LIFE
OP
WILLIAM HIOKLING PRESCOTT
BY
GEORGE TICKNOR.
1**
BOSTON:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS.
1864.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
GEORGE TICKNOE,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY,
CAMBRIDGE.
ps
TO
WILLIAM HOWARD GARDINER
AND
WILLIAM AMORY.
WE are more than once mentioned together in the last testamentary dis-
positions of our friend, as persons for whom he felt a true regard, and to
whose affection and fidelity he, in some respects, intrusted the welfare of
those who were dearest to him in life. Permit me, then, to associate your
names with mine in this tribute to his memory.
GEORGE TICKNOR
PREFATORY NOTICE.
THE following Memoir has been written in part pay-
ment of a debt which has been accumulating for
above half a century, But I think it right to add, that
my friend counted upon me, in case I should survive him,
to prepare such a slight sketch of' his literary life as he
supposed might be expected, that, since his death, his
family, and I believe the public, have desired a biograph-
ical account of him ampler than his own modesty had
deemed appropriate, and that the Massachusetts Histor-
ical Society, who early did me the honor of directing me
to prepare a notice of their lamented associate such as it
is customary to insert in their official proceedings, have
been content to accept the present Memoir as a substi-
tute. It is, therefore, on all accounts, offered to the
public as a tribute to his memory, the preparation of
which I should not have felt myself at liberty to refuse
even if I had been less willing to undertake it.
But if, after all, this Memoir should fail to set the
author of the "Ferdinand and Isabella" before those
who had not the happiness to know him personally, as
a man whose life for more than forty years was one
of almost constant struggle, of an almost constant sac-
rifice of impulse to duty, of the present to the future,
it will have failed to teach its true lesson, or to present
my friend to others as he stood before the very few who
knew him as he was.
PARK STREET, BOSTON, November, 1863.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE. EARLY TRAINING. REMOVAL TO BOSTON
DR. GARDINER'S SCHOOL. LIFE AT HOME. LOVE OF BOOKS.
DIFFICULTY OF OBTAINING THEM. BOSTON ATHEN^UM. WIL-
LIAM S. SHAW. FAVORITE BOOKS. STUDIES. EARLY FRIEND-
SHIP. AMUSEMENTS. ENTERS COLLEGE 1
CHAPTER H.
COLLEGE LIFE. GOOD RESOLUTIONS. INJURY TO HIS SIGHT.
IMMEDIATE EFFECTS. STATE OF HIS EYE. RELATIONS WITH THE
PERSON WHO INFLICTED THE INJURY. STUDIES SUBSEQUENT TO
THE INJURY. MATHEMATICS. LATIN AND GREEK. PHI BETA
KAPPA SOCIETY. GRADUATED. STUDIES. SEVERE INFLAMMA-
TION OF THE EYE. His CHARACTER UNDER TRIAL. ANXIETY
ABOUT HIS HEALTH. Is TO VISIT EUROPE 16
CHAPTER LTI.
VISIT TO ST. MICHAEL'S. His LIFE THERE. SUFFERING IN HIS
EYE. His LETTERS TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER; TO HIS SISTER;
AND TO W. H. GARDINER 31
CHAPTER IV.
LEAVES ST. MICHAEL'S. ARRIVES IN LONDON. PRIVATIONS THERE.
PLEASURES. GOES TO PARIS. GOES TO ITALY. RETURNS TO
PARIS. ILLNESS THERE. GOES AGAIN TO LONDON. TRAVELS
LITTLE IN ENGLAND. DETERMINES TO RETURN HOME. LETTER
TO W. H. GARDINER . 40
viii CONTENTS.
CHAPTEE V.
RETURN FROM ENGLAND. RHEUMATISM. FIRST LITERARY ADVEN-
TURE. DECIDES NOT TO BE A LAWYER. FALLS IN LOVE. MAR-
RIES. CONTINUES TO LIVE WITH HIS FATHER. SWORDS OF HIS
GRANDFATHER AND OF THE GRANDFATHER OF HIS WIFE. His
PERSONAL APPEARANCE. CLUB OF FRIENDS. THE " CLUB-ROOM."
DETERMINES TO BECOME A MAN OF LETTERS. OBSTACLES IN
HIS WAY. EFFORTS TO OVERCOME THEM. ENGLISH STUDIES.
FRENCH. ITALIAN. OPINION OF PETRARCH AND OF DANTE.
FURTHER STUDIES PROPOSED. DESPAIRS OF LEARNING GERMAN 47
CHAPTER VI.
HE STUDIES SPANISH INSTEAD OF GERMAN. FIRST ATTEMPTS NOT
EARNEST. MABLY'S " H!TUDE DE L'HISTOIRE." THINKS OF WRIT-
ING HISTORY. DIFFERENT SUBJECTS SUGGESTED. FERDINAND
AND ISABELLA. DOUBTS LONG. WRITES TO MR. A. H. EVERETT.
DELAY FROM SUFFERING IN THE EYE. ORDERS BOOKS FROM
SPAIN. PLAN OF STUDY. HESITATES FROM THE CONDITION OF
HIS SIGHT. DETERMINES TO GO ON. His READER, MR. ENGLISH.
PROCESS OF WORK. ESTIMATES AND PLANS .... 67
CHAPTER VII.
DEATH OF HIS DAUGHTER. INQUIRIES INTO THE TRUTH OF THE
CHRISTIAN RELIGION. RESULTS. EXAMINES THE HISTORY OF
THE SPANISH ARABS. REVIEWS IRVING'S " GRANADA." STUDIES
FOR HIS WORK ON FERDINAND AND ISABELLA. BEGINS TO WRITE
IT. REGARD FOR MABLY AND CLEMENCIN. PROGRESS OF HIS
WORK. AT PEPPERELL. AT NAHANT. FINISHES THE " HIS-
TORY OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA" . . . . .85
CHAPTER VIII.
DOUBTS ABOUT PUBLISHING THE " HISTORY OF FERDINAND AND ISA-
BELLA." FOUR COPIES PRINTED AS IT WAS WRITTEN. OPINIONS
OF FRIENDS. THE AUTHOR'S OWN OPINION OF HIS WORK. PUB-
LISHES IT. His LETTERS ABOUT IT. ITS SUCCESS. ITS PUBLI-
CATION IN LONDON. REVIEWS OF IT IN THE UNITED STATES AND
IN EUROPE ... - 96
CHAPTER IX.
THE AUTHOR'S FEELINGS ON THE SUCCESS OF " FERDINAND AND ISA-
BELLA." ILLNESS OF HIS MOTHER, AND HER RECOVERY. OPIN-
IONS IN EUROPE CONCERNING HIS HISTORY ... . 108
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER X.
MR. PEESCOTT'S CHARACTER AT THIS PERIOD. EFFECT OF HIS IN-
FIRMITY OF SIGHT IN FORMING IT. NOCTOGRAPH. DISTRIBU-
TION OF HIS DAY. CONTRIVANCES FOR REGULATING THE LIGHT
IN HIS ROOM. PREMATURE DECAY OF SIGHT. EXACT SYSTEM
OF EXERCISE AND LIFE GENERALLY. FIRM WILL IN CARRYING
IT OUT 115
CHAPTER XL
MR. PRESCOTT'S SOCIAL CHARACTER. REMARKS ON IT BY MR. GAB-
DINER AND MR. PARSONS 120
CHAPTER XH.
MR. PRESCOTT'S INDUSTRY AND GENERAL CHARACTER BASED ON
PRINCIPLE AND ON SELF-SACRIFICE. TEMPTATIONS. EXPEDI-
ENTS TO OVERCOME THEM. EXPERIMENTS. NOTES OF WHAT IS
READ TO HIM. COMPOSES WITHOUT WRITING. SEVERE DISCI-
PLINE OF HIS MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. DISLIKES TO
HAVE HIS HABITS INTERFERED WITH. NEVER SHOWS CONSTRAINT.
FREEDOM OF MANNER IN HIS FAMILY AND IN SOCIETY. His
INFLUENCE ON OTHERS. His CHARITY TO THE POOR. INSTANCE
OF IT ... 188
CHAPTER
PERIOD IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PUBLICATION OF " FERDINAND
AND ISABELLA." THINKS OF WRITING A LIFE OF MOLIERE; BUT
PREFERS SPANISH SUBJECTS. REVIEWS. INQUIRES AGAIN INTO
THE TRUTH OF CHRISTIANITY. " CONQUEST OF MEXICO." BOOKS
AND MANUSCRIPTS OBTAINED FOR IT. HUMBOLDT. INDOLENCE.
CORRESPONDENCE WITH WASHINGTON IRVING .... 161
CHAPTER XIV.
His CORRESPONDENCE BECOMES IMPORTANT. LETTER TO IRVING.
LETTERS FROM SISMONDI, THIERRY, TYTLER, AND ROGERS. LET-
TER TO GAYANGOS. MEMORANDA. LETTERS TO GAYANGOS, AND
OTHERS. LETTERS FROM FORD AND TYTLER .... 164
x CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XV.
MATERIALS FOR THE " CONQUEST OF MEXICO." IMPERFECT INDUS-
TRY. IMPROVED STATE OF THE EYE. BEGINS TO WRITE.
DIFFICULTIES. THOROUGHNESS. INTERRUPTIONS. LORD MOR-
PETH. VISITS TO NEW YORK AND LEBANON SPRINGS. " CON-
QUEST OF MEXICO" FINISHED. SALE OF RlGHT TO PUBLISH.
ILLNESS OF HIS FATHER. PARTIAL RECOVERY. " CONQUEST OF
MEXICO " PUBLISHED. ITS SUCCESS. REVIEWS OF IT. LET-
TERS TO MR. LYELL AND DON PASCUAL DE GAYANGOS. FROM
MR. GALLATIN. To LORD MORPETH AND TO GAYANGOS. FROM
MR. HALLAM AND MR. EVERETT. MEMORANDA. LETTER FROM
LORD MORPETH. LETTERS TO DEAN MILMAN AND MR. J. C. HAM-
ILTON. LETTERS FROM MR. TYTLER AND DEAN MILMAN . . 181
CHAPTER XVI.
MB. PRESCOTT'S STYLE. DETERMINES TO HAVE ONE OF HIS OWN.
HOW HE OBTAINED IT. DISCUSSIONS IN REVIEWS ABOUT IT. MR.
FORD. WRITES MORE AND MORE FREELY. NATURALNESS. His
STYLE MADE ATTRACTIVE BY CAUSES CONNECTED WITH HIS IN-
FIRMITY OF SIGHT. ITS FINAL CHARACTER 203
CHAPTER XVII.
SITS FOR HIS PORTRAIT AND BUST. VISIT TO NEW YORK. MISCEL-
LANEOUS READING. MATERIALS FOR THE " CONQUEST OF PERU."
BEGINS TO WRITE. DEATH OF HIS FATHER. ITS EFFECT ON
HIM. RESUMES WORK. LETTER FROM HUMBOLDT. ELECTION
INTO THE FRENCH INSTITUTE, AND INTO THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF
BERLIN 216
CHAPTER XVIJJ.
PUBLICATION OF A VOLUME OF MISCELLANIES. ITALIAN LITERA-
TURE. CONTROVERSY WITH DAPONTE. CHARLES BROCKDEN
BROWN. BLIND ASYLUM. MOLIERE. CERVANTES. SCOTT.
IRVING. BANCROFT. MADAME CALDERON. HISTORY OF SPAN-
ISH LITERATURE. OPINIONS OF REVIEW- WRITING . . . 230
CHAPTER XIX.
His DOMESTIC RELATIONS. "CONQUEST OF PERU." PEPPERELL.
LETTERS. REMOVAL IN BOSTON. DIFFICULTIES. FIFTIETH
BIRTHDAY. PUBLISHES THE " CONQUEST OF PERU." DOUBTS.
SUCCESS. MEMORANDA. " EDINBURGH REVIEW." LIFE AT
PEPPERELL. LETTER FROM Miss EDGEWORTH .... 240
CONTENTS. . xi
CHAPTER XX.
MB. MOTLEY. HESITATION ABOUT BEGINNING THE HISTOKT OF
PHILIP THE SECOND. STATE OF HIS SIGHT BAD. PREPARATIONS.
DOUBTS ABOUT TAKING THE WHOLE SUBJECT. MEMOIR OF
PICKERING. EARLY INTIMATIONS OF A LIFE OF PHILIP THE
SECOND. COLLECTION OF MATERIALS FOR IT. DIFFICULTY OF
GETTING THEM. GREATLY ASSISTED BY DON PASCUAL DE GA-
YANGOS. MATERIALS AT LAST AMPLE. PRINTS FOR HIS OWN
USE A PORTION OF RANKE'S SPANISH EMPIRE .... 259
CHAPTER XXI.
GENERAL SCOTT'S CONQUEST OF MEXICO. SUMMER AT PEPPERELL
DIFFICULTIES AND DOUBTS ABOUT "PHILIP THE SECOND."
MEMOIRS OR REGULAR HISTORY. ANXIETY ABOUT HIS HEARING.
JOURNEY FOR HEALTH. NOT SUFFICIENT. PROJECT FOR VIS-
ITING ENGLAND. RESOLVES TO GO. VOYAGE AND ARRIVAL.
LONDON 272
CHAPTER XXLI.
LEAVES LONDON. HASTY VISIT TO PARIS, BRUSSELS, AND ANTWERP.
LETTERS. RETURN TO LONDON. VISITS IN THE COUNTRY.
LETTERS. END OF HIS VISIT TO ENGLAND. ENGLISH CHARAC-
TER AND SOCIETY 300
CHAPTER XXTTT.
VOYAGE HOME. LETTERS TO FRIENDS IN ENGLAND. BEGINS TO
WORK AGAIN. PEPPERELL. "PHILIP THE SECOND." CORRE-
SPONDENCE .
CHAPTER XXIV.
POLITICAL OPINIONS. CORRESPONDENCE WITH MR. BANCROFT, MR.
EVERETT, AND MR. SUMNER. CONVERSATION ON POLITICAL SUB-
JECTS .335
CHAPTER XXV.
DEATH OF MR. PRESCOTT'S MOTHER. PROGRESS WITH " PHILIP
THE SECOND." CORRESPONDENCE 358
xii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXVI.
RHEUMATISM AT NAHANT. BOSTON HOMES SUCCESSIVELY OCCUPIED
BY MK. PKESCOTT IN TREMONT STKEET, SUMMER STREET, BEDFORD
STREET, AND BEACON STREET. PATRIARCHAL MODE OF LIFE AT
PEPPERELL. LIFE AT NAHANT AND AT LYNN .... 364
CHAPTER XXVII.
FIRST SUMMER AT LYNN. WORK ON " PHILIP THE SECOND."
MEMORANDA ABOUT IT. PRINTS THE FIRST TWO VOLUMES.
THEIR SUCCESS. ADDITION TO ROBERTSON'S " CHARLES THE
FIFTH." MEMOIR OF MR. ABBOTT LAWRENCE. GOES ON WITH
"PHILIP THE SECOND." ILLNESS. DINNER AT MR. GARDINER'S.
CORRESPONDENCE . 875
CHAPTER XXVIH.
FIRST ATTACK OF APOPLEXY. YIELDS READILY. CLEARNESS OF
MIND. COMPOSURE. INFIRMITIES. GRADUAL IMPROVEMENT.
OCCUPATIONS. PRINTS THE THIRD VOLUME OF "PHILIP THE
SECOND." SUMMER AT LYNN AND PEPPEIIELL. NOTES TO THE
" CONQUEST OF MEXICO." RETURN TO BOSTON. DESIRE FOB
ACTIVE LITERARY LABOR. AGUE. CORRESPONDENCE . . 398
CHAPTER XXTX.
ANXIETY TO RETURN TO SERIOUS WORK. PLEASANT FORENOON.
SUDDEN ATTACK OF APOPLEXY. DEATH. His WISHES RE-
SPECTING HIS REMAINS. FUNERAL. EXPRESSIONS OF SORROW
ON BOTH SIDES OF THE ATLANTIC . 412
APPENDIX.
A. THE PRESCOTT FAMILY .419
B. THE CROSSED SWORDS 430
C. EXTRACTS FROM A LETTER ADDRESSED BY MR. EDMUND B.
OTIS, FORMERLY MR. PRESCOTT'S SECRETARY, TO MR.
TlCKNOR 433
D. LITERARY HONORS 436
E. TRANSLATIONS OF MR. PRESCOTT'S HISTORIES .... 438
F. CONVERSATION OF MR. PRESCOTT SHORTLY BEFORE HIS DEATH 441
G. ON HIS DEATH 444
INDEX . 447
THE LIFE
OP
WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
CHAPTER I.
1796-1811.
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE. EARLY TRAINING. REMOVAL TO BOSTON
DR. GARDINER'S SCHOOL. LIFE AT HOME. LOVE OF BOOKS. DIF-
FICULTY OF OBTAINING THEM. BOSTON ATHENAEUM. WlLLIAM S.
SHAW. FAVORITE BOOKS. STUDIES. EARLY FRIENDSHIP. AMUSE-
MENTS. ENTERS COLLEGE.
WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT was born in
Salem, New England, on the fourth day of May,
seventeen hundred and ninety-six. 1
His father, then thirty-four years old, a person of remark-
able manly beauty, and great dignity and gentleness of char-
acter, was already in the flush of his early success at the
bar, where he subsequently rose to much eminence and honor.
His mother, five years younger, was a woman of great energy,
who seemed to have been born to do good, and who had from
her youth those unfailing spirits which belong to the original
temperament of the very few who have the happiness to pos-
sess them, and which, in her case, were controlled by a good
sense and by religious convictions, that made her presence like
a benediction in the scenes of sorrow and suffering, which,
during her long life, it was her chosen vocation to frequent.
They had been married between two and three years when
William was born to them, inheriting not a few of the promi-
nent characteristics of each. He was their second child ; the
first, also a son, having died in very early infancy.
1 For an account of the Prescott Family, see Appendix (A).
1 A
2 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
The family of Mr. and Mrs. Prescott was always a happy
one, respected and loved by those who came within the reach
of its influence. Their pleasant, hospitable house in Salem is
no longer standing; but the spot it occupied is well remem-
bered, and is pointed out to strangers with pride, as the one
where the future historian -was born. Its site is now that of
" Plummer Hall " ; a building erected for literary and scien-
tific purposes, from funds bequeathed by he lady whose name
it bears, and who was long a friend of the Prescott family. 2
William's earliest education was naturally in the hands of
his affectionate and active mother, his great obligations to
whom he always loved to acknowledge, and from whom, with
slight exceptions, it was his happiness never to be separated so
long as they both lived. He felt, to the last, that her influence
upon him had been one of the chief blessings of his life. On
the afternoon of her death he spoke of it to me, as a guiding
impulse for which he could not be too grateful.
But, like the children of most of the persons who constituted
the society in Salem to which his family belonged, he was sent
to a school for the very young, kept by Miss Mehitable Higgin-
son, a true gentlewoman, descended from the venerable Francis
Higginson, who emigrated to Salem in 1629, when there were
only seven houses on the spot now covered by the whole city,
and who, from his scholarship, eloquence, and piety, has some-
times been called the founder of the churches of New England.
Miss Higginson understood, with an instinct for which experi-
ence affords no sufficient substitute, what belongs to childhood,
and how best to direct and mould its opening faculties. It was
her wont to call herself, not the school mistress, but the school
mother, of her little flock; and a system of discipline which
might be summed up in such a phrase could hardly fail of
being effectual for good. Certainly it succeeded to a reinark-
2 Only a year before his death, the historian was invited to be present at
the dedication of "Plummer Hall." He was not able to attend; but, in
reply to the invitation, he said : " I need not assure you that I take a sincere
interest in the ceremonies of the day, and I have a particular interest in the
spot which is to be covered by the new edifice, from its having been that on
which I "first saw the light. It is a pleasant thought to me, that, through
the enlightened liberality of my deceased friend, Miss Plummer, it is now
to be consecrated to so noble a purpose."
SCHOOL DAYS. 3
able degree with her many pupils, during the half-century in
which she devoted herself with truth and love to her calling.
Of her more favored children, William was one.
From the tender and faithful hands of Miss Higginson, he
passed to the school of Mr. Jacob Newman Knapp, long known
in Salem as " Master Knapp," a person who, as the best
teacher to be obtained, had been procured by Mr. Prescott and
a few of his more intimate friends, all of whom were anxious,
as he was, to spare neither pains nor expense in the education
of their children. Under Mr. Knapp's care William was placed
at New- Year, 1803, when he was less than seven years old ;
and he continued there until the midsummer of 1808, when his
father removed to Boston.
The recollections of him during these four or five years are
distinct in the minds of his teacher, who still survives (1862)
at a venerable old age, and of a few schoolmates, now no longer
young. He was a bright, merry boy, with an inquisitive mind,
quick perceptions, and a ready, retentive memory. His lessons
were generally well learned ; but he loved play better than
books, and was too busy with other thoughts than those that
belonged to the school-room to become one of Masier Knapp's
best pupils. He was, though large for his years, not very vig-
orous in his person. He never fancied rude or athletic sports,
but amused himself with such boys of his own age as preferred
games requiring no great physical strength ; or else he made
himself happy at home with such light reading as is most at-
tractive to all children, and especially to those whose opening
tastes and tendencies are quiet, if not intellectual. In the latter
part of his life he used to say, that he recollected no period of
his childhood when he did not love books ; adding, that often,
when he was a very little boy, he was so excited by stories
appealing strongly to his imagination, that, when his mother
left the room, he used to take hold of her gown, and follow her
as she moved about the house, rather than be left alone. But
in school he did not love work, and made no remarkable pro-
gress in his studies.
Neither was he so universally liked by the boys with whom
he was associated in Salem, as he was afterwards by the boys
in other schools. He had indeed his favorites, to whom he
4 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
was much attached and who were much attached to him, and
he never faltered in his kindness to them subsequently, how-
ever humble or unfortunate their condition became ; but at
home he had been encouraged to speak his mind with a bold-
ness that was sometimes rude ; partly from parental indul-
gence, and partly as a means of detecting easily any tendencies
in his character that his conscientious father might think it
needful to restrain. The consequence was, that a similar habit
of very free speaking at school, joined to his great natural
vivacity and excessive animal spirits, made him more confident
in the expression of his opinions and feelings than was agree-
able, and prevented him from becoming a favorite with a por-
tion of his schoolmates. It laid, however, I doubt not, the
foundation for that attractive simplicity and openness which
constituted prominent traits in his character through life.
His conscience was sensitive and tender from the first, and
never ceased to be so. A sermon to children produced a strik-
ing effect upon him when he was still a child. It was a very
simple, direct one, by Dr. Channing ; and William's mother
told him to read it to her one evening when his conduct had
required some slight censure, and she thought this the best
way to administer it. He obeyed her reluctantly. But soon
his lips began to quiver, and his voice to choke. He stopped,
and with tears said, " Mother, if I am ever a bad boy again,
won't you set me to reading that sermon ? "
His temperament was very gay, like his mother's, and his
eager and sometimes turbulent spirits led him into faults of
conduct oftener, perhaps, than anything else. Like most school-
boys, he was fond of practical jokes, and ventured them, not
only in a spirit of idle mischief, but even rudely. Once he
badly frightened a servant-girl in the family, by springing un-
expectedly upon her from behind a door. But his father, busy
and anxious as he was with the interests of others, and occu-
pying himself less with the material concerns and affairs of his
household than almost any person I ever knew, had yet an eye
of unceasing vigilance for whatever related to the training of
his children, and did not suffer even a fault so slight to pass
without rebuke. After this, although William was always a
boy full of life and mischief, he gave no more trouble by such
rudeness at home.
HOME INFLUENCES. 5
No doubt, therefore, his early education, and the circum-
stances most nearly connected with it, were, on the whole,
favorable to the formation of a character suited to the position
in the world that he was likely to occupy ; a character, I
mean, that would not easily yield to the tempta^ons of pros-
perity, nor be easily broken down by adverse fortune, if such
fortune should come upon it. It was, in fact, a condition of
things that directly tended to develop those manly qualities
which in our New-England society have always most surely
contributed to progress and success.
Nor was there anything in the circle with which his family
was most connected to counteract these influences. Life in
those days was a very simple thing in Salem, compared with
what it is now. It was the period when Mr. Gray and Mr.
Peabody, the Pickmans and the Derby s, were too busy with
their widely extended commerce to think often of anything
else ; when Mr. Justice Putnam was a young lawyer struggling
up to eminence ; when Mr. Story, afterwards the distinguished
jurist and judge, was only beginning to be heard of; and when
the mathematical genius of Dr. Bowditch, and the classical
studies of Mr. Pickering, which were destined later to have so
wide an effect on our community, were hardly known beyond
the limits of their personal acquaintance.
In those active, earnest days, the modest luxury of hackney-
coaches and hired waiters had not come to be deemed needful
in Salem, even among those who were already prosperous and
rich. When, therefore, Mrs. Prescott had invited friends to
dine, a form of social intercourse which she and her husband
always liked, and which they practised more freely than most
persons then did, if the weather proved unfavorable, she
sent her own chaise to bring her lady guests to her house, and
carried them safely home in the same way when the hospitable
evening was ended. Or, if the company were larger than her
usual arrangements would permit to be well served, she bor-
rowed the servants of her friends, and lent her own in return.
But the days of such unpretending simplicity are gone by, and
a tasteful luxury has naturally and gracefully taken its place.
They were days, however, on which my friend always looked
back with satisfaction, and I doubt not, nor did he doubt, that
6 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
it was well for him that his character received something of its
early direction under their influence. He was always grateful
that his first years were passed neither in a luxurious home nor
in a luxurious state of society. 8
Mr. Present the elder removed with his family to Boston
in the summer of 1808, and established himself in a house on
Tremont Street. But although he had come to a larger town,
and one where those of his own condition indulged in some-
what more free habits of expense, the manner of life that he
preferred and followed in his new home was not different from
the one to which he had been accustomed in Salem. It was a
life of cordial, open hospitality, but without show or pretension
of any sort. And so it continued to the last.
The promising son was sent in the early autumn to the best
classical school then known in New England ; for his father,
bred at Dummer Academy by " Master Moody," who in his
time was without an equal among us as a teacher of Latin
and Greek, always valued such training more than any other.
And it was fortunate for William that he did so ; for his early
classical discipline was undoubtedly a chief element in his sub-
sequent success.
The school to which he was sent if school it could prop-
erly be called was one kept with few of the attributes of
such an institution, but in its true spirit, by the Rev. Dr. Gar-
diner, 4 Rector of Trinity Church, Boston. Dr. Gardiner was
8 For this sketch of society as it existed in Salem at the end of the last
century I am indebted to the venerable Mrs. Putnam, widow of Mr. Justice
Putnam, whose family, early connected with that of the elder Mr. Prescott
by bonds of friendship and affection, has, in the third generation, been yet
more intimately and happily united to it by the- marriage of the eldest son
of the historian with a granddaughter of the jurist.
4 Dr. Gardiner had earlier kept a regular school in Boston, with no small
success ; but, at the time referred to, he received in his own library, with
little form, about a dozen youths, some who were to be prepared for col-
lege, and some who, having been already graduated, sought, by his assistance,
to increase their knowledge of the Greek and Latin classics. It was excel-
lent, direct, personal teaching; the more effective because the nuniber of
pupils was so small. It was, too, of a sort peculiarly adapted to make an
impression on a mind and temperament like young Prescott's. Indeed, it be-
came the foundation of an attachment between him and his instructor, which
was severed only by death, and of which a touching proof was afforded dur-
ing the last, long-protracted illness of Dr. Gardiner, who, as his infirmities
increased, directed his servant to admit nobody, beyond the limits of his
DR. GARDINER'S SCHOOL. 7
a good scholar, t>red in England under Dr. Parr, who, some
years afterwards, at Hatton, spoke of him to me with much
regard and respect. But, besides his scholarship, Dr. Gardiner
was a generous, warm-hearted man, who took a sincere interest
in his pupils, and sympathized with them in their pursuits to a
degree which, however desirable, is very rare. A great deal of
his teaching was oral ; some of it, no doubt, traditional, and
brought from his English school ; all of it was excellent. For,
although recitations of careful exactness were required, and
punishments not slight inflicted for negligence and breaches of
discipline, still much knowledge was communicated by an easy
conversational commentary, the best part of which could not
readily have been found in books, while the whole of it gave
a life and interest to the lessons that could have been given by
nothing else.
It was in this school, as soon as he became a member of it,
that I first knew William, as a bright boy a little more than
twelve years old. I had then been under Dr. Gardiner's in-
struction some months, not as a regular member of any class,
but at private hours, with one or two others, to obtain a knowl-
edge of the higher Greek and Latin classics, not elsewhere to
be had among us. Very soon the young stranger was brought
by his rapid advancement to recite with us, and before long we
two were left to pursue a part of our studies quite by ourselves.
From this time, of course, I knew him well, and, becoming
acquainted in his father's family, saw him not only daily at
school, but often at home. It was a most agreeable, cheerful
house, where the manners were so frank and sincere, that the
son's position in it was easily understood. He was evidently
loved much loved of all ; his mother showing her fond-
ness without an attempt at disguise, his father not without
family connections, except Mr. Prescott. It is needless to add, that, after
this, his old pupil was almost daily at his door. Nor did he ever afterwards
forget his early kind teacher. Dr. Gardiner died in 1830, in England, where
he had gone with the hope of recovery ; and on receiving the intelligence of
his death, Mr. Prescott published, in one of our newspapers, an interesting
obituary of him. Subsequently, too, in 1848, he wrote to Dr. Sprague, in
Albany, an affectionate letter (to be found in that gentleman's " Annals of
the American Pulpit," Vol. V. p. 365, 1859) on Dr. Gardiner's character, and
in the very last year of hisjife he was occupied with fresh interest about its
publication.
8 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
anxiety concerning his son's spirits and the peculiar temptations
of his age and position. Probably he was too much indulged.
Certainly, in his fine, open nature there were great inducements
to this parental infirmity ; and a spirit of boyish mischief in
his relations with those of his own age, and a certain degree of
presumption in his manners toward those who were older, were
not wanting to justify the suspicion. That he was much trusted
to himself there was no doubt.
But he loved books of the lighter sort, and was kept by his
taste for them from many irregular indulgences. Books, how-
ever, were by no means so accessible in those days as they are
now. Few, comparatively, were published in the United States,
and, as it was the dreary period of the commercial restrictions
that preceded the war of 1812 with England, still fewer were
imported. Even good school-books were not easily obtained.
A copy of Euripides in the original could not be bought at any
bookseller's shop in New England, and was with difficulty
borrowed. A German instructor, or means for learning the
German language, were not to be had either in Boston or
Cambridge. The best publications that appeared in Great
Britain came to us slowly, and were seldom reprinted. New
books from the Continent hardly reached us at all. Men felt
poor and anxious in those dark days, and literary indulgences,
which have now become almost as necessary to us as our daily
food, were luxuries enjoyed by few.
There was, however, a respectable, but very miscellaneous
collection of books just beginning to be made by the proprie-
tors of the Boston Athenaeum ; an institution imitated chiefly
from the Athenaeum of Liverpool, and established in an unpre-
tending building not far from the house of the Prescott family
in Tremont Street. Its real founder was Mr. William S. Shaw,
who, by a sort of common consent, exercised over it a control
all but unlimited, acting for many years gratuitously as its
librarian. He was a near connection of the two Presidents
Adams, the first of whom he had served as private secretary
during his administration of the government ; and in conse-
quence of this relationship, when Mr. John Quincy Adams was
sent as Minister of the United States to Russia, he deposited
his library, consisting of eight or ten thousand volumes, in
THE BOSTON ATHEN^UM. 9
the Athenaeum, and thus materially increased its resources
during his absence abroad. The young sons of its proprietors
had then, by the rules of the institution, no real right to fre-
quent its rooms ; but Mr. Shaw, with all his passion for books,
and his anxiety to keep safely and strictly those instrusted
to him, was a kind-hearted man, who loved bright boys, and
often gave them privileges in his Athenaeum to which they
had no regular claim. William was one of those who were
most favored, and who most gladly availed themselves of the
opportunity which was thus given them. He resorted to
the Athenaeum, and to the part of it containing Mr. Adams's
library, as few boys cared to do, and spent many of his play-
hours there in a sort of idle reading, which probably did little
to nourish his mind, but which, as he afterwards loved to
acknowledge, had a decided influence in forming his literary
tendencies and tastes. 5
Of course such reading was not very select. He chiefly fan-
cied extravagant romances and books of wild adventure. How
completely he was carried away by the " Amadis de Gaula "
in Southey's translation he recorded long afterwards, when he
looked back upon his boyish admiration, not only with surprise,
but with a natural regret that all such feelings belonged to the
remote past. The age of chivalry, he said sadly, was gone by
for him. 6
But, whatever may have been his general reading at this
early period, he certainly did not, in the years immediately
preceding his college life, affect careful study, or serious^ intel-
lectual cultivation of any kind. His lessons he learned easily,
but he made a characteristic distinction between such as were
indispensable for his admission to the University, and such as
were prescribed merely to increase his classical knowledge and
accomplishments. He was always careful to learn the first
well, but equally careful to do no more, or at least not to seem
willing to do it, lest yet further claims should be made upon
him. I remember well his cheerful and happy recitations
of the"CEdipus Tyrannus"; but he was very fretful at being
required to read the more difficult "Prometheus Vinctus" of
6 Letter of W. H. Gardiner, Esq. to T. G. Gary, Esq., MS.
North American Review, January, 1850.
1*
10 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
^Eschylus, because it was not a part of the course of study
which all must pass through. Horace, too, of which we read
some parts together, interested and excited him beyond his
years, but Juvenal he disliked, and Persius he could not be
made to read at all. He was, in short, neither more nor less
than a thoroughly natural, bright boy, who loved play better
than work, but who could work well under sufficient induce-
ments and penalties.
During the whole of his school days in Boston, although
he was a general favorite among the boys, his friend and fidus
Achates was a son of his teacher, Dr. Gardiner, of just about
his own age ; and, if not naturally of a more staid and sober
character, kept by a wise parental discipline under more re-
straint. It was a happy intimacy, and one that was never
broken or disturbed. Their paths in life diverged, indeed,
somewhat later, and they necessarily saw each other less as
they became engrossed by pursuits so different ; the one as a
severe, retired student ; the other as an active, eminent lawyer,
much too busy with the affairs of others to be seen often out of
his own office and family. But their attachment always rested
on the old foundation, and the friend of his boyhood became
in time Mr. Prescott's chief confidential adviser in his worldly
affairs, and was left at last the sole executor of his considerable
estate.
In the first few years of their acquaintance they were con-
stantly together. Dr. Gardiner gave instruction only in Greek,
Latin, and English. The two boys, therefore, took private les-
sons, as they were called, of other teachers in arithmetic and
in writing ; but made small progress in either. They played,
too, with French, Italian, and Spanish, but accomplished little ;
for they cared nothing about these studies, which they account-
ed superfluous, and which they pursued only to please their
friends. They managed, however, always to have the same
instructors, and so were hardly separated at all. They learnt,
indeed, the slight and easy lessons set them, but were careful
to do no more, and so made no real progress.
Much of their free time they gave to amusements not alto-
gether idle, but certainly not tending very directly to intel-
lectual culture. Some of them were such as might have been
AMUSEMENTS. 11
readily expected from their age. Thus, after frequenting a cir-
cus, they imitated what they had seen, until their performances
were brought to a disastrous conclusion by cruelly scorching a
favorite family cat that was compelled to play a part in them.
At another time they fired pistols till they disturbed the quiet
neighborhood, and came near killing a horse in the Prescott
stable. This was all natural enough, because it was boyish,
though it was a little more adventurous, perhaps, than boys'
sports commonly are. Of the same sort, too, was a good deal
of mischief in which they indulged themselves, with little harm
to anybody, in the streets as they went to their school exercises,
especially in the evening, and then came home again, looking
. all the graver for their frolics. But two of their amusements
were characteristic and peculiar, and were, perhaps, not with-
out influence on the lives of each of them, and especially on
the life of the historian.
They devised games of battles of all sorts, such as they had
found in their school-books, among the Greeks and Romans,
or such as filled the newspapers of the time during the contest
between the English and the French in the Spanish Peninsula ;
carrying them out by an apparatus more than commonly in-
genious for boys of their age. At first, it was merely bits of
paper, arranged so as to indicate the different arms and com-
manders of the different squadrons ; which were then thrown
into heaps, and cut up at random with shears as ruthless as
those of the Fates ; quite severing many of the imaginary
combatants so as to leave no hope of life, and curtailing others
of their fair proportions in a way to indicate wounds more or
less dangerous. But this did not last long. Soon they came
to more personal and soldier-like encounters ; dressing them-
selves up in portions of old armor which they found among
the curiosities of the Athenaeum, and which, I fear, they had
little right to use as they did, albeit their value for any purpose
was small indeed. What was peculiar about these amusements
was, that there .was always an idea of a contest in them,
generally of a battle, whether in the plains of Latium with
JEneas, or on Bunker Hill under William's grandfather, or
in the fanciful combats of knights-errant in the " Amadis de
Gaula " ; and Prescott apparently cared more about them 01
this account than on any other.
12 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
The other especial amusement of the two friends was that
of alternately telling stories invented as they went along. It
was oftener their street-talk than anything else ; and, if the
thread of the fiction in hand were broken off, by arriving at
school or in any other way, they resumed it as soon as the
interruption ceased, and so continued until the whole was fin-
ished ; each improvising a complete series of adventures for
the entertainment of the other and of nobody else. Prescott's
inventions were generally of the wildest ; for his imagination
was lively, and his head was full of the romances that pre-
vailed in our circulating libraries before Scott's time. But
they both enjoyed this exercise of their faculties heartily, and
each thought the o other's stories admirable. The historian
always remembered these favorite amusements of his boyish
days with satisfaction ; and, only two or three years before
his death, when he had one of his grandchildren on his knee,
and was gratifying the boy's demand for a fairy tale, he cried
out, as Mr. Gardiner entered the room : " Ah, there 's the
man that could tell you stories. You know, William," he
continued, addressing his friend, " I never had any inventive
faculty in my life ; all I have done in the way of story -telling,
in my later years, has been by diligent hard work." Such,
near the close of his life, was his modest estimate of his own
brilliant powers and performances.
How much these amusements may have influenced the char-
acter of the narrator of the Conquest of Mexico, it is not pos-
sible to determine. Probably not much. But one thing is
certain. They were not amusements common with boys of
his age ; and in his subsequent career his power of describing
battles, and his power of relating a succession of adventures,
are among his most remarkable attributes. 7
But his boyish days were now over. In August, 1811, he
was admitted to the Sophomore Class in Harvard College,
having passed his examination with credit. The next day he
wrote to his father, then attending the Supreme Court at Port-
1 For the facts in this account of the gchool-boy days of Mr. Prescott, I
am partly indebted, as I am for much else in this memoir, especially what
relates to his college career, to Mr. William Howard Gardiner, the early
friend referred to in the text.
ENTERS COLLEGE. 13
land, in Maine, the following letter, characteristic of the easy
relations which subsisted between them, but which, easy as
they were, did not prevent the son, through his whole life, from
looking on his admirable father with a sincere veneration.
TO THE HON. WILLIAM PRESCOTT.
BOSTON, Aug. 23, [1811].
DEAR FATHER,
I now write you a few lines to inform you of my fate. Yesterday at
eight o'clock I was ordered to the President's, and there, together with a
Carolinian, Middleton, 8 was examined for Sophomore. When we were
first ushered into their presence, they looked like so many judges of the
Inquisition. We were ordered down into the parlor, almost frightened
out of our wits, to be examined by each separately ; but we soon found
them quite a pleasant sort of chaps. The Presidentoent us down a good
dish of pears, and treated us very much like gentlemen. 9 It was not
ended in the morning ; but we returned in the afternoon, when Professor
Ware examined us in Grotius de Veritate. We found him very good-
natured, for I happened to ask him a question in theology, which made
him laugh so that he was obliged to cover his face with his hands. At
half past three our fate was decided, and we were declared < Sophomores
of Harvard University/
As you would like to know how I appeared, I will give you the con-
versation, verbatim, with Mr. Frisbie, when I went to see him after the
examination. I asked him, " Did I appear well in my examination 1 "
Answer. "Yes." Question. " Did I appear very well, Sir ?" Answer.
" Why are you so particular, young man ? Yes, you did yourself a great
deal of credit." u
8 This was, of course, his first knowledge of Mr. Arthur Middleton, with
whom, as a classmate, he -was afterwards much connected, and who, when
he was Secretary of Legation and Charge d' Affaires of the United States at
Madrid, rendered his early friend important literary services, as we shall
see when vre reach that period of Mr. Prescott's life. Mr. Middleton died
in 1853.
9 President Kirkland, who had only a few months earlier become the head
of the University, will always be remembered by those who knew him, not
only for the richness and originality of his mind and for his great perspica-
city, but for the kindliness of his nature. The days, however, in which a
dish of pears followed an examination, were, I think, very few even in his
time, connected with no traditions of the past, and not suited to the state
of discipline since. It was, I suspect, only a compliment to William's fam-
ily, who had been parishioners of Dr. Kirkland, when he was a clergyman
in Boston.
w Dr. Henry Ware was Hollis Professor of Divinity.
n Before this examination, William had, for a short time, been under the
private and especial instruction of Mr. Frisbie, who was then a Tutor in
Harvard College, and subsequently one of its favorite Professors, too early
taken away by death, in 1822.
14 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
I feel to-day twenty pounds lighter than I did yesterday. I shall dine
at Mr. Gardiner's. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner both say that on me depends
William's going to college or not. If I behave well, he will go ; if not,
that he certainly shall not go. Mr. W. P. Mason has asked me to dine
with him on Commencement Day, as he gives a dinner. I believe I
shall go. As I had but little time, I thought it best to tell a long story,
and write it badly, rather than a short one written well. I have been to
see Mr. H this morning ; no news. Remember me to your fellow-
travellers, C., & M., &c., &c. Love to mother, whose affectionate son I
remain, *
WM. HICKLING PRESCOTT.
CHAPTER II.
1811-1815.
V
COLLEGE LIFE. GOOD KESOLUTIONS. INJURY TO HIS SIGHT. IMME-
DIATE EFFECTS. 'STATE OF HIS EYE. KELATIONS WITH THE PER-
SON WHO INFLICTED THE INJURY. STUDIES SUBSEQUENT TO THE
INJURY. MATHEMATICS. LATIN AND GREEK. PHI BETA KAPPA
SOCIETY. GRADUATED. STUDIES. SEVERE INFLAMMATION OF THE
EYE. His CHARACTER UNDER TRIAL. ANXIETY ABOUT HIS HEALTH.
Is TO VISIT EUROPE.
AT the time William thus gayly entered on his collegiate
career, he had, thanks to the excellent training he had
received from Dr. Gardiner, a good taste formed and forming
in English literature, and he probably knew more of Latin and
Greek not of Latin and Greek literature, but of the lan-
guages of Greece and Rome than most of those who entered
college with him knew when they were graduated. But, on the
other hand, he had no liking for mathematics, and never ac-
quired any ; nor did he ever like metaphysical discussions and
speculations. His position in his class was, of course, deter-
mined by these circumstances, and he was willing that it should
be. But he did not like absolutely to fail of a respectable rank.
It would not have been becoming the character of a cultivated
gentleman, to which at that time he more earnestly aspired
than to any other ; nor would it have satisfied the just expecta-
tions of his family, which always had much influence with him.
It was difficult for him, however, to make the efforts and the
sacrifices indispensable to give him the position of a real scholar.
He adopted, indeed, rules for the hours, and even the minutes,
that he would devote to each particular study; but he was
so careful never to exceed them, that it was plain his heart
was not in the matter, and that he could not reasonably hope
to succeed by such enforced and mechanical arrangements.
Still, he had already a strong will concealed under a gay and
light-hearted exterior. This saved him from many dangers.
16 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
He was always able to stop short of what he deemed flagrant
excesses, and to keep within the limits, though rather loose
ones, which he had prescribed to himself. His standard for the
character of a gentleman varied, no doubt, at this period, and
sometimes was not so high on the score of morals as it should
have been ; but he always acted up to it, and never passed the
world's line of honor, or exposed himself to academical cen-
sures by passing the less flexible line drawn by college rules.
He was, however, willing to run very near to both of them.
Among the modes he adopted at this time to regulate his
conduct, was one which had much more influence with him
later, than it had at first. It was that of making good reso-
lutions ; a practice in which he persevered through life to
an extraordinary extent, not always heeding whether he kept
them with great exactness, but sure to repeat them as often as
they were broken, until, at last, some of them took effect, and
his ultimate purpose was, in part at least, accomplished. He
pardoned himself, I suppose, too easily for his manifold neg-
lects and breaches of the compacts he had thus made with his
conscience; but there was repentance at the bottom of all,
and his character was strengthened by the practice. The early
part of his college career, however, when for the first time
he left the too gentle restraints of his father's house, was less
affected by this system of self-control, and was the most dan-
gerous period of his life. Upon portions of it he afterwards
looked back with regret.
"It was about this time," says Mr. Gardiner, in a very interesting
paper concerning his acquaintance with Mr. Prescott, which he has been
good enough to place at my disposition, " it was about this time, that id,
pretty early in his college life, when the first excitements of perfect liberty
of action were a little abated, that he began to form good resolutions, to
form them, not to keep them. This was, so far as I remember, the feeble
beginning of a process of frequent self-examination and moral self-control,
which he afterwards cultivated and practised to a degree beyond all exam-
ple that has come under my observation in cases of like constitutional
tendency. It was, I conceive, the truly great point of his moral character,
and the chief foundation of all he accomplished in after life as a literary
man ; a point which lay always concealed to transient observers under
lightness and gayety of manner.
" This habit of forming distinct resolutions about all sorts of things,
sometimes important, but often in themselves the merest trifles in the
world, grew up rapidly to an extent that became rather ludicrous ; espe-
STUDY AND CONDUCT. 17
cially as it was accompanied by another habit, that of thinking aloud, and
concealing nothing about himself, which led him to announce to the first
friend he met his latest new resolution. The practice, I apprehend, must
have reached its acme about the time when he informed me one day that
he had just made a new resolution, which was, since he found he could
not keep those which he had made before, that he would never make
another resolution as long as he lived. It is needless to say that this was
kept but a very short time.
" These resolutions, during college days, related often to the number of
hours, nay, the number of minutes, per day to be appropriated to each par-
ticular exercise or study ; the number of recitations and public prayers per
week that he would not fail to attend ; the number of times per week that
he would not exceed in attending balls, theatrical entertainments in Boston,
&c., &c. What was most observable in this sort of accounts that he used
to keep with himself was, that the errors were all on one side. Casual
temptations easily led him, at this time of life, to break through the
severer restrictions of his rule, but it was matter of high conscience with
him never to curtail the full quantity of indulgences which it allowed.
He would be sure not to run one minute over, however he might some-
times fall short of the full time for learning a particular lesson, which he
used to con over with his watch before him, lest by any inadvertence he
might cheat himself into too much study.
" On the same principle, he was careful never to attend any greater
number of college exercises, nor any less number of evening diversions in
Boston, than he had bargained for with himself. Then, as he found out
by experience the particular circumstances which served as good excuses
for infractions of his rule, he would begin to complicate his accounts with
himself by introducing sets of fixed exceptions, stringing on amendment,
as it were, after amendment to the general law, until it became extremely
difficult for himself to tell what his rule actually was in its application to
the new cases which arose ; and, at last, he would take the whole subject,
so to speak, into a new draft, embodying it in a bran-new resolution. And
what is particularly curious is, that all the casuistry attending this process
was sure to be published, as it went along, to all his intimates.
" The manner in which he used to compound with his conscience in
such matters is well illustrated by an anecdote, which properly belongs to
a little later period, but which may well enough be inserted here. It is
one which I was lately put in mind of by Mr. J. C. Gray, but which I had
heard that gentleman tell long ago in Prescott's presence, who readily
admitted it to be substantially true. The incident referred to occurred at
the time he and Mr. Gray were travelling together in Europe. An oculist,
or physician, whom he had consulted at Paris, had advised him, among
other things, to live less freely, and when pushed by his patient, as was his
wont, to fix a very precise limit to the quantity of wine he might take, his
adviser told him that he ought never to exceed two glasses a day. This
rule he forthwith announced his resolution to adhere to scrupulously. And
he did. But his manner of observing it was peculiar. At every new
house of entertainment they reached in their travels, one of the first things
Prescott did was to require the waiter to show him specimens of all the
wine-glasses the house afforded. He would then pick out from among
18 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
them the largest ; and this, though it might contain two or three times the
quantity of a common wine-glass, he would have set by his plate as his
measure at dinner to observe the rule in."
But just at the period of his college history to which Mr.
Gardiner chiefly refers, or a very little later, the painful acci-
dent befell him which, in its consequences, changed the whole
aspect of the world to him, and tended, more than any single
event in his life, to make him what he at last became. I refer,
of course, to the accident which so fatally impaired his sight.
It occurred in the Commons Hall, one day after dinner, in his
Junior year. On this occasion there was some rude frolicking
among the undergraduates, such as was not very rare when the
college officers had left the tables, as they frequently did, a few
minutes before the room was emptied. There was not, however,
in this particular instance, any considerable disorder, and Pres-
cott had no share in what there was. But when he was pass-
ing out of the door of the Hall, his attention was attracted by
the disturbance going on behind him. He turned his head
quickly to see what it was, and at the same instant received a
blow from a large, hard piece of bread, thrown undoubtedly
at random, and in mere thoughtlessness and gayety. It struck
the open eye ; a rare occurrence in the case of that vigilant
organ, which, on the approach of the slightest danger, is almost
always protected by an instant and instinctive closing of the
lids. But here there was no notice, no warning. The mis-
sile, which must have been thrown with great force, struck the
very disk of the eye itself. It was the left eye. He fell,
and was immediately brought to his father's house in town,
where, in the course of two or three hours from the occurrence of
the accident, he was in the hands of Dr. James Jackson, the kind
friend, as well as the wise medical adviser, of his father's family. 1
The first effects of the blow were remarkable. They were,
in fact, such as commonly attend a concussion of the brain.
1 There is a graceful tribute to Dr. Jackson in Prescott's Memoir of Mr.
John Pickering, where, noticing the intimacy of these two distinguished men,
he says, that in London Mr. Pickering was much with Dr. Jackson, who was
then " acquiring the rudiments of the profession which he was to pursue
through a long series of years with so much honor to himself and such widely
extended benefit to the community." Collections of the Massachusetts His-
torical Soqiety, Third Series, Vol. X. p. 208.
INJURY TO HIS EYE. 19
The strength of the patient was instantly and completely
prostrated. Sickness at the stomach followed. His pulse was
feeble. His face became pale and shrunken, and the whole
tone of his system was reduced so low, that he could not sit up
in bed. But his mind was calm and clear, and he was able to
give a distinct account of the accident that had befallen him,
and of what had preceded and followed it.
Under such circumstances no active treatment was deemed
advisable. Quiet was strictly prescribed. Whatever could
tend to the least excitement, physical or intellectual, was for-
bidden. And then nature was left to herself. This, no doubt,
was the wisest course. At any rate, the system, which had at
first yielded so alarmingly to the shock, gradually recovered its
tone, and in a few weeks he returned to Cambridge, and pur-
sued his studies as if nothing very serious had happened ; a
little more cautiously, perhaps, in some respects, but probably
with no diminution of such very moderate diligence as he had
previously practised. 2 But the eye that had been struck was
gone. No external mark, either then or afterwards, indicated
the injury that had been inflicted ; and, although a glimmering
light was still perceptible through the ruined organ, there was
none that could be made useful for any of the practical pur-
poses of life. On a careful examination, such as I once made,
with magnifying lenses, at his request, under the direction of
a distinguished oculist, a difference could indeed be detected
between the injured eye and the other, and sometimes, as I sat
with him, I have thought that it seemed more dim ; but to com-
mon observation, in society or in the streets, as in the well-
known case of the author of the " Paradise Lost," no change was
perceptible. It was, in fact, a case of obscure, deep paralysis
of the retina, and as such was beyond the reach of the healing
art from the moment the blow was given.
One circumstance, however, in relation to the calamity that
thus fell on him in the freshness of his youth, should not be
* This account of the original injury to Mr. Prescott's eye, and the notices
of his subsequent illnesses and death, in this Memoir, are abridged from an
interesting and important medical letter, which Dr. Jackson was good enough
to address to me in June, 1859, and which may be found entire in a little
volume entitled, "Another Letter to a Young Physician," (Boston, 1861,)
pp. 130 - 156.
20 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
overlooked, because it shows, even at this early period, the
development of strong traits in his character, such as marked
his subsequent life. I refer to the fact that he rarely mentioned
the name of the young man who had thus inflicted on him
an irreparable injury, and that he never mentioned it in a way
which could have given pain either to him or to those nearest
to him. Indeed, he so often spoke to me of the whole affair as
a mere chance-medley, for which nobody could be to blame,
and of which little could be distinctly known, that, for a time,
I supposed he was really ignorant, and preferred to remain ig-
norant, from whose hand the fatal blow had come. But it was
not so. He always knew who it was ; and, years afterwards,
when the burden of the injury he had received was much
heavier on his thoughts than it had been at first, arid when an
opportunity occurred to do an important kindness to the un-
happy person who had inflicted it, he did it promptly and cor-
dially. It was a Christian act, the more truly Christian,
because, although the blow was certainly given by accident, he-
who inflicted it never expressed any sympathy with the terrible
suffering he had occasioned. At least, the sufferer, to whom, if
to anybody, he should have expressed it, never knew that he
regretted what he had done.
When William returned to College, and resumed his studies
he had, no doubt, somewhat different views and purposes in life
from those which had most influenced him before his accident.
The quiet and suffering of his dark room had done their work,
at least in part. He was, compared with what he had been,
a sobered man. Not that his spirits were seriously affected by
it. They survived even this. But inducements and leisure for
reflection had been afforded him such as he had never known
before ; and, whether the thoughts that followed his accident
were the cause or not, he now determined to acquire a more
respectable rank in his class as a scholar, than he had earlier
deemed worth the trouble.
It was somewhat late to do it ; but, having no little courage
and very considerable knowledge in elegant literature, he in
part succeeded. His remarkable memory enabled him to get
on well with the English studies ; even with those for which,
as for the higher metaphysics, he had a hearty disrelish. But
TROUBLES IN COLLEGE. 21
mathematics and geometry seemed to constitute an insurmount-
able obstacle. He had taken none of the preparatory steps to
qualify himself for them, and it was impossible now to go back
to the elements, and lay a sufficient foundation. He knew, in
fact, nothing about them, and never did afterwards. He be-
came desperate, therefore, and took to desperate remedies.
The first was to commit to memory, with perfect exactness,
the whole mathematical demonstration required of his class
on any given day, so as to be able to recite every syllable and
letter of it as they stood in the book, without comprehending
the demonstration at all, or attaching any meaning to the
words and signs of which it was composed. It was, no doubt,
a feat o*nemory of which few men would have been capable,
but it was also one whose worthlessness a careful teacher would
very soon detect, and one, in itself, so intolerably onerous, that
no pupil could long practise it. Besides, it was a trick ; and a
fraud of any kind, except to cheat himself, was contrary to his
very nature.
After trying it, therefore, a few times, and enjoying what-
ever amusement it could afford him and his friends, who were
in the secret, he took another method more characteristic. He
went to his Professor, and told him the truth ; not only his
ignorance of geometry, and his belief that he was incapable
of understanding a word of it, but the mode by which he had
seemed to comply with the requisitions of the recitation-room,
while in fact he evaded them ; adding, at the same time, that,
as a proof of mere industry, he was willing to persevere in
committing the lessons to memory, and reciting by rote what
he did not and could not understand, if such recitations were
required of him, but that he would rather be permitted to use
his time more profitably. The Professor, struck with the hon-
esty and sincerity of his pupil, as well as with the singularity
of the case, and seeing no likelihood that a similar one would
occur, merely exacted his attendance at the regular hours, from
which, in fact, he had no power to excuse him ; but gave him
to understand that he should not be troubled further with the
duty of reciting. The solemn farce, therefore, of going to the
exercise, book in hand, for several months, without looking at
the lesson, was continued, and Prescott was always grateful to
the kindly Professor for his forbearance.
22 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
On another occasion, he was in danger of more serious
trouble with one of the Professors. In this case it arose from
the circumstance, that, at all periods of his life, Prescott was
now and then affected with a nervous laugh, or fit of laughter,
which, as it was always without adequate cause, sometimes
broke out most inopportunely. In a very interesting sketch of
some passages in his life, by his friend Gardiner, which I have
received since this Memoir was prepared, there is an account
of two such outbreaks, both of which I will give here, because
they are connected, and belong to nearly the same period in
his life, and because the last is strictly to be placed among his
college adventures. Speaking of this involuntary merriment,
Mr. Gardiner says :
" How mirthful he was, how fond of a merry laugh, how overflow-
ing with means to excite one on all admissible occasions, I have already
mentioned. But what I now speak of was something beyond this. He
had a sense of the ludicrous so strong, that it seemed at times quite to
overpower him. He would laugh on such occasions, not vociferously
indeed, but most inordinately, and for a long time together, as if possessed
by the spirit of Momus himself. It seemed to be something perfectly un-
controllable, provoked often by the slightest apparent cause ; and some-
times, in his younger days, under circumstances that made its indulgence
a positive impropriety. This seemed only to aggravate the disease. I
call it a disease ; for it deprived him at the time of all self-control, and in
one of the other sex would have been perhaps hysterical. But there was
something irresistibly comic in it to the by-standers, accompanied, as it
used to be, by imperfect efforts, through drolleries uttered in broken, half-
intelligible sentences, to communicate the ludicrous idea. This original
ludicrous idea he seldom succeeded in communicating ; but the infection
of laughter would spread, by a sort of animal magnetism, from one to
another, till I have seen a whole company perfectly convulsed with it, no
one of whom could have told what in the world he was laughing at, unless
it were at the sight of Prescott, so utterly overcome, and struggling in vain
to express himself.
" To give a better idea of this, I may cite an instance that I witnessed
in his younger days, either shortly before, or just after, his first European
tour. A party of young gentlemen and ladies he and I among them
undertook to entertain themselves and their friends with some private the-
atricals. After having performed one or two light pieces with some suc-
cess, we attempted the more ambitious task of getting up Julius Cassar.
It proceeded only to two partial rehearsals ; but the manner in which they
ended is to the present point. When all had sufficiently studied their
parts, we met for a final rehearsal. The part of Mark Antony had been
allotted to Piescott. He got through with it extremely well till he came
to the speech in the third act which begins, ' pardon me, thou bleeding
piece of earth ! ' This was addressed to one of our company, extended on
SUCCESS IN COLLEGE. 23
the floor, and enacting the part of Csesar's murdered corpse, with becom-
ing stillness and rigidity. At this point of the performance the ludicrous
seized upon Prescott to such a degree, that he burst out into one of his
grand fits of laughing, and laughed so immoderately and so infectiously,
that the whole company, corpse and all, followed suit, and a scene of
tumult ensued which put a stop to further rehearsal. Another evening we
attempted it again, after a solemn assurance from Prescott that he should
certainly command himself, and not give way to such a folly again. But
he did, in precisely the same place, and with the same result. After
that we gave up Julius Caesar.
" A more curious instance occurred while he was in college. I was
not present at this, but have heard him tell it repeatedly in after life. On
some occasion it happened that he went to the study of the Rhetorical
Professor, for the purpose of receiving a private lesson in elocution. The
Professor and his pupil were entirely alone. Prescott took his attitude as
orator, and J>egan to declaim the speech he had committed for the purpose ;
but, after proceeding through a sentence or two, something ludicrous sud-
denly came across him, and it was all over with him at once, just as
when he came to the ' bleeding piece of earth,' in the scene above narrated.
He was seized with just such an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The Pro-
fessor no laughing man looked grave, and tried to check him ; but
the more he tried to do so, the more Pres.cott was convulsed. The Pro-
fessor began to think his pupil intended to insult him. His dark features
grew darker, and-he began to speak in a tone of severe reprimand. This
only seemed to aggravate Prescott's paroxysm, while he endeavored, in
vain, to beg pardon ; for he could not utter an intelligible word. At last,
the sense of the extreme ludicrousness of the situation, and the perception
of Prescott's utter helplessness, seized hold of the Professor himself. He
had caught the infection. His features suddenly relaxed, and he too began
to laugh ; and presently the two, Professor and pupil, the more they looked
at each other the more they laughed, both absolutely holding on to their
sides, and the tears rolling down their cheeks. Of course, there was an
end of all reprimand, and equally an end of all declamation. The Pro-
fessor, as became him, recovered himself first, but only enough to say:
' Well, Prescott, yqu may go. This will do for to-day.' "
Mathematics, by the indulgence of his teacher, being dis-
posed of in the manner I have mentioned, and several other
of the severer studies being made little more than exercises of
memory, he was obliged to depend, for the distinction he de-
sired to obtain at college, and which his family demanded from
him, almost entirely -on his progress in Latin and Greek, and
on his proficiency in English literature. These, however, to-
gether with his zeal in pursuing them, were, by the kindness
of those in academical authority, admitted to be sufficient. He
received, in the latter part of his college career, some of the
customary honors of successful scholarship, and at its close a
24 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
Latin poem was assigned to him as his exercise for Commence-
ment.
No honor, however, that he received at college was valued
so much by him, or had been so much an object of his ambition,
as his admission to the Society of the Phi Beta Kappa, which
was composed, in its theory and pretensions, and generally in its
practice, of a moderate number of the best scholars in the two
upper classes. As the selection was made by the undergradu-
ates themselves, and as a single black-ball excluded the candi-
date, it was a real distinction ; and Prescott always liked to
stand well with his fellows, later in life no less than in youth.
From his own experience, therefore, he regarded this old and
peculiar society with great favor, and desired at all periods to
maintain its privileges and influence in the University. 3
The honor that he received on his graduation was felt to be
appropriate to his tastes, and was not a little valued by him
and by his father, as a proof of diligence in his classical studies.
It is a pity that the poem cannot be found ; but it seems to be
irrecoverably lost. Only a few months before his death, his col-
lege classmate^ Mr. S. D. Bradford, sent him one of a few
copies, which he had privately printed for his children and
friends, of his own scattered miscellanies, among which was a
college exercise in Latin prose. Prescott then said, alluding to
his own Latin poem : " I wish I had taken as good care of it
as you have of your exercises. I have hunted for it in every
quarter where I supposed I could have mislaid it, 'but in vain.
If I should find it," he adds, with his accustomed kindliness,
" I shall feel content if the Latin will pass muster as well as
in your performance."
It was a pleasant little poem, on Hope, " Ad Spem," and, if
8 The $ B K, it should be remembered, was, at that period, a society of much
more dignity and consequence than it is now. It had an annual public exhi-
bition, largely attended by such graduates as were its members, and, indeed,
by the more cultivated portion of the community generally. The under-
graduates were in this way associated at once with the prominent and distin-
guished among their predecessors, who were themselves pleased thus to recall
the rank, both as scholars and as gentlemen, which they had early gained,
and which they still valued. Membership in such an association was precisely
the sort of honor which a young man like Prescott would covet, and he
always regretted that its influence among the undergraduates had not been
sustained.
GRADUATION. 25
I remember rightly, it was in hexameters and pentameters. It
was delivered in a hot, clear day of August, 1814, in the old
meeting-house at Cambridge, to a crowded audience of the
most distinguished people of Boston and the neighborhood,
attracted in no small degree by an entertainment which Mr.
and Mrs. Prescott were to give the same afternoon in honor of
their son's success, one of the very last of the many large
entertainments formerly given at Cambridge on such occasions,
and which, in their day, rendered Commencement a more bril-
liant festival than it is now. I was there to hear my friend.
I could see, by his tremulous motions, that he was a good deal
frightened when speaking before so large an assembly ; but still
his appearance was manly, and his verses were thought well of
by those who had a right to judge of their merit. I have no
doubt they would do credit to his Latinity if they could now
be found, for at school he wrote such verses better than any
boy there.
After the literary exercises of the day came, of course, the
entertainment to the friends of the family. This was given as
a reward to the cherished son, which he valued not a little, and
the promise of which had much stimulated his efforts in the
latter part of his college life. It was, in fact, a somewhat
sumptuous dinner, under a marquee, at which above five hun-
dred persons of both sexes sat down, and which was thoroughly
enjoyed by all who took an interest in the occasion. His
mother did not hesitate to express the pleasure her son's suc-
cess had given her, and if his father, from the instincts of his
nature, was mor^e reserved, he was undoubtedly no less satisfied.
William was very gay, as he always was in society, and perfectly
natural ; dancing and frolicking on the green with great spirit
after the more formal part of the festivities was over. He was
not sorry that his college life was ended, and said so ; but he
parted from a few of his friends with sincere pain, as they left
Cambridge to go their several ways in the world, never to
meet again as free and careless as they then were. Indeed, on
such occasions, notwithstanding the vivacity of his nature, he
was forced to yield a little to his feelings, as I have myself
sometimes witnessed.*
* There are some remarks of Mr. Prescott on college life in his Memoir of
26 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
Immediately after leaving college, lie entered as a student in
his father's office ; for the law was, in some sort, his natural
inheritance, and with his own talents already sufficiently
developed to be recognized, and with the countenance and aid
of a lawyer as eminent as his father was the path to success
at the bar seemed both tempting and sure. But his tastes
were still for the pursuits which he had always most loved.
He entertained, indeed, no doubt what would be his ultimate
career in life ; but still he lingered fondly over his Greek and
Latin books, and was encouraged in an indulgence of his pref-
erence by his family and friends, who rightly regarded such
studies as the safest means and foundations for forensic emi-
nence. He talked with me about them occasionally, and I
rejoiced to hear his accounts of himself; for, although I had
then been myself admitted to the bar, my tastes were the same,
and it was pleasant for me to have his sympathy, as he. always
had mine.
Four or five months were passed in this way, and then
another dark and threatening cloud came over his happy life.
In January, 1815, he called one day on his medical adviser,
Mr. Pickering, written in 1848, not without a recollection of his own early
experiences, which may well be added here. " The four years of college life
form, perhaps, the most critical epoch hi the existence of the individual.
This is especially the case in our country, where they occur at the transition
period, when the boy ripens into the man. The University, that little
world of itself, shut out by a great barrier, as it were, from the past equally
with the future, bounding the visible horizon of the student like the walls of
a monastery, still leaves within them scope enough for all the sympathies and
the passions of manhood. Taken from the searching eye of parental super-
vision, the youthful scholar finds the shackles of early discipline fall from
him, as he is left to the disposal, in a great degree, of his own hours and the
choice of his own associates. His powers are quickened by collision with
various minds, and by the bolder range of studies now open to him. He finds
the same incentives to ambition as in the wider world, and contends with the
same zeal for honors which, to his eye, seem quite as real and are they not
so ? as those in later life. He meets, too, with the same obstacles to success
as in the world, the same temptations to idleness, the same gilded seductions,
but without the same power of resistance. For in this morning of life his
passions are strongest; his animal nature is more sensible to enjoyment; his
reasoning faculties less vigorous, and mature. Happy the youth who, in this
stage of his existence, is so strong in his principles that he can pass through
the ordeal without faltering or failing ; on whom the contact of bad com-
panionship has left no stain for future tears to wash away." Collections of
the Massachusetts Historical Society, Third Series, Vol. X., (1849,) pp. 206, 207.
INFLAMMATION IN HIS EYE. 27
Dr. Jackson, and consulted him for an inconsiderable inflam-
mation of his right eye. It was his sole dependence for sight,
and therefore, although it had served him tolerably well for
above a year and a half since the accident to the other, the
slightest affection of its powers inevitably excited anxiety. The
inflammation was then wholly on the surface of the organ, but
yet he complained of a degree of difficulty and pain in moving
it, greater than is commonly noticed in a case of sojittle gravity
as this otherwise seemed to be. Leeches, therefore, were or-
dered for the temple, and a saturnine lotion, simple remedies,
no doubt, but such as were sufficient for the apparent affection,
and quite as active in their nature as was deemed judicious.
But in the course of the night the pain was greatly increased,
and on the following morning the inflammation, which at first
had been trifling, was found to be excessive, greater, indeed,
than his physician, down to the present day, after a very wide
practice of above sixty years, has, as he informs me, ever wit-
nessed since. The eye itself was much swollen, the cornea had
become opaque, and the power of vision was completely lost.
At the same time the patient's skin was found to be very hot,
and his pulse hard and accelerated. The whole system, i'
short, was much disturbed, and the case had evidently become
one of unusual severity.
To his calm and wise father, therefore, to his physician,
who was not less his friend than his professional adviser, and
to himself, for he too was consulted, it seemed that every
risk, except that of life, should be run, to save him from the
permanent and total blindness with which he was obviously
threatened. Copious bleedings and other depletions were con-
sequently at once resorted to, and seemed, for a few hours,
to have made an impression on the disease ; but the suffering
returned again with great severity during the subsequent night,
and the inflammation raged with such absolute fury for five
days, as to resist every form of active treatment that could be
devised by his anxious physician, and by Dr. John C. Warren,
who had been summoned in consultation. The gloomiest appre-
hensions, therefore, were necessarily entertained ; and even
when, on the sixth day, the inflammation began to yield, and,
on the morning of the seventh, had almost wholly subsided,
28 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
little encouragement for a happy result could be felt ; for the
retina was found to be affected, and the powers of vision were
obviously and seriously impaired.
But in the afternoon of the seventh day the case assumed a
new phasis, and the father, much alarmed, hastened in person
to Dr. Jackson, telling him that one of the patient's knees had
become painful, and that the pain, accompanied with redness
and swelling^ was increasing fast. To his surprise, Dr. Jack-
son answered very emphatically that he was most happy to
hear it.
The mystery which had hung over the disease, from the first
intimation of a peculiar difficulty in moving the organ, was
now dispelled. It was a case of acute rheumatism. This had
not been foreseen. In fact, an instance in which the acute
form of that disease not the chronic had seized on the
eye was unknown to the books of the profession. Both of
his medical attendants, it is true, thought they had, in their
previous practice, noticed some evidence of such an affection ;
and therefore when the assault was made on the knee in the
present case, they had no longer any doubt concerning the
matter. As the event proved, they had no sufficient reason
for any. In truth, the rheumatism, which had attacked their
patient in this mysterious but fierce manner, was the disease
which, in its direct and indirect forms, persecuted him during
the whole of his life afterwards, and caused him most of the
sufferings and privations that he underwent in so many different
ways, but, above all, in the impaired vision of his remaining
eye. Bad, however, as was this condition of things, it was
yet a relief to his anxious advisers to be assured of its real
character ; not, indeed, because they regarded acute rheuma-
tism in the eye as a slight disease, but because they thought it
less formidable in its nature, and less likely at last to destroy
the structure of the organ, than a common inflammation so
severe and so unmanageable as this must, in the supposed case,
have been.
The disease now exhibited the usual appearances of acute
rheumatism ; affecting chiefly the large joints of the lower
extremities, but occasionally showing itself in the neck, and
in other parts of the person. Twice, in the course of the next
RHEUMATISM IN HIS EYE. 29
three months after the first attack, it recurred in the eye,
accompanied each time with total blindness; but, whenever it
left the eye, it resorted again to the limbs, and so severe was it,
even when least violent, that, until the beginning of May, a
period of sixteen weeks, the patient was unable to walk a step.
But nothing was able permanently to affect the natural flow
of his spirits, neither pain, nor the sharp surgical remedies
to which he was repeatedly subjected, nor the disheartening
darkness in which he was kept, nor the gloomy vista that the
future seemed to open before him. His equanimity and cheer-
fulness were invincible.
During nearly the whole of this trying period I did not see
him ; for I was absent on a journey to Virginia from the begin-
ning of December to the end of March. But when I did see
him, if seeing it could be called, in a room from which the
light was almost entirely excluded, I found him quite un-
changed, either in the tones of his voice or the animation of his
manner. He was perfectly natural and very gay ; talking
unwillingly of *his own troubles, but curious and interested con-
cerning an absence of several years in Europe which at that
time I was about to commence. I found him, in fact, just as
his mother afterwards described him to Dr. Frothingham,
when she said : " I never in a single instance, groped my way
across the apartment, to take my place at his side, that he did
not salute me with some expression of good cheer, not a
single instance, as if we were the patients, and his place
were to comfort us." 5
The following summer wore slowly away ; not without much
anxiety on the part of his family, as to what might be the end
of so much suffering, and whether the patient's infirmities
would not be materially aggravated by one of our rigorous
winters. Different plans were agitated. At last, in the early
autumn, it was determined that he should pass the next six
months with his grandfather Hickling, Consul of the United
States at St. Michael's, and then that he should visit London
and Paris for the benefit of such medical advice as he might
find in either metropolis ; travelling, perhaps, afterwards on the
6 Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society. (Boston, 1859,)
p. 183.
30 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
Continent, to recruit the resources of his constitution, which
by such long-continued illness had been somewhat impaired.
It was a remedy which was not adopted without pain and mis-
giving on both sides ; but it was evidently the best thing to be
done, and all submitted to it with patience and hope.
CHAPTER III.
1815-1816.
VISIT TO ST. MICHAEL'S. His LIFE THERE. SUFFERING IN HIS EYE.
His LETTERS TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER ; TO HIS SISTER ; AND
TO W. H. GARDINER.
IN fulfilment of the plan for travel mentioned in the last
chapter, he embarked at Boston, on the 26th of September,
*1815, for the Azores. Besides the usual annoyances of a sea-
voyage in one of the small vessels that then carried on our
commerce with the Western Islands, he suffered from the es-
pecial troubles of his own case ; sharp attacks of rheumatism
and an inflammation of the eye, for which he had no remedies
but the twilight of his miserable cabin, and a diet of rye pud-
ding, with no sauce but coarse salt. The passage, too, was
tediously long. He did not arrive until the twenty-second day.
Before he landed, he wrote to his father and mother, with the
freedom and affection which always marked his intercourse
with them :
" I have been treated," he said, " with every attention by the captain
and crew, and my situation rendered as comfortable as possible. But this
cabin was never designed for rheumatics. The companion-way opens
immediately upon deck, and the patent binnacle illuminators, vice windows,
are so ingeniously and impartially constructed, that for every ray of light
we have half a dozen drops of water. The consequence is, that the orbit
of my operations for days together has been very much restricted. I have
banished ennui, however, by battling with Democrats and bed-bugs, both
of which thrive on board this vessel, and in both of which contests I have
been ably seconded by the cook, who has officiated as my valet de chambre,
and in whom I find a great congeniality of sentiment."
An hour after writing this letter, October 18th, he landed.
He was most kindly received by his grandfather, a generous,
open-handed, open-hearted gentleman, seventy-two years old,
who had long before married a lady of the island as his second
wife, and was surrounded by a family of interesting children,
some of whom were so near the age of their young nephew of
32 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
the half-blood, that they made him most agreeable companions
and friends. They were all then residing a few miles from
Ponta Delgada, the capital of the island of St. Michael's, at a
place called Rosto de Cao, from the supposed resemblance of
its rocks to the head of a dog. It was a country-house, in the
midst of charming gardens and the gayest cultivation. The
young American, who had been little from home, and never
beyond the influences of the rude climate in which he was
born, enjoyed excessively the all but tropical vegetation with
which he found himself thus suddenly surrounded ; the laurels
and myrtles that everywhere sprang wild ; and the multitudi-
nous orange-groves which had been cultivated and extended
chiefly through his grandfather's spirit and energy, until their
fruit had become the staple of the island, while, more than
half the year, their flowers filled large portions of it with a
delicious fragrance ; " Hesperian fables true, if true, here
only."
But his pleasures of this sort were 'short-lived. He had
landed with a slight trouble in his eye, and a fortnight was
hardly over before he was obliged to shut himself up with it.
From November 1st to February 1st he was in a dark room ;
six weeks of the time in such total darkness, that the furniture
could not be distinguished ; and all the time living on a spare
vegetable diet, and applying blisters to keep down active in-
flammation. But his spirits were proof alike against pain and
abstinence. He has often described to me the exercise he took
in his large room, hundreds of miles in all, walking from
corner to corner, and thrusting out his elbows so as to get
warning through them of his approach to the angles of the
wall, whose plastering he absolutely wore away by the constant
blows he thus inflicted on it. And all this time, he added,
with the exception of a few days of acute suffering, he sang
aloud in his darkness and solitude, with unabated cheer. Later,
when a little light could be admitted, he carefully covered his
eyes, and listened to reading ; and, at the worst, he enjoyed
much of the society of his affectionate aunts and cousins.
But he shall speak for himself, in two or three of the few
letters which are preserved from the period of his residence in
the Azores and his subsequent travels in Europe.
AT ST. MICHAEL'S. 33
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER.
ROSTO DE CAO, 13 Nov., 1815.
It is with heart-felt joy, my beloved parents, that I can address you
from this blessed little isle. I landed on Wednesday, October 18th, at
10 A. M., after a most tedious passage of twenty-two days, although I had
made a fixed determination' to arrive in ten. I cannot be thankful enough
to Heaven that it had not cased in these rheumatic shackles the navigating
soul of a Cook or a Columbus, for I am very sure, if a fifth quarter of the
globe depended upon me for its exposure, it would remain terra incognita
forever I was received on the quay by my Uncles Thomas and
Ivers, and proceeded immediately to the house of the latter, where I dis-
posed of a nescio quantum of bread and milk, to the no small astonishment
of two or three young cousins, who thought it the usual American appetite.
The city of Ponta Delgada, as seen from the roads, presents an appear-
ance extremely unique, and, to one who has never been beyond the smoke
of his own hamlet, seems rather enchantment than reality. The brilliant
whiteness of the buildings, situated at the base of lofty hills, whose sides
are clothed with fields of yellow corn, and the picturesque, admirably
heightened by the turrets which rise from the numerous convents that dis-
grace and beautify the city, present a coup d'ceil on which the genius of a
Radcliffe, or indeed any one, much less aji admirer of the beauties of
nature than myself, might expend a folio of sentimentality and nonsense.
After breakfast I proceeded to Rosto de Cao, where I have now the good
fortune to be domesticated. My dear grandfather is precisely the man I
had imagined and wished him to be. Frank and gentlemanly in his de-
portment, affectionate to his family, and liberal to excess in all his feelings,
his hand serves as the conductor of his heart, and when he shakes yours,
he communicates all the overflowings of his own benevolent disposition.
His bodily virtues are no less inspiring than his mental. He rises every
morning at five, takes a remarkable interest in everything that is going
forward, and is so alert in his motions, that, at a fair start, I would lay
any odds he would distance the whole of his posterity. He plumes himself
not a little upon his constitution, and tells me that I am much more de-
serving of the title of " old boy " than himself.
I should give you a sort of biography of the whole family, but my aunt,
who officiates as secretary, absolutely refuses to write any more encomi-
ums on them, and, as I have nothing very ill to say of them at present, I
shall postpone this until you can receive some official documents sub mea
manu. The truth is, I am so lately recovered from a slight inflammation,
which the rain water, salt water, and other marine comforts are so well
calculated to produce, that I do not care to exert my eyes at present, for
which reason my ideas are communicated to you by the hand of my aunt.
We move into town this week, where I have been but seldom since my
arrival, and have confined my curiosity to some equestrian excursions
round the country. Novelty of scenery is alone sufficient to interest one
who has been accustomed to the productions of Northern climates. It is
very curious, my dear parents, to see those plants which one has been,
accustomed to see reared in a hot-house, flourishing beneath the open sky,
2* C
34 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
and attaining a height and perfection which no artificial heat can com-
mand. When I wander amid the groves of boxwood, cypress, and myr-
tle, I feel myself transported back to the ages of Horace and Anacreon,
who consecrated their shades to immortality.
The climate, though very temperate for winter, is much too frigid for
summer, and before I could venture a flight of poesy, I should be obliged
to thaw out my imagination over a good December fire. The weather is
so capricious, that the inhabitants" are absolutely amphibious ; if they
are in sunshine one half of the day, they are sure to be in water the other
half. . : . . .
Give my best affection to Aunt A 's charming family, and be par-
ticular respecting Mrs. H 's health. Tell my friends, that, when my
eyes are in trim, I shall not fail to fatigue their patience.
Remember me to our good people, and think often, my beloved parents, .
of your truly affectionate son,
WILLIAM.
TO HIS SISTEK.
ST. MICHAEL'S, Ponta Delgada, March 12, 1816.
I am happy, my darling sister, in an opportunity of declaring how
much I love, and how often I think of you
Since my recovery to avail myself of a simile not exactly Homeric
I may be compared to bottled beer, which, when it has been imprisoned
a long time, bursts forth with tremendous explosion, and evaporates in
froth and smoke. Since my emancipation I have made more noise and
rattled more nonsense than the ball-rooms of Boston ever witnessed. Two
or three times a week we make excursions into the country on jacks, a
very agreeable mode of riding, and visit the orangeries, which are now in
their prime. What a prospect presents itself for the dead of winter ! The
country is everywhere in the bloom of vegetation ; the myrtles, the roses,
and laurels are in full bloom, and the dark green of the orange groves is
finely contrasted with " the golden apples " which glitter through their
foliage. Amidst such a scene I feel like a being of another world, new
lighted on this distant home
The houses of this country are built of stone, covered with white lime.
They are seldom more than two stories in height, and the lower floors are
devoted to the cattle. They are most lavish of expense on their churches,
which are profusely ornamented with gilding and carving, which, though
poorly executed, produces a wonderful effect by candle-light. They are
generally fortified with eight or ten bells, and when a great character walks
off the carpet, they keep them in continual jingle, as they have great faith
in ringing the soul through Purgatory. When a poor man loses his
child, his friends congratulate him on so joyful an occasion ; but if his pig
dies, they condole with him. I know not but this may be a fair estimate
of their relative worth
The whole appearance of this country is volcanic. In the environs I
have seen acres covered with lava, and incapable of culture, and most of
the mountains still retain the vestiges of craters. Scarcely a year parses
without an earthquake. I have been so fortunate as to witness the most
AT ST. MICHAEL'S. 35
tremendous of these convulsions within the memory of the present inhabi-
tants. This was on the 1st of February, at midnight. So severe was the
shock, that more than forty houses and many of the public edifices were
overthrown or injured, and our house cracked in various places from top
to bottom. The whole city was thrown into consternation. Our family
assembled en chemise in the corridor. I was wise enough to keep quiet in
bed, as I considered a cold more dangerous to me than an earthquake.
But we were all excessively alarmed.* There is no visitation more awful
than this. From most dangers there is some refuge, but when nature is
convulsed, where can we fly ? An earthquake is commonly past before
one has time to estimate the horrors of his situation ; but this lasted three
minutes and a half, and we had full leisure to summon up the ghosts of
Lisbon and Herculaneum, and many other recollections equally soothing,
and I confess the idea of terminating my career in this manner was not
the most agreeable of my reflections.
A few weeks since, my dear sister, I visited some hot springs in Ribeira
Grande, at the northern part of the island ; but, as I have since been to
"the Furnace," where I have seen what is much more wonderful and
beautiful in nature, I shall content myself with a description of the latter
excursion.
Our road lay through a mountainous country, abounding in wild and
picturesque scenery. Our party consisted of about twenty, and we trav-
elled upon jacks, which is the pleasantest conveyance in the world, both
from its sociability, and the little fatigue which attends it. As we rode
irregularly, our cavalcade had a very romantic appearance ; for, while
some of us were in the vale, others were on the heights of the mountains,
or winding down the declivities, on the brink of precipices two hundred
feet perpendicular.
As my imagination was entirely occupied with the volcanic phenomena
for which the Furnace is so celebrated, I had formed no ideas of any milder
attractions. What was my surprise, then, when, descending the moun-
tains at twilight, there burst upon our view a circular valley, ten miles in
circumference, bounded on all sides by lofty hills, and in the richest state
of cultivation. The evening bell was tolling, as we descended into the plain,
to inform the inhabitants of sunset, the Angelus, and this, with the
whistle of the herdsmen, which in this country is peculiarly plaintive, and
the " sober gray " of evening, all combined to fill my bosom with senti-
ments of placid contentment
I consider it almost fruitless to attempt to describe the Caldeiras [the
Caldrons J, as can I convey no adequate idea of their terrible appearance.
There are seven principal ones, the largest about twenty feet in diameter.
They are generally circular, but differing both in form and dimensions.
They boil with such fervor as to eject the water to the height of twenty
feet, and make a noise like distant thunder
Grandfather's house is situated in the centre of this beautiful valley. It
has undergone several alterations since mother was here. The entrance
is through a long avenue of shady box-trees, and you ascend to it by a
flight of fifty stone steps. Near the house is a grove which was not even
in embryo when mother was here. In front of it is a pond, with a
small island in the middle, connected with the main land by a stone
86 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
bridge. In this delightful spot I had some of the happiest hours which I
have spent since I quitted my native shores. At " Yankee Hall " l every
one is sans souci. The air of the place is remarkably propitious both to
good spirits and good appetites. 2
In my walks I met with many villagers who recollected Donna Cathe-
rina, 3 and who testified their affection for her son in such hearty embrassades
as I am not quite Portuguese enough to relish
Adieu, my darling sister. I know not how I shall be able to send you
this letter. I shall probably take it with me to London, where opportuni-
ties will be much more frequent, and where your patience will be much
oftener tried by your sincerely affectionate
W.
TO WILLIAM H. GARDINER.
PONTA DELGADA, St. Michael's, March, 1816.
I am fortunate, my dear Will, in an opportunity of addressing you from
the orange bowers of St.' Michael's, and of acknowledging the receipt of
your Gazettes, with their budgets scandalous and philosophical. I must
pronounce you, my friend, the optimus editorum, for, in the language of the
commentators, you have not left a single desideratum ungratified. It is
impossible to be too minute. To one absent from home trifles are of im-
portance, and the most petty occurrences are the more acceptable, as they
transport us into scenes of former happiness, and engage us in the occupa-
tions of those in whom we are the most interested. I was much distressed
by the death of my two friends. R 's I had anticipated, but the cir-
cumstances which attended it were peculiarly afflicting. Few I believe
have spent so long a life in so short a period. He certainly had much
benevolence of disposition ; but there was something uncongenial in his
temper, which made him unpopular with the mass of his acquaintance.
If, however, the number of his enemies was great, that of his virtues ex-
ceeded them. Those of us who shared his friendship knew how to appre-
ciate his worth. 4 P , with less steadiness of principle, had many social
qualities which endeared him to his friends. The sprightliness of his fancy
has beguiled us of many an hour, and the vivacity of his wit, as you well
know, has often set our table in a roar
Your letters contain a very alarming list of marriages and matches. If
the mania continues much longer, I shall find at my return most of my
fair companions converted into sober matrons. I believe I had better adopt
your advice, and, to execute it with a little more dat, persuade some kind
nun to scale the walls of her convent with me.
Apropos of nunneries : the novelty of the thing has induced me to visit
them frequently, but I find that they answer very feebly to those romantic
notions of purity and simplicity which I had attached to them. Almost
1 The name of the large house his grandfather had built at the " Caldei-
ras," remembering his own home.
2 Elsewhere he calls this visit, " Elysium, four days."
8 His mother's Christian name.
* A college friend of great promise who died in England in 1815.
AT ST. MICHAEL'S. 87
every nun Has a lover ; that is, an innamorato who visits her every day,
and swears as many oaths of constancy, and imprints as many kisses on the
grates as ever Pyramus and Thisbe did on the unlucky chink which sepa-
rated them. I was invited the other day to select one of these fair penitents,
but, as I have no great relish for such a correspondence, I declined the
politeness, and content myself with a few ogles and sighs en passant.
It is an interesting employment for the inhabitants of a free country,
flourishing under the influences of a benign religion, to contemplate the
degradation to which human nature may be reduced when oppressed by
arbitrary power and papal .superstition. My observation of the Portuguese
character has half inclined me to credit Monboddo's theory, and consider
the inhabitants in that stage of the metamorphosis when, having lost the
tails of monkeys, they .have not yet acquired the brains of men. In me-
chanical improvements, and in the common arts and conveniences of life,
the Portuguese are at least two centuries behind the English, and as to
literary acquisitions, if, as some writers have pretended, "ignorance is
bliss," they may safely claim to be the happiest people in the world.
But, if animated nature is so debased, the beauties of the inanimate cre-
ation cannot be surpassed. During the whole year we have the unruffled
serenity of June. Such is the temperature of the climate, that, although
but a few degrees south of Boston, most tropical plants will flourish ; and
such is the extreme salubrity, that nothing venomous can exist. These
islands, however, abound in volcanic phenomena. I have seen whole fields
covered with lava, and most of the mountains still retain the vestiges of
craters. I have, too, had the pleasure of experiencing an earthquake,
which shook down a good number of houses, and I hope I shall not soon
be gratified with a similar exhibition.
But the most wonderful of the natural curiosities are the hot wells, which
are very numerous, and of which it would be impossible to give you an
adequate conception. The fertility of the soil is so great, that they gen-
erally obtain two crops in a year, and now, while you are looking wofully
out of the window waiting for the last stroke of the bell before you en-
counter the terrific snow-banks which threaten you, with us the myrtle, the
rose, the pomegranate, the lemon and orange groves are in perfection, and
the whol country glowing in full bloom. Indeed, there is everything
which can catch tie poet's eye, but you know, Sine Venere, friget Apollo,
and, until some Azorian nymph shall warm my heart into love, the beau-
ties of nature will hardly warm my imagination into poesy.
I must confess, however, that friendship induced me to make an effort
this way. I have been confined to my chamber for some time by an indis-
position ; and while in duress I commenced a poetical effusion to you, and
had actually completed a page, when, recovering my liberty, there were so
many strange objects to attract the attention, and I thought it so much less
trouble to manufacture bad prose than bad poetry, that I dismounted from
Pegasus, whom, by the by, I found a confounded hard trotter. Now, as
you are professedly one of the genus irritabile, I think you cannot employ
your leisure better than in serving me an Horatian dish secundum artem.
Give my warmest affection to your father, mother, and sisters, and be
assured, my dear Will, whether rhyme or reason, your epistles will ever
confer the highest gratification on your friend,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER.
ST. MICHAEL'S, March 15, 1816.
I cannot regret, my beloved parents, that the opportunities of writing
have not been more frequent; for, although it would be cruel to inform
you of distresses, while actually existing, which it was not in your power
to alleviate, yet it is so soothing to the mind to communicate its griefs, that
I doubt if I could refrain from it.
The windows in Rosto de Cao are constructed on much the same prin-
ciple as our barn-doors. Their uncharitable quantity of light and a slight
cold increased the inflammation with which I landed to such a degree,
that, as I could not soften the light by means of blinds, which are unknown
here, I was obliged to exclude it altogether by closing the shutters. The
same cause retarded my recovery ; for, as the sun introduced himself sans
certfmonie whenever I attempted to admit the light, I was obliged to remain
in darkness until we removed to the city, where I was accommodated with
a room which had a northern aspect, and, by means of different thicknesses
of baize nailed to the windows, I was again restored to the cheering beams
of heaven. This confinement lasted from the 1st of November to the 1st
of February, and during six weeks of it I was in such total darkness it was
impossible to distinguish objects in the room. Much of this time has been
beguiled of its tediousness by the attentions of A and H , particu-
larly the latter, who is a charming creature, and whom I regard as a second
sister.
I have had an abundance of good prescriptions. Grandfather has strongly
urged old Madeira as a universal nostrum, and my good uncle the doctor
no less strenuously recommended beef-steak. I took their advice, for it
cost me nothing ; but, as following it cost me rather too dear, I adhered
with Chinese obstinacy to bread and milk, hastji pudding, and gruel.- This
diet and the application of blisters was the only method I adopted to pre-
serve my eye from inflammation.
I have not often, my dear parents, experienced depression of spirits, and
there have been but few days in which I could not solace my sorrows with
a song. I preserved my health by walking on the piazza with a -handker-
chief tied over a pair of goggles, which were presented ft) me by a gentle-
man here, and by walking some hundreds of miles in my room, so that I
emerged from my dungeon, not with the emaciated figure of a prisoner,
but in the florid bloom of a bon vivant. Indeed, everything has been done
which could promote my health and happiness ; but darkness has few
charms for those in health, and a long confinement must exhaust the
patience of all but those who are immediately interested in us. A person
situated as I have been can be really happy nowhere but at home, for
where but at home can he experience the affectionate solicitude of parents.
But the gloom is now dissipated, and my eyes have nearly recovered their
former vigor. I am under no apprehension of a relapse, as I shall soon
be wafted to a land where the windows are of Christian dimensions, and
the medical advice such as may be relied upon.
The most unpleasant of my reflections suggested by this late inflamma-
tion are those arising from the probable necessity of abandoning a profes-
LETTER TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 39
sion congenial with my taste, and recommended by such favorable oppor-
tunities, and adopting one for which I am ill qualified, and have but little
inclination. It is some consolation, however, that this latter alternative,
should my eyes permit, will afford me more leisure for the pursuit of my
favorite studies. But on this subject I shall consult my physician, and
will write you his opinion. My mind has not been wholly stagnant dur-
ing my residence here. By means of the bright eyes of H I have
read part of Scott, Shakespeare, Travels through England and Scotland,
the Iliad, and the Odyssey. A has read some of the Grecian and
Roman histories, and I have cheated many a moment of its tedium by
composition, which was soon banished from my mind for want of an.
amanuensis.
CHAPTER IV.
1816.
LEAVES ST. MICHAEL'S. ARRIVES IN LONDON. PRIVATIONS THERE,
PLEASURES. GOES TO PARIS. GOES TO IT ALT. RETURNS TO
PARIS. ILLNESS THERE. GOES AGAIN TO LONDON. TRAVELS LIT-
TLE IN ENGLAND. DETERMINES TO RETURN HOME. LETTER TO W.
H. GARDINER.
HIS relations to the family of his venerable grandfather
at St. Michael' s, as the preceding letters show, were of
the most agreeable kind, and the effect produced by his charac-
ter on all its members, old and young, was the same that it
produced on everybody. They all loved him. His grand-
mother, with whom, from the difference of their languages, he
could have had a less free intercourse than with the rest, wept
bitterly when he left them ; and his patriarchal grandfather,
who had, during his long life, been called to give up several of
his house to the claims of the world, pressed him often in his
arms on the beach, and, as the tears rolled down his aged
cheeks, cried out, in the bitterness of his heart, " God knows, it
never cost me more to part from any of my own children."
On the 8th of April, 1816, he embarked for London. His
acute rheumatism and the consequent inflammation in his eye
recurred almost of course, from the exposures incident to a sea
life with few even of the usual allowances of sea comforts.
He was, therefore, heartily glad when, after a passage pro-
longed to four and twenty days, two and twenty of which he
had been confined to his state-room, and kept on the most
meagre fare, his suffering eye rested on the green fields of old
England.
In London he placed himself in the hands of Dr. Farre ; of
Mr. Cooper, afterwards Sir Astley Cooper ; and of Sir William
Adams, the oculist. He could not, perhaps, have done better.
But his case admitted of no remedy and few alleviations ; for
VISITS ENGLAND. 41
it was ascertained, at once, that the eye originally injured was
completely paralyzed, and that for the other little could be
done except to add to its strength by strengthening the whole
physical system. He followed, however, as he almost always
did, even when his hopes were the faintest, all the prescriptions
that were given him, and submitted conscientiously to the pri-
vations that were imposed. He saw few persons that could
much interest him, because evening society was forbidden, and
he went to public places and exhibitions rarely, and to the
theatre never, although he was sorely tempted by the farewell
London performances of Mrs. Siddons and Mr. John Kemble.
A friend begged him to use an excellent library as if it were
his own ; " but," he wrote to his father and mother, " when I
look into a Greek or Latin book, I experience much the same
sensation one does who looks on the face of a dead friend, and
the tears not infrequently steal into my eyes." He made a
single excursion from London. It was to Richmond ; visiting
at the same time Slough, where he saw Herschel's telescopes,
Eton, Windsor, and Hampton Court, all with Mr. John
Quincy Adams, then our Minister at the Court of St. James.
It was an excursion which he mentions with great pleasure in
one of his letters. He could, indeed, hardly have made it
more agreeably or more profitably. But this was his only
pleasure of the sort.
A fresh and eager spirit, however, like his, could not stand
amidst the resources of a metropolis so magnificent as London
without recognizing their power. Enjoyments, therefore, he
certainly had, and, if they were rare, they were high. Noth-
ing in the way of art struck him so much as the Elgin Mar-
bles and the Cartoons of Raphael. Of the first, which he
visited as often as he dared to do so, he says, " There are few
living beings in whose society I have experienced so much real
pleasure," and of the last, that " they pleased him a great deal
more than the Stafford collection." It may, as it seems to me,
be fairly accounted remarkable, that one whose taste in sculp-
ture and painting could not have been cultivated at home
should at once have felt the supremacy of those great works
of ancient and modern art, then much less acknowledged
than it is now, and even yet, perhaps, not so fully confessed
as it will be.
42 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
He went frequently to the public libraries and to the princi-
pal booksellers' shops, full of precious editions of the classics
which he had found it so difficult to obtain in his own country,
and which he so much coveted now. But of everything con-
nected with books his enjoyment was necessarily imperfect.
At this period he rarely opened them. He purchased a few,
however, trusting to the future, as he always did.
Early in August he went over to Paris, and remained there,
or in its neighborhood, until October. But Paris could hardly
be enjoyed by him so much as London, where his mother
tongue made everything seem familiar in a way that nothing
else can. He saw, indeed, a good deal of what is external ;
although, even in this, he was checked by care for his eye, and
by at least one decided access of inflammation. Anything, how-
ever, beyond the most imperfect view of what he visited was
out of the question.
The following winter, which he passed in Italy, was proba-
bly .beneficial to his health, so far as his implacable enemy, the
rheumatism, was concerned, and certainly it was full of enjoy-
ment. He travelled with his old schoolfellow and friend, Mr.
John Chipman Gray, who did much to make the journey pleas-
ant to him. After leaving Paris, they first stopped a day at La
Grange to pay their respects to General Lafayette, and then
went by Lyons, the Mont Cenis, Turin, Genoa, Milan, Venice,
Bologna, and Florence to Rome. In Rome they remained
about six weeks ; after which, giving a month to Naples, they
returned through Rome to Florence, and, embarking at Leg-
horn for Marseilles, made a short visit to Nismes, not forget-
ting Avignon and Vaucluse, and then hastened by Fontaine-
bleau to Paris, where they arrived on the 30th of March. It
was the customary route, and the young travellers saw what all
travellers see, neither more nor less, and enjoyed it as all do
who have cultivation like theirs and good taste. In a letter
written to me the next year, when I was myself in Italy, he
speaks with great interest of his visit there, and seems to regret
Naples more than any other portion of that charming country.
But twenty and also forty years later, when I was again in
Italy, his letters to me were full, not of Naples, but of Rome.
* Rome is the place," he said, " that lingers longest, I suppose,
TRAVELS IN ITALY. 43
in everybody's recollection ; at least, it is the brightest of all I
saw in Europe." This was natural. It was the result of the
different vistas through which, at widely different periods of his
life, he looked back upon what he had so much enjoyed.
One thing, however, in relation to his Italian journeyings,
though not remarkable at the time, appears singular now,
when it is seen in the light of his subsequent career. He
passed over the battle-fields of Gonsalvo de Cordova, and all
that made the Spanish arms in Italy so illustrious in the time
of Ferdinand and Isabella, without a remark, and, I suppose,
without a thought. But, as he often said afterwards, and,
indeed, more than once wrote to me, he was then fresh from
the classical studies he so much loved ; Horace and Livy, I
know, were suspended in the net of his travelling-carriage ;
and he thought more, I doubt not, of Cassar and Cicero, Virgil
and Tacitus, than of all the moderns put together.
Indeed, the moderns were, in one sense, beyond his reach.
He was unable to give any of his time to the language or the
literature of Italy, so wholly were his eyes unfitted for use.
But he was content with what his condition permitted ; to
walk about among the ruins of earlier ages, and occasionally
look up a passage in an ancient classic to explain or illustrate
them. The genius loci was at his side wherever he went, and
showed him things invisible to mortal sight. As he said in one
of his letters to me, it was to him " all a sacred land," and
the mighty men of old stood before him in the place of the
living.
A few days after he reached Paris, April 7, 1 arrived there
from Germany, where I had been passing nearly two years ;
and, as we both had accidentally the same banker, our lodgings
had been^ engaged for us at the same hotel. In this way he
was one of the very first persons I saw when I alighted. His
parlor, I found, was darkened, and his eye was still too sensi-
tive for any healthy use of it ; but his spirits were light, and
his enthusiasm about his Italian journey was quite contagious.
We walked a little round the city together, and dined that day
with our hospitable banker very gayly. But this was the last
of his pleasures in Paris. When we reached our hotel, he
complained of feeling unwell, and I was so much alarmed by
44 .WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
the state of his pulse that I went personally for his physician,
and brought him back with me, fearing, as it was already late
at night, that there might -otherwise be some untoward delay.
The result showed that I had not been unreasonably anxious.
The most active treatment was instantly adopted, and absolute
quiet prescribed. I watched with him that night ; and, as I
had yet made no acquaintances in Paris, and felt no interest
there, so strong as my interest in him, I shut myself up with
him, and thought little of what was outside the walls of our
hotel till he was better.
I was, in fact, much alarmed. Nor was he insensible to his
position, which the severity of the remedies administered left
no doubt was a critical one. But he maintained his composure
throughout, begging me, however, not to tell him that his
illness was dangerous unless I should think it indispensable to
do so. In three or four days my apprehensions were relieved.
In eight or ten more, during which I was much with him, he
was able to go out, and in another week he was restored. But
it was in that dark room that I first learned to know him as I
have never known any other person beyond the limits of my
immediate family ; and it was there that was first formed a
mutual regard over which, to the day of his death, a period
of above forty years, no cloud ever passed.
In the middle of May, after making a pleasant visit of a
week to Mr. Daniel Parker 1 at Draveil, he left Paris, and
went, by the way of Brighton, to London, where he remained
about six weeks, visiting .anew, so far as his infirmities would
permit, what was most interesting to him, and listening more
than he had done before to debates in the House of Lords and
the House of Commons. But the country gave him more
pleasure than the city. His eyes suffered less there, and,
besides, he was always sensible to what is beautiful in nature.
Two excursions that he made gratified him very much. One
1 Mr. Parker was an American gentleman, who lived very pleasantly on a
fine estate at Draveil, near Paris. Mr. Prescott was more than once at his
hospitable chateau, and enjoyed his visits there much. It was there he first
became acquainted with Mr. Charles King, subsequently distinguished in
political life and as the President of Columbia College, who, after the death
of the historian, pronounced a just and beautiful eulogium on him before the
New- York Historical Society, Feb. 1st, 1859.
IN ENGLAND. 45
was to Oxford, Blenheim, and the Wye ; in which the Gothic
architecture of New-College Chapel and the' graceful ruins of
Tintern Abbey, with the valley in which they stand, most
attracted his admiration, the last " surpassing," as he said,
" anything of the sort he had ever seen." He came back by
Salisbury, and then almost immediately went to Cambridge,
where he was more interested by the manuscripts of Milton
and Newton than by anything else, unless, perhaps, it were
King's College Chapel. But, after all, this visit to England
was very unsatisfactory. He spoke to me in one of his letters
of being " invigorated by the rational atmosphere of London,"
in comparison with his life on the Continent. But still the
state of his eyes, and even of his general health, deprived him
of many enjoyments which his visit would otherwise have
afforded him. He was, therefore, well pleased to turn his face
towards the comforts of home.
Of all this, pleasant intimations may be found in the follow-
ing letter to his friend Gardiner :
LONDON, 29th May, 1817.
I never felt in my life more inclined to scold any one, my dear Gardi-
ner, than I do to scold you at present, and I should not let you off so ea-
sily but that my return will prevent the benefits of a reformation. You
have ere this received a folio of hieroglyphics which I transmitted to you
from Rome. 2 To read them, I am aware, is impossible ; for, as I was
folding them up, I had occasion to refer to something, and found myself
utterly unable to decipher my own writing. I preferred, however, to send
them, for, although unintelligible, they would at least be a substantial
evidence to my friend that I had not forgotten him. As you probably
have been made acquainted with my route by my family, I shall not
trouble you with the details.
Notwithstanding the many and various objects which Italy possesses,
they are accompanied with so many desagrtfmens, poor inns, worse roads,
and, above all, the mean spirit and dishonesty of its inhabitants, that
we could not regret the termination of our tour. I was disappointed in
France, that is to say, the country. That part of it which I have seen,
excepting Marseilles, Nismes, Avignon, and Lyons, possesses few beau-
ties of nature, and little that is curious or worthy of remark. Paris is
everything in France. It is certainly unique. With a great parade of
science and literary institutions, it unites a constant succession of frivolities
and public amusements. I was pleased as long as the novelty lasted, and
satiated in less than two months. The most cheerful mind must become
dull amidst unintermitted gayety and dissipation, unless it is constructed
upon a French anatomy.
2 Written with his noctograph.
46 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
I left in a retired part of the city, diligently occupied with the
transition of the Eoman language into the Italian, and with the ancient
French Provencal dialect. There are some men who can unravel prob-
lems in the midst of a ball-room. In the fall goes down to Italy.
I have now been a fortnight in London. Its sea-coal atmosphere is
extremely favorable to my health. I am convinced, however, that travel-
ling is pernicious, and, instead of making the long tour of Scotland, shall
content myself with excursions to the principal counties and manufactur-
ing towns in England. In a couple of months I hope to embark, and
shall soon have the pleasure of recapitulating with you, my friend, my
perils and experiences, and treading in retrospection the classic ground of
Italy. I sincerely hope you may one day visit a country which contains
so much that is interesting to any man of liberal education
I anticipate with great pleasure the restoration to my friends ; to those
domestic and social enjoyments which are little known in the great capi-
tals of Europe. Pray give my warmest regards to your father, mother,
and sisters, and n'oubliez jamais
Your sincerely affectionate
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
CHAPTER V.
1817-1824.
RETURN FROM ENGLAND. RHEUMATISM. FIRST LITERARY ADVEN-
TURE. DECIDES NOT TO BE A LAWYER. FALLS IN LOVE. MAR-
RIES. CONTINUES TO LIVE WITH HIS FATHER. SWORDS OF HIS
GRANDFATHER AND OF THE GRANDFATHER OF HIS WIFE. His PER-
SONAL APPEARANCE. CLUB OF FRIENDS. THE " CLUB-ROOM."
DETERMINES TO BECOME A MAN OF LETTERS. OBSTACLES IN HIS
WAY. EFFORTS TO OVERCOME THEM. ENGLISH STUDIES. FRENCH.
ITALIAN. OPINION OF PETRARCH AND OF DANTE. FURTHER
STUDIES PROPOSED. DESPAIRS OF LEARNING GERMAN.
HE embarked from England for home at midsummer, and
arrived before the heats of our hot season were over. His
affectionate mother had arranged everything for his reception that
could insure the rest he needed, and the alleviations which, for an
invalid such as he was, can never be found except in the bosom
of his family. Fresh paper and paint were put on his own
room, and everything external was made bright and cheerful to
welcome his return. But it was all a mistake. His eye, to
the great disappointment of his friends, had not been strength-
ened during his absence, and could ill bear the colors that had
been provided to cheer him. The white paint was, therefore,
forthwith changed to gray, and the walls and carpet became
green. But neither was this thought enough. A charming
country-house was procured, since Nature furnishes truer car-
pets and hangings than the upholsterer ; but the house was
damp from its cool position, and from the many trees that sur-
rounded it. 1 His old enemy, the rheumatism, therefore, set in
with renewed force ; and in three days, just as his father was
driving out to dine, for the first time, in their rural home, he
met them all hurrying back to the house in town, where they
remained nearly two years, finding it better for the invalid than
1 This account is taken from the memoranda of his sister, Mrs. Dexter,
whose graceful words I have sometimes used both here and elsewhere in the
next few pages.
48 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
any other. It was a large, comfortable old mansion in Bedford
Street, and stood where the Second Congregational Church now
stands.
The winter of 1817-18 he passed wholly at home. As he
wrote to me, his " eyes made him a very domestic, retired man."
He avoided strong light as much as he could ; and, extravagantly
as he loved society, indulged himself in it not at all, because he
found, or rather because he thought he found, its excitements in-
jurious to him. But his old schoolfellow and friend Gardiner,
who was then a student-at-law in the elder Mr. Prescott's office,
read some of his favorite classics with him a part of each day ;
and his sister, three years younger than he was, shut herself up
with him the rest of it, in the most devoted and affectionate man-
ner, reading to him sometimes six or even eight hours consecu-
tively. On these occasions he used to place himself in the corner
of the room, with his face to the angle made by the walls, and his
back to the light. Adjusted thus, they read history and poetry,
often v'ery far into the night, and, although the reader, as she
tells me, sometimes dozed, he never did. It was a great enjoy-
ment to them both, to her, one of the greatest of her life ;
but it was found too much for her strength, and the father and
mother interfered to restrain and regulate what was unreason-
able in the indulgence.
It was during this period that he made his first literary ad-
venture. The North- American Review had then been in exist-
ence two or three years, and was already an extremely respect-
able journal, with which some of his friends were connected.
It offered a tempting opportunity for the exercise of his powers,
and he prepared an article for it. The project was a deep
secret ; and when the article was finished, it was given to his
much trusted sister to copy. He felt, she thinks, some misgiv-
ings, but on the whole looked with favor on his first-born. It
was sent anonymously to the club of gentlemen who then man-
aged the Review, and nothing was heard in reply for a week or
more. The two who were in the secret began, therefore, to
consider their venture safe, and the dignity of authorship, his
sister says, seemed to be creeping over him, when one day he
brought back the article to her, saying : " There ! it is good for
nothing. They refuse it. I was a fool to send it." The sister
DECIDES NOT TO BE A LAWYER. 49
was offended. But he was not. He only cautioned her not to
tell of his failure.
He was now nearly twenty-two years old, and it was time to
consider what should be his course in life. So far as the pro-
fession o"f the law was concerned, this question had been sub-
stantially settled by circumstances over which he had no con-
trol. His earliest misgivings on the subject seemed to have
occurred during his long and painful confinement at St. Mi-
chael's, and may be found in a letter, before inserted, which
was written March 15th, 1816.
A little later, after consulting eminent members of the medi-
cal profession in London, he wrote more decisively and more
despondingly : " As to the future, it is too evident I shall never
be able to pursue a profession. God knows how poorly I am
qualified, and how little inclined, to be a merchant. Indeed, I
am sadly puzzled to think how I shall succeed even in this
without eyes, and am afraid I shall never be able to draw upon
my mind to any large amount," a singular prophecy, when we
consider that his subsequent life for nearly forty years was a
persistent contradiction of it.
After his return home this important question became, of
course, still more pressing, and was debated in the family with
constantly increasing anxiety. At the same time he began to
doubt whether the purely domestic life he was leading was the
best for him. The experiment of a year's seclusion, he was
satisfied, and so were his medical advisers, had resulted in no
improvement to his sight, and promised nothing for the future
if it should be continued. He began, therefore, to go abroad,
gradually and cautiously at first, but afterwards freely. No
harm followed, and from this time, except during periods when
there was some especial inflammation of the eye, he always
mingled freely in a wide range of society, giving and receiving
great pleasure.
The consequence followed that might have been anticipated
from a nature at once so susceptible and so attractive. He soon
found one to whom he was glad to intrust the happiness of his
life. Nor was he disappointed in his hopes ; for, if there was
ever a devoted wife, or a tender and grateful husband, they
were to be found in the home which this union made happy.'
3 D
50 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
As he said in a letter long afterwards, " Contrary to the asser-
tion of La Bruyere, who somewhere says, that the most
fortunate husband finds reason to regret his condition at least
once in twenty-four hours, I may truly say that I have found
no such day in the quarter of a century that Providence has
spared us to each other." And so it continued to the last. I
am sure that none who knew them will think me mistaken.
The lady was Susan, daughter of Thomas C. Amory, Esq., a
successful and cultivated merchant, who died in 1812, and of
Hannah Linzee, his wife, who survived him, enjoying the great
happiness of her child, until 1845.
In the summer of 1819 I returned from Europe, after an
absence of more than four years. The first friends who wel-
comed me in my home, on the day of my arrival, were the
Prescott family ; and the first house I visited was theirs, in
which from that day I was always received as if I were of
their kin and blood. William was then in the freshest glow
of a young happiness which it was delightful to witness, and
of which he thought for some months -much more than he did
of anything else. I saw him constantly ; but it was apparent
that, although he read a good deal, or rather listened to a good
deal of reading, he studied very little, or not at all. Real work
was out of the question. He was much too happy for it.
On the evening of the 4th of May, 1820, which was his
twenty-fourth birthday, he was married at the house of Mrs.
Amory, in Franklin Place. It was a wedding with a supper,
in the old-fashioned style, somewhat solemn and stately at first;
many elderly people being of the party, and especially an aged
grandmother of the bride, whose presence enforced something
of formality. But later in the evening our gayety was free
in proportion to the restraints that had previously been laid
upon it. 2
The young couple went immediately to the house of the
Prescott family in Bedford Street, the same house, by a
2 Prescott always liked puns, and made a good many of them, generally
very bad. But one may be recorded. It was apropos of his marriage to Miss
Amory, for which, when he was joked by some of his young bachelor friends
as a deserter from their ranks, he shook his finger at them, and repeated the
adage of Virgil :
" Omnia vlncit Amor, et nos cedamuB Amori."
MARRIES. 51
pleasant coincidence, in which Miss Linzee, the mother of the
bride, had been married to Mr. Amory five and twenty years
before ; and there they lived as long as that ample and com-
fortable old mansion stood. 3
Another coincidence connected with this marriage should be
added, although it was certainly one that augured little of the
happiness that followed. The grandfathers of Mr. Prescott
and Miss Amory had been engaged on opposite sides during
the war for American Independence, and even on opposite
sides in the same fight ; Colonel Prescott having commanded
on Bunker Hill, while Captain Linzee, of the sloop-of-war
Falcon, cannonaded him and his redoubt from the waters of
Charles River, where the Falcon was moored during the whole
of the battle. The swords that had been worn by the soldier
and the sailor on that memorable day came down as heirlooms
in their respective families, until at last they met in the library
of the man of letters, where, quietly crossed above his books,
they often excited the notice alike of strangers and of friends.
After his death they were transferred, as he had desired, to
the Historical Society of Massachusetts, on whose walls they
have become the memorials at once of a hard-fought field and
of " victories no less renowned than those of war." A more
appropriate resting-place for them could not have been found.
And there, we trust, they may rest in peace so long as the two
nations shall exist, trophies, indeed, of the past, but warn-
ings for the future. 4
At the time of his marriage my friend was one of the finest-
looking men I have ever seen ; or, if this should be deemed in
some respects a strong expression, I shall be fully justified, by
those who remember him at that period, in saying that he was
one of the most attractive. He was tall, well formed, manly
in his bearing but gentle, with light-brown hair that was hardly
changed or diminished by years, with a clear complexion and
a ruddy flush on his cheek that kept for him to the last an ap-
pearance of comparative youth, but, above all, with a smile
that was the most absolutely contagious I ever looked upon.
8 It was pulled down in 1845, and we all sorrowed for it, and for the ven-
erable trees by which it was surrounded.
* See Appendix B.
52 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
As lie grew older, he stooped a little. His father's figure was
bent at even an earlier age, but it was from an organic in-
firmity of the chest, unknown to the constitution of the son, who
stooped chiefly from a downward inclination which he instinc-
tively gave to his head so as to protect his eye from the light.
But his manly character and air were always, to a remarkable
degree, the same. Even in the last months of his life, when
he was in some other respects not a little changed, he appeared
at least ten years younger than he really was. And as for the
gracious, sunny smile that seemed to grow sweeter as he grew
older, it was not entirely obliterated even by the touch of
death. Indeed, take him for all in all, I think no man ever
walked our streets, as he did day by day, that attracted such
regard and good-will from so many ; for, however few he might
know, there were very many that knew him, and watched him
with unspoken welcomes as he passed along.
A little before his marriage he had, with a few friends
nearly of his own age and of similar tastes, instituted a club
for purposes both social and literary. Their earliest informal
gathering was in June, 1818. On the first evening they num-
bered nine, and on the second, twelve. Soon, the number was
still further enlarged ; but only twenty-four were at any time
brought within its circle ; and of these, after an interval of
above forty years, eleven still survive (1862). 5
6 The names of the members of this genial, scholarlike little club were,
Alexander Bliss, William Powell Mason,
*John Brazer, John Gorham Palfrey,
*George Augustus Frederic Dawson, Theophilus Parsons,
*Franklin Dexter, Octavius Pickering,
*Samuel Atkins Eliot, *William Hickling Prescott,
* William Havard Eliot, Jared Sparks,
Charles Folsom, * William Jones Spooner,
William Howard Gardiner, ^Jonathan Mayhew Wainwright,
John Chipman Gray, John Ware,
*Francis William Pitt Greenwood, Henry Warren,
*Enoch Hale, *Martin Whiting,
Charles Greely Loring, *Francis William Winthrop.
Those marked with an asterisk are dead ; but it may be worth notice that,
although several of the most promising members of the club died so young
that the time for their distinction never came, more than half of the whole
number have been known as authors, no one of whom has failed to do
predit to the association in which his youth, in part at least, was trained.
HIS CLUB. 53
Prescott, from his happy, social nature, as well as from his
love of letters, was eminently fitted to be one of the members
of such a club, and rarely failed to be present at its meetings,
which he always enjoyed. In their earliest days, after the
fashion of such youthful societies, they read papers of their
own composition, and amused themselves by criticising one
another, and sometimes their neighbors. As a natural conse-
quence of such intercourse, it was not long before they began
to think that a part, at least, of what they had written was too
good to be confined to their own meetings ; and chiefly, I
believe, under Prescott's leading, they determined to institute
a periodical, or rather fl work which should appear at uncer-
tain intervals, and be as little subject to rules and restrictions
of any sort as their own gay meetings were. At any rate, if
he were not the first to suggest the project, he was the most
earnest in promoting it after it was started, and was naturally
enough, both from his leisure and his tastes, made editor.
It was called " The Club-Room," and the first number was
published February 5th, 1820. But its life, though it seems to
have been a merry one, was short ; for the fourth and last
number appeared on the 19th of July of the same year. Nor
was there any especial reason to lament its fate as untimely.
It was not better than the average of such publications, perhaps
not so good. Prescott, I think, brought but three contributions
to it. The first is the leading article in the second number,
and gives, not without humor, an account of the way in which
the first number had been received when it was ushered into a
busy, bustling world, too careless of such claims to its notice.
The others were tales ; one of which, entitled " The Vale of
Alleriot," was more sentimental than he would have liked later ;
and one, " Calais," was a story which Allston, our great artist,
used to tell with striking effect. Neither of them had anything
characteristic of what afterwards distinguished their author, and
neither could be expected to add much to the popular success
of such a publication. The best of the contributions to it were,
I think, three by Mr. Franklin Dexter, his brother-in-law ; two
entitled " Recollections," and the other, " The Ruins of Rome " ; 6
the very last being, in fact, a humorous anticipation of the mean
6 Seem notice of him in the account of the Prescott Family, Appendix (A).
54 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
and miserable appearance Boston would make, if its chief edi-
fices should crumble away, and become what those of the mis-
tress of the ancient world are now. "And here ended this
precious publication," as its editor, apparently with a slight
feeling of vexation, recorded its failure. Nq that he could be
much mortified at its fate ; for, if it was nothing else, it was an
undertaking creditable to the young men who engaged in it so
as to accustom themselves to write for the public, and it had,
besides, not only enlivened their evenings, but raised the tone
of their intercourse with each other. 7
When the last number of " The Club-Room " appeared, its
editor had been married two months. The world was before
him. Not only was his decision made to give up the law as a
profession, but he had become aware that he must find some
other serious occupation to take its place ; for he was one of those
who early discover that labor is the condition of happiness,
and even of content, in this world. His selection of a pursuit,
however, was not suddenly made. It could not be. Many
circumstances in relation to it were to be weighed, and he
7 I cannot refuse my readers or myself the pleasure of inserting here a
faithful account of Prescott's relations to this club, given to me by one of its
original founders and constant supporters, in some sketches already referred
to; I mean his friend Mr. William -H. Gardiner.
" The club formed in 1818, for literary and social objects combined, at first
a supper and afterwards a dinner club, was, to the end of our friend's days,"
a period of more than forty years, a source of high enjoyment to him.
It came to be a peculiar association, because composed of men of nearly the
same age, who grew up together in those habits of easy, familiar intercourse
which can hardly exist except where the foundations are laid in very young
days. He was, from the first, a leading spirit there, latterly quite the life
and soul of the little company, and an object of particular affection as well
as pride. He was always distinguished there by some particular sobriquet.
At first we used to call him ' the gentleman,' from the circumstance of his
being the only member who had neither profession nor ostensible pursuit.
For many years he was called ' the editor,' from his having assumed to edit,
in its day, the little magazine that has been mentioned, called ' The Club-
Koom.' Finally, he won the more distinguished title of ' the historian,' and
was often so addressed in the familiar talk of the club. It comprised several
of Mr. Prescott's most intimate personal friends. The most perfect freedom
prevailed there. All sorts of subjects took their turn of discussion. So that,
were it possible to recall particulars of his conversations at these meetings,
extending through two thirds of his whole life, the reader would gain a very
perfect idea of him as a social man. But the r* a Trrepoez/ra are too fleeting
for reproduction; and even their spirit and effect can hardly be gathered
from mere general descriptions." %
DETERMINES ON A LIFE OF LETTERS. 55
had many misgivings, and hesitated long. But his tastes and
employments had always tended in one direction, and therefore,
although the decision might be delayed, the result was all but
inevitable. He chose a life of literary occupation ; and it was
well that he chose it so deliberately, for he had time, before
he entered on its more serious labors, to make an estimate of the
difficulties that he must encounter in the long path stretched out
before him.
In this way he became fully aware, that, owing to the in-
firmity under which he had now suffered during more than
six of the most important years of his life, he had much to do
before he could hope even to begin a career that should end
with such success as is worth striving for. In many respects,
the very foundations were to be laid, and his first thought
was that they should be laid deep and sure. He had never
neglected his classical studies, and now he gave himself afresh
to them during a fixed portion of each day. But his more
considerable deficiencies were in all modern literature. Of
the English he had probably read as much as most persons
of his age and condition, or rather it had been read to him ;
but this had been chiefly for his amusement in hours of pain
and darkness, not as a matter of study, and much less upon
a regular system. French he had spoken a little, though not
well, while he was in France and Italy ; but he knew almost
nothing of French literature. And of Italian and Spanish,
though he had learnt something as a school-boy, it had been
in a thoughtless and careless way, and, after the injury to his
sight, both of them had been neglected. The whole, therefore,
was not to be relied upon ; and most young men at the age of
four or five and twenty would have been disheartened at the
prospect of attempting to recover so much lost ground, and to
make up for so many opportunities that had gone by never to
return. When to this is added the peculiar discouragement
that seemed almost to shut out knowledge by its main entrance,
it would have been no matter of reproach to his courage or his
manhood, if he had turned away from the undertaking as one
beyond his strength.
But it is evident that he only addressed himself to his task
with the more earnestness and resolution. He began, I think
56 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
wisely, with the English, being willing to go back to the very
elements, and on the 30th of October, 1821, made a memoran-
dum that he would undertake "a course of studies" involving
" 1. Principles of grammar, correct writing, &c. ;
" 2. Compendious history of JSTorth America ;
"3. Fine prose-writers of English from Roger Ascham to
the present day, principally with reference to their mode of
writing, not including historians, except as far as requisite
for an acquaintance with style ;
" 4. Latin classics one hour a day."
The American history he did not immediately touch ; but
on the rest he entered at once, and carried out his plan vigor-
ously. He studied, as if he had been a school-boy, Blair's
Rhetoric, Lindley Murray's Grammar, and the prefatory mat-
ter to Johnson's Dictionary, for the grammatical portion of his
task ; and then he took up the series of good English writers,
beginning with Ascham, Sir Philip Sidney, Bacon, Browne,
Raleigh, and Milton, and coming down to our own times,
not often reading the whole of any one author, but enough of
each to obtain, what he more especially sought, an idea of his
style and general characteristics. Occasionally he noted down
his opinion of them, not always such an opinion as he would
have justified or entertained later in life, but always such as
showed a spirit of observation and a purpose of improvement.
Thus, under the date of November, 1821, he says :
" Finished Roger Ascham's Schoolmaster/ Style vigorous and pol-
ished, and even euphonious, considering the period ; his language often
ungrammatical, inelegant, and with the Latin idiom. He was one of the
first who were bold and wise enough to write English prose. He dislikes
rhyme, and thinks iamhics the proper quantity for English verse. Hence
blank verse. He was a critical scholar, but too fastidious.
" Milton, ' Reasons of Church Government.' Style vigorous, figurative
to conceit ; a rich and sublime imagination ; often coarse, harsh ; constant
use of Latin idiom ; inversion. He is very bold, confident in his own
talent, with close, unrelenting argument ; upon the whole, giving the reader
a higher idea of his sturdy principle than of his affections."
In this way he continued nearly a year occupying himself
with the good English prose-writers, and, among the rest, with
the great preachers, Taylor, Tillotson, and Barrow, but not
stopping until he had come down to Jeffrey and Gifford, whom
FRENCH STUDIES. 57
he marked as the leading critics of our period. But during
all this time, he gave his daily hour to the principal Latin
classics, especially Tacitus, Livy, and Cicero ; taking care, as
he says, to " observe their characteristic physiognomies, not
style and manner as much as sentiments, &c."
Having finished this course, he turned next to the French,
going, as he intimates, " deeper and wider," because his purpose
was not, as in the Latin, to strengthen his knowledge, but to
form an acquaintance with the whole of French literature,
properly so called. He went back, therefore, as far as Frois-
sart, and did not stop until he had come down to Chateaubriand.
It was a good deal of it read by himself in the forenoons, thus
saving much time ; for in 1822 - 1823, except when occasional
inflammation occurred, his eye was in a condition to do him
more service than it had done him for many years, and he hus-
banded its resources so patiently, and with so much care, that
he rarely lost anything by imprudence.
But French literature did not satisfy him as English had
done. He found it less rich, vigorous, and original. He,
indeed, enjoyed Montaigne, and admired Pascal, whom he
preferred to Bossuet or to Fenelon, partly, I think, for the same
reasons that led him to prefer Comeille to Racine. But La-
fontaine and Moliere stood quite by themselves in his estima-
tion, although in some respects, and especially in the delineation
of a particular humor or folly, he placed Ben Jonson before
the great French dramatist. The 'forms of French poetry, and
the rigorous system of rhymes enforced in its tragedies, were
more than commonly distasteful to him.
While, however, he was thus occupied with French litera-
ture as a matter of serious study during parts of 1822 and 1823,
he listened to a good deal of history read to him in a miscel-
laneous way for his amusement, and went through a somewhat
complete course of the old English drama from Heywood to
Dryden, accompanying it with the corresponding portions of
August Wilhelm Schlegel's Lectures, which he greatly relished.
During the same period, too, we read together, at my house,
three or four afternoons in each week, the Northern Antiqui-
ties, published by "Weber, Jamieson, and Scott, in 1815 ; a good
many of the old national romances in Ritson and Ellis, Sir
3*
58 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
Tristrem, Percy's Reliques, and portions of other similar col-
lections, all relating either to the very earliest English lit-
erature or to its connection with the Scandinavian and the Teu-
tonic. It was his first adventure in this direction, and he
enjoyed it not a little, the more, perhaps, because he was
then going on with the French, in which he took less interest.
In the autumn of 1823, following out the same general
purpose to which he had now devoted two years, he began
the Italian. At first he only read such books as would soonest
make him familiar with the language, and so much of Sis-
mondi's " Litterature du Midi ' as would give him an outline
of the whole field. Afterwards he took Ginguene and some-
times Tiraboschi for his guide, and went over an extraordinary
amount of poetry, rather than prose, from Dante, and even from
the " Poeti del Primo Secolo," to Metastasio, Alfieri, and Monti.
It seems quite* surprising how much he got through with, and it
would be almost incredible, if his notes on it were not full and
decisive. He wrote, in fact, more upon Italian literature than
he had written upon either the English or the French, and it
made apparently a much deeper impression upon him than the
last. At different times he even thought of devoting a large
part of his life to its study ; and, excepting what he has done
in relation to Spanish history, nothing of all he has published
is so matured and satisfactory as two articles in the " North-
American Review " : one on Italian Narrative Poetry, pub-
lished in October, 1824, and another on Italian Poetry and
Romance, published in July, 1831, both to be noticed hereafter.
With what spirit and in what tone he carried on at this time
the studies which produced an effect so permanent on his literary
tastes and character will be better shown by the following famil-
iar notes than by anything more formal :
TO MR. TICKNOR.
Tuesday Morning, 8 o'clock, Dec. 15, 1823.
DEAR GEORGE,
I am afraid you will think my study too much like the lion's den ; tho
footsteps never turn outwards. I want to borrow more books ; viz. one
volume of ancient Italian poetry ; I should like one containing specimens
of Cino da Pistoia, as I suspect he was the best versifier in Petrarch's
tune ; also Ginguene ; also, some translation of Dante.
PETRARCH AND LAURA. 59
I spoke very rashly of Petrarch the other day. I had only read the
first volume, which, though containing some of his best is on the whole,
much less moving and powerful than Part II. It is a good way to read
him chronologically ; that is, to take up each sonnet and canzone in the
order, and understanding the peculiar circumstances, in which it was writ-
ten. Ginguene has pointed out this course.
On the Avhole, I have never read a foreign poet that possessed more of
the spirit of the best English poetry. In two respects this is very striking
in Petrarch ; the tender passion with which he associates every place in
the country, the beautiful scenery about Avignon, with the recollections of
Laura ; and, secondly, the moral influence which his love for her seems to
have had upon his character, and which shows itself in the religious senti-
ment that pervades more or less all his verses.
How any one could ever doubt her existence who has read Petrarch's
poetry, is a matter of astonishment to me. Setting aside external evi-
dence, which seems to me conclusive enough, his poetry could not have
been addressed to an imaginary object ; and one fact, the particular delight
which he takes in the belief that she retains in heaven, and that he shall
eee her there, with the same countenance, complexion, bodily appearance,
&c., that she had on earth, is so natural in a real lover, and would be so
unlikely to press itself upon a fictitious one, that I think that it is worth no-
ticing, as affording strong internal evidence of her substantial existence. I
believe, however, that it is admitted generally now, from facts respecting
his family brought to light by the Abbe de Sade, a descendant of her
house.
The richness and perfection of the Italian in the hands of Petrarch is
truly wonderful. After getting over the difficulty of some of his mystical
nonsense, and reading a canzone two or three times, he impresses one very
much ; and the varied measures of the canzone put the facility and melody
of verse-making to the strongest test. Gravina says, there are not two
words in Petrarch's verses obsolete. Voltaire, I remember, says the same
thing of the "Provincial Letters," written three hundred years later.
Where is the work we can put our finger on in our own tongue before the
eighteenth century and then say the same ? Yet from long before Eliza-
beth's time there were no invasions or immigrations to new-mould the
language.
I hope you are all well under this awful dispensation oj snow. I have
shovelled a stout path this morning, and can report it more than a foot
deep. A fine evening for the party at , and I dine at ; so I get
a morning and a half. Give my condolence to Anna, whom I hope to
meet this evening, if the baby is well and we should not be buried alive in
the course of the day.
Yours affectionately,
WM. H. PKESCOTT.
Being also shut up in the house by the snow-storm referred
to, I answered him the same day with a long note entering into
the question of the real existence of Laura, and the following
rejoinder came the next day close upon the heel of my reply.
60 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
TO MR. TICKNOE.
Bedford Street, Dec. 17, 1823.
DEAR GEORGE,
I think better of snow-storms than I ever did before ; since, though
they keep a man's body in the house, they bring his mind out. I suppose,
if it had been fair weather yesterday, I should not have had your little dis-
sertation upon Madonna Laura, which interested as well as amused me.
As to the question of the real existence of Madonna, I can have but little
to say One thing seems to me clear, that the onus probandi is
with those who would deny the substantiality of Laura ; because she is
addressed as a living person by Petrarch, and because no contemporary
unequivocally states her to have been an ideal one. I say unequivocally,
because the remark you refer to of one of the Colonna family seems to
have been rather an intimation or a gratuitous supposition, which might well
come from one who lived at a distance from the scene of attachment, amour,
or whatever you call this Platonic passion of Petrarch's. The Idealists,
however, to borrow a metaphysical term, would shift this burden of proof
upon their adversaries. On this ground I agree with you, that internal
evidence derived from poetry, whose essence, as you truly say, is fiction,
is liable to great misinterpretation. Yet I think that, although a novel or
a long poem may be written, addressed to, and descriptive of some imag-
inary goddess, &c. (I take it, there is not much doubt of Beatrice, or of the
original of Fiammetta), yet that a long series of separate poems should
have been written with great passion, under different circumstances, through
a long course of years, from the warm period of boyhood to the cool ret-
rospective season of gray hairs, would, I think, be, in the highest degree,
improbable. But when with this you connect one or two external facts,
e. g. the very memorandum, to which you refer, written in l\is private
manuscript of Virgil, intended only for himself, as he expressly says in it,
with such solemn, unequivocal language as this : " In order to preserve
the melancholy recollections of this loss, I find a certain satisfaction min-
gled with my sorrow in noting this in a volume which often falls under my
eye, and which thus tells me there is nothing further to delight me in this
life, that my strongest tie is broken," &c., &c. Again, in a treatise " De
Contemptu Mundi," a sort of confession in which he seems to have had a
sober communion with his own heart, as I infer from Ginguene, he speaks
of his passion for Laura in a very unambiguous manner. These notes or
memoranda, intended only for his own eye, would, I think, in any court
of justice be admitted as positive evidence of the truth of what they assert.
I should be willing to rest the point at issue on these two facts.
Opening his poetry, one thing struck me in support of his sincerity, in
seeing a sonnet, which begins with the name of the friend we refer to.
" Rotta e 1' alta Colonna e '1 verde Lauro."
Vile puns, but he would hardly have mingled the sincere elegy of a friend
with that of a fictitious creation of his own brain. This, I admit, is not
safe to build upon, and I do not build upon it. I agree that it may be
highly probable that investigators, Italian, French, and English, have
feigned more than they found, have gone into details, where only a few
DANTE. 61
general facts could be hoped for ; but the general basis, the real existence
of some woman named Laura, who influenced the heart, the conduct, the
intellectual character, of Petrarch, is, I think, not to be resisted. And I
believe your decision does not materially differ from this.
I return the " Poeti del Primo Secolo." Though prosaic, they are
superior to what I imagined, and give me a much higher notion of the
general state of the Italian tongue at that early period than I had imagined
it was entitled to. It is not more obsolete than the French in the time of
Marot, or the English in the time of Spenser. Petrarch, however, you
easily see, infused into it a warmth and richness a splendor of poetical
idiom which has been taken up and incorporated with the language of
succeeding poets. But he is the most musical, most melancholy, of all.
Sismondi quotes Malaspina, a Florentine historian, as writing in 1280,
with all the purity and elegance of modern Tuscan. But I think you
must say, Sat prata biberunt. I have poured forth enough, I think, con-
sidering how little I know of the controversy.
I have got a long morning again, as I dine late. So, if you will let me
have " Gary/' 8 I think it may assist me in some very knotty passages,
though I am afraid it is too fine [print] to read much.
Give my love to Anna, who, I hope, is none the worse for last night's
frolicking.
Yours affectionately,
W. H. PRESCOTT.
He soon finished Dante, and of the effect produced on him
by that marvellous genius, at once so colossal and so gentle, the
following note will give some idea. It should be added, that
the impression thus made was never lost. He never ceased to
talk of Dante in the same tone of admiration in which he
thus broke forth on the first study of him, a noteworthy
circumstance, because, owing to the imperfect vision that so
crippled and curtailed his studies, he was never afterwards able
to refresh his first impressions, except, as he did it from time
to time, by reading a few favorite passages, or listening to
them. 9
TO ME. TICKNOB.
Jan. 21, 1824.
DEAR GEORGE,
I shall be obliged to you if you will let me have the " Arcadia " of San-
nazaro, the " Pastor Fido," and the " Aminta," together with the vol-
umes of Ginguene, containing the criticism of these poems.
I have finished the Paradise of Dante, and feel as if I had made a most
8 Translation of Dante.
9 We, however, both listened to the reading of Dante, by an accomplished
Italian, a few months later; but this I consider little more than a part of the
game study of the altissimo poeta.
62 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
important addition to the small store of my acquisitions. To have read
the Inferno, is not to have read Dante ; his genius shows itself under so
very different an aspect in each of his three poems. The Inferno will
always be the most popular, because it is the most indeed the only one
that is at all entertaining. Human nature is so delightfully constituted,
that it can never derive half the pleasure from any relation of happiness
that it does from one of misery and extreme suffering. Then there is a
great deal of narrative, of action in the Inferno, and very little in the two
other parts. Notwithstanding all this, I think the impression produced on
the mind of the reader by the two latter portions of the work much the
most pleasing. You impute a finer, a more exquisite (I do not mean a
more powerful), intellectual character to the poet, and, to my notion, a
character more deeply touched with a true poetical feeling.
The Inferno consists of a series of pictures of the most ingenious, the
most acute, and sometimes the most disgusting bodily sufferings. I could
wish that Dante had made more use of the mind as a source and a means
of anguish. Once he has done it with beautiful effect, in the description
of a Barattiere, I believe, 10 who compares his miserable state in hell with
his pleasant residence on the banks of the Arno, and draws additional an-
guish from the comparison. In general, the sufferings he inflicts are of a
purely physical nature. His devils and bad spirits, with one or two excep-
tions, which I remember you pointed out, are much inferior in moral
grandeur to Milton's. How inferior that stupendous overgrown Satan of his
to the sublime spirit of Milton, not yet stript of all its original brightness.
I must say that I turn with more delight to the faultless tale of Francesca da
Polenta, than to that of Ugolino, or any other in the poem. Perhaps it is
in part from its being in such a dark setting, that it seems so exquisite, by
contrast. The long talks in the Purgatorio and the dismal disputations in
the Paradiso certainly lie very heavy on these parts of the work ; but then
this very inaction brings out some of the most conspicuous beauties in
Dante's composition.
In the Purgatorio, we have, in the first ten cantos, the most delicious
descriptions of natural scenery, and we feel like one who has escaped from
a dungeon into a rich and beautiful country. In the latter portions of it
he often indulges in a noble tone of moral reflection. I look upon the
Purgatorio, full of sober meditation and sweet description, as more a
I'Anglaise than any other part of the Commedia. In the Paradiso his shock-
ing argumentations are now and then enlivened by the pepper and salt of
his political indignation, but at first they both discouraged and disgusted
me, and I thought I should make quick work of the business. But upon
reading further, thinking more of it, I could not help admiring the
genius which be has shown in bearing up under so oppressive a subject.
It is so much easier to describe gradations of pain than of pleasure,
but more especially when this pleasure must be of a purely intellectual
nature. It is like a painter sitting down to paint the soul. The Scrip-
1 My friend says, with some hesitation, " a Barattiere, I believe." It was in
fact a " Falsificatore," a counterfeiter, and not a barrator or peculator.
The barrators are found in the twenty-first canto of the Inferno; but the
beautiful passage here alluded to is in the thirtieth.
DANTE. 63
tures have not done it successfully. They paint the physical tortures of
hell, fire, brimstone, &c., but in heaven the only joys, i. e. animal joys, are
singing and dancing, which to few people convey a notion of high delight,
and to many are positively disagreeable.
Let any one consider how difficult, nay impossible, it is to give an en-
tertaining picture of purely intellectual delight. The two highest kinds
of pure spiritual gratification which, I take it, a man can feel, at least, I
esteem it so, are that arising from the consciousness of a reciprocated
passion (I speak as a lover), and, second, one of a much more philosophic
cast, that arising from the successful exertion of his own understanding (as
in composition, for instance). Now Dante's pleasures in the Paradise are
derived from these sources. Not that he pretends to write books there,
but then he disputes like a doctor upon his own studies, subjects most
interesting to him, but unfortunately to nobody else. It is comical to see
how much he plumes himself upon his successful polemical discussions
with St. John, Peter, &c., and how he makes those good saints praise and
natter him.
As to his passion for Beatrice, I think there is all the internal evidence
of its being a genuine passion, though her early death and probably his
much musing upon her, exaggerated her good qualities into a sort of mys-
tical personification of his own, very unlike the original. His drinking in
all his celestial intelligence from her eyes, though rather a mystical sen-
timentalism, is the most glorious tribute that ever was paid to woman. It
is lucky, on the whole, that she died when she was young, as, had she
lived to marry him, he would very likely have picked a quarrel with her,
and his Divine Comedy have lost a great source of its inspiration.
In all this, however, there was a great want of action, and Dante was
forced, as in the Purgatorio, to give vent to his magnificent imagination in
other ways. He has therefore, made use of all the meagre hints suggested
metaphorically by the Scriptures, and we have the three ingredients, light,
music, and dancing, in every possible and impossible degree and diversity.
The Inferno is a sort of tragedy, full of action and of characters, all well
preserved. The Paradise is a great melodrama, where little is said, but
the chief skill is bestowed upon the machinery, the getting up, and
certainly, there never was such a getting up, anywhere. Every canto
blazes with a new and increased effulgence. The very reading of it by
another pained my poor eyes. And yet, you never become tired with
these gorgeous illustrations, it is the descriptions that fatigue.
Another beauty, in which he indulges more freely in the last than in the
other parts, is his unrivalled similes. I should think you might glean
from the Paradiso at least one hundred all new and appropriate, fitting, as
he says, " like a ring to a finger," and most beautiful. Where are there
any comparisons so beautiful ?
I must say I was disappointed with the last canto ; but then, as the
Irishman said, I expected to be. For what mortal mind could give a por-
trait of the Deity. The most conspicuous quality in Dante, to my notion,
is simplicity. In this I think him superior to any work I ever read, un-
less it be some parts of the Scriptures. Homer's allusions, as far as I
recollect, are not taken from as simple and familiar, yet not vulgar, objects,
as are Dante's, from the most common intimate relations of domestic
64 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
life, for instance, to which Dante often with great sweetness of nature
alludes.
I think it was a fortunate thing for the world, that the first poem
in modern times was founded on a subject growing out of the Christian
religion, or more properly on that religion itself, and that it was written
by a man deeply penetrated with the spirit of its sternest creed. The
religion indeed would have had its influence sooner or later upon literature.
But then a work like Dante's, showing so early the whole extent of its
powers, must have had an incalculable influence over the intellectual
world, an influence upon literature almost as remarkable as that exerted
by the revelation of Christianity upon the moral world.
As to Gary, I think Dante would have given him a place in his ninth
heaven, if he could have foreseen his Translation. It is most astonishing',
giving not only the literal corresponding phrase, but the spirit of the
original, the true Dantesque manner. It should be cited as an evidence of
the compactness, the pliability, the sweetness of the English tongue. It
particularly shows the wealth of the old vocabulary, it is from this that
he has selected his rich stock of expressions. It is a triumph of our
mother tongue that it has given every idea of the most condensed original
in the Italian tongue in a smaller compass in this translation, his can-
tos, as you have no doubt noticed, are five or six lines shorter generally
than Dante's. One defect he has. He does not, indeed he could not,
render the naive terms of his original. This is often noticeable, but it is
the defect of our language, or rather of our use of it. One fault he has,
one that runs through his whole translation, and makes it tedious ; viz.
a too close assimilation to, or rather adoption of, the Italian idiom. This
leads him often to take liberties not allowable in English, to be ungram-
matical, and so elliptical as to be quite unintelligible.
Now I have done, and if you ask me what I have been doing all this
for, or, if I chose to write it, why I did not put it in my Commonplace,
I answer, 1st. That when I began this epistle, I had no idea of being
so lengthy (as we say) ; 2d. That, in all pursuits, it is a great delight to
find a friend to communicate one's meditations and conclusions to, and
that you are the only friend I know in this bustling, money-getting world,
who takes an'interest in my peculiar pursuits, as well as in myself. So,
for this cause, I pour into your unhappy ear what would else have been
decently locked up in my escritoire.
I return you Petrarca, Tasso, Ginguene, Vols. I. - IV., and shall be
obliged to you, in addition to the books first specified, for any translation,
&c., if you have any of those books ; also for an edition if you have
such of the Canterbury Tales, Vol. I., that contains a glossary at the
bottom of each page below the text ; Tyrrwhitt's being a dictionary.
Give my love to Anna, and believe me, dear George, now and ever,
Yours affectionately,
W. H. PRESCOTT.
Pursuing the Italian in this earnest way for. about a year,
he found that his main purposes in relation to it were accom-
plished, and he would gladly, at once, have begun the German,
GIVES UP GERMAN. 65
of which he knew nothing at all, but which, for a considerable
period, he had deemed more important to the general scholar-
ship at which he then aimed than any other modern language,
and certainly more important than any one of wliich he did not
already feel himself sufficiently master: " I am now," he re-
corded, two years earlier, in the spring of 1822, " twenty-six
years of age nearly. By the time I am thirty, God willing, I
propose, with what stock I have already on hand, to be a very
well read English scholar ; to be acquainted with the classical
and useful authors, prose and poetry, in Latin, French, and
Italian, and especially in history ; I do not mean a critical or
profound acquaintance. The two following years I may hope
to learn German, and to have read the classical German
writers ; and the translations, if my eye continues weak, of
the Greek. And this is enough," he adds quietly, " for general
discipline."
But the German, as he well knew, was much less easy of
acquisition than any of the modern languages to which he had
thus far devoted himself, and its literature much more unman-
ageable, if not more abundant. He was, however, unwilling to
abandon it, as it afforded so many important facilities for the
pursuits to which he intended to give his life. But the infir-
mity of his sight decided this, as it had already decided, and
was destined later to decide, so many other questions in which
he was deeply interested. After much deliberation, therefore,
he gave up the German, as a thing either beyond his reach, or
demanding more time for its acquisition than he could reason-
ably give to it. It seemed, in fact, all but an impossibility to
learn it thoroughly ; the only way in which he cared to learn
anything.
At the outset he was much discouraged by the conclusion to
which he had thus come. The acquisition of the German was,
in fact, the first obstacle to his settled literary course which
his patience and courage had not been able to surmount, and
for a time he became, from this circumstance, less exact and
methodical in his studies than he had previously been. He
recorded late in the autumn of 1824 : " I have read with no
method and very little diligence or spirit for three months."
This he found an unsatisfactory state of things. He talked
66 WILLIAM HICKLKG PKESCOTT.
with me much about it, and seemed, during nearly a year,
more unsettled as to his future course, so far as I can now
recollect, than he had ever seemed to me earlier ; certainly,
more than he ever seemed to me afterwards. Indeed, he was
quite unhappy about it.
CHAPTER VI.
1824-1828.
HE STUDIES SPANISH INSTEAD OF GERMAN. FIRST ATTEMPTS NOT
EARNEST. MABLY'S " ETUDE DE L'HISTOIRE." THINKS OF WRITING
HISTORY. DIFFERENT SUBJECTS SUGGESTED. FERDINAND AND ISA-
BELLA. DOUBTS LONG. WRITES TO MR. A. H. EVERETT. DELAY
FROM SUFFERING IN THE EYE. ORDERS BOOKS FROM SPAIN. PLAN
OF STUDY. HESITATES FROM THE CONDITION OF HIS SIGHT. DE-
TERMINES TO GO ON. His READER, MR. ENGLISH. PROCESS OF
WORK. ESTIMATES AND PLANS.
AN accident as is sometimes the case in the life of even
the most earnest and consistent men had now an in-
fluence on him not at all anticipated by either of us at the
time, and one which, if it ultimately proved a guiding impulse,
became such rather from the force of his own character than
through any movement imparted to him from without.
I had, at this period, been almost exclusively occupied for
two or three years with Spanish literature, and had completed
a course of lectures on Spanish literary history, which I had
delivered to the highest class in Harvard College, and which
became, many years afterwards, the basis of a work on that
subject. Thinking simply to amuse and occupy my friend at
a time when he seemed much to need it, I proposed to read
him these lectures in the autumn of 1824. For this purpose
he came to my house in the early part of a succession of even-
ings, until the whole was completed ; and in November he
determined, as a substitute for the German, to undertake the
Spanish, which had not previously constituted any part of his
plan of study. 1
He made his arrangements for it at once, and we prepared
together a list of books that he should read. It was a great
1 He speaks of this in February, 1841, writing to Don Pascual de Gayangos,
one of our mutual Spanish friends ; when, referring back to the year 1824, he
says, " I heard Mr. Ticknor's lectures then with great pleasure."
68 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESOOTT.
and unexpected pleasure to me to find him launched on a
course of study in which I had long been interested, and I
certainly encouraged him in it as much 'as I could without
being too selfish.
Soon after this, however, I left home with my family, and
was absent during the greater part of the winter. My house
was, of course, shut up, except that servants were left in charge
of it ; but it had been understood between us, that, as he had
no Spanish books of his own, he should carry on his Spanish
studies from the resources he would find in my library. On
the 1st of December he began a regular drill in the language,
with a teacher, and on the same day, by way of announcing it,
wrote to me :
" Your mansion looks gloomy enough, I promise you, and as I pass it
sometimes in the evening, with no cheerful light within to relieve it, it
frowns doubly dismal on me. As to the interior, I have not set my foot
within its precincts since your departure, which, you will think, does not
augur well for the Spanish. I propose, however, intruding upon the
silence of the illustrious dead the latter part of this week, in order to
carry off the immortal remains of Don Antonio de Soils, whom you, dear
George, recommended me to begin with."
This was the opening of the Spanish campaign, which ended
only with his life ; and it is worth noting that he was already
more than twenty-eight years old. A few days afterwards he
writes : " I snatch a fraction of the morning from the interest-
ing treatise of Monsieur Josse on the Spanish language, 2 and
from the l Conquista de Mexico,' which, notwithstanding the
time I have been upon it, I am far from having conquered." 8
But he soon became earnest in his work. On the 24th of
January, 1825, he wrote to me again :
" I have been much bent upon Spanish the last month, and have un-
courteously resisted all invitations to break in upon my course of
reading. I begin to feel my way perceptibly in it now. Did you never,
in learning a language, after groping about in the dark for a long while,
2 Josse", Ele'mens de la Grammaire de la Langue fispagnole.
8 In the early part of his Spanish studies, as he here intimates, he was not
much interested. At Christmas, 1824, he wrote to his friend Mr. Bancroft:
" I am battling with the Spaniards this winter, but I have not the heart for it
that I had for the Italians. I doubt whether there are many valuable things
that the key of knowledge will unlock in that language " ; an amusing pre-
diction, when we consider what followed.
EARLY SPANISH STUDIES. 69
suddenly seem to turn an angle, where the light breaks upon yon all at
once ? The knack seems to have come to me within the last fortnight, in
the same manner as the art of swimming comes to those who have been
splashing about for months in the water in vain Will you have
the goodness to inform me in your next, where I can find some simple
treatise on Spanish versification, also in which part of your library is
the ' Amadis de Gaula.' 4 For I presume, as Cervantes spared it from
the bonfire, you have it among your treasures. I have been accompany-
ing my course with Sismondi and Bouterwek, and I have been led more
than once to reflect upon the injustice you are doing to yourself in seclud-
ing your own manuscript Lectures from the world. Neither of these
writers has gone into the subject as thoroughly as you have," &c., &c. 5
On coming back after my absence, he began to write me
notes in Spanish, borrowing or returning books, and sometimes
giving his opinion about those he sent home. His style was not,
indeed, of the purest Castilian, but it was marked with a clear-
ness and idiomatic vigor which not a little surprised me. Three
of these notes, which he wrote in March and April, 1825, still
survive to give proof of his great industry and success ; and one
of them is curious for opinions about Solis, more severe than he
afterwards entertained when he came to study that historian's
work on the Conquest of Mexico as a part of the materials for
his own. 6
But, during the summer of 1825, his reading was very mis-
cellaneous, and, excepting " Doblado's Letters on Spam," by
Blanco White, no part of it, I think, was connected with his
strictly Spanish studies. In the autumn, however, becoming
much dissatisfied with this unsettled and irregular sort of life,
he began to look round for a subject to which he could give
continuous thought and labor. On the 16th of October he
4 He remembered, no doubt, the boyish pleasure he had found in reading
Southey's rifacimento of it. See ante, p. 10.
6 This, with much more like it in the present letter and in other letters,
which I do not cite, was founded in a mistake, made by his kindness for me.
The Lectures were far from being what .he supposed them to be. They
needed to be entirely recast, before they could be presented to the public
with any decent claims to thoroughness. In fact, " The History of Spanish
Literature" did not appear until a long time afterwards, and then it bore
very few traces of its academic origin.
6 On another occasion, making some remarks about Ercilla's " Araucana,"
he says, in the same spirit, " Both Solis and Ercilla disgust the temperate
reader by the little value they set upon the sufferings of the heathen.* In
this view of the matter I heartily concur with him.
70 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
recorded : " I have been so hesitating and reflecting upon what
I shall do, that I have, in fact, done nothing." And October
30th : " I have passed the last fortnight in examination of a
suitable subject for historical composition. 7 It is well to deter-
mine with caution and accurate inspection."
At first his thoughts were turned towards American history,
on which he had bestowed a good deal of rather idle time dur-
ing the preceding months, and to which he now gave more. 8
But Spanish literature began, unexpectedly to him, to have
stronger attractions. He read, or rather listened to, the whole
of Mariana's beautiful history, giving careful attention to some
parts of it, and passing lightly over the rest. And in connec-
tion with this, as his mind became more directed to such sub-
jects, he listened with great interest to Mably's "Etude de
1'Histoire," a work which had much influence in giving its
final direction to his life, and which he always valued both for
its acuteness and for its power of setting the reader to think
for himself. The result was that, at Christmas, after no little
reflection and anxiety, he made the following memorandum :
'"I have been hesitating between two topics for historical investiga-
tion, Spanish history from the invasion of the Arabs to the consolidation
of the monarchy under Charles V., or a history of the revolution of
ancient Rome, which converted the republic into a monarchy. A third
subject which invites me is a biographical sketch of eminent geniuses,
with criticisms on their productions and on the character of their times.
I shall probably select the first, as less difficult of execution than the
second, and as more novel and entertaining than the last. But I must
7 As early as 1820, 1 find that he had been greatly impressed by reading
Gibbon's Autobiography with Lord Sheffield's additions, a book which he
always regarded with peculiar interest, and which doubtless had its influence
in originally determining him to venture on historical composition. In one
of his letters written in 1845, he says, he finds memoranda of a tendency to
historical studies as early as 1819.
8 Two or three years earlier than this "date probably in 1822 I find
the following among his private memoranda: "History has always been
a favorite study with me; and I have long looked forward to it, as a subject
on which I was one day to exercise my pen. It is not rash, in the dearth of
well-written American history, to entertain the hope of throwing light upon
this matter. This is my hope. But it requires time, and a long time, before
the mind can be prepared for this department of writing." He took time, as
we shall see, for it was seven years, at least, after this passage was written,
before he began the composition of his Ferdinand and Isabella. " I think,"
he says, " thirty-five years of age full soon enough to put pen to paper." As
it turned out, he began in earnest a little before he had reached thirty-four.
THINKS OF ITALIAN AND SPANISH SUBJECTS. 71
discipline my idle fancy, or my meditations will be little better than
dreams. I have devoted more than four hours per diem to thinking or
dreaming on these subjects/'
But this delay was no matter of serious regret to him. He
always deliberated long before he undertook anything of conse-
quence, and, in regard to his examination of this very matter,
he had already recorded : " I care not how long a time I take
for it, provided I am diligent in all that time."
He was a little distracted, however, at this period, by the
thought of writing something like a history or general examina-
tion of Italian literature. As we have noticed, he had in 1823
been much occupied with the principal Italian authors, and had
found the study more interesting than any he had previously
pursued in modern literature. A little later that is, in the
autumn of 1824 and the spring of 1825 an accomplished
Italian exile was in Boston, and, partly to give him occupation,
and partly for the pleasure and improvement to be obtained
from it, I invited the unfortunate scholar to come three or four
times a week, and read aloud to me from the principal poets
of his country. Prescott joined me in it regularly, and some-
times we had one or two friends with us. In this way we went
over large portions of the " Divina Commedia," and the whole
of the " Gerusalemme Liberata," parts of Ariosto's " Orlando
Furioso," and several plays of Alfieri. The sittings were very
agreeable, sometimes protracted to two or three hours, and we
not only had earnest and amusing, if not always very profit-
able, discussions about what we heard, but sometimes we fol-
lowed them up afterwards with careful inquiries. The pleasure
of the meetings, however, was their great attraction. The
Italian scholar read well, and we enjoyed it very much. In
consequence of this, Prescott now turned again to his Italian
studies, and made the following record :
" I have decided to abandon the Roman subject. A work on the revo-
lutions of Italian literature has invited my consideration this week, a
work which, without giving a chronological and minute analysis of
authors, should exhibit in masses the most important periods, revolutions,
and characters in the history of Italian letters. The subject would admit
of contraction or expansion ad libitum; and I should be spared what I
detest hunting up latent, barren antiquities."
The last remark is noteworthy, because it is one of the many
72 WILLIAM HICKLLNG PRESCOTT.
instances In which, after severe consideration, he schooled him-
self to do well and thoroughly what he much disliked to do,
and what was in itself difficult.
But on the same occasion he wrote further :
" The subject would require a mass of [general] knowledge and a criti-
cal knowledge of the Italian in particular. It would not be new, after
the production of Sismondi and the abundant notices in modern Reviews.
Literary history is not so amusing as civil. Cannot I contrive to em-
brace the gift of the Spanish subject, without involving myself in the
unwieldy, barbarous records of a thousand years ? What new and in-
teresting topics may be admitted not forced into the reigns of Fer-
dinand and Isabella ? Can I not indulge in a retrospective picture of the
Constitutions of Castile and Aragon, of the Moorish dynasties, and the
causes of their decay and dissolution ? Then I have the Inquisition,
with its bloody persecutions ; the Conquest of Granada, a brilliant pas-
sage ; the exploits of the Great Captain in Italy, a proper character for
romance as well as history ; the discovery of a new world, my own coun-
try ; the new policy of the monarchs towards the overgrown aristocracy,
&c., &c. A Biography will make me responsible for a limited space only ;
will require much less reading (a great consideration with me) ; will offer
the deeper interest which always attaches to minute developments of
character, and a continuous, closely connected narrative. The subject
brings me to the point whence [modern] English history has started, is
untried ground, and in my opinion a rich one. The age of Ferdinand is
most important, as containing the germs of the modern system of Euro-
pean politics ; and the three sovereigns, Henry VII., Louis XL, and
Ferdinand, were important engines in overturning the old system. It
is in every respect an interesting and momentous period of history ; the
materials authentic, ample. I will chew upon this matter, and decide
this week."
In May, 1847, above twenty years afterwards, he noted in
pencil on this passage, " This was the first germ of my concep-
tion of Ferdinand and Isabella."
But he did not, as he hoped he should, decide in a week,
although, having- advanced well towards a decision, he soon
began to act as if it were already made. On the 15th of Jan-
uary, 1826, when the week had expired, he recorded :
" Still doubting, looked through Hita's ' Guerras de Granada/ Vol. I.
The Italian subject has some advantages over the Spanish. It will save
me at least one year's introductory labor. It is in the regular course of
my studies, and I am comparatively at home in literary history, particu-
larly the Italian. This subject has not only exercised my studies, but my
meditations, so that I may fairly estimate my starting ground at one year.
Then I have tried this topic in public journals, and know the measure of
my own strength in relation to it. I am quite doubtful of my capacity
LETTER TO A. H. EVERETT. 73
for doing justice to the other subject. I have never exercised my mind
upon similar matters, and I have stored it with no materials for compari-
son. How can I pronounce upon the defects or virtues of the Spanish
constitutions, when I am hardly acquainted with those of other nations ?
How can I estimate the consequences, moral, political, &c., of laws and
institutions, when I have, in all my life, scarcely ever looked the subject
in the face, or even read the most elementary treatise upon it ? But will
not a year's labor, judiciously directed, put me on another footing ? "
After some further discussion in the nature of a soliloquy, he
adds :
" I believe the Spanish subject will be more new than the Italian ;
more interesting to the majority of readers ; more useful to me by open-
ing another and more practical department of study ; and not more labo-
rious in relation to authorities to be consulted, and not more difficult to be
discussed with the lights already afforded me by judicious treatises on the
most intricate parts of the subject, and with the allowance of the introduc-
tory year for my novitiate in a new walk of letters. The advantages of
the Spanish topic, on the whole, overbalance the inconvenience of the
requisite preliminary year. For these reasons, I subscribe to the History
of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, January 19th, 1826."
And then 9110 ws in pencil, "A fortunate choice, May,
1847."
He therefore began in earnest, and, on the 22d of January,
prepared a list of books such as he should require, and wrote a
long letter to Mr. Alexander H. Everett, then our Minister at
Madrid, an accomplished scholar himself, and one who was
always interested in whatever regarded the cause of letters.
They had already be$n in correspondence on the subject, and
Mr. Everett had naturally advised his younger friend to come
to Spain, and make for himself the collections he needed, at
the same time offering to serve him in any way he could.
" I entirely agree with you," Prescott replied, " that it would be highly
advantageous for me to visit Spain, and to dive into the arcana of those
libraries which, you say, contain such ample stores of history, and I assure
you, that, as I am situated, no consideration of domestic ease would detain
me a moment from an expedition, which, after all, would not consume more
than four or five months. But the state of my eyes, or rather eye, for
I have the use of only one half of this valuable apparatus, precludes the
possibility of it. During the last year this one has been sadly plagued
with what the physicians are pleased to call a rheumatic inflammation, for
which I am now under treatment I have always found travel-
ling, with its necessary exposures, to be of infinite disservice to my eyes,
and in this state of them particularly I dare not risk it.
" You will ask, with these disadvantages, how I can expert to succeed
4
74 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
in my enterprise. I answer, that I hope always to have a partial use of
my eyes, and, for the rest, an intelligent reader, who is well acquainted
with French, Spanish, and Latin, will enable me to effect with my ears
what other people do with their eyes. The only material inconvenience
will be a necessarily more tedious and prolonged labor. Johnson says, in
his Life of Milton, that no man can compile a history who is blind. But
although I should lose the use of my vision altogether (an evil not in the
least degree probable), by the blessing of God, if my ears are spared me,
I will disprove the assertion, and my chronicle, whatever other demerits it
may have, shall not be wanting in accuracy and research. 9 If my health
continues thus, I shall necessarily be debarred from many of the convivial,
not to say social pleasures of life, and consequently must look to literary
pursuits as the principal and permanent source of future enjoyment. As
with these views I have deliberately taken up this project, and my pro-
gress, since I have begun to break ground, entirely satisfies me of the
feasibility of the undertaking, you will not wonder that I should be ex-
tremely solicitous to bring within my control an ample quantity of original
materials, such as will enable me to achieve my design, and such as will
encourage me to pursue it with steady diligence, without fear of compe-
tition from any quarter."
But his courage and patience were put to a new and severe
trial, before he could even place his foot upon the threshold of
the great undertaking whose difficulties he estimated so justly.
A dozen years later, in May, 1838, when the Ferdinand arid
Isabella was already published, he made a memorandum in
pencil on the letter just cited : " This very letter occasioned the
injury to the nerve from which I have never since recovered."
Precisely what this injury may have been, I do not know.
He calls it at first " a stiffness of the right eye," as if it were a
recurrence there of the rheumatism which was always more or
less in some part of his person ; but a few months afterwards
he speaks of it as "a new disorder." It was, I apprehend,
only the result of an effort too great for the enfeebled organ,
and, whenever any considerable similar exertion during the
9 " To compile a history from various authors, when they can only be con-
sulted by others' eyes, is not easy, nor possible, without more skilful and at-
tentive help than can be commonly obtained; and it was probably the difficulty
of consulting and comparing, that stopped Milton's narrative at the Conquest,
a period at which affairs were not very intricate, nor authors very numer-
ous." Johnson's Works, (London, 1816,) Vol. IX. p. 115. " This remark of
the great critic," says Prescott, in a note to the Preface of Ferdinand and Isa-
bella, (1837,) where it is cited, " This remark, which first engaged my atten-
tion in the midst of my embarrassments, although discouraging at first, in the
end stimulated my desire to overcome them." Nitor in adversum might have
been his motto.
PLAN OF STUDY FOR FERDINAND AND ISABELLA. 75
rest of his life was required from it, he used to describe the
sensation he experienced as " a strain of the nerve." It was,
no doubt, something of the sort on this occasion, and he felt for
a time much discouraged by it.
The letter which it had cost him so much to write, because
he thought it necessary to do it with uncommon care, was left
in his portfolio to wait the result of this fresh and unexpected
attack on the poor resources of his sight. It was a painful
interval. Severe remedies were used. The cuppings then
made on his temples left marks that he carried to his grave.
But in his darkened room, where I constantly saw him, and
sometimes read to him, his spirits never failed. He bated " no
jot of heart or hope."
At last, after above four weary months, which he passed
almost always in a dark room, and during which he made no
record, I find an entry among his memoranda dated " June 4,
1826. A melancholy gap," he says, " occasioned by this new
disorder in the eye. It has, however, so much abated this sum-
mer, that I have sent my orders to Madrid. I trust I may yet
be permitted to go on with my original plan. Wliat I can't
read may be read to me. I will secure what I can of the
foreign tongues, and leave the English to my secretary. When
I can't get six, get four hours per day. I must not waste time
in going too deeply or widely into my subject ; or, rather, I
must confine myself to what exclusively and directly concerns
it. I must abjure manuscript and fine print. I must make
memoranda accurate and brief of every book I read for this
object. Travelling at this lame gait, I may yet hope in five or
six years to reach the goal." In tliis, however, he was mis-
taken. It proved to be twice as much.
As soon as the order for books was despatched, he made his
plan of work. It was as ample and bold as if nothing had oc-
curred to check his hopes.
" My general course of study/' he says, "must be as follows. 1. Gen-
eral Laws, &c. of Nations. 2. History and Constitution of England.
3. History and Government of other European Nations, France, Italy
to 1550, Germany, Portugal. Under the last two divisions, I am partic-
ularly to attend to the period intervening between 1400 and 1550. 4. Gen-
eral History of Spain, its Geography, its Civil, Ecclesiastical, Statistical
Concerns ; particularly from 1400 to 1550. 5, Ferdinand's ^Reign en gros.
76 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
6. Whatever concerns such portions of my subject as I am immediately
to treat of. The general division of it I will arrange when I have gone
through the first five departments.
" This order of study I shall pursue, as far as my eyes will allow. When
they are too feeble to be used, I must have English writers read to me, and
then I will select such works as have the nearest relation to the department
of study which I may be investigating."
Immediately after this general statement of his plan follows
a list of several hundred volumes to be read or consulted,
which would have been enough, one would think, to alarm
the stoutest heart, and severely tax the best eyes. This, indeed,
he sometimes felt to be the case. Circumstances seemed occa-
sionally to be stronger than his strong will. He tried, for
instance, soon after making the last record, to read a little, and,
went at the most moderate rate, through half a volume of
Montesquieu's " Esprit des Lois," which was to be one of the
first stepping-stones to his great fabric. But the trouble in his
eight was so seriously aggravated by even this experiment, very
.cautiously made, that he recorded it as " a warning to desist
from all further use of his eye for the present, if not for ever."
In fact, for three months and more he did not venture to open
a book.
At the end of that time he began to doubt whether, during
the period in which it now seemed all but certain that he
could have no use of his eye, and must often be shut up in a
darkened room, he had not better, without giving up his main
purpose, undertake some other work more manageable than
one that involved the use of books in several foreign languages.
On the 1st of October, therefore, he records, evidently with
great regret :
" As it may probably be some years before I shall be able to use my
own eyes in study, or even find a suitable person to read foreign languages
to me, I have determined to postpone my Spanish subject, and to occupy
myself with an Historical Survey of English Literature. The subject has
never been discussed as a whole, and therefore would be somewhat new,
and, if well conducted, popular. But the great argument with me is, that,
while it is a subject with which my previous studies have made me toler-
ably acquainted and have furnished me with abundance of analogies in
foreign literatures, it is one which I may investigate nearly as well with
my ears as with my eyes, and it will not be difficult to find good renders
in the English, though extremely difficult in any foreign language. Fans-
turn sit."
DIFFICULTIES IN FINDING A READER. 77
A month, however, was sufficient to satisfy him that this
was a mistake, and that the time which, with his ultimate
purpose of writing a large work on Spanish history, he could
afford to give to this intercalary project, could do little with a
subject so broad as English literature. After looking through
Warton's fragment and Turner's Anglo-Saxons, he therefore
writes, November 5th, 1826 :
" I have again, and I trust finally, determined to prosecute my former
subject, the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. In taking a more accurate
survey of my projected English Literary History, I am convinced it will
take at least five years to do anything at all satisfactory to myself, and I
cannot be content to be so long detained from a favorite subject, and one
for which I shall have such rare and valuable materials in my own pos-
session. But what chiefly influences me is the prospect of obtaining some
one, in the space of a year, who, by a competent knowledge of foreign
languages, will enable me to pursue my original design with nearly as
great facility as I should possess for the investigation of English literature.
And I am now fully resolved, that nothing but a disappointment in my
expected supplies from Spain shall prevent me from prosecuting my origi-
nal scheme; where, at any rate, success is more certain, if not more
The difficulty that resulted from the want of a competent
reader was certainly a great one, and he felt it severely. He
talked with me much about it, but for a time there seemed no
remedy. He went, therefore, courageously through several
volumes of Spanish with a person who understood not a word
of what he was reading. It was awkward, tedious work,
more disagreeable to the reader, probably, than it was to the
listener. But neither of them shrunk from the task, which
sometimes, notwithstanding its gravity and importance, seemed
ridiculous to both. 10
At last he was satisfied that his undertaking to write history
was certainly practicable, and that he could substantially make
his ears do the work of his eyes. It was an important conclu-
1 In a letter to me written in the summer of 1827, when I happened to be
on a journey to Niagara, he says : " My excellent reader and present scribe
reads to me Spanish with a true Castilian accent two hours a day, without
understanding a word of it. What do you think of this for the temperature
of the dog-days ? and which should you rather be, the reader or the readee ? "
In a letter ten years later Dec. 20, 1837 to his friend Mr. Bancroft, he
says, that among those readings by a person who did not know the language
were seven quarto volumes in Spanish.
78 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
sion, and its date is, therefore, one of the turning points of his
life. He came to it about the time he prepared the letter to
Mr. Everett, and in consequence provided himself for a few
months with a young reader of more accomplishments, who
subsequently became known in the world of letters, and was
among those who paid a tribute of graceful verse to the histo-
rian's memory. 11
This, however, was only a temporary expedient, and he was
desirous to have something which should be permanent. It
cost not a little time and labor to fit anybody for duties so
peculiar, and he had no time and labor to. spare, especially if
the embarrassment should recur as often as it had heretofore.
Thinking, from my connection with Harvard College, where I
was then at the head of the department of Modern Literature,
that I might be acquainted with some young man who, on
completing his academic career, would be willing to become
his secretary for a considerable period, he addressed himself to
me. I advised with the instructors in the four modern lan-
guages, who knew the especial qualifications of their pupils
better than I did, and a fortunate result was soon reached."
Mr. James L. English, who was then a member of the College,
accepted a proposition to study his profession in the office of
Mr. Prescott, senior, and of his son-in-law, Mr. Dexter, who
was then associated with the elder Mr. Prescott as a counsellor,
and at the same time to read and write for the son five or six
hours every day. This arrangement did not, however, take
effect until after Mr. English was graduated, in 1827 ; and it
continued, much to the satisfaction of both parties, for four
years. It was the happy beginning of a new order of things
for the studies of the historian, and one which, with different
secretaries or readers, he was able to keep up to the last. 12
During the interval of almost a year, which immediately pre-
n Mr. George Lunt.
12 Mr. Prescott's different readers and secretaries were, as nearly as I can
remember and make out, George R. M. Withington, for a short period,
which I cannot exactly determine ; George Lunt, 1825 - 26 ; Hamilton Parker,
1826 - 27 5 James Lloyd English, 1827 - 31 ; Henry Cheever Simonds, 1831 -
35; E. D wight Williams, 1835-40; George F. Ware, 1840- 42 j Edmund B.
Otis, 1842-46; George F. Ware again, 1846-47; Robert Carter, 1847-48;
John Foster Kirk, 1848 - 59.
STUDIES OF A YEAR. 79
ceded the commencement of Mr. English's services, nothing
is more striking than the amount and thoroughness of Mr.
Prescott's studies. It in fact was a broad basis that he now
began to lay, in defiance of all the difficulties that beset him,
for a superstructure which yet, as he clearly foresaw, could be
erected only after a very long interval, if, indeed, he should
ever be permitted to erect it. It was, too, a basis laid in the
most deliberate manner, slowly and surely ; for, as he could not
now read at all himself, every page, as it was listened to, had to
be carefully considered, and its contents carefully appropriated.
Among the books thus read to him were Montesquieu's " Spirit
of Laws," Enfield's " History of Philosophy," Smith's " Wealth
of Nations," Hallam's " Middle Ages," Blackstone's " Commen-
taries," Vol. L, Millar's " English Government," the four con-
cluding volumes of Gibbon, parts of Turner's " History of Eng-
land," parts, of Mosheim's "Ecclesiastical History" and of John
Miiller's " Universal History," Mills's " History of Chivalry,"
the Memoirs of Commines, Robertson's " Charles the Fifth,"
and his " America," and Watson's " Philip the Second." Be-
sides all this, he listened to translations of Plato's " Phaedo," of
Epictetus, of the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and of Cice-
ro's " Tusculan Questions " and " Letters " ; and, finally, he
went in the same way through portions of Sismondi's " R^pub-
liques Italiennes " in the original, as an experiment, and be-
came persuaded, from the facility with which he understood it
when read at the rate of twenty-four pages an hour, that he
should meet with no absolutely insurmountable obstacle in the
prosecution of any of his historical plans. Everything, there-
fore, went according to his wish, and seemed propitious ; but
his eyes remained in a very bad state. He was often in a dark
room, and never able to use them for any of the practical pur-
poses of study. 13
18 He makes hardly a note about his opinion on the authors embraced in
his manifold studies this year, from want of sight to do it. But what he re-
cords about Robertson and Watson, brief as it is, is worth notice, because
these writers both come upon his chosen track. " Robertson's extensive sub-
ject," he says, " is necessarily deficient in connection; but a lively interest is
kept up by a perpetual succession of new discoveries and brilliant adventures,
seasoned with sagacious reflections, and enriched with a clear and vigorous
diction." In some remarks concerning Charles V., thirty years later, he does
Dr. Robertson the homage of calling him " the illustrious Scottish historian,"
80 WILLIAM fflCKLING PRESCOTT.
Still, as always, his spirits rose with the occasion, and his
courage proved equal to his spirits. He had a large part of
the Spanish grammar read over to him, that he might feel
quite sure-footed in the language, and then, confirming anew
his determination to write the History of Ferdinand and Isa-
bella, he pushed vigorously forward with his investigations in
that direction.
He read, or rather listened to, Koch's "Revolutions de
1'Europe " ; Voltaire's " Essai sur les Mceurs " ; Gibbon, so far
as the Visigoths in Spain are concerned ; and Conde's " Spanish
Arabs." As he approached his main subject more nearly, he
went through the reigns of several of the preceding and follow-
ing Spanish sovereigns in Ferreras's General History of Spain,
as well as in Rabbe, Morales, and Bigland ; adding the whole of
Gaillard's " Rivalite" de la France et de PEspagne," and of the
Abbe" Mignot's meagre " Histoire de Ferdinand et Isabelle."
The geography of the country he had earlier studied on minute
maps, when his eyes had for a short time permitted such use
of them, and he now endeavored to make himself familiar with
the Spanish, people and their national character, by listening to
such travellers as Bourgoing and Townsend. Finally, he fin-
ished this part of his preparation by going afresh over the con-
cluding portions of Mariana's eloquent History ; thus obtaining
from so many different sources, not only a sufficient and more
than sufficient mere basis for his own work, but from Mariana
the best general outline for it that existing materials could fur-
nish. It is not easy to see how he could have been more thor-
ough and careful, even if he had enjoyed the full use of his
sight, nor how, with such an infirmity, he could deliberately
have undertaken and carried out a course of merely preparatory
studies so ample and minute.
But he perceived the peculiar embarrassments, as well as the
great resources, of his subject, and endeavored to provide against
them by long consideration and reflection beforehand. In his
Memoranda he says:
but enters into no discussion of his peculiar merits. Of Watson, on the con-
trary, in his private notes of 1827, he says that he is " a meagre unphilosoph-
ical chronicler of the richest period of Spanish history " ; an opinion substan-
tially confirmed in the Preface to his own Philip II., in 1855, where a com-
pliment is paid to Robertson at Watson's expense.
VIEW OF HIS SUBJECT. 81
" I must not be too fastidious, nor too anxious to amass every authority
that can bear upon the subject. The materials that will naturally offer
themselves to me are abundant enough, in all conscience. Whatever I
write will have the merit at least of novelty to an English reader. In
such parts of the subject, therefore, as have been well treated by French
writers, I had better take them pretty closely for my guides, without troub-
ling myself to hunt more deeply, except only for corroborative authorities,
which can be easily done. It is fortunate that this subject is little known
to English readers, while many parts of it have been ably discussed by
accessible foreign writers, such as Marina and Sempere for the Consti-
tution ; Llorente for the Inquisition ; the sixth volume of the Historical
Transactions of the Spanish Academy for the influence and many details
of Isabella's reign, &c. ; Flechier for the life of Ximenes ; Varillas for the
foreign policy of Ferdinand ; Sismondi for the Italian wars and for the
general state of Italian and European politics in that age, while the reflec-
tions of this historian passim may furnish me with many good hints in an
investigation of the Spanish history and politics."
This was the view he took of his subject, as he fully con-
fronted it for the first time, and considered how, with such use
of his eyes as he then had, he could best address himself to the
necessary examination of his authorities. But he now, and for
some time subsequent, contemplated a shorter work than the one
he finally wrote, and a work of much less learned pretensions.
As, however, he advanced, he found that the most minute
investigations, such as he had above considered beyond his
reach, would be both necessary and agreeable. He began,
therefore, very soon, to examine all the original sources with
painstaking perseverance, and to compare them, not only with
each other, but with the interpretations that had subsequently
been put upon them. He struck much more widely and
boldly than he had intended or thought important. In short,
he learned and he learned it soon that it is necessary for
a conscientious author to read everything upon the subject he
means to discuss ; the poor and bad books, as well as those
upon which his reliance will ultimately be placed. He cannot
otherwise feel strong or safe.
Mr. Prescott had just reached this point in his studies, when,
in the autumn of 1827, Mr. English became his reader and
secretary. The first collection of books and manuscripts from
Madrid had been received a little earlier. But they had not
yet been used. They had come at a most unlucky moment,
when his eye was in a more than commonly suffering state, and
4*
82 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
they presented anything but a cheerful prospect to him, as they
lay unpacked and spread out on the floor of his study. As he
said long afterwards, " In my disabled condition, with my Trans-
atlantic treasures lying around me, I was like one pining from
hunger in the midst of abundance." 14
But he went to work in earnest with his new secretary. The
room in which they sat was an upper one in the back part of
the fine old house in Bedford Street, retired and quiet, and
every way well fitted for its purpose. Mr. English, in an
interesting letter to me, thus truly describes it.
" Two sides of the room," he says, " were lined with books from floor
to ceiling. On the easterly side was a green screen, which darkened that
part of the room towards which he turned his face as he sat at his writing-
table. On the westerly side was one window covered by several curtains
of light-blue muslin, so arranged that any one of them could be wholly or
partially raised, and thus temper the light exactly to the ability of his eye
to bear it, as the sky might happen to be bright or cloudy, or his eye more
or less sensitive. In the centre of the room stood his writing-table, at
which he sat in a rocking-chair with his back towards the curtained win-
dow, and sometimes with a green shade over his eyes. When we had a
fire, he used only coke in the grate, as giving out no flame, and he fre-
quently placed a screen between himself and the grate to keep off the
glare of the embers. At the northwesterly corner of the room was the only
window not partly or wholly darkened. It was set high up in the wall,
and under it was my chair. I was thus brought a short distance from his
left side, and rather behind him, as a sailor would say, on his quarter.
In this position I read aloud to him regularly every day, from ten o'clock
in the forenoon to two in the afternoon, and from about six in the evening
to eight."
They began by reading portions of Llorente's " Histoire de
1' Inquisition " ; but their first serious attack was on the chroni-
cles of Andre's Bernaldez, not then printed, but obtained by
him in manuscript from Madrid, a gossiping, amusing book,
whose accounts extend from 1488 to 1513, and are particularly
important for the Moorish wars and the life of Columbus. But
the young secretary found it very hard reading.
" A huge parchment-covered manuscript," he calls Bernaldez, " my old
enemy ; from whose pages I read and reread so many hours that I shall
never forget him. Mr. Prescott considered the book a great acquisition,
and would sit for hours hearing me read it in the Spanish, at first with
great difficulty and until I got familiar with the chirography. How he
could understand me at first, as I blundered along, I could not conceive.
i* Conquest of Peru, (1857), Vol. I. p. xvi.
MODES OF WORK. 83
If he was annoyed, as he well might be, he never betrayed his feelings
to me.
" He seemed fully conscious of the difficulty of the task before him, but
resolutely determined to accomplish it, if human patience and perseverance
could do so. As I read any passages which he wished to impress on his
memory, he would say, ' Mark that/ that is, draw parallel lines in the
margin with a pencil against it. He used also to take a note or memo-
randum of anything he wished particularly to remember, with a reference
to it. His wilting apparatus always lay open before him on the table, and
he usually sat with his ivory style in hand, ready to make his notes of
reference. 15 These notes I afterwards copied out in a very large round
hand for his future use, and, when he began actually to write the history,
would read them over and verify the reference by the original authority,
if he required it. I think, however, he did not very often find it necessary
to refer to the book, as he seemed to have cultivated his memory to a very
high degree, and had, besides, a habit of reflecting upon and arranging in
his mind, or ' digesting,' as he phrased it, the morning's reading while sit-
ting alone afterwards in his study. A graphic phrase it was, too, consid-
ering that he took in through his ears I don't know how many pages at a
four hours' session of steady reading. The wonder was, how he could
find time to ' digest ' such a load between the sessions. But thus he fixed
the substance of what had been read to him in his mind, and impressed the
results of the forenoon's work on his memory.
" When I first began to read to Mr. Prescott, his eye was in a very sen-
sitive state, and he did not attempt to use it at all. After some months,
however, it got stronger, and he would sit at the curtained window, with a
volume open upon a frame on a stand, and read himself, marking passages
as he went along. While so reading, he would frequently raise or lower,
wholly or partially, one or more of the blue curtains. Each of them had
its separate cord, which he knew as well as a sailor knows his ropes. Every
little white cloud that passed across the sky required a change in the ar-
rangement of these curtains, so sensitive was his eye to a variation of light
imperceptible to me. But it was only a portion of the time that he could
do this. His eye would give way or he would feel symptoms of return-
ing trouble, and then, for weeks together, he would be compelled to take
his old seat in the rocking-chair, and return to the slow process of listening
and marking passages, and having his notes and memoranda read over to
him as at first."
How sound and practical his general views were can be seen
from his plan of work at this moment, when he had deter-
mined what he would do, but did not think himself nearly-
ready even to begin the actual composition of the History itself.
In October, 1828, when they had been at work for a year
in this preparatory reading, but during which his private
16 His peculiar writing apparatus, already alluded to, will be presently
described. It was the noctograph, which he had obtained in England.
84 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
memoranda, owing to the state of his eye, had been very
meagre, he says :
By the intermixture of reading for a given chapter and then writing
for it, I shall be able, with the relief which this alternate occupation will
give my eyes, to accomplish a good deal with them, I trust. After I have
finished Bernaldez's manuscript and the few remaining pages of Ferreras,
and looked through the ' Modern Universal History ' from the accession of
the house of Trastamara to the end of the reigns of the Catholic kings, and
looked into Marina's ' Theory of the Cortes/ which will scarcely require
more than a fortnight, I shall be prepared to begin to read for my first
chapter."
He added to this a syllabus of what, from the point of view
at which he then stood, he thought might be the arrangement
of his materials for the first two chapters of his work ; noting
the length of time he might need to prepare himself to begin
to write, and afterwards the time necessary to complete them.
That he was willing to be patient is clear from the fact that
he allowed two hundred and fifty-six days, or eight months
and a half to this preparatory reading, although he had already
been two years, more or less, on the work ; and that he was
not to be discouraged by slowness of actual progress is equally
clear, for, although it was above fourteen 'months before he
finished this part of his task, yet at the end of that time his
courage and hopes were as high as ever.
CHAPTER VII.
1829 - 1837.
DEATH OF HIS DAUGHTER. INQUIRIES INTO THE TRUTH OF THE CHRIS-
TIAN RELIGION. RESULTS. EXAMINES THE HISTORY OF THE SPAN-
ISH ARABS. REVIEWS IRVING'S "GRANADA." STUDIES FOR HIS
WORK ON FERDINAND AND ISABELLA. BEGINS TO WRITE IT. RE-
GARD FOR MABLY AND CLEMENCIN. PROGRESS OF HIS WORK. AT
PEPPERELL. AT NAHANT. FINISHES THE " HISTORY OF FERDI-
NAND AND -ISABELLA."
THE long delay referred to in the last chapter was in
part owing to a severe sorrow which fell on him in the
winter of 1828 - 9, and stopped him in mid-career. On the 1st
of February, the eldest of his two children died. It was a
daughter, born on the 23d of September, 1824, and therefore
four years and four or five months old, a charming, gentle
child of much promise, who had been named after her grand-
mother, Catherine Hickling. He had doted on her. His
mother said most truly, writing to Mrs. Ticknor in 1825 : " It
is a very nice little girl, and William is one of the happiest
fathers you ever saw. All the time he can spare from Italian
and Spanish studies is devoted to this little pet." Mr. English
remembers well how she used to be permitted to come into the
study, and interrupt whatever work was going on there, much
to his own satisfaction as well as to the father's, for her en-
gaging ways had won the secretary's love too. The shock of her
death was very great, and was, besides, somewhat sudden. I
have seldom seen sorrow more deep ; and, what was remark-
able, the grandfather and grandmother were so much overcome
by it as to need the consolation they would otherwise have
gladly given. It was, indeed, a much distressed house. 1
i In a letter dated June 30, 1844, to Don, Pascual de Gayangos, who had
just suffered from the loss of a young child, Mr. Prescott says, " A similar
calamity befell me some years since. It was my favorite child, taken away
at the age of four, when all the loveliness and vivacity of the character is
opening upon us. I never can suffer again as I then did. It was my first
heavy sorrow; and I suppose we cannot feel twice so bitterly."
86 WILLIAM mCKLING PEESCOTT.
But the father wrought out consolation for himself in his own
way. A fortnight after the death of his child he records :
"February 15th, 1829. The death of my dearest daughter on the
first day of this month having made it impossible for me at present to re-
sume the task of composition, I have been naturally led to more serious
reflection than usual, and have occupied myself with reviewing the grounds
of the decision which I made in 1819 in favor of the evidences of the
Christian revelation. I have endeavored and shall endeavor to prosecute
this examination with perfect impartiality, and to guard against the pres-
ent state of my feelings influencing my mind any further than by leading
it to give to the subject a more serious attention. And, so far, such influ-
ence must be salutary and reasonable, and far more desirable than any
counter influence which might be exerted by any engrossing occupation
with the cares and dissipation of the world. So far, I believe, I have con-
ducted the matter with sober impartiality."
What he did on this subject, as on all others, he did thor-
oughly and carefully. His secretary read to him the principal
books which it was then considered important to go through
when making a fair examination of the supernatural claims of
Christianity. Among them, on the one side, were Hume's
"Essays," and especially the one on Miracles; Gibbon's fif-
teenth chapter, and parts of the sixteenth ; Middleton's " Free
Inquiry," which whatever were its author's real opinions, leans
towards unbelief; and Soame Jenyns's somewhat easy discus-
sion of the Evidences, which is yet not wanting in hidden skill
and acuteness. On the other hand, he took Watson's " Apol-
ogy " ; Brown's " Lectures," so far as they are an amplification
of his admirably condensed " Essay on Cause and Effect " ;
several of Water-land's treatises; Butler's "Analogy" and Pa-
ley's " Evidences," with the portions of Lardner needful to
explain and illustrate them. The last three works he valued
more than all the others. But I think he relied mainly upon a
careful reading of the Four Gospels, and an especial inquiry
into each one of the Saviour's miracles, as related by each of
the Evangelists. This investigation he made with his father's
assistance ; and, when it was over, he said that he considered
such an examination, made with an old and learned lawyer, was
a sufficient pledge for the severity of his scrutiny. He might
have added, that it was the safer, because the person who
helped him in making it was not only a man of uncommon
fairness of mind, perspicacity, and wisdom, but one who was
TRUTH OF CHKISTIANITY. 87
very cautious, and, on all matters of evidence, had a tendency
to scepticism rather than credulity.
The conclusions at which he arrived were, that the narra-
tives of the Gospels were authentic ; that, after so careful an
examination of them, he ought not to permit his mind to be
disturbed on the same question again, unless he should be able
to make an equally faithful revision of the whole subject ; and
that, even if Christianity were not a divine revelation, no sys-
tem of morals was so likely to fit him for happiness here and
hereafter. But he did not find in the Gospels, or in any part
of the New Testament, the doctrines commonly accounted
orthodox, and he deliberately recorded his rejection of them.
On one minor point, too, he was very explicit. He declared his
purpose to avoid all habits of levity on religious topics. And
to this purpose, I believe, he adhered rigorously through life.
At least, I am satisfied that I never heard him use light expres-
sions or allusions of any kind when speaking of Christianity, or
when referring to the Scriptures. His mind, in fact, was rev-
erential in its very nature, and so was his father's. 2
After a few weeks devoted to these inquiries, he resumed
his accustomed studies. At the moment when they had been
broken off, he was not employed regularly on his History. He
had already stepped aside to write an article for the " North-
American Review." During eight years he had been in the
habit occasionally of contributing what he sometimes called
" his peppercorn " to that well-established and respectable peri-
odical ; regarding his contributions as an exercise in writing
which could not fail to be useful to him. His first experiments
2 It was noticed by one of the members of his Club, Dr. John Ware,
whose judgment and acuteness render his observation important, that Mr.
Prescott was much interested whenever the subject of religion, or anything
that claimed to be connected with the spiritual world, came up in the familiar
discussions of their meetings. " He was always desirous," says Dr. Ware,
" to hear something about magnetism, when that was in vogue, and still more
about spiritual manifestations, when they came in fashion." This falls in
with my own recollections and impressions. He went once certainly, and I
think more than once, to witness the exhibitions of a medium. But no effect
was produced on his mind. He was always slow of belief. His historical judg-
ments prove this, and what he saw of "the manifestations," as they were
called, rested on nothing like the evidence he was accustomed to require.
Besides, they offended the sentiment of reverence, which, as I have said,
was strong in his whole nature.
88 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
of this sort, saving always the youthful failure already recorded,
were, I suppose, two short articles, in 1821, on Sprague's beau-
tifully prize " Ode to Shakespeare," and on Byron's Letter
upon Pope. These had been followed, with the regularity
that marked almost everything he did, by a single article on
some literary subject every succeeding year. It was an excel-
lent discipline for him as a beginner, and although, from the slow-
ness with which he necessarily worked, it took much time, he
never, I think, seriously regretted the sacrifice it implied.
But now, being engrossed with his inquiries into early Span-
ish history, he preferred to take a subject immediately con-
nected with them. He wrote, therefore, an article on Conde's
" History of the Arabs in Spain," comprising a general view of
the Arabian character and civilization. It was- prepared with
great care. He gave much time to previous reading and study
on the subject, I do not know exactly how much, but cer-
tainly three months, probably four, and it was not till nearly
seven months after he first began to collect materials for the
article that it was completed ; 8 from which, however, should
be deducted the sorrowful period of several weeks that preceded
and followed his little daughter's death. But, after all, he did
not send it to the periodical publication for which it had been
written. He found, perhaps, that it was too important for his
own ulterior purposes ; certainly, that it was not fitted for the
more popular tone of such a work as the " North American."
Substituting for it, therefore, a pleasant article on Irving's
" Conquest of Granada," which had cost him much less labor,
but which was quite as interesting, he laid the one on Conde
quietly aside, and finally, with some modifications, used it as
the eighth chapter in the First Part of his " Ferdinand and Isa-
bella," where it stands now, an admirable foreground to the
brilliant picture of the siege and fall of Granada. 4
8 The manuscript notes for this article, now before me, are extraordinarily
elaborate and minute. They fill two hundred and forty-four large foolscap
pages, and have an index to them.
4 Mr. Bancroft, in a review of "Ferdinand and Isabella," selects this chap-
ter as a happy illustration of the faithful industry with which the work is
written. " Let any American scholar," he says, " turn, for instance, to the
chapter on the literature of the Saracens, and ask himself, how long a period
would be required to prepare for writing it." Democratic Review, (1838,)
Vol. II. p. 162.
IRVING'S CONQUEST OF GRANADA. 89
It was June, 1829, before he returned to his regular read-
ings preparatory to the actual composition of Ferdinand and
Isabella. In his more leisure hours, generally in the evening,
he went over several works, half biography, half history,
such as Miss Aikin's " Queen Elizabeth," Voltaire's " Charles
XIL," and Roscoe's "Lorenzo de' Medici" and his "Leo X.,"
to see if he could glean from them any ideas for the general
management of his subject ; while, for easy, finished narrative,
he listened to large portions of Barante's " Dues de Bour-
gogne," and studied with some care Thierry, the marvellous,
blind Thierry, for whom he always felt a strong sympathy in
consequence of their common misfortune, and to whose manner
of treating history with a free citation of the old ballads and
chronicles he was much inclined. From all this, perhaps, he
gained little, except warnings what to avoid. At the same
time, however, that he was doing it, he gave his forenoons to
the direct, severe study of his subject. He advanced slowly,
to be sure ; for his eyes were in a very bad state, and he was
obliged to depend entirely on his reader when going through
even such important works as those of Marina and Sempere
on the Cortes, and Palencia's Chronicle of the time of Henry
IV. Still he got on, and, in the course of the summer, pre-
pared an elaborate synopsis of the chief events to be discussed
in his contemplated history ; all chronologically arranged from
1454, when John II., Isabella's father, died, to 1516, the
date of Ferdinand's death, which, of course, would close the
work.
From this synopsis, and especially from the estimate it in-
volved of the proportions of its different divisions, he, indeed,
sometimes varied, as his ample materials were unrolled before
him. But the whole plan, as he then digested it, shows that
he had mastered the outline of his subject, and comprehended
justly the relations and combinations of its various parts. He
thought, however, that he could bring it all into two moderate
volumes in octavo. In this he was mistaken. The work, from
his thorough and faithful treatment of it, grew under his
hands, and the world is not sorry that at last it was extended
to three.
On the 6th of October, 1829, three years and a half from
90 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
the time when he had selected his subject, and begun to work
upon it, he finally broke ground with its actual composition.
He had then been three months reading and taking notes ex-
clusively for the first chapter. It was a month before that
chapter was finished, and afterwards it was all rewritten.
Two months more brought him to the end of the third chap-
ter; and, although the space filled by the three so greatly
overran the estimate in his synopsis as to alarm him, he still
felt that he had made good progress, and took courage. He
was, in fact, going on at a rate which would make his History
fill five volumes, and yet it was long before he gave up the
struggle to keep it down to two. Similar trouble he encoun-
tered all the way through his work. He was constantly over-
running his own calculations, and unreasonably dissatisfied
with himself for his mistakes and bad reckoning.
Two things are noteworthy at this stage of his progress,
because one of them influenced the whole of his subsequent
life as an historian, and the other did much towards giving a
direction and tone to his discussion of the characters and reign
of Ferdinand and Isabella.
The first is his increased regard for Mably as a counsellor
and guide. In January, 1830, after looking afresh through
some of Mably's works, there occurs the following notice of
him, chiefly with reference to his treatise " Sur 1'Etude de
1' Histoire," which, as we have already noticed, had engaged
his careful attention five years earlier : 5 " He takes wide views,
and his politics are characterized by directness and good faith.
I have marked occasionally passages in the portions I have
looked over which will be worth recurring to. I like particu-
larly his notion of the necessity of giving an interest as well as
utility to history, by letting events tend to some obvious point
or moral ; in short, by paying such attention to the develop-
ment of events tending to this leading result, as one would in
the construction of a romance or a drama." A few days after-
wards he records the way in which he proposes to apply this
principle to the " History of Ferdinand and Isabella." With
6 He calls Mably " a perspicuous, severe, shrewd, and sensible writer, full
of thought, and of such thoughts as set the reader upon thinking for
himself."
USE OF MABLY. 91
what success lie subsequently carried it out in his " Conquest
of Mexico " need not be told. In each instance he was aware
of the direction his work was taking, and cites Mably as the
authority for it. The same purpose is plain in the " Conquest
of Peru," although the conditions of the case did not permit it
to be equally applicable. 6
The other circumstance to which I referred, as worthy of
notice at this time, is Mr. Prescott's increased and increasing
sense of the importance of what Don Diego Clemencin had
done in his " Elogio de la Reina Dona Isabel," for the life of
that great sovereign. This remarkable work, which, in an im-
perfect outline, its author had read to -the Spanish Academy of
History in 1807, he afterwards enlarged and enriched, until,
when it was published in 1821, it filled the whole of the sixth
ample volume of the Memoirs of that learned body. Mr.
Prescott, above a year earlier, had consulted it, and placed it
among the books to be carefully studied, but now he used it
constantly. Later, he said it was " a most rich repository of
unpublished facts, to be diligently studied by me at every
pausing point in my history." And in a note at the end of
his sixth chapter he pronounces it to be a work of inestimable
service to the historian. These tributes to the modest, faithful
learning of the Secretary of the Spanish Academy of History,
who was afterwards its Director, are alike creditable to him
who offered them, and to Don Diego de Clemencin, who was
then no longer among the living, and to whom they could not,
therefore, be offered in flattery.
In 1841, when he was occupied with the " Conquest of Mexico," he says,
" Have read for the tenth time, ' Mably sur 1' Etude de 1'Histoire,' full of ad-
mirable reflections and hints. Pity that his love of the ancients made him
high gravel-blind to the merits of the moderns." This treatise, which Mr.
Prescott studied with such care and perseverance, was written by Mably as
a part of the course of instruction arranged by Condillac, Mably's kinsman,
for the use of the heir to the dukedom of Parma, and it was printed in 1775.
Mably was, no doubt, often extravagant and unsound in his opinions, and is
now little regarded. How the author of " Ferdinand and Isabella " hit upon a
work so generally overlooked, I do not know, except that nothing seemed to
escape him that could be made to serve his purpose. On another occasion,
when speaking of it, he implies that its precepts may not be applicable
to political histories generally, which often require a treatment more philo-
sophical. But that he consulted it much when writing the " Ferdinand and
Isabella," and the " Conquest of Mexico," is not doubtful.
92 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
But while the historian of Ferdinand and Isabella valued
Mably and Clemencin as trustworthy guides, he read every-
thing, and judged and decided for himself concerning every-
thing, as he went on. His progress, indeed, was on these and
on all accounts slow. His eye at this period was not in a con-
dition to enable him to use it except with the greatest caution.
He sometimes felt obliged to consider the contingency of losing
the use of it altogether, and had the courage to determine, even
in that event, to go on with his history. How patient he must
have been, we may judge from the fact, that, in sixteen months,
he was not able to accomplish more than three hundred pages.
But neither then, nor at any time afterwards, was he disheart-
ened by the difficulties he encountered. On the contrary, al-
though progress perceptible progress was very important
to his happiness, he was content to have it very slow. Some-
tunes, however, he went on more easily, and then he was much
encouraged. In the summer of 1832, when he had been very
industrious for two months, he wrote to me, " I have disposed
of three chapters of my work, which is pretty good hammer-
ing for a Cyclops." Such intervals of freer labor gave him a
great impulse. He enjoyed his own industry and success, and
his original good spirits did the rest.
As he advanced, his subject cleared up before him, and he
arranged it at last in two nearly equal divisions ; the first illus-
trating more particularly the domestic policy of the sovereigns,
and bringing Isabella into the foreground ; and the second mak-
ing their foreign policy and the influence and management of
Ferdinand more prominent. In each he felt more and more
the importance of giving interest to his work by preserving for
it a character of unity, and keeping in view some pervading
moral purpose. One thing, however, disappointed him. He
perceived certainly that it must be extended to three volumes.
This he regretted. But he resolved that in no event would
he exceed this estimate, and he was happily able to keep his
resolution, although it cost him much self-denial to do it. He
was constantly exceeding his allowance of space, and as con-
stantly condensing and abridging his work afterwards, so as to
come within it. To this part of his labor he gave full two
years. It was a long time ; but, as he advanced with a step
PROGRESS AND DIFFICULTIES. . 93
assured by experience, his progress became at least more even
and easy, if not faster.
The early part of the summer of 1835, which he passed at
Pepperell, was peculiarly agreeable and happy. He felt that
his work was at last completely within his control, and was
approaching its termination. He even began to be impatient,
which he had never been before.
In a pleasant letter to his friend Mr. Bancroft, dated Pep-
perell, June 17, 1835, he says:
" I find the country, as usual, favorable to the historic Muse. I am so
near the term of my labors, that, if I were to remain here six months
longer, I should be ready to launch my cock-boat, or rather gondola, for
it is a heavy three- volume affair, into the world. A winter's campaign-
ing in the metropolis, however, will throw me back, I suppose, six months
further. I have little more to do than bury and write the epitaphs of the
Great Captain, Ximenes, and Ferdinand. Columbus and Isabella are
already sent to their account. So my present occupation seems to be that
of a sexton, and I begin to weary of it." 7
A month later he went, as usual, to the sea-shore for the hot
season. But, before he left the spot always so dear to him,
he recorded the following characteristic reflections and reso-
lutions :
"July 12th, 1835. In three days, the 15th, we leave Pepperell, hav-
ing been here nearly ten weeks. We found the country in its barren
spring, and leave it in the prime dress of summer. I have enjoyed the
time, and may look back on it with some satisfaction, for I have not
misspent it, as the record will show.
" On the whole, there is no happiness so great as that of a permanent
and lively interest in some intellectual labor. I, at least, could never be
tolerably contented without it. When, therefore, I get so absorbed by
pleasures particularly exciting pleasures as to feel apathy, in any
degree, in my literary pursuits, just in that degree I am less happy. No
other enjoyment can compensate, or approach to, the steady satisfaction
and constantly increasing interest of active literary labor, the subject of
meditation when I am out of my study, of diligent stimulating activity
within, to say nothing of the comfortable consciousness of directing my
7 The mother of the future historian and statesman was an early friend of
the elder Mrs. Prescott, and the attachment of the parents was betimes trans-
ferred to>the children. From the period of Mr. Bancroft's return home, after
several years spent in Europe, where his academic course was completed,
this attachment was cemented by constant intercourse and intimacy with the
Prescott family, and was never broken until it was broken by death. Some
allusions to this friendship have already been made. More will be found
hereafter.
94 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
powers in some channel worthy of them, and of contributing something to
the stock of useful knowledge in the world. As this must be my princi-
pal material for happiness, I should cultivate those habits and amusements
most congenial with it, and these will be the quiet domestic duties
which will also be my greatest pleasures and temperate social enjoy-
ments, not too frequent and without excess; for the excess of to-day will
be a draft on health and spirits to-morrow. Above all, observe if my in-
terest be weakened in any degree in my pursuits. If so, be sure I am
pursuing a wrong course somewhere, wrong even in an Epicurean sense
for my happiness, and reform it at once.
" With these occupations and temperate amusement, seek to do some
good to society by an interest in obviously useful and benevolent objects.
Preserve a calm, philosophical, elevated way of thinking on all subjects
connected with the action of life. Think more seriously of the conse-
quences of conduct. Cherish devotional feelings of reliance on the Deity.
Discard a habit of sneering or scepticism. Do not attempt impossibilities,
or, in other words, to arrive at certainty [as if] on questions of historic
evidence ; but be content that there is evidence enough to influence a
wise man in the course of his conduct, enough to produce an assent, if
not a mathematical demonstration to his mind, and that the great laws
for our moral government are laid down with undeniable, unimpeachable
truth."
A week after the date of these last reflections, he was quietly
established at Nahant, having remained, as usual, two or three
days in Boston to look after affairs that could not be attended
to in the country. But he always disliked these periodical
changes and removals. They broke up his habits, and made
a return to his regular occupations more or less difficult and
unsatisfactory. On this occasion, coming from the tranquil-
lizing influences of Pepperell, where he had been more than
commonly industrious and happy, he makes an amusing rec-
ord of a fit of low spirits and impatience, which is worth
notice, because it is the only one to be found in all his memo-
randa :
"July 19th. Moved to Nahant yesterday. A most consumed fit of
vapors. The place looks dreary enough after the green fields of Pep-
perell. Don't like the air as well either, too chilly, find I bear and
like hot weather better than I used to. Begin to study, that is the best
way of restoring equanimity. Be careful of my eyes at first, till accom-
modated to the glare. Hope I shall find this good working-ground,
have generally found it so. This ink is too pale to write further. Every-
thing goes wrong here."
But he had a good season for work at Nahant, after all. He
wrote there, not only the troublesome account of the Conquest
FINISHES "FERDINAND AND ISABELLA." 95
of Navarre, but the brilliant cliapters on the deaths of Gon-
salvo de Cordova and Ferdinand, leaving only the administra-
tion and fall of Cardinal Ximenes for a dignified close to the
whole narrative part of the history, and thus giving a sort of
tragical denouement to it, such as he desired. This he com-
pleted in Boston, about the middle of November.
A chapter to review the whole of his subject, and point it
with its appropriate moral, was, however, still wanted. It was
a difficult task, and he knew it ; for, among other things, it in-
volved a general and careful examination of the entire legis-
lation of a period in which great changes had taken place, and
permanent reforms had been introduced. He allowed five
months for it. It took above seven, but it is an admirable part
of his work, and worth all the time and labor it cost him.
At last, on the 25th of June, 1836, he finished the conclud-
ing note of the concluding chapter to the History of Ferdinand
and Isabella. Reckoning from the time when he wrote the
first page, or from a period a little earlier, when he prepared a
review of Conde on the Spanish Arabs, which he subsequently
made a chapter in his work, the whole had been on his hands
a little more than seven years and a half; and, deducting nine
months for illness and literary occupations not connected with
his History, he made out that he had written, during that time,
at the rate of two hundred and thirty-four printed pages a year.
But he had read and labored on the subject much in the two
or three years that preceded the beginning of its absolute
composition, and another year of corrections in the proof-sheets
followed before it was fairly deli vered to the world at Christ-
mas, 1837. He was, therefore, exact, even after making all
the deductions that can belong to the case, when, in his general
estimate, he said that he had given to the work ten of the best
years of his life.
CHAPTER VIII.
1837-1838.
DOUBTS ABOUT PUBLISHING THE " HISTORY OF FERDINAND AND ISABEL-
LA." FOUR COPIES PRINTED AS -IT WAS WRITTEN. OPINIONS OF
FRIENDS. THE AUTHOR'S OWN OPINION OF HIS WORK. PUBLISHES
IT. His LETTERS ABOUT IT. ITS SUCCESS. ITS PUBLICATION IN
LONDON. REVIEWS OF IT IN THE UNITED STATES AND IN EUROPE.
STRANGE as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that
after these ten years of labor on the Ferdinand and Isa-
bella, and with the full happiness he felt on completing that
work, Mr. Prescott yet hesitated at last whether he should
publish it or not. As early as 1833, and from that time for-
ward, while the composition was going on, he had caused four
copies of it to be printed in large type on one side only of the
leaf. For this he had two reasons. If he should determine
to publish the work in London, he could send a fair, plain copy
to be printed from ; and, at any rate, from such a copy he
might himself, whenever his eye could endure the task, revise
the whole personally, making on the blank pages such correc-
tions and alterations as he might find desirable. This task
was already accomplished. He had gone over the whole, a
little at a time, with care. Some portions he had rewritten.
The first chapter he wrote out three times, and printed it
twice, before it was finally put in stereotype, and adjusted to
its place as it now stands.
Still he hesitated. He consulted with his father, as he al-
ways did when he doubted in relation to matters of conse-
quence. His father not only advised the publication but told
him that " the man who writes a book which he is afraid to
publish is a coward." This stirred the blood of his grandfather
in his veins, and decided him. 1
He had, however, the concurrent testimony of judicious and
l Griswold's Prose Writers of America, 1847, p. 372.
THE AUTHOR'S OWN OPINION. 97
faithful friends. Mr. Sparks, the historian, in a note dated
February 24th, 1837, says: "I have read several chapters,
and am reading more. The book will be successful, bought,
read, and praised." And Mr. Pickering, the modest, learned,
philosophical philologist, to whom he submitted it a little later,
sent him more decisive encouragement under date of May 1st.
MY DEAR SIR,
Being uninterrupted last evening, I had an opportunity to finish the few
pages that remained of your work, and I now return the volumes with
many thanks. I cannot, however, take leave of them without again ex-
pressing the high satisfaction I feel that our country should have produced
such a work, a work which, unless I am much mistaken, will live as
long as any one produced by your contemporaries either here or in Eng-
land.
I am, my dear sir, with the warmest regard,
Very truly yours,
JOHN PICKERING.
His friend Mr. Gardiner had already gone over the whole
of the three volumes with his accustomed faithfulness, and with
a critical judgment which few possess. He had suggested an
important alteration in the arrangement of some of the early
chapters, which was gladly adopted, and had offered minor
corrections and verbal criticism of all sorts, with the freedom
which their old friendship demanded, but a considerable part
of which were, with the same freedom, rejected ; the author
maintaining, as he always did, a perfect independence of judg-
ment in all such matters.
How he himself looked upon his ten years' labor may be
seen by the following extracts from his memoranda, before he
passed the final, fatal bourn of the press. After giving some
account of his slow progress and its causes, he says, under date
of June 26th, 1836, when he had recorded the absolute com-
pletion of the History :
" Pursuing the work in this quiet, leisurely way, without over-exertion
or fatigue, or any sense of obligation to complete it in a given time, I have
found it a continual source of pleasure. It has furnished food for my
meditations, has given a direction and object to my scattered reading, and
supplied me with regular occupation for hours that would otherwise have
filled me with ennui. I have found infinite variety in the study, moreover,
which might at first sight seem monotonous. No historical labors, rightly
conducted, can be monotonous, since they afford all the variety of pursu-
ing a chain of facts to unforeseen consequences, of comparing doubtful and
5 G
98 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
contradictory testimony, of picturesque delineations of incident, and of
analysis and dramatic exhibition of character. The plain narrative may
be sometimes relieved by general views or critical discussions, and the
story and the actors, as they grow under the hands, acquire constantly
additional interest. It may seem dreary work to plod through barbarous
old manuscript chronicles of monks and pedants, but this takes up but a
small portion of the time, and even here, read aloud to, as I have been,
required such close attention as always made the time pass glibly. In
short, although I have sometimes been obliged to whip myself up to the
work, I have never fairly got into it without deriving pleasure from it, and
I have most generally gone to it with pleasure, and left it with regret.
" What do I expect from it, now it is done 7 And may it not be all in
vain and labor lost, after all 1 My expectations are not such, if I know
myself, as to expose me to any serious disappointment. I do not flatter
myself with the idea that I have achieved anything very profound, or, on
the other hand, that will be very popular. I know myself too well to
suppose the former for a moment. I know the public too well, and the
subject I have chosen, to expect the latter. But I have made a book
illustrating an unexplored and important period, from authentic materials,
obtained with much difficulty, and probably in the possession of no one
library, public or private, in Europe. As a plain, veracious record of
facts, the work, therefore, till some one else shall be found to make a
better one, will fill up a gap in literature which, I should hope, would give
it a permanent value, a value founded on its utility, though bringing no
great fame or gain to its author.
" Come to the worst, and suppose the thing a dead failure, and the book
born only to be damned. Still it will not be all in vain, since it has en-
couraged me in forming systematic habits of intellectual occupation, and
proved to me that my greatest happiness is to be the result of such. It is
no little matter to be possessed of this conviction from experience."
And again, in the following October, when he had entirely-
prepared his work for the press, he writes :
" Thus ends the labor of ten years, for I have been occupied more or
less with it, in general or particular readings, since the summer of 1826,
when, indeed, from the disabled state of my eyes, I studied with little spirit
and very little expectation of reaching this result. But what result 1 ?
Three solid octavos of facts, important in themselves, new in an English
dress, and which, therefore, however poor may be the execution of the
work, must have some value in an historic view. With the confidence in
its having such a value, however humble it ma}' be, I must rest contented.
And I now part with the companion of so many years with the cheering
conviction, that, however great or little good it may render the public, it
has done much to me, by the hours it has helped to lighten, and the habits
of application it has helped to form."
He caused the whole to be stereotyped without delay. This
mode he preferred, because it was one which left him a more
complete control of his own work than he could obtain in
PUBLICATION OF THE WORK. 99
any other way, and because, if it rendered corrections and
alterations more difficult, it yet insured greater typographical
accuracy at the outset. Mr. Charles Folsoni, a member of
the pleasant club that had been formed many years before,
superintended its publication with an absolute fidelity, good
taste, and kindness that left nothing to desire ; although, as
the author, when referring to his friend's criticisms and sug-
gestions, says, they made his own final revision anything but a
sinecure. It was, I suppose, as carefully carried through the
press as any work ever was in this country. The pains that
had been taken with its preparation from the first were contin-
ued to the last.
That it was worth the many years of patient, conscientious
labor bestowed upon it, the world was not slow to acknowledge.
It was published in Boston by the American Stationers' Com-
pany, a corporate body that had a short time before been
organized under favorable auspices, but which troubles in the
financial condition of the country and other causes did not per-
mit long to continue its operations. The contract with them
was a very modest one. It was dated April 10th, 1837, and
stipulated on their part, for the use of the stereotype plates and
of the engravings, already prepared at the author's charge.
From these, twelve hundred and fifty copies might be struck
off at the expense of the Company, who were to have five
years to dispose of them. The bargain, however, was not, in
one point of view, unfavorable. It insured the zealous and
interested co-operation of a large and somewhat influential body
in the sale and distribution of the work, a matter, of much
more importance at that time than it would be now, when book-
selling as a business and profession in the United States is so
much more advanced. Otherwise, as a contract, it was cer-
tainly not brilliant in its promise. But the author thought
well of it ; and, since profit had not been his object, he was
entirely satisfied.
I was then in Italy, having been away from home with my
family nearly two years, during which I had constantly received
letters from him concerning the progress of his work. On this
occasion he wrote to me, April llth, 1837, the very day after
the date of his contract, as follows :
100 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
" If your eyes are ever greeted with the aspect of the old North [Amer-
ican Keview] in your pilgrimage, you may see announced the ' History of
Ferdinand and Isabella, 3 vols. 8vo,' as in press, which means, will be out
in October. The American Stationers' Company a company got up
with a considerable capital for the publication of expensive works have
contracted for an edition of twelve hundred and fifty copies. I find the
stereotype plates, which cost not a great deal more than the ordinary mode
of composition, and they the paper and all other materials, and pay me a
thousand dollars. The offer was a liberal one, and entirely answers my
purpose of introducing the work into the channels of circulation, which I
could not have effected by so small an inducement as a commission to a
publisher. The Company, as proprietors of the edition, have every
motive to disseminate it, and they have their agencies diffused through
every part of the United States. What has given me most satisfaction is
the very handsome terms in which the book has been recommended by
Messrs. Pickering and Sparks, two of the committee for determiuing on
the publication by the Company, and the former of whom before perusal,
expressed himself, as I know, unfavorably to the work as a marketable con-
cern, from the nature of the subject. My ambition will be fully satisfied,
if the judgments of the few whose good opinion I covet are but half so
favorable as those publicly expressed by these gentlemen
" I must confess I feel some disquietude at the prospect of coming in full
bodily presence, as it were, before the public. I have always shrunk from
such an exhibition, and, during the ten years I have been occupied with
the work, few of my friends have heard me say as many words about it.
When I saw my name harmonious < Hickling ' and all blazoned in
the North American, it gave me, as S would say, < quite a turn,'
anything but agreeable. But I am in for it. Of one thing I feel confi-
dent, that the book has been compiled from materials, and with a fidel-
ity, which must make it fill a hiatus deflendus in Spanish history. For the
same reasons, I cannot think that I have much to fear from criticism ; not
to add, that the rarity of my materials is such, that I doubt if any but a
Spaniard possesses the previous knowledge of the whole ground for a fair
and competent judgment of my historical accuracy. But enough and too
much of this egotism ; though I know you and Anna love me too well to
call it egotism, and will feel it to be only the unreserved communication
made around one's own fireside."
A great surprise to all the parties concerned followed the
publication. Five hundred copies only were struck off at first ;
that number being thought quite sufficient for an experiment
so doubtful as this was believed to be. No urgency was used
to have the whole even of this inconsiderable edition ready
for early distribution and sale. But during several days the
demand was so great, that copies could not be prepared by the
bookbinder as fast as they were called for. Three fifths of
the whole number were disposed of in Boston before any could
be spared to go elsewhere, and all disappeared in five weeks.
IMMEDIATE SUCCESS OF THE FERDINAND AND ISABELLA. 101
In a few months, more copies were sold than by the contract it
had been assumed could be disposed of in five years ; and from
the beginning of May, 1838, that is, in the course of four
months from its first publication, the History itself stood
before the public in the position it has maintained ever since.
A success so brilliant had never before been reached in so short
a time by any work of equal size and gravity on this side of the
Atlantic. Indeed, nothing of the sort had approached it.
" But," as his friend Mr. Gardiner has truly said, " this wonderfully
rapid sale of a work so grave, beginning in his own town, was due in the
first instance largely to its author's great personal popularity in society,
and may be taken as a signal proof of it. For Mr. Prescott had acquired
earlier no marked reputation as an author. As a mere man of letters, his
substantial merits were known only by a few intimate friends ; perhaps not
fully appreciated by them. To the public he was little known in any way.
But he was a pi-odigious favorite with whatever was most cultivated in
the society of Boston. Few men ever had so many warmly attached per-
sonal friends. Still fewer without more or less previous distinction or
fame had ever been sought as companions by young and old of both
sexes as he had been. When, therefore, it came to be known that the
same person who had so attracted them by an extraordinary combination
of charming personal qualities was about to publish a book, and it was
known only a very short time before the book itself appeared, the fact
excited the greatest surprise, curiosity, and interest.
" The day of its appearance was looked forward to and talked of. It
came, and there was a perfect rush to get copies. A convivial friend, for
instance, who was far from being a man of letters, indeed, a person
who rarely read a book, got up early in the morning, and went to wait
for the opening of the publisher's shop, so as to secure the first copy. It
came out at Christmas, and was at once adopted as the fashionable Christ-
mas and New Year's present of the season. Those who knew the author read
it from interest in him. No one read it without surprise and delight. Mr.
Daniel Webster, the statesman, who knew Prescott well in society, was as
much surprised as the rest, and spoke of him as a comet which had sud-
denly blazed out upon the world in full splendor.
" Such is the history of this remarkable sale at its outbreak. Love of
the author gave the first impetus. That given, the extraordinary merits
of the work did all the rest."
Meantime negotiations had been going on for its publication
in London. My friend had written to me repeatedly about
them, and so unreasonably moderate were his hopes, that, at
one time, he had thought either not to publish it at all in the
United States, or to give away the work here, and make his
chief venture in England. As early as the 29th of Decem-
ber, 1835, he had written to me in Dresden, where I then
was:
102 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
" Before closing my letter, I shall detain you a little about my own
affairs. I have nearly closed my magnum opus, that is, I shall close it,
and have a copy of it printed, I trust, early next autumn. I print, you
know, only four copies, designing, whether I publish it here or not, to
have it printed in England
" Although the subject has nothing in it to touch the times and present
topics of interest and excitement particularly, yet, as filling up a blank of
importance in modern history, I cannot but think, if decently executed,
that it will not be difficult to find some publisher in London who would
be interested in it. You know that lucre is not my object. I wish, if
possible, to give the work a fair chance under fair auspices. As to the
merits of the work, it will be easy to form a judgment, since the book-
seller will have the advantage of a fair printed copy. Now I wish your
advice, how I had best proceed ? If you should be in London next win-
ter, my course would be clear. I would send the book to you, and doubt
not you would put it in a train for getting it into the world, if any
respectable accoucheur could be found to take charge of it. If you
should not be there, as is most probable, can you advise me what to do
next?
" I think it possible I may print the book here simultaneously. of-
fered the other day to take the concern off my hands, if I would give him
the first impression of a certain number of copies. As I have no illusory
hopes of a second, I don't know that I can do better. But I am persuaded
the work, if worth anything, is suited to a European market, at least,
enough to indemnify the publisher. Else ten years nearly of my life have
been thrown away indeed. I hope you will not lose your patience with
this long-winded prosing, and will excuse this egotism, from the impor-
tance of the subject to myself. As to the trouble I occasion you, I know
you too well to think you will require an apology."
To this I replied from Dresden, February 8th, 1836 :
You speak more fully about your opus magnum, and therefore I answer
more fully than I did before. It must be a proud thought to you that
you are so near the end of it ; and yet I think you will leave it with the
same feeling of regret with which Gibbon left his Decline and Fall. What,
then, will you do to fill up the first void ? Is it out of the question that
you should fetch out your copy yourself, and get the peace of conscience
that would follow making the arrangements for its publication in person ?
I hope not. For we could easily manage to meet you in England two
years hence, and I assure you, my own experience leads me to think it no
very grave matter to travel with wife and children. But let us suppose
you do not. What then ? I remain by the suggestion in my last letter,
that Colonel Aspinwall is the man to take charge of it, provided neither
you nor I should be in London, although, if both of us were on the spot,
he would be the man with whom I think we should earliest advise in all
publishing arrangements. His place as our Consul-General in London is
something in talking to publishers. His character, prompt, business-like,
firm, and honorable, is still more. And then, if I mistake not, he has a
good deal of practice with these people ; for he certainly makes Irving's
bargains, and, I believe, has managed for and others. This practice,
too, is a matter of moment."
PUBLICATION IN ENGLAND. . 103
Very fortunately for the author of Ferdinand and Isabella,
Colonel Aspinwall was soon afterwards in Boston, which is his
proper home, and in whose neighborhood he was born. He at
once undertook in the pleasantest manner the pleasant com-
mission which was offered him, and a mutual regard was the
consequence of "the connection then formed, which was never
afterwards broken or impaired ; so much was there in common
between the characters of the two high-minded and cultivated
men.
In the autumn of 1836, one of the four printed copies, care-
fully corrected, was therefore, sent to Colonel Aspinwall,
accompanied by a letter dated October 28th, in which the
author says :
" With regard to the arrangements for publication, which you have
been kind enough to allow me to trust to you, I can only say that I shall
abide entirely by your judgment. I certainly should not disdain any
profits which might flow from it, though I believe you will do me the
justice to think that I have been influenced by higher motives in the com-
position of the work. If I have succeeded, I have supplied an important
desideratum in history, but one which, I fear, has too little in it of a tem-
porary or local interest to win its way into public favor very speedily.
But if the bookseller can wait, I am sure I can."
The first attempts with the trade in London were not en-
couraging. Murray, the elder, to whom the book was at once
offered, declined promptly to become its publisher; probably
without an examination of its merits, and certainly without a
thorough one. Longman took more time, but came to the
same conclusion. The author, as might have been expected,
was chagrined, and, with the openness of his nature, said so, in
his letters both to Colonel Aspinwall and to me.
" Murray's decision," he wrote to the former, " was too prompt to bo
final with me ; but Longman has examined the matter so deliberately,
that I am convinced there is little reason to suppose the book can be
regarded as a profitable concern for a London publisher. It will un-
doubtedly prejudice the work to go a-begging for a patron, and my
ill-success will thus acquire a disagreeable notoriety not only there, but
here, where nothing is known of my foreign negotiations. I think it best,
therefore, to take Uncle Toby's advice on the occasion, and say nothing
about it to any one. For the copy in your possession, you had best put
it out of sight. It will soon be replaced by one of the Boston edition in
a more comely garb. If you should have proposed the work before re-
ceiving this to any other person, I shall not care to hear of its refusal
from you, as it will disgust me with the book before it is fairly born."
104 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
Similar feelings he expressed even more strongly two days
later. But this state of things was not destined to last long.
Before the letter which was intended to discourage any further
proposition in London had reached Colonel Aspinwall, Mr.
Richard Bentley had accepted -an offer of the book. A few
days after learning this, the author wrote to me in a very
different state of mind from that in which he had written his
last letters.
BOSTON, May 16, 1837.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
I told you in my last that no arrangement for the publication had
been made in England. I was mistaken, however, as I soon afterwards
received a letter from Colonel Aspinwall, informing me of one with
Bentley, by which he becomes proprietor of one half of the copyright,
and engages to publish forthwith an edition at his own cost and risk, and
divide with me the profits. He says, " It will be an object for him to get
out the work in elegant style, with engravings, vignettes, &c." This is
certainly much better, considering the obscurity of the author and the
absence of all temporary allusion or interest in the subject, than I had a
right to expect. My object is now attained. I shall bring out the book
in the form I desired, and under the most respectable auspices on both
sides of the water, and in a way which must interest the publisher so
deeply as to secure his exertions to circulate the work. My bark will be
fairly launched, and if it should be doomed to encounter a spiteful puff or
two of criticism, I trust it may weather it.
But he encountered no such adverse blasts. Immediately
after the appearance of the book at Christmas, 1837, but with
the imprint of 1838, a very long and able article on it by his
friend Mr. Gardiner, who, as we have seen, had just assisted in
preparing it for the press, was published in the " North-Ameri-
can Review." 2 A little later, another friend, the Rev. Mr.
Greenwood, whose name it is not possible to mention with-
out remembering what sorrow followed the early loss of one
whose genius was at once so brilliant and so tender, wrote a
review for the " Christian Examiner," no less favorable than
that of Mr. Gardiner. 8 Others followed. An excellent notice
by Mr. John Pickering appeared in the " New York Re-
view," true, careful, and discriminating. 4 And the series
of the more elaborate American discussions was closed in the
" Democratic Review " of the next month by Mr. Bancroft,
himself an historian already of no mean note, and destined to
2 January, 1838. March, 1838. * April, 1838.
REVIEWS IN ENGLAND. 105
yet more distinction on both sides of the Atlantic. Of course,
there were many other notices in periodical publications of less
grave pretensions, and still more in the newspapers ; for the
work excited an interest which had not been at all foreseen.
It was read by great numbers who seldom looked into anything
so solid and serious. It was talked of by all who ever talked
of books. Whatever was written or said about it was in one
tone and temper ; so that, as far as the United States were con-
cerned, it may be regarded as successful from the moment of
its appearance.
Nor did the notices which at the same time came from Eng-
land show anything but good-will towards the unknown and
unheralded claimant for the higher class of literary honors.
They were written, of course, by persons who had never before
heard of him, but their spirit was almost as kindly as if they
had been dictated by personal friendship. The " Athenaeum "
led off with a short laudatory article, which I believe, was from
the pen of Dr. Dunham, who wrote the summary History of
Spain and Portugal in Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia. 8 An
article, however, in the " Edinburgh Review," a little later, was
much more satisfactory. 6 It was the first examination that the
work obtained in England from one whose previous special
knowledge of the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella enabled him
to do it thoroughly. Its author was Don Pascual de Gayangos,
a learned and accomplished Spanish gentleman, then resident
in London, who wrote the Castilian and the English with equal
purity and elegance, and of whose kindly connection with Mr.
Prescott it will be necessary for me to speak often hereafter.
He made in his article on the " Ferdinand and Isabella " a faithful
and real review of the work, going over its several divisions
with care, and giving a distinct opinion on each. It was more
truly an examination of the work, and less a dissertation on
the subject, than is common in such articles, and on this account
it will always have its value.
To this succeeded in June an article in the " Quarterly Re-
view," by an English gentleman familiar with everything Span-
ish ; I mean Mr. Richard Ford, who wrote the " Handbook of
Spain," a brilliant work, not without marks of prejudice,
6 1838, pp. 42 - 44. 6 January, 1839.
5*
106 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
but full of a singularly minute and curious local knowledge
of Spain, and of Spanish history and manners. His article
on " Ferdinand and Isabella " 7 is marked with the same char-
acteristics and similar prejudices. He is obviously a little
unwilling to think that a book written with learning, judg-
ment, and good taste can come from such a Nazareth as the
United States ; but he admits it at last. Perhaps his reluctant
testimony was hardly less gratifying to the author than one
more cordial would have been.
A series of articles, however, which appeared in the " Bi-
bliotheque Universelle de Geneve " between July, 1838, and
January, 1840, five in number, and making together above
a hundred and eighty pages, gave Mr. Prescott more satis-
faction than any other review of his work. And well they
might, for no other review of the " Ferdinand and Isabella "
can be compared to it in amplitude or elaborateness. It was
written by Count Adolphe de Circourt, a person whom Lamar-
tine has called "a living chart of human knowledge." 8 It
7 June, 1839.
8 Speaking of the peculiar fitness of the appointment of this gentleman to
the very important mission at the Court of Berlin, immediately after the fall
of Louis-Philippe, in 1848, Lamartine says: " Get homme, peu connu jusques-
la hors du monde aristocratique, litte"raire, et savant, se nommait Mons. de
Circourt. II avait servi sous la Re"stauration dans la diplomatic. La revolu-
tion de Juillet 1'avait rejete" dans 1'isolement et dans 1'opposition, plus pres du
legitimisme que de la democratic. II avait profite" de ces anne"es pour se
livrer a des Etudes, qui aurient absorbe" plusieurs vies d'hommes, et qui n'etai-
ent que des distractions de la sienne. Langues, races, geographic, histoire,
philosophic, voyages, constitutions, religions des peuples depuis 1'enfance du
monde jusqu'a nos jours, depuis le Thibet jusqu'aux Alpes, il avait tout incor-
pore" en lui; tout r^fldchi; tout retenu. On pouvait 1'interroger sur Puniver-
salite des faits ou des ide*es, dont se compose le monde, sans qu'il eut besoin,
pour re"pondre, d'interroger d'autres livres que sa memoire, etendue, surface
ef profondeur immense des notions, dont jamais on ne rencontrait ni le fondj
ni les limites, mappemonde vivante des connaissances humaines, homme
ou tout etait tete et dont la tete etait a la hauteur de toutes les vdrites ; im-
partial du reste; indifferent eutre les systemes corame un etre qui rie serait
qu'intelligence, et qui ne tiendrait a la nature humaine que par le regard et
par la curiosite". Mons. de Circourt avait epouse' une jeune femme Russe, de
race aristocratique et d'un esprit European. II tenait par elle a tout ce qu'il
y avait d'eminent dans les lettres et dans les cours de 1' Allemagne et du Nord.
Lui-meme avait reside a Berlin, et il s'y etait lie avec les homines d'etat. Le
Eoi de Prusse, souverain lettre" et liberal, 1'avait honor e de quelque intimitd
a sa cour. Mons. de Circourt, sans (Jtre republican! de cosur, etait assez
frappe des grands horizons qu'une Republiquc Fnu^aise eclose du genie
REVIEW BY COUNT CIRCOURT. 107
goes in the most thorough manner over the whole subject, and
examines the difficult and doubtful points in the history of the
period with a remarkable knowledge of the original sources and
authorities. Sometimes the reviewer differs from the author ;
maintaining, for instance, that the union of the crowns of Cas-
tile and Aragon was not a benefit to Spain, and that the war
against Granada is not to be justified by the code of a Christian
civilization. And sometimes he makes additions to the History
itself, as in the case of the conquest of Navarre. But what-
ever he says is said in a philosophical spirit, and with a gener-
ous purpose ; and, coming in a foreign language from one who
knew the author only in his book, it sounds more like the voice
of posterity than either the American or the English reviews
that were contemporary with it.
progressif, et pacifique de la France nouvelle pouvait ouvrir a Pesprit hu-
main, pour la saluer et la servir. II comprenait, comme Lamartine, que la
liberte" avait besoin de la paix, et que la paix. e"tait a Berlin et a Londres."
Revolution de 1848, Livre xi. c. 13.
I have inserted these striking remarks of Lamartine on Mons. and Mad. de
Circourt, because they will appear hereafter as the friends of Mr. Prescott.
They will also be remembered by many of my readers as the intimate friends
and correspondents of De Tocqueville and Count Cavour.
CHAPTER IX.
1838.
THE AUTHOR'S FEELINGS ON THE SUCCESS OF " FERDINAND AND ISABEL-
LA." ILLNESS OF HIS MOTHER, AND HER KECOVERY. OPINIONS IN
EUROPE CONCERNING HIS HlSTORY.
PASSING over the multitude of notices that appeared con-
cerning the " History of Ferdinand and Isabella," it will
be pleasant to see how the author himself felt in the first flush
of his unexpected honors. I was then in Paris, and ten days
after the book was published in Boston he wrote to me as
follows :
" BOSTON, Jan. 6, 1838.
" MY DEAR FRIEND,
" It is long since I have seen your handwriting ; though only a few
weeks since I received a most kind and welcome epistle from Anna. Your
friends here say your are not going to hold out your four years, and I could
not help thinking that the complexion of Anna's sentiments looked rather
homeish. 1 I wish it may prove so. You will, at least, be spared, by your
return, sundry long communications from me, with a plentiful dash of
egotism in them.
" There is some excuse for this, however, just now, which is a sort of
epoch in my life, my literary life at least. Their Catholic Highnesses
have just been ushered into the world in three royal octavos. The bant-
ling appeared on a Christmas morning, and certainly has not fallen still-
born, but is alive and kicking merrily. How long its life may last is
another question. Within the first ten days half the first edition of five
hundred copies (for the publishers were afraid to risk a larger one for our
market) has been disposed of, and they are now making preparations for a
second edition, having bought of me twelve hundred and fifty copies. The
sale, indeed, seems quite ridiculous, and I fancy many a poor soul thinks
so by this time. Not a single copy has been sent South, the publishers
not choosing to strip the market while they can find such demand here.
" In the mean time the book has got summer-puff's in plenty, and a gale
to the tune of ninety pages from the old ' North American.' S face-
tiously remarked, that ' the article should be called the fourth volume of the
i I went abroad, with my family, for Mrs. Ticknor's health, in 1835, intend-
ing to stay abroad four years, if, as her physicians feared, so much time
might be necessary for her restoration. She was well in three, and we gladly
came home a few months after the date of this letter.
THE AUTHOR'S FEELINGS OF SUCCESS. 109
History.' It was written by Gardiner, after several months' industrious
application, though. eventually concocted in the very short space of ten
days, 2 which has given occasion to some oversights. It is an able, learned,
and most partial review ; and I doubt if more knowledge of the particular
subject can easily be supplied by the craft on the other side of the water,
at least without the aid of a library as germane to the matter as mine,
which, I think, will not readily be met with. I feel half inclined to send
you a beautiful critique from the pen of your friend Hillard, as much to
my taste as anything that has appeared. But pudor vetat.
" In the mean time the small journals have opened quite a cry in my
favor, and while one of yesterday claims me as a Bostonian, a Salem paper
asserts that distinguished honor for the witch-town. So you see I am ex-
periencing the fate of the Great Obscure, even in my own lifetime. And
a clergyman told me yesterday, he intended to make my case the obsta-
cles I have encountered and overcome the subject of a sermon. I told
him it would help to sell the book, at all events.
" ' Poor fellow ! ' I hear you exclaim by this time, 'his wits are
actually turned by this flurry in his native village, the Yankee Athens ! '
Not a whit, I assure you. Am I not writing to two dear friends, to whom
I can talk as freely and foolishly as to one of my own household, and who,
I am sure, will not misunderstand me ? The effect of all this which a
boy at Dr. Gardiner's school, I remember, called fungum popular itatem
has been rather to depress me, and S was saying yesterday, that sho
had never known me so out of spirits as since the book has come out.
The truth is, I appreciate, more than my critics can do, the difficulty of
doing justice to my subject, and the immeasurable distance between me
and the models with which they have been pleased to compare me
" From two things I have derived unfeigned satisfaction ; one, the de-
light of my good father, who seems disposed to swallow without the
requisite allowance of salt all the good-natured things which are said of
the book, and the other, the hearty and active kindness of the few whom,
I have thought and now find to be my friends. I feel little doubt that
the work, owing to their exertions, when it gets to the Southern cities
where I am not known, will find a fair reception, though, of course, I
cannot expect anything like the welcome it has met here. 3 I feel relieved,
however, as well as the publishers, from all apprehensions that the book
will burn their fingers, whatever it may do to the author's
" I have sent a copy for you to Rich [London], who will forward it ac-
cording to your directions. I suppose there will be no difficulty in send-
ing it over to Paris, if you remain there. Only advise him thereof.
A favorable notice in a Parisian journal of respectability would be worth
a good deal. But, after all, my market and my reputation rest principally
with England, and if your influence can secure me, not a friendly, but a
2 He had, as has been noticed, gone over the whole work before it was pub-
lished, and had done it with a continual consultation of the authorities on
which its facts and statements were founded. He was, therefore, completely
master of the subject, and wrote with an authority that few reviewers can
claim.
See ante, p. 100.
110 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
fair notice there, in any of the three or four leading journals, it would be
the best thing you ever did for me, and that is no small thing to say.
But I am asking what you will do without asking, if any foreigner could
hope to have such influence. I know that the fiat of criticism now-a-days
depends quite as much on the temper and character of the reviewer as the
reviewed, and, in a work filled with facts dug out of barbarous and obso-
lete idioms, it will be easy to pick flaws and serve them up as a sample
of the whole. But I will spare you further twaddle about their Catholic
Highnesses."
A little later, April 30, 1838, in his private Memoranda,
after giving a detailed account of the circumstances attending
its publication, the contracts for printing, and the printing
itself, all which he thus laid up for future use, he goes
on :
" Well, now for the result in America and England thus far. My
work appeared here on the 25th of December, 1837. Its birth had been
prepared for by the favorable opinions, en avance, of the few friends who
in its progress through the press had seen it. It was corrected previously
as to style, &c., by my friend Gardiner, who bestowed some weeks, and I
may say months, on its careful revision, and who suggested many impor-
tant alterations in the form. Simonds 4 had previously suggested throw-
ing" the introductory < Section 2 ' on Aragon into its present place, it first
having occupied the place after Chapter III. The work was indcfatigably
corrected, and the references most elaborately and systematically revised
by Folsom
" From the time of its appearance to the present date, it has been the
subject of notices, more or less elaborate, in the principal reviews and
periodicals of the country, and in the mass of criticism I have not met
with one unkind, or sarcastic, or censorious sentence ; and my critics have
been of all sorts, from stiff conservatives to levelling loco-focos.' Much
of all this success is to be attributed to the influence and exertions of per-
sonal friends, much to the beautiful dress and mechanical execution of
the book, and much to the novelty, in our country, of a work of research
in various foreign languages. The topics, too, though not connected with
the times, have novelty and importance in them. Whatever is the cause,
the book has found a degree of favor not dreamed of by me certainly, nor
by its warmest friends. It will, I have reason to hope, secure me an
honest fame, and what never entered into my imagination in writing
it put, in the long run, some money in my pocket.
" In Europe things wear also a very auspicious aspect so far. The
weekly periodicals the lesser lights of criticism contain the most
ample commendations on the book ; several of the articles being written
with spirit and beauty. How extensively the trade winds may have
helped me along, I cannot say. But so far the course has been smooth
4 Mr. Henry C. Simonds, who was Mr. Prescott's reader and secretary for
four years, an accomplished young scholar, for whom he felt a very sincere
regard. Mr. Simonds died two years after this date, in 1840.
RESULTS. Ill
and rapid. Bentley speaks to my friends in extravagant terms of the
book, and states that nearly half the edition, which was of seven hundred
and fifty copies, had been sold by the end of March. 5 In France, thanks
to my friend Tickuor, it has been put into the hands of the principal savans
in the Castilian. Copies have also been sent to some eminent scholars in
Germany. Thus far, therefore, we run before the wind."
I will not refuse myself the pleasure of inserting what I had
already written to him from Paris, February 20th, when, the
London copy he had sent me having failed to come to hand,
I had read the first volume of " Ferdinand and Isabella " in an
American copy which had reached a friend in that city :
" I have got hold of the first volume, and may, perchance, have the luck
to see the others. It has satisfied all my expectations ; and when I tell
you that I wrote to Colonel Aspinwall from Berlin, nearly two years ago,
placing you quite at the side of Irving, you will understand how I feel
about it. I spoke conscientiously when I wrote to Aspinwall, and I do
the same now. You have written a book that will not be forgotten. The
Dedication to your father was entirely anticipated by me, its tone and
its spirit, everything except its beautiful words. He is happy to have
received a tribute so true and so due, so worthy of him and so rarely
to be had of any."
But in the midst of the happiness which his success naturally
produced, trouble came upon him. The family had gone, as
usual, to Pepperell early in the summer of 1838, when a severe
illness of his mother brought them suddenly back to town, and
kept them there above two months, at the end of which she
was happily restored, or nearly so.
" Moved from Pepperell," he says in his private Memoranda, " prema-
turely, June 26th, on account of the distressing illness of my mother, which
still, July 16th, detains us in this pestilent place, amidst heats which would
do credit to the tropics. The same cause has prevented me from giving
nearly as many hours to my studies as I should otherwise have done, being
in rather an industrious mood. My mother's health, apparently improv-
ing, may permit me to do this."
But the next notice, July 27th, is more comfortable :
" Been a month now in Boston, which I find more tolerable than at first.
The heat has much abated, and, indeed, a summer residence here has many
alleviations. But I should never prefer it to a summer at Nahant. Have
received an English copy of 'Ferdinand and Isabella.' Better paper,
6 Mr. Bentley had requested me to tell Mr. Prescott that he was proud of
having published such a book, and that he thought it would prove the best
he had ever brought out.
112 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
blacker ink, more showy pages, but, on the whole, not so good type, and,
as the printer did not receive the corrections in season for the last three
chapters, there are many verbal inaccuracies. The plates are good, the
portrait of Columbus exquisite, and about as much like him, I suppose,
as any other. On the whole, Bentley has done fairly by the work. My
friend Ticknor brings me home a very favorable report of the opinions
expressed of the work by French and English scholars. If this report is
not colored by his own friendship, the book will take some rank on the
other side of the water."
As he intimates, I was just then returned from Europe after
an absence of three years. He met me at the cars on my
arrival from New York, where I had landed ; but his counte-
nance was sad and troubled with the dangerous illness of his
mother, then at its height. I saw him, however, daily, and
talked with him in the freest and fullest manner about his
literary position and prospects ; giving him, without exaggera-
tion, an account of the opinions held in England and France
concerning his work, which he could not choose but find very
gratifying.
I had, in fact, received the book itself before I left Paris,
and had given copies of it to M. Guizot, M. Mignet, Count
Adolphe de Circourt, and M. Charles Fauriel. "The last three,
as well as some other friends, had expressed to me their high
estimation of it, in terms very little measured, which were, in
their substance, repeated to me later by M. Guizot, when he
had had leisure to read it. Four persons better qualified to
judge the merits of such a work could not, I suppose, have
then been found in France ; and the opinion of Count Circourt,
set forth in the learned and admirable review already alluded
to, would, I think, subsequently have been accepted by any one
of them as substantially his own.
. In England, where I passed the spring and early summer,
I found the same judgment was pronounced and pronouncing.
At Holland House, then the highest tribunal in London on the
subject of Spanish history and literature, Lord Holland and
Mr. John Allen, who were both just finishing its perusal, did
not conceal from me the high value they placed upon it ; Mr.
Allen telling me that he regarded the introductory sections on
the constitutional history of Aragon and Castile which, it
will be remembered, were three times written over, and twice
OPINION IN ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 113
printed, before they were finally given to the press for publica-
tion as possessing a very high merit as statesmanlike discus-
sions, and as better than anything else extant on the same
subject. 6 Southey, whom I afterwards saw at Keswick, and
from whose judgment on anything relating to Spanish history
few would venture to appeal, volunteered to me an opinion no
less decisive. 7
The more important Eeviews had not yet spoken ; but, re-
membering the wish expressed by my friend in a letter to me
already cited, though, as he intimated, not needing such an
expression, I made, through the ready kindness of Lord
Holland, arrangements with Mr. McVey Napier, the editor of
the " Edinburgh Review," for the article in that journal by
Don Pascual de Gayangos, of which an account has already
been given. Mr. Lockhart, the Aristarch of the " Quarterly
Review," had not read the book when I spoke to him about it,
but he told me he had heard from good authority that " it was
one that would last " ; and the result of his own examination
of it was Mr. Ford's review, Mr. Ford himself having been,
I suppose, the authority referred to. Mr. Hallam, to whom I
sent a copy in the author's name, acknowledged its receipt in
a manner the most gratifying, and so did Mr. Milman ; both
of these distinguished and admirable men becoming afterwards
personally attached to Mr. Prescott, and corresponding with
him, from time to time, until his death. These, and some
others like them, were the suffrages that I bore to my friend
on my return home early in July, and to which, in the pas-
sages I have cited from his Memoranda, he alludes. They
were all of one temper and in one tone. I had heard of no
others, and had, therefore, no others to give him. At home
6 I ought, perhaps, to add here, that, by common consent of the scholars of
the time, the opinion of no man in England, on such a point, would have
been placed before Mr. Allen's.
7 Mr. Prescott was especially gratified with this opinion of Mr. Southey,
because he had much feared that the rejection of his book by the Longmans
was the result of advice from Southey, whose publishers they were, and who
was often consulted by them respecting the publication of such works. But
the Longmans declined it, as Southey himself told me, only because they did
not, at the time, wish to increase their list of new publications. The same
cause, I subsequently understood, had governed the decision of Murray, who
did not even give the book to anybody for getting a judgment on its tnerits.
114 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
its success, I found, was already fully assured. As Dr. Chan-
ning had told him, " Your book has been received here with
acclamation." 8
8 A year after its publication, the author records very naturally, among
his private Memoranda: " Dec. 25, 1838. The anniversary of the appearance
of their Catholic Highnesses Ferdinand and Isabella, God bless them ! What
would I have given 'last year to know they would have run off so glibly? "
I think about twenty-eight hundred copies had been sold in the United States
when this record was made, only a foretaste of the subsequent success.
On the 1st of January, 1860, the aggregate sales in the United States and
England amounted to seventeen thousand seven hundred and thirty-one.
CHAPTER X.
1837-1838.
MB. PRESCOTT'S CHARACTER AT THIS PERIOD. EFFECT OP HIS INFIRM-
ITY OF SIGHT IN FORMING IT. NOCTOGRAPH. DISTRIBUTION OF ma
DAY. CONTRIVANCES FOR REGULATING THE LIGHT IN HIS ROOM.
PREMATURE DECAY OF SIGHT. EXACT " SYSTEM OF EXERCISE AND
LIFE GENERALLY. FlRM WlLL IN CARRYING IT OUT.
WHEN the "Ferdinand and Isabella" was published,
in the winter of 1837-8, its author was nearly forty-
two years old. His character, some of whose traits had been
prominent from childhood, while others had been slowly devel-
oped, was fully formed. His habits were settled for life. He
had a perfectly well-defined individuality, as everybody knew
who knew anything about his occupations and ways.
Much of what went to constitute this individuality was the
result of his infirmity of sight, and of the unceasing struggle
he had made to overcome the difficulties it entailed upon
him. For, as we shall see hereafter, the thought of this
infirmity, and of the embarrassments it brought with it, was
ever before him. It colored, and in many respects it controlled,
his whole life.
The violent inflammation that resulted from the fierce attack
of rheumatism in the early months of 1815 first startled him,
I think, with the apprehension that he might possibly be
deprived of sight altogether, and that thus his future years
would be left in " total eclipse, without all hope of day."
But from this dreary apprehension, his recovery, slow, and
partial as it was, and the buoyant spirits that entered so largely
into his constitution, at last relieved him. He even, from time
to time, as the disease fluctuated to and fro, had hopes of an
entire restoration ,of his sight.
But before long, he began to judge things more exactly as
they were, and saw plainly that anything like a full recovery
116 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
of his sight was improbable, if not impossible. He turned his
thoughts, therefore, to the resources that would still remain
to him. The prospect was by no means a pleasant one, but
he looked at it steadily and calmly. All thought of the profes-
sion which had long been so tempting to him he gave up. He
saw that he could never fulfil its duties. But intellectual
occupation he could not give up. It was a gratification and
resource which his nature demanded, and would not be refused.
The difficulty was to find out how it could be obtained. During
the three months of his confinement in total darkness at St.
Michael's, he first began to discipline his thoughts to such
orderly composition in his memory as he might have written
down on paper, if his sight had permitted it. " I have cheated,"
he says, in a letter to his family written at the end of that dis-
couraging period, "I have cheated many a moment of tedium
by compositions which were soon banished from my mind for
want of an amanuensis."
Among these compositions was a Latin ode to his friend
Gardiner, which was prepared wholly without books, but
which, though now lost, like the rest of his Latin verses, he
repeated years afterwards to his Club, who did not fail to think
it good. It is evident, however, that, for a considerable time,
he resorted to such mental occupations and exercises rather as
an amusement than as anything more serious. Nor did he at
first go far with them even as a light and transient relief from
idleness ; for, though he never gave them up altogether, and
though they at last became a very important element in his
success as an author, he soon found an agreeable substitute for
them, at least so far as his immediate, every-day wants were
concerned.
The substitute to which I refer, but which itself implied
much previous reflection and thought upon what he should
commit to paper, was an apparatus to enable the blind to
write. He heard of it in London during his first residence
there in the summer of 1816. A lady, at whose house he
visited frequently, arid who became interested in his misfortune,
*' told him," as he says in a letter to his mother. " of a newly
invented machine by which blind people are enabled to write.
I have," he adds, " before been indebted to Mrs. Delafield for
*
NOCTOGRAPH. 117
an ingenious candle-screen. If this machine can be procured,
you will be sure to feel the effects of it."
He obtained it at once ; but he did not use it until nearly a
month afterwards, when, on the 24th of August, at Paris, he
wrote home his first letter with it, saying, " It is a very happy
invention for me." And such it certainly proved to be, for he
never ceased to use it from that day ; nor does it now seem
possible that, without the facilities it afforded him, he ever
would have ventured to undertake any of the works which
have made his name what it is. 1
The machine if machine it can properly be called is
an apparatus invented by one of the well-known Wedgewood
family, and is very simple both in its structure and use. It
looks, as it lies folded up on the table, like a clumsy portfolio,
bound in morocco, and measures about ten inches by nine
when unopened. Sixteen stout parallel brass wires fastened on
the right-hand side into a frame of the same size with the cover,
much like the frame of a school-boy's slate, and crossing it
from side to side, mark the number of lines that can be written
on a page, and guide the hand in its blind motions. This
framework of wires is folded down upon a sheet of paper
thoroughly impregnated with a black substance, especially on
its under surface, beneath which lies the sheet of common
paper that is to receive the writing. There are thus, when
it is in use, three layers on the right-hand side of the opened
apparatus ; viz. the wires, the blackened sheet of paper, and
the white sheet, all lying successively in contact with each
other, the two that are underneath being held firmly in their
places by the framework of wires which is uppermost. The
whole apparatus is called a noctograph. .
When it has been adjusted, as above described, the person
using it writes with an ivory style, or with a style made of
some harder substance, like agate, on the upper surface of the
blackened paper, which, wherever the style presses on it, trans-
i This very apparatus, the first he ever had, it still extant. Indeed, he never
possessed but one other, and that was its exact duplicate. The oldest is
nearly used up. But, although he never had more than two for himself, he
caused others to be made for persons suffering under infirmities like his own,
not unfrequently sending them to those, who were known to him only as
needing such help.
118 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
fers the coloring matter of its under surface to the white paper
beneath it, the writing thus produced looking much like that
done with a common black-lead pencil.
The chief difficulty in the use of such an apparatus is obvi-
ous. The person employing it never looks upon his work ;
never sees one of the marks he is making. He trusts wholly
to the wires for the direction of his hand. He makes his
letters and words only from mechanical habit. He must,
therefore, write straight forward, without any opportunity for
correction, however gross may be the mistakes he has made, or
however sure he may be that he has made them ; for, if he
were to go back in order to correct an error, he would only
make his page still more confused, and probably render it quite
illegible. When, therefore, he has made a mistake, great or
small, all he can do is to go forward, and rewrite further on
the word or phrase he first intended to write, rarely attempt-
ing to strike out what was wrong, or to insert, in its proper
place, anything that may have been omitted. It is plain,
therefore, that the person who resorts to this apparatus as a
substitute for sight ought previously to prepare and settle in
his memory what he wishes to write, so as to make as few
mistakes as possible. With the best care, his manuscript will
not be very legible. Without it, he may be sure it can hardly
be deciphered at all.
That Mr. Prescott, under his disheartening infirmities, I
refer not only to his imperfect sight, but to the rheumatism
from which he was seldom wholly free, should, at the age
of five-and-twenty or thirty, with no help but this simple
apparatus, have aspired to the character of an historian dealing
with events that happened in times and countries far distant
from his own, and that are recorded chiefly in foreign languages
and by authors whose conflicting testimony was often to be
reconciled by laborious comparison, is a remarkable fact in
literary history. It is a problem the solution of which was,
I believe, never before undertaken ; certainly never before
accomplished. Nor do I conceive that he himself could have
accomplished it, unless to his uncommon intellectual gifts had
been added great animal spirits, a strong, persistent will, and a
moral courage which was to be daunted by no obstacle that
ADVENTUROUS SPIRIT. 119
he might deem it possible to remove by almost any amount of
effort. 2
That he was not insensible to the difficulties of his under-
taking, we have partly seen, as we have witnessed how his hopes
fluctuated while he was struggling through the arrangements
for beginning to write his " Ferdinand and Isabella," and, in
fact, during the whole period of its composition. But he
showed the same character, the same fertility of resource, every
day of his life, and provided, both by forecast and self-sacrifice,
against the embarrassments of his condition as they successively
presented themselves.
The first thing to be done, and the thing always to be re-
peated day by day, was to strengthen, as much as possible, what
remained of his sight, and at any rate, to do nothing that should
tend to exhaust its impaired powers. In 1821, when he was
still not without some hope of its recovery, he made this mem-
orandum. " I will make it my principal purpose to restore
my eye to its primitive vigor, and will do nothing habitually
that can seriously injure it." To this end he regulated his
life with an exactness that I have never known equalled.
Especially in whatever related to the daily distribution of his
time, whether in regard to his intellectual labors, to his social
enjoyments, or to the care of his physical powers, including his
diet, he was severely exact, managing himself, indeed, in this
last respect, under the general directions of his wise medical
adviser, Dr. Jackson, but carrying out these directions with an
ingenuity and fidelity all his own.
He was an early riser, although it was a great effort for him
to be such. From boyhood it seemed to be contrary to his
nature to get up betimes in the morning. He was, therefore,
always awaked, and after silently, and sometimes slowly and
with reluctance, counting twenty, so as fairly to arouse himself,
2 The case of Thierry the nearest known to me was different. His
great work, " Histoire de la Conquete de 1'Angleterre par les Normands,"
was written before he became blind. What he published afterward was dic-
tated, wonderful, indeed, all of it, but especially all that relates to what he
did for the commission of the government concerning the Tiers l!tat, to be
found in that grand collection of " Documents ine'dits surl'Histoire de France,"
begun under the auspices and influence of M. Guizot, when he was minister
of Louis-Philippe.
120 WILLIAM HICKLLXG PKESCOTT.
he resolutely sprang out of bed ; or, if he failed, he paid a for-
feit, as a memento of his weakness, to the servant who had
knocked at his chamber-door. 3 His failures, however, were rare.
When he was called, he was told the state of the weather and
of the thermometer. This was important, as he was compelled
by his rheumatism almost always present, and, when not
so, always apprehended to regulate his dress with care ; and,
finding it difficult to do so in any other way, he caused each
of its heavier external portions to be marked by his tailor
with the number of ounces it weighed, and then put them on
according to the temperature, sure that their weight would
indicate the measure of warmth and protection they would
afford. 4
As soon as he was dressed, he took his early exercise in the
open air. This, for many years, was done on horseback, and,
as he loved a spirited horse and was often thinking more of his
intellectual pursuits than of anything else while he was riding,
he sometimes caught a fall. But he was a good rider, and was
sorry to give up this form of exercise and resort to walking or
driving, as he did, by order of his physician, in the last dozen
years of his life. No weather, except a severe storm, pre-
vented him at any period from thus, as he called it, " winding
himself up." Even in the coldest of our very cold winter
mornings, it was his habit, so long as he could ride, to see the
sun rise on a particular spot three or four miles from town. In
a letter to Mrs. Ticknor, who was then in Germany, dated
March, 1836, at the end of a winter memorable for its ex-
treme severity, he says, " You will give me credit for some
spunk when I tell you that I have not been frightened by the
cold a single morning from a ride on horseback to Jamaica
Plain and back again before breakfast. My mark has been
8 When he was a bachelor, the servant, after waiting a certain number of
minutes at the door without receiving an answer, went in and took away the
bed-clothes. This was, at that period, the office of faithful Nathan Webster,
who was remembered kindly in Mr. Prescott's will, and who was for nearly
thirty years in the family, a true and valued friend of all its members.
4 As in the case of the use of wine, hereafter to be noticed, he made, from
year to year, the most minute memoranda about the use of clothes, finding it
necessary to be exact on account of the rheumatism which, besides almost
constantly infesting his limbs, always affected his sight, when it became
eevere.
SYSTEMATIC EXERCISE. 121
to see the sun rise by Mr. Greene's school, if you remember
where that is." When the rides here referred to were taken,
the thermometer was often below zero of Fahrenheit.
On his return home, after adjusting his dress anew, with ref-
erence to the temperature within doors, he sat down, almost
always in a very gay humor, to a moderate and even spare
breakfast, a meal he much liked, because, as he said, he
could then have his family with him in a quiet way, and so
begin the day happily. From the breakfast-table he went at
once to his study. There, while busied with what remained of
his toilet, or with the needful arrangements for his regular oc-
cupations, Mrs. Prescott read to him, generally from the morn-
ing papers, but sometimes from the current literature of the
day. At a fixed hour seldom later than ten his reader,
or secretary, came. In this, as in everything, he required
punctuality ; but he noted tardiness only by looking significantly
at his watch ; for it is the testimony of all his surviving secre-
taries, that he never spoke a severe word to either of them in
the many years of their familiar intercourse.
When they had met in the study, there was no thought but
of active work for about three hours. 5 His infirmities, how-
ever, were always present to warn him how cautiously it must
be done, and he was extremely ingenious in the means he de-
vised for doing it without increasing them. The shades and
shutters for regulating the exact amount of light which should
be admitted ; his own position relatively to its direct rays, and
to those that were reflected from surrounding objects; the
adaptation of his dress and of the temperature of the room
to his rheumatic affections ; and the different contrivances for
taking notes from the books that were read to him, and for
impressing on his memory, with the least possible use of his
sight, such portions of each as were needful for his imme-
5 I speak here of the time during which he was busy with his Histories. In
the intervals between them, as, for instance, between the " Ferdinand and
Isabella" and the " Mexico," between the " Mexico " and "Peru," &c., his
habits were very different. At these periods he indulged, sometimes for
many months, in a great deal of light, miscellaneous reading, which he used
to call " literary loafing." This he thought not only agreeable, but refreshing
and useful ; though sometimes he complained bitterly of himself for carrying
his indulgences of this sort too far.
6
122 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
diate purpose, were all of them the result of painstaking
experiments, skilfully and patiently made. But their inge-
nuity and adaptation were less remarkable than the conscien-
tious consistency with which they were employed from day to
day for forty years.
In relation to all such arrangements, two circumstances
should be noted.
The first is, that the resources of his eye were always very
small and uncertain, except for a few years, beginning in 1840,
when, from his long-continued prudence or from some inscruta-
ble cause, there seemed to' be either an increase of strength
in the organ, or else such a diminution of its sensibility as en-
abled him to use it more, though its strength might really be
diminished.
Thus, for instance, he was able to use his eye very little in
the preparation of the " Ferdinand and Isabella," not looking
into a book sometimes for weeks and even months together,
and yet occasionally he could read several hours in a day if he
carefully divided the whole into short portions, so as to avoid
fatigue. While engaged in the composition of the " Conquest
of Mexico," on the contrary, he was able to read with consider-
able regularity, and so he was while working on the " Conquest
of Peru," though, on the whole, with less. 6
But he had, during nearly all this time, another difficulty to
encounter. There had come on prematurely that gradual
alteration of the eye which is the consequence of advancing
years, and for which the common remedy is spectacles. Even
when he was using what remained to him of sight on the
8 How uncertain was the state of his eye, even when it was strongest, may
be seen from memoranda made at different times within less than two years
of each other. The first is in January, 1829, when he was full of grateful
feelings for an unexpected increase of his powers of sight. " By the blessing
of Heaven," he says, " I have been enabled to have the free use of my eye
in the daytime during the last weeks, without the exception of a single
day, although deprived, for nearly a fortnight, of my accustomed exercise.
I hope I have not abused this great privilege." But this condition of
things did not last long. _ Great fluctuations followed. In August and Sep-
tember he was much discouraged by severe inflammations; and in October,
1830, when he had been slowly writing the " Ferdinand and Isabella " for
about a year, his sight for a time became so much impaired that he was
brought^ I use his own words " seriously to consider what steps he should
take in relation to that work, if his sight should fail him altogether."
UNCERTAIN CONDITION OF HIS SIGHT. 123
u Conquest of Mexico " with a freedom which not a little ani-
mated him in his pursuits, he perceived this discouraging
change. In July, 1841, he says: "My eye, for some days,
feels dim. l I gueSvS and fear,' as Burns says." And in June,
1842, when our families were spending together at Lebanon
Springs a few days which he has recorded as otherwise very
happy, he spoke to me more than once in a tone of absolute
grief, that he should never again enjoy the magnificent specta-
cle of the starry heavens. To this sad deprivation he, in fact,
alludes himself in his Memoranda of that period, where, in re-
lation to his eyes, he says: "I find a misty yeil increasing
over them, quite annoying when reading. The other evening
B said, * How beautiful the heavens are with so many
stars ! ' I could hardly see two. It made me sad."
Spectacles, however, although they brought their appropriate
relief, brought also an inevitable inconvenience. They fatigued
his eye. He could use it, therefore, less and less, or if he used
it at all, beyond a nicely adjusted amount, the excess was
followed by a sort of irritability, weakness, and pain in the
organ which he had not felt for many years. This went on
increasing with sad regularity. But he knew that it was
inevitable, and submitted to it patiently. In the latter part of
his life he was able to use his eye very little indeed for the
purpose of reading, in the last year, hardly at all. Even in
several of the years preceding, he used it only thirty-five minutes
in each day, divided exactly by the watch into portions of five
minutes each, with at least half an hour between, and always
stopping the moment pain was felt, even if it were felt at the
first instant of opening the book. I doubt whether a more per-
sistent, conscientious care was ever taken of an impaired physi-
cal power. Indeed, I do not see how it could have been made
more thorough. .But all care was unavailing, and he at last
knew that it was so. The decay could not be arrested. He
spoke of it rarely, but when he perceived that in the evening
twilight he could no longer walk about the streets that were
familiar to him with his accustomed assurance, he felt it
deeply. Still he persevered, and was as watchful of what
remained of his sight as if his hopes of its restoration had
continued unchecked. Indeed, I think he always trusted that
124 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
he was saving something by his anxious care ; he always be-
lieved that great prudence on one day would enable him to do
a little more work on the next than he should be able to do
without so much caution.
The other circumstance that should be noticed in relation
to the arrangements for his pursuits is, the continually in-
creased amount of light he was obliged to use, and which he
could use without apparent injury.
In Bedford Street, where he first began his experiments,
he could, from the extreme sensitiveness of his eye, bear very
little light. But, even before he left that quiet old mansion,
he cut out a new window in his working-room, arranging it so
that the light should fall more strongly and more exclusively
upon the book he might be using. This did very well for
a time. But when he removed to Beacon Street, the room
he built expressly for his own use contained six contiguous
windows ; two of which, though large, were glazed each with a
single sheet of the finest plate-glass, nicely protected by several
curtains of delicate fabric and of a light-blue color, one or
more of which could be drawn up over each window to tem-
per the light while the whole light that was admitted through
any one opening could be excluded by solid wooden shutters.
At first, though much light was commonly used, these appli-
ances for diminishing it were all more or less required. But,
gradually, one after another of them was given up, and, at last,
I observed that none was found important. He needed and
used all the light he could get.
The change was a sad one, and he did not like to allude to
it. But during the last year of his life, after the first slight
access of paralysis, which much disturbed the organ for a time,
and rendered its action very irregular, he spoke plainly to me.
He said he must soon cease to use his ey<; for any purpose
of study, but fondly trusted that he should always be able to
recognize the features of his friends, and should never become
a burden to those he loved by needing to be led about. His
hopes were, indeed, fulfilled, but not without the sorrow of
all. The day before his sudden death he walked the streets as
freely as he had done for years.
Still, whatever may have been the condition of his eye at
CHANGE IN THE STATE OF THE EYE. 125
any period, from the fierce attack of 1815 to the very end
of his life, it was always a paramount subject of anxiety
with him. He never ceased to think of it, and to regulate
the hours, and almost the minutes, of his daily life by it.
Even in its best estate he felt that it must be spared ; in its
worst, he was anxious to save something by care and abstinence.
He said, " he reckoned time by eyesight, as distances on rail-
roads are reckoned by hours."
One thing in this connection may be noted as remarkable.
He knew that, if he would give up literary labor altogether,
his eye would be better at once, and would last longer. His
physicians all told him so, and their opinion was rendered
certain by his own experience ; for whenever he ceased to
work for some time, as during a visit to New York in 1842
and a visit to Europe in 1850, in short, whenever he took a
journey or indulged himself in holidays of such a sort as pre-
vented him from looking into books at all or thinking much
about them, his general health immediately became more
vigorous than might have been expected from a relief so tran-
sient, and his sight was always improved ; sometimes materially
improved. But he would not pay the price. He preferred to
submit, if it should be inevitable, to the penalty of ultimate
blindness, rather than give up his literary pursuits.
He never liked to work more than three hours consecutively.
At one o'clock, therefore, he took a walk of about two miles,
and attended to any little business abroad that was incumbent
on him, coming home generally refreshed and exhilarated, and
ready to lounge a little and gossip. Dinner followed, for the
greater part of his life about three o'clock, although, during a
few years, he dined in winter at five or six, which he preferred,
and which he gave up only because his health demanded the
change. In the summer he always dined early, so as to have the
late afternoon for driving and exercise during our hot season.
He enjoyed the pleasures of the table, and even its luxuries,
more than most men. But he restricted himself carefully in
the use of them, adjusting everything with reference to its.
effect on the power of using his eye immediately afterwards, and
especially on his power of using it the next day. Occasional
indulgence when- dining out or with friends at home he found
126 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
useful, or at least not injurious, and was encouraged in it fay his
medical counsel. But he dined abroad, as he did everything
of the sort, at regulated intervals, and not only determined be-
forehand in what he should deviate from his settled habits, but
often made a record of the result for his future government.
The most embarrassing question, however, as to diet, regard-
ed the use of wine, which, if at first it sometimes seemed to be
followed by bad consequences, was yet, on the whole, found use-
ful, and was prescribed to him. To make everything certain,
and settle the precise point to which he should go, he instituted
a series of experiments, and between March, 1818, and Novem-
ber, 1820, a period of two years and nine months, he re-
corded the exact quantity of wine that he took every day,
except the few days when he entirely abstained. It was
Sherry or Madeira. In the great majority of cases four
fifths, I should think it ranged from one to two glasses,
but went up sometimes to four or five, and even to six. He
settled at last, upon two or two and a half as the quantity best
suited to his case, and persevered in this as his daily habit, until
the last year of his life, during which a peculiar regimen was
imposed upon him from the peculiar circumstances of his health.
In all this I wish to be understood that he was rigorous with
himself, much more so than persons thought who saw him
only when he was dining with friends, and when, but equally
upon system and principle, he was much more free.
He generally smoked a single weak cigar after dinner, and
listened at the same time to light reading from Mrs. Prescott.
A walk of two miles more or less followed ; but always
enough, after the habit of riding was given up, to make the
full amount of six miles' walking for the day's exercise, and
then, between five and eight, he took a cup of tea, and had his
reader with him for work two hours more.
The labors of the day were now definitively ended. He
came down from his study to his library, and either sat there
or walked about while Mrs. Prescott read to him from some
amusing book, generally a novel, and, above all other novels,
those of Scott and Miss Edgeworth. In all this he took great
solace. He enjoyed the room as well as the reading, and, as he
moved about, would often stop before the books, especially
HABITS. 127
his favorite books, and be sure that they were all in their
proper places, drawn up exactly to the front of their respective
shelves, like soldiers on a dress-parade, sometimes speaking
of them, and almost to them, as if they were personal friends.
At half past ten, having first taken nearly another glass of
wine, he went to bed, fell asleep quickly, and slept soundly and
well. Suppers he early gave up, although they were a form of
social intercourse much liked in his father's house, and common
thirty or forty years ago in the circle to which he belonged.
Besides all other reasons against them, he found that the lights
commonly on the table shot their horizontal rays so as to in-
jure his suffering organ. Larger evening parties, which were
not so liable to this objection, he liked rather for their social in-
fluences than for the pleasure they gave him ; but he was seen
in them to the last, though rarely and only for a short time in
each. Earlier in life, when he enjoyed them more and stayed
later, he would, in the coldest winter nights, after going home,
run up and down on a plank walk, so arranged in the garden
of the Bedford-Street house that he could do it with his eyes
shut, for twenty minutes or more, in order that his system might
be refreshed, and his sight invigorated, for the next morning's
work. 7 Later, unhappily, this was not needful. His eye had
lost the sensibility that gave its value to such a habit.
In his exercise, at all its assigned hours, he was faithful and
exact. If a violent storm prevented him from going out,
or if the bright snow on sunny days in winter rendered it dan-
gerous for him to expose his eye to its brilliant reflection, he
would dress himself as for the street and walk vigorously
about the colder parts of the house, or he would saw and chop
fire-wood, under cover, being, in the latter case*, read to all the
while.
The result he sought, and generally obtained, by these efforts
was not, however, always to be had without suffering. The
1 Some persons may think this to have been a fancy of my friend, or an
over-nice estimate of the value of the open air. But others have found the
same benefit who needed it less. Sir Charles Bell says, in his journal, that he
used to sit in the open air a great deal, and read or draw, because on the fol-
lowing day, he found himself so much better able to work. Some of the best
passages in his great treatises we're, he says, written under these circum-
stances.
128 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
first mile or two of his walk often cost him pain sometimes
sharp pain in consequence of the rheumatism, which seldom
deserted his limbs ; but he never on this account gave it up ;
for regular exercise in the open air was, as he well knew,
indispensable to the preservation of whatever remained of his
decaying sight. He persevered, therefore, through the last
two suffering years of his life, when it was peculiarly irksome
and difficult for him to move ; and even in the days imme-
diately preceding his first attack of paralysis, when he was
very feeble, he was out at his usual hours. His will, in truth,
was always stronger than the bodily ills that beset him, and
prevailed over them to the last. 8
8 On one occasion, when he was employed upon a work that interested him
because it related to a friend, he was attacked with pains that made a sitting
posture impossible. But he would not yield. He took his noctograph to a
sofa, and knelt before it so as to be able to continue his work. This resource,
however, failed, and then he laid himself down flat upon the floor. This
extraordinary operation went on during portions of nine successive days.
CHAPTER XI.
1837-1838.
MR. PRESCOTT'S SOCIAL, CHARACTER. REMARKS ON IT BY MR. GARDI-
NER AND MR. PARSONS.
A TRUE and sufficient understanding of Mr. Prescott's
modes of life cannot be obtained without a more de-
tailed account than has been thus far given of his social
relations, and of the exactness with which he controlled and
governed them.
" Never was there," says his friend Mr. Gardiner, in an interesting paper
addressed to me, on this side of our friend's character, "Never was there
a man, who, by natural constitution, had a keener zest of social enjoyment
in all its varieties. His friend Mr. Parsons says of him, that one of the
' most remarkable traits of this remarkable man was his singular capacity
of enjoyment. He could be happy in more ways, and more happy in
every one of them, than any other person I have ever known.' This may
be a strong manner of stating the characteristic referred to ; but so far as
respects one of his chief sources of happiness, social enjoyment, the
idea would seem to be exemplified by the very different kinds of society
from which he appeared to derive almost equal pleasure.
" So, in regard to his capacity of imparting pleasure to others, Mr.
Parsons makes an equally strong statement ; but it is one I fully concur
in. If I were asked/ he says, ' to name the man, whom I have known,
whose coming was most sure to be hailed as a pleasant event by all whom
he approached, I should not only place Prescott at the head of the list, but
I could not place any other man near him.' I also must bear testimony,
that I never have known any other man whose company was so univer-
sally attractive, equally so to men and to women, to young and to offl,
and to all classes that he mingled with.
" With these capacities for both giving and receiving the highest degree
of pleasure in social entertainment, there is no cause for wonder that this
should have been with him a favorite pursuit. The wonder is, rather, that
he should always at least after the first effervescence of youth have
kept it in such perfect subordination to those more important pursuits
which were the business, and at the same time, on the whole, the highest
enjoyment, of his life. I use the term pursuit, applying it to the one ob-
ject no less than the other ; for this it is which constitutes the peculiarity.
Both were pursued at the same time, ardently and systematically. Neither
was sacrificed to the other for any great length of time. He felt that a due
6* I
130 WILLIAM' HICKLING PRESCOTT.
proportion of each literary labor and social amusement was essential
to his happiness, and he studied the philosophy of life, both theoretically
and practically, with reference to his own natural temper and constitution,
to ascertain in what proportions they could best be combined to answer his
whole purpose.
" These proportions varied certainly at different times. There was a
natural tendency of the graver pursuits to predominate more and more as
he advanced in age, but never to the entire exclusion of a perfectly youth-
ful enjoyment of whatever society he sought. There were, too, periods
of close retirement, chiefly during his vittegiaturas as he used to call his
country life, when he devoted himself, for a time almost exclusively, to
his studies and compositions, with little addition to the agreeable social
circle and quiet domestic life of his own and his father's family. But there
were also corresponding periods of great relaxation, what he used to call
Ids ' loafing times,' not always of short duration either, especially in
the interval between one long labor finished and the beginning of another.
At these periods he gave himself up to a long holiday, dividing his time
almost wholly between the lightest literature and a great deal of social
amusement. There was usually something of this, though for a shorter
term, when he first returned to the city, after a summer or autumn cam-
paign at Pepperell. And seldom, when away from Pepperell, was he so
hard at work as not to enjoy an ample allowance of social pleasure. Nay,
at the period of his life when he used to pass a long summer, as well as
autumn, at Pepperell, that is, before either he or his father had a house
orr the sea-shore, it was his custom to find an excuse for an occasional
visit of a day or two to the city,>when he always arranged for, and counted
upon, at least one gay meeting of old friends at the dinner-table. After
he became a summer inhabitant of Nahant, living in the unavoidable pub-
licity of a fashionable watering-place, the difficulty was to guard against
the intrusion of too much company, rather than to get the quantum he
required. This was among the causes which led him, in later years, to
forsake Nahant for his more quiet sea-shore residence at Lynn. But,
wherever his residence was, frequent recreations of society domestic,
fashionable, literary, and convivial were as much a part of his plan of
life as the steady continuance of historical studies and labors of authorship.
" Yet, both before and after the publication of his ' Ferdinand and Isa-
bella/ the first notice, be it remembered, even to his personal friends,
of his extraordinary merits as a man of letters, he was scrupulously
observant of hours. Though indulging so freely, and with such a zest, in
this round of various society, he would never -allow himself to be drawn
by it into very late sittings. This was partly, no doubt, from domestic
considerations regarding the general habit of his father's household, con-
tinued afterwards in his own, but mainly because he began the day carlv,
and chose to keep his study hours of the morrow unimpaired. Except,
therefore, on some extraordinary and foreseen occasions of his earlier days,
carefully arranged for beforehand, he used to make a point of quitting the
company, of whatever kind, and whatever might be its attractions, at his
hour. This was, for a long time, ten o'clock. It did not mean ten o'clock
or thereabouts, as most men would have made it ; but at ten precisely he
would insist on going, in spite of all entreaty, as if to an engagement of
the last importance.
SOCIAL CHARACTER. 131
" I remember particularly one instance to illustrate this. It occurred at
some time while he was yet a member of his father's family, but, I think,
after his marriage, and certainly before he had published himself to the
world as an author, that is, while he was scarcely known to many persons
as one engaged in any serious occupation. The case left an impression,
because on this occasion Mr. Prescott, though not in his own house, was
not a guest, but the entertainer, at a restaurateur's, of an invited company
of young men, chiefly of the bon-vivant order. He took that mode some-
times of giving a return dinner to avoid intruding too much on the hospi-
tality of his father's roof, as well as to put at ease the sort of company
which promised exuberant mirth. His dinner hour was set early ; pur-
posely, no doubt, that all might be well over in good season. But it
proved to be a prolonged festivity. Under the brilliant auspices of their
host, who was never in higher spirits, the company became very gay, and
not at all disposed to abridge their gayety, even after a reasonable number
of hours. As the hour of ten drew near, I noticed that Prescott was be-
ginning to get a little fidgety, and to drop some hints, which no one seemed
willing to take, for no one present, unless it were myself, was aware that
time was of any more importance to our host than it was to many of hia
guests. Presently, to the general surprise, the host himself got up abruptly,
and addressed the company nearly as follows : < Really, my friends, I am
very sorry to be obliged to tear myself from you at so very unreasonable
an hour ; but you seem to have got your sitting-breeches on for the night.
I left mine at home, and must go. But I am sure you will be very soon
in no condition to miss me, especially as I leave behind that excellent
representative/ pointing to a basket qf several yet uncorked bottles,
which stood in a corner. ' Then you know/ he added, you are just as
much at home in this house as I am. You can call for what you like.
Don't be alarmed, I mean on my account. I abandon to you, without
reserve, all my best wine, my credit with the house, and my reputation to
boot. Make free with them all, I beg of you, and, if you don't go home
till morning, I wish you a merry night of it.' With this he was off, and
the Old South clock, hard by, was heard to strike ten at the instant."
Mr. Gardiner, in the preceding remarks, refers more than
once to the opinions of Professor Theophilus Parsons on Mr.
Prescott's social character. They are contained in a paper
which this early and intimate friend of the historian was goo4
enough to give me ; but there are other portions of the same
paper so true, and so happily expressed, that I should be un-
just to my readers, if I were not to give them more than the
glimpses afforded in Mr. Gardiner's remarks.
Speaking of Mr. Prescott's " marvellous popularity," Mr.
Parsons goes on :
" I do not speak of this as his success in society, for that would imply
that he sought for popularity and aimed at it, and this would be wholly
untrue. It was not perhaps undesired, and it certainly was neither un-
132 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
known nor unwelcome to him. But it came, not because lie marie any
effort to procure it, but simply because it was inevitable, by which I mean
that it was the necessary effect of the combination of certain qualities in
his character. Foremost among these, undoubtedly, was his universal,
constant, and extreme kindness of heart, and its fitting exponent in as
sweet a temper as ever man had. But even these would not have sufficed,
but for his capacity for sympathy, a quality which is not always the com-
panion of a real benevolence If Prescott never demanded or desired
that others should stand around and bow to him, it was not because he
could have no reason for claiming this. For all whom he came near felt,
what he never seemed to feel, that there was, if not some renunciation of
right, at least a charming forgetfulness of self, in the way in which he
asserted no superiority over any, but gave himself up to the companion of
the moment, with the evident desire to make him as happy as he could.
And his own prompt and active sympathy awoke the sympathy of others.
His gayety became theirs. He came, always bringing the gift of cheerful-
ness, and always offering it with such genuine cordiality, that it was sure
to be accepted, and returned with increase. No wonder that he was just
as welcome everywhere as sunshine. If I were asked to name the man
whom I have known, whose coming was most sure to be hailed as a pleas-
ant event by all whom he approached, I should not only place Prescott at
the head of the list, but I could not place any other man near him. And
with all this universal sympathy there was never any sacrifice or loss of
himself. He did not go willingly to others because his mind had no home
of its own. When we see one seeking society often, and enjoying it with
peculiar relish, we can hardly forbear thinking that he thus comes abroad
to find necessary recreation, and that, even if he be content at home, his
joys are elsewhere. Nothing could be less true of Prescott. It would
have been equally difficult for one who knew him only in his home activi-
ties and his home happiness, or only in the full glow of his social pleas-
ures, to believe that he knew but half of the man, and that the other half
was quite as full of its own life, and its own thorough enjoyment, as the
half he saw."
CHAPTER XII.
1837.
MR. PRESCOTT'S INDUSTRY AND GENERAL CHARACTER BASED ON PRIN-
CIPLE AND ON SELF-SACRIFICE. TEMPTATIONS. EXPEDIENTS TO
OVERCOME THEM. EXPERIMENTS. NOTES OF WHAT IS READ TO HIM.
COMPOSES WITHOUT WRITING. SEVERE DISCIPLINE OF HIS MORAL
AND KELIGIOUS CHARACTER. DISLIKES TO HAVE HIS HABITS INTER-
FERED WITH. NEVER SHOWS CONSTRAINT. FREEDOM OF MANNER
IN HIS FAMILY AND IN SOCIETY. His INFLUENCE ON OTHERS. His
CHARITY TO THE POOR. INSTANCE OF IT.
MR. PRESCOTT early discovered what many, whose
social position makes no severe demand on them for
exertion, fail to discover until it is too late, I mean, that
industry of some sort and an earnest use of whatever faculties
God has given us, are essential to even a moderate amount of
happiness in this world. He did not, however, come to this
conclusion through his relations with society. On the contrary,
these relations during the most exposed period of his youth
were tempting him in exactly the opposite direction, and thus
rendering his position dangerous to his character. He was
handsome, gay, uncommonly entertaining, and a great favorite
wherever he went. The accident to his sight obviously ex-
cluded him frorn^ the professions open to persons of his own
age and condition, and his father's fortune, if not great, was
at least such as to relieve the son, with whose misfortune his
whole family felt the tenderest sympathy, from the necessity of
devoting himself to any occupation as a means of subsistence.
A life of dainty, elegant idleness was, therefore, as freely open
to him as it was to any young man of his time ; and his in-
firmities would no doubt have excused him before his friends
and the world, if he had given himself up to it. His personal
relations, in fact, no less than his keen relish of social enjoy-
ments and his attractive qualities as a mere man of society, all
seemed to solicit him to a life of self-indulgence.
134 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
But he perceived betimes that such a life would be only-
one long mistake, that it might satisfy the years of youth,
when the spirits are fresh, and the pursuit of pleasure has been
checked neither by sorrow nor by disappointment, but that it
must leave the graver period of manhood without its appro-
priate interests, and old age without its appropriate respect.
" It is of little moment," he therefore recorded, for his own
warning and government, as early as 1822, "it is of little
moment whether I succeed in this or that thing, but it is of
great moment that I am habitually industrious." This con-
clusion was reached by him three years before he began his
search for a subject to which he could devote serious and con-
secutive labor. But it was eight years after the occurrence
of the accident that had shut him out from the field of adven-
ture in which most of those who had been his companions and
friends were already advancing and prosperous. 1
And these eight years had been full of silent, earnest teach-
ings. The darkness in which he had so often been immured
for weeks and months together had given him leisure for
thoughts which might otherwise never have come to him, or
which would have come with much less power. Notwith-
standing his exuberant spirits, he had suffered hours of ennui,
which, in a free and active life, and amidst the pleasures of
society, would have been spared to him. The result, there-
fore, to which he was brought by the workings of his own mind,
was, that, to be happy, he must lead a life of continuous, useful
industry, such as he would at last enjoy if it were faithfully
persisted in, and if it tended to the benefit of others.
We have seen how ingenious he was in inventing for him-
self the mechanical contrivances indispensable to the labor and
study on which, with his imperfect sight, he so much depended.
But there was another obstacle in his way of a different sort,
and one still more difficult and disagreeable to encounter. He
did not love work. He could do it, and had done it often, but
1 The same thought is often repeated in his Memoranda, but nowhere in
stronger terms than in a paper written twenty-seven years later, and show-
ing that he adhered to his conviction on the subject through life. " I am
convinced," he says, " that whether clairvoyant or stone-blind, intellectual
occupation steady, regular literary occupation is the only true vocation
for me, indispensable to my happiness."
INDUSTRY ON PRINCIPLE. 135
only under some strong stimulus. He had, for instance, com-
monly learned his lessons well in boyhood, because he respected
Dr. Gardiner, and was sure to be punished, if he had neglected
them. At college, he considered a certain moderate amount
of scholarship necessary to the character of a gentleman, and
came up to his own not very high standard with a good degree
of alacrity. And he had always desired to satisfy and gratify
his father, whose authority he felt to be gentle as well as just,
and whose wishes were almost always obeyed, even in his
earlier and more thoughtless years. But the present purpose
of his life demanded a different foundation from all this,
one much deeper and much more solid. He was now to be a
scholar, and to work not only faithfully, but gladly, almost
disinterestedly ; for without such work, as he well knew, no
permanent and worthy result could be obtained, no ultimate
intellectual success achieved. " Be occupied always" he there-
fore recorded firmly at the outset of his new life.
But his nature buoyant, frolicsome, and simple-hearted
and his temperament strong, active, and wilful long con-
tended against his wise determination. While he was engaged
with his French and Italian studies, he did not, indeed, find
industry difficult ; for such studies were both pleasant and light.
But when they were over, and he was persuaded that German
was inaccessible to him, his exertions relaxed. " I have read
with no method, and very little diligence or spirit, for three
months," he said in 1824. " To the end of my life, I trust,
I shall be more avaricious of time, and never put up with a
smaller average than seven hours of intellectual occupation per
diem. Less than that cannot discharge my duties to mankind,
satisfy my own feelings, or give me a rank in the community of
letters." But a few months afterwards he finds it needful to
adopt new resolutions of reform. He complains bitterly that he
" really works less than an hour a day," and determines that it
shall at any rate be five hours, a determination, however,
which he makes only to be mortified again and again, that he
can, with much effort, hardly come up to three or four. And
so it went on for two years of alternating struggles and failures.
Even after he had entered on the composition of the " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," it was not much better. The" habit of
136 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
industry indispensable to success was hard to be acquired.
Resolutions, such as he had been long in the habit of making,
but which, from their nature, should rather have been called
good purposes, would not do it. He broke them continually.
Some other expedient, therefore, one more absolute and of
more stringent authority, must be resorted to, or he must
fail. 2
A good deal annoyed with himself, he turned to what had
earlier been a favorite mode of compelling himself to keep
his own good resolutions, I mean a system of pecuniary
mulcts and penalties. In college, he began this practice, which
he continued through his whole life, by punishing himself
with a moderate fine, to be paid, after certain neglects or
offences, to some charity. But this had noj^quite enough of the
essential character of punishment in it, since he was liberally
supplied with money, and loved to give it away almost as well
as his mother did. He therefore adopted another mode, that
proved a little more effectual. He made bets, of some con-
sequence, with such of his college friends as would take them,
to the effect that he would avoid or would do certain things,
in relation to which he was sure he should be mortified to have
them know he had failed. But it was a whimsical peculiarity
of these bets, to be on such subjects, or in such forms, that
commonly nobody but himself could know whether he had
lost or won. The decision was left to his own honor. It
should be added, therefore, that, as such bets were made wholly
for his own improvement, he was never at this period known
to exact a forfeit when his adversary had lost. He considered
his success as his true winning, and had no wish that any-
body should be punished for it. He desired only to punish
himself, and therefore, when he had lost was sure to proclaim
himself the loser and pay the bet. When he had won, he said
nothing.
It was to this last form of stimulus or punishment, there-
fore, that he resorted, when he found his industry in relation
2 There is a characteristic allusion to this frailty in his notice of a good
resolution which he made at the end of one of his memorandum-books, and
to which he refers in the first words of the next': " I ended the last book with
a good resolution. I shall never be too old to make them. See if I shall ever
be old enough to keep them."
BOND AND PENALTIES. 137
to the composition of the " Ferdinand and Isabella " not only
flagging, but so seriously falling off that he began to be alarmed
for the final result. In September, 1828, he gave a bond to
Mr. English, then acting as his reader and secretary, to pay
him a thousand dollars, if, within one year from that date, he
had not written two hundred and fifty pages of his history,
" the object being," as he said, " to prevent further vacillation
until he had written so much as would secure his interest in
going through with it." He did not incur the penalty, and
thirteen years afterwards he recorded his conviction that the
arrangement had been wise. " I judged right," he said, " that
when I had made so large an investment of time and labor, I
should not flag again."
But Mr. English's account of the affair is more minute, and
is not a little curious as an expression of Mr. Prescott's char-
acter.
" The bond or agreement made," he writes to me, " bound each of us
to take from the other the amount Mr. Prescott should himself decide to
be won on certain wagers written by himself and sealed up. I never saw
them, and do not, to this day, know the subject of the bets. I took
his word that they were made to gratify some fancy of his own, and that
they were so proportioned that the odds were much in my favor, for
instance, that he risked in the proportion of one hundred to my twenty.
This contract, I suppose, continued to his death ; at any rate, he never
notified me that it had ceased. He often added new wagers, or in-
creased the amount of the old ones, as we have written our signatures
with fresh dates over and over again on the bottom and margins of the
sheets at numerous times since 1831, 3 down to within a few years of his
death. He would bring the paper to my office so folded that I could not
read what was written in it, and, with a smile, ask me to sign again. I
always did so at his request, without knowing what I signed, having the
most implicit confidence that it was only a harmless affair, and leaving it
wholly to him to decide whether I lost or won. I remember his paying
me two winnings, one, several years ago, of twenty or thirty dollars,
the other, somewhere about ten years ago, of one hundred. He afterwards
called on me to pay a loss of twenty or thirty, I forget which. He would
come into my office with a smile, lay down his money, and say, ' You re-
member that bond ? you have won that, and go out with a laugh. On
the other occasion, ' You have lost this time, and must pay me twenty or
thirty dollars/ whichever it was. I handed him the money without re-
mark. He laughed and said, that, on the whole, I was in pocket so far,
but he could not tell how it would be next time, and went out without
anything more said on either side."
8 In 1831, Mr. English ceased to act as Mr. Prescott's secretary.
138 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
This document is lost, but another, not unlike it, and, what
is remarkable, made with another friend, while the first bond
was yet in full force, is preserved, and is very minute and
stringent. Both prove that work was often painfully unwel-
come to him, even when he had been long accustomed to it,
and that not unfrequently, in order to rouse himself to a proper
exertion of his faculties, he was willing to call in the aid of
some foreign, direct stimulus. And this he did from a delib-
erate persuasion that it was a duty he owed to himself, to em-
ploy the talents that had been given to him " as ever in the
great Taskmaster's eye." His literary memoranda afford abun-
dant proof of this. Indeed, they are throughout a sort of mon-
ument of it, for they were made in a great degree to record his
shortcomings, and to stimulate his uncertain industry. They
contain many scores of phrases, like these, scattered over more
than twenty years of the most active and important part of his
life.
" I have worked lazily enough, latterly, or, rather, have been too lazy
to work at all. Ended the old year [1834] very badly. The last four
weeks absolute annihilation. Another three months, since the last entry,
and three months of dolce Jar niente. Not so dolce either. Fortunately
for the good economy and progress of the species, activity activity,
mental or physical is indispensable to happiness."
On another occasion, after enumerating the work he had
done during the preceding six months, he says :
" There is the sum total of what I have done in this dizzy-pated winter,
which has left me in worse health and spirits, and with less to show in
any other way, than any past winter for ten years, nay, twenty,
proh pudor! "
And again, in 1845 :
"I find it as hard to get under way as a crazy hulk that has been
hauled up for repairs. But I will mend, and, that I may do so, will make
hebdomadal entries of my laziness. I think I can't stand the repetition
of such records long."
But the very next week, in reference to the " Conquest of
Peru," which he was then writing, he says :
" Horresco referens! I have actually done nothing since last entry.
If I can once get in harness and at work, I shall do well enough.
But my joints are stiff, I think, as I grow old. So, to give myself a start,
I have made a wager with Mr. Otis, 4 that I will reel oft' at least one page
4 Mr. Edmund B. Otis, who was then acting as his secretary.
NOTES FROM BOOKS. 139
per diem, barring certain contingencies. If I can't do this, it must be a
gone case, and Pizarro may look to have his misdeeds shown up by a
better pen."
No doubt, in these passages of his private Memoranda, and
in many more, both earlier and later, of the same sort, there is
high coloring. But it was intentional. The main object of
the whole record for nearly forty years was to stimulate his
industry, and to prevent himself from relapsing into the idle-
ness, or into the light and pleasant occupations, that constantly
tempted him from his proper studies. As he intimates in the
last extract, when he was well entered on a subject and the im-
petus was obtained, he generally enjoyed his work, and felt the
happiness and peace of conscience which he knew he could get
in no other way. But the difficulty was, to obtain the impetus.
After finishing one work, he did not like to begin another, and,
even when he had completed a single chapter, he was often
unwilling to take up the next. When he moved from the town
to the country, or from the country to the town, he did not
naturally or easily fall into his usual train of occupations. In
short, whenever there was a pause, he wanted to turn aside
into some other path, rather than to continue in the difficult
one right before him ; but he very rarely went far astray, be-
fore he had the courage to punish himself and come back.
But, besides being intended for a rebuke to the idle and
light-hearted tendencies of his nature, his Memoranda were
designed to record the various experiments he made to over-
come the peculiar difficulties in his way, and thus assist him to
encounter others more successfully. Some of these bear the
same marks of ingenuity and adaptation which characterized
his mechanical contrivances for sparing his sight, and were near
akin to them.
The notes that were taken from the books read to him, or
which he was able to read himself, were made with very great
care. They varied in their character at different periods, going
more into detail at first than they did later. But they were
always ample, abundant. I have now before me above a thou-
sand pages of them, which yet cover only a small portion of
the ground of " Ferdinand and Isabella." From these, and
similar masses of manuscript, were selected, when they were
140 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
wanted, such materials and hints as would suit the purpose of
any given chapter or division of the work that might be in
hand, and these again were transcribed by themselves, in a
very plain hand, for use. If his eye served him tolerably well,
he read such of these selected notes as were most important,
with great care, repeatedly, until he felt himself to be absolute
master of their contents. If they were not so important, they
were read to him, rarely less than six times, generally
more, " some," he says, " a dozen times," so that he might
not only comprehend their general scope, but be able to judge
of any varieties involved in their separate statements, whether
of opinion or of fact.
When he had thus collected all needful materials, he began
the task of composition in his memory, very difficult, from
the detail into which it was necessarily carried, and from
the exactness that was to be observed in each step as he
advanced. Of its value and importance he was early aware,
and, as he gradually surmounted the peculiar embarrassments
it presented, he 'relied on it more and more exclusively, until
at last he attained an extraordinary power in its use and ap-
plication.
In 1824, he said, that, before composing anything, he found
it necessary " to ripen the subject by much reflection in his
mind." This, it will be remembered, was when he had not
even begun his preliminary Spanish studies, and had, in fact,
hazarded nothing more serious than an article for the " North-
American Review." But, as soon as he had entered on the
composition of the " Ferdinand and Isabella," he felt fully its
great importance and wide consequences. Within a fortnight,
he recorded : " Never take up my pen, until I have travelled
over the subject so often, that I can write almost from memory."
It was really desirable to write, not almost, but altogether,
from memory. He labored, therefore, long for it, and suc-
ceeded, by great and continuous efforts, in obtaining the much-
coveted power. " Think concentratedly," he says, " when I
think at all." And again, " Think closely, gradually concen-
trating the circle of thought." 8 At last, in 1841, when he was
5 Again, November 10, 1839, he records: " Think continuously and closely
before taking up my pen ; make the corrections chiefly in my own mind; not
COMPOSITION IN HIS MEMORY. 141
employed on the " Mexico," he records, after many previous
memoranda on the subject : " My way has lately been to go
over a large mass, over and over, till ready to throw it on
paper." And the next year, 1842, he says : " Concentrate
more resolutely my thoughts the first day of meditation, going
over and over, thinking once before going to bed, or in bed,
or before rising, prefer the latter. And after one day of
chewing the cud should be [i. e. ought to be] ready to write.
It was three days for this chapter." [" Conquest of Mexico,"
Book V., Chapter II.] Sometimes it was longer, but, in gen-
eral, a single whole day, or two or three evenings, with the
hours of his exercise in riding or walking, were found to be
sufficient for such careful meditation. 6
The result was remarkable almost incredible as to the
masses he could thus hold in a sort of abeyance in his mind,
and as to the length of time he could keep them there, and
consider and reconsider them without confusion or weariness.
Thus, he says that he carried in his memory the first and
second chapters of the fifth book of the "Conquest of Peru,"
and ran over the whole ground several times before beginning
to write, although these two chapters fill fifty-six pages of printed
text ; and he records the same thing of chapters fifth, sixth,
and seventh, in the second book of " Philip the Second," which
attempt to overlook my noctographs ; very trying to the eye. If I would
enjoy composition, write well, and make progress, I must give my whole soul
to it, so as not to know the presence of another in the room; going over
the work again and again (not too fastidious, nor formal); thinking when
walking and dressing, &c. ; and not too scrupulous, hesitating, in my final
corrections. It is a shame and a sin to waste time on mere form. Have
been very contented and happy here [Pepperell] ; fine weather, and pleasing
occupation."
6 In preparing Chapter III., of the Introduction to the " Conquest of
Peru," about thirty printed pages, he records that, after having done
all the necessary reading, he studied five days on the memoranda he had
made, reflected on them one day more, and then gave four days to writing
the text, and five to writing the notes. Gibbon, too, used to compose in his
mind; but it was in a very different way, and with very different results.
He prepared only a paragraph at a time, and that he did, as he says, in order
" to try it by the ear." (Misc. Works, 1814, Vol. I. p. 230.) I think the effect
of this loud recital of his work to himself is plain in the well-known cadence
of his sentences. Mr. Prescott never, so far I as know, repeated his chapters
aloud. His mental repetition was generally done when he was riding, or
walking, or driving.
142 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
make together seventy-two pages, and on which he was em-
ployed sixty-two days. 7
He frequently kept about sixty pages in his memory for
several days, and went over the whole mass five or six times,
moulcKng and remoulding the sentences at each successive
return. But this power did not remain in full vigor to the
last. When he was writing the third volume of " Philip the
Second," he found that he could not carry more than about
forty pages in his mind at once, and spoke to me of it as a sad
failure of memory, which no doubt, it was in one point of
view, although in another, it can be regarded only as an ex-
pression of the surprising power at one time reached by a
faculty which in its decline was still so marvellous. But,
whatever might be the amount that he had thus prepared in his
mind, he went over it five or six times, as a general rule,
sometimes more, and once, at least, he did it, for a single
chapter, sixteen times, an instance of patient, untiring labor
for which it will not be easy to find a parallel. 8
Writing down by the help of his apparatus what had been
so carefully prepared in his memory was a rapid and not dis-
agreeable operation, especially in the composition of his " Con-
quest of Mexico," and of his later works, when the habit of
doing it had become fixed and comparatively easy. As the
sheets were thrown off, the secretary deciphered and copied
7 His words are: "The batch all run over in my -mind several times,
from beginning to end, before writing a word has been got out, reading,
thinking, and writing, in sixty-two days."
8 Dionysius of Halicarnassus (De Compositione Verborum, Ed. Schaefer,
1808, p. 406) says, that Plato continued to correct and polish the style of his
Dialogues when he was eighty years old. e Q Se IlXarajj/ TOVS eauroi)
SiaXoyovs KTCVI&V Kal ftoa-rpvxifav KOI -rravra rponov avan\Ka>v ov
dieXnrev 6y8orjossessio?&, or inheritances.
ELECTED INTO THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF BERLIN. 223
he received the diploma -announcing it; and it was not until
some weeks afterwards, April 23d, 1845, that he made the
following entry among his literary memoranda :
In my laziness I forgot to record the greatest academic honor I have
received, the greatest I shall ever receive, my election as Correspond-
ing Member of the French Institute, as one of the Academy of Moral and
Political Science. I was chosen to fill the vacancy occasioned by the
death of the illustrious Navarrete. This circumstance, together with the
fact, that I did not canvass for the election, as is very usual with the can-
didates, makes the compliment the more grateful to me.
By the last steamer I received a diploma from the Royal Society of
Berlin also, as Corresponding Member of the Class of Philosophy and
History. This body, over which Humboldt presides, and which has been
made famous by the learned labors of Nicbuhr, Von Raumer, Ranke, &c.,
&c., ranks next to the Institute among the great Academies of the Conti-
nent. Such testimonies, from a distant land, are the real rewards of a
scholar. What pleasure would they have given to my dear father ! I feel
as if they came too late !
Similar remarks, as to the regret he felt that his father could
no longer share such honors with him, he had made earlier to
more than one of his friends, with no little emotion. 4 They
were honors of which he was always naturally and justly
proud, for they had been vouchsafed neither to Bowditch
nor to Irving, but sorrow for a time dimmed their bright-
ness to him. As Montaigne said on the death of Boetie,
" We had everything in common, and, now that he is gone, I
feel as if I had no right to his part."
Of the election at Berlin, which, according to the diploma,
was made in February, 1845, I have no details ; but at Paris,
I believe, the forms were those regularly observed. On the
18th of January, 1845, M. Mignet, on behalf of the Section
of History, reported to the Academy of Moral and Political
Science the names of those who were proposed as candidates
* This seems, indeed, to have been his first feeling on receiving the intelli-
gence. Dr. George Hayward, the distinguished surgeon, met him on the
steps of the post-office as he came with the official notice of his election to
the Institute in his hand, and told me a few days afterwards, that, while Mr.
Prescott showed without hesitation how agreeable to him was the intelligence
he had received, he added immediately a strong expression of his regret that
the unsolicited and unexpected honor had not come to him before the death
of his father. Mr. Parsons, Mr. Prescott's early friend, has sent me a state-
ment somewhat similar. Both agree entirely with my own recollections and
those of his family, as to his feelings at the same period.
224 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
to fill the place of Navarrete, who had died the preceding
year ; viz. in the first rank, Mr. Prescott ; in the second rank,
ex I mean to write to her soon.
But you see what long letters I send to Fitful Head. Kiss your mother
for me. I know you are a comfort to her ; you cannot be otherwise.
With much love to your grandmother and Aunt Dexter, I remain,
Your affectionate father,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
His more general but still very familiar views of English
society may perhaps be better gathered from a letter written
after he had crossed into Scotland, than from those written on
the other side of the Tweed.
TO MR. TICKNOR.
EDINBURGH, Aug. 16, 1850.
DEAR GEORGE,
As I could not send you a letter from Alnwick Castle by my regular
amanuensis, I have deferred sending it till I came here, and have taken the
liberty to carry oft' one of the Alnwick note-papers, to give you a more
vivid idea of my late whereabouts. I was much pleased with my short
residence there, liking my noble host and his Duchess very much. They
are in truth excellent people, Jaking an active interest in the welfare of
their large tenantry. The Duke is doing much to improve the condition
of his estates. His farmers and tenants appear, from the glance I had at
them, that was at feeding hours, to be a thriving, contented people,
and overflowing with loyalty to the noble house of Percy. But I have
written particulars of my visit to Lizzie, in a letter, which, if you feel
curious, I dare say she will show you, as I wish all my letters to be read
by you and Anna, if you desire it. I passed also some days with Mr.
A , a great landed proprietor in Warwickshire ; quite an amiable,
cultivated person, who has taken an active interest in colonial affairs in
Parliament. We had some agreeable people in the house, and I saw a
good deal of the neighboring country, in the society of our friend T ,
through whom I became acquainted with Mr. A . Mr. A 's wife
is T 's cousin. But for my adventures here, I shall refer you also to
family letters. I am now at Edinburgh en route for the North, and pro-
pose to be at Inverary Castle at the end of three days, taking the way of
Stirling, Loch Katrine, &c.
LETTER TO MR. TICKNOR. 309
I have been now long enough in London society, I believe, to under-
stand something of it, and something also of English country life, far
the noblest phase. Yet neither one nor the other, as they are conducted
in the great houses, would be wholly to my taste. There is an embarras
de richesses ; one would want more repose. I am told the higher English
themselves discover something of this taste, and that there is less of pro-
fuse hospitality than of yore. This is somewhat attributed to the rail-
roads, which fetch and carry people with the utmost facility from the most
distant quarters. It was a great affair formerly to make journeys of two
or three hundred miles ; arrangements were made long beforehand, and
the guests stayed long after they got there. But now-a-days they slip ia
and off without ceremony, and the only place where the old state of things
perfectly exists is in a county like Cornwall, too rough for railways, at
least for many. Your railroad is the great leveller after all. Some of
the old grandees make a most whimsical lament about it. Mrs. 'a
father, who is a large proprietor, used to drive up to London with his
family, to attend Parliament, with three coaches and four. But now-a-
days he is tumbled in with the unwashed, in the first class, it is true, no
better than ours, however, of the railway carriages ; and then tumbled
out again into a common cab with my Lady and all her little ones, like
any of the common pottery.
There are a good many other signs of the times to be seen in the
present condition of the aristocracy. The growing importance of man-
ufactures and moneyed capitalists is a wound, not only to the landed
proprietors, but to the peers, who, it is true, are usually the greatest landed
proprietors in the country. The last man raised to the peerage was a
banker, a man of sense, whom I have met several times. Another peer,
Lord C , or some such name, I may not have got it right, whose
brother, a well-known baronet, I forget his name (I have a glorious
memory for forgetting, and they say that is an excellent kind of memory),
was raised to the House of Lords not many years since, actually, I
mean, the first nominative, Lord C , applied to the Queen the other
day to dis-peer him. After a grave consideration of the matter with the
Privy Council, it was decided that it was not in the power of the Crown
to do so, and the poor man was obliged to pocket his coronet, and make
the best of it. Sir Robert Peel showed his estimate of titles by his curi-
ous injunction on his family ; as indeed he had shown it through his
whole life. A person who, I believe, is well acquainted with the matter,
told me that the Queen urged the title of Earl on Sir Robert when he
went out of office ; but he steadily declined it, requesting only that her
Majesty and the Prince would honor him by sitting for their portraits for
him. Two indifferent full-lengths were accordingly painted for him by
Winterhalter, the Flemish artist, and form t>ne of the principal ornaments,
as the guide-book would say, of Sir Robert's house. Peel, it is well
known, was a good deal snubbed in his earlier life, when he fii-st became
a Cabinet Minister, by the aristocracy ; so that he may have felt satisfac-
tion in showing that he preferred to hold the rank of the Great Commoner
of England to any that titles could give him. Yet it seems almost an
affectation to prevent their descending to his posterity, though it is true it
was only as far as they were meant as the reward of his own services.
310 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
He had too much pride, it seems, to digest this. As to the inferior aris-
tocracy of baronets, knights, &c., there is many an old commoner that
would refuse it, with contempt. You know our friend Hallam's decision
in regard to a baronetcy, though he did not express himself like one of
the old family of T , who, when he was told that it was intended to
make him a baronet, begged that it might be commuted to a knighthood,
that the disgrace might not descend to his posterity. I had the story from
one of the aristocracy myself. You won't understand from all this that I
think titles have not their full value, real and imaginary, in England. I
only mention it as a sign of the times, that they have not altogether the
prestige which they once had, and the toe of the commoner galls some-
what the heel of the courtier.
You know Sir Robert left to Lord Mahon and Mr. Cardwell the care
of his papers. The materials will all be easily at hand if they biogra-
phize. Peel told Mr. A , whose estate lies near to Tamworth, that he
preserved all his correspondence, except invitations to dinner ; and on one
occasion, wanting an important letter in a great hurry in the House of
Commons, he was able to point out the file in which it was kept so ex-
actly, that his friend Lord L - went to Tamworth and got it for him in
the course of a few hours. His death seems to have broken the knot
which held together rather an anomalous party. Many speculations there
are about them, as about a hive of bees ready to swarm, of which one
cannot tell where it will settle. The persons most important in the party
are Sir James Graham and Gladstone, two of the best speakers, indeed,
if not the very best, in the House of Commons. They are pledged, how-
ever, to the Corn-Law movement, and into whatever scale the Peelites
may throw themselves, there seems to be a general impression that there
can be no decidedly retrograde movement in regard to the Corn-Laws, at
least at present. The experiment must be tried ; and the diversity of
opinion about it among the landholders themselves seems to show that it
is far from having been tried yet.
Before I left town, almost all your friends had flown, the Lyells,
Hallam, the excellent Milmans, Lord Mahon, T. Phillips, all but good
Kenyon, whom, by the by, I saw but twice, and that was at his hospitable
table, though we both made various efforts to the contrary, and poor Mr.
Rogers, who, far from flying, will probably never walk again, all are
gone, and chiefly to the Continent. Ford has gone to Turkey, Stirling
to Russia ; Lockhart remains to hatch new Quarterlies. He is a fascinat-
ing sort of person, whom I should fear to have meddle with me, whether
in the way of praise or blame. I suspect he laughs in his sleeve at more
than one of the articles which come out with his imprimatur, and at their
authors too. I had two or thi'ee merry meetings, in which he, Stirling,
and Ford were met in decent conviviality.
But I must conclude the longest, and probably the last, epistle I shall
ever send you from the Old World, and I hope you will never send me
one from that same world yourself. Pray remember me most lovingly to
Anna and Auika, with kind remembrance, moreover, to Gray, and Hil-
lard, and Everett, when you see them. No American Minister has left a
more enviable reputation here. Lawrence, with very different qualities, is
making himself also equally acceptable to the English* Addio, mio caro.
LETTER TO MBS. PRESCOTT. 311
With many thanks for your most interesting letter on our Yankee poli-
tics, more interesting to me here even than at home, I remain
Affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
He hastened from Edinburgh, and pushed on to Inverary
Castle, the Duke of Argyll's, picking up on the way Sir
Roderick Murchison and Professor Sedgwick, who were bound
to the same hospitable port. There he remained for a few
days, but days of great enjoyment, and then turned his face
southward, feeling, at the same time, that he had the happiness
of turning it towards his home. But great pleasures and great
festivities still awaited him on the hospitable soil of Old Eng-
land. Of these, the most ample and agreeable accounts will
be found in the following letters.
TO MRS. PRESCOTT.
CASTLE HOWARD, August 24th, 1850.
DEAR WIFE,
Here we are at Castle Howard, by far the -most magnificent place I
have yet seen. But I will begin where I left off. After bidding adieu to
the Duke and his charming wife at Inverary Castle, we sailed down Loch
Coyle and up the Clyde with Lady Ellesmere, and reached Glasgow at
eight. I posted at once to Alison's, and was cordially received by him
and Madame. He lives in an excellent house, surrounded by a handsome
park. I found a company of ladies and gentlemen, and passed the hours
pleasantly till midnight, when I returned to Glasgow. Alison has a noble
library, and in the centre of it is a great billiard-table, which, when he
wrote, he covered with his authorities. Droll enough ! He showed me a
handsome tribute he had paid to me in the last edition of his History.
He had a cheerful fire in my bedroom, expecting me to stay. But it was
impossible. The next morning we left for Naworth Castle, where I was
to meet Lord Carlisle.
This is a fine old place, of the feudal times, indeed. In the afternoon
we arrived, and saw the towers with the banners of the Howards and
Dacres flying from the battlements, telling us that its lord was there. He
came out to greet us, dressed in his travelling garb, for he had just
arrived, with his Scotch shawl twisted round his body. Was it not
kind in him to come this distance a hundred and fifty miles solely to
show me the place, and that when he was over head and ears in prepara-
tions for the Queen 1 What a superb piece of antiquity, looking still aa
when Lord Surrey's minstrel
" Forsook, for Na worth's iron towers,
Windsor's sweet groves and courtly bowers."
It was partially injured by fire ; but Lord Carlisle has nearly restored it,
812 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
and in the best taste, by copying the antique. Fortunately the walls of
the building, with its charming old ivy and eglantines, are unscathed, and
a good deal of the interior. It stands proudly over a deep ravine, bristled
with pines, with a running brook brawling below ; a wild scene, fit for a
great border fortress. The hall is a hundred feet long and thirty high,
hung round with armorial quarterings of the family. Before dinner we
visited the rich old ruins of Lanercost Abbey, which stand on Lord C.'s
grounds ; walking miles through the wildest mountain scenery to get a'
it. Every one we met showed a respect for the lord of the domain
which seemed to be mingled with warmer feelings, as he spoke kindly tt
each one, asking them about their families, &c. Indeed, it is very grati
fying to see the great deference shown to Lord Carlisle all along tho
route, on my way to Castle Howard. Every one seemed to know him,
and uncover themselves before him. Lady E told me what I have
often heard that he was more generally beloved than any man in the
country.
We found on our return a game dinner smoking for us, for which we
were indebted to Mr. Charles Howard, a younger brother, and Baron
Parke, 1 his father-in-law, who had been slaughtering grouse and black-
cock on the moors. Our table was laid on the dais, the upper part of the
long hall, with a great screen to keep off the cold, and a fire such as
belted Will Howard himself never saw, for it was of coal, of which
Lord C. has some mines in the neighborhood. The chimney, which has
a grate to correspond, is full twelve feet in breadth ; a fine old baronial
chimney, at which they roasted whole oxen I suppose. We all soon felt
as if we could have snapped our fingers at " Belted Will," if he had
come to claim his own again. There are some fine old portraits in the
hall ; among them one of this hero and his wife, who brought the estate
into the Howard family. She was a Dacre. The embrasures of the
drawing-room windows of this old castle are about ten feet thick. I have
got some drawings of the place which Lady gave me, and which
will give you a better idea of it. Next morning we took up our march
for Castle Howard, seventeen miles from York. You can follow me on
the map.
We arrived about six ; found Lady Mary Howard in a pony phaeton
with a pair of pretty cream-colored steeds, waiting for us at the station,
three miles distant. There was a rumble, so that all the party were accom-
modated. The scenery was of a different character from that of Naworth.
Wide-spreading lawns, large and long avenues of beech and oak, beautiful
pieces of water, on which white swans were proudly sailing, an extensive
park, with any quantity of deer, several of them perfectly white, grazing
under the trees, all made up a brilliant picture of the softer scenery of
England. We passed under several ornamented stone arches by a lofty
obelisk of yellow stone, and at length came in full view of the princely
palace of the Howards.
It is of clear yellow stone, richly ornamented with statues aud every
kind of decoration. It makes three sides of a square, and you will form
some idea of its extent, when I tell you that a suite of rooms continues
i Now Lord Wensleydale (1862).
LETTER TO MRS. PRESCOTT. 313
round the house six hundred feet in length. I have seen doors open
through the whole front of the building, three hundred feet, as long as
Park Street, a vista indeed. The great hall, rising to the top of the
house, is gorgeous with decoration, and of immense size. The apart-
ments and the interminable corridors are rilled with master-pieces of art,
painting and sculpture. In every room you are surrounded with the
most beautiful objects of virtu, tables of porphyry and Oriental alabas-
ter, vases of the most elegant and capricious forms, &c. The rooms are
generally not large, but very lofty and richly gilt and carved, and many
of them hung with old Gobelins tapestry. Critics find much fault with
the building itself, as overloaded with ornament. It was built by Van
brugh, who built Blenheim, both in the same ornamental style.
Nothing could be more cordial than the reception I met with. Lady
Carlisle reminds me so of mother ; so full of kindness. If you could
see the, not attention, but affection, which all the- family show me, it
would go to your heart. I spoke yesterday of writing to my late charm-
ing hostess, the Duchess of Argyll, and the kind old lady insisted on
being my secretary instead of William. So I went into her dressing-room,
and we concocted half a dozen pages, which she wrote off, at my dicta-
tion, as rapidly, and with as pretty a hand, as her granddaughter. We
found only some of the family here ; Lady Dover, the widow of Lord
Dover and sister of Lord Carlisle, and her two daughters. Last evening
we had another ' arrival, the splendid Duchess of Sutherland among
others, and William's friend, young Lord Dufferin. I drove over with
Lady Mary in the pony phaeton to the station. Some went on horseback,
and two showy barouches, with four horses each, one of bays, the other
grays, with young postilions in burnished liveries. It was a brilliant show
as we all came merrily over the park, and at full gallop through the villa-
ges in the neighborhood.
All now is bustle and preparation for the royal visit, which is to come
off on Tuesday, the 27th, to take up two days. The Queen and
Prince, with four children, and five and twenty in their suite, chiefly
domestics. Lord Carlisle's family, brothers and sisters, and sons and
daughters, will muster over twenty. So that he has really not asked
another, besides Will and myself, except those in attendance on the
Queen. He has put off having my portrait engraved till after these festivi-
ties, and has actually had it brought down here, where he has hung it up
beside the Prince's and the Queen's, for her Majesty to look at. This is
a sample of all the rest, and I suppose you won't think me a ninny for
telling you of it.
The dining-room will be such as the Queen cannot boast of in Buck-
ingham Palace. It is to be the centre of the famous Picture Gallery one
hundred and fifty feet long. This centre is an octagon of great height,
and a table has been made, of hexagon shape, twenty feet across each
way. It is to hold thirty-six, the number of guests and residents of
the Castle. On one of the days a lunch for double the number will be
spread, and people invked, when two long ends are to be added to the
table, running up the gallery. You may imagine the show in this splen-
did apartment, one side of which is ornamented with statues, and with
the costliest pictures of the Orleans Collection ; the other, with a noble
14
314 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
library in rich bindings ; the windows opening on a velvet lawn and a
silver sheet of water. But this will not be seen at the dinner hour of
eight. The centre of the table will be occupied with candelabra, pyramids
of lights and flowers, and we shall all be able to see the way in which
her gracious Majesty deports herself. But I believe I must wind up my
yarn, and spin some for somebody else.
I must tell you of one. of my accomplishments. Last night we played
billiards ; the game of pool, a number of gentlemen and ladies. Each
person has three lives. All had lost their lives but Lord Dufferin and
myself. He had three and I had only one. The pool of sixpences would
go to the victor. There was a great sensation, as he, being a capital
player, had deprived many of their lives ; that is, pocketed their balls. I
struck him into a pocket, which cost him one life, a general shout,
the whole house was there. He missed his stroke and pocketed himself;
thus he lost two lives, and we were equal. The stir was great, all shout-
ing, as I played, " Hit him there, you can't fail ! kill him ! " &c., &c. We
fought round and round the table and he took off his coat. So did not I,
but buttoned up mine. As he missed a hazard and left his ball exposed,
the silence was breathless. I struck him into the pocket amidst a shout
that made the castle ring again. It was just twelve o'clock when I
retired with my laurels and sixpences. Will, who is an excellent player,
missed fire on this ocxjasion, and I, who am a poor one, had all his luck.
I have taken my passage, and paid for it, on board the Niagara, the
same vessel I came out in, for September 14th, a week later than I
intended. But I found I should be too much hurried by the 7th. This
will give me three weeks in old Pepperell. But it will take me via, New
York. I shall write to you once more. Love to mother and Lizzie. I
shall write E. Dexter by this. Don't forget me also to the Ticknors and
other old friends, and believe me, dearest wife,
Your ever-loving husband,
W. H. P.
August 26th. Having nothing' else to do, as there is just now a
general lull in the breeze and I have some leisure, I will go on with my
domestic chat. I left off, let me see, Sunday. In the evening we
had little games, &c., of conversation, as at Pepperell. But the chief
business was lighting up the splendid pictures so as to see the best effect ;
arranging the lights, &c. Beautiful pictures by any light. Before retiring
we heard prayers in the noble hall ; all the household, including a large
troop of domestics. The effect in this gorgeous room, as large and as
richly ornamented as an Italian church, was very fine. Yesterday, the
weather fair, we drove over the park. First I went with Lady Mary,
who whipped me along in her pony-carriage. After lunch I and Will
went with Lady Caroline Lascelles and Captain Howard in a barouche and
four, postilions and outriders all in gay liveries, spotless white leather
pantaloons, and blue and silver coats and hats. We dashed along over
the green sod, always in the park, startling the.deer, and driving often
into the heart of the woods, which are numerous in this fine park. We
all prayed for as fine a day for the morrow for the royal advent. The
house looks magnificently in the sunshine, as you drive up to it !
LETTER TO MRS. PRESCOTT. 315
Alas ! it is always so in this country, the morrow has come, and a
drenching rain, mortifying to all loyal subjects, and a great pity. A great
awning has been raised for the Queen over the steps of the principal
entrance. It is now five o'clock. In an hour the royal cortege will be
here. There has been such a fuss all day. Everybody has been running
about arranging and deranging, some carrying chairs, some flower-pots,
some pictures, some vases, &c., &c. Such a scampering ! I help on with
a kind word, and encourage the others, and especially comfort my kind
host with assurances of the weather changing ! Gas has been conducted
into the great dome over the hall, and " God save the Queen " blazes out
in fiery characters that illuminate the whole building.
Such a quantity of fine things, beautiful flowers and fruits, have arrived
to-day from the Duchess of Sutherland's place at Trentham, and from
the Duke of Devonshire's at Chatsworth ! The Duke is brother to Lady
Carlisle. A large band will play during dinner at one end of the long
gallery, and the Duke of Devonshire has sent his band for music in the
evening. We had our partners and places at table assigned us this morn-
ing. There will be eight or ten more men than women, thirty-six in all.
I go in with Lady Caroline Lascelles, and sit next to Sir George Grey,
the Cabinet Minister, who accompanies the Queen, next the Duchess
of Sutherland, and next Lord Carlisle and the Queen. So you see I shall
be very near her Majesty, and, as the table is circular, I could not be
better placed, another instance of the kindness with which I have been
treated.
A quantity of policemen have arrived on the ground before the house,
as the royal train will be greeted by all the loyal people in the neighbor-
hood, and a body of military are encamped near the house to keep order.
There is such a turn-out of coaches and four, with gay liveries and all.
Plague on the weather ! But it only drizzles now. The landscape,
however, looks dull, and wants the lights to give it effect.
August 28th, Wednesday. I have a little time to write before
luncheon, and must send off the letter then to London to be copied.
Received yours this morning, complaining I had not written by the last.
You have got the explanation of it since. To resume. The Queen, &c.,
arrived yesterday in a pelting rain, with an escort of cavalry, a pretty-
sight to those under cover. Crowds of loyal subjects were in the park in
front of the house to greet her. They must have come miles in the rain.
She came into the hall in a plain travelling-dress, bowing very gracefully
to all there, and then to her apartments, which occupy the front of the
building. At eight we went to dinner, all in full dress, but mourning for
the Duke of Cambridge ; I, of course, for President Taylor ! All wore
breeches or tight pantaloons. It was a brilliant show, I assure you,
that immense table, with its fruits and flowers, and lights glancing over
beautiful plate, and in that superb gallery. I was as near the Queen as
at our own family table. She has a good appetite, and laughs merrily.
She has fine eyes and teeth, but is short. She was dressed in black silk
and lace, with the blue scarf of the Order of the Garter across her bosom.
Her only ornaments were of jet. The Prince, who is certainly a hand-
some and very well-made man, wore the Garter with its brilliant buckle
round his knee, a showy star on his breast, and the collar of a foreign
316 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
order round his neck. Dinner went off very well, except that we had no
music ; a tribute to Louis-Philippe at the Queen's request, too bad ! a
We drank the royal healths with prodigious enthusiasm.
After the ladies retired, the Prince and the other gentlemen remained
half an hour, as usual. In the evening we listened to some fine music,
and the Queen examined the pictures. Odd enough the etiquette. Lady
Carlisle, who did the honors like a high-bred lady as she is, and the
Duchess of Sutherland, were the only ladies who talked with her Majesty.
Lord Carlisle, her host, was the only gentleman who did so, unless she
addressed a person herself. No one can sit a moment when she chooses
to stand. She did me the honor to come and talk with me, asking me
about my coming here, my stay in the Castle, what I was doing now in
the historic way, how Everett was, and where he was, for ten minutes
or so ; and Prince Albert afterwards a long while, talking about the houses
and ruins in England, and the churches in Belgium, and the pictures in
the room, and I don't know what. I found myself now and then trenching
on the rules by interrupting, &c. ; but I contrived to make it up by a
respectful " Your Royal Highness," " Your Majesty," &c. I told the
Queen of the pleasure I had in finding myself in a land of friends instead
of foreigners, a sort of stereotype with me, and of my particular good
fortune in being under the roof with her. She is certainly very much of a
lady in her manner, with a sweet voice.
The house is filled with officials, domestics, &c. Over two hundred
slept here last night. The grounds all round the house, as I write, are
thronged with thousands of men and women, dressed in their best, from
the adjacent parts of the country. You cannot stir out without seeing a
line of heads through the iron railing or before the court-yard. I was
walking in the garden this morning (did I tell you that it is a glorious
day, luckily?) with the Marchioness of Douro, who was dressed in full
mourning as a lady in waiting, when the crowd set up such a shout ! as
they took her for the Queen. But I must close. God bless you, dear !
WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT.
TO MRS. PRESCOTT.
LONDON, Sept. 5, 1850.
DEAREST WIFE,
1 send you a few lines, my last from England, to bring up my history
to as late a date as possible. I told you of the royal festivities at Castle
Howard, and you will get still more particulars from the account in the
" Illustrated News," which I hope you have provided yourself with. The
Queen went off in royal state. In the evening after came off the ball, at
2 Louis-Philippe died at Clermont, Monday, August 26th, 1850, and, as the
Queen was on her way the next day to Castle Howard, the train was stopped,
when passing near Clermont, long enough for Prince Albert to make a visit
of condolence to the ex-Queen. With all this fresh in their recollection, it
was, I suppose, regarded as a considerate and graceful tribute to the affliction
of the French family to request that festive music might be omitted at tba
dinner.
LETTERS TO MRS. PRESCOTT. 317
which I danced three quadrilles and two country-dances, the last two
with the Duchess of Sutherland, and it was four in the morning, when
we wound up with the brave old dance of Sir Koger de Coverley. I spent
a day longer at Castle Howard, driving about with Lady Mary Howard
in her pony phaeton over the park to see her village pensioners. When I
left early the next day, we had an affectionate leave-taking enough ; I
mean all of us together, and as I know it will please you to see how much
heart the family have shown to me, I will enclose a note I received at
Trentham from old Lady Carlisle, and another from her granddaughter,
the Duchess of Argyll. We all parted at the railway station, and I shall
never see them more !
From Castle Howard we proceeded to Trentham in Staffordshire, the
Duchess of Sutherland's favorite seat, and a splendid place it is. We
met her at Derby, she having set out the day before us. We both arrived
too late for the train. So she put post-horses to her barouche, and she
and Lady Constance, a blooming English girl looking quite like Lizzie,
and Will and I, posted it for thirty-six miles, reaching Trentham at ten
in the evening, an open barouche and cool enough. But we took it
merrily, as indeed we should not have got on at all that night, if we had
not had the good luck to fall in with her Grace.
Trentham is a beautiful place ; the grounds laid out in the Italian style
for an immense extent; the gardens with plots of flowers so curiously
arranged that it looks like a fine painting, with a little lake studded with
islands at the end, and this enclosed by hills dark with forest- trees.
Besides these noble gardens, through which the Trent flows in a smooth
current, there is an extensive park, and the deer came under my windows
in the morning as tame as pet lambs. The Duchess spent the former
part of the afternoon in taking us round herself to all the different places,
walking and sometimes boating it on the Trent ; for they extend over a
great space. The green-houses, &c. are superb, and filled with exquisite
flowers and fruit : and the drawing-rooms, of which there is a suite of ten
or twelve, very large, open on a magnificent conservatory, with marble
floors, fountains, and a roof of glass, about five times as big as Mrs.
R.'s, tell E. The rooms are filled with the choicest and most delicate
works of art, painting, sculpture, bijouterie of all kinds. It is the temple
of Taste, and its charming mistress created it all. As I was coming
away, she asked me to walk with her into the garden, and led me to a
spot where several men were at work having a great hole prepared. A
large evergreen tree was held up by the gardener, and I was requested to
help set it in the place and to throw some shovelfuls of earth on it. In
fact, I was to leave an evergreen memorial, . " which," said she, " my
children shall see hereafter, and know by whom it was planted." She
chose to accompany us to the station, and by the way took us to the great
porcelain manufactory of Stoke, where she gave Will a statuette of the
Prince of Wales, very pretty, and me an exquisite little vase, which you
will be so happy as to take care of under a glass cover. Her own rooms
contain some beautiful specimens of them. Is she not a Duchess ? She
is, every inch of her; and what is better, a most warm-hearted, affection-
ate person, like all the rest of the generous race of Howard. They
always seem employed on something. The Duchess of Argyll, I re mem-
318 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
ber, was never unemployed, reading, or working, or drawing, which
she does uncommonly well. The tenderness of the mother and daughter
for each other is pleasing enough. We came to be present at the christen-
ing of the hope of the family, Lord Stafford's first-born son. It took
place in the church, which is attached to a wing of the maasion. The
family occupied a gallery at the end of the chapel, and the ceremony was
witnessed by all the village.
I had intended to go to Lord Ellesmere's, agreeably to a general invita-
tion, but found that Lord and Lady Ellesmere were in Ireland, called there
by the illness of a daughter. So we went to Chatsworth, the famous seat
of the Duke of Devonshire. He is absent, but had written to the house-
keeper to show us all the place, to have the fountains play, one of
which springs up two hundred feet or more, and to prepare lunch for
me. I found the servants prepared to receive us, and we passed several
hours at his magnificent place, and fared as well as if its noble proprietor
had been on the spot to welcome us. I shall, after a day here, go to
Lady Theresa Lewis, at Lord Clarendon's place, then to Baron Parke's,
Ampthill, for a day or two ; then to the Marquis of Lansdowne's, 3 and
then huzza Tor home ! Pray for the good steamer Niagara ; a good
steamer, and a good captain, and I trust a good voyage.
Sept. 9th. Just received yours and E.'s charming letters ; alas ! by
my blunder (the last ?) I was startled by mother's illness. Thank God
all is right again. I could not afford to have anything happen to her
while I am away.
Your affectionate husband,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
And so ended, in unbroken enjoyment, the most brilliant
visit ever made to England by an American citizen not clothed
with the prestige of official station. 4 That Mr. Prescott deeply
8 The visit to Lord Lansdowne's failed ; but before he reached London he
made a most agreeable one at Baron Parke's, now Lord Wensleydale.
4 A whimsical proof that Mr. Prescott was a lion in London during his visit
there may be found in the following note of the venerable Miss Berry,
Horace Walpole's Miss Berry,- with whom Dean Milman had invited Mr.
Prescott and himself to dine, but, owing to Mr. P.'s engagements, he had
been obliged to offer their visit above a fortnight ahead of the time when he
it.
MISS BERRY TO THE REV. MR. MILMAN.
June 20, 1850.
Having insured my life at more than one of the most respectable insur-
ance-companies, I venture to accept of your most agreeable proposal for next
Saturday fortnight! and shall rejoice to see you and Mrs. Milman accom-
panied by one whose works I have long admired, and to whose pen I am
indebted for some of the liveliest interests and the most agreeable hours that
can exist for an octogenarian, like your obliged and attached friend,
M. BERRY.
VISIT TO ENGLAND. 319
Felt the kindness he received especially that of the Lyells,
the Milmans, and " all the blood of all the Howards " is
plain from his letters, written in the confidence and simplicity
of family affection. How much of this kindness is to be at-
tributed to his personal character rather than to his reputation
as an author, it is not easy to tell. But, whatever portion of
it resulted from the intercourse and contact of society ; what-
ever was won by his sunny smile and cordial, unconstrained
ways. he seemed to recognize without accurately measuring
it, and by the finer instincts of his nature to appreciate it as
something more to be valued and desired, than any tribute of
admiration which might have become due to him from his
works before he was personally known.
After he returned home, when the crowded life he had led
for three or four months, with its pleasures and excitements,
was seen from a tranquil distance, he summed up the results of
his visit in the following passage, carefully recorded among his
Memoranda at the end of October, 1850.
On the whole, what I have seen raises my preconceived estimate of the
English character. It is full of generous, true, and manly qualities ; and
I doubt if there ever was so high a standard of morality in an aristocracy
which has such means for self-indulgence at its command, and which occu-
pies a position that secures it so much deference. In general, they do not
seem to abuse their great advantages. The respect for religion at least
for the forms of it is universal, and there are few, I imagine, of the
great proprietors who are not more or less occupied with improving their
estates, and with providing for the comfort of their tenantry, while many
take a leading part in the great political movements of the time. There
never was an aristocracy which combined so much practical knowledge
and industry with the advantages of exalted rank.
The Englishman is seen to most advantage in his country home. For
he is constitutionally both domestic and rural in his habits. His fireside
and his farm, these are the places in which one sees his simple and
warm-hearted nature most freely unfolded. There is a shyness in an
Englishman, a natural reserve, which makes him cold to strangers,
and difficult of approach. But once corner him in his own house, a frank
and full expansion will be given to his feelings, that we should look for in
vain in the colder Yankee, and a depth not to be found in the light and
superficial Frenchman, speaking of nationalities, not individualities.
The Englishman is the most truly rural in his tastes and habits of any
people in the world. I am speaking of the higher classes. The alristoc-
racy of other countries affect the camp and the city. But the English
love their old castles and country seats with a patriotic love. They are
foud of country sports. Every man shoots or hunts. No man is too old
320 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
to be in the saddle some part of the day, and men of seventy years and
more follow the hounds and take a five-barred gate at a leap. The
women are good whips, are fond of horses and dogs, and other animals.
Duchesses have their cows, their poultry, their pigs, all watched over
and provided with accommodations of Dutch-like neatness. All this is
characteristic of the people. It may be thought to detract something
from the feminine graces which in other lands make a woman so amiably
dependent as to be nearly imbecile. But it produces a healthy and
blooming race of women to match the hardy Englishmen, the finest
development of the physical and moral nature which the world has wit-
nessed. For we are not to look on the English gentleman as a mere
Nimrod. With all his relish for field sports and country usages, he has
his house filled with collections of art and with extensive libraries. The
tables of the drawing-rooms are covered with the latest works sent down
by the London publisher. Every guest is provided with an apparatus for
writing, and often a little library of books for his own amusement. The
English country-gentleman of the present day is anything but a Squire
Western, though he does retain all his relish for field sports.
The character of an Englishman, under this its most refined aspect,
has some disagreeable points which jar unpleasantly on the foreigner not
accustomed to them. The consciousness of national superiority, com-
bined with natural feelings of independence, gives him an air of arro-
gance, though it must be owned that this is never betrayed in his own '
house, I may almost say, in his own country. But abroad, where he
seems to institute a comparison between himself and the people he is
thrown with, it becomes so obvious that he is the most unpopular, not to
say odious, person in the world. Even the open hand with which he dis-
penses his bounty will not atone for the violence he offers to national
vanity.
There are other defects which are visible even in his most favored cir-
cumstances. Such is his bigotry, surpassing everything, in a quiet passive
form, that has been witnessed since the more active bigotry of the times
of the Spanish Philips. Such, too, is the exclusive, limited range of his
knowledge and conceptions of all political and social topics and relations.
The Englishman, the cultivated Englishman, has no standard of excel-
lence borrowed from mankind. His speculation never travels beyond his
own little great-little island. That is the world to him. True, he
travels, shoots lions among the Hottentots, chases the grizzly bear over
the Kocky Mountains, kills elephants in India and salmon on the coast of
Labrador, comes home, and very likely makes a book. But the scope
of his ideas does not seem to be enlarged by all this. The body travels,
not the mind. And, however he may abuse his own land, he returns
home as hearty a John Bull, with all his prejudices and national tastes as
rooted as before. The English the men of fortune all travel. Yet
how little sympathy they show for other people or institutions, and how
slight is the interest they take in them ! They are islanders, cut off" fi'om
the great world. But their island is, indeed, a world of its own. With
all their faults, never has the sun shone if one may use the expression
in reference to England on a more noble race, or one that has done
more for the great interests of humanity.
CHAPTER XXIII.
1850-1852.
VOYAGE HOME. LETTERS TO FRIENDS IN ENGLAND. BEGINS TO WORK
AGAIN. PEPPERELL. "PHILIP THE SECOND." CORRESPONDENCE.
ON the 14th of September, Mr. Prescott embarked at
Liverpool, to return home, on board the Niagara, the
same good ship on which he had embarked for Europe nearly
four months earlier at New York, and in which he now
reached that metropolis again, after a fortunate passage of
thirteen days. At Liverpool he stopped, as he did on his
arrival there, at the hospitable house of his old friend Smith ;
and the last letter he wrote before he went on board the
steamer, and the first he despatched back to England, after
he was again fairly at home, were to Lady Lyell, with whom
and Sir Charles he had probably spent more hours in London
than with anybody else, and to both of whom he owed unnum-
bered acts of kindness.
TO LADY LYELL.
LIVERPOOL, September 13, 1850.
MY DEAR LADY LYELL,
I am now at Liverpool, or rather in the suburbs, at my friend's house.
It is after midnight, but I cannot go to sleep without bidding you and
your husband one more adieu. I reached here about five o'clock, and
find there, are seventy passengers ; several ladies, or persons that I hope
are so, for they are not men. But I look for little comfort on the restless
deep. I hope, however, for a fair offing. You will think of me some-
times during the next fortnight, and how often shall I think of you, and
your constant kindness to me ! You see I am never tired of asking for
it, as I sent you the troublesome commission of paying my debts before I
left, and, I believe, did not send quite money enough. Heaven bless you !
With kind remembrances to Sir Charles, believe me, my dear friend,
Most affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
Can you make out my hieroglyphics 1 l
1 This letter was written with his noctograph.
14* U
322 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESGOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, September 30, 1850.
MY DEAR LADY LYELL,
I write you a line to tell you of my safe arrival on the other side of the
great pond I beg pardon lake. We had a fair passage, considering
the season, some thumping and tumbling about and constant head-winds,
but no very heavy gales, such as fall due at the equinox. I was lucky
enough to find a lady on board who was not sick, and who was willing to
read aloud ; so the ennui of the voyage was wonderfully lightened by " Van-
ity Fair " and Mr. Cumming's lion-stories. I had the good fortune to find
all well on returning, and the atmosphere was lighted up with a sunny light,
such as I never saw on the other side of the water, at least during my
present journey. I do not believe it will be as good for my eyes as the
comfortable neutral tints of England, merry England, not from its cli-
mate, however, but from the warm hearts of its people. God bless them !
I have no time to think over matters now, busy in the midst of trunks and
portmanteaus, some emptying, some filling, for our speedy flight to Pep-
perell. But once in its welcome shades, I shall have much to think over,
of dear friends beyond the water. Yesterday, who should pop in upon
me but Dr. Holland, fresh from Lake Superior. It seemed like an appa-
rition from Brook Street, so soon and sudden. He and Everett and
Ticknor will dine with me to-day, and we shall have a comfortable talk'
of things most agreeable to us all. Dr. H. sails in the " Canada " to-
morrow. The grass does not grow under his feet. I sent Anna Ticknor
yesterday the beautiful present, all in good order. She went down in the
afternoon to her sea-nest, and her husband comes up to-day. Possibly
she may come and dine with us too. She was right glad to see me, and
had a thousand questions to ask ; so I hope she will come and get answers
to some of them to-day. To-morrow we flit, and a party of young people
go along with us. So we shall not be melancholy. Adieu, my dear
friend. Pray remember me most kindly to your husband and your family.
My wife joins in loving remembrances to you, and desires to thank you
for your kind note.
Believe me, my dear Lady Lyell, here and everywhere,
Affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
Give my love to the Milmans, when they return. I shall write them
from Pepperell.
Very soon he wrote to Dean Milman.
PEPPERELL, Mass., October 10, 1850.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I have at length reached my native land, and am again in my country
quarters, wandering over my old familiar hills, and watching the brilliant
changes of the leaf in the forests of October, the finest of the American
months. This rural quiet is very favorable for calling up the past, and
many a friendly face on the other side of the water comes up before me,
and none more frequently than yours and that of your dear wife.
LETTER TO DEAN MILMAN. 323
Since I parted from you, I have been tolerably industrious. I first
passed a week in Belgium, to get some acquaintance with the topography
of the country I am to describe. It is a wonderful country certainly,
rich in its present abundance as well as in its beautiful monuments of art
and its historic recollections. On my return to England, I went at once
into the country, and spent six weeks at different places, where I saw
English life under a totally new aspect. The country is certainly the
true place in which to see the Englishman. It is there that his peculiar
character seems to have the best field for its expansion ; a life which calls
out his energies physical as well as mental, the one almost as remarkable
as the other.
The country life affords the opportunity for intimacy, which it is very
difficult to have in London. There is a depth in the English character,
and at the same time a constitutional reserve, sometimes amounting to
shyness, which it requires some degree of intimacy to penetrate. As to
the hospitality, it is quite equal to what we read of in semi-civilized
countries, where the presence of a stranger is a boon instead of a burden.
I could have continued to live in this agreeable way of life till the next
meeting of Parliament, if I could have settled it with my conscience to do
so. As to the houses, I think I saw some of the best places in England,
in the North and in the South, with a very interesting dip into the High-
lands, and I trust I have left some friends there that will not let the memory
of me pass away like a summer cloud. In particular, I have learned to
comprehend what is meant by " the blood of the Howards," a family in
all its extent, as far as I have seen it, as noble in nature as in birth
I had a pretty good passage on my return, considering that it was the
season of equinoctial tempests. I was fortunate in finding that no trouble
or sorrow had come into the domestic circle since my departure, and my
friends were pleased to find that I had brought home substantial proofs of
English hospitality in the addition of some ten pounds' weight to my
mortal part. By the by, Lord Carlisle told the Queen that I said, " In-
stead of John Bull, the Englishman should be called John Mutton, for
he ate beef only one day in the week, and mutton the other six " ; at
which her Majesty, who, strange to say, never eats mutton herself, was
pleased to laugh most graciously.
The day after I reached Boston I was surprised by the apparition of my
old neighbor, Dr. Holland, just returned from an excursion to Lake Supe-
rior. It was as if a piece of Brook Street had parted from its moorings,
and crossed the water. We were in a transition state, just flitting to the
country, but I managed to have him, Everett, and Ticknor dine with me.
So we had a pleasant partie carrte to talk over our friends, on the other
side of the salt lake. What would I not give to have you and Mrs. Mil-
man on this side of it. Perhaps -you may have leisure and curiosity some
day, when the passage is reduced to a week, as it will be, to see the way
of life of the American aborigines. If you do not, you will still be here
in the heart of one who can never forget the kindness and love he has
experienced from you in a distant land.
Pray remember me most affectionately to Mrs. Milman, to whom I
shall soon write, and believe me, my dear friend,
Very sincerely yours,
W. H. PRESCOTT.
324 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
He found it somewhat difficult to settle down into regular
habits of industry after his return home. But he did it. His
first weeks were spent at Pepperell, where I recollect that I
passed two or three merry days with him, when our common
friend, Mr. Edward Twisleton, who had been very kind to him
in England, made him a visit, and when the country was in all
the gorgeous livery of a New England autumn.
The subsequent winter, 1850-51, was spent as usual, in
Boston. But his eyes were in -a bad state, and his interrup-
tions so frequent, that he found it impossible to secure as many
hours every day for work as he desired. He therefore was
not satisfied with the results he obtained, and complained, as
he often did, somewhat unreasonably, of the ill effects of a
town life. Indeed, it was not until he made his villeggiatura
at Pepperell, in the autumn of 1851, that he was content with
himself and with what he was doing.
But from this time he worked in earnest. He made good
resolutions and kept them with more exactness than he had
commonly done ; so that, by the middle of April, 1852, he had
completed the first volume of his " Philip the Second/' and was
plunging with spirit into the second. I remember very well
how heartily he enjoyed this period of uncommon activity.
It was at this time, and I think partly from the effect of his
visit to England, that he changed his purpose concerning the
character he should give to his " History of Philip the Sec-
ond." When he left home he was quite decided that the work
should be Memoirs. Soon after his return he began to talk to
me doubtfully about it. His health was better, his courage
higher. But he was always slow in making up his mind. He
therefore went on some months longer, still really undeter-
mined, and writing rather memoirs than history. At last,
when he was finishing the first volume, and came to confront
the great subject of the Rebellion of the Netherlands, he per-
ceived clearly that the gravest form of history ought to be
adopted.
" For some time after I had finished the Peru/ " he says, " I hesi-
tated whether I should grapple with the whole subject of Philip inextenso,
and when I had made up my mind to serve up the whole barbecue, instead
of particular parts of it, I had so little confidence in the strength of my
LETTER TO MR. FORD. 325
own vision, that I thought of calling the work ' Memoirs ' and treating
the subject in a more desultory and superficial manner than belongs to
regular history. I did not go to work in a business-like style until I
broke ground on the troubles of the Netherlands. Perhaps my critics
may find this out."
I think they did not. Indeed, there was less occasion for
it than the author himself supposed. The earlier portions of
the history, relating as they do to the abdication of Charles V.
and the marriage of Philip with Mary of England, fell natu-
rally into the tone of memoirs, and thus they make a more
graceful vestibule to the grand and grave events that were
to follow than could otherwise have been arranged for them,
while, at the same time, as he advanced into the body of his
work and was called on to account for the war with France,
and describe the battles of St. Quentin and Gravelines, he, as
it were, inevitably fell into the more serious tone of history,
which had been so long familiar to him. The transition, there-
fore, was easy, and was besides so appropriate, that I think a
change of purpose was hardly detected. One effect of it, how-
ever, was soon perceptible to himself. He liked his work
better, and carried it on with- the sort of interest which he
always felt was important, not only to his happiness, but to his
success.
From this time forward that is, from the period of his
return home his correspondence becomes more abundant.
This was natural, and indeed inevitable. He had made ac-
quaintances and friendships in England, which led to such
intercourse, and the letters that followed from it show the
remainder of his life in a light clearer and more agreeable
than it can be shown in any other way. Little remains,
therefore, but to arrange them in their proper sequence.
TO MR. FOKD.
PEPPERELL, Mass., U. S., Octooer 12, 1850.
Here I am, my dear Ford, safe and sound in my old country quarters, with
leisure to speak a word or two to a friend on the other side of the Atlantic.
I had a voyage of thirteen days, and pretty good weather for the "most
part, considering it was the month when I had a right to expect to be
tumbled about rudely by the equinoctial gales. We had some rough
gales, and my own company were too much damaged to do much for me.
326 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESGOTT.
But angel woman, God bless her ! always comes when she is wanted,
and sometimes when she is not, and I found one in a pretty little Yan-
kee lady, who had the twofold qualifications of being salt-water-proof, and
of being a good reader. So, thanks to her, I travelled through " Vanity
Fair" for the second time, and through Cumming's African exploits,
quite new to me. And so killing his lions helped me to kill my time ;
the worst enemy of the two. It was with a light heart, however, that I
descried the gray rocks of my native land again.
I am now about forty miles from town, on my old family acres, which
do not go back to the time of the Norman conquest, though they do to
that of the Aborigines, which is antiquity for a country where there are
no entails and the son seldom sits under the shadow of the trees that his
father planted. It is a plain New England farm, but I am attached to it,
for it is connected with the earliest recollections of my childhood, and the
mountains that hem it round look at me with old familiar faces. I have
had too many friends to greet me here to have as much time as I could
wish to myself, but as I wander through my old haunts, I think of the
past summer, and many a friendly countenance on the other side of the
water comes before me. Then I think of the pleasant hours I have had
with you, my dear Ford, and of your many kindnesses, not to be forgot-
ten; of our merry Whitebait feed with John Murray, at Royal Green-
wich, which you are to immortalize one day, you know, in the " Quar-
terly,"
" So savage and tartarly."
And that calls to mind that prince of good fellows, Stirling, and the last
agreeable little dinner we three had together at Lockhart's. Pray remem-
ber me most kindly to the great Aristarch and to Stirling. That was not
my final parting with the latter worthy, for he did me the favor to smoke
me into the little hours the morning before I left London for my country
campaign. And I had the pleasure of a parting breakfast with you, too,
in Brook Street, as you may recall, on my return. God bless you both !
Some day or other I shall expect to see you twain on this side of the
great salt lake, if it is only to hunt the grizzly bear, of which amiable
sport John Bull will, no doubt, become very fond when Gumming has
killed all the lions and camelopards of the Hottentot country.
In about a fortnight I shall leave my naked woods for the town, and
then for the Cfcas de Espana, And when I am fairly in harness, I do
not mean to think of anything else ; not even of my cockney friends in
the great-little isle. If there is any way in which I can possibly be of use
to you in the New World, you will not fail to tell me of it with all frank-
ness. Pray remember me most kindly to your daughters.
Y mande siempre su amigo quien le quiere de todo corazon
Y. S. M. B.
GUILLEBMO H. PKESCOTT.
LETTER FROM MR. LOCKHART. 327
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE.
BOSTON, November 12, 1850.
MY DEAR CARLISLE,
I hare the pleasure of sending you Allston's Sketches, of which I spoke
to you. They are the first draughts of some of his best pictures ; among
them the " Uriel," which the Duchess of Sutherland has at Trentham.
Generally, however, they have remained mere sketches which the artist
never worked up into regular pictures. They have been much esteemed
by the critics here as fine studies, and the execution of this work was in-
trusted to two of our best engravers. One of them is excellent with
crayons ; 2 quite equal to Richmond in the portraits of women
I now and then get a reminder of the land of roast mutton by the
sight of some one or other of your countrymen who emerges from the
steamers that arrive here every fortnight. We are, indeed, one family.
Did I ever repeat to you Allston's beautiful lines, one stanza of the three
which he wrote on the subject ? Les voila !
" While the manners, while the arts,
That mould a nation's soul,
Still cling around our hearts,
Between let ocean roll,
Our joint communion breaking with the sun,
Yet still from either beach
The voice of blood shall reach,
More audible than speech:
' We are one.' "
Is it not good ?
Farewell, my dear friend. I think of you mixed up with Castle How-
ard and brave old Naworth, and many a pleasant recollection.
Once more, mio caro, addio.
Always thine,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
FROM MR. LOCKHART.
MY DEAR MR. PRESCOTT,
Your basket of canvas-backs arrived here a day after your note, and
the contents thereof proved to be in quite as good condition as they could
have been if shot three days before in Leicestershire. I may say I had
never before tasted the' dainty, and that I think it entirely merits its repu-
tation ; but on this last head, I presume the ipse dixit of Master Ford is
" a voice double as any duke's."
Very many thanks for your kind recollections. I had had very pleasing
accounts of you and other friends from Holland on his return from his
rapid expedition. He declares that, except the friends, he found every-
thing so changed, that your country seemed to call for a visit once in five
years, and gallant is he in his resolution to invade you again in 1855. I
2 Cheney.
328 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
wish I could muster leisure or pluck, or both, for such an adventure. Let
me hope meanwhile that long ere '55 we may again see you and Everett
and Ticknor here, where surely you must all feel very tolerably at home.
Believe me always very sincerely yours,
J. G. LOCKHAKT.
December 27, 1860.
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE.
BOSTON, January 14, 1851.
MY DEAR CARLISLE,
I have the pleasure of sending you by this steamer a work of which I
happen to have two copies, containing the portraits of some dozen Yankee
notabilities, which may perhaps interest you. The likenesses, taken from
daguerrotypes, are sometimes frightfully, odiously like. But some of the
heads, as those of Taylor, our present President, besides being true, are
not unpleasing likenesses. The biographical sketches are written for the
most part, as you will see, in the Ercles vein. My effigy Was taken in
New York, about an hour before I sailed for England, when I had rather
a rueful and lackadaisical aspect. The biographical notice of me is better
done than most of them, in point of literary execution, being written by
our friend Ticknor.
Pray thank your brother Charles for his kindness in sending me out the
reports of your Lectures. I, as well as the rest of your friends here, and
many more that know you not, have read them with great pleasure, and,
I trust, edification. The dissertation on your travels has been reprinted
all over the country, and, as far as I know, with entire commendation.
Indeed, it would be churlish enough to take exception at the very liberal
and charitable tone of criticism which pervades it. If you are not blind
to our defects, it gives much higher value to your approbation, and you
are no niggard of that, certainly. Even your reflections on the black
plague will not be taken amiss by the South, since they are of that abstract
kind which can hardly be contested, while you do not pass judgment on
the peculiar difficulties of our position, which considerably disturbs the
general question. Your remarks on me went to my heart. They were
just what I would wish you to have said, and, as I know they came from
your heart, I will not thank you for them. On the whole, you have set
an excellent example, which, I trust, will be followed by others of your
order. But few will have it in their power to do good as widely as you
have done, since there are very few whose remarks will be read as exten-
sively, and with the same avidity, on both sides of the water.
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE.
BOSTON, U. S., January 27, 1851.
MY DEAR CARLISLE,
I wrote you from the country that, when I returned to town, I should
lose no time in endeavoring to look up a good painting of the Falls of
Niagara. I have not neglected this ; but, though I found it easy enough
LETTER TO LORD CARLISLE. 329
to get paintings of the grand cataract, I have not till lately been able to
meet with what I wanted. I will tell you how this came about. When
Bulwer, your Minister, was here, I asked him, as he has a good taste in
the arts, to see if he could meet with any good picture of Niagara while
he was in New York. Some time after, he wrote me that he had met
with " a very beautiful picture of the Falls, by a Frenchman." It so
happened, that I had seen this same picture much commended in the New
York papers, and I found that the artist's name was Lebron, a person of
whom I happened to know something, as a letter from the Viscount San-
tarem, in Paris, commended him to me as a " very distinguished artist,"
but the note arriving last summer, while I was absent, I had never seen
Mr. Lebron. I requested my friend, Mr. , of New York, on whose
judgment I place more reliance than on that of any other connoisseur
whom I know, and who has himself a very pretty collection of pictures, to
write me his opinion of the work. He fully confirmed Buhver's report ;
and I accordingly bought the picture, which is now in my own house.
It is about five feet by three and a half, and exhibits, which is the most
difficult thing, an entire view of the Falls, both on the Canada and Amer-
ican side. The great difficulty to overcome is the milky shallowness of
the waters, where the foam diminishes so much the apparent height of the
cataract. I think you will agree that the artist has managed this very
well. In the distance a black thunder-storm is bursting over Goat Island
and the American Falls. A steamboat, " The Maid of the Mist," which
has been plying for some years on the river below, forms an object by
which the eye can measure, in some degree, the stupendous proportions
of the cataract. On the edge of the Horseshoe Fall is the fragment of a
ferry-boat which, more than a year since, was washed down to the brink
of the precipice, and has been there detained until within a week, when, I
see by the papers, it has been carried over into the abyss. I mention these
little incidents that you may understand them, being something different
from what you saw when you were at Niagara ; and perhaps you may
recognize some change in the form of the Table-Rock itself, some tons of
which, carrying away a carriage and horses standing on it at the time,
slipped into the gulf a year or more since.
I shall send the painting out by the " Canada," February 12th, being
the first steamer which leaves this port for Liverpool, and, as I have been
rather unlucky in some of my consignments, I think it will be as safe to
address the box at once to you, and it will await your order at Liverpool,
where it will probably arrive the latter part of February.
I shall be much disappointed if it does not please you well enough to
hang upon your walls as a faithful representation of the great cataract ;
and I trust you will gratify me by accepting it as a souvenir of your friend
across the water. I assure you it pleases me much to think there is any-
thing I can send you from this quarter of the world which will give you
pleasure
Pray remember me most affectionately to your mother and sister, who,
I suppose, are now in town with you.
And believe me, dearest Carlisle,
Ever faithfully yours,
W. H. PRESCOTT.
330 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
TO THE EAEL OF CARLISLE.
BOSTON, May 29, 1851.
MY DEAR CARLISLE,
I am off in a couple of days for the great cataract. I like to refresh
my recollections of it every few years by a visit in person ; and I have a
pleasant party to accompany me. I wish you were one of them. How I
should like to stroll through the woods of Goat Island with you, my dear
Carlisle, and talk over the pleasant past, made so pleasant the last year by
you and yours. By the by, the Duke of Argyll sent me an address which
he made some time since at Glasgow, in which he made the kindest men-
tion of me. It was a very sensible discourse, and I think it would be well
for the country if more of the aristocracy were to follow the example,
which you and he have set, of addressing the people on other topics besides
those of a political or agricultural nature, the two great hobbies of
John Bull.
So you perceive Sumner is elected after twenty ballotings. His posi-
tion will be a difficult one. He represents a coalition of the Democratic
and Free-Soil parties, who have little relation to one another. And in
the Senate the particular doctrine which he avows finds no favor. I
believe it will prove a bed filled more with thorns than with roses. I had
a long talk with him yesterday, and I think he feels it himself. It is to
las credit that he has not committed himself by any concessions to secure
his election. The difficulty with Sumner as a statesman is, that he aims
at the greatest abstract good instead of the greatest good practicable. By
such a policy he misses even this lower mark ; not a low one either for a
philanthropist and a patriot.
You and your friends still continue to manage the ship notwithstanding
the rough seas you have had to encounter. I should think it must be a
perplexing office until your parties assume some more determinate charac-
ter, so as to throw a decided support into the government scale.
Pray remember me most affectionately to your mother and to Lady
Mary, and to the Duchess of Sutherland, whom I suppose you see often,
and believe me, my dear Carlisle,
Always most affectionately your friend,
W. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MRS. MILMAN.
BOSTON, February 16, 1852.
How kind it was in you, my dear Mrs. Milman, to write me such a
good letter, and I am afraid you will think little deserved by me. But if
I have not written, it is not that I have not thought often of the happy
days I have passed in your society and in that of my good friend the
Dean, God bless you both ! You congratulated me on the engagement
of my daughter. 3 It is a satisfactory circumstance for us every way ; and
8 Hi* only daughter to Mr. James Lawrence, eldest son of Mr. Abbott
Lawrence, who was then Minister of the United States in London.
LETTER TO MRS. MILMAN. 831
the character of thejianc^ is such, I believe, as to promise as much hap-
piness to the union as one could expect. Yet it is a hard thing to part
with a daughter, an only daughter, the light of one's home and one's
heart. The boys go off, as a thing of course ; for man is a migratory
animal. But a woman seems part of the household fixtures. Yet a little
reflection makes us feel that a good connection is far better than single
blessedness, especially in our country, where matrimony is the destiny of
so nearly all, that the few exceptions to it are in rather a lonely and
anomalous position.
What a delightful tour you must have had in Italy ! It reminds me of
wandering over the same sunny land, five and thirty years ago, a pro-
digious reminiscence. It is one of the charms of your situation that you
have but to cross a narrow strait of some twenty miles to find yourself
transported to a region as unlike your own as the moon, and, to say
truth, a good deal more unlike. This last coup d'etat shows, as Scriblerus
says,
" None but themselves can be their parallel."
I am very glad to learn from your letter that the Dean is making good
progress in the continuation of his noble work. I have always thought it
very creditable to the government that it has bestowed its church dignities
on one so liberal and tolerant as your husband. I do not think that the
royal patronage always dares to honor those in the Church, whom the
world most honors.
Have you seen Macaulay of late "? He told me that he should not
probably make his bow to the public again before 1853. It seems that his
conjecture was not wrong, the false newspapers notwithstanding. But one
learns not to believe a thing, for the reason that it is affirmed in the news-
papers. Our former Minister, Bancroft, has a volume in the press, a con-
tinuation of his American history, which will serve as a counterpart to
Lord Mahon's, exhibiting the other side of the tapestry.
I hope history is in possession of all the feuds that will ever take place
between the two kindred nations. In how amiable a way the correspond-
ence about the Prometheus has been conducted by Lord Granville ! John
Bull can afford to make apology when he is in the wrong. The present
state of things in Europe should rather tend to draw the only two great
nations where constitutional liberty exists more closely together.
I am very glad that our friend Mr. Hallam is to have the satisfaction
of seeing his daughter so well married. He has had many hard blows,
and this ray of sunshine will, I hope, light up his domestic hearth for the
evening of life. Pray present my congratulations most sincerely to him
and Miss Hallam.
We are now beginning to be busy with preparations for my daughter's
approaching nuptials, which will take place, probably, in about a month,
if some Paris toggery, furniture, &c., as indispensable as a bridegroom or
a priest, it 'seems, come in due time. The affair makes a merry stir in
our circle, in the way of festive parties, balls, and dinners. But in truth
there is a little weight lies at the bottom of my heart when I think that
332 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
the seat at her own board is to be forever vacant. Yet it is but a migra-
tion to the next street. How can parents consent to a match that places
an ocean betwixt them and their children ?
But I must bring my prosy talk to a close. I feel, now that I have my
pen in hand, that I am by your side, with your husband and your family,
and our friends the Lyells ; or perhaps rambling over the grounds of royal
Windsor, or through dark passages in the Tower, or the pleasant haunts
of Richmond Hill ; at the genial table of the charming lady " who came
out in Queen Anne's day," or many other places with which your memory
and your husband's, your kindly countenances and delightful talk, are all
associated. When I lay my head on my pillow, the forms of the dear
friends gather round me, and sometimes I have the good luck to see them
in midnight visions, and I wake up and find it all a dream.
Pray remember me most kindly to the Dean and your sons, and to
Lady Lyell, whom, I suppose, you often see, and believe me, my dear
Mrs. Milman,
Always most affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE.
BOSTON, April 7, 1852.
DEAREST CARLISLE,
Lawrence wrote me a little while since that you remarked you could
now say for once that I was in your debt. It may be so ; but I wonder
if I have not given you two to one, or some such odds. But no matter ;
in friendship, as in love, an exact tally is not to be demanded.
Since I had last the pleasure of hearing from you, there has been a
great revolution in your affairs, and the ins have become outs. Is it not
an awkward thing to be obliged to face about, and take just the opposite
tacks ; to be always on the attack instead of the defence ! What a
change ! First to break with your Minister of Foreign Affairs, who was
in so much glory, fighting the battle so stoutly when I was in London !
And then to break up altogether, and surrender the field to the Protec-
tionists ! We are most of us protectionists, more or less, in my part of
the country, with which doctrines I found very little sympathy when I
was in England. I wonder if that policy can possibly get the upper hand
again with you. The revocare gradum is always a difficult step, more dif-
ficult than any two forward. Can the present Cabinet possibly stand on
one leg, and that the lame one of protection ? We at the North have
long been trying to get the scale of duties raised, but in vain. Nil re-
trorsum. What hot work you will have in the coming election ! It would
be almost worth a voyage to see. Yet I doubt if any candidate will
spend a hundred thousand upon it, as was the case, I believe, in your own
county not many years ago.
Sumner has not been anxious to make a display in Congress. In this
he has judged well. The session has been a tame one, so far. He made
a short speech on the Kossuth business, and a very good one ; since
that, a more elaborate effort on the distribution of our wild lands, so as to
LETTER TO LORD CARLISLE. 333
favor the new, unsettled States. According to our way of thinking, he
was not so successful here. I suppose he provides you with his parlia-
mentary eloquence. We are expecting Kossuth here before long. I am
glad he takes us last. I should be sorry that we should get into a scrape
by any ill-advised enthusiasm. He has been preaching up doctrines of
intervention (called by him non-intervention) by no means suited to our
policy, which, as our position affords us the means of keeping aloof,
should be to wash our hands of all the troubles of the Old World.
What troubles you are having now, in France especially. But revolu-
tion is the condition of a Frenchman's existence apparently. Can that
country long endure the present state of things, the days of Augustus
Csesar over again ?
Have you seen Bancroft's new volume ? I think this volume, which
has his characteristic merits and defects, showy, sketchy, and full of bold
speculations, will have interest for you. Lord Mahon is on the same
field, surveying it from an opposite point of view. So we are likely to
have the American Revolution well dissected by able writers on opposite
sides at the same time. The result will probably be doubt upon every-
thing.
In the newspaper of to-day is a letter, to be followed by two others,
addressed to Bryant, the poet-editor of the New York " Evening Post,"
from Sparks, himself the editor of Washington's papers. I think you
must have known Sparks here. He is now the President of Harvard Uni-
versity, the post occupied by Everett after his return. Sparks has been
sharply handled for the corruption of the original text of Washington, as
appeared by comparisons of some of the originals with his printed copy.
Lord Mahon, among others, has some severe strictures on him in his last
volume. Sparks's letters are in vindication of himself, on the ground that
the alterations are merely verbal, to correct bad grammar and obvious
blunders, which Washington would have corrected himself, had he pre-
pared his correspondence for the press. He makes out a fair case for
himself, and any one who knows the integrity of Sparks will give him
credit for what he states. As he has some reflections upon Lord Mahon's
rash criticism, as he terms it, I doubt not he will send him a copy, or I
would do it, as I think he would like to see the explanation.
I suppose you breakfast sometimes with Macaulay, and that he dines
sometimes with you. I wish I could be with you at both. I suppose he
is busy on his new volume. When will the new brace be bagged ? I
remember he prophesied to me not before 1853, and I was very glad to
hear from him, that his great success did not make him hurry over that
historic ground. A year or two extra is well spent on a work destined to
live forever.
And now, my dear friend, I do not know that there is anything here
that I can tell you of that will much interest you. I am poddering over
my book; still Philippizing, But " it is a far cry to Loch Awe" ; which
place, far as it is, by the by, I saw on my last visit to Europe under such
delightful auspices, with the Lord of the Campbells and his lovely lady,
God preserve them ! I have been quite industrious, for me, this winter,
in spite of hymeneal merry-making, and am now on my second volume.
But it is a terrible subject, so large and diffuse, the story of Europe.
334 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
I told Bentley to send Lady Mary a copy of my " Miscellanies " two
months since, which contains an engraved portrait of me from a picture
by Phillips, painted when in London for Mr. Stirling. The engraving is
a good one ; better, I suspect, than the likeness
You will think, by the length of my yarn, that I really think you are
returned to private life again, and have nothing in the world to do. But
a host of pleasant recollections gather round me while I converse with you
across the waters, and I do not like to break the spell. But it is time.
I must not close without thanking you for the kind congratulations which
you sent me some weeks since on my daughter's approaching nuptials.
It is all over now, and I am childless, and yet fortunate, if it must be so.
Does not your sister the Duchess part with her last unmarried daughter
very soon ? The man is fortunate, indeed, who is to have such a bride.
Pray say all that is kind for me to the Duchess, whose kindness to me is
among the most cherished of my recollections in my pleasant visit to merry
England.
Farewell, dear Carlisle. Believe me always
Affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, April 18, 1852.
MY DEAR LADY LYELL,
Since I last wrote, we have had another wedding in my family, as you
have no doubt heard. Indeed, you prove how well you are posted up
about us, and the kind part you take in our happiness, by the little souvenir
which you sent to Lizzy at the time of the marriage. 4 We like to have
the sympathy of those who are dear to us in our joys and our sorrows.
I am sure we shall always have yours in both, though I hope it will be
long before we have to draw on it for the latter. Yet when did the sun
shine long without a cloud, lucky, if without a tempest. We have had
one cloud in our domestic circle the last fortnight, in the state of my
mother's health. She was confined to the house this spring by an injury,
in itself not important, to her leg. But the inaction, to which she is so little
accustomed, has been followed by loss of strength, and she does not rally as
I wish she did. Should summer ever bless us, of which I have my doubts,
I trust she will regain the ground she has lost. But I guess and fear !
Eighty-five is a heavy load ; hard to rise under. It is like the old man in
the Arabian Nights, that poor Sinbad could not shake off from his shoulders.
Elizabeth's marriage has given occasion to a good deal of merry-making,
and our little society has been quite astir in spite of Lent. Indeed, the
only Fast-day which the wicked Unitarians keep is that appointed by the
Governor as the " day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer." It comes
always in April. We keep it so appropriately, that I could not help re-
marking the other day, that it would be a pity to have it abolished, as we
have so few fete days in our country.
4 The marriage of his only daughter to Mr. Lawrence, already mentioned.
CHAPTER XXIV.
1852.
POLITICAL OPINIONS. CORRESPONDENCE WITH MR. BANCROFT, MR. EV-
ERETT, AND MR. SUMNER. CONVERSATION ON POLITICAL SUBJECTS.
OF Mr. Prescott's political opinions there is little to be said.
That he was sincerely and faithfully attached to his coun-
try to his whole country nobody ever doubted who heard
him speak on the subject. His letters when he was in Eng-
land, flattered as few men have been by English hospitality,
are as explicit on this point as was the expression of his every-
day feelings and thoughts at home. But, with all his patriotic
loyalty, he took little interest in the passing quarrels of the
political parties that, at different times, divided and agitated
the country. They were a disturbing element in the quiet,
earnest pursuit of his studies ; and such elements, whatever
they might be, or whencesoever they might come, he always
rejected with a peculiar sensitiveness ; anxious, under all eir-
cumstances, to maintain the even, happy state of mind to
which his nature seemed to entitle him, and which he found
important to continuous work. He was wont to say, that he
dealt with political discussions only when they related to events
and persons at least two centuries old.
Of friends who were eminent in political affairs he had not
a few ; but his regard for them did not rest on political grounds.
With Mr. Everett, whom he knew early during his college life,
and who, as Secretary of State, represented the old Whig par-
ty, he had always the most kindly intercourse, and received
from him, as we have seen, while that gentleman was residing
in Italy in 1840 and 1841, and subsequently while he so ably
represented the United States as our Minister in London, effi-
cient assistance in collecting materials for the " History of
Philip the Second." With Mr. Bancroft, who had an inherited
claim on his regard, and whom he knew much from 1822, he
336 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
stood in relations somewhat more intimate and familiar, and
always maintained them, though he never sympathized with
his friend in the decidedly democratical tendencies that have
marked his brilliant career as a statesman. With Mr. Sumner
his personal acquaintance began later, not till the return of
that gentleman from Europe in 1840 ; but from the first, it
was cordial, and in the last two or three years of his life he
took much interest in the questions that arose about Kansas,
and voted for Mr. Fremont as President in preference to either
of the other candidates. During his whole life, however, he
belonged essentially, both in his political feelings and in his
political opinions, as his father always did, to the conservative,
school of Washington and Hamilton, as its doctrines are re-
corded and developed in the " Federalist."
With the three eminent men just referred to, whom all will
recognize as marking with the lustre of their names the oppo-
site corners of the equilateral triangle formed by the three
great political parties that at different times during Mr. Pres-
cott's life preponderated in the country, he had a correspond-
ence, sometimes interrupted by the changing circumstances of
their respective positions, but always kindly and interesting.
The political questions of the day appeared in it, of course,
occasionally. But whenever this occurred, it was rather by
accident than otherwise. The friendship of the parties had
been built on other foundations, and always rested on them
safely.
The earliest letters to Mr. Bancroft that I have seen are
two or three between 1824 and 1828 ; but they are unimpor-
tant for any purposes of biography. The next one is of 1831,
and is addressed to Northampton, Massachusetts, where Mr.
Bancroft then lived.
TO MB. BANCROFT.
BOSTON, April 30, 1831.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
We jog on in much the same way here, and, as we are none of us
Jacksonists, care little for the upsetting of cabinets, or any other mad
pranks, which doubtless keep you awake at Northampton, for I perceive
LETTER TO ME. BANCROFT. 337
you are doing as many a misguided man has done before you, quitting
the sweets of letters for the thorny path of politics. I must say I had
rather drill Greek and Latin into little boys all my life, than take up with
this trade in our country. However, so does not think Mr. , nor
Mr. , nor Mr. &c., &c., &c., who are much better qualified to carry
off all the prizes in literature than I can be. . Your article on the Bank
of the United States produced quite a sensation, and a considerable con-
trariety of opinion. 1 Where will you break out next ? I did not think
to see you turn out a financier in your old age ! I have just recovered
from a fit of sickness, which has confined me to my bed for a fortnight.
I think the weather will confine me to the house another fortnight. Do
you mean to make a flying trip to our latitudes this vacation ? We
should be glad to see you. In the mean time I must beg you to commend
me to your wife, and believe me,
Most affectionately your friend,
WM. H. PKESCOTT.
TO MR. BANCROFT.
PEPPEEELL, October 4, 1837.
MY DEAR BANCROFT,
Since we returned here, I have run through your second volume with
much pleasure. 2 I had some misgivings that the success of the first, 8 and
still more that your political hobbyism, might have made you, if not
careless, at least less elaborate. ' But I see no symptoms of it. On the
contrary, you have devoted apparently ample investigation to all the great
topics of interest. The part you have descanted on less copiously than I
had anticipated perhaps from what I had heard you say yourself was
the character and habits of the Aborigines ; but I don't know that you
have not given as ample space to them considering, after all, they are
but incidental to the main subject as your canvas would allow. 4 You
certainly have contrived to keep the reader wide awake, which, consider-
ing that the summary nature of the work necessarily excluded the interest
derived from a regular and circumstantial narrative, is a great thing. As
you have succeeded so well in this respect, in the comparatively barren
parts of the subject, you cannot fail as you draw nearer our own times.
I see you are figuring on the Van Buren Committee for concocting a
public address. Why do you coquet with such a troublesome termagant
as politics, when the glorious Muse of History opens her arms to receive
you? I can't say I comprehend the fascination of such a mistress; for
winch, I suppose, you will commiserate me.
Well, I am just ready to fly from my perch, in the form of three pon-
1 An article in the " North American Review," by Mr. Bancroft.
2 Then just published.
Published in 1834.
* The sketch of the Indians was reserved for Mr. Bancroft's third volume,
and was, in fact, made with a great deal of care.
15 v
338 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
derous oetavos. Don't you think there will be a great eagerness to pay
seven dollars and a half for an auld warld's tale of the fifteenth century,
in these rub-and-go times ? 5 You are more fortunate than I, for all who
have bought your first, will necessarily buy the second volume ; as sub-
scribers to a railroad are obliged to go on deeper and deeper with the
creation of new stock, in order to make the old of any value, as I have
found by precious experience. Nevertheless, I shall take the field in De-
cember, Deo volente, all being in readiness now for striking off, except the
paper.
With the sincere hope that your family continue in health, and that you
may be blessed yourself with good health and restored spirits, I am
Ever truly yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO ME. BANCROFT.
Saturday P. M. (indorsed May 5, 1838.)
DEAR BANCROFT,
I return the review with my hearty thanks. 9 I think it is one of the
most delightful tributes ever paid by friendship to authorship. And I
think it is written in your very happiest manner. I do not believe, in es-
timating it so, I am misled by the subject, or the writer, for I have not
been very easy to please on the score of puffs, of which I have had full
measure, you know, from my good-natured friends. But the style of the
piece is gorgeous, without being over-loaded, and the tone of sentiment
most original, without the least approach to extravagance or obscurity.
Indeed, the originality of the thoughts and the topics touched on consti-
tute its great charm, and make the article, even at this eleventh hour,
when so much has been said on the subject, have all the freshness of nov-
elty. In this I confess, considering how long it had been kept on the
shelf, I am most agreeably disappointed. As to the length, it is, taken
in connection with the sort of critique, just the thing. It will terrify none
from venturing on it, and I am sure a man must be without relish for the
beautiful, who can lay it down without finishing.
Faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
P. S. There is one thing which I had like to have forgotten, but
which I shall not forgive. You have the effrontery to speak of my hav-
ing passed the prime of life, some dozen years ago. Why, my youthful
friend, do you know what the prime of life is ? Moliere shall tell you :
" He bien ! qu'est ce que cela, soixante ans ? C'est la fleur de Page cela."
Prime of life, indeed ! People will think the author is turned of seventy.
He was a more discreet critic that called me " young and modest " !
6 There were heavy financial troubles in the winter of 1837 - 8.
The article in the " Democratic Review," by Mr. Bancroft, on the " Fer-
dinand and Isabella." It has been noticed ante, p. 104.
LETTER TO MR. SUMNEB. 339
TO MR. BANCROFT.
Thursday morning, November 1, 1838.
DEAR BANCROFT,
I return you Carlyle with my thanks. I have read as much of him as
I could stand. After a very candid desire to relish him, I must say I do
not at all. I think he has proceeded on a wrong principle altogether.
The French Revolution is a most lamentable comedy (as Nick Bottom
says) of itself, and requires nothing but the simplest statement of facts to
freeze one's blood. To attempt to color so highly what nature has al-
ready overcolored is, it appears to me, in very bad taste, and produces a
grotesque and ludicrous effect, the very opposite of the sublime or beauti-
ful. Then such ridiculous affectations of new-fangled words ! Carlyle is
even a bungler at his own business ; for his creations, or rather combina-
tions, in this way, are the most discordant and awkward possible. As he
runs altogether for dramatic, or rather picturesque effect, he is not to be
challenged, I suppose for want of original views. This forms no part of
his plan. His views certainly, as far as I can estimate them, are trite
enough. And, in short, the whole thing, in my humble opinion, both as
to forme and to fond, is perfectly contemptible. Two or three of his arti-
cles in the Reviews are written in a much better manner, and with eleva-
tion of thought, if not with originality. But affectation,
" The trail of the serpent is over them all."
Mercy on us, you will say, what have I done to bring such a shower of
twaddle about my ears ? Indeed, it is a poor return for your kindness in
lending me the work, and will' discourage you in future, no doubt. But
to say truth, I have an idle hour ; my books are putting up. 7
Thierry I will keep longer, with your leave. He says " he has made
friends with darkness." There are we brothers.
Faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. SUMNER. 8
BOSTON, April 18, 1839.
MY DEAR SIR,
Our friend Hillard 9 read to me, yesterday, some extracts from a recent
letter of yours, in which you speak of your interviews with Mr. Ford, 10
1 For moving to town.
8 Mr. Sumner was then in Europe, and Mr. Prescott was not yet person-
ally acquainted with him.
George S. Hillard, Esq., author of the charming book, " Six Months in
Italy," first printed in 1853 in Boston, and subsequently in London, by Mur-
ray, since which it has become a sort of manual for travellers who visit
Florence and Rome.
1 Already noticed for his review in the " London Quarterly " of " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," and for his subsequent personal friendship with Mr.
Prescott.
340 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
who is to wield the scalping-knife over my bantling in the " Quarterly."
I cannot refrain from thanking you for your very efficient kindness to-
wards me in this instance, as well as for the very friendly manner in which
you have enabled me to become acquainted with the state of opinion on
the literary merits of my History in London. It is, indeed, a rare piece
of good fortune to be thus put in possession of the critical judgments of
the most cultivated society, who speak our native language. Such infor-
mation cannot be gathered from Reviews and Magazines, which put on a
sort of show dress for the public, and which are very often, too, executed
by inferior hands. Through my friend Ticknor, first, and subsequently
through you, I have had all the light I could desire ; and I can have no
doubt, that to the good-natured offices of both of you I am indebted for
those prestiges in my favor, which go a good way towards ultimate success.
I may truly say, that this success has not been half so grateful to my feel-
ings as the kind sympathy and good-will which the publication has drawn
forth from my countrymen, both at home and abroad.
Touching the " Quarterly," I had half a mind, when I learned
from your letters that it was to take up " Ferdinand and Isabella," to
send out the last American edition, for the use of the reviewer (who, to
judge from his papers in the " Quarterly," has a quick scent for blemishes,
and a very good knowledge of the Spanish ground), as it contains more
than a hundred corrections of inadvertencies and blunders, chiefly verbal,
in the first edition. It would be hard, indeed, to be damned for sins
repented of; but, on the whole, I could not make up my mind to do it,
as it looked something like a sop to Cerberus ; and so I determined to
leave their Catholic Highnesses to their fate. Thanks to your friendly
interposition, I have no doubt, this will be better than they deserve ; and,
should it be otherwise, I shall feel equally indebted to you. Any one who
has ever had a hand in concocting an article for a periodical knows quan-
tum valet. But the 01 TroXXoi know nothing about it, and of all journals
the "Edinburgh" and the "Quarterly" have the most weight with the
American, as with the English public.
You are now, I understand, on your way to Italy, after a campaign
more brilliant, I suspect, than was ever achieved by any of your country-
men before. You have, indeed, read a page of social life such as few
anywhere have access to ; for your hours have been passed with the great,
not merely with those born to greatness, but those who have earned it for
themselves,
" Colla penna e colla spada."
In your progress through Italy, it is probable you may meet with a
Florentine nobleman, the Marquis Capponi. 11 Mr. Ellis, 12 in a letter
from Rome, informed me, that he was disposed to translate " Eerdinand
and Isabella " into the Italian ; and at his suggestion I had a copy for-
warded to him from England, and have also sent a Yankee one, as more
free from inaccuracies. I only fear he may think it presumptuous. He
11 The Marquis Gino Cappoui. See ante, p. 175, note.
12 Rev. Dr. George E. Ellis, of Charlestown, Mass.
LETTER TO MR. EVERETT. 341
had never seen the book, and I can easily divme fifty reasons why he
would not choose to plague himself with the job of translating when he
has seen it. He is a man of great consideration, and probably fully occu-
pied in other ways. But after the intimation which was given me, I did
not choose to be deficient on my part ; and I only hope he may under-
stand, that I do not natter myself with the belief that he will do anything
more than take that sort of interest in the work which, as one of the lead-
ing savans in Italy, I should wish him to feel for it. I am sincerely
desirous to have the work known to Continental scholars who take an
interest in historical inquiries. I shall be obliged to you if you will say
this much to him, should you fall in with him.
I shall be further obliged to you, should you return to London, if you
will, before leaving it for the last time, ascertain from Bentley whether he
is making arrangements for another edition, and in what style. I should
be sorry to have the work brought out in an inferior dress, for the sake of
the toc/ter. Above all, he must get a rich portrait, coute que coute, of my
heroine. I have written him to this effect, and he has promised it, but
" it is a far cry to Loch Awe," and, when a man's publisher is three thou-
sand miles off, he will go his own gait. I believe, however, he is disposed
to do very fairly by me. Thus you see my gratitude for the past answers
the Frenchman's definition of it, a lively sense of favors to come. I
shall trust, however, without hesitation, to the same friendly spirit which
you have hitherto shown for my excuse in your eyes.
Adieu, my dear sir. With sincere wishes that the remainder of your
pilgrimage may prove as pleasant and profitable to you as the past must
have been, I am (if you will allow me to subscribe myself)
Very truly your obliged friend and servant,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MB. EVERETT. 18
BOSTON, May 21, 1840.
MY DEAR MR. EVERETT,
I enclose a note to Mr. Grahame, 14 who is now residing at Nantes for
the benefit of his daughter's health, who, as Mr. Ellis informs me, is
married to a son of Sir John Herschel.
Touching the kind offices I wish from you in Paris, it is simply to
ascertain if the Archives (the Foreign Archives, I think they are called)
under the care of Magnet contain documents relating to Spanish history
during the reign of Philip the Second. A Mr. Turnbull, 15 who, I see, is
now publishing his observations on this country and the West Indies,
assured me last year, that the French government under Bonaparte caused
the papers, or many of them, relating to this period, to be transferred
from Simancas to the office in Paris. Mr. Turnbull has spent some time
both in Madrid and Paris, and ought to know. If they are there, I should
like to know if I can obtain copies of such as I should have occasion for,
18 Mr. Everett was then about embarking for Europe.
14 J. Grahame, Esq., author of the History of the United States.
1 6 D. Turnbull, Esq., who published a book on Cuba, &c., in 1840.
342 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
and I shall be obliged by your advising me how this can best be done. I
shall not attempt to make a collection, which will require similar opera-
tions in the principal capitals of Europe, till I have learnt whether I can
succeed in getting what is now in Spain, which must be, after all, the
principal depot. My success in the Mexican collection affords a good
augury, but I fear the disordered condition of the Spanish archives will
make it very difficult. In the Mexican affair, the collections had been all
made by their own scholars, and I obtained access to them through the
Academy. For the " Philip the Second " I must deal with the govern-
ment. There is no hurry, you know, so that I beg you will take your
Own time and convenience for ascertaining the state of the case.
I return you the Lecture on Peru, in which you have filled up the out-
lines of your first. Both have been read by me with much pleasure and
profit ; though it must be some years before I shall work in those mines
myself, as I must win the capital of Montezuma first.
I pray you to offer my wife's and my own best wishes to Mrs. Everett,
and with the sincere hope that you may have nothing but sunny skies and
hours during your pilgrimage, believe me, my dear Mr. Everett,
Most truly and faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
FROM MR. EVERETT.
PARIS, July 27, 1840.
MY DEAR SIR,
I have lost no time in instituting inquiries as to the documents which
may be accessible in Paris, on the subject of Philip the Second. My first
recourse was to M. Mignet. He is the keeper of the Archives in the De-
partment of Foreign Affairs. From him I learned that his department
contains nothing older than the seventeenth century. I learned, however,
from him, that Napoleon, as Mr. Turnbull informed you, caused not only
a part, but the whole, of the archives of Simancas to be transferred to
Paris. On the downfall of the Empire, everything was sent back to
Spain, excepting the documents relating to the History of France, which,
somehow or other, remained. These documents are deposited in the
Archives du Royaume, Hotel Soubise. Among them is the correspondence
of the successive Ministers. of Spain in France with their government at
Madrid. These papers are often the originals ; they are not bound, nor
indexed, but tied up in liasses, and M. Mignet represented the labor of
examining them as very great. He showed me some of the bundles,
which he had been permitted to borrow from the Archives du Royaume, but
I did not perceive wherein the peculiar difficulty of examining them con-
sisted. He has examined and made extracts from a great mass of these
documents for the History of the Reformation which he is writing. He
showed me a large number of manuscript volumes, containing these
extracts, which he had caused to be made by four copyists. He had also
similar collections from Brussels, Cassel, and Dresden, obtained through
the agency of the French Ministers at those places. I have made an
arrangement to go to the Archives du Royaume next week, and see these
LETTER FROM MR. EVERETT. 343
documents. I think M. Mignet told me there were nearly three hundred
bundles, and, if I mistake not, all consisting of the correspondence of
the Ministers of Spain in France.
My next inquiry was at the Bibliotheque Royale. 10 The manuscripts
there are under the care of an excellent old friend of mine, Professor Hase,
who, in the single visit I have as yet made to the library, did everything
in his power to facilitate my inquiry. In this superb collection will, I
think, be found materials of equal importance to those contained in the
Archives da Royaume. A very considerable part of the correspondence of
the French Ministers at Madrid and Brussels, for the period of your
inquiry, is preserved, perhaps all ; and there are several miscellaneous
pieces of great interest if I may judge by the titles.
FROM ME. EVERETT.
PARIS, August 22, 1840.
MY DEAR SIE,
Since my former letter to you, I have made some further researches,
on the subject of materials for the History of Philip the Second. I passed
a morning at the Archives du Royaume, in the ancient Hotel Soubise,
inquiring into the subject of the archives of Simancas ; and in an inter-
view with M. Mignet, he was good enough to place in my hands a report
made to him, by some one employed by him, to examine minutely into
the character and amount of these precious documents. They consist of
two- hundred and eighty-four bundles, as I informed you in my former
letter, and some of these bundles contain above a couple of hundred pieces.
They are tied up and numbered, according to some system of Spanish
arrangement, the key of which (if there ever was any) is lost. They do not
appear to follow any order, either chronological, alphabetical, or that of
subjects; and an ill-written, but pretty minute catalogue of some of the
first bundles in the series is the only guide to their contents. M. Mignet's
amanuensis went through the whole mass, and looked at each separate
paper ; and this, I think, is the only way in which a perfectly satisfactory
knowledge of the contents of the collection can be obtained. I had time
only to look at two bundles. I took them at a venture, being Liasses A
( 55 and A 56 ; selecting them, because I saw in the above-named catalogue
1 that they contained papers which fell within* the period of the reign of
Philip the Second. I soon discovered that these documents were far from
being confined to the correspondence of the Spanish Ministers in France.
On the contrary, I believe, not a paper of that description was contained
in the bundles I looked at. There were, however, a great number of
original letters of Philip himself to his foreign Ministers. They appeared
in some cases to be original draughts, sometimes corrected in his own
handwriting. Sometimes they were evidently the official copies, originally
made for the purpose of being preserved in the archives of the Spanish
government. In one case, a despatch, apparently prepared for transmis-
sion, and signed by Philip, but for some reason not sent, was preserved
i Now the Bibliotheque Imperial*.
344 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
with the official copy. In some cases there were letters in several differ-
ent states, from a first draught, through one or two corrected forms, till
the letter was reduced to a satisfactory condition. This was strikingly the
case with the Latin letter to Elizabeth of England, of 23d August, 1581,
warmly expostulating against the reception of Portuguese fugitives, and
particularly Don Antonio, and threatening war if his wishes were not
complied with. Further reflection, perhaps, convinced Philip, that this
kind of logic was not the best adapted to persuade Queen Elizabeth, and a
draught of another letter, minus the threat, is found in the bundle. Of
some of the letters of Philip I could not form a satisfactory idea whether
they were originals or copies, and if the latter, in what stage prepared.
Those of this class had an indorsement, purporting that they were " in
cipher," in whole or in part. Whether they were deciphered copies of
originals in cipher, or whether the indorsement alluded to was a direction
to have them put in cipher, I could not tell. It is, in fact, a point of no
great importance, though of some curiosity in the literary history of the
materials.
Besides letters of Philip, there are official documents and reports of
almost every description ; and I should think, from what I saw of the
contents of the collection, that they consist of the official papers emanating
from and entering the private cabinet of the king, and filed away, the first
in an authentic copy, the last in the original, from day to day. The let-
ters of Philip, though not in his handwriting, were evidently written
under his dictation ; and I confess, the cursory inspection I was able to
give them somewhat changed my notion of his character. I supposed he
left the mechanical details of government to his Ministers, but these papers
exhibit ample proof that he himself read and answered the letters of his
ambassadors. Whether, however, this was the regular official correspond-
ence with the foreign Ministers, or a private correspondence kept up by
the Bang, of which his Secretaries of State were uninformed, I do not
know ; but from indications, which I will not take up your time in
detailing, I should think the former. Among the papers is a holograph
letter of Francis the First to the wife of Charles the Fifth, after the
treaty of Madrid, by which he recovered his liberty. They told me, at
the Archives, that no obstacles existed to copying these documents, and
that it would be easy to find persons competent to examine and transcribe
them.
TO ME. EVERETT.
NAHANT, September 1, 1840.
MY DEAR SIR,
I have received your letter of the 27th of July, and it was certainly
very kind of you to be willing to bury yourself in a musty heap of parch-
ments so soon after your arrival in the most brilliant and captivating of
European capitals. I should have asked it from no one, and should have
been surprised at it in almost any other person. Your memoranda show
that, as I had anticipated, a large store of original materials for Philip the
LETTER TO MR. EVERETT. 345
Second's reign is in the public libraries there ; possibly enough to author,
ize me to undertake the history without other resources, though still I can-
not but suppose that the Spanish archives must contain much of para-
mount importance not existing elsewhere. I have received from Middle-
ton this very week a letter, informing me that he and Dr. Lembke, my
agent in Madrid, have been promised the support of several members of
government and influential persons in making the investigations there.
By a paper, however, which he sends me from the archivero of Simancas, I
fear, from the multitude and disorderly state of the papers, there will be
great embarrassment in accomplishing my purpose. I wrote some months
since to Dr. Lembke, who is a German scholar, very respectable, and
a member of the Spanish Academy, and who has selected my documents
for the " Conquest of Mexico," that, if I could get access to the Madrid
libraries for the " Philip the Second " documents, I should wish to com-
plete the collection by the manuscripts from Paris, and should like to have
him take charge of it. It so happens, as I find by the letter received
from Middleton, that Lembke is now in Paris, and is making researches
relating to "Philip the Second's reign. This is an odd circumstance.
Lembke tells him (Middleton) he has found many, and has selected some
to be copied, and that he thinks he shall " be able to obtain Mignet's per-
mission to have such documents as are useful to me copied from his great
collection."
TO ME. EVERETT.
BOSTON, February 1, 1841.
MY DEAR SIR,
I must thank you for your obliging letter of November 27th, in which
you gave me some account of your disasters by the floods, and, worse,
from illness of your children. . I trust the last is dissipated entirely under
the sunny skies of Florence. How the very thought of that fair city calls
up the past, and brushes away the mists of a quarter of a century ! For
nearly that time has elapsed since I wandered a boy on the banks of the
Arno.
Here all is sleet and " slosh," and in-doors talk of changes, political
not meteorological, when the ins are to turn outs. There is some perplex-
ity about a Senator to Congress, much increased by your absence and J.
Q. Adams's presence. Abbott Lawrence, who was a prominent candidate,
has now withdrawn. It seems more fitting, indeed, that he should repre-
sent us in the House than the Senate. Both Choate " and Dexter 18 have
been applied to, and declined. But it is now understood that Mr. C. will
consent to go. The sacrifice is great for one who gives up the best prac-
tice, perhaps, in the Commonwealth.
If you remain abroad, I trust, for the credit of the country, it will be
in some official station, which is so often given away to unworthy par-
tisans. There is no part of our arrangements, probably, which lowers us
" The Hon. Rufus Choate.
18 The Hon. Franklin Dexter, Mr. Prescott's brother-in-law.
15*
346 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
so much in foreign estimation, as the incompetence, in one way or another,
of our representatives abroad.
I have received the books from the Marquis Capponi of which he spoke
to you, and also a very kind letter informing me of the ai-rangements for
the translation of the Catholic Kings into the beautiful tongue of Petrarch
and Dante. I see, from the Prospectus which he sends me, that I am
much honored by the company of the translated. The whole scheme is a
magnificent one, and, if it can be carried through, cannot fail to have a
great influence on the Italians, by introducing them to modes of thinking
very different from their own. I suppose, however, the censorship still
holds its shears. It looks as if the change so long desired in the copy-
right laws was to be brought about, or the Associates could hardly expect
indemnification for their great expenses. Signer Capponi is, I believe, a
person of high accomplishments, and social as well as literary eminence.
In my reply to him, I have expressed my satisfaction that he should have
seen you, and taken the liberty to notice the position you have occupied in
your own country ; though it may seem ridiculous, or at least superfluous,
from me, as it is probable he knows it from many other sources.
I am much obliged by your communication respecting the " Relazioni
degli Ambasciatori Veneti." It is a most important work, and I have a
copy, sent me by Mariotti. The subsequent volumes (only three are now
published) will cover the reign of Philip the Second and supply 'most
authentic materials for his history, and I must take care to provide myself
with them. 19 When you visit Rome, if you have any leisure, I shall be
obliged by your ascertaining if there are documents in the Vatican ger-
mane to this subject. Philip was so good a son of the Church, that I
think there must be. Should you visit Naples, and meet with an old gen-
tleman there, Count Camaldoli, pray present my sincere respects to him.
He has done me many kind offices, and is now interesting himself in. get-
ting some documents from the archives of the Duke of Monte Leone, the
representative of Cortes, who lives, or vegetates, in Sicily.
Lembke is now in Paris, and at work for me. Sparks is also there, as
you know, I suppose. He has found out some rich deposits of manu-
scripts relating to Philip, in the British Museum. The difficulty will be,
I fear, in the embarras de richesses. The politics of Spain in that reign
were mixed up with those of every court in Europe. Isabel's were for-
tunately confined to Italy and the Peninsula.
I pray you to remember us all kindly to your wife, and to believe me,
my dear Mr. Everett,
Most truly your obliged friend,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
19 The " Relazioni degli Ambasciatori Veneti," published by Professor
Eugenic Alberi, of Florence, a scholar whose learning fits him singularly
for the task. The first volume was published in 1839, and I think the fif-
teenth and last has recently appeared. Meantime Signer Alberi has edited,
with excellent skill, the works of Galileo, in sixteen volumes, 1842 - 1856.
He assisted Mr. Prescott in other ways.
LETTER FROM MR, EVERETT. 347
FROM ME. EVERETT.
FLORENCE, September 21, 1841.
MY DEAR SIR,
I duly received your favor of the 30th of April. I delayed answering
it till I should have executed your commissions, which, upon the whole, I
have done to my satisfaction. I immediately addressed a note to the
Marquis Gino Capponi, embodying the substance of what you say on the
subject of his offer to furnish you with copies of his " Venetian Rela-
tions." He was then absent on a journey to Munich, which I did not
know at the time. He has since returned, but I have not seen him.
Since the loss of his sight, he leads a very secluded life, and is, I think,
rarely seen but at M. Vieusseux's Thursday-evening Conversaziones ; which,
as I have been in the country all summer, I have not attended. I infer
from not hearing from him, that he thinks the " Relazioni " will be pub-
lished within five years, and that consequently it will not be worth while
to have them transcribed. But I shall endeavor to see him before my de-
parture. The Count Pietro Guicciardini readily placed in my hands the
manuscripts mentioned by you in yours of the 30th of April, which I
have had copied at a moderate rate of compensation. They form two hun-
dred pages of the common-sized foolscap paper, with a broad margin, but
otherwise economically written, the lines near each other, and the hand
quite close, though very legible. I accidentally fell upon copies of two
autograph letters of Philip the Second, the one to the Pope, the other
to the Queen of Portugal, on the subject of the imprisonment of Don
Carlos, while I was in search of something else in the Magliabecchian.
They are not intrinsically very interesting. But, considering the author
and the subject, as they are short, each two pages, I had them copied. I
experienced considerable difficulty in getting the document in the " Ar-
chivio Mediceo " copied. For causes which I could not satisfactorily trace,
the most wearisome delays were interposed at every step, and I despaired
for some time of success. The Grand Duke, to whom I applied in per-
eon, referred the matter, with reason, to the Minister. The Minister was
desirous of obliging me, but felt it necessary to take the opinion of the
Official Superintendent of the department, who happens to be the Attor-
ney-General, who is always busy with other matters. He referred it to
the Chief Archivist, and he to the Chief Clerk. Fortunately the Archivio
is quite near my usual places of resort ; and, by putting them in mind of
the matter frequently, I got it, after six weeks, into a form in which the
Minister, Prince Corsini, felt warranted in giving a peremptory order in
my favor.
FROM MR. EVERETT.
LONDON, April 30, 1842.
MY DEAR Sir,
I have to thank you for your letter of the 27th March, which I have
just received, and I am afraid that of the 29th December, which you sent
348 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
me by Mr. Gayangos, is also still to be acknowledged. After playing
bo-peep with that gentleman all winter, I requested him to give me the
favor of his company at breakfast to-day. I had Mr. Hallam and Lord
Mahon, who has been in Spain, with other friends, to meet him, and
found him an exceedingly pleasant, intelligent person. I hope to see
more of him during the summer, which he passes here.
Mr. Rich sent me the other day a copy of the third edition of your
book, for which I am truly obliged to you. I find your History wherever
I go, and there is no American topic which is oftener alluded to in all the
circles which I frequent, whether literary or fashionable. It is a matter
of general regret that you are understood to pass over the reign of Charles
the Fifth in your plans for the future. Mr. Denison expressed himself
very strongly to that effect the other day, and, though everybody does
justice to the motive as a feeling on your part, I must say that I have not
conversed with a single person who thinks you ought to consider the
ground as preoccupied by Robertson. He was avowedly ignorant of all
the German sources, had but partial access to the Spanish authorities, and
wrote history in a manner which does not satisfy the requirements of the
present day.
I am glad you are not disappointed in the manuscripts I procured you
at Florence. The account of the Tuscan Minister at Madrid is of course
to be read with some allowance for the strong disposition he would have
to see everything in the most favorable light, in consequence of his
master's desire to conciliate the favor of Philip the Second. The con-
tents of the Archives of Simancas, which M. de Gayangos will get you
at Paris, whatever they may do for the moral character of Philip, will
throw new light on his prodigious capacity for business. The conduct
of the affairs of his mighty empire seems to have centred in his own
person
Pray remember my wife and myself most kindly to your parents and
Mrs. Prescott, and believe me ever most faithfully yours,
EDWARD EVERETT.
TO MR. SUMNER.
PEPPERELL, September 11, 1842.
Many thanks for your kind proposition, my dear Sumner. My wife's
veto is not the only one to be deprecated in the matter. 20 You forgot the
Conquistador, Cortes, a much more inexorable personage. He will not
grant me a furlough for a single day. In truth, ague, company, and the
terrible transition week 21 a word of horror have so eaten into my
time of late, that I must buckle on harness now in good earnest. I
don't know anything that would please me better than the trip to New
York with you, except, indeed, to shake hands once more with Morpeth.
But that pleasure I must forego. I shall trouble you, however, with a
20 To visit New York with Mr. Sumner, in order to take leave of Lord
Morpeth, then about to embark for England.
21 Moving from Pepperell to Boston, always annoying to him.
LETTER TO MR. EVERETT. 349
note to him, and will send it to you by the 20th. If you should leave
before that, let me know, as I will not fail to write to him. He must be
quite aboriginal by this time. 22 Pray get all the particulars of his tour
out of him.
Here I am in the midst of green fields and misty mountains, absolutely
revelling in the luxury of rustic solitude and study. Long may it be
before I shall be driven back to the sumum strepitumque Romce. 2 *
Remember me kindly to Lieber and Hillard, and believe me,
Ever faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. SUMNER.
PEPPERELL, October 4, 1842.
I am truly obliged to you, my dear Sumner, for giving me the carte du
pays of the last week so faithfully. Why, what a week you had of it ! You
celebrated our noble friend's departure 2 * in as jolly a style as any High-
lander or son of green Erin ever did that of his friend's to the world of
spirits, a perpetual wake, wake, indeed, for you don't seem to have
closed your eyes night or day. Dinners, breakfasts, suppers, " each hue/'
as Byron says, " still lovelier than the last." I am glad he went off
under such good auspices, New York hospitality, and you to share it
with him. Well, peace to his manes ! I never expect to see another peer or
commoner from the voter-land whom I shall cotton to, as Madam B
says, half so much.
I am pegging away at the Aztecs, and should win the mural crown in
three months, were I to stay in these rural solitudes, where the only break
is the plague of letter-writing. But Boston ; the word comprehends more
impediments, more friends, more enemies, alas ! how alike, than one
could tell on his fingers. Addio ! love to Hillard, and, when you write,
to Longfellow, whom I hope Lord M. will see, and believe me
Very affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. EVERETT.
BOSTON, November 29, 1843.
MY DEAR SIR,
It was very kind in you to write to me by the last steamer, when you
were suffering under the heavy affliction with which Providence has seen
fit to visit you. 25 I believe there can scarcely be an affliction greater than
22 Lord Morpeth had visited some of our North American Indians.
28 This quotation, comparing Boston with Rome in its days of glory,
reminds one irresistibly of the words of Virgil's shepherd :
' Urbem quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee putavi,
Stultus ego, huic nostrae similem."
24 Lord Morpeth's embarkation for England.
25 The death of his eldest daughter, singularly fitted to gratify affection
and to excite a just pride in her parents.
350 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
that caused by such a domestic loss as yours ; so many dear ties broken,
so many fond hopes crushed. There is something in the relation of a
daughter with a mind so ripe and a soul so spotless as yours, which is
peculiarly touching, and more so perhaps to a father's heart than to any
other. There is something in a female character that awakens a more
tender sympathy than we can feel for those of our own sex, at least I
have so felt it in this relation. I once was called to endure a similar mis-
fortune. But the daughter whom I lost was taken away in the dawn of
life, when only four years old. Do you remember those exquisite lines of
Coleridge,
" Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade,
Death came with timely care,
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there."
I think I can never know a sorrow greater than I then experienced.
And yet, if such was the blow to me, what must this be to you, where
promise has ripened into so beautiful a reality. You have, indeed, all the
consolation that can be afforded by the recollection of so delightful a char-
acter, and of a life that seem* to have been spent in preparation for a
glorious future. Now that she is gone, all who knew her and there are
many here bear testimony to her remarkable endowments, and the sur-
passing loveliness of her disposition. If any argument were needed, the
existence and extinction here of such a being would of itself be enough
to establish the immortality of the soul. It would seem as reasonable to
suppose, that the blossom, with its curious organization and its tendencies
to a fuller development, should be designed to perish in this immature
state, as that such a soul, with the germ of such celestial excellence within
it, should not be destined for a further and more noble expansion. It is
the conviction of this immortality which makes the present life dwindle to
a point, and makes one feel that death, come when it will, separates us but
a short space from the dear friend who has gone before us. Were it not
for this conviction of immortality, life, short as it is, would be much
too long. But I am poorly qualified to give consolation to you. Would
that I could do it !
You will be gratified to know that my father, of whose illness I gave
you some account in my last, has continued to improve, and, as he con-
tinues to get as much exercise as the weather of the season will permit,
there is little doubt his health will be re-established.
Before this, you will have received a copy of the " Conquest of Mexico "
from Rich, I trust. When you have leisure and inclination to look into
it, I hope it may have some interest for you. You say I need not fear
the critical brotherhood. I have no great respect for them in the main,
but especially none for the lighter craft, who, I suspect, shape their course
much by the trade-winds. But the American public defer still too much
to the leading journals. I say, too much, for any one who has done that
sort of work understands its value. One can hardly imagine that one
critic can look another soberly in the face. Yet their influence makes
their award of some importance, not on the ultimate fate of a work,
for I believe that, as none but the author can write himself up permanently,
LETTER TO MR. EVERETT. 351
so none other can write him down. But for present success the opinion
of the leading journals is of moment.
My parents and wife join with me in the expression of the warmest
sympathy for Mrs. Everett, with which believe me, my dear Mr. Everett,
Most faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. SUMNER.
FITFUL HEAD, August 21, 1844.
MY DEAR SUMNER,
I am delighted that you are turning a cold shoulder to JEsculapius,
Galen, and tutti quanti. I detest the whole brotherhood. I have always
observed that the longer a man remains in their hands, and the more of
their cursed stuff he takes, the worse plight he is in. They are the bills
I most grudge paying, except the bill of mortality, which is very often,
indeed, sent in at the same time.
I have been looking through Beau Brummell. His life was the triumph
of impudence. His complete success shows that a fond mother should
petition for her darling this one best gift, da, Jupiter, impudence ; and that
includes all the rest, wit, honor, wealth, beauty, &c., or rather is worth
them all. An indifferent commentary on English high life !
Did I tell you of a pretty present made to me the other day by an
entire stranger to me ? It was an almond stick cut in the woods of the
Alhanibra at Granada, and surmounted by a gold castellano of the date of
Ferdinand and Isabella, set in gold on the head of the stick, which was
polished into a cane. The coin bears the effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella,
with the titles, &c., all somewhat rudely stamped. Is it not a pretty con-
ceit, such a present ?
My mother has been quite unwell the last two days, from a feverish
attack, now subsided ; but we were alarmed about her for a short time.
But we shall still " keep a parent from the sky," I trust.
Pray take care of yourself, and believe me
Always faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. EVERETT.
BOSTON, May 15, 1845.
MY DEAR SIR,
I take the liberty to enclose a note, which you will oblige me by forward-
ing to Mr. Napier, the editor of the " Edinburgh Review." x If anything
additional is necessary as to the address, will you have the goodness to
set it right ?
In the last number of his journal is a paper that you may have read,
on the " History of the Conquest of Mexico," in a foot-note of which the
29 To correct a mistake in the preceding number of the " Edinburgh Re-
view," about the degree of bis blindness. See ante, p. 249.
352 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
reviewer says that I have been blind some years. Now I have one eye that
does some service to me, if not to the state, and I do not half like to be
considered as stone-blind. The next thing I shall hear of a subscription
for the poor blind author ! So I have written to the Scotch Aristarch
just to say that, though I have at times been, and was, particularly during
the composition of " Ferdinand and Isabella," deprived of all use of my
eyes, yet they have so far mended, at least one of them, for the other is
in Launcelot Gobbo's state, or his father's, I believe, that I can do a
fair share of work with it by .daylight, though, it is true, I am obliged to
use a secretary to decipher my hieroglyphics made by writing with a case
used by the blind. I am entitled to some allowance on this score for
clerical errors, some of which, occasionally, have been detected just in time
to save me from the horrors of a comic blunder. I have no right, how-
ever, nor desire, to claim the merit of such obstacles vanquished, as are
implied by total blindness. He will set it right, if he thinks it worth the
trouble. But very likely he will think John Bull would not care a fig if
I had one eye or a score in my cranium, and so let it go.
I was much pleased with the article in the Edinburgh. It is written
with spirit and elegance, and in a hearty tone of commendation, which I
should be glad to merit, and which runs off much more freely, at any rate,
than is usual in British journals. Could you do me the favor to inform
me who was the author ?
We are still permitted to be represented by you, though, as you perceive,
more from a very natural diffidence on the part of any one to succeed you
in that perilous post, than from any fault of Mr. Polk. I trust that the
excitement produced by the vaunt of that eminent personage anent the
Oregon matter has subsided in England. That it should have existed at
all was not easily comprehended here, where we perfectly understood that
our new chief could not distinguish betwixt a speech from the throne and
one on the floor of Congress. He was only talking to Buncombe. There
is a very general feeling here that you may be willing to subside, after
your diplomatic, into a literary career, and take the vacant post in the
neighborhood. 27 But I suppose you have heard more than enough on
that matter.
I pray you to remember me kindly to Mrs. Everett, and believe me,
my dear sir,
Yours with sincere regard,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MB. SUMNEB.
PEPPERELL, August 15, 1845.
MY DEAR SUMNER,
Thank you for your Discourse, which I have read notes and all
with great pleasure and great instruction. 28 You have amassed a heap of
27 The Presidency of Harvard College.
28 The True Grandeur of Nations," an Oration delivered before the city
authorities of Boston, July 4th, 1845, maintaining the extreme doctrines of
the Peace Society.
LETTER TO MR. SUMNER. 353
valuable and often recondite illustration in support of a noble cause. And
who can refuse sympathy witli the spirit of philanthropy which has given
rise to such a charming ideal ? but a little too unqualified.
" There can be no war that is not dishonorable." I can't go along with
this ! No ! by all those who fell at Marathon ; by those who fought at
Morgarten and Bannockburn ; by those who fought and bled at Bunker's
Hill ; in the war of the Low Countries against Philip the Second, in
all those wars which have had which are yet to have freedom for
their object, I can't acquiesce in your sweeping denunciation, my good
friend.
I admire your moral courage in delivering your sentiments so plainly
in the face of that thick array of " well-padded and well-buttoned coats of
blue, besmeared with gold," which must have surrounded the rostrum of
the orator on this day. I may one day see you on a crusade to persuade
the great Autocrat to disband his million of fighting-men, and little Queen
Vic to lay up her steamships in lavender !
You have scattered right and left the seeds of a sound and ennobling
morality, which may spring up in a bountiful harvest, I trust, in the
Millennium, but I doubt.
I shall be in town in a few days, when I shall hope to see you. Mean-
time remember me kindly to HilJard, and believe, dear Sumner,
Most affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. SUMNER.
HIGHLANDS, October 2, 1846.
MY DEAR SUMNER,
I thank you heartily for your Phi Beta Kappa Oration, which I re-
ceived a few days since. I was then up to the elbows in a bloody " bat-
tle-piece." w I thought it better to postpone the reading of it till I could
go to it with clean hands, as befits your pure philosophy.
I have read, or rather listened to it, notes and all, with the greatest in-
terest ; and when I say that my expectations have not been disappointed
after having heard it cracked up so, I think you will think it praise
enough. The most happy conception has been carried out admirably, as
if it were the most natural order of things, without the least constraint or
violence. I don't know which of your sketches I like the best. I am in-
clined to think the Judge's. For there you are on your own heather, and
it is the tribute of a favorite pupil to his well-beloved master, gushing
warm from the heart. Yet they are all managed well, and the vivid
touches of character and the richness of the illustration will repay the
study, I should imagine, of any one familiar with the particular science
29 An oration entitled "The Scholar, the Jurist, the Artist, the Philan-
thropist," delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society in Harvard College,
1846. It is mainly devoted to a delineation of the characters of John Pick-
ering, Esq., Judge Story, Washington Allston, the artist, and the Rev. Dr.
Channing. Mr. Prescott alludes here to one phrase in it, touching the artist:
" No more battle-pieces."
354 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
you discuss. Then your sentiments certainly cannot be charged with in-
consistency. Last year you condemned wars in toto, making no excep-
tion even for the wars of freedom. 30 This year you condemn the represen-
tation of war, whether by the pencil or pen. Marathon, Salamis, Bunker
Hill, the retreat from Moscow, Waterloo, great and small, speaking
more forcibly than all the homilies of parson or philanthropist, are all
to be blotted from memory, equally with my own wild skirmishes of bar-
barians and banditti. Lord deliver us ! Where will you bring up ? If
the stories are not to be painted or written, fcuch records of them as have
been heedlessly made should by the same rule be destroyed. And I don't
see, if you follow out your progress to perfection, but what you will one
day turn out as stanch an Omar, or iconoclast, as any other of glorious
memory.
I laugh ; but J[ fear you will make the judicious grieve.
/ puer, ut dedamatio fids, as some satirist may say.
But fare thee well, dear Sumner. Whether thou deportest thyself sand
vtente or mcnte insand, believe me
Always truly yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MB. BANCROFT.
BOSTON, March 5, 1852.
MY DEAR BANCROFT,
Uncle Isaac 31 sent me yesterday a copy of your new volume, and you
may be sure it occupied me closely during a good part of the day. Of
course I could only glance over its contents, reading with a relish some
of the most striking pictures, at least, those that would catch the eye
most readily on a rapid survey. I recognize the characteristic touches of
your hand everywhere, bold, brilliant, and picturesque, with a good deal
of the poetic and much more of philosophy. You have a great power of
condensing an amount of study and meditation into a compact little sen-
tence, quite enviable. Your introduction, your description of the work-
ing of the Reformation in its Calvinistic aspect especially ; your remarks
on the political tendencies of the Old World institutions and the New-
World ; your quiet rural pictures of New England and Acadian scenes
and scenery ; stirring battle-pieces, Quebec in the foreground, and Brad-
dock's fall, and Washington's rise, told very simply and effectively ;
I have read these with care and much interest. Of course one should 1 not
pronounce on a work without reading it through, and this I shall do more
leisurely. But I have no doubt the volume will prove a very attractive
one, and to the English as well as the Yankee reader, though to the Eng-
lishman it opens a tale not the most flattering in the national annals.
Why did you not mention your resources, so ample and authentic, in
your Preface ? Every author has a right to do this, and every reader has
a right to ask it. Your references do not show the nature of them suf-
* See the last preceding letter, dated August 15, 1845.
?* Isaac P. Davis, Esq., uncle to Mrs. Bancroft.
LETTER TO MR. BANCROFT. 355
ficiently, as I think. But I suppose you have your reasons. I am
glad you have another volume in preparation, and I can only say, God
iced!
With kind remembrances to your wife, believe me, my dear Bancroft,
Faitlifully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO ME. BANCROFT.
BOSTON, December 20, 1852.
Thank you, dear Bancroft, for the second volume of the work immor-
tal. It gives me a mingled sensation of pleasure and pain to receive it ;
pleasure to see what you have done, pain at the contrast with what I have
done the last year or two. But it will operate as a spur to my enterprise,
I hope.
I have only glanced over the volume, and listened carefully to the first
chapters. It is a volume not to be taken at a leap, or at a sitting, es-
pecially by an American. You have given a noble platform for the Revo-
lution by making the reader acquainted with the interior of English and
Continental politics beyond any other work on the subject. I admire the
courage as well as the sagacity you have shown in your chapter on the
English institutions, &c. You have made John Bull of the nineteenth
century sit for his portrait of the eighteenth, and rightly enough, as the
islander changes little but in date. I do not know how he will like the
free commentaries you have made on his social and political characteris-
tics. But if he is tolerably candid he may be content. But honest Bull,
as you intimate, is rather insular in his notions, bounded by the narrow
seas. There is more depth than breadth in his character.
Now that your side has won the game, I wonder if you will be tempted
away from the historic chair to make another diplomatic episode. 32 I
shall be sorry, on the whole, if you are; for life is fleeting, though art be
long, and you are now warm in harness, running your great race of glory
well. I wonder if Mrs. B. does not agree with me ? Yet St. James's
might offer a sore temptation to any one that could get it.
Thackeray dines at least I have asked him with me on Thursday.
I wish you could make one of a partie carr& with him.
With much love to your dear lady, believe me, dear Bancroft,
Affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO MR. BANCROFT.
BOSTON, January 8, 1856.
DEAR BANCROFT,
It was very kind in you to take the trouble to read my volumes through
so carefully, and to give me the results of your examination. 33 I am not
82 The success of the Democratic party in the elections of 1852.
*3 The first two volumes of the " History of Philip the Second."
356 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
a little pleased that these are so favorable to me. It is no flattery to say
that your opinion, with the allowance of the grain perhaps a bushel
of salt on the score of friendship, is of more value to me than almost any
other person's in the community ; you are so familiar with the ground of
the historian, and know from experience so well what difficulties lie in his
path. The verbal inaccuracies you have pointed out I shall give heed to,
as well as the two blunders of date and spelling. With respect to the
French discourse at the abdication, 34 that is right. Flemish was the lan-
guage of the people, but French was more commonly used by the nobility.
It was the language of the court, and historians expressly state that on
this occasion Philip excused himself from addressing the States on the
ground of his inability to speak French. Cateau-Cambresis is also right,
being the modern French usage. It is so written by Sismondi, by the
editor of the " Granvelle Papers/' and in the latest geographical gazet-
teers.
The book has gone off very well so far. Indeed, double the quantity,
I think, has been sold of any of my preceding works in the same time. I
have been lucky, too, in getting well on before Macaulay has come thun-
dering along the track with his hundred horse-power. I am glad to hear
you say that his Catholic Majesty is found in so many houses in New
York. I have had some friendly notices from that great Babylon. Noth-
ing has pleased me more than a note which I received last week from
Irving (to whom, by. the by, I had omitted to send a copy), written in his
genial, warm-hearted manner. My publishers, whose reader had got into
rather a hot discussion with the " Tribune," I understand, had led me to
expect a well-peppered notice from that journal. But on the contrary, an
able article, from the pen, I believe, of Mr. Ripley, who conducts the lit-
erary criticisms in its columns, dealt with me in the handsomest manner
possible. Some fault was found, not so much as I deserve, mixed
up with a good deal of generous approbation ; a sort of criticism more to
my taste than wholesale panegyric.
I cannot conclude this collection of letters to the three emi-
nent American statesmen, with whom Mr. Prescott most freely
corresponded, better than with the following remarks on his
conversation by his friend Mr. Parsons. " Never, perhaps,"
says Mr. Parsons, "did he suggest political, or rather party
questions. He was himself no partisan and no extremist on
any subject. He had valued friends in every party, and could
appreciate excellence of mind or character in those who differed
from him. But in this country, where all are free to be as prej-
udiced and violent as they choose, and most persons take
great care that this right shall not be lost for want of use, it
is seldom that political topics can be discussed with warmth,
* Of Charles the Fifth.
CONVERSATION ON POLITICAL SUBJECTS. 357
but without passion, or without the personal acerbity, which
offended not only his good taste, but his good feelings. Per-
haps he never sought or originated political conversation ; but
he would not decline contributing his share to it ; and the con-
tribution he made was always of good sense, of moderation, and
of forbearance."
CHAPTER XXV.
1852 - 1854.
DEATH OF ME. PRESCOTT'S MOTHER. PROGRESS WITH "PHILIP THE
SECOND." CORRESPONDENCE.
BUT while Mr. Prescott, after his return from England,
was making such spirited advances with his work on
" Philip the Second," and taking avowed satisfaction in it,
another of the calamities of life, for which foresight is no prep-
aration, ame upon him. On Monday, the 17th of May, 1852,
in the forenoon, a gentleman whom I met in the street stopped
to tell me that Mrs. Prescott, the mother of my friend, was
very ill. I had seen her only two evenings before, when she
was in her own chamber, slightly indisposed, indeed, but still
in her accustomed spirits, and seeming to enjoy life as much as
she ever had. I was surprised, therefore, by the intelligence,
and could hardly believe it. But I hastened to the house, and
found it to be true. She had been ill only a few hours, and
already the end was obviously near. How deeply that afflic-
tion was felt by her son I shall not forget ; nor shall I forget
the conversation I had with him in the afternoon, when all was
over. His suffering was great. He wept bitterly. But above
every other feeling rose the sense of gratitude for what he had
owed to his mother's love and energy.
The impression of her loss remained long on his heart. In
the subsequent July, when he went, as usual, to Nahant, he
writes :
July 4th, 1852. Nahant, where we came on the first, cold, dreary
and desolate. I miss the accustomed faces. All ai-ound me how changed,
yet not the scene. There all is as it always has been. The sea makes its
accustomed music on the rocks below. But it sounds like a dirge to me.
Yet I will not waste my time in idle lament. It will not bring back the
dead, the dead who still live, and in a happier world than this.
He did not, in fact, recover a tolerable measure of spirits
until he reached Pepperell in the autumn.
LETTER TO LADY LYELL. 359
" Left Nahant," he says, " September 6th, and came to the Highlands
September 9th, full of good intent. Delicious solitudes ; safe even from
friends for a time ! Now for the Spanish battle-cry, * St. Jago, and
at them ! ' "
But three months later he writes :
December 4th. St. Jago has not done much for me after all. The
gods won't help those that won't help themselves. I have dawdled away
my summer, and have only to show for it Chapter XII., thirty-five pages
of text and four pages of notes. Fie on it ! I am now well read up for
Chapter XIII., and I mean to have a conscience and reform. We left
Pepperell October 26th.
In the winter of 1852 - 3 he made good progress again in
his work ; at least such progress as encouraged him, if it was
not very rapid. By the 15th of May he had written the thir-
teenth and fourteenth chapters of the Second Book, and the
first chapter of Book Third, making about ninety pages in
print. October 3d he had gone on a hundred and sixty pages
farther ; and, although he did not account it " railroad speed,"
he knew that it was an improvement on what he had done
some months before. He was, therefore, better satisfied with
himself than he had been, and more confident of success.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, January 11, 1853.
You have no idea of the weather you left behind you here. 1 The ther-
mometer is at 50 at noon to-day, and the trees on the Common seem
quite puzzled as to what to do about it. We took our cold, raw weather
when you were here, at the bottom of Long Wharf, in Copp's Hill
burying-ground, and the bleak Dorchester drive, to say nothing of the
afternoon, when the great jet would not play for your entertainment. You
have not forgotten these pleasant rambles, now that you are so far away.
Thackeray has left us. His campaign was a successful one, and he said,
" It rained dollars." He dined with me thrice, and was in good flow of
spirits till a late hour generally. He went much to the Ticknors also. I
do not think he made much impression as a critic. But the Thackeray
vein is rich in what is better than cold criticism.
1 Sir Charles and Lady Lyell had now made a second visit to the United
States.
360 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, March 1, 1853.
At length I hare the pleasure to send you the little nothings by
Colonel Lawrence, viz. a miniature pencil-case, to be worn round the
neck, for ornament more than use. Item, an ivory stylus, more for use
than ornament (the worse for wear, having been pared away, as it re-
quired sharpening an inch or more), with which I wrote all the " Conquest
of Mexico." I gave to dear Mrs. Milman the stylus that indited " Peru."
Anna Ticknor has the " Ferdinand and Isabella " one. My wife says she
will not accept the one with which I am doing the Philippics. As that is
agate-pointed, I think it will be able to run off as long a yarn as I shall
care to spin.
TO MKS. MILMAN.
PEPPERELL, September 16, 1853.
MY DEAR MRS. MILMAN,
By the steamer which sailed this week I have done myself the pleasure
to send you a couple of volumes, called, " Six Months in Italy." It is a
book lately given to the world by a friend of mine, Mr. Hillard, an emi-
nent lawyer in Boston, but one who has found leisure enough to store his
mind with rich and various knowledge, and whose naturally fine taste fits
him for a work like the present. The subject has been worn out, it is
true, by book-makers ; but Hillard has treated it in an original way, and
as his style is full of animation and beauty, I think the volumes will be
read with pleasure by you and by my good friend your husband.
Since I last wrote to you the Lyells have made their Crystal Palace
trip to the New World, and passed some days with me at the seaside ;
and, as Lady Lyell has perhaps told you, I afterwards accompanied her to
New York. It was a great pleasure to see them again, when we thought
we had bid them a long, if not a last adieu. But that is a word that
ought not to be in our vocabulary. They are to pass next winter, I
believe, in the Canaries. They put a girdle round the earth in as little
time almost as Puck.
My travels are from town to seaside, and from seaside to country. And
here I am now among the old trees of Pepperell, dearer to me than any
other spot I call my own.
The Lyells have been with us here, too, and I believe Lady Lyell likes
my Pepperell home the best. It is a plain old farm, recommended by a
beautiful country, glistening with pretty streams of water, well covered
with woods, and with a line of hills in the background that aspire to the
dignity of mountains. But what endears it most to me is that it has been
the habitation of my ancestors, and my own some part of every year from
childhood. It is too simple a place, however, not to say rude, to take any
but an intimate friend to.
LETTERS TO LADY LYELL. 361
Pray remember me most kindly to your husband, and believe me, my
dear Mrs. Milman, now and always,
Affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, December 25, 1853.
A merry Christmas to you, dear Lady Lyell, and to Lyell too, and
good orthodox mince-pies to celebrate it with. I wonder where you are
keeping it. Not where you will find it kept in as genial a way as in Old
England. How much your countrymen, by the by, are indebted to
Washington Irving for showing the world what a beautiful thing Christ-
mas is, or used to be, in your brave little island. I was reading his
account of it this morning, stuffed as full of racy old English rhymes as
Christmas pudding is of plums. Irving has a soul, which is more than
one can say for most writers. It is odd that a book like this, so finely
and delicately executed, should come from the New World, where one
expects to meet with hardly anything more than the raw material.
I don't know anything that has been stirring here of late that would
have interest for you, or for us either, for that matter. It has been a quiet
winter, quiet in every sense, for the old graybeard has not ventured to
shake his hoary locks at us yet, or at least he has shed none of them on
the ground, which is as bare as November. This is quite uncommon and
very agreeable. But winter is not likely to rot in the sky, and we shall
soon see the feathers dancing about us.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, February 26, 1854.
I dined with the Ticknors on Friday last, a snug little party, very
pleasant. Anna has been in good health this winter, and in very,
good spirits. Good kind friends they are, and if you want to find it, be a
little ill, or out of sorts yourself, and you will soon prove it.
I have been tolerably industrious for me this winter, and I hope to be
in condition to make a bow to the public by the end of the year
You have heard that my publishers, the Harpers, were burnt out last
December. They lost about a million ; one third perhaps insured. It is
said they have as much more left. I should have made by the fire, as
they had about half an edition of each of my books on hand, which they
had paid me for. But I could not make money out of their losses, and I
told them to strike off as many more copies, without charging them.
Ticknor did the same. If all their authors would do as much by them,
they would be better off by at least a couple of hundred thousand dollars
than their report now shows.
16
362 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, May 15, 1854.
I am hard at work now on a very amiable chapter in the " History of
Philip the Second," the affair of Don Carlos, for which I fortunately have
a good body of materials from different quarters, especially Spain. A
romantic subject, Carlos and Isabella, is it not ? Those who have read
Schiller, and Alfieri, and Lord John Russell, who wrote a long tragedy on
the matter, may think so. But truth is a sturdy plant, that bears too few
of the beautiful flowers that belong to fiction, and the historian, who digs
up the dry bones of antiquity, has a less cheering occupation than the
poet, who creates and colors according to his own fancy. Some people,
however, think history not much better than poetry, as far as fact is con-
cerned. Those are most apt to think so who are let behind the scenes.
TO DEAN MILMAN.
LYNN, July 24, 1854.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I had the pleasure of receiving a few days since a copy of your " History
of Latin Christianity," which you were so kind as to send me through
Murray, and for which I am greatly obliged to you. As I glance over
the rich bill of fare which the " Contents" hold out, I only regret that I
have not the eyes to go into it at once in a more thorough manner than
can be done with the ear. But a recent strain of the nerve just before I
left town has so far disabled me, that for some weeks I have scarcely ven-
tured to look at the contents of a book. I have, however, listened to some
portions of it, sufficient to give me an idea of the manner in which the
work has been executed. I have been particularly struck with your ad-
mirable account of Becket, and the formidable struggle which the proud
priest, in the name of religion, carried on with the royalty of England.
I had thought myself pretty well acquainted with the earlier portions of
English history, but I have nowhere seen the motives and conduct of the
parties in that remarkable struggle so clearly unveiled. As you come
down to later times, the subject may have greater interest for the general
reader ; but yet it can hardly exceed in interest those portions of the
present volumes which discuss those great events and institutions the
influence of which is still felt in the present condition of society.
I am not sufficiently familiar with ecclesiastical history to make my
opinion of any value, it is true. Yet there are some points in the exe-
cution of such a work which may be apprehended by readers not bred in
any theological school ; and I am sure I cannot be mistaken when I ex-
press the firm conviction that these volumes will prove every way worthy
of the enviable reputation which you now enjoy, both as a scholar and a
friend of humanity.
I have been bringing my long-protracted labors on the first two volumes
LETTER TO LADY LYELL. 363
of my "Philip the Second" to a close. I have made arrangements for
their publication next spring in England and the United States, though I
may be yet longer delayed by the crippled condition of my eyes.
TO LADY LYELL.
PEPPERELL, September 27, 1854.
DEAR LADY LYELL,
Here we are in old Pepperell, after a week in which we have been in all
the hubbub of the transition state. We have come much later than usual,
for Lynn, with its green fields and dark blue waters, and the white sails
glistening upon them under a bright September sun, was extremely
lovely. Indeed, I think, if we were not so much attached to the old farm,
we should hardly have thought it worth while to come here for a month,
as we now do, and as we always shall do, I suppose. In fact, the topsy-
turvy life, and all the bustle of moving from seaside to town, and town to
country, is something like travelling on a great scale, and forms a very
good substitute for it, just as that mammoth water-lily, the Victoria Regia,
which you and I saw at Sion House, and which had always depended on
a running stream for its existence, did just as well by Paxton's clever in-
vention of keeping up a turmoil in a tank. The lily thought she was all
the while in some bustling river, and expanded as gloriously as if she had
been. I rather think the tank sort of turmoil is the only one that we shall
have ; at all events, that my better half will, who I think will never see
the vision even of New York before she dies. We have had a dismal
drought all over the country, which lasted for more than two months.
Luckily, the September rains have restored the vegetation, and the coun-
try looks everywhere as green as in the latter days of spring. Then there
is an inexpressible charm in the repose, a sort of stillness which you al-
most hear, poetice, in the soft murmurs and buzzing sounds that come up
from the fields and mingle with the sounds made by the winds playing
among the trees. It makes quite an agreeable variety to the somewhat
oppressive and eternal roar of the ocean. The wind as it sweeps through
the forest makes a music that one never wearies of. But I did get tired
of the monotonous beat of the ocean. I longed for another tune of
Nature's, and now I have got it.
CHAPTER XXVI.
RHEUMATISM AT NAHANT. BOSTON HOMES SUCCESSIVELY OCCUPIED BY
MR. PRESCOTT IN TREMONT STREET, SUMMER STREET, BEDFORD STREET,
AND BEACON STREET. PATRIARCHAL MODE OF LIFE AT PEPPERELL.
LIFE AT NAHANT AND AT LYNN.
DURING the year 1852-53, Mr. Prescott was much
troubled with rheumatism, more than he had been for
a long time, and was led seriously to consider whether his
residence at Nahant, and his summer life on the edge of the
ocean, must not be given up. He did not like the thought,
but could not avoid its intrusion. Home was always a word
of peculiar import to him, and any interference with his old
habits and associations in relation to it was unwelcome.
Most of these associations had been settled for many years,
and belonged especially to Boston. From 1808, when he was
only twelve years old, his proper home, as we have seen, was
always there, under the same roof with his father for thirty-
six years, and with his mother for forty-four.
The first house they occupied was on Tremont Street, at the
head of Bumstead Place, and the next was in Summer Street,
contiguous to Chauncy Place, both now pulled down to make
room for the heavy brick and granite blocks demanded by
commerce. Afterwards they lived, for a few years, at the
corner of Otis Place, nearly opposite their last residence ; but
in 1817, Mr. Prescott the elder purchased the fine old mansion
in Bedford Street, where they all lived eight and twenty years.
In 1845, the year following the death of the venerable head of
the household, the remainder of the family removed to No. 55
in Beacon Street, the last -home of the^iistorian and his moth-
er's last home on this side the grave.
As long as his father lived, which was until Mr. Prescott
himself was forty-eight years old, and until all his children had
been born, there was a patriarchal simplicity in their way of
life that was not to be mistaken. The very furniture of the
HOMES IN BOSTON. 365
goodly old house in Bedford Street belonged to an earlier
period, or, at least, though rich and substantial, it gave token
of times gone by. The hospitality, too, that was so freely
exercised there, and which, to all who were privileged to enjoy
it, was so attractive, had nothing of pretension about it, and
very little of recent fashion. It was quiet, gentle, and warm-
hearted. Sometimes, but rarely, large parties were given, and
always on Thanksgiving-day, our chief domestic festival in
New England, the whole of the family, in all its branches,
was collected, and the evening spent, with a few very intimate
friends, in merry games. Once, I remember, Sir Charles and
Lady Lyell were added to the party, and shared heartily in its
cordial gayety, romping with the rest of us, as if they had
been to the manner born. 1
The establishment in Beacon Street, where the historian
spent the last thirteen winters of his life, was more modern
and elegant. He had fitted it carefully to his peculiar wants,
and infirmities, and then added the comforts and luxuries of
the time. But the hearty hospitality which had always been
enjoyed under the old trees in Bedford Street was not want-
ing to his new home. He had inherited it from his grand-
father and his father, and it was, besides, a part of his own
nature. There was always a welcome, and a welcome suited
to each case, to the stranger who called from curiosity to
see one whose name was familiar in both hemispheres, and to
the friend who entered uninvited and unannounced. No house
among us was more sought, none more enjoyed.
But Mr. Prescott never spent the whole of any one year in
Boston. In childhood, he was carried every summer, at least
once, to visit his grandmother in the family homestead at Pep-
perell. His father held such visits to be both a pleasure and
a duty. The youthful son enjoyed them as happy seasons of
holiday relaxation and freedom. Both of them naturally in-
creased there a sort of familiar affection and intimacy, which
J Since this was written, I have fallen on a letter of Lady Lyell to Mr.
Prescott, dated January 7, 1857, in which she says: " Shall I ever forget the
Thanksgiving in Bedford Street? Never, as long as I live. It is now more -
than fifteen years ago, but still I see the rooms, the dinner-table, the blind-
man's-buff, -and the adjournment to your study to see Lord Kingsborough's
' Mexico.' "
366 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
in the bustle of the town and amidst the engrossing cares of
the father's professional life could not be so thoroughly rooted
and cultivated.
While the venerable grandmother lived, nothing could be
more simple than the ways and manners in that old house,
which was only one of the better sort of New England farm-
houses ; small for our times, but not so accounted when it was
built. Its furniture was comfortable, but already old, and
dating from a period when grace and taste in such things were
little considered. Its fare was country fare, abundant, health-
ful, and keenly enjoyed with appetites earned by wandering
about the large, fine farm, and breathing the pure mountain
air of the region. None were gathered there, however, at this
period, except the members of the little family, which, though
of three generations, numbered as yet only six persons. In-
deed, there was hardly room for more, and, besides this, the
aged head of the household could not well enjoy any society
save that of the persons nearest to her, for she had long been
infirm, and was now nearly blind. But it was good for them
all to be there. The influences of the place were salutary and
happy.
After the death of the much-loved grandmother in 1821,
at the age of eighty-eight, a good deal of this was naturally
changed. The essential characteristics of the quiet homestead
were indeed preserved, and are to this day the same. But
the two elder children of Mr. Prescott were already married,
and room was to be found for them and for their families. A
stydy was built for the future historian, that he might devote
himself undisturbed to his books, and other additions were made
for hospitality's sake. Everything, however, was done in the
most unpretending way, and in keeping with the simplicity of
the place and its associations.
At this period it was that I first became acquainted with
Pepperell, and began, with my family, still young, to visit there
a few days or more every summer, when it was in our power
to do so ; a practice which we continued as long as the elder
Mr. Prescott lived, and afterwards until both our households
had become so large that it was not always easy to accommo-
date them. But although, in one way or another, the old
PEPPERELL. 367
house at Pepperell was often full, and sometimes crowded, yet
so happy were the guests, and so glad were the two or three
families there to receive their many friends, that no incon-
venience was felt on either side.
Mr. Prescott the elder was nowhere so completely himself
as he was at Pepperell ; I mean, that his original character
came out nowhere else so naturally and fully. He was about
sixty years old when I first saw him there, after having long
known him familiarly in Boston. He was very dignified, mild,
and prepossessing in his general appearance everywhere ; a
little bent, indeed, as he had long been, but with no other mark
of infirmity, and not many indications of 'approaching age. But
in Pepperell, where the cares of professional life were entirely
thrown off, he seemed another man, younger and more vigor-
ous. His step on the soil that gave him birth was more elastic
than it was elsewhere, and his smile, always kind and gentle,
had there a peculiar sweetness. He loved to walk about the
fields his father had cultivated, and to lounge under the trees
his father had planted. Most of his forenoons were spent in
the open air, superintending the agricultural improvements he
understood so well, and watching the fine cattle with which
he had stocked his farm, much to the benefit of the country
about him.
After dinner, he preferred to sit long at table, and few were
so young or so gay that they did not enjoy the mild wisdom of
his conversation, and the stirring recollections and traditions
with which his memory was stored, and which went back to
the period when the spot where we were then so happy was
not safe from the Indian's tomahawk. Later in the afternoon
we generally took long drives, sometimes long walks, and in
the evening we read together some amusing book, commonly a
novel, and oftener than any others, one of Sir Walter Scott's
or Miss Edgeworth's. They were very happy days.
The walks and drives about Pepperell and its neighborhood
are pleasant and cheerful, but hardly more. It is a broken
country, well watered and well cultivated, and the woodlands,
now somewhat diminished by the encroachments of civilization,
were, at the time of which I speak, abundant and rich, espe-
cially on the hills. How much the historian enjoyed this free
368 WILLIAM EICKLING PEESCOTT.
and open nature, we have already had occasion often to notice,
and shall find that it continued to the last. Everything at
Pepperell was familiar and dear to him from the days of his
childhood.
There is a charming shady walk behind the house, looking
towards the Monadnock mountain, and there many a chapter
of his Histories was composed, or conned over and fitted for the
noctograph. On the other side of the road is an old grove of
oaks, which he used to call the " Fairy Grove," because under
its spreading shades he had told his children stories about fairies,
who danced there on moonlight nights and brushed away the
gathering dews from the grass. In the " Fairy Grove " he
walked before dinner, and, as he loved, companionship at that
time of the day, I have walked many a mile with him in the
path his feet had worn deep in the sod. Farther on is a piece
of his woodland, to which he had given the name of " Bloody
Grove," because he had associated it with a wild tradition of
the Indian times. There, but more rarely, we walked in the
rich twilight of our summer evenings. It was too far off from
the house to be much frequented.
The drives were no less agreeable, and, like the walks, had
their old associations and fancy names, in which we all de-
lighted. One was Jewett's Bridge, over the Nashua, between
Pepperell and Groton, where, when his grandfather had gone
to fight the battle of Bunker Hill, and had taken all the able-
bodied men with him, the women, dressed in their husbands'
clothes, mounted guard with muskets and pitchforks, and abso-
lutely arrested a man who was in the interest of the enemy,
and took from his boots dangerous papers, which they sent to
the Committee of Safety. 2 Another of the favorite drives was
through rich meadows and woodlands, which in the declining
light of the long afternoons were full of gentle beauty, and this
he called the " Valley-Forge Drive," in memory of one of the
darkest and most honorable periods of Washington's military
life, although the association was provoked only by the cir-
cumstance that in "one of the hollows which we used to pass
there was a large blacksmith's-forge. And yet another, the
longest drive of all, was to a bright valley, where in a hillside
a See Butler's " History of Groton," (Boston, 8vo, 1848,) p. 436.
PEPPERELL. 369
the farmer who lived hard by, mistaking pyrites for silver ore,
had gradually wrought a long gallery in the solid rock, chiefly
with his own hands, sure that he should find hidden treasure
at last, but died without the sight. And this little, quiet valley
was always called " Glen Withershins," in memory of Edie
Ochiltree, who was a great favorite in the old homestead at
Pepperell. 8
But wherever the afternoon drives or walks led us, or what-
ever were the whimsical associations connected with them, they
were always cheerful and happy hours that we thus passed
together. The woods were often made merry with our shouts
and laughter ; for the parties after dinner were never small,
and no cares or anxious thoughts oppressed any of us. "We
were young, or at least most of us were so, when these gay
local associations were all settled, and, as we grew older, we
enjoyed them the more for the happy memories that rested on
them. Certainly we never wearied of them.
After the death of the elder Mr. Prescott, his son preserved,
as far as was possible, the accustomed tone and modes of life in
his old rural home. Three generations could still be gathered
there, and the house was enlarged and altered, but not much,
to accommodate their increasing numbers. It was the son's
delight, as it had been his father's, not only to have his own
friends, but the friends of his children, share his cordial hospi-
tality ; and, if their number was often large enough to fill all
the rooms quite as full as they should be, it was never so large
as to crowd out the truest enjoyment. 4
* In the evenings of one of our visits, we read aloud the whole of " The
Antiquary," and I well remember, not only how it was enjoyed throughout,
but how particular parts of it were especially relished. Edie's patriotism, in
the last chapter but one, where that delightful old beggar, with not a penny
in the world, enumerates the many rich blessings he would fight for, if the
French should invade Scotland, brought tears into the eyes of more than one
of the party, including the elder Mr. Prescott.
4 Sometimes, indeed not unfrequently, he fancied that he should like to
live at Pepperell eight months in the year, or even longer. But the thought
of the snow-drifts, and the restraints and seclusion which our rigorous winters
imply under the circumstances of such a residence, soon drove these fancies
from his mind. Their recurrence, however, shows how strong was his at-
tachment to Pepperell. Of this, indeed, there can be no doubt; but perhaps
the most striking illustration of it is to be found in the fact, that, in whatever
testamentary arrangements he at different times made, there was always
16* X
870 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
But, besides his houses in Boston and Pepperell, Mr. Pres-
cott lived for many years a few weeks of every summer on the
sea-coast. This habit was adopted originally less for his own
sake than for that of his father, who, on the approach of old
age, found the air of the ocean important to him during the hot
season. As they had always lived together in town, so now
they built their house together at Nahant, about fourteen miles
from Boston ; a rocky peninsula which juts out so far into the
ocean, that even our most parching southwest winds in July
special and tender regard shown to this old farm, which his grandfather had
rescued from the primeval forest, and which he himself held, as his father
had done, by the original Indian title. The fact to which I refer is, that in
successive wills he entailed the Pepperell estate in the strictest manner,
although he perfectly well knew, at the time he did it, that any heir of his
to whom it might descend could, by the very simple provisions of our statutes,
break the entail, and convert the estate into an ordinary inheritance, as un-
fettered by conditions as if he had bought it. This, however, made no dif-
ference to Mr. Prescott. " It was," as Mr. Gardiner, who drew the wills in
question, truly says, " It was a matter of pure sentiment ; for the estate
is of very moderate value as a piece of salable property, not at all worthy, in
that view, of unusual pains to preserve it for the benefit of remote descend-
ants. Nor had Mr. Prescott, in truth, the smallest desire to perpetuate wealth
in connection with his name to a distant generation. Property in general he
was content to leave, after the death of those who were personally dear to
him, and for whom he made special provisions, to the common operation
of the laws of the land, and the accidents of life. Wealth he regarded only
for its uses, and valued no more than other men. But his little Pepperell
farm, simple and unostentatious as it is, he was as fond and as proud of as any
baron of England is of his old feudal castle, and for very similar reasons.
Hence he had the strongest desire that these few acres of native soil, which
had been long in the family, the home especially of the old hero of Bun-
ker Hill, the favorite resort of that hero's son, the learned lawyer and judge,
and afterwards of his grandson, the historian, should always be held un-
divided by some one of the same name, blood, and lineage. He well under-
stood, indeed, that he had no power in law to prevent the heir in tail from
defeating this purpose; but he hoped and trusted that nothing but a last
necessity would induce an inheritor of his blood to part with such a patrimo-
nial possession for the little money it would produce. At any rate, he in-
tended, so far as was possible by his own act and will, to secure its perpetual
family transmission ; though he duly estimated the chances that this, in the
course of human vicissitudes, might not hold out for many generations be-
yond those which he could himself see.
" He attached similar feelings even to the old and valueless furniture of his
grandsires, some relics of which remained in the Pepperell house; and, since
he could not entail them, like the land, he takes care to bequeath all the
movables of the house and farm to the first tenant in tail, who should come
into possession of the estate, with a request that he would use means to
transmit them to his successors."
NAHANT. 371
and August are mudh cooled by the waves before they reach
it. The purchase of the land was made in 1828, the year Mr.
Prescott the elder retired from the bar ; and their cottage of
two stories built without the slightest architectural preten-
sions, but full of resources for comfort, and carefully fitted to its
objects and position was occupied by them the next summer.
In a hot day it is the coolest spot of the whole peninsula, and
therefore among the coolest on the whole line of our coast.
There, with the exception of the summer at Pepperell, follow-
ing his father's death, and that of 1850, which he passed in
England, he spent eight or ten weeks of every season for five
and twenty years.
As he said in one of his letters,
The house stands on a bold cliff overlooking the ocean, so near that
in a storm the spray is thrown over the piazza, and as it stands on the
extreme point of the peninsula, it is many miles out at sea. There is
more than one printed account of Nahant, which is a remarkable wa-tering-
place, from the bold formation of the coast and its exposure to the ocean.
It is not a bad place this sea-girt citadel for reverie and writing, with
the music of the winds and waters incessantly beating on the rocks and
broad beaches below. This place is called " Fitful Head/' and Norna's
was not wilder.
He had, "however, different minds about Nahant at different
periods, and generally felt more or less misgiving as to its bene-
fits each year just before he was to begin his summer residence
there. Sometimes he thought that the strong reflection from
the bright ocean, which often filled the air with a dazzling
splendor, was hurtful to his impaired sight. Almost always
he perceived that the cool dampness, which was so refreshing,
increased his rheumatic tendencies. And sometimes he com-
plained bitterly that his time was frittered away by idlers and
loungers, who crowded the hotels and cottages of that fashion-
able watering-place, and who little thought how he suffered
as they sat gossiping with him in his darkened parlor or on
his shady piazza. 5 But wherever he might live, as he well
6 His Memoranda contain much on this annoyance of company. In one
place he says : " I have lost a clear month here by company, company
which brings the worst of all satieties ; for the satiety from study brings the
consciousness of improvement. But this dissipation impairs health, spirits,
scholarship. Yet how can I escape it, tied like a bear to a stake here ? I
will devise some way another year, or Nahant shall be ' Nae haunt of mine,'
372 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
knew, his life would be beset with all its old infirmities, and
as for visitors, his kindly nature and social propensities would
never permit him to be rigorous with his friends, and still less
with the strangers who were attracted by his reputation, and
whose calls it might seem churlish to refuse. He therefore
made the best he could of his residence at Nahant, even after
he had begun to entertain a serious doubt about its effects.
This was natural. The sharp, tonic air of the ocean undoubt-
edly invigorated him for his work, and kept down, in part at
least, his troublesome dyspepsia, 6 while, at the same time,
taking his principal exercise on horseback in the long twilight
of our summer evenings, he avoided, to a great degree, the
injurious effects of the dazzling noonday splendors of the place.
But his rheumatism at last prevailed. It was clearly aggra-
vated by the damp air which penetrated everywhere at Nahant,
and against which flannels and friction were a very imperfect
defence.
As, therefore, he approached the confines of old age, he
found that he must make some change in his modes of life,
and arrange, if possible, some new compromise with his con-
flicting infirmities. But he hesitated long. While his father
lived, who found great solace at Nahant, he never failed to
accompany him there any more than to Pepperell, and never
seemed to shrink from it or to regret it, so important to him
was the society of that wise and gentle old man, and so neces-
sary to his daily happiness.
But after his father's death, and again after his mother's, the
place in his eyes changed its character. It became cold, dreary,
and desolate ; it wanted, as he said, the accustomed faces. Whe
last strong link that connected him with it was broken, and he
as old Stewart [the portrait-painter] used to say." And in a letter to me
about the same time, August, 1840, he says: "We are here in a sort of
whirligig, company morning, noon, and night, company to dine twice a
week, and, in short, all the agreeable little interruptions incident to a
watering-place or a windmill."
But not always. In August, 1841, he says: " Nahant has not served me
as well as usual this summer. I have been sorely plagued with the dyspep-
tic debility and pains. But I am determined not to heed them." Sometimes
he seemed out of all patience with. Nahant. Once he recorded: "An acre
of grass and old trees is worth a wilderness of ocean." He wrote this, how-
ever, at Pepperell, which he always loved.
LYNN." 373
determined to live there no more, " his visit oft, but never
his abode."
Having come to this final decision, he purchased, in the
spring of 1853, a house on the shore of Lynn Bay, looking
pleasantly over the waters to his old home at Nahant, and
only half a dozen miles distant from it. It was a luxurious
establishment compared with the simple cottage for which he
exchanged it, and was less exposed to the annoyance of idle
strangers or inconsiderate friends. Its chief attractions, how-
ever, were its mild sea-breezes, cool and refreshing, but rarely
or never sharp and damp, like those at Nahant, and its drives,
which could easily be extended into the interior, and carried
into rural lanes and woodlands. He enjoyed it very much,
not, indeed, as he did Pepperell, which was always a peculiar
place to him, but he enjoyed it more than he did any other
of his residences in town or country, spending ten or twelve
weeks there every summer during the last five years of his
life, embellishing its grounds, and making its interior arrange-
ments comfortable and agreeable to his children and grand-
children, whom he gathered around him there, as he loved to
do everywhere. Still, much was added to his happiness when,
two years later, his only daughter, who had been married in
1852 to Mr. James Lawrence, was settled in a charming villa
hardly a stone's throw from his door. After this he seemed to
need nothing more, for she lived still nearer to him in Boston,
and visited him at Pepperell every year with her children.
One thing at his Lynn home was and still is (1862) very
touching. There was hardly a tree on the place, except some
young plantations, which were partly his own work, and which
he did not live to see grow up. But shade was important to
him there as it was everywhere ; and none was to be found in
his grounds except under the broad branches of an old cherry-
tree, which had come down from the days of the Quaker shoe-
makers who were so long the monarchs of the lands there and
in all the neighborhood. Round the narrow circle of shade
which this tree afforded him, he walked with his accustomed
fidelity a certain length of time every day, whenever the sun
prevented him from going more freely abroad. There he soon
wore a path in the greensward, and so deep did it at last
374 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
become, that now four years since any foot has pressed it
the marks still remain, as a sad memorial of his infirmity. I
have not unfrequently watched him, as he paced his wearisome
rounds there, carrying a light .umbrella in his hand, which,
when he reached the sunny side of his circle, he raised for an
instant to protect his eye, and then shut it again that the suf-
fering organ might have the full benefit, not only of the exer-
cise, but of the fresh air ; so exact and minute was he as to
whatever could in the slightest degree affect its condition. 7
But in this respect all his houses were alike. His sight
and the care needful to preserve it were everywhere in his
thoughts, and controlled more or less whatever he did or
undertook.
7 Since writing these sentences, a sonnet has been pointed out to me in a
cutting from one of the newspapers of the time, which refers to the circle
round the old cherry-tree.
" No more, alas ! the soft returning Spring
Shall greet thee, walking near thy favorite tree,
Marking with patient step the magic ring
Where pageants grand and monarchs moved with thee,
Thou new Columbus ! bringing from old Spain
Her ancient wealth to this awaiting shore ;
Returning, stamped with impress of thy brain,
Ear richer treasures than her galleons bore.
Two worlds shall weep for thee, the Old, the New,
Now that the marble and the canvas wait
In vain to cheer the homes and hearts so true
Thy immortality made desolate,
While angels on imperishable scroll
Record the wondrous beauty of thy soul."
It was written, as I have learned since I copied it into this note, by a very
cultivated lady of New York, Mrs. John Sherwood.
CHAPTER XXVII.
1853-1858.
FIRST SUMMER AT LYNN. WORK ON " PHILIP THE SECOND." MEMO-
RANDA ABOUT IT. PRINTS THE FIRST TWO VOLUMES. THEIR SUC-
CESS. ADDITION TO ROBERTSON'S "CHARLES THE FIFTH." MEMOIR
OF MR. ABBOTT LAWRENCE. GOES ON WITH "PHILIP THE SECOND."
ILLNESS. DINNER AT MR. GARDINER'S. CORRESPONDENCE.
MR. PRE SCOTT went to Lynn on the 21st of June,
1853. He found it, as he recorded a few days after-
wards, "a sober, quiet country, with the open ocean spread
out before him. What," he added, " can be better for study
and meditation ? I hope to show the fruits of it, and yet, in
this tonic air, defy the foul fiend dyspepsia. At any rate, I
shall be less plagued with rheumatism."
His first season in his new villa, however, was not very fruit-
ful in literary results, and he was little satisfied. It was hard
to get settled, and interruptions from affairs were frequent.
But his life there was not without its appropriate enjoyments.
He had visits from his friends Sir Charles and Lady Lyell,
and from the Earl and Countess of Ellesmere, and - he was
with them all in a gay visit to New York, where they went
for the Exhibition of that year, to which Lord Ellesmere and
Sir Charles Lyell had come as Commissioners on behalf of the
British government. But, though these were interruptions,
they were much more than compensated for by the pleasure
they gave, and, after all, he made progress enough to insure
to him that feeling of success which he always found important
for sustaining his industry. In fact, by October he was so far
advanced with the second volume of " Philip the Second," that
he began to make calculations as to the number of pages it
might fill, as to the disposition of the remaining materials, and
as to the time when the whole would be ready for the press.
But his arrangements contemplated some postponement of the
376 WILLIAM mCKLING PKESCOTT.
publication beyond the time he had originally proposed for it.
When noting this circumstance, he added, with characteristic
good-humor, " The public, I fancy, will not object to waiting."
His results, however, in this case differed more than usual
from his calculations. The space filled by the troubles of
Philip with the Barbary powers, by the siege of Malta, and
by the tragedy of Don Carlos, was more than double what
he had reckoned for them. The consequence was, that the
Morisco rebellion and the battle of Lepanto, which had been
destined for the second volume, were necessarily postponed to
the third. But all these subjects interested and excited him.
From this time, therefore, he worked vigorously and well, and
on the 22d of August, 1854, he finished the last note to the
last chapter of the second volume.
On this occasion he made the following memoranda :
By next spring, when I trust these volumes will be published, nearly
eight years will have elapsed since the publication of the " Conquest of
Peru/' which was also in two volumes, and which was published in less
than four years after the appearance of the " Conquest of Mexico." The
cause of this difference is to be charged even more on the state of my eyes
than on the difficulty and extent of the subject. For a long time after
the " Peru " was published I hardly ventured to look into a book, and
though I have grown bolder as I have advanced, my waning vision has
warned me to manage my eye with much greater reserve than formerly.
Indeed, for some time after I had finished the " Peru," I hesitated whether
I should grapple with the whole subject of "Philip " in exlenso ; and,
when I made up my mind to serve up the whole barbecue instead of par-
ticular parts, I had so little confidence in the strength of my vision, that
I thought of calling the work " Memoirs," and treating the subject in a
more desultory and superficial manner than belongs to a regular history.
I did not go to work in a business-like style till I broke ground on the
troubles of the Netherlands. Perhaps my critics may find this out.
My first chapter was written in July, 1849, at Nahant ; my last of the
second volume concluded at this date at Lynn, which allows about five
years for the actual composition of the work, from which six months
must be deducted for a visit to England.
The amount of the two volumes I reckon at about eleven hundred and
fifty pages, one hundred and fifty more than a wise economy would have
prescribed ; but I hope the reader will be the gaicer by it. Nothing
remains now but to correct the earlier portions of the work, especially
those relating to Charles the Fifth, in which all my new tilings have been
forestalled since I began to write by Mignet, Stirling, &c., a warning to
procrastinating historians. This tinkering, with a few biographical notices,
ought not to take more than two or three months, if my eyes stand by me.
But, Quien sake ? The two months I have been here I have hardly had
PUBLICATION OF "PHILIP THE SECOND." 377
two weeks' use of the eye ; so much for a stupid strain of the muscles,
rather than the nerve, just before I left town.
In November he began to stereotype the work, at the rate of
ten pages a day. Each volume held out a little more than his
estimate, but the whole was completed in May, 1855, his friend
Mr. Folsom revising it all with great care as it went through
the press. It was not, however, immediately published. To
suit the exigencies of the time, which, from severe financial
embarrassments, were unfavorable to literary enterprise, it did
not appear, either in England or in the United States, until
November.
An adverse decision of the House of Lords as to the power
of a foreigner to claim copyright in England had, however, cut
him off from his brilliant prospects there ; and in the United
States he had changed his publishers, not from any dissatis-
faction with them, for, as he said, they had dealt well with
him from first to last, but from circumstances wholly of a
financial character.
Six months after the publication of the first two volumes
of " Philip the Second," he made the following notice of the
result :
A settlement made with my publishers here last week enables me to
speak of the success of the work. In England it has been published in
four separate editions ; one of them from the rival house of Routledge.
It has been tAvice reprinted in Germany, and a Spanish translation of it is
now in course of publication at Madrid. In this country eight thousand
copies have been sold, while the sales of the preceding works have been so
much improved by the impulse received from this, that nearly thirty
thousand volumes of them have been disposed of by my Boston pub-
lishers, from whom I have received seventeen thousand dollars for the
" Philip " and the other works the last six months. So much for the
lucre !
From the tone of the foreign journals and those of my own country, it
would seem that the work has found quite as much favor as any of its
predecessors, and, as the sales have been much greater than of any other
of them in the same space of time, I may be considered to have as favor-
able a breeze to carry me forward on my long voyage as I could desire.
This is very important to me, as I felt a little nervous in regard to the
reception of the work, after so long an interval since the preceding one
had appeared.
It is needless to add anything to a simple statement like this.
The success of the work was complete, and has continued so.
378 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
The reviews of it on its first appearance were less numerous
than they had been in the case of its predecessors. It was a
foregone conclusion that the book would be equal to its sub-
ject ; and, besides, the sale both in England and in the United
States was so large and so prompt, that the public decision was,
in fact, made quite as soon as the critics could have been heard.
There was, however, no difference of opinion anywhere on the
matter ; and, if there had been, the favorable judgment of M.
Guizot, in the " Edinburgh Review" for January, 1857, would
have outweighed many such as are commonly pronounced by
persons little competent to decide questions they so gravely
claim to adjudicate. 1
But while the publication of the first two volumes of the
" History of Philip the Second " was going on, Mr. Prescott
was occupied with another work on a kindred subject, and one
which seemed to grow out of the circumstances of the case by
a sort of natural necessity. I refer to the latter part of the
reign and life of Philip's illustrious father. It was plain that
the accounts of Gachard, drawn from manuscript sources, which
had been already so well used in English by Stirling, and in
French by Mignet, 2 respecting the life of Charles the Fifth
after his abdication, were so different from the accounts given
by Robertson, that his eloquent work could no longer serve as
a sufficient link between the times of Ferdinand and Isabella
and those of their grandson ; still less between those of their
grandson and Philip the Second. It had therefore more than
once been suggested to Mr. Prescott that he should himself
fill up the interval with an entirely new work on the reign of
Charles the Fifth.
But this was a task he was unwilling to undertake. On the
one hand, he had no wish to bring himself at all into competi-
.! On the first of January, 1860, nearly 13,000 copies of these two volumes
of the " History of Philip the Second" had been sold; but the number in
England could not be given with exactness ; although a few days later it was
known that the number must have been greater than had been assumed in
making up the above estimate.
2 The Cloister Life of the Emperor Charles V., by William Stirling (Lon-
don, 1852, 8vo). Charles-Quint, son Abdication, son Sej'our et sa Mort au
Monastere de Yuste, par M. Mignet (Paris, 1854, 8vo). Gachard, L. P.,
Retraite et Mort de Charles-Quint, au Monastere de Yuste (Bruxelles, 3 vol.
8vo, 1854, sqq.).
MEMOIR OF MR. LAWRENCE. 379
tion with the Scotch historian, who had so honorably won his
laurels ; and, on the other, the reign of Philip the Second opened
to him a long vista of years all filled with labor ; besides which
the times of Charles the Fifth constituted a wide subject, for
which he had made no collections, and which he had examined
only as a portion of Spanish history intimately connected with
the portions immediately preceding and following it, to which
he had already devoted himself. Still, he admitted that some-
thing ought to be done in order to bring the concluding period
of Robertson's History into harmony with facts now known
and settled, and with the representations which must constitute
the opening chapters of his own account of the reign of Philip
the Second.
In May, 1855, therefore, he began to prepare a new con-
clusion to Robertson's " Charles the Fifth," and in the January
following had completed it. It embraces that portion of the
Emperor's life which followed his abdication, and makes about
a hundred and eighty pages. It was not published until the
succeeding December, the intervening months having been re-
quired to prepare and print the volumes of Robertson, to which
the account of the last year of the Emperor's life, the one at
Yuste, was to be the conclusion.
I was then in Europe, and on the 8th of December, 1856,
he wrote to me :
My " Charles the Fifth," or rather Kobertson's, with my Continuation,
made his bow to the public to-day, like a strapping giant with a little
urchin holding on to the tail of his coat. I can't say I expect much from
it, as the best and biggest part is somewhat of the oldest. But people
who like a complete series will need it to fill up the gap betwixt " Ferdi-
nand" and "Philip."
It had, however, the same sort of success with all his other
works. Six thousand nine hundred copies were published in
London and Boston before the end of eighteen hundred and
fifty-nine.
As soon as his continuation of Robertson was completed,
he gave a few weeks to the preparation of a Memoir of his
friend and kinsman, Mr. Abbott Lawrence, who had died in
the preceding month of August.. It is a graceful and becom-
ing tribute to an eminent man, who deserved well not only of
380 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
Massachusetts, where he was born and always lived, but of
the country which he had faithfully served in many high ca-
pacities at home and abroad, and which had wellnigh called
him to what, in the course of events, became the highest. 3
The Memoir is short, originally prepared for the National Por-
trait Gallery, and subsequently printed in a beautiful quarto
form for private distribution.
In the beginning of March, 1856, he turned again to his
" History of Philip the Second," and went on with it, not
rapidly, perhaps, but still, with the exception of the time when
he was partly occupied in correcting for the press his addition
to " Charles the Fifth," his progress was good. He had a
pleasant summer at Lynn, during the heats of the season, and
enjoyed his life so well in *the autumn at Pepperell, that he
again thought he might make his holidays there longer in
succeeding years. But he never did.
" Our autumn villeggiatura" he says, under date of October 30th, 1856,
" has been charming, as usual, the weather remarkably fine, many
of the days too Indian-summerish, however. 4 The vegetation has been
remarkably fresh to a late period, from the great rains, and then fading,
or rather flushing into a blaze of glorious colors, which, as they passed
away, and the fallen leaves strewed the ground with their splendors, have
been succeeded by wider reaches of the landscape and the dark-blue moun-
tains in the distance. The old trees seem like friends of earlier days, still
spreading out their venerable arms around me, and reminding me of him
by whose hands so many of them were planted. No spot that I own is so
full of tender reminiscences to me.
The time has been propitious, as usual, to mental, and, I trust, moral
progress. I have worked con amove, as I always do in these quiet shades,
though not with the furore of those tunes when I turned off sometimes
3 Mr. Lawrence came very near being nominated by the Whig party's
convention as their candidate for Vice-President of the United States, instead
of Mr. Fillmore, on the same ticket with General Taylor. In that case, he
would, on the death of General Taylor, have become President of the United
States, as did Mr. Fillmore Mr. Lawrence lacked very few votes of this
high success; and I shall never forget the quiet good-humor with which, a few
minutes after he knew that he had failed of the nomination as Vice-Presi-
dent, he came into my house, being my next-door neighbor, and told rne of it.
4 This peculiar New England season is well described in a note to the
eighth sermon of a small collection first printed privately in 1812, and after-
wards published, by the late Rev. James Freeman, one of the wise and good
men of his time.
" The southwest is the pleasantest wind which blows in New England. In
the month of October, in particular, after the frosts which commonly take
PAINS IN THE HEAD. 381
fifteen pages in a day. But my eyes my literary legs grow feebler
and feebler, as I near my grand climacteric. I hope it will be long, how-
ever, before I shall have to say, Solve senescentem. I would rather die in
harness. Another year, I trust, we may get some way into December
before going into town. But I don't know. It takes two to make a
bargain in my family.
The winter that followed, 1856-7, was an unhappy one,
and not without painful auguries. I was then in Italy. My
letters' informed me that my friend was suffering from severe
headaches. He wrote me, in reply to inquiries on the subject,
that it was true he had suffered from a new sort of troubles ;
but he wrote lightly and pleasantly, as if it were a matter of
little consequence. The greatest severity of his pain was from
December to March. During that period, he was often unable
to work at all, and from time to time, and generally for some
hours every day, his sufferings were very severe.
On my return home in September, 1857, 1 found his appear-
ance considerably changed. He was much better, I was assured,
than he had been during the winter; and the ever-watchful
Mrs. Prescott told me that he had been able for several months
to pursue his literary labors nearly every day, though cautiously
and sometimes not without anxiety on her part. He was, I
thought, not a sound man, as he was when I had last seen him,
fifteen or sixteen months before ; for, although he suffered less
pain in his head than he had for some time, he was seldom free
from annoyance there. He, however, regarded the affection,
in its different forms, as rheumatic, and as connected with all
the kindred maladies that from his youth had been lurking in
place at the end of September, it frequently produces two or three weeks of
fair weather, in which the air is perfectly transparent, and the clouds, which
float in a sky of the purest azure, are adorned with brilliant colors. If at this
season a man of an affectionate hen^ >, and ardent imagination should visit the
tombs of his friends, the southwestern breezes, as they breathe through the
glowing trees, would seem to him almost articulate. Though he might not
be so rapt in enthusiasm as to fancy that the spirits of his ancestors were
whispering in his ear, yet he would at least imagine that he heard the still,
small voice of God. This charming season is called the Indian Summer, a
name which is derived from the natives, who believe that it is caused by a
wind which comes immediately from the court of their great and benevolent
God, Cautantowwit, 'or the Southwestern God, the God who is superior to all
other beings; who sends them every blessing which they enjoy, and to whom
the souls of their fathers go after their decease."
382 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT,
his system. I would gladly have agreed with him, but, when
I occasionally observed that the pain he suffered flushed his
face and neck with a dark mahogany color, I could not drive
away the apprehensions that haunted me.
Still he was almost always able to occupy himself, at least
a part of each day, with his literary labors ; and in the first
weeks of the new year he wrote the opening chapters of the
Sixth Book of his " Philip the Second," or, if the concluding
paragraphs of the last of them were not absolutely committed
to paper at that time, they were composed, as was his custom,
in his memory, and were ready to be written down at the first
moment of leisure. This was the condition of things at the end
of January, 1858.
But, though he did not feel himself strong and well during
the latter part of 1857 and in the opening days of 1858, still
he enjoyed life almost as he had done in its happiest years.
He not only worked, and did it well, but he took the same
sort of pleasure in society that he always had. Dining with
friends, which had been his favorite mode of social enjoyment,
as it had been his father's, was continued, and especially dining
with a few; an indulgence which he could not permit to be
interfered with. One of the last of these occasions I suppose
the very last, before his illness in February, 1858, interrupted
them for several months is so happily described by his life-
long friend, Mr. Gardiner, that I take muqh pleasure in giving
his account of it entire. He is speaking of a sort of dinners
that Prescott used to call croneyings, which he particularly
enjoyed, and of which there are occasional, though very rare
and slight, notices in his Memoranda.
" "With what mingled emotions," says Mr. Gardiner, " I recall the last
of these occasions ! I am enabled to fix its date veiy nearly. It was at
my own house, either on the last day of January, or one of the earliest
days of February, 1858. It was a party so small that it hardly deserves
the name. Prescott and two of his most intimate friends, besides myself
and my family, were all who filled a small round table. He had suffered
during the past year from frequent and severe headaches ; a source of
more uneasiness to his friends than to himself, for he never attributed these
headaches to what the event proved them to be. He thought them either
neuralgic, or a new phase of his old enemy, rheumatism ; nothing that
required extraordinary care. For a few days past he had been unusually
free from them, and this day he was particularly bright and clear. From
LETTER TO LADY LYELL. 383
the -beginning he was in one of his most lively and amusing moods. The
ladies were induced by it to linger longer at the table than usual. When
they had left, the whole company was reduced to only a party of four, but
of very old friends, each of whom was stored with many reminiscences of
like occasions, running far back into younger days. Prescott overflowed
with the full tide of mirth belonging to those days. It was a gush of rare
enjoyment. After nearly five years, the date at which I write, I cannot
recall a thing that was said. Probably nothing was said in itself worth
recalling, nothing that would bear to stand alone on cold paper. But all
that quick-wittedness, lively repartee, sparkling humor, exceeding naivete,
and droll manner of saying droll things, for which he was so remarkable
when he let himself out with perfect freedom, were brought into full play.
And then he laughed, as he only could laugh, at next to nothing, when
he was in one of these moods, and made us inevitably laugh too, almost
as the Cambridge Professor did, according to his own story. He stayed,
too, considerably beyond his usual time, the rarest of all things with him.
But he had come bent on having < a good time/ it was so long, he said,
since he had had one, and laid out for it accordingly.
" On comparing notes a few days afterwards with the two friends who
were present, we all agreed that we had not seen ' the great historian ' for
years in such a state of perfect youthful abandonment.
" It was a sad note of solemn warning which led us to make that com-
parison. But the picture of him as he was that night, in all his merri-
ment, will never fade from the memory till all fades."
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, November 4, 1854.
We passed a very quiet month in old Pepperell. Susan was so fatigued
with the rather bustling life we led at Lynn, that I proposed we should
live like anchorites, bating the bread and water, in the country. So we
had only the children and little ones. One friend, the ex-Mi uister to Eng-
land, spent indeed a couple of days with us. Groton, the next town, you
know, to Pepperell, was his birthplace. His father was a lieutenant in
my grandfather's regiment on the memorable day of Bunker Hill, when
British tyranny was so well humbled, you recollect. The two brave com-
panions in arms were great friends, and, being neighbors, often sipped
their toddy together in the same room where their descendants took their
champagne and sherry, the latter some of the good I do not say the best
fruits of our glorious Revolution. It was rather interesting to think of
it, was it not ? But poor Lawrence went from us to Groton to pass a few
days, and while there had a bad attack of I don't know what, nor the
doctors either great pains in the chest, pressure on the head, and insen-
sibility. Yet they do not think it apoplectic in its character, but arising
from a disturbance of the liver, to which he has been subject. Any way
it is very alarming. It is the third attack of the kind he has had in six
weeks, and it makes all his friends " guess and fear" for the future. He
is now on a very careful regimen, and pays little attention to business or
384 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
anything that can excite him. His loss would be a great one to this com-
munity, and it certainly would be inestimable to his family. There are
few whom I should be more sorry to part with, for besides good sense and
large practical information he has such a genial nature, with such frank
and joyous manners as are not often found among us cold-blooded Yan-
kees. I would not have you think from all this that he is at the point of
death. On the contrary, I have just met him in the street, and looking
very well. But his constitution is shaken.
Soon after our return to town your friends, the Governor-General of
all the Canadas and lady, turned up again, to my great satisfaction, as I
wished to see them, and have the opportunity of paying them some atten-
tion. I dined with them at the Ticknors day before yesterday, and to-day
they dine with us. We shall have a dozen more friends, thefamille Sears,
the elder and younger branches, the Ticknors supported by Hillard, and
our brave Ex-Consul Aspinwall. Do you think it will be prim and
prosy ? I wish you and your husband were to help us out with it. I
like the Heads very much, the little I have seen of them ; well-bred, un-
affected, and intellectual people, with uncommon good-nature for travellers,
i. e. John Bull travellers.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, December 24, 1854.
Have you seen Lord Carlisle's volume of Travels ? He sent it to me
the other day, and it strikes me as a very agreeable record, and full of the
noble sentiments which belong to him.
So poor Lockhart has paid the great debt. Was it not a touching
thing that he should have died on the spot endeared to him by so many
tender and joyous recollections, and of the same disease which destroyed
Sir Walter too ! I liked Lockhart, the little I saw of him ; and a vein
of melancholy tinged with the sarcastic gave an interesting piquancy to'
his conversation. I don't know that it made his criticism more agreeable
to those who were the subjects of it.
TO LADY LiELL.
BOSTON, December 31, 1854.
Thank you, dear Lady Lyell, for your kind note and the likeness s
which accompanied it. It is charming; the noble, expansive forehead,
the little mouth that does not speak. Nothing can be more perfect.
It will make a nice pendant to Ticknor's, executed in the same way. This
crystallotype if that is the name it goes by with you as it does with us
is a miraculous invention, and one by no means auspicious to the en-
graver, or indeed the painter. Apollo, in old times, was the patron of the
fine arts, and of painting among the rest. But in our days he is made to
become painter himself.
Of Sir Charles Lyell.
LETTER FROM LORD CARLISLE. 385
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, March 15, 1855.
I envy you your Continental tour, especially your visit to Berlin. It is
a capital I should like well to see, if it were only to meet Humboldt, one
of the very few men in the world whom one would take the trouble to
walk a mile to see ; now that the Iron Duke is dead, I hardly know an-
other I would go half that distance to have a look at. I have had some
very kind letters from Humboldt, who has always taken a friendly interest
in my historical career; and, as this has lain in his v path, it has enabled
me to appreciate the immense services he has done to science and letters
by his curious researches and his beautiful manner of exhibiting the results
of them to the reader.
FROM LORD CARLISLE.
CASTLE HOWARD, March 20, 1856.
OPTIME ET CARISSIME,
Nothing ever pleased me more, except perhaps your own most kind -and
indulgent verdict, than the opinion you enclosed to me from the erudite
and weighty authority of Felton. 6 For, besides all his intrinsic titles to
respect and deference as scholar, author, and critic, he had himself drunk
in the inspiration of the self-same scenes, and knows how feebly the pale
coloring of words can portray all the glowing realities of those classic
shores. I will attend to your behest about the book when I get back to
London. You will excuse me for guiding myself by Homeric precedent,
so I shall presume to expect a Diomedean exchange of armor, and, in re-
turn for my light texture, to receive your full mail-clad "Philip the
Second."
You will have perceived that we have been shifting scenes on our polit-
ical stage with much rapidity and not a little complexity of plot. I ap-
pear myself before you in a new character. 7 Suppose you come and see
how I comport myself in it. I had once an opportunity of showing you
a real sovereign, and I can now treat you to the representation of a mock
one. I will not guarantee, however, that I may not have to descend from
my throne before you can reach its august presence.
I take up my abode in Ireland about Easter. I have a comfortable
residence there, and a most agreeable view ; not so sparkling as that over
the -ZEgean and Cyclades, but over bright fresh green and a good outline
of hill. I am quite serious in urging you to come. You may send Sum-
ner too.
6 Professor Felton, afterwards the much-loved President of Harvard Col-
lege, edited and illustrated with his pleasant learning " The Diary in Turkish
and Greek Waters," of Lord Carlisle (1855).
7 As Viceroy of Ireland.
17 T
386 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
Peace be with you and yours at least, if it cannot be with the whole
world.
Most affectionately,
CARLISLE.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, April 25, 1855.
I don't think I do myself quite justice in saying I am a fixture, because
I stick to the easy-chair ; for, after all, the mind is the man, and my mind
has carried me over many a league since I saw you last, and far back, too,
into other centuries. If I should go to heaven when I quit this dirty ball,
I shall find many acquaintances there, and some of them very respectable,
of the olden time ; many whose letters I have read since their death, never
intended for vulgar eyes to feed upon. Don't you think I should have a
kindly greeting from good Isabella ? Even Bloody Mary, I think, will
smile on me ; for I love the old Spanish stock, the house of Trastamara.
But there is one that I am sure will owe me a grudge, and that is the very
man I have been making two big volumes upon. With all my good-na-
ture I can't wash him even into the darkest French gray. He is black
and all black. My friend Madame Calderon will never forgive me. Is it
not charitable to give Philip a place in heaven 7
So Lord Carlisle has got the Irish sceptre. He has written kindly to
ask me to visit him this summer, and see his vice-regal state. I should
like nothing better ; but I have my four acres of lawn, and ever so many
greener acres of salt water to overlook, to say nothing of generations of
descendants, who will be crying out for me like pelicans in the wilderness,
should I abscond. An edition, by the by, of Carlisle's book is in the press
here, and will come out under Felton's care. He went over the same
ground, at about the same time with Lord C.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, June 17, 1855.
We are very busy just now preparing for our seaside flitting. It is a
great pleasure to us that Elizabeth is to be so near us. 8 Her new house
is on a larger scale, and every way a more ambitious affair, than ours. I
expect to revel in babies, for William and his wife arid nursery take up
their quarters the first month with us. 9 I suppose Anna Ticknor, with
whom I dined yesterday, no one but the family, has told you of Mr.
Lawrence's illness. It is the old trouble, chiefly of the liver. A fortnight
since as I walked with him round the Common, I told him he was losing
ground and should go to Europe. I went in and saw his wife, and it was
8 Mrs. James Lawrence, his only daughter, removed this season to a sum-
mer villa in his neighborhood at Lynn.
? His eldest son, then expected from Europe with his family.
LETTER FROM THE EARL OF ELLESMERE. 387
arranged before I left, that he should take passage for England the 20th
of Juue. That uight he became very ill, and has been ever since in bed.
He is now slowly mending, and, if well enough, will embark probably
early in July ; I should not think, however, before the middle of it. He
just sent me from his sick-bed a scrap of paper, simply stating that
"eighty years ago, June 17th, his father and my grandfather fought side
by side on Bunker Hill," a stirring reminiscence for a sick-bed.
FROM THE EAKL OF ELLESMERE.
OXFORD, September 27, 1855.
DEAR MR. PRESCOTT,
Your kind and sad letter has remained long unacknowledged. It
reached me at a moment when I was leaving London for an excursion
less of pleasure than of business, a visit to the Paris Exhibition ; and
from my arrival there to my return a few days since I have been deprived
of any use of my right hand by my usual enemy. If my right hand had
more cunning than it pretends to, it could not convey what either Lady
Ellesmere or myself feels on the frustration of the pleasant hope we had
lately entertained of meeting again with the kind and good friend, whom
I yet hope to meet, though not in this weary world. 10
It seems but a day, but an hour, since he left us,
With no sign to prepare us, no warning to pain,
As we clung to the hand of which death has bereft us,
Little thinking we never should clasp it again.
We ought to have thought so ; to earth, for a season,
Worth, friendship, and goodness are lent, but not given;
And faith but confirms the conjecture of reason,
That the dearest to earth are the fittest for heaven.
I venture to quote the above, not as good, for they are my own, but as
apposite, be they whose they may. They were written on the loss of a
very valued friend and relative, Lord William Bentinck. We need no
knell over the Atlantic to tell us of the frailty of human ties. I have
personally been spared as yet, and no name is coupled with the horrors of
our late Crimean despatches which directly concerns mine or me ; but
some have been reaped in this bloody harvest whom I knew enough to
value, and many a son among the number are exposed to the further
chances of this awful and apparently interminable struggle. Nothing
is on record since the siege of Jerusalem, unless it be some of the pas-
sages of the retreat from Moscow, which equals the sickening horrors of
the " Times" of to-day; and we in England, though our people did what
they could, and died in the Redan, have not the blaze of success to con-
sole us, which makes France forget its losses. I believe our cause is good.
I cannot truly say that in other respects, as a nation, we have deserved
other than severe trial, for we entered on this war, in my opinion, witli
much levity, ignorance, and presumption. I think we were right in going
to war, and that we could not long have avoided it ; but it is one thing to
10 Mr. Abbott Lawrence.
388 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
face a great calamity calmly and sternly, from a sense of right and duty,
and another to court the encounter with cheers and jeers and vaunting. I
writhe under the government of Journalism. We are governed at home,
and represented abroad, by a press which makes us odious to the world.
I am here at Oxford doing rather hard and unpaid service on a com-
mission fov shaping out and regulating the introduction of the changes
directed by Parliament in the University ; a good deal of dry and
heavy detail, but not without interest and some prospect of ultimate
advantage. I lie on my back, and dignities drop into my mouth. I am
appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Lancashire, for the excellent reason that
there happens to be nobody else who comes within the usual category of
qualifications of rank, residence, and political tendencies. It makes me a
General of seven regiments of militia, an Admiral, and Gustos Rotulorum,
and covers me with silver-lace and epaulets ! It does not, thank Heaven,
in Lancashire convey, as in other counties, the power of recommending
persons to the magistracy. The fact is, there is usually nothing to do in
the office, but at present the militia does involve some business
E. ELLESMERE.
FROM MR. HALLAM.
PICKHURST BROOMLEY, Kent, December 6, 1855.
MY DEAR MR. PRESCOTT,
I must return you my best thanks for your very kind present of your
" History of Philip -the Second," which I received in town from Bentley
last week. I only repeat the universal opinion in praising the philosoph-
ical depth of reflection, the justness of the sentiments, and the admirable
grace of the style. I have not been lately in the way of seeing many
people, but I am convinced that there will hardly be a difference of opin-
ion upon the subject. If I regret anything, it is that you have so large a
portion of your labor left behind.
You are quite right in supposing that the local interest about public
events is unfavorable to literature. Macaulay's volumes will probably
appear within a fortnight. He prints, I believe, twenty-five thousand
copies, and they are all bespoken.
With my best wishes, believe me, my dear Mr. Prescott,
Very truly yours,
HENRY HALLAM.
TO MRS. MILMAN.
BOSTON, December 24, 1855.
I had a note from Macaulay the other day, in which he spoke of having
just finished his book. I suppose ere now it is launched upon the great
deep. I am glad that he has given me time to get out of the way with
my little argosy, before taking the wind out of my sails. His readers on
LETTER TO COUNT CIRCOURT. 389
this side of the water count by thousands and tens of thousands. There
is no man who speaks to such an audience as Macaulay. It is certainly a
great responsibility. I was sorry to learn from him that he was confined
to his house. When I was in England, he seemed to have too robust a
constitution to be easily shaken by disease.
I gather my little circle of children and grandchildren about me to-
morrow, to keep our merry Christmas. There will be a touch of sadness
in it, however ; for more than one seat will be made vacant by the death
of poor Mr. Lawrence. His death has made a sad gap in our family
gatherings. He will long live in the hearts of all who knew him.
Pray remember me, my dear Mrs. Milman, in the kindest manner, to
my good friend your husband, and to your family, and believe me
Very truly and affectionately yours,
WM. H. PKESCOTT.
TO COUNT ADOLPHE DE CIRCOUKT.
BOSTON, April 7, 1856.
MY DEAR COUNT CIRCOURT,
I have read with the greatest pleasure your letter containing your
remarks upon " Philip the Second." The subject is a difficult one to
treat, and 'I have naturally felt a good deal of solicitude in regard to the
judgment of competent critics upon it. The opinions, as far as I have
gathered them from the criticisms that have appeared in England and in
this country, have certainly been very friendly to me ; but I cannot but
feel that very few of those that criticise the work are particularly qualified
to judge of it, for the simple reason, that they are not acquainted with the
subject, or with the historic sources from which the narrative is derived.
I was particularly gratified, therefore, to get an opinion from you so
favorable on the whole to the execution of the task. And yet I am
aware that, from a friend such as you are, not merely the g'ranum salts,
but a whole bushel of salt, to take our English measure, must be allowed.
I have also had the pleasure of receiving this week a letter from Gachard,
and no critic can be more qualified certainly in what relates to the Nether-
lands, and I hope you will not think it vanity in me when I say to you
that his approval of my labors was conveyed in a tone of apparent candor
and good faith which gave me sincere pleasure.
What gave me no less pleasure than your general commendation was
the list of errata which accompanied it; not that I was happy to find I had
made so many blunders, but that I possessed a friend who had the candor
and sagacity to point them out. I am filled with astonishment when I
reflect on the variety, the minuteness, and the accuracy of your knowl-
edge. With this subject, thrown up by chance before you, you seem to
be as familiar as if it had been your specialite. I shall not fail to profit
by your intelligent criticism, as my future editions in England and my
own country will testify. Allow me to say, however, that your closing
critique on a reading of Balbi, which I give in the notes, is not, I think,
conformable to the author's meaning. This I gather from the context as
well as from a more explicit statement on the subject by Calderon, another
390 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
authority quoted by me, from whom the reasons given by me in the text
are more especially derived. When the notice which you have been so
kind as to write of the work appears, you will have the kindness to send
it to me ; and this reminds me that I have not been so fortunate as to
receive an article which you promised some time since to send me on the
career of Charles le Temeraire, a subject which has much interest for me,
and which I trust you will not forget.
Do you know that our friends the Ticknors propose to visit Europe in
the spring, and to pass a year or more on the Continent ? I know you
will like to take by the hand again this dear old friend, who has a mind
as bright, and a heart as warm, as in earlier days. I know no one whose
society I can so ill spare. I met your friend Mrs. last evening, and
she spoke to me about you and Madame de Circourt, whom she spoke of
as being in a very poor state of health. I was aware that she had suf-
fered much from the deplorable accident which lately befell her ; but I
trust, for your sake and for that of the society of which she is so distin-
guished an ornament, that her apprehensions have exaggerated the
amount of her illness.
I congratulate you on the termination of this unhappy war, which
seemed likely to bring nothing but misery to all the parties engaged in it,
though Napoleon may have found his account in the lustre which it has
thrown upon the French arms ; a poor compensation, after all, to a
reflecting mind, for the inevitable evils of war. In the mean time you
are blessed with an imperial baby, which, I suppose, is equivalent to half
a dozen victories, and which will be worth more to Napoleon, if it can
serve to perpetuate his dynasty. But whoever has read the past of France
for the last thirty years will feel no great confidence in omens for the
future.
We have some petty subjects for quarrelling with John Bull on hand
just now, which may easily be disposed of, if the governments of the two
countries are in a tolerably amiable mood. If they are not, I trust there
is good sense and good feeling enough in the two nations to prevent their
coming to blows about trifles which are not of the slightest real import-
ance to either party. Unhappily, it does sometimes happen that disputes,
which are founded on feeling rather than reason, are the most difficult for
reasonable men to settle.
With constant regard, believe me, my dear Count Circourt,
Very truly your friend,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO SIB CHAKLES LYELL.
BOSTON, November 11, 1856.
I wrote to her [Lady Lyell] in my last letter, I think, that I was about
to send something again in the historical way into the world. The
greater part, however, is not my work, but that of a much bigger man.
Robertson, you know, closes his " History of Charles the Fifth " with his
reign, bestowing only two or three pages, and those not the most accurate,
LETTER FROM DEAN MILMAN. 891
on his life after his abdication. As his reign comes between that of Fer-
dinand and Isabella and the reign of that virtuous monarch Philip the
Second (who may be considered as to other Catholics what a Puseyite
is to other Protestants), my publishers thought it would be a proper
thing that is a good thing if I were to furnish a continuation of Rob-
ertson, for which I have the materials, so as to bring him within the
regular series of my historical works. This I have accordingly done to
the tune of some hundred and fifty pages, with comparatively little trouble
to myself, having already touched on this theme in " Philip the Second."
It was intended for the Yankee public in particular ; but Routledge brings
it out in London in four editions at once ; and a copy of the largest octavo
I have ordered him to send to you. Do not trouble yourself to read it,
or thank me for it, but put it on your shelves, as a memento of friend-
ship, very sincere, for you.
FROM DEAN MILMAN.
DEANERY ST. PAUL'S, December 1, 1856.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
The date of your last letter looks reproachfully at me, but I am sure
that you will ascribe my long silence to anything rather than want of the
most sincere and cordial friendship. I received it during our summer
wanderings in Germany, where we passed many weeks holiday- weeks
in great enjoyment, and, I rejoice and am thankful to be able to say, in
uninterrupted, perhaps improved, health. We paid a visit to our friend
Bunsen at Heidelberg, whom we found (I know not whether you made his
acquaintance in England) in the dignity and happiness of literary quiet and
labor, after having so honorably lost his high diplomatic position. He
has a beautifully situated house, looking over the bright Neckar, and up
to the noble ruins of the Castle. From thence we took the course of
the fine Bavarian cities, Aschaffenburg, Wurtzburg, Bamberg, Nurem-
berg. At Donauwik we launched on the rapid Danube, and followed its
stream to Vienna and to Pesth. To us the Danube is a noble stream,
especially after its junction with the Inn, amid the magnificent scenery
about Passau ; though I know that you Americans give yourselves great
airs, and would think but lightly of the power and volume of such a
river. From Vienna to Prague and Dresden. At Dresden we had the
great pleasure of falling in with the Ticknors, whom I had frequently
seen during their short stay in London ; and also with their most charm-
ing relative, our friend Mrs. Twisleton and her lord. Then to Berlin,
and after a peep into Holland we found our way home. We, indeed,
have been hardly settled at home (having paid some visits in the autumn)
till within two or three weeks.
Among the parcels which awaited me on my arrival was your graceful
and just tribute to the memory of our excellent friend, poor Mr. Lawrence.
I should have read it with great interest for his sake if from another hand,
with how much more, when it came from you, executed with your ac-
customed skill and your pleasant style, heightened by your regret and
affection.
392 WILLIAM HICKLING PKESCOTT.
I have not yet seen your concluding chapters (announced in this week's
Athenaeum) to the new edition of Robertson's " Charles the Fifth." I
doubt not that you have found much to say, and much that AVC shall be
glad to read, after Stirling's agreeable book (By the way, at the
Goldene Kreuz Hotel at Kegensburg [Ratisbon], which was once a fine
palace, they show the room in which John of Austria was born.) But
his life is comparatively of trivial moment in the darkening tragedy (for
you must allow it to gather all its 'darkness) of Philip the Second's later
years. Though I would on no account urge you to haste incompatible
with the full investigation of all the accumulating materials of those fear-
ful times, yet you must not allow any one else to step in before you, and
usurp the property which you have so good a right to claim in that awful
impersonation of all that is anti-Christian in him who went to his grave
with the conviction, that he, above all other men, had discharged the
duties of a Christian monarch.
I am now, as you may suppose, enjoying my repose with all my full
and unexhausted interest in literary subjects, in history especially, and
poetry, (I trust that it will last as long as my life,) but without engaging
in any severe or continuous labor. Solve senescentem, is one of the wisest
adages of wise antiquity, though the aged horse, if he finds a pleasant
meadow, may allow himself a light and easy canter. I am taking most
kindly to my early friends, the classic writers ; having read, in the course
of my later life, so much bad Greek and Latin, I have a right to refresh
myself, and very refreshing it is, with the fine clear writings of Greece
and Rome
So far had I written when, behold ! your second letter made its appear-
ance, announcing your promised present of " Charles the Fifth." I at
first thought of throwing what I had written behind the fire, but soon de-
termined rather to inflict upon you another sheet, with my best thanks,
and assurances that I shall not leave my neighbor Mr. Routledge long at
And now to close, my dear friend, I must add Mrs. Milman's kind love.
She begs me to say that you have read her a lesson of charity towards
Philip the Second, which she almost doubts whether your eloquence can
fully enforce upon her
H. H. MILMAN.
Do come and see us again, or make me twenty years younger, that I
may cross to you.
TO LADY MARY LABOUCHERE.
BOSTON, February 7, 1857.
MY DEAR LADY MARY,
It was with very great pleasure that I received the kind note in your
handwriting, which looked like a friend that I had not looked upon for a
long time. And this was followed soon after by the portrait of your dear
mother, forwarded to me by Colnaghi from London. It is an excellent
likeness, and recalls the same sweet and benevolent expression which has
lingered in my memory ever since I parted from her at Castle Howard.
LETTER TO LADY LYELL. 398
I have wished that I could think that I should ever see her again in her
princely residence. But there is little chance, I fear, of my meeting her
again in this world. Pray, when you next see her, give my most respect-
ful and affectionate remembrances to her. You have been fortunate in
keeping one parent from the skies so long. My own mother survived till
some few years since, and AVC were never parted till death came between
us. This is a blessing not to be estimated. And she was so good that
her removal, at the age of eighty-four, was an event less to be mourned on
her account than on ours who survived her.
I was extremely sorry to hear of Lord Ellesmere's severe illness. Sir
Henry Holland gave me some account of it in a letter some time since.
From what you write and what I have heard elsewhere, I fear that his
restoration to health is still far from being complete.
I wish there were any news here that would interest you. But I
lead a very quiet, domestic sort of life, which, as far as I am concerned,
affords little that is new. I am at present robbed of both my sons, who
are passing this winter in Paris,, and probably will pass the next in Italy.
The eldest has his wife and children with him, and I carry on a sort of
nursery correspondence with my little granddaughter, who has almost
reached the respectable age of five. My own daughter, Mrs. Lawrence,
and .her two children, live within a stone's-throw of me, both in Boston
and in the country, where we pass our summers. And this doubles the
happiness of life.
It is a pleasant thing for us that our two nations should have such
kindly feelings as they now seem to have for one another. The little
affair of the " Resolute " seems to have called them all out. We are
brethren who have too large an inheritance in common of the past to for-
get it all for some petty quarrel about a thing which can be of no real
importance to either.
I am gkd to learn that the members of your own family are in such
good health. I suppose you see little of Morpeth, to whom I write occa-
sionally, and think myself lucky when I get an answer, especially when it
comes through so kind a secretary as you. I am not likely to forget your
features, for the charming portrait which you last sent me stands in a
frame on a ledge of my book-case in the library, which is our sitting-
.room.
Pray remember me most kindly to your sisters and your brother
Charles, and believe me, dear Lady Mary, with sincere regards to Mr.
Labouchere,
Most truly and affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, April 4, 1857.
I believe I told you of my headaches, which Jackson considers as be-
longing to my rheumatic habits, and bred in the bone. Very bad habits
they are. I am happy to say the aches have nearly subsided, though I
have lost two good months by them. Agassiz, who dined with me on
17*
394 WILLIAM HICKLING PEESCOTT.
Wednesday, filled me with envy by saying he had worked fifteen hours the
day before. What is the man made of? The great book on Turtles has
been delayed, from his desire to make it more complete. He has brought
iuto it discussions on a great variety of themes terrestrial and celestial. It
reminded me, I told him, of the old cosmographical myth of the Indians,
where the world was said to rest on an elephant and the elephant on the
back of a tortoise. For myself, I think it would be a great improvement
if he would furnish a chapter on turtle-doves, with their tender associations,
instead of the real turtle, whose best associations, as far as I know, are
those connected with an alderman or a lord-mayor's feast. But Agassiz
thinks he has not half exhausted the subject
FROM ME. IRVING.
SUNNYSIDE, August 25, 1857.
MY DEAR MR. PRESCOTT,
You say " you don't know whether I care about remarks on my books
from friends, though they be brothers of the craft." I cannot pretend to
be above the ordinary sensitiveness of authorship, and am especially alive
to the remarks of a master-workman like yourself. I have never been less
confident of myself and more conscious of my short-comings, than on this
my last undertaking, and have incessantly feared that the interest might
flag beneath my pen. You may judge, therefore, how much I have been
gratified by your assurance that the interest felt by yourself and Mrs. Pres-
cott on reading the work " went on crescendo from the beginning, and did
not reach its climax till the last pages/'
I thank you, therefore, most heartily, for your kind and acceptable
letter, which enables me to cheer myself with the persuasion that I have
not ventured into the field once too often ; and that my last production
has escaped the fate of the Archbishop of Granada's.
You hint a wish that I would visit your Northern latitudes, and partake
of the good-fellowship that exists there ; and, indeed, it would give me the
greatest pleasure to enjoy communionship with a few choice spirits like
yourself, but I have a growing dread of the vortex of gay society into
which I am apt to be drawn if I stir from home. In fact, the habits of
literary occupation, which of late years I have indulged to excess, have
almost unfitted me for idle, gentlemanly life. Relaxation and repose begin
to be insupportable to me, and I feel an unhealthy hankering after my
study, and a disposition to relapse into hard writing.
Take warning by my case, and beware of literary intemperance.
Ever, my dear Prescott,
Yours very truly,
WASHINGTON IRVING.
?
TO LADY LYELL.
November 30, 1857.
When the times are bad, I fortunately have a snug retreat on my little
farm of the sixteenth century, and an hour or two's conversation with my
LETTER TO LADY LYELL. 395
good friend Philip generally puts me at peace with the world. I suppose
you eschew all books while you are on the wing. If you ever meet with
an English one, and can get hold of Thackeray's last, " The Virginians,"
publishing in numbers, I believe, in England as well as here, I wish you
would look at it, if only to read the first paragraph, in which he pays a
very nice tribute to my old swords of Bunker Hill renown, and to their
unworthy proprietor. It was very prettily done of him. I am well booked
up now in regard to my English friends, first from the Ticknors, whom I
have examined and cross-examined until I am well enough acquainted
with their experiences, and now Sumner has arrived and given me four or
five hours' worth of his in an uninterrupted stream, and a very pleasant
raconteur he is, especially when he talks of the friends of whom I have such
a loving remembrance on your side of the water. He seems to have had
quite a triumphant reception. When a Yankee makes his appearance in
London circles, the first question asked, I fancy, if they think him worth
asking a.ny about, is whether he is a pro-slavery man, or an anti-slavery,
and deal with him accordingly. It would seem droll if, when an English-
man lights on our soil, the first question we should ask should be whether
he was in favor of making the Chinese swallow opium, or whether he was
opposed to it ; as if that were not only the moral, but the social, standard
by which everything was to be tested, and we were to cut him or caress
him accordingly. But Sumner was hailed as a martyr, and enjoys
quite contrary to usage the crown of martyrdom during his own life-
time. His ovation has agreed with him, and he goes to Washington this
week. .
CHAPTER XXVIII.
1858-1859.
FIRST ATTACK OF APOPLEXY. YIELDS READILY. CLEARNESS OF MIND.
COMPOSURE. INFIRMITIES. GRADUAL IMPROVEMENT. OCCUPA-
TIONS. PRINTS THE THIRD VOLUME OF " PHILIP THE SECOND." SUM-
MER AT LYNN AND PEPPERELL. NOTES TO THE " CONQUEST OF MEX-
ICO." KETURN TO BOSTON. DESIRE FOR ACTIVE LITERARY LABOR.
AGUE. CORRESPONDENCE.
ON the 4th of February, 1858, in the afternoon, I hap-
pened to call on my friend for a little visit or a walk,
that being the portion of the day in which, from our respective
occupations, we oftenest saw each other. As I entered, the
air of the servant who opened the door surprised me, and I
hardly understood the words he uttered with great emotion, to
tell me that Mr. Prescott was suddenly and seriously ill. He
had, in fact, been seized in the street a couple of hours before,
and the affection was evidently of the brain, and apoplectic.
The attack occurred just on his return from his accustomed
walk in the early afternoon. Indeed, he reached home with
some difficulty, and went, not without much effort, at once,
and as it were instinctively and almost unconsciously, to his
working study. His mind wandered for a few moments, and
his powers of speech and motion were partly suspended. The
earliest articulate words he uttered were to his wife, as she was
tenderly leaning over him : " My poor wife ! I am so sorry for
you, that this has come upon you so soon ! "
The symptoms were not formidable, and those that seemed
most threatening yielded to remedies in the course of the
afternoon. f His venerable physician, Dr. Jackson, expressed
himself to me at nine o'clock in the evening with much hope-
fulness, and the next day nearly all anxiety concerning an
immediate recurrence of the disease was gone. But a mark
had been made on his physical constitution which was never to
be obliterated.
FIRST ATTACK OP APOPLEXY. 397
For the first two days he was kept almost entirely in bed,
and in a state of absolute rest and quietness, with his room
somewhat darkened. On the third day I saw him. He talked
with me as clearly as he ever had when in full health, and
with intellectual faculties as unclouded. But his utterance
was slightly affected. His movements were no longer assured.
A few words and many proper names did not come promptly
at his summons. He occasionally seemed to see figures espe-
cially the figure of a gentleman in black moving about the
room, though he was quite aware that the whole was an opti-
cal delusion. If he looked into a book, one line was strangely
mingled with another, and the whole became confused and
illegible. All this he explained to me in the simplest and
clearest manner, as if he were speaking, not of his own case,
but of that of another person. He was, in fact, not under the
smallest misapprehension as to the nature of his attack, nor
as to what might be its consequences at a moment's notice.
Neither did he at all exaggerate his danger, or seem alarmed
or anxious at the prospect before him. He saw his condition
as his physicians and his family saw it, and as the result proved
that it must have been from the first.
In five .or six days he walked out with assistance ; but he
was put upon a rigorous, vegetable diet, and his strength re-
turned slowly and imperfectly. After a few weeks the irregu-
larity in his vision was corrected ; his tread became so much
more firm that he ventured into the streets alone ; and his
enunciation, except to the quick ear of affection, was again
distinct and natural. But his utterance never ceased to be
marked with a slight effort ; proper names were never again so
easily recalled as they had been ; and, although his appropriate
gait was recovered, it was at best a little slower than it had
been, and, in the last weeks of his life, when I walked with
him a good deal, he sometimes moved very heavily, and more
than once called my attention to this circumstance as to a con-
siderable change in his condition. In his general appearance,
however, at least to a casual observer, in the expression of his
fine manly countenance, and in his whole outward bearing, he
seemed such as he had always been. Those, therefore, who
saw him only as he was met in his accustomed walks, thought
898 WILLIAM HICKLING PBESCOTT.
him quite recovered. But his family and his more intimate
friends were too vigilant to be thus deluded. They knew, from
the first, that he was no longer the same.
Reading was the earliest pleasure he enjoyed, except that
of the society of his household and of a chosen few out of it.
But it was only the lightest books to which he could listen
safely, novels and tales, and it was only those he liked
best, such as Miss Edgeworth's Helen and Scott's Guy Man-
nering, that could satisfy him enough to enable him to keep his
attention fastened on them. Even of such he soon wearied,
and turned with more interest, though not with conviction, to
parts of Buckle's first volume on the " History of Civilization,"
then recently published. 1
A very different and a stronger interest, however, he felt in
listening, as he did a little later, to the accounts of cases of
eminent men of letters resembling his own ; to Adam Fergu-
son's, in the Memoirs of Lord Cockburn, which was full of
encouragement, and to Scott's, in Lockhart's " Life," which, on
the other hand, could not fail to sadden him, and yet which
he insisted on following, through all its painful details, to its
disheartening, tragical catastrophe.
This phasis of his disease, however, passed gradually away,
and then he began to crave afresh the occupations and modes
of life to which he had always been accustomed ; simple, both,
as they could be, and laborious, but which had become seriously
important to him from long habit. His physician advised a
very moderate and cautious use of wine ; a glass a day at first,
and afterwards a little more, so as to increase his strength, and
enable him to return, hi some degree at least, to the studies
that were so necessary to his daily happiness ; still restricting
him, however, to a merely vegetable diet. The prescriptions
were rigorously obeyed ; and he was able soon to take exercise
in walking equal to four miles a day, which, if it was mate-
rially less than he had found useful and easy when he was in
1 When Professor Playfair was suffering from his last painful disease, his
affectionate attendants tried to amuse him with the early novels of Scott, theu
just in the 'course of publication, and other books of the same sort, which,
when well, he much enjoyed. But now they soon became wearisome to him.
" Try a little of Newton's ' Principia,' " said the dying philosopher; and, for
a time, his attention was commanded.
LAST RESIDENCE IN PEPPERELL. 399
full health, was yet much more than he had of late been able to
sustain. It was, therefore, a great point gained, and he thank-
fully acknowledged it to be such. But still he marked the
difference in his general strength, and knew its meaning.
Encouraged, however, by his improvement, such as it was,
and permitted at least, if .not counselled to it, by his medical
adviser, he now adventured once more within the domain of
his old and favorite studies. He did not, indeed, undertake to
prepare anything for the fourth volume of " Philip the Sec-
ond " ; nor did he even go on to fill out the third to the full
proportions into which he had originally determined to cast it.
But the conclusion of the last chapter that he ever finished,
a few paragraphs only which, as was his wont, he had, I
believe, composed before his attack and had preserved to a
good degree in his memory was now reduced to writing,
and the manuscript completed so far as it was destined ever
to be.
In April, 1858, he went to press with it, and in the course
of the summer the stereotyping was finished ; the whole having
undergone, as it advanced, a careful revision from his ever-
faithful friend, Mr. Folsom. In this part of the work of pub-
lishing, he took much pleasure ; more, I believe, than he had
before in any similar case. The reason is simple. He did not
like to think that he was, in consequence of his diminished
strength, obliged to reduce the amount of his intellectual exer-
tions ; and, while his present occupation was light and easy,
he could feel that it was indispensable, and that it came now
in regular course, instead of being taken up because he was
unequal to work that was heavier. He expressed this to me
with much satisfaction at Lynn one day after dinner, when he
was near the end of his task ; for, although he felt the fearful
uncertainty of his condition, he did not like to think that he
was in any degree yielding to it. His courage, in this respect,
was absolute. It never faltered.
At Pepperell, where he went on the 25th of September, he
ventured a little further. In 1844 two translations of his
" Conquest of Mexico " had appeared hi Mexico itself, one of
which was rendered more than commonly important by the
comments of Don Jose F. Ramirez at the end of the second
400 WILLIAM HICKLLNG PRESCOTT.
volume, and the other by the notes of Don Lucas Alaman, a
statesman and man of letters of no mean rank, who had long
occupied himself with the history of his country. Mr. Prescott
now busied himself with these materials, as, I think, he had
done before, and prepared a considerable number of additions
and emendations for a future edition of the original work.
" I am now amusing myself," he says, under the date of Sep-
tember 30th, " with making some emendations and additional
notes for a new edition, some day or other, of the ' Conquest
of Mexico.' Two Mexican translations of the work, enriched
with annotations, furnish a pretty good stock of new materials
for the purpose." The amount that he accomplished is con-
siderable, and it will, I hope, be used hereafter, as its author
intended it should be.
But though such labor was light compared with that needful
in the prosecution of his studies for the " History of Philip the
Second," if he had ventured to take them up in earnest, still
little that he did during that summer and autumn was wholly
free from painful effort. I witnessed it more than once while
he was at Lynn, where headaches, though treated as of little
account, yet gave- occasion for grave apprehensions, not the
less grave, because their expression, which could have done
only harm, was carefully forborne by those about him.
His occupations at Pepperell, however, can hardly have in-
jured him. At any rate, he felt that what he had done had
been an amusement rather than anything else ; and when he
left that much-loved region, with its cheerful drives and walks,
and with all the tender associations that rested on it, that
tapestried the rooms of the old house and lighted up the whole
landscape, and its waters, woods, and hills, he made the fol-
lowing simple record :
Pepperell, October 28th. Keturn to town to-morrow. The country
is now in its splendid autumn robe, somewhat torn, however, and draggled
by the rain. Have been occupied with corrections and additions to my
" Mexico." On my return to Boston shall resume my labors on " Philip,"
and, if my health continues as good as it has been this summer, shall
hope to make some progress. But I shall not press matters. Our villeg-
giatura has been brightened by the presence of all the children and grand-
children, God bless them ! And now we scatter again, but not far apart.
These touching words are the last he ever wrote in the
LAST OCCUPATIONS. 401
private Memoranda, which he had now kept above forty years,
and there are no words in the whole mass of above twelve
hundred pages that are more expressive of what was peculiar
to him. His domestic affections were always uppermost in his
character, and never more so than they were in the last weeks
and months of his life ; indeed, I think, never so much and
so manifestly. How he loved his children, all his children,
how he delighted in his grandchildren, how he held them
all " in his heart of heart," those who most knew him, knew
best.
On his return to Boston, he looked stronger than he did when
he left it four months earlier. His spirits were more natural ;
sometimes as bright as they had ever been. He was in better
flesh, and his muscular power was increased, although not
much. But I think he never passed a day without a sense of
the shadow that he knew must always rest on his way of life,
whether it should be long or short.
During the first weeks after his coming to town, he was
occupied with affairs that had accumulated during his absence.
As usual, they somewhat wearied and annoyed him ; perhaps
more than they had on other similar occasions. But he dis-
missed them from his thoughts as soon as he could, and then
he seemed to turn with a sort of irresistible craving to the in^-
tellectual pursuits which long habit and conscientious devotion
to them had made so important to his happiness.
About New Year of 1859, he spoke to me more than once
of a change in his modes of life. He thought, as he told me,
that, if his diet were made more nourishing, his general strength
would be improved, and he should thus become capable of more
labor in all ways, and especially upon his " Philip the Second."
On this, however, he did not venture. His obedience to his
medical director was exact to the last. He restrained himself
rigorously to a vegetable diet, and never took more wine than
was prescribed to him, as if it had been a medicine.
But he could not fully resist the temptation of his old books
and manuscripts ; nor was he altogether discouraged by his wise
professional adviser from making an inconsiderable and wary
experiment with them. Indeed, something of the sort seemed
to have become important for his health as well as for his spir-
z
402 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
its, which were now pining for the aliment that was demanded
alike by his physical and moral constitution. During two or
three weeks, therefore, he was occupied with that portion of
the History of Philip the Second with which his fourth volume
would necessarily open. His researches, no doubt, were not
as laborious as they had sometimes been, when he was busy
with a difficult subject. They were, in fact, entirely prefatory,
involving only the plan of an opening chapter, and the general
mode in which that part of the war of the Netherlands might
be discussed, to which the volume itself was to be largely
devoted. Even in this, I believe, he was careful, and gave
much less time to work than was his wont. But whenever he
thought, he thought intently. He could not help it. It was
a habit which he had cultivated with so much care, that he
could not now shake it off. It is possible, therefore, that his
occupations during these weeks were among the causes that
hastened the final event. But if they were, their influence
must have been small. Nothing gave token of what, from
inscrutable causes, was not only inevitable, but was near.
About a fortnight before his death, he suffered from an ague,
which gave him so much pain, that it entirely interrupted his
accustomed occupations. During the five or six days of its
continuance, I spent the leisure of each afternoon with him.
His strength was a good deal diminished, and he was generally
lying on his sofa when I saw him ; but never was he brighter
or more agreeable, never more cheerful or more interesting.
And so it continued to the end. I saw him only twice or three
times afterwards ; but those who were constantly with him, and
watched every word and movement with affectionate solicitude,
observed no change.
That his intellectual faculties were not affected, and that
his temperament had lost little of its charming gayety, the
letters and memoranda of the year leave no doubt. They
were not, I suppose, always written without effort, but the
effort was successful, which, in general, it would not have
been, and in his case was so in consequence mainly of the
original elements that had been so gently mixed in his whole
nature.
LETTER TO MR. BANCROFT. 403
TO MR. BANCROFT.
BOSTON, February 19 (indorsed 1858).
DEAR BANCROFT,
It is well enough for a man to be ill sometimes, if it is only to show
to him the affectionate sympathy of his friends, though in truth this was
hardly necessary to prove yours. Two weeks since I had a slight touch
of paralysis, which should have fallen on a man of more flesh than I can
boast. It was so slight, however, that the doctor thinks there was no
rupture of any vessel in the brain. The effects of it have passed off,
excepting only some slight damage in that part of the cranium which
holds proper names. I am somewhat reduced, as much perhaps in conse-
quence of the diet I am put upon as the disease ; for meat and generous
wine are proscribed for the present.
So you are to make your bow to the public in May ; and the world, I
have no doubt, as it shows signs of revival, will gladly wake from its
winter's trance to receive you.
That is a charming paragraph which you have sent me, containing a
letter wholly new to me, 2 and I look forward to the hours when I shall
devour the coming volume, the one of greatest interest to me, and not one
least difficult to you.
I hope your wife is in good health. Pray remember me most affection-
ately to her, and believe me
Ever faithfully your friend,
WM. H. PKESCOTT.
TO MR. BANCROFT.
BOSTON, April 3, 1858.
1 am truly obliged to you, my dear Bancroft, for sending me your
account of Bunker Hill battle, in which I am so much interested. 3 I
have read it with the greatest care and with equal pleasure. It was a dif-
ficult story to tell, considering how much it has been disfigured by feelings
of personal rivalry and foolish pretension. In my judgment, you have
steered clear of all these difficulties, and have told the story in a simple
though eloquent style, that cannot fail to win the confidence of your
reader, and satisfy him that you have written with no desire but to tell the
truth, after a careful study of the whole ground.
For the last thirty years or more the friends and kinsmen of the promi-
nent chiefs in the action have been hunting up old Revolutionary surviv-
ors, most of whom had survived their own faculties, and extorting from
them such views as could carry no conviction to a candid mind. My
2 A remarkable letter from Colonel Prescott, the historian's grandfather, to
the Committee of Safety, in Boston, August, 1774. See Bancroft's History,
Vol. VII. (1858,) p. 99. Mr. Bancroft possesses the autograph of this vigor-
ous, patriotic document.
3 At the end of Vol. VII. of Bancroft's History, 1858, sent in the proof-sheet
to Mr. Prescott.
404 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
father took no interest in all this, and made no effort to contradict the
accounts thus given from time to time to the public. He thought, as I
did, that these random statements would make no permanent impression
on the public mind. He waited to see what I, more fortunate than he,
have now lived to see an impartial account given of the action by the
classical pen of the historian, whose writings are destined not merely for
the present age, but for posterity. While you have done entire justice to
my grandfather, you have been scrupulous in giving due praise to Putnam
and Warren, and to the latter in particular you have paid an eloquent
tribute, well deserved, and in your happiest manner.
You are now entering on the most brilliant and fascinating part of your
grand subject, and I hope no political coquetry will have the power to
entice you away in another direction until you have brought it to a com-
pletion. Since my apoplectic thump I have done nothing in the literary
way, giving my wits a good chance to settle and come into their natural
state again. I am rather tired of this kind of loafing, and am now
beginning to fall into the old track, but with caution. As I am on a
vegetable diet, though the doctor has allowed me to mend my cheer with
a little wine, I may hope to be armed against any future attack.
With affectionate remembrances to your wife, believe me, my dear
Bancroft,
Always faithfully your friend,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, April 6, 1858.
MY DEAR LADY LYELL,
Susan, wrote you last week an account of my apoplectic troubles, in
which you take so affectionate an interest. The attack was one wholly
unexpected by me, for I had nothing about me except the headaches of
last year, which looked in that direction. I am not a plethoric, red-
visaged gentleman, with a short neck and a portly paunch " with good
capon lined," seeming to invite the attack of such an enemy. Nor am I
yet turned of seventy, much less of eighty, when he takes advantage of
decayed strength to fall upon his superannuated victim. But the fiend is
no respecter of persons or ages. Yet I must acknowledge he has dealt
rather kindly with me. The blow caused some consternation in my little
circle, by sending my wits a wool-gathering for a few days. But they
have gradually come to order again, and the worst thing that now remains
is the anchoritish fare of pulse and water on which they have put me.
Probably owing to this meagre diet more than to the disease, I have been
somewhat reduced in strength. But as the doctor has now reinforced my
banquet with a couple of glasses of sherry, I look confidently to regain-
ing my former vigor, and gradually resuming my historical labors,
amusements I should say, for the hardest thing to do is to do nothing.
We are made happy now by the return of Amory, who is soon to be fol-
lowed by William and his family, who will make one household with us
this summer at Lynn. It is a pleasant reunion to look forward to after
our long separation
LETTER TO LADY LYELL. 405
MEMOKANDA.
April 18th, 1858. More than five months since the last entry.
During the first three I wrote text and notes of Book VI., Chapters I.
and II., in all eighty-five pages print. On the 4th of February I had a
slight apoplectic shock, which affected both sight and power of motion,
the last but for a few moments.
The attack so unexpected, though I had been troubled with head-
aches through the winter, in a less degree, however, than in the preceding
year caused great alarm to my friends at first. Much reason have I to
be grateful that the effects have gradually disappeared, and left no traces
now, except a slight obscurity in the vision, and a certain degree of
weakness, which may perhaps be imputable to my change of diet. For I
have been obliged to exchange my carnivorous propensities for those of a
more innocent and primitive nature, picking up my fare as our good
parents did before the fall. In this way it is thought I may defy the foul
fiend for the future. But I must not make too heavy or long demands on
the cranium, and if I can get three or four hours' work on my historic
ground in a day, I must be content.
TO ME. PAESONS. 4
BOSTON, April 20, 1858.
DEAR THEOPH.,
I return you the vegetarian treatise, with many thanks. It furnishes a
most important contribution to kitchen literature. From the long time I
have kept it, you might think I have been copying the receipts. I marked
some for the purpose, but soon found them so numerous, that I concluded
to send to London for the book itself. I shall receive a copy in a few
days. I was very sorry to hear that you had wounded yourself with a
priming-knife, and I trust long before this you have got over the effects
of it. This is an accident that cannot befall me. The more 's the pity.
I wish with all my heart I could get up a little horticultural gusto, if it
were only for multiplying and varying the pleasures of life.
God bless you, dear Theoph. Believe me, always affectionately yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, May 31, 1858.
Mr DEAR LADY LYELL,
It was a loving remembrance in you, that of my birthday. It shows
you have a good memory, at least for your friends. Threescore years and
two is a venerable age, and should lead one to put his house in order, es-
4 This note needs a little explanation, and I will give it in the words of the
friend to whom it is addressed. He says : " I had been advised to eat mainly
vegetable food ; and, noticing among the advertisements of London books one
of a vegetarian cookery-book, I ordered it; and, when Prescott told me that
he was strictly limited to a vegetable diet, I sent it to him."
406 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
pecially after such a thump on the cranium as I have" had. I hope I shall
round off threescore years and ten, at least, before I get another. I WHS
greatly cheered the other day by finding in a biographical account of Adam
Ferguson, that, after a severe paralytic shock at fifty, he survived on a
vegetable diet to ninety-three, and wrote books, too, which people still
continue to read. Indeed, it was thought that his vegetable fare served
rather to clarify his wits. It is a very watery diet at any rate, better
suited, I should say, to moral philosophy than to carnivorous history.
Ferguson, however, wrote both.
I suppose in giddy London you don't get time to read much, that is, in
the London season. Have you met with Bancroft's last volume, published
at the beginning of the present month ? It is occupied with a topic very
interesting to us Yankees, and, in the closing chapters, does honor, of
which it has been too long defrauded, to my grandfather, Colonel Pres-
cott's memory. The book is written with spirit, but it is a pity he has
not supported his story by a single note or reference. The reader must
take it all on the writer's word. And yet his original materials are ample.
I suppose you have read Buckle ; indeed, Anna Ticknor told me that
you liked him much. I am sure your husband must relish his acute and
liberal-minded speculations, and especially the intrepidity with which he
enters upon fields of discussion on which English writers are apt to tread
so daintily, not to say timidly. He doubts in the true spirit of a philoso-
pher. And yet he dogmatizes in a style the most opposed to philosophy.
He would make a more agreeable impression if, with his doubts, he would
now and then show a little doubt of himself. But whatever defects of
manner he may have, I suppose few readers will deny that his big volume
is the book of the age.
I dined with the Ticknors last week ; a quiet little meeting of only two
or three guests. Everett, who was there, was in good ti'im. His Wash-
ington address, with its concomitants, has done as much for him as for the
Monument, by building him up. I have not seen him in so good con-
dition for a long while
TO MADAME CALDEKON.
LYNN, September 7, 1858.
MY DEAR MADAME CALDERON,
It is very long since I have exchanged a kindly greeting with you
across the waters, not since your return to Spain. I have kept some
knowledge of your whereabouts, however, but not as much as I could de-
sire, which nobody can give but yourself, where you have been, where
you are now staying, what you are doing. Is my good friend Calderon
still coquetting with politics ? Or is he living at ease, letting the world
go by, like an honest cavalier, as I do ? I hope, at all events, that both
you and he are in good health, and in the enjoyment of all the happiness
that this world can give. You will tell me something about all this when
you write, won't you 1 For myself, I have been very well of late, though,
LETTER TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE. 407
during the last winter, in February, I experienced, what was little ex-
pected, an apoplectic attack. It alarmed my friends a good deal, and
frightened me out of my wits for a time. But the effects have gradually
passed off, leaving me only a slight increase of the obscurity in my vision.
As I don't intend the foul fiend shall return again, I live upon vegetables
and farinaceous matter, like the anchorites of old. For your apoplexy
is a dangerous fellow, who lives upon good cheer, fat and red-faced gentle-
men, who feed upon something better than beets and carrots. I don't
care about the fare, but I should be sorry not to give the last touches to
Philip the Prudent, and to leave him in the world in a dismembered con-
dition ! I am amusing myself now with putting through the press the
third volume. This will make three fifths of the whole work. Five
volumes are as heavy a load as posterity will be willing to take upon its
shoulders ; and I am ambitious enough to consign my wares to posterity.
The book will make its appearance in December, and will give you and
Calderon some winter evenings' readings, if you are not too much ab-
sorbed in the affairs of the public to have time for private matters. I am
just now oceupied with making some notes and corrections for a new
edition of the " Conquest of Mexico." I have particularly good materials
for this in the two Mexican translations of it, one of them having Ala-
man's notes, and the other those of Ramirez. I know very little about
these eminent scholars, though I have somewhere a notice which was sent
me of Alaman, put away so carefully and so long ago that I doubt if I
can lay my hands on it. Could you not give me some little account of
these two worthies, of the offices they hold, their social position, and
general estimation ? Ramirez somewhere remarks that he belongs to the
old Mexican race. This explains the difference of his views on some
points from Alaman's, who has a true love for the " Conquistadores." On
the whole, it is a trial, which few historians have experienced, to be sub-
jected to so severe a criticism, sentence by sentence, of two of the most
eminent scholars of their country. Though they have picked many holes
in my finery, I cannot deny that they have done it in the best spirit and
in the most courtly style
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE.
BOSTON, December 27, 1858.
MY DEAR CARLISLE,
My eye was caught by the sight of your name this morning, as I was
running over the columns of my daily paper, and I read an extract from
a late address of yours at Hull, not so complimentary as I could have
wished to my own country. The tone of remark, differing a good deal
from the usual style of your remarks on us, is, I fear, not undeserved.
The more 's the pity. I send you the extracts, for, as I suppose you in-
tended it for our edification as well as for your own countrymen, I thought
you might be pleased to see that it was quoted here. At any rate, I im-
agine you will be gratified with the candid and liberal style in which it is
received. The Boston " Daily Advertiser " is one of our most respectable
journals, and I may add that the opinions expressed in it perfectly coin-
cide with those of several well-informed persons who have spoken to me
on the matter, and for whose judgment you would entertain respect.
408 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
I am not willing, any more than the editor is, to agree with you in
your desponding views as to the destinies of our country, and I should
mourn for my race if I thought that the grand experiment we are making
of the capacity of men for self-government should prove a failure. We
must not be too hastily judged. We are a young people, and have been
tried by the severest of all trials, uninterrupted prosperity ; a harder trial
than adversity for a nation as well as for an individual. We have many
men of high intelligence as well as sound principle in the country, and,
should exigencies arise to call them into action, I cannot doubt that they
would take the place of the vaporing politicians who have been allowed
too much to direct the affairs of the republic.
I have just come out with a third volume of " Philip the Second," and
I hope ere this you have received a copy which I directed my publisher,
Routledge, to send you at once.
Should he not have done so, you will oblige me much by advertising
me of it, as I wish you to have all my literary bantlings from my own
hand. I have done myself the pleasure also to send a copy to the Duchess
and Lady Mary. I trust that you and yours are all in good health.
This reminds me of a blank in your circle, one dear and revered name,
which I never omitted when I wrote to you. She has gone to a better
world than this. I must thank you for sending me, through Everett, the
miniature photograph of her, surprisingly like, considering the size. Pray
remember me kindly to the Duchess and to Lady Mary, when you see
them. My son and daughter desire their kindest remembrances to you,
with which, believe me, my dear friend, always
Affectionately yours,
WM. H. PKESCOTT.
TO LADY LYELL.
BOSTON, January 10, 1859.
MY DEAR LADY LYELL,
I must not let another packet go without thanking you for the friendly
invitation given by you and your husband to Susan and myself to visit
you this spring ; and although it will not be in our power to accept it, you
will believe that we are not the less grateful to'the loving hearts which dic-
tated it. You, who put a girdle round the earth in as little time almost
as Puck, can have no idea of the way in which we have struck our roots
in the soil, as immovable as the great tree on the Common. As to my
wife, a voyage to the moon would not be more chimerical in her eyes than
a trip (as they pleasantly call it) across the Atlantic. She will die, without
ever having got so far as New York. I do hope, however, that we are not
destined never to meet again, though I think it must be in your husband's
pursuit after science. The book of nature is a big one, and there are
some pages in it on American antiquities which he has not yet read, I
suppose. At all events, I hope we shall meet again in this lower world,
before we get to the land of spirits. We should like to see each other in
the form to which we have been accustomed, not in the guise of a shadow,
or of a nickering flame, as Dante put his loving souls into the Inferno.
Such a meeting would be only of the voice, without even a friendly grasp
LETTER FROM LORD MACAULAY. 409
of the hand, to make the heart beat. It would be like a talk between
friends, after a long absence on the different sides of a partition to divide
them. Yet if we don't meet before long, I don't know, but I should
rather postpone the interview till we have crossed the Styx. But you, I
am told, are reversing the order of nature. I wonder where you got your
recipe for it. Yet the youth of the body is, after all, easier to preserve
than the youth of the soul. I should like a recipe for that. Life is so
stale when one has been looking at it for more than sixty winters ! It
would be a miracle if the blood were not a little chilled. .
FROM MB. IRVING.
SUNNYSIDE, January 12, 1859.
MY DEAR MR. PRESCOTT,
I cannot thank you enough for the third volume of your "Philip,"
which you have had the kindness to send me. It came most opportunely
to occupy and interest me when rather depressed by indisposition. I have
read with great interest your account of the Rebellion of the Moriscoes,
which took me among the Alpuxarras mountains, which I once traversed
with great delight. It is a sad story, the trampling down and expulsion
of that gallant race from the land they won so bravely and cultivated and
adorned with such industry, intelligence, and good taste. You have done
ample justice to your subject.
The battle of Lepanto is- the splendid picture of your work, and has
never been so admirably handled,
I congratulate you on the achievement of the volume, which forms a
fine variety from the other parts of your literary undertakings.
Giving you my best wishes that you may go on and prosper, I remain,
my dear Mr. Prescott,
Yours ever truly and heartily,
WASHINGTON IRVING.
WM. H. PRESCOTT, ESQ.
FROM -LORD MACAULAY. 6
HOLLY LODGE, KENSINGTON, January 8, 1859.
MY DEAR SIR,
I have, already delayed too long to thank you for your third volume
It is excellent, and, I think, superior to anything that you have written,
parts of the " History of the Conquest of Mexico " excepted. Most of
those good judges whose voices I have been able to collect, at this dead
time of the year, agree with me. This is the season when, in this country,
friends interchange good wishes. I do not know whether that fashion has
crossed the Atlantic. Probably not, for your Pilgrim Fathers held it to
be a sin to keep Christmas and Twelfth Day. I hope, however, that you
6 This letter Mr. Prescott never had the pleasure of reading. It arrived a
few days after his death.
18
410 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
will allow me to express my hope that the year which is beginning may
be a happy one to you.
Ever yours truly,
MACAULAY.
WM. H. PRESCOTT, ESQ., &c., &c.
TO SIR CHARLES LYELL.
BOSTON, January 23, 1859.
MY DEAR SIR CHARLES,
I have had the pleasure of receiving your friendly letter of December
31st, and must thank you for another, in which you so kindly invited my
wife and me to visit you in England. Nothing, you may well believe,
could give her and myself greater pleasure than to pass some time under
your hospitable roof, which would afford me the inexpressible satisfaction
of taking some friends again by the hand, whose faces I would give much
to see. But I have long; since abandoned the thought of crossing the great
water, and the friends on the other side of it are, I fear, henceforth to find
a place with me only in the pleasures of memory. And pleasant recollec-
tions they afford to fill many -an hour which the world would call idle, for
there is neither fame nor money to be made out of thein. But one who
has crossed sixty (how near are you to that ominous line?) will have
found out that there is something of more worth than fame or money in
this world. I was last evening with Agassiz, who was in capital spirits at
the prospect of opening to the public a project of a great museum, for
which Frank Gray, as I suppose you know, left an appropriation of fifty
thousand dollars. There will be a subscription set on foot, I understand,
for raising a similar sum to provide a suitable building for the collection,
a great part of which has already been formed by Agassiz himself,
and the Governor, at a meeting of the friends of the scheme held the
other evening at James Lawrence's, gave the most cordial assurances of
substantial aid from the State. Agassiz expressed the greatest confidence
to me of being able in a few years to establish an institution, which would
not shrink from comparison with similar establishments in Europe. He
has been suffering of late from inflammation, of the eyes, a. trouble to
which he is unaccustomed, but for which he may thank his own impru-
dence. I am glad to learn that you are pursuing, with your usual energy,
your studies on jEtna. The subject is one of the greatest interest. I
must congratulate you on the reception of the Copley medal. However
we may despise, or affect to despise, the vulgar volitare per ora, if is a sat-
isfaction to find one's labors appreciated by the few who are competent to
pronounce on their value.
Good by, my dear Lyell. With kindest remembrances to your wife,
believe me always faithfully yours,
WM. H. PRESCOTT.
This is the latest letter from my friend that has come to
my knowledge. Notes he continued to write afterwards. I
received several such down to within two or three days of his
LAST PLEASURES. 411
death, and others, I doubt not, were sent to other persons in
kindness or on business at the same period. In this and in all
respects, he went on as usual. He seemed to himself to grow
better and better, and was even in a condition to enjoy some of
the pleasures of society. We had occasionally dined at each
other's houses from the preceding spring, as he has noticed in
his letters to Lady Lyell, already inserted ; and, less than a
week before his death, I was to have met a small party of
friends at his own table. But a family affliction prevented his
hospitality, and I was afterwards glad, as I well might be, that
the dinner did not take place. Not that he would have failed
in abstinence ; but he was less strong than he believed himself
to be, and less than we all hoped he was, so that the fatal blow
then impending might, by the excitement of merely social in-
tercourse, have fallen sooner than it otherwise would, or, at
least, we might afterwards have believed that it had.
CHAPTER XXIX.
1859.
ANXIETY TO RETURN TO SERIOUS WORK. PLEASANT FORENOON. SUD-
DEN ATTACK OF APOPLEXY. DEATH. His WISHES RESPECTING HIS
REMAINS. FUNERAL. EXPRESSIONS OF SORROW ON BOTH SIDES OF
THE ATLANTIC.
FROM day to day, after New Year of 1859, he seemed
more to miss his old occupations. On the 27th of Jan-
uary, he talked decidedly of beginning again to work in good
earnest on the " History of Philip the Second," and speculated
on the question whether, if he should find his physical strength
unequal to the needful exertion, he might venture to reinforce
it by a freer diet. On the following morning the fatal day
he talked of it again, as if his mind were made up to the
experiment, and as if he were looking forward to his task as to
the opening again of an old and sure mine of content. His
sister, Mrs. Dexter, was happily in town making him a visit,
and was sitting that forenoon with Mrs. Prescott in a dressing-
room, not far from the study where his regular work was
always done. He himself, in the early part of the day, was
unoccupied, walking about his room for a little exercise ; the
weather being so bad that none ventured out who could well
avoid it. Mr. Kirk, his ever-faithful secretary, was looking
over Sala's lively book about Russia, " A Journey due North,"
for his own amusement merely, but occasionally reading aloud
to Mr. Prescott such portions as he thought peculiarly interest-
ing or pleasant. On one passage, which referred to a former
Minister of Russia at Washington, he paused, because neither
of them could recollect the name of the person alluded to ; and
Mr. Prescott, who did not like to find his memory at fault,
went to his wife and sister to see if either of them could recall
it for him. After a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Prescott hit
HIS DEATH. 413
upon it ; a circumstance which amused him not a little, as she
so rarely took an interest in anything connected with public
affairs, that he had rather counted upon Mrs. Dexter for the
information. He snapped his fingers at her, therefore, as he
turned away, and, with the merry laugh so characteristic of
his nature, passed out of the room, saying, as he went, '' How
came you to remember ? " They were the last words she ever
heard from his loved lips.
After reaching his study, he stepped into an adjoining apart-
ment. While there, Mr. Kirk heard him groan, and, hurrying
to him, found him struck with apoplexy and wholly unconscious.
This was about half past eleven o'clock in the forenoon. He
was instantly carried to his chamber. In the shortest possible
space of time, several medical attendants were at his bedside,
and among them and the chief of them was his old friend
and his father's friend, Dr. Jackson. One of their number,
Dr. Minot, brought me the sad intelligence, adding his own
auguries, which were of the worst. I hastened to the house.
What grief and dismay I found there, needs not to be told.
All saw that the inevitable hour was come. Remedies availed
nothing. He never spoke again, never recovered an instant
of consciousness, and at half past two o'clock life passed away
without suffering.
He would himself have preferred such a death, if choice had
been permitted to him. He had often said so to me and to
others ; and none will gainsay, that it was a great happiness
thus to die, surrounded by all those nearest and dearest to him,
except one much-loved son, who was at a distance, and to die,
too, with unimpaired faculties, and with affections not only as
fresh and true as they had ever been, but which, in his own
home and in the innermost circle of his friends, had seemed to
grow stronger and more tender to the last.
Four days afterwards he was buried ; two wishes, however,
having first been fulfilled, as he had earnestly desired that they
should be. They related wholly to himself, and were as simple
and unpretending as he was.
From accidental circumstances, he had always entertained a
peculiar dread of being buried alive ; and he had, therefore,
often required that measures should be taken to prevent all
I
414 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
possibility of the horrors that might follow such an occurrence.
His injunctions were obeyed. Of his absolute death it was
not, indeed, permitted to doubt. It had occurred under cir-
cumstances which had been distinctly foreseen, and by a blow
only too obvious, sure, and terrible. But still, as had been
promised to him, a principal vein was severed, so that, if life
should again be awakened, it might ebb silently away without
any possible return of consciousness.
His other request was no less natural and characteristic.
He desired that his remains, before they should be deposited
in the house appointed for all living, might rest, for a time, in
the cherished room where were gathered the intellectual treas-
ures amidst which he had found so much of the happiness of
his life. And this wish, too, was fulfilled. Silently, noiseless-
ly, he was carried there. Few witnessed the solemn scene, but
on those who did, it made an impression not to be forgotten.
There he lay, in that rich, fair room, his manly form neither
shrunk nor wasted by disease ; the features that had expressed
and inspired so much love still hardly touched by the effacing
fingers of death, there he lay, in unmoved, inaccessible peace ;
and the lettered dead of all ages and climes and countries col-
lected there seemed to look down upon him in their earthly
and passionless immortality, and claim that his name should
hereafter be imperishably associated with theirs.
But this was only for a season. At the appointed hour
his family, and none else, following he was borne to the
church where he was wont to worship. No ceremonies had
been arranged for the occasion. There had been no invita-
tions. There was no show. But the church was full, was
crowded. The Representatives of the Commonwealth, then in
session, had adjourned so as to be present ; the members of the
Historical Society, whose honored wish to take official charge
of the duties of the occasion had been declined, were there as
mourners. The whole community was moved ; the poor whom
he had befriended ; the men of letters with whom he had been
associated or whom he had aided ; the elevated by place or
by fortune, whose distinctions and happiness he had increased-
by sharing them ; they were all there. It was a sorrowful
gathering, such as was never before witnessed in this land for
HIS FUNERAL. 415
the obsequies of any man of letters wholly unconnected, as he
had been, with public affairs and the parties or passions of the
time ; one who was known to most of the crowd collected
around his bier only by the silent teachings of his printed
works. For, of the multitude assembled, few could have
known him personally ; many of them had never seen him.
But all came to mourn. All felt that an honor had been
taken from the community and the country. They came be-
cause they felt the loss they had sustained, and only for that.
And after the simple and solemn religious rites befitting the
occasion had been performed, 1 they still crowded round the
funeral train and through the streets, following, with sadness
and awe, the hearse that was bearing from their sight all that
remained of one who had been watched not a week before as
he trod the same streets in apparent happiness and health. It
was a grand and touching tribute to intellectual eminence and
personal worth.
He was buried with his father and mother, and with the
little daughter he had so tenderly loved, in the family tomb
under St. Paul's Church ; and, as he was laid down beside
them, the audible sobs of the friends who filled that gloomy
crypt bore witness to their love for his generous and sweet
nature, even more than to their admiration for his literary
distinctions, or to their sense of the honor he had conferred
on his country.
Other expressions of the general feeling followed. The
Massachusetts Historical Society ; the Historical Societies of
New York, of Pennsylvania, of Maryland, and of Illinois ;
the American Academy of Arts and Sciences ; the American
Antiquarian Society ; the New England Genealogical Society ;
the Essex Institute, meeting on the spot where he was born ;
and the Boston Athenaeum and Harvard College, with which,
from his youth, he had been much connected, each bore
its especial and appropriate part in the common mourning.
The multitudinous periodicals and newspapers of the country
were filled with it, and the same 'tone was soon afterwards
heard fron? no small portion of what is most eminent for
i By Mr. Prescott's clergyman, the Rev. RufUs Ellis, pastor of the First
Congregational Church in Boston.
416 WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.
intellectual cultivation in Europe. There was no division of
opinion. There was no dissentient, no hesitating voice, on
either side of the Atlantic. All sorrowfully felt that a great
loss had been sustained ; that a brilliant and beneficent light
had been extinguished.
APPENDIX.
18* AA
APPENDIX A.
THE PKESCOTT FAMILY.
(See p. 1.)
THE Prescott family belong to the original Puritan stock and blood
of New England. They came from Lancashire, and about 1640,
twenty years only after the first settlement at Plymouth and ten years after
that of Boston, were established in Middlesex County, Massachusetts,
where not a few of the honored race still remain.
Like most of the earlier emigrants, who left their native homes from
conscientious motives, they were men of strongly marked characters, but
of small estates, and devoted to mechanical and agricultural pursuits,
circumstances which fitted them as nothing else could so well have done
for the trials and labors incident to their settlement in this Western wilder-
ness. But, even among men like these, the Prescotts were distinguished
from the first. They enjoyed, to an uncommon degree, the respect of the
community which they helped to found, and became at once more or less
concerned in the management of the entire Colony of Massachusetts, when
those who took part in its affairs bore heavy burdens and led anxious
lives.
John, the first emigrant, was a large, able-bodied man, who, after -living
some time in Watertown, established himself in Lancaster, then on the
frontiers of civilization. There he acquired a good estate and defended it
bravely from the incursions of the Indians, to whom he made himself
formidable by occasionally appearing before them in a helmet and cuirass,
which he had brought with him from England, where he was said to have
served under Cromwell. His death is placed in 1683.
Of him are recorded by Mr. William Prescott, father of the historian,
the following traditionary anecdotes, given him by Dr. Oliver Prescott,
which may serve, at least, to mark the condition of the times when he
lived.
" He brought over," says Mr. Prescott, " a coat of mail-armor and
habiliments, such as were used by field-officers of that time. An aged
lady informed Mr. Oliver Prescott 1 that she had seen him dressed in this
armor. Lancaster (where Mr. Prescott established himself) was a frontier
town, much exposed to the incursions of the Indians. John was a sturdy,
strong man, with a stern countenance, and, whenever he had a difficulty
with the Indians, clothed himself with his coat of armor, helmet, cuirass,
and gorget, which gave him a fierce and frightful appearance. It is
* Born in 1731, and died in 1804.
420 APPENDIX.
related, that when, on one occasion, they stole a valuable horse from him,
he put on his armor and pursued them, and after some time overtook the
party that had his horse. They were surprised to see him alone, and one
of the chiefs approached him with his tomahawk uplifted. John told him
to strike, which he did, and, finding the blow made no impression on his
cap, he was astonished, and asked John to let him put it on, and then to
strike on his head, as he had done on John's. The helmet was too small
for the Indian's head, and the weight of the blow settled it down to his
ears, scraping off the skin on both sides. They gave him his horse, and
let him go, thinking him a supernatural being.
" At another time the Indians set fire to his barn. Old John put on
his armor and rushed out upon them. They retreated before him, and he
let his horses and cattle out of the burning stable. At another time they
set fire to his saw-mill. The old man armed cap-a-pied, went out, drove
them off, and extinguished the fire."
Jonas, a son of the first emigrant, was born in 1648, and died in 172,3,
seventy-five years old. He lived in Groton. He was a captain of the
yeomanry militia, at a time when the neighborhood of the savages made
such a post important to the safety of the country ; and he was a justice
of the peace when that office, also, implied a degree of consideration and
authority now unknown to it.
Benjamin, one of the sons of Jonas, was born January 4, 1695 - 6. He
represented his native town many years in the General Court of the Colony,
was a colonel in the militia of his own county, and of the adjoining
county of Worcester, and in the year before his death, which occurred in
1738, was delegated to the important service of defending the territorial
rights of Massachusetts against the claims of New Hampshire, before a
royal commission appointed to adjudge the case. 2
Benjamin had three sons, each of whom distinguished himself in the
line of life he had chosen.
The eldest, James, remained on the family estate at home, and culti-
vated and managed it. He passed through all the degrees of military rank,
from that of an ensign to that of colonel. He represented Groton, for a
long period, in the General Court, and was afterwards in the Colonial
Governor's Council. At the outbreak of the Revolution, taking the poprf-
lar side, he became a member of the Provincial Congress and of the Board
of War, and, after the peace of 1783, was successively sheriff of the county
and Judge of the Court of Common Pleas. He died, more than seventy-
nine years old, in 1800, at Groton, where the family had then been settled
above a century.
Oliver, the youngest son of Benjamin, was born in 1731. He was grad-
uated at Harvard College in 1750, and became subsequently an eminent
physician in Groton and its neighborhood. But, like others of his family,
he turned to public affairs, both military and civil. In 1777, and for sev-
eral years afterwards, he was of the Governor's Council, and in 1778 he
became one of the major-generals in the service of the Commonwealth. A
2 This has sometimes been otherwise stated, but the record leaves no doubt
upon the matter. See Journal of the House of Representatives, August 12th,
and October 13th, 1737.
THE PBESCOTT FAMILY. 421
severe illness in 1781 somewhat impaired his activity, and the same year
he was appointed Judge of Probate for his native county of Middlesex, an
office which he held, to the great acceptance of all, till his death. He,
however, never ceased to be interested in his original profession, and, be-
sides other marks of distinction for his medical knowledge, he received in
1791 the degree of Doctor in Medicine, honoris causa, from Harvard Col-
lege. He died in 1804, leaving several sons, the eldest of whom, Oliver,
delivered an address before the Massachusetts Medical Society in 1813, on
the Secale cornutum or ergot, which was found so important in relation to
the use of that remedy, that, besides being reprinted in this country and in
London, it was translated into French and German, and inserted in the
thirteenth volume of the Dictionnaire des Sciences Me'dicales. He died at
Newburyport in 1827.
William, the second son of Benjamin, and grandfather of the historian,
was of a more bold and enterprising nature than his brother James, and
has left a name which will not be forgotten. He was born in Groton on
the 20th of February, 1726; but, in a spirit of adventure common through-
out New England at that period, and not yet unknown, he preferred to
remove farther into the land and establish himself in the primeval forest.
This he did, before he was of age. But it was not necessary for him to
go far. He removed only a few miles, and afterwards, when he had served
as a soldier, caused the land on a part of which he had settled to be made
a township, naming it after Sir William Pepperell, who had just then so
much distinguished himself by the capture of Louisbourg. Pepperell is in
the upper part of the county of Middlesex, just on the line of the State,
and next to the town of Hollis, which is in New Hampshire. There, not
above a mile from the border, he always lived, or at least he always had
his only home there, holding his estate, as his great-grandSon continues
to hold it still in 1862, under the original Indian title. The Indians, in-
deed, long continued to be his near neighbors ; so near, that there were
periods of anxiety, during which those who went to the field with the
plough did not feel safe unless their rifles stood leaning against the neigh-
boring trees.
This was a rude training, no doubt ; and living, as he did, among the
savages, an unmarried man, it seems early to have given him soldierlike
habits and tastes. At any rate, when he was twenty-seven years old, he
was a lieutenant in the militia, and at twenty-nine, in the true spirit of ad-
venture, entered, with the same rank, the regular service in the Colonial
troops sent to remove the French from Nova Scotia. This was in 1755.
But the service was a short, and not an agreeable one. On his return
home, therefore, he left the army, and married Abigail Hale, a descendant,
like himself, of the original Puritan stock of the country. It was a for-
tunate connection for the young soldier, who now seemed to have settled
down on his farm for a peaceful and happy life, retaining only so much
of his military tastes as was implied by accepting the command of the
yeomanry of his neighborhood.
But troublesome times soon followed, and a spirit like his was sure to
be stirred by them. This he early permitted to be seen and known. In
August, 1774, he counselled his assembled townsmen to stand by the men
of Boston in their resistance to the unjust and unconstitutional claims of
422 APPENDIX.
the royal authority, and embodied their thoughts and purposes in a fervent
letter which is still extant. " Be not dismayed," he said, " nor disheartened
in this day of great trials. We heartily sympathize with you, and are
always ready to do all in our power for your support, comfort, and relief,
knowing that Providence has placed you where you must stand the first
shock. We consider, we are all embarked in one bottom, and must sink
or swim together." 3 Soon afterwards, in 1775, being recognized as a
good soldier, who in Nova Scotia had become familiar with the discipline
of a camp, and being, besides, no less known for his political firmness, he
was made colonel of a regiment of minute-men, who, as their name im-
plies, were to be ready at a moment's warning for any revolutionary
emergency. It was a duty he loved, and it was not long before his
courage and firmness were put to the test. 4
On the 19th of April, 1775, within an hour after the news reached him
of the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord, he hurried to Groton, and,
collecting as many of his men as he could muster, and leaving orders for
the rest to follow, marched to Cambridge, hoping to overtake the British
troops, then in full retreat towards Boston. This, however, was impossi-
ble. But a force, full of the active and devoted spirit of the time, was
rapidly collected at Cambridge, under the command of General Artemas
Ward. By his orders, Colonel Prescott was despatched on the evening
of June the 16th, with about a thousand men, to Charlestown, where, in
the course of the night, he threw up a redoubt on Bunker's Hill, or to
speak more accurately on Breed's Hill, and fought there, the next day,
the first real battle of the Revolution, manfully putting in peril that reputa-
tion, which, to a soldier, is dearer than life, and which, if the cause he
then espoused had failed, would have left his own name and that of his
descendants blackened with the charge of rebellion. But things did not
3 Bancroft's " History of the United States," Vol. VII. (Boston 1858), p. 99.
This is the document already alluded to, (ante, p. 403, note,) as sent by Mr.
Bancroft to Mr. Prescott the historian.
4 Two circumstances in relation to this commission are worth notice. The
first is, that, with a disregard to exactness not uncommon in times of great
peril, the month and day of the month when the commission was issued are
not given. The other is, that the President of " the Congress of the Colony
of the Massachusetts Bay " who signed it is General Joseph Warren, who fel\
a few days later on Bunker Hill ; and the justice of the peace before whom,
on the 26th of May, 1775, Colonel Prescott took the oath of allegiance, was
Samuel Dexter, one of the leading men of the Colony, the grandfather of
Mr. Franklin Dexter, who, nearly half a century later, married a grand-
daughter of the same Colonel Prescott, a man of severe integrity, and of
an original, strong, uncompromising character, who, during the short period
in which his health allowed him to occupy himself with political affairs, ex-
ercised no small influence in the troubled commonwealth. A notice of him,
by his son, the eminent lawyer, who died in 1816, may be found in the
" Monthly Anthology " for 1810. Mr. Dexter, the elder, was the founder of
the Dexter Lectureship of Biblical Literature in Harvard College. At the
time when he signed the commission of Colonel Prescott, he was a member
of the Provincial Congress. Colonel Prescott, it should be noted, served as
colonel before he took the oath, namely, as early as the month of April.
THE PBESCOTT FAMILY. 423
so turn out. He was, indeed, defeated, mainly for want of ammu
nition, and driven from the hill, which he was among the last to leave.
A brave resistance, however, had been made, and the defeat had many of
the results of a victory. When Washington heard of it, he exclaimed,
" The liberties of the country are safe"; 6 and Franklin wrote, " England
has lost her Colonies forever." 8
Colonel Prescott continued in the army until the end of 1776, 7 when, on
the retirement of the American troops from Long Island, the excellent man-
ner in which he brought off his regiment was publicly commended by Gen-
eral Washington. But from this period until his death, except during the
autumn of 1777, when, as a volunteer with a few of his former brother-offi-
cers, he assisted in the capture of Burgoyne at Saratoga, he resided on his
farm in Pepperell. He did not, however, withdraw himself entirely from
public affairs. He served as a Representative in the Legislature of Massa-
chusetts, and when the formidable insurrection known as " Shays's Rebel-
lion" broke out in his own county of Middlesex, he hastened to Concord
and assisted in protecting the courts of justice, and in preserving law and
order. He died on the 13th of October, 1795, and was buried with the
military honors becoming his life and character. His widow, an admirable
person, full of gentleness and dignity, survived him many years, and died
in 1821, at the advanced age of eighty-eight.
They had but one child, William, who was born on his father's farm,
August the 19th, 1762, and lived there, in great simplicity, until 1776.
His early education was entirely due to his mother, for whom he always
felt a deep reverence, and of whom, late in his own life, he said : " She
was more remarkable, than any one I have ever known, for her power of
governing children and young people, and that without any austerity in
her manner. They all respected, loved, and obeyed her. Her kindness
won their hearts. I feel that I am indebted to her wise and affectionate
government and guidance of my childhood and youth, her daily coun-
sels and instructions, for whatever character and success I may have
had in life." Considering what Mr. Prescott had become when he wrote
these words, a more beautiful tribute could hardly have been paid to
womanly tenderness and wisdom.
But, at the age of fourteen, he was placed under the instruction of
" Master Moody/' of Dummer Academy, in Essex County, then known
as the best teacher of Latin and Greek in New England, and what was
of no less consequence to his pupils wholly devoted to his duties, which
he loved passionately. Nearly three years of careful training under such
an instructor almost changed the boy to a man, and four years more at
Harvard College, where he was graduated in 1783, completed the trans-
formation.
But as he approached manhood, he felt the responsibilities of life
6 Irving's " Life of Washington" (1865). Vol. I. p. 488.
The last words of Vol. VII. of Bancroft's " History of the United States "
(1858).
7 His commission in the army of " The United Colonies," signed by John
Hancock, President, and Charles Thomson, Secretary, is dated January 1,
1776, and constitutes him Colonel of the " Seventh Regiment of Foot"
424 APPENDIX.
already crowding upon him. The first of these, and probably the one that
pressed heaviest upon his thoughts, was the idea that, for the seven preced-
ing years, he had been a burden upon the small means of his father, when
he might rather have been a relief. This state of things he determined at
once should no longer continue, and, from that moment, he never received
any pecuniary assistance from his family. On the contrary, after the
death of his father, whose life, like that of most military men of his time,
had been one of generous hospitality, rather than of thrift, he assumed
the debts with which the estate had become encumbered, and, for above a
quarter of a century, made the most ample and affectionate arrangements
for the support of his much-loved mother, who thus died in peace and hap-
piness on the spot whese she had lived above sixty years.
His earliest resource, when he began the world for himself, was one
then common among us, and still not very rare, for young men who have
left college without the means necessary to continue their education
further. He became a teacher. At first, it was for a few months only, in
Brooklyn, Connecticut ; but afterwards for two years in Beverly, Massa-
chusetts. Here he lived very happily in a cultivated society, and here he
studied his profession under Mr. Dane, a learned jurist and statesman,
who afterwards founded the Law Professorship in Harvard College that
bears his name. During this period Mr. Prescott received an invitation
to become a member of General Washington's household, where, while
pursuing his legal studies, he would have acted as the private tutor of a
youthful member of the family, to whom its great head was much
attached. But the young law-student declined the offer, in consequence
of his previous engagements, and his college classmate, Lear, took the
coveted place.
Mr. Prescott began the practice of his profession in Beverly ; but, at
the end of two years, in 1789, finding the field there not wide enough for
his purposes, he removed to the adjacent town of Salem, the shire town
of the county, and the seat of much prosperous activity. His success,
from the first, was marked and honorable, and it continued such so long
as he remained there. During a part of the time, he entered a little, but
only a little, into political life, serving successively as a Representative of
Salem and as a Senator for the county of Essex in the Legislature of the
State. But, although he took no selfish interest in the success of any
party, he maintained then, as he did till his death, the opinions of the
Federalists, who received their name from an early and faithful support
of the Federal Constitution, and who subsequently devoted themselves to
sustaining the policy and measures of Washington during his civil admin-
istration of the affairs of the country. In truth, however, while Mr.
Prescott lived in Salem, he gave himself up almost exclusively to his
profession, in which his talents, his integrity, and his industry gained for
him so high a rank, that, as early as 1806, he was offered a seat on the
bench of the Supreme Court of the Commonwealth; an offer repeated
with much urgency in 1813, but one which, on both occasions, he de-
clined, partly from the state of his family, but chiefly from considerations
connected with his health. His refusal occasioned no little regret ; for it
was a place to which he was admirably adapted by the judicial character
of his mind, by his moral courage, and by a singular power he had of
THE PRESCOTT FAMILY. 425
holding any subject under advisement until the last moment, and then
deciding it as promptly and firmly as if he had never hesitated.
But from 1803, when he ruptured a blood-vessel in his lungs, and was
compelled, in consequence, to give up all severe occupation for many
months, he was never an active or vigorous man. To relieve himself,
therefore, from a kind of business which was quite as onerous as it was
profitable, and which made his life in Salem more burdensome than he
could well bear, he determined, in 1808, to remove to Boston. He did
so, however, with reluctance. He had many kind friends in Salem, to
whom he and his family were sincerely attached. He had passed there
nineteen years of great professional usefulness, enjoying the respect of a
very intelligent and thriving community. He had been happy much
beyond the common lot, and he was by no means without misgivings at
the thought of a change so important and decisive.
His removal, however, proved fortunate beyond his hopes. His pro-
fessional business in Boston, while it was less oppressive than his business
in Salem had been, insured him immediately an increased and ample
income. Into public affairs he entered little, and only so far as his duty
plainly required ; for political life was never agreeable to him, and, besides
this, it interfered with his professional labors and the domestic repose he
always loved and needed. But from 1809 he served for a few years in
the Council of the Commonwealth, under Governor Gore and Governor
Strong, and enjoyed all the confidence of those eminent and faithful mag-
istrates, as they enjoyed all his. In 1814 he was elected, by the Legisla-
ture of Massachusetts, to be one of the delegates to the Convention
which, in that year, met at Hartford, in Connecticut, to consider the con-
dition of the New England States, exposed and neglected as they were
by the general government, during the war then carrying on against
Great Britain. It was inconvenient and disagreeable to him to accept
the office. But he had no doubt that he ought to do it. Nor did he ever
afterwards regret it, or fail to do justice to the honorable and high-minded
men who were associated with him in its duties.
He went to that remarkable Convention, fearing, unquestionably, from
the great excitement which then prevailed throughout New England on
the subject of the war, that rash measures, tending to affect the integrity
of the Union, might be suggested. But he was present through the
whole session, and found his apprehensions entirely groundless. " No such
measure," he said, " was ever proposed in the Convention, nor was there,"
in his opinion deliberately recorded long afterwards, " a member of that
body who would have consented to any act, which, in his judgment,
would have tended directly or indirectly to destroy or impair the union
of the States." If there was ever a man loyal to the constitution and
laws under which he lived, it was Mr. Prescott ; nor did he deem any one
of his associates at Hartford, in this respect, less faithful than himself.
In 1818 he was appointed Judge of the Court of Common Pleas for
the City of Boston, and accepted the office, thinking to hold it so as to
facilitate his retirement from the practice of his profession. But he found
it more laborious and engrossing than he had anticipated, and resigned it
at the end of a year.
In 1820-21 he served as a delegate from the city of Boston to the
426 APPENDIX.
Convention for revising the Constitution of the Commonwealth of Massa-
chusetts, and, on its first organization, was made chairman of the com-
mittee charged with the most difficult and perplexing subject that was
submitted to that body for discussion and decision, the representation
of the people in their own government. It was not an enviable post ; but,
by his wisdom and moderation, by an energy and a firmness that were still
always conciliating, and by a power of persuasion that rested on truth, he
at last led the Convention to a decision, although, at one critical moment,
it had seemed impossible to decide anything. The members of that body,
therefore, as distinguished for talent and for personal character as any that
was ever assembled in Massachusetts, always felt even those who had
differed from him that they and the Commonwealth were under lasting
obligations to his wisdom and integrity.
He continued at the bar until 1828, making in all above forty years of
service to the law. During more than half of that time his practice was
as extensive, as honorable, and as successful as that of any member of the
profession in the State, which, while he belonged to it, numbered in its
ranks such men as Sullivan, Parsons, Dexter, Otis, and Webster, all of
whom, except the last, ceased to be members of the bar before he did.
During the whole of his professional life he enjoyed, in an eminent degree,
the kindly regard and sincere respect of his brethren, and of the different
members of the courts before which he was called to practice, no one of
whom ever, for a moment, imagined that any spot had fallen on the abso-
lute purity and integrity of his character. Of his distinction as a jurist
there was as little doubt. Mr. Daniel Webster, when, with much sensi-
bility, he announced Mr. Prescfttt's death to the Supreme Court, then in
session at Boston, well said of him, that " at the moment of his retire-
ment from the bar of Massachusetts he stood at its head for legal learning
and attainments."
The last sixteen years of his life were spent in the quietness of his
home, where his original nature, disencumbered of the cares that had op-
pressed him during a very busy life, seemed to come forth with the fresh-
ness of youth. He read a great deal, especially on subjects connected
with religion, ethics, metaphysics, and history, all of them sciences of
which he never tired. Agriculture, too, the occupation of some of his
earlier days, had great charms for him ; and he showed no little skill in
cultivating the estate on which he was born, and where, during much of
his life, and especially the latter part of it, he spent a happy portion
of each year. But whether in the city, or at Pepperell, or on the sea-
shore at Nahant, where, during many seasons, he passed the hottest weeks
of our hot summers, he loved to be surrounded by his family, his chil-
dren and his grandchildren ; and with them and among his private friends,
he found in his declining years what, in the intervals of leisure during his
whole life, he had most enjoyed and valued.
It was in this happy retirement that there broke in upon him the light
which so gilded the mild evening of his days, the success of his son as
an historian, shedding new distinction on a name already dear to his-
country, and carrying that name far beyond the limits of the language
spoken by all who had borne it before him. Mr. Prescott in the inner-
most circle of his friends never disguised the happiness his son's reputation
THE PRESCOTT FAMILY. 427
gave him, although certainly, from the instinctive modesty of his nature,
nothing could be more graceful than the way in which he expressed it.
But there is an end to everything earthly. In the autumn of 1843,
while at his old home in Pepperell, 8 he had a slight attack of paralysis.
He recovered from it, however, easily, and, except to the ever-watchful
eyes of affection, seemed fully restored to his wonted health. But he him-
self understood the warning, and lived, though cheerfully and with much
enjoyment of life, yet as one who never forgot that his time must be short,
and that his summons could hardly fail to be sudden. In the last days of
November, 1 844, he felt himself slightly incommoded, not, as before, in
the head, but in the region of the heart. As late, however, as the evening
before his death, no change was noticed in his appearance when he retired
to bed, nor is it probable that, after a night of his usual comfortable rest,
he noticed any change in himself when he rose the next morning. At
any rate he went, as was his custom, quietly and directly to his library.
But he had hardly reached it, when he perceived that the messenger of *
death was at his side. He therefore desired the faithful attendant, who
had for many years been attached to his person, not to leave him, and a
few moments afterwards, surrounded by the family he so much loved, in
the full possession of his faculties, and with a peaceful trust in his Maker
and in the blessedness of a future life, he expired without a struggle. It
was Sunday, December the 8th, 1844, and on the following Wednesday
he was buried in the crypt of St. Paul's Church.
While he was a -young lawyer in Salem, Mr. Prescott was married,
December 18th, 1793, to Catherine Greene Hickling, daughter o Thomas
Hickling, Esq., earlier a merchant of Boston, but then, and subsequently
until his death at the age of ninety-one, Consul of the United States in
the island of St. Michael. It was a connection full of blessing to him.
and to his house during the fifty-one years that it pleased God to permit
it to be continued. Few women have done more to relieve their husbands
from the cares of life, and to bear for them even a disproportionate share
of its burdens. Still fewer have, at the same time, made their influence
felt abroad through society, as she did. But she was full of energy and
activity, of health, cheerfulness, and the love of doing good. Probably
no woman, in the position she occupied among us, ever gave her thoughts,
her conversation, and her life in so remarkable a degree to the welfare of
others. When, therefore, she died, May 17th, 1852, nearly eighty-live
years old, it is not too much to say that her death was mourned as a
public loss. 9
Mr. and Mrs. Prescott had seven children, all of whom were born to
them in Salem, between 1795 and 1806, but four died without reaching
the age of a single year. t
Of the other three the eldest was the historian.
The next was Catherine Elizabeth, who still survives (1862). She was
born November 12th, 1799, and was married September 28th, 1819, to
Franklin Dexter, son of Samuel Dexter, the eminent lawyer and states-
man. Mr. Franklin Dexter was born in 1793, and, after a careful aca-
demical and professional education, and a visit to the most interesting and
8 See ante, p. 190. 9 See ante, p. 358.
428 APPENDIX.
cultivated portions of Europe, established himself as a lawyer in Boston.
He rose early to distinction at the bar, and by his courage, his quickness
of perception, his acute and manly logic, and an intellectual grasp which
the strongest could not escape, he vindicated for himself a place in the
front rank of a company of eminent men, such as New England had
never before seen collected. But his tastes and his preferences led him
into paths widely different from theirs. His mind turned instinctively to
what was refined and beautiful. He loved letters more than law, and art
more than letters ; so that, perhaps without deliberately intending it, he
always sought much of his happiness in both, and found it. When,
therefore, he had reached an age at which, with a constitution of only
moderate vigor, repose became desirable, and had obtained a fortune equal
to the wants of one who never over-estimated the worth of what the world
most desires, he gave himself more and more to the happiness of domestic
life and to the pursuit of art, towards which, from an early period, he had
and perhaps rightly thought his genius more inclined than to any
other. But life was not long protracted. He died in 1857, leaving be-
hind him in the minds of his contemporaries a persuasion, that, if his
severe taste in what related even to his favorite pursuits, and the fastidious
acuteness with which he looked quite through the ways of men, and de-
tected the low motives which often lead to power, had not checked him in
mid-career, he might have risen to an eminence where he would have left
behind him not a few of the rivals to whom, during the active years of his
life, he had willingly yielded the honors of success.
The only brother of the historian who lived beyond infancy was Ed-
ward Goldsborough, who was born at Salem, January 2d, 1804. At a suit-
able age, after the removal of his father to Boston, he was sent to the
same school in which his elder brother had laid the foundation for his dis-
tinction. But his tendencies were not then towards intellectual culture,
and, at his own earnest desire, he was placed in a counting-house, that he
might devote himself to mercantile pursuits. A taste for letters was, how-
ever, somewhat to his own surprise, awakened in him a little later ; 4pd,
with sudden but earnest efforts to recover the time that had been lost, he
succeeded in obtaining a degree at Harvard College in 1825. Subse-
quently, he studied law with his father, under the most favorable circum-
stances; and after 1828, when he began the practice of his profession, he
not only took his fair share of the business of the time, but, as so many
of his family before him had done, he served the Commonwealth both in
its Legislature and in its military organization, rising to the rank of colo-
nel in the militia. This seemed for a time to satisfy a nature too eager
for excitement and distinction. But after seven years of great activity, a
change came over him. He was grown weary of a busy, bustling life,
full of temptations which he had not always effectually resisted. His re-
ligious convictions, which from his youth had been strong, if not constant,
now became paramount, fee was pained that he had not better obeyed
them, and, after many struggles, he resolutely determined to give himself
up to them entirely. And he did it. He began at once a course of reg-
ular studies for the ministry, and in 1837 was settled as an Episcopalian
clergyman in a retired parish of New Jersey, where he devoted himself
earnestly to the duties he had assumed. But his labors were severe, and
THE PKESCOTT FAMILY. 429
his health failed under them ; slowly, indeed, but regularly. Still, no
anxiety was felt for the result; and when he determined to visit, the
Azores, where several of his mother's family, as we have seen, had long
resided, he embarked with every promise that the mild climate of thbse
Fortunate Isles would restore the impaired forces of his physical constitu-
tion, and permit him soon to resume the duties he loved. But on the
second day out, a sudden attack perhaps apoplectic and certainly one
of which there had been no warning symptom broke down his strength
at once; and early the next morning, April llth, 1844, he died without a
movement of his person, like one falling asleep, his watch held gently in
his hand, as if he had just been noting the hour.
After his settlement as a clergyman in New Jersey, he was married to
an excellent and devoted wife, who survived him only a few years, but
they had no children.
William Hickling Prescott, the historian, as it has already been record-
ed, has three surviving children, viz. :
1. William Gardiner Prescott, born January 27, 1826, and named after
his father's friend, William Howard Gardiner, Esq. He was mar-
ried November 6, 1851, to Augusta, daughter of Joseph Augustus
Peabody, Esq., of Salem, and they have four children,
Edith, born April 20, 1853,
William Hickling, born February 22, 1855,
Linzee, born November 27, 1859,
Louisa, born February 19, 1863.
2. Elizabeth Prescott, born July 27, 1828, and married, March 16,
1852, to James Lawrence, Esq., son of the late Hon. Abbott Law-
rence, Minister of the United States at the Court of St. James from
1849 to 1853. They have three children,
James, born March 23, 1853,
Gertrude, born February 19, 1855,
Prescott, born January 17, 1861.
3. William Amory Prescott, born January 25, 1830, and named after
his mother's brother and his father's friend, William Amory, Esq.
He is unmarried (1862).
APPENDIX B.
THE CROSSED SWORDS.
(See p. 61.)
COLONEL WILLIAM PRESCOTT, the grandfather of the his-
torian, died, as has been mentioned, in 1795. Captain John Linzee,
grandfather of the historian's wife, was born at Portsmouth, England, in
1743, but, establishing himself in the United States after the war of the
Revolution was over, died at Milton, near Boston, in 1798. In process of
time, the swords of these two opposing commanders came by transmission
and inheritance to the historian, and were by him arranged, first over one
of the bookcases in his quiet study in Bedford Street, and afterwards on
the cornice of his library in Beacon Street. In either place the sight was
a striking one, and generally attracted the attention of strangers. Mr.
Thackeray, whose vigilant eye did not fail to notice it when he visited
Mr. Prescott in 1852, thus alludes to it very happily in the opening of his
" Virginians," published six years later :
" On the library-wall of one of the most famous writers of America
there hang two crossed swords, which his relatives wore in the great war
of Independence. The one sword was gallantly drawn in the service of
the king, the other was the weapon of a brave and honored republican
soldier. The possessor of the harmless trophy has earned for himself a
name alike honored in his ancestors' country and in his own, where genius
like his has always a peaceful welcome."
By the thirteenth article of Mr. Prescott's will he provided for the dis-
position of these swords as follows :
" The sword which belonged to my grandfather, Colonel William Pres-
cott, worn by him in the battle of Bunker Hill, I give to the Massachusetts
Historical Society, as a curiosity suitable to be preserved among their col-
lections ; and the sword which belonged to my wife's grandfather, Captain
Linzee, of the British Royal Navy, who commanded one of the enemy's
ship's lying off Charlestown during the same battle, I give to my wife."
As Mrs. Prescott, and the other heirs of Captain Linzee, desired that
the swords should not be separated, Mr. Gardiner, who was Mr. Prescott's
executor, sent them both to the Historical Society, accompanied by an in-
teresting letter addressed to the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, its President,
and to be found, dated April 19th, 1859, in the volume of the "Proceed-
ings " of that Society published in 1860, pp. 258-264.
Resolutions offered by Mr. Winthrop were unanimously adopted, di-
recting the swords to be arranged in a conspicuous place in the halls of
the Society, crossing each other, as they had been crossed in Mr. Prescott's
THE CROSSED SWORDS. 431
library, and with suitable inscriptions setting forth their history and the
circumstances of their reception.
A tablet of black-walnut was, therefore, prepared, to which they now
stand attached, crossed through a carved wreath of olive-leaves ; while
over them are two shields, leaning against each other, and bearing respec-
tively the Prescott and the Linzee arms.
On the right, next to the hilt of On the left, next to the hilt of
Colonel Prescott's sword, is the fol- Captain Linzee's sword, is the fol-
lowing inscription : lowing inscription :
The sword The sword
of of
COLONEL WILLIAM PRESCOTT, CAPTAIN JOHN LINZEE, R. N.,
worn by him who commanded the
while in command of the British sloop-of-war " Falcon "
Provincial forces while acting against the Americans
at the during the Battle of Bunker Hill,
Battle of Bunker Hill, presented to the
17 June, 1775, Massachusetts Historical Society,
and 14 April, 1859,
bequeathed to the by his grandchildren
Massachusetts Historical Society THOMAS C. A. LINZEE
by his grandson and
WILLIAM H PRESCOTT. MRS. WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT.
On two separate scrolls is the following inscription :
These swords They
for many years were hung crossed are now preserved
in the library in a similar position
of the late eminent historian by the
WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT, MASS. HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
in token of in memory
international friendship of the associations
and with which they will be
family alliance. inseparably connected.
On the evening of Thursday, April 28, 1859, at a meeting of the So-
ciety, held at the house of its President, the Hon. Kobert C. Winthrop,
the Kev. Dr. N. L. Frothingham who, at the special meeting of the
Society, called together by the death of the historian, had in apt and
beautiful words offered an affectionate tribute to the character of his friend
and parishioner read the following lines, which, in words no less apt
and touching, give the poetical interpretation of
THE CROSSED SWORDS.
Swords crossed, but not in strife!
The chiefs who drew them, parted by the space
Of two proud countries' quarrel, face to face
Ne'er stood for death or life.
432 APPENDIX.
Swords crossed, that never met
While nerve was in the hands that wielded them;
Hands better destined a fair family stem
On these free shores to set.
Kept crossed by gentlest bands !
Emblems no more of battle, but of peace;
And proof how loves can grow and wars can cease,
Their once stern symbol stands.
It smiled first on the array
Of marshalled books and friendliest companies;
And here, a history among histories,
It still shall smile for aye.
See that thou memory keep,
Of him the firm commander; and that other,
The stainless judge ; and him our peerless brother,
All fallen now asleep.
Yet more; a lesson teach,
To cheer the patriot-soldier in his course,
That Right shall triumph still o'er insolent Force:
That be your silent speech.
Oh, be prophetic too !
And may those nations twain, as sign and seal
Of endless amity, hang up their steel,
As we these weapons do!
The archives of the Past,
So smeared with blots of hate and bloody wrong,
Pining for peace, and sick to wait so long,
Hail this meek cross at last.
And so was fitly closed up the history of this singular trophy, if trophy
that can be called which was won from no enemy, and which is a memento
at once of a defeat that was full of glory, and of triumphs in the field of
letters more brilliant than those in the fields of war.
APPENDIX C.
EXTRACTS FROM A LETTER ADDRESSED BY MR. ED-
MUND B. OTIS, FORMERLY MR. PRESCOTT'S SECRE-
TARY, TO MR. TICKNOR.
MY DEAR SIR,
(See p. 217, note.)
BOSTON, June 4th, 1859.
I well recollect the first interview I had with the author of " Ferdinand
and Isabella." I visited him at his library in his father's house in Bed-
ford Street, where he resided in the summer of 1841. I had previously
read his History, and had copied, when a Sophomore, several of the closing
chapters of the work, by way of a voluntary rhetorical exercise, as I ad-
mired the purity and beauty of his style, little thinking, at the time, that
it would be my fate to copy several volumes of his subsequent composi-
tions. I had heard that he was blind ; and, from the nature and amount
of his historical lore, I had expected to see an old gentleman, somewhat
the worse for wear. My surprise was very great when I was greeted by
a tall, handsome man, in the prime of life, who did not appear to me over
thirty years of age, although at that time he must have been about forty-
five. He seemed amused at the surprise, which I did not probably entirely
conceal, and asked me if I had not expected to find him halt, lame, and
maimed, as well as blind.
He was more strongly attracted, he told me, to civil than to literary
history, as his audience would be so much larger ; the literary historian,
necessarily, in a great measure, addressing himself to scholars, who may
alone be supposed to be deeply interested in his subject, and who alone
are competent to decide upon his merit, while the civil historian has the
world for his audience, and may interest every man who has civil or re-
ligious rights and liberties to study and defend. This was the substance
of the first conversation I ever had with Mr. Prescott, though, at this dis-
tance of time, I do not attempt to report his exact language.
Although he enjoyed the variety of a sea-shore, country, and city life,
there was a uniformity, regularity, and order in his mode and habit of
living, that I have never seen equalled by any other man. One day was
very much the counterpart of another ; and I sometimes thought that he
had reduced life to such a system, and regulated his every action so much
by rule, that there was danger of merging volition in a mechanical, clock-
work existence, and losing liberty in the race for knowledge and fame.
19 SB
434 APPENDIX.
This regularity and uniformity of life were undoubtedly necessary for
the preservation of his health, and the performance of his self-imposed
literary tasks.
Mr. Prescott has given some account, in the Preface to his " History
of the Conquest of Peru/' and, I believe, in the Prefaces to his other
works, of the nature and degree of his impaired vision, of his use of a
noctograph or writing-case for the blind, and of the general duties of his
secretary, with all of which you must be familiar ; but perhaps it may not
be without interest, if I give from memory a brief sketch of his mode of
writing a chapter of history.
It was the habit of Mr. Prescott, as you are aware, to study the grand
outlines of his subject, and to plan the general arrangement and propor-
tions of his work, classifying the various topics he would have to treat,
and dividing them into books and chapters, before studying them closely
in detail, when preparing to compose a chapter. When he had decided
upon the subject to be discussed, or events to be related, in a particular
chapter, he carefully read all that portion of his authorities, in print and
manuscript, bearing on the subject of the chapter in hand, using tables of
contents and indices, and taking copious notes of each authority as he
read, marking the volume and page of each statement for future reference.
These notes I copied in a large, legible hand, so that, at times, he could
read them, though more frequently I read them aloud to him, until he had
impressed them completely on his memory. After this had been accom-
plished, he would occupy several days in silently digesting this mental
provender, balancing the conflicting testimony of authorities, arranging
the details of his narrative, selecting his ornaments, rounding his periods,
and moulding the whole chapter in his mind, as an orator might prepare
his speech. Many of his best battle-scenes, he told me, he had composed
while on horseback. His vivid imagination carried him back to the six-
teenth century, and he almost felt himself a Castilian knight, charging
with Corte's, Sanddval, and Alvarado on the Aztec foe.
When he had fully prepared his chapter in his mind, he began to dash
it off with rapidity by the use of his writing-case. As he did not see his
paper when he wrote, he sometimes wrote twice over the same lines, which
did not have a tendency to render them more legible. His usual fluency
of composition was sometimes interrupted, not by a dearth, but by too
great copiousness of expression, several synonymous phrases or parallel
forms of speech presenting themselves at once. All these he wrote down,
one after the other, in duplicate, to be weighed and criticised at leisure,
not waiting to settle the difficulty at the time, fearing that by delay he
might lose the ease of style which usually accompanies rapidity of com-
position. When beginning to describe a battle, he would often, to rouse
his military enthusiasm, as he said, hum to himself his favorite air, " O
give me but my Arab steed," &c.
As the sheets were stricken off, I deciphered them, and was ready to
read them to him when he had finished the chapter. He was as cautious
in correction as he was rapid iu writing. Eaeh word and sentence was
LETTER OF ME. OTIS. 435
carefully weighed, and subjected to the closest analysis. If found wanting
in strength or beauty, it was changed and turned until the exact expres-
sion required was found, when he dictated the correction, which was made
by me on his manuscript. He allowed nothing to remain, however beau-
tiful in itself, which he did not think added to the beauty and strength of
the whole. He hated fine writing, merely as fine writing. I have known
him mercilessly to strike out several pages of beautiful imagery, which he
believed on reflection had a tendency rather to weaken than enhance the
effect he desired to produce.
After the chapter had been thus carefully corrected, I copied it in a
large, heavy, pike-staff hand, that those who run might read. I had to
acquire the hand for the occasion, and my practice in that line may ac-
count for my present legible, but somewhat inelegant chirography. When
the chapter was copied in this large hand, Mr. Prescott re-perused and re-
corrected it. He then read again my copy of the original notes that he
had taken from the authorities on which he founded his chapter, and from
them prepared the remarks, quotations, and references found in his foot-
notes, which were also usually rapidly stricken off with his writing-case,
and copied by me in the same large, legible hand with the text. This
copy was again and again carefully scrutinized and corrected by himself.
Mr. Prescott believed that an historian could not be too careful in
guarding against inaccuracies. I recollect that, when he had finished the
" History of the Conquest of Mexico," the whole manuscript was submit-
ted to yourself for critical suggestions and corrections, the value of which
he acknowledges in his Preface. When the manuscript was sent to press,
before the plates were stereotyped, the printed sheets were sent to the
author, for his final corrections, besides being subjected to the careful in-
spection of Mr. Nichols, the corrector of the Cambridge press, and to the
sharp eye of Mr. Charles Folsom, whose critical acumen Mr. Prescott
fully appreciated.
Mr. Prescott loved his books almost as he loved his children ; he liked
to see them well dressed, in rich, substantial bindings ; and if one, by any
accident, was dropped, " it annoyed him," he said jestingly, " almost as
much as if a baby fell."
APPENDIX D.
LITERARY HONORS.
(See p. 224, note.)
FROM the time when, in 1838, Mr. Prescott's reputation "burst out
into sudden blaze," literary honors of all kinds awaited him in pro-
fusion, both at home and abroad. I will give here a list of the more con-
siderable of them in the order of time.
1838. Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston.
American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia.
Rhode Island Historical Society, Providence.
1839. Royal Academy of History, Madrid.
Royal Academy of Sciences, Naples.
American Antiquarian Society, Worcester, Mass.
New York Historical Society, New York city.
Georgia Historical Society, Savannah.
New Hampshire Historical Society, Concord.
1840. American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Boston.
Literary and Historical Society of Quebec.
1841. Herculaneum Academy, Naples.
Doctor of Laws, Columbia College, South Carolina.
1842. Kentucky Historical Society, Louisville.
1843. Doctor of Laws, Harvard College, Massachusetts.
Indiana Historical Society, Indianapolis.
1844. Maryland Historical Society, Baltimore.
National Institute, Washington, D. C.
1845. French Institute, Academy of Moral Sciences, Paris.
Royal Society of Berlin.
1846. New Jersey Historical Society, Princeton.
1847. Royal Society of Literature London.
Society of Antiquaries, London.
New England Historic-Genealogical Society, Boston.
1848. Doctor of Laws, Columbian College, Washington, D. C.
1850. Doctor of Civil Law, Oxford, England.
1851. Mexican Society of Geography and Statistics, Mexico.
1852. Royal Irish Academy, Dublin.
1854. Wisconsin Historical Society, Madison.
1856. Historical Society of Florida, St. Augustine.
Historical Society of Iowa, Burlington.
1857. Historical Society of Tennessee, Nashville.
LITERARY HONORS. 437
He received the honors of membership from several societies of young
men in different parts of the country, two or three of which, like a de-
bating-society at Cambridge, a literary association at Philadelphia, and one
at Marysville, Kentucky, took his name. He was not insensible to such
marks of regard from those who, in the coming generation, are to be a
part of the voice of posterity.
APPENDIX E.
TEANSLATIONS OF ME. PEESCOTT'S H1STOEIES.
I. SPANISH.
HISTOEIA del Eeinado de los Eeyes Catolicos, D. Fernando y D a .
Isabel, escrita en Ingles por William H. Prescott, traducida del
Original por D. Pedro Sabau y Larroya. 4 torn. 8vo. Madrid, Eiva-
deneyra, 1845, 1846.
Historia de la Conquista de Mejico con una Eesena preliminar de la
Civilizacion antigua Mejicana y la Vida del Conquistador, Hernan Cortes,
escrita en Ingle's por William Prescott (sic), y traducida del Original por
D. J. B. de Beratarrechea. 3 torn. 8vo. Madrid, Eivadeneyra, 1847.
Historia de la Conquista de Mexico con una Ojeada preliminar sobre la
antigua Civilizacion de los Mexicanos y con la Vida de su Conquistador,
Fernando Cortes. Escrita en Ingles por W. Prescott (sic), y traducida
al Espanol por Joaquin Navarro. 3 torn. 8vo. Mexico, impreso por
Ignacio Cumplido, editor de esta Obra, 1844-6.
The second volume contains one hundred and twenty-four pages of notes
on the whole work, by D. JoseT. Eamirez, and the third consists of seventy-
one lithographic prints of the antiquities of Mexico, portraits of persons
who have figured in its history, &c., with explanations to illustrate them,
by D. Isidro E. Gondra, head of the Mexican Museum.
Historia de la Conquista de Mejico con un Bosquejo preliminar de la
Civilizacion de los antiguos Mejicanos y la Vida de su Conquistador,
Hernando Cortes, escrita en Ingles por Guillermo H. Prescott, Autor de
la " Historia de Fernando e Isabel," traducida al Castellano por D. Jose*
Maria Gonzalez de la Vega, Segundo Fiscal del Tribunal Superior del
Departamento de Mejico, y anotada por D. Lucas Alaman. 2 torn. 8vo
grande. Mejico, imprenta de V. G. Torres, 1844.
I have imperfect notices of the following translations into Spanish :
Historia de los Eeyes Catolicos por Guillermo Prescot (sic), traducida
por D. Atiliano Calvo. Edicion ilustrada con buenos grabadosque repre-
sentan diversos pasages, vistas y retratos de los mas ce'lebres personages.
1 tomo. 4to.
Historia del Descubrimiento y Conquista del Peru, con Observaciones
preliminares sobre la Civilizacion de los Incas. 2 torn. 8vo. Madrid.
" There is also a translation of the History of Philip the Second/' but
it is, perhaps, not yet all published.
TRANSLATIONS OF MR. PRESCOTT'S HISTORIES. 439
H. FRENCH.
Histoire du Regne de Ferdinand et d'Isabelle, traduite de 1'Anglais de
Guillaume H. Prescott, par J. Renson et P. Ithier. 4 vol. 8vo. Paris et
Bruxelles, Didot, 1860, 1861.
Histoire de la Conquete du Mexique, avec un tableau preliminaire de
1'ancienne Civilisation Mexicaine, et la Vie de Fernand Cortes, par Wil-
liam H. Prescott, publics en Fran9ais par Amedee Pichot. 3 vol. 8vo.
Paris, F. Didot, 1846.
Histoire de la Conquete du Perou, precedee d'un Tableau de la Civili-
sation des Incas, par W. H. Prescott, traduite de 1'Anglais par H. Poret.
3 vol. 8vo. Paris, F. Didot, 1860.
Histoire du Regne de Philippe Second, par Guillaume H. Prescott, tra-
duite de 1'Anglais par G. Renson et P. Ithier. Tomes I. et II. Paris,
F. Didot, 1860.
Doh Carlos, sa Vie et sa Mort, par W. H. Prescott, traduite de 1' An-
glais par G. Renson. 8vo. Bruxelles, Van Meneen et C ie , 1860.
III. ITALIAN.
Storia del Regno di Ferdinando e Isabella, Sovrani Cattolici di Spagna,
di H. Prescott (sic), recato per prima volta in Italiauo da Ascanio Tem-
pestini. 3 torn. 8vo. Firenze, per V. Batelli e Compagni, 1847, 1848.
A notice of the original work by the Marquis Gino Capponi, who took
much interest in having it translated, may be found in the "Archivio
Storico Italiano," Tom. II., 1845 ; Appendice, p. 606.
A portion of the " History of the Conquest of Peru " was translated
into Italian and published at Florence in 1855 and 1856, in two parts, but
it was made from the Spanish version and not from the original English.
The first is entitled, " Compendio delle Notizie generali sul Peru avanti
la Conquista, ec., tratte dalla Storia di Guglielmo Prescott, e recate in
Italiano da C[esare] M[agherini]." 8vo. Firenze, Tipografia Gali-
leiana, 1855. The other part is entitled, " Scoperta e Conquista del Peru,
Storia di Guglielmo Prescott, tradotta da C[esare] M[agherini]." 8vo.
Firenze, Tipografia Galileiana, 1856. This last translation stops at the
year 1551, the year of Gonzalvo Pizarro's death.
IV. GERMAN.
Geschichte der Regierung Ferdinand's und Isabella's der Katholischen
von Spanien. Von William H. Prescott. Aus dem Englischen iibersetzt
[von H. Eberty]. 2 Bande. 8vo. Leipzig, Brockhaus, 1842.
Geschichte der Eroberung von Mexico, mit einer einleitenden Uebersicht
des friihere mexicanischen Bildungszustandcs und dem Leben des Ero-
berers, Hernando Cortez. Von William H. Prescott. Aus dem Engli-
schen iibersetzt [von H. Eberty]. 2 Bande. 8vo. Leipzig, Brockhaus,
1845.
Geschichte der Eroberung von Peru, mit einer einleitenden Uebersicht
440 APPENDIX.
des Bildungszustandes unter den Inkas. Von William H. Prescott. Ana
dem Englischen iibersetzt [Von H. Eberty]. 2 Bande. 8vo. Leipzig,
Brockhaus, 1848. ,
Geschichte Philipp's des Zweiten, von William H. Prescott. Deutsch
Ton Job. Scherr. 8vo. Theil I. - III. Leipzig, O. Wigand, 1855, sqq.
Das Klosterleben Carl's des Fiinften, von W. H. Prescott. Aus dem
Englischen von Julius Seybel. 8vo. Leipzig, Lorck, 1857.
This last constitutes the twenty-third volume of Lorck's " Conversa-
tions- und Reise-Bibliothek."
V. DUTCH.
Zeden, Gewoonten en Eegeringsvorm in Peru vodr de Komst der Span-
jaarden, geschetst door W. H. Prescott, uit het Engelsch vertaald door
Mr. G. Mees, Az. 8vo. pp. 162. Amsterdam, P. Kraij, Junior, 1849.
This is a translation of the first book of the " History of the Conquest
of Peru," omitting a considerable number of the notes.
All the historical works of Mr. Prescott, in the original English, have
been reprinted both in Paris and in Leipzig ; and, I believe, other trans-
lations have been made of some of them, notices of which I have failed to
obtain. The " History of Ferdinand and Isabella " is said to have ap-
peared in Dutch and Russian, but I have no distinct account of either.
APPENDIX F.
CONVERSATION OF ME. PEESCOTT SHORTLY BEFORE
HIS DEATH.
THE last printed notice of Mr. Prescott and of his conversation is a
very interesting one, by the Reverend William H. Milburn, of
New York, the blind, or nearly blind, friend of whom Mr. Prescott speaks
more than once in his letters. From their common misfortune they had
a strong sympathy with each other ; and Mr. Milburn, having chanced to
visit the historian the evening but one before the day of his death, wrote an
account of his interview immediately afterwards to the Messrs. Harpers
for their Weekly," February 12th, 1859.
" On the evening in question," says Mr. Milburn, " Wednesday, Jan-
uary 26th, Mr. Prescott entered the library with a slower and heavier step
than when I had been in the habit of seeing him years before ; but his
manner had the same unaffected simplicity and cordial warmth. Whether
a stranger would have perceived it, I cannot say ; but my ear, sharpened
by necessity, at once detected the work of paralysis in an occasional thicken-
ing of the speech, I mean, a difficulty in perfect articulation now and
then Among his very first inquiries was a particular one concerning the
members of your own firm, your health, the state and prospects of your
business, &c., manifesting the deepest interest; adding the remark that,
through all the years of his business and personal connection with your
firm, he had never experienced anything but the greatest kindness and
consideration at your hands ; that his enjoyment of your success was un-
diminished ; and that he felt particularly grateful for the kindly mention
which had been made of his personal affliction last year in your paper, and
for the handsome notice of the third volume of his < Philip the Second ' in
the current number of your ' Magazine/
" He then proceeded to a mention of various mutual friends that had
passed away since our last meeting, especially of the Hon. Abbott Law-
rence and Mr. Francis C. Gray, at whose dinner-tables we had often met;
and then of some of his surviving friends, especially of Mr. Ticknor, who,
he said, had shortened and brightened what, but for him, must have been
many a sad and weary hour ; and of Mr. Agassiz, concerning whose
Museum he expressed the liveliest interest. He remarked that the eyes
of the latter had suffered greatly from his work, and that he would be
sadly balked in his prospects, but that he was able to find relief in mani-
fold manipulating labors. This led him naturally to speak of his own and
my infirmity, which were about equal in degree, and of the different lives
we had led ; his, of retired study ; mine, of travel and active toil.
" He added : ' I suppose that Ticknor will never write another book ;
19*
442 APPENDIX.
but he has been doing perhaps better for the community and posterity by
devoting himself for several years to the interests of the Boston City
Library, which may be taken in good part as his work, and a more
valuable contribution to the good of the people has seldom been made.
It is a rare thing for such an institution to get a man so qualified by taste,
knowledge, and accomplishment to look after its interests with such energy
and patience.'
Of Mr. Gray he observed : < Poor Gray ! I think he was the most
remarkable man I ever knew for variety and fulness of information, and a
perfect command of it. He was a walking Encyclopaedia. I have seen
many men who had excellent memories, provided you would let them
turn to their libraries to get the information you wanted ; but, no matter
on what subject you spoke to him, his knowledge was at his fingers'-ends,
and entirely at your service.'
" He then led the conversation to his English friends, to some of whom
he had given me letters on my recent visit to that country. He first spoke
of Lady Lyell, the wife of the celebrated geologist. She is one of the
most charming people I have ever seen/ he said. ' When she married
Sir Charles, she knew nothing of geology ; but, finding that her life was
to be passed among stones, she set herself to work to make friends of
them, and has done so to perfection. She is in thorough sympathy with
all her husband's researches and works ; is the companion of his journeys ;
oftentimes his amanuensis, for her hand has written several of his books ;
and the delight and cheer of his whole life. Unaffected, genial, accom-
plished, and delightful to an almost unequalled extent, she is one of the
rarest women you can meet. And/ he continued, you saw my friend
Dean Milman. What an admirable person he is ! I had a letter from
him only a day or two since, in which he gave an interesting account of
the opening of his Cathedral, St. Paul's, to the popular Sunday-evening
preachings, a matter which has enlisted all the sympathies of the Bishop
of London and of himself. He has been a prodigiously hard worker, and
so has acquired a prematurely old look. Accomplished as historian,
divine, poet, and man of letters, he is at the same time among the most
agreeable and finished men of society I saw in England.'
" < Did you see Dean Trench ? ' he proceeded. Upon my replying in
the affirmative, he added : ' I am sorry never to have seen him ; I have
heard such pleasant things concerning him. He did me the favor some
time since to send me his " Calderon," which I enjoyed greatly.' Reply-
ing in the negative to my inquiry as to whether he had read the Dean's
books on Words/ &c., he said, ' They shall be the very next books I
read/
" ' England 's a glorious country/ he said, ' is n't it ? What a hearty
and noble people they are, and how an American's heart warms toward
them after he has been there once, and found them out in their hospitable
homes ! '
" I said : ' Mr. Prescott, are n't you coming to New York ? We should
all be very glad to see you there.' No/ he replied, < I suppose that the
days of my long journey^ are over. I must content myself, like Horace,
with my three houses. Tou know I go at the commencement of summer
to my cottage by the seaside at Lynn Beach, and in autumn to my patri-
LETTER OF THE REV. MR. MILBURN. 443
monial acres at Pepperell, which have been in our family for two hundred
years, to sit under the old trees I sat under when a boy ; and then, with
winter, come to town to hibernate in this house. This is the only travel-
ling, I suppose, that I shall do until I go to my long home. Do you
remember the delightful summer you spent with us at Lynn, two or three
years ago ? I wish you would come and repeat it next summer.'
" In another part of the conversation he said : These men with eyes
have us at a serious disadvantage, have n't they? While they run, we
can only limp. But I have nothing to complain of, nor have you ; Prov-
idence has singularly taken care of us both, and, by compensation, keeps
the balance even.'
" He then spoke with entire calmness of the shock which his system
had received from his first stroke of apoplexy last year ; said that it had
weakened him a good deal ; but he was very grateful that he was able to
take exercise, although confined to a spare diet, and not allowed to touch
meat or anything of a stimulative kind ; and managed, moreover, to keep
up his literary labors. < I have always made my literary pursuits,' he said,
' a pleasure rather than a toil ; and hope to do so with the remainder of
" Philip." as I am yet able to work two or three, and sometimes more,
hours a day.' He stated that his. eye had suffered considerably from the
blow, and, while we talked, he found it necessary to shade his face. In
the course of the conversation we were joined by the ladies of the family,
Mrs. Prescott, her sister, his daughter, and daughter-in-law. He then
spoke in glowing and grateful terms, as I alluded to the interest taken in
his health throughout the country, of the kindness which he had invariably
experienced at the hands of his countrymen. I can never,' he said, be
sufficiently grateful for the tokens of esteem, regard, and affection, which
I have had from them through all the years of my literary career. True,
it makes me feel like an old man to see my fifteen volumes upon the shelf,
but my heart is as young as it ever was to enjoy the love which the coun-
try has ever shown me.' When I said it was a cheering thing for a man
to know he had given so much happiness as he had done by his books, he
said that it was his own truest happiness to trust that he had been able to
confer it. He said he hoped to live to finish < Philip,' which was now
three fifths done. As I bade him good by, I said, 'God bless you, Mr.
Prescott ; I know I breathe the prayer of the country when I say, May
your life be spared for many years, to add volume after volume to the
fifteen.' He rejoined, ' My greatest delight is the love of my friends and
their appreciation of my labors.'
" Little did I think that the hand which so warmly grasped mine as he
led me down the stairs would, ere eight and forty hours were past, be cold
and stiff in death. Peace to the memory of one of the sweetest and noblest
men that ever lived !
" Yours very truly,
" WILLIAM H. MILBURN."
APPENDIX G.
ON HIS DEATH.
SOON after Mr. Prescott's death I received many notes and letters,
expressive of affection and admiration for him. From among them
I select the following.
The first is by Mr. George Lunt, who was his secretary in 1825-6,
and knew him well. See ante, p. 78.
ON A LATE LOSS.
IMITATION OP HORACE, LIB. I. OD. XXIV.
Quis desiderio sit pudor, &o.
What time can bring relief
What blame reprove our grief ?
The well-beloved lies low!
The funeral strains prolong,
Muse of tragic song,
Does, then, perpetual sleep
Hold him ? and bid us weep
In vain to seek through earth
For honor so unstained,
Such manly truth maintained,
Such glory won and worn by modest worth?
By all the good deplored,
No tears sincerer poured,
Than fell thine own, friend !
Yet pious thou in vain,
Claiming for earth again
Gifts, which kind Heaven on no such terms will lend.
No fond desires avail,
Friendship's deep want must fail,
Even love's devout demand ;
Inexorable Death,
Pledges of deathless faith,
Seeps souls once gathered to the shadowy land.
And oftenest to that bourne
They pass, nor more return,
The best we miss the most;
Hard seems the stroke of fate,
But Heaven bids us wait,
And there, at last, rejoin the loved, the lost.
ON HIS DEATH. 445
Another short poem came anonymously to my door, but was afterwards
ascertained to have been written by the Rev. George Richards, then a
clergyman of Boston. It was founded upon some remarks made by me
at the meeting of the Historical Society, February 1st, on the occasion of
Mr. Prescott's death, concerning his wish, that, previous to their final de*
posit in the house appointed for all living, his remains might rest for a
time in his library, under the shadow, as it were, of the books he had so
much loved ; the remarks being nearly the same with those about the
same circumstance in the account given, at page 414, of his last days and
burial.
Mr. Richards entitled his poem
THE HISTORIAN IN HIS LIBRARY.
His wish fulfilled ! 'T is done, as he had said :
Borne sadly back, with slow and reverent tread ;
Now closeted, the dead with kindred dead.
Ye need not listen, no low- whispered word
From that hushed conclave will be overheard;
Nor start, as if the shrouded sleeper stirred.
He rests, where he hath toiled : the busy pen
Misses the busier brain ; nor plods, as when
It traced the lore of that far-searching ken.
He lies amid his peers ; the storied great
Look down upon him, here reclined in state,
As mute as they who speechless round him wait.
His task is done; his working-day is o'er;
The morning larum wakens him no more,
Unheard its summons, on that silent shore.
The pomp of Kings, the Incas' faded pride,
The freighted bark, the lonely ocean wide.
Dread war, glad peace, no more his thoughts divide.
He lies, like warrior, after set of sun,
Stretched on the plain where his great deeds were done,
Where he the green, immortal garland won.
Round him the relics of the hard-fought field,
Helmet and lance and unavailing shield,
And well-proved blade he never more shall wield.
So leave him, for a while, in that still room,
His books among; its sober, twilight gloom
Fit prelude to the stiller, darker tomb.
The last of these tokens that I shall cite is from one of the most faithful
and valued of his English friends. It is
446 APPENDIX.
FROM DEAN MILMAN.
DEANERY, ST. PAUL'S, February 19th, [1859].
MY DEAR MR. TICKNOR,
I must unburden myself to some one of the profound sorrow which I
(I should have written we) feel for our irreparable loss. I have had the
happiness to form and retain the friendship of many excellent men ; no
one has ever, considering the short personal intercourse which I enjoyed
with him, and our but occasional correspondence, wakened such strong
and lasting attachment. He found his way at once to my heart, and has
there remained, and ever will remain, during the brief period to which I
can now look forward, as an object of the warmest esteem and affection.
I think I should have loved the man if I had only known him as an
author ; his personal society only showed his cordial, liberal, gentle char-
acter in a more distinct and intimate form. That which was admiration
became love. There is here but one feeling, among those who had not
the good fortune to know him, as among those who knew him best,
deep regret for a man who did honor to the literature of our common lan-
guage, and whose writings, from their intrinsic charm and excellence, were
most popular, without any art or attempt to win popularity.
The suddenness of the blow aggravates its heaviness. I had written to
him but a few weeks ago, (I doubt not that he received my letter,) ex-
pressing the common admiration with which his last volume was received
here by all whose opinion he and his most discerning friends would think
of the highest value. In one respect he has ended well, for he never sur-
passed passages in the last volume ; but it is sad to think that he has
ended, and left his work incomplete. I can hardly hope that much can
be left finished by his hand ; if anything is left, I trust it will pass into
the hand of him best qualified to shape and mould it into form, yourself.
As I feel that I can express our sorrows to no one so fitly as to you, so
there is no one to whom the sacred memory of our friend can be intrusted
with equal confidence. From all that I have heard, his end (premature
as our affection cannot but think it) was painless and peaceful ; and if
as surely we may trust the possession and the devotion of such admi-
rable gifts to their best uses, the promotion of knowledge, humanity,
charity, in its widest sense ; if a life, I fully believe, perfectly blameless,
the discharge of all domestic duties so as to secure the tenderest attach-
ment of all around ; if a calm, quiet, gentle, tolerant faith will justify
as no doubt they may our earnest hopes ; it is that better peace which
has no end.
Both Mrs. Milman and I trust you will undertake the friendly office of
communicating our common sorrow to those whose sorrow must be more
pungent than ours, though, I venture to say, not more sincere. We shall
always think with warm interest of all those who bear the honored name
of Fresco tt, or were connected by ties of kindred or affection with him.
And permit me to add to yourself our kindest condolence, our best wishes,
and our hopes that we may see you again, and soon, in Europe.
Believe me, my dear Mr. Ticknor,
Ever your sincere friend,
H. H. MILMAN.
INDEX.
INDEX.
Abbotsford, visit to, 307.
ADAMS, J. Q., library, 8; Minister
in London, 41 ; on the " Ferdinand
and Isabella," 217 note.
ADAMS, SIR W. } 40.
AGASSIZ, L., 394, 410, 441.
ALAMAN, LUCAS, 400, 407.
Albany, visit to, 247.
ALBERI, E., 252, 346 note.
ALFIERI, V., Life, 219.
ALLISON, SIR A., 296, 311.
ALLEN, JOHN, 113 and note.
ALLSTON, WASHINGTON, 53, 327.
Al-Makkari, translated, 172.
Alnwick Castle, visit to, 303 - 308.
Amadis de Gaula, 9, 69 note.
American Academy of Arts and Sci-
ences, 415.
American Antiquarian Society, 415.
Americanisms, 212 note.
American Stationers' Company, 99.
AMES, JOSEPH, portrait of Prescott,
216.
AMORY, MRS.. CHARLES, 278.
AMORY, SUSAN, wife of Mr. Prescott,
60. See also Prescott, Susan.
AMORY, THOMAS C., 50.
AMORY, WILLIAM, 278, 429.
Antwerp, visit to, 301.
Apoplexy, Mr. Prescott's first attack,
396 ; his own views of it, 397, 403,
404, 405, 407; second attack fatal,
412, 413.
Arabs in Spain, Gