audiences to a cordial ap- 
 preciation of her own charm, of her own power. Wel- 
 comed as a new Kemble upon the boards her first per- 
 formance made her Fanny to her public. There was no 
 question of her talent, that was at once acknowledged. 
 Other Kembles had swayed their audiences by power, 
 Fanny won them by her sweetness. She was not to re- 
 place Mrs. Siddons or her other distinguished aunt Eliz- 
 abeth, Mrs. Whitlock. She was from the first a new and 
 
 72
 
 i8o9 Frances Anne Kemble 1893 
 
 unfamiliar manifestation of Kemble art, yet none the less 
 welcome by reason of the dissimilarity, none the less 
 successful through avoiding the comparison that would 
 otherwise have been inevitable. 
 
 Upon her first success in the greatest of Shakespeare's 
 heroines followed with no diminution of art in portrayal, 
 with no loss of the popular approval which that art 
 earned for her, equal successes in Portia, Julia in "The 
 Hunchback," Bianca, Belvidera and Lady Teazle. For 
 three years on end she was the idol of the London stage. 
 
 Now we come to her American career beginning in 
 1832. Its promise was of the brightest, its fulfilment 
 was misery. Her London reputation had gone before 
 her overseas, a public was already awaiting her on the 
 western shore of the Atlantic. For two years she en- 
 joyed a complete triumph, New York and Philadelphia 
 could not view her other than London had done, would 
 not if they could. At the height of her success she gave 
 up the stage in answer to what she believed a happier 
 call. In 1834 she became the wife of Pierce Butler and 
 found a home on his plantation in Georgia. Unfortun- 
 ately the home proved unhappy, the marriage failed of 
 its early promise, we need not now recall the difficulties 
 which wrecked the love on the plantation, suffice it to 
 say that after fourteen years they were divorced in 1848. 
 
 Fanny Kemble, for she at once reverted to the name 
 which she had made famous, did not return to the stage. 
 Some have thought that her possession of the family tal- 
 ent for the stage was not wholly inspired by the family 
 
 73
 
 i8o9 FRy\NCES Anne Kemble 1893 
 
 passion which had kept others of the family going ever 
 on from success to success. Be that as it may she avoided 
 in her next venture in life the harder work of the theatre 
 and renewed her acquaintance with her public with read- 
 ings from Shakespeare, dramatic recitations rather. In 
 the constitution of American society as it then was, the 
 theatre to many and those not the least influential being 
 a place to be shunned, this career extended her popular- 
 ity, for she reached a yet wider audience. Readings 
 from Shakespeare passed innocuously as literature, the 
 same Shakespeare on the boards might be sin. Under 
 these conditions she found a yet wider host of friends 
 and a second time repeated her earlier success. 
 
 In i860 the call of home became strong. She had been 
 almost a third of a century in America but England was 
 drawing her. After that date she spent most of her life 
 in her girlhood home and after 1877 returned no more 
 to the land which so warmly had adopted her and had 
 given such cordial sympathy in her sorrows. 
 
 Fanny Kemble did not rest wholly content with the 
 portrayal of the thought of others. When she was but 
 seventeen she had written a play, "Francis the First" 
 and it was produced in London, but with no great suc- 
 cess. She wrote much verse, as did others of her time, 
 and some of it was published in now forgotten volumes. 
 The student of the past still finds interest in her "Journal 
 of a Residence in America" written shortly after her mar- 
 riage, and the "Residence on a Georgia Plantation." 
 
 74
 
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 FRAN2 JOSEPH HAYDN 
 
 The Mari^ilous Year
 
 Franz Joseph Haydn 
 
 The year which saw the birth of Mendelssohn regis- 
 tered the death of the old master whom he was in time 
 to supplant in the world of music. Nothing could be 
 more dissimilar than the conditions under which the two 
 men entered upon life, the two masters upon their art. 
 The younger became the heir of a fecund century of 
 music, Haydn had almost to create that art for himself. 
 Mendelssohn was born to ease, to cultivated society, to 
 every advantage; Haydn at his birth at Rohrau, Austria, 
 March 31, 1732, was the son of a wheelwright, and the 
 home of a mechanic in an obscure town in those days 
 was the abode of poverty, of want. But in the home of 
 the poor wheelright was the blessing of music, his parents 
 knew at least enough to know that their child had talent. 
 
 Because Haydn was a master it will not be tedious to 
 sketch the hardships of the course by which he rose to the 
 command of his art. At the age of five he passed under 
 the care of a distant relative, the schoolmaster of Hain- 
 burg, who directed his education for the next three years. 
 In this brief period of education music held an important 
 place, the boy was taught in the elements, his voice was 
 cultivated, he learned the violin and other instruments, 
 
 77
 
 1732 Franz Joseph Haydn 1809 
 
 among them the drum, of which it is said he was parti- 
 cularly fond. 
 
 At eight he was taken into the cathedral of St. Stephen 
 at Vienna as choir boy, learning from example, forever 
 practicing to improve himself, even composing a mass 
 at thirteen which moved his kapellmeister, Reuter, to 
 scorn. When his voice changed he was discharged from 
 the cathedral choir penniless and with nowhere to turn. 
 To the charity of a poor barber he owed his garret bed 
 and access to a decrepit harpsichord; lessons and odd 
 employment with the violin and organ enabled him to 
 study yet further in his art until he had mastered Bach's 
 style and had felt the influence of Sammartini. For the 
 sake of his music he engaged with Porpora as a menial, 
 a body servant; it remains a credit to that composer that 
 he soon admitted his valet to the fellowship of their com- 
 mon art, made him his accompanist, his companion, his 
 pupil. 
 
 The days of hardship, the days of the struggle for the 
 daily bread and for the knowledge of music, came to an 
 end in Haydn's twenty-eighth year when he was ap- 
 pointed kapellmeister by Prince Esterhazy, a post which 
 he held from 1760 until 1790, in a warm friendship of 
 art sympathy which endured until the death of the 
 Prince. To this calm refuge we owe the 150 composi- 
 tions for the violoncello, since his patron was an amateur 
 of that instrument and possessed no mean ability. In 
 78
 
 1732 Franz Joseph Haydn 1809 
 
 this reposeful period of prosperity must be placed his 
 luckless marriage. He married the sister of the poor 
 barber who had opened the garret to the ruined chorister. 
 It was unhappy, it was no union. Haydn's generosity 
 to his torment was such that in their separation he crip- 
 pled his financial resources; fortunately his art was safe 
 above these trials. 
 
 During these thirty creative years he remained in the 
 Esterhazy palace closely attentive to his duties. His 
 fame, none the less, had extended far beyond Vienna 
 and Austria, it had reached so far as England. The first 
 opportunity afforded the master to discover what warmth 
 of appreciation was awaiting him in the wider world of 
 music was when he went to England in 1790 on the in- 
 vitation of his admirers. His reception in the English 
 capital was enthusiastic, it was profitable as well, a mat- 
 ter of great concern since his accumulations in his thirty 
 years of ease were no more than $5,000. 
 
 At the period of his English visits (he returned to Lon- 
 don a second time in 1795) he turned his attention to 
 vocal music. Thitherto he had composed only for the 
 single instrument, for the orchestra and for the quartet 
 of strings, of which form of expression he was the father 
 and for which he wrote 83 compositions. So great was 
 his mastery of instrumental music that he is credited with 
 having done more for that art than any hundred of those 
 who had gone before him. The classic form of the sym- 
 
 79
 
 1732 Franz Joseph Haydn 1809 
 
 phony we owe to him as well; he established in that mode 
 the principle of lucidity of ideas, of consistent symmetry 
 in their development and treatment accompanied with 
 the utmost finish of phrasing. He wrote no less than 
 twelve symphonies for his London reception, and these 
 are counted among his highest productions, and his pro- 
 ductions in this mode number no less than 118 in the 
 total of more than 800 of his complete works. 
 
 He had passed his sixtieth year when he first essayed 
 the oratorio and found that upon the human voice he 
 could play as brilliantly as upon the other instruments 
 of music to which he had devoted his life. Neither in 
 "The Seasons" nor in "The Creation" is there anything 
 to indicate that he was essaying a new mode of expres- 
 sion, his perfection of method gave full vent to the free 
 expression of the joyousness of his nature. Few of his 
 works appear on modern programmes, but "The Crea- 
 tion" has a lasting freshness that finds for it entrance 
 into the greater music festivals. 
 
 Haydn fairly dominated the music of Great Britain 
 for the first third of the nineteenth century. He was the 
 standard. Success of the younger composers was meas- 
 ured by their fidelity to the Haydn method, even imita- 
 tion was counted better than the attempt to depart from 
 those accepted ideas of treatment. It was not until 
 Mendelssohn appeared upon the scene with his youthful 
 freshness that the classical severity began to yield to sim- 
 pler even though more florid art. 
 80
 
 NIKOLAI VASILIEVITCH GOGOL 
 
 The Marvellous Year
 
 Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol 
 
 From the necessities of art criticism has arisen a specific 
 locution as to manner, the earlier manner of a worker, 
 his later manner. Such an expression but scantily does 
 justice to Gogol. The change in him was more than 
 that of mere manner, it amounts to a complete reversal 
 of personality, he was two men wholly distinct. In six 
 years in his third decade he became a bitter partisan of 
 absolutism and the autocracy from which Russia has not 
 yet emerged, in his life a gloomy ascetic, in his religion 
 a dark mystic and a fanatic. Yet these six years, 
 1842-48, in which the change registered itself were passed 
 in the free air of Italy and followed immediately upon 
 the production of his masterpiece of "Chichagov, or the 
 Dead Souls." With this gloomy Gogol we shall con- 
 cern ourselves not at all. 
 
 In his earlier years he was the hope of Russia, the 
 voice of freedom in the autocracy, the unsparing satirist 
 of corruption, the promise of far better things to come. 
 More than that he was one of the earliest as he was 
 among the greatest of those whose fame passed the Cos- 
 sack-vexed frontier and spread to western Europe the 
 news that in the dulness of Russia a national literature 
 was awaking that was worthy to take its place among 
 
 83
 
 i8o9 Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol 1852 
 
 the great achievements of mankind. He was the idol 
 of young Russia, the inspired leader of all bright and 
 brave minds who had the hardihood to allow free vent 
 to the enthusiasms of youth. 
 
 Before his majority he was admitted to the lower orders 
 of the Chinovnik, that engine of bureaucracy which then 
 as now was corrupt and inefficient, a dull barrier between 
 the enlightenment of the sovereign and the enfranchise- 
 ment of the people. Such an appointment must be criti- 
 cal to a soul with aspirations. Gogol might have yielded 
 to the iron system, might have accepted the lethargy of a 
 routine of fixed plunder and in time might have risen to 
 the dull eminence of a pillaged competence, rank and the 
 glittering bauble of decorations. But such was not for 
 him, he could not suffer himself to become a mere unit in 
 such a machine, he was wholly useless as a Government 
 clerk and his resignation after a short experiment was 
 undoubtedly as satisfactory to his superiors as it was en- 
 franchising to him. 
 
 It came to pass that he found his true vocation in 
 his twenty-first year, when his powers of expression lifted 
 him away from the redtape routine. It was then that 
 he published in a literary magazine the first of those 
 sketches of Russian life away from the great towns which 
 became in time the volume of "Evenings on a Farm near 
 Dikanka." The first of these stories showed his mastery 
 of expression, for the style was finished and strong, and 
 its reception to favor was immediate. Even this early 
 84
 
 i8o9 Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol 1852 
 
 work was clear realism, he reported what he saw in the 
 unchanging routine of old Slavonic life, what any one 
 might see who had eyes wherewith to see; but he saw 
 far deeper, his art lay in presenting convincingly the 
 hidden springs, the underlying motives, the soul of that 
 Russian life, dull and dead though it might seem at its 
 homeliest, rude and savage when exploded into ac- 
 tion. Young as he was and wholly unknown this work 
 lifted him to the first rank of Russian literary creation. 
 
 It was natural that his brilliant success in the record 
 of Slavonic life should fix his attentions upon the graver 
 expansion of the same material, which he and his admir- 
 ers felt he knew so well and had handled with such ex- 
 cellence. He projected a history of Little Russia on a 
 large scale of philosophical inquiry, he blocked out his 
 plans and collected the material. Such a work of re- 
 search was beyond the means of a young man just engag- 
 ing life and he was forced to enter upon the weary, 
 and as it proved unsuccessful, search for patronage which 
 would enable him to devote all his energies to his project. 
 Failing in this he was obliged to relinquish his graver 
 work. 
 
 But as a by-product of this search for a patron he was 
 appointed adjunct professor in the chair of history of the 
 University of St. Petersburg. He could not teach and 
 his professorship was wholly useless save as providing 
 him a living. He severed his connection with the uni- 
 versity after a few vain years. Yet the years had not 
 
 85
 
 i8o9 Nikolai Vasilievitch Gogol 1852 
 
 been vain for his art, for in that period he had written 
 his "Arabesques," his "Taras Bulba" and a large number 
 of smaller works, all works of realism saturated with 
 cynic humor and laughing satire such as possess a partic- 
 ular appeal to the Russian character. 
 
 It was at this period that he produced his comedy of 
 "Revizor," an instant success and not entirely vanished 
 from the stage to-day outside of Russia. Gogol had not 
 forgotten his first essay in the government service, he 
 had observed shrewdly and had stored his ready mind 
 with abundance of material out of which to form this 
 comedy of official manners. Revizor is a government in- 
 spector, a stupid yet rapacious specimen of his class. 
 The piece is too bitter for comedy, it was a scathing satire 
 upon the corruption of the ruling class, a dashing expos- 
 ure of its inefficiency in all but peculation. 
 
 Next came, in 1842, his masterpiece, "Chichagov," 
 an impassioned presentation of the evils of serfdom and 
 an inspired plea for its abolition. With telling force he 
 uses the weapon of ridicule, savage ridicule and at times 
 broad farce, but he knew thoroughly the people for whom 
 he was writing and could forge the most potent blade 
 against them. 
 
 At the pinnacle of his success he left Russia for a resi- 
 dence in Italy and there underwent the change which de- 
 stroyed his art and in a few brief years returned him the 
 reactionary, the Jerusalem pilgrim, the dark fanatic. 
 86
 
 WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE 
 
 Tht Marvellous Year
 
 William Ewart Gladstone 
 
 Tt is more than a little the irony of life that the pro- 
 foundest successes of any statesman should lie in the 
 brilliancy of his execution of measures which he at first 
 opposed and finally was obliged to accept when forced 
 upon him by the act of the party in opposition. 
 
 By birth and tradition as well as by education Glad- 
 stone belonged to that long dominant party of English 
 administration which saw the hope of the nation in the 
 continuance of government by an aristocracy. When 
 he was making ready for his public career his hopes of 
 preferment, of successful use of his great powers, lay 
 in the continuance of that system which had seemed to 
 England the only proper representation, the dominance 
 of the great families and its necessary concomitant of 
 the rotten boroughs. Yet the young Tory was to become 
 the great Liberal, the mainspring of popular government 
 in Great Britain, even to make some progress in extend- 
 ing that principle to the United Kingdom. 
 
 It was not Gladstone's ideal to mass Great Britain and 
 her colonies under the imperial idea. It was Disraeli 
 who put upon the head of his royal mistress the imperial 
 crown and gave to her the new title of Kaisar-i-Hind. 
 Yet it was Gladstone upon whom fell the task of com- 
 pacting that empire, of establishing its system of admin- 
 
 89
 
 i8o9 William Ewart Gladstone 1898 
 
 istration, of bringing into real existence that which his 
 great rival had forced upon him as little more than a 
 name. In such form as the British Empire to-day is 
 great its greatness is mainly due to Gladstone's genius 
 in the extension of the old constitutional principles to 
 the new and enormously enlarged conditions without 
 wresting them so far from their ancient sense as to create 
 a peril to rights at home while making new rights abroad. 
 
 "Within the limits of a sketch such as this there is no 
 opportunity, nor is there need, to pass in review the 
 statesmanship of this great English leader of the state 
 or to indicate any of the benefits which his wise leader- 
 ship has extended as far as the British empire reaches. 
 But we may with benefit examine in brief survey some 
 of the elements which entered into his career both at 
 St. Stephen's and at Hawarden. 
 
 Leadership seems scarcely to have come to Gladstone 
 by birth, as it does to some leaders. His was the appeal 
 to the intellect, not the challenge to the surprised senti- 
 ment which meets the call with sentimental loyalty. 
 Some men have the magnetic personality which can tune 
 the ringing voice to the cry of "follow" and at once an 
 army dashes forward at the double with no thought of 
 what the end may be. Gladstone led his parliamentary 
 forces with no such shout. His was the art to argue, 
 to pile logic upon proof, example upon reason until the 
 opposition was buried under his weight of reasoning. 
 His was the art of figures, he showed how the national 
 90
 
 i8o9 William Ewart Gladstone 1898 
 
 pocket was touched, it was never absent from his knowl- 
 edge that the seat in Parliament of Her Majesty's Gov- 
 ernment was the Treasury Bench. The men who fol- 
 lowed him followed him with loyalty because they were 
 convinced by his mastery of argument, an effective loy- 
 alty albeit a cold one. The opposition went down be- 
 fore him in all his parliamentary battles because he had 
 soundly overthrown them, yet such an overthrow could 
 little avail to win him generous converts. 
 
 It is as yet no easy task to form a sound estimate of the 
 lasting successes won by Gladstone and his lifelong rival. 
 "We have already had occasion to point out that one of 
 Gladstone's great deeds was in the execution of a project 
 which England owes to Disraeli. The Liberal and the 
 Conservative in these days of the accepted imperial idea 
 are scarcely more than in name the Liberal and the 
 Conservative of the not remote day of these two great 
 protagonists. Yet it is not too soon to see that in the 
 underlying policy of each of the two great parties in 
 the English commonwealth there is somewhat more of 
 the basis of the Gladstonian accomplishment than may 
 be assigned to his brilliant rival. 
 
 Gladstone's was in essence a life of industry, he did 
 those things which to his formal mind seemed the proper 
 things for the Englishman of position to do. It was 
 not enough that he devoted his life to the service of the 
 state, that was to him a duty whether in ofBce or on the 
 opposition bench. He did his duty with the same pre- 
 
 91
 
 i8o9 William Evvart Gladstone 1898 
 
 cision in his more private life as a country gentleman. 
 "When we see him reading the lessons in his parish church 
 at Hawarden not even the meanest mind can suspect the 
 publicity trick of the petty politician, it was proper to 
 his position and he did it simply. 
 
 In the same simple force of position-necessity he en- 
 tered into the literary life of his age, a duty which he 
 owed to the university which had nourished him and to 
 the culture of the society of which he formed a part. In 
 Addison's time one sees the university man on his grand 
 tour making his collection of medals, in that time that 
 was one's debt to culture. In this later time medals 
 had passed from favor, Gladstone found his era devoted 
 to literature. Hence it was his simple duty simply seen 
 and recognized to foster literature. Who can number 
 the books which came upon the world with Gladstone's 
 approval? What value after all did that approval 
 have*? Yet it was typical of the man in his sense of his 
 duty to his own world. He did his part toward litera- 
 ture with his own pen. Look at his "Juventus Mundi," 
 a learned essay, in some respects a scholarly work. It 
 was in part his discharge of his debt to the culture which 
 had been given him. 
 
 Beyond any doubt he was a great man, even a great 
 Englishman, yet his Queen at times could scarcely tol- 
 erate him. Any one who can tell whether the difficulty 
 lay in the man, the woman, or the system of constitu- 
 tional government will be far on his way toward the 
 historic estimate of Gladstone. 
 92
 
 FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY 
 
 The Marvellous Year
 
 Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy 
 
 That sweetness above all should be the character of 
 the music which Mendelssohn added to the world's sense 
 of enjoyment may be found a natural outgrowth from his 
 parentage. On the father's side he was descended from 
 that race which in centuries of trial has chosen with pas- 
 sion the culture of the higher intelligence, which has con- 
 tributed to art in its various forms so disproportionate a 
 list of great names. For his children Abraham Men- 
 delssohn, first in Hamburg, then in Berlin a banker of 
 wealth and position, chose the faith not of his fathers. 
 Such a course could do no other than produce in the 
 young Felix a sense of peace, a feeling of the emptiness 
 as well as the inconvenience of the more violent emo- 
 tions. Perhaps it led to inadequacy. Mendelssohn 
 came to recognize that for himself when he brought him- 
 self to sober consideration of the propriety of cancelling 
 the "O Rest in the Lord" because it seemed to him, as 
 to others it has seemed, too sweet. Yet what could one 
 expect from such conditions'? Professing one faith he 
 must respect the older; he could not feel other than a 
 reconciler, and he who has the task of reconciliation must 
 avoid the heights. 
 
 The path of his art was made smooth for him. He 
 lived in an atmosphere of wealth and refinement, he not 
 
 95
 
 i8o9 Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy 1847 
 
 only responded to the opportunities which were pre- 
 sented to him without difficulties, but he improved them 
 to the full and early. He was but seventeen when he 
 composed that wonderful Opus 20, the octet for strings, 
 and the still richer orchestral overture to "A Midsum- 
 mer Night's Dream." He may in later life have 
 equalled the latter of these great efforts, he certainly 
 never surpassed it in beauty of treatment and originality 
 of conception. 
 
 Upon England Mendelssohn most greatly impressed 
 his art, and in England the impression has remained most 
 permanent and less open to cavil. It was in 1829, in his 
 twentieth year, that he made his first visit across the 
 Channel, the first of ten visits of a steady progress in the 
 triumph of his art. At that time England was at the 
 feet of Handel and composition and execution were 
 rigidly held to the methods of that earlier master. The 
 time was ripe for the coming of the young genius, and 
 his creative activity was equally ripe to supply the type 
 of music which should overthrow the Handel obsession. 
 To almost every field of musical activity he was able to 
 contribute, to the violinist, to the choralist, to the organ- 
 ist, to the pianist, to the orchestra he showed himself able 
 to present a wealth of compositions, grateful in the per- 
 formance, sweet to the ear and easy to follow with com- 
 prehension. 
 
 His music written for the piano has had a popularity 
 almost without parallel, and its educational value has 
 96
 
 i8o9 Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy 1847 
 
 been almost inestimable in the effect upon the fingers 
 of two generations of young pianists and upon their 
 comprehension of musical values. It falls far short of 
 the similar work of the greater masters, but it is always 
 neat, faultlessly so, brilliant and melodious. To many 
 a performer the "Lieder ohne Worte" must remain the 
 summit of dexterity in execution, and to such it is a satis- 
 faction that the product is so instinct with sweetness and 
 charm. Of his concertos that for the violin has retained 
 a deserved popularity, it has marked a development 
 stage in the progress of almost every artist upon that 
 instrument. 
 
 His symphonies remain to the music of the present as 
 an agreeable, if not essentially strong, relief from the 
 puzzles which under that designation now tax the ear and 
 stagger the comprehension. The "Italian Symphony" 
 is clear air and light in a musical setting; and the "Scotch 
 Symphony" with its sweet melody and tempered agita- 
 tion is likely to possess for years to come the interest 
 which it so long has held. 
 
 In the more popular field of song writing Mendelssohn 
 is far greater for what he was not than for what he was. 
 He ranks nowhere near the heights occupied by Schubert, 
 Schumann and Brahms in this line of composition. But 
 he is truly great in that he showed the way out from 
 the dulness of drawing room music as he found it. Yet 
 this is by no means to be taken as implying that there 
 are not things of charm in the 79 compositions which he 
 
 97
 
 i8o9 Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy 1847 
 
 made in this class; one may not lightly dismiss "On 
 Wings of Song," the "Garland" and "The First Violet." 
 
 The England to which Mendelssohn came found its 
 highest expression of musical art in the oratorio. It is 
 small wonder that he reached his highest pinnacle of 
 appreciation with the first performance of "Elijah" at 
 the Birmingham festival in 1846. Sixty years later, two 
 generations of life in which the oratorio has somewhat 
 lost its former place, "Elijah" yet avails to attract its 
 crowds and to win from them just as much approval as 
 it drew from their grandparents. It is an acknowledg- 
 ment of the charm which its composer put into the music, 
 a tribute to the skill with which he wiped out from their 
 minds the feeling that there might be heights and depths 
 in oratorio method which this equally avoided. The 
 form as he presents it is lucid, the technic is exquisite and 
 wholly safe, the climaxes are masses of sweet tone that 
 satisfy the sense of the beautiful. It may well be that 
 he reveals in his oratorios little of the subtlety, the sug- 
 gestion, the profound expression of other masters of 
 that form, but it cannot be denied that he amply satis- 
 fied his own public and that his continued popularity to 
 the present day is by no means a satisfaction of historical 
 curiosity. 
 
 He brought pleasure to a great audience, and that is 
 no light degree of credit. He may not have advanced 
 the art of music, but he certainly presented its beauties 
 with sweet skill. 
 98
 
 , 
 
 EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 The Marifellous Year
 
 Edward Fitzgerald 
 
 Instinct with the nicest delicacy of taste nothing gives 
 a clearer view of Fitzgerald's attitude toward his work 
 than his consistent withdrawal of his name from title 
 pages. If the work was good when it left his hands, 
 and it was only his own critical sense which could find 
 a blemish, it was enough for him that the work was 
 indeed good, the name was nothing in comparison with 
 the work, he sought no fame as the man who did 
 the work. It was such a spirit as actuated the artisan 
 of the middle ages and made him artist because he was 
 willing to set the work above the worker. The sole ex- 
 ception to this blank title page, the only time when he 
 yielded to the urgent importunity of his friends, was 
 in his "Six Dramas of Calderon" which appeared in 1853 
 with his name as author of the translation. Other of 
 his work fell upon neglect, this met with disapproval. 
 He withdrew it from the public, returning to his sober 
 conviction that in such work the name of the author was 
 a drawback. 
 
 Yet no name better deserved its place than his, the 
 verdict came slow but it came sure, the world now knows 
 that English poetry can list no name more worthy than 
 that of Edward Fitzgerald. 
 
 101
 
 i8o9 Edward Fitzgerald 1883 
 
 His is the record of shy genius. That shall appear 
 in the earliest history of the quatrains of the Tent-Maker 
 of Naishapdr. He gave the slender volume to his friend 
 and publisher, Quaritch, in 1858. But two hundred 
 copies were printed and the failure was as absolute as 
 immediate. The whole printing, in the dialect of the 
 book trade, would not move at five shillings; the lot, 
 and still we must use that trade dialect, was put out 
 as remainders for a penny the copy, the value of the white 
 paper discounted because of the blemish of the ink upon 
 its surface. At this scant figure copies are known to 
 have come into the possession of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 
 Algernon Charles Swinburne, Sir Richard Burton. Ap- 
 preciation was instant. Each formed a focus from which 
 the revelation of this chance discovered beauty was set 
 in radiation. Rossetti in particular heralded to the 
 world of taste the finding of this gem which was stamped 
 with the art of the truest poetry yet which bore no name. 
 From that beginning the name of Fitzgerald and the 
 name of Omar have been linked indissolubly. The 
 quatrains passed through four editions before Fitzgerald 
 rested content with its final shape, the second in 1868, 
 the third in 1872, the fourth in 1879, ^^is differing but 
 in a few words from the third. Since then it has been 
 reprinted in hundreds of forms, it has been embellished 
 with critical apparatus, it has been adorned with all the 
 resources of art. To the world at large it remains the 
 source of Fitzgerald's fame. It is only the rarely ap- 
 102
 
 i8o9 Edward Fitzgerald 1883 
 
 preciative soul that cherishes his other work, the Calderon 
 plays with yet others from the same source, the "Euphra- 
 nor," the "SalamSn and Absal of Jami" another draught 
 from the Persian jug, and the "Agamemnon." 
 
 Fitzgerald was the finest product of English culture, 
 of Cambridge culture in that university to which he re- 
 turned again and again. Yet he was Irish, doubly Irish, 
 and on each side of the house of Irish distinction. It is 
 in no sense cheap humor that we must ascribe to one 
 well known Irish trait, for the bull of that country is a 
 classic, the possession by English literature of the Per- 
 sian poet. In the unwise scholarship of his university 
 days Persia and Ireland were brought together in a 
 strange family for no better reason than that Erin and 
 Iran suggested each the other. Accepting this opinion 
 without question, for it passed current then in the in- 
 fancy of ethnology, nothing could come with a warmer 
 appeal to the Irish student than to put into English the 
 poetry of his sister race. 
 
 His marriage to the daughter of Bernard Barton, the 
 Quaker poet, brings him into the sphere of those for whom 
 the gentle and tortured Elia was the centre. The mar- 
 riage was a short one, not at all happy, coming soon to a 
 separation in friendly agreement which displayed the im- 
 pulsive generosity of the man. Thereafter his life is to 
 be sought in his friendships, and the good taste of such 
 as he would seek in friendship has left the record almost 
 empty of detail. 
 
 103
 
 i8o9 Edward Fitzgerald 1883 
 
 We have seen the discovery of the Rubaiyat by Burton, 
 by Swinburne, by Rossetti. Of such sort were the 
 friends of Fitzgerald's heart, rare minds, sweet souls. 
 Rossetti undertook to spread among the worthy, among 
 those whom his dainty instinct knew to be worthy, the 
 knowledge of this new enrichment of art even when the 
 author was as yet unknown. For the author he did as 
 much as for the work and with equal care in selection. 
 Fitzgerald entered into the best life of English thought, 
 never found in the crowd of the commonplace, for he 
 made no appeal to the smug and the respectable. It 
 is in the letters of his friends that we find the broadest 
 imprint of his scholarly life. From friend to friend let- 
 ters passed carrying the news of some influence which 
 Fitzgerald had exerted upon the writer, some suggestion 
 of work to be done and gratefully received, some help- 
 ful criticism of work not yet ready to present to the 
 public. If we had a greater volume of the letters of 
 his time we should have more Fitzgerald beyond a doubt, 
 for benevolence was an instinct of his mind. To him 
 it was duty and pleasure to draw out the struggling soul, 
 to make cowards brave, to honor the call of conscience 
 each for his own ability to hear its voice, to each of his 
 acquaintance to instill the blessing of quick sympathy 
 with the joys and griefs of even the least of those with 
 whom their lot was thrown. From the best of his friends, 
 even from those whom he lifted for a moment out of 
 mere acquaintance, we know that he was not only a 
 genius, his soul was a place of comfort. 
 104
 
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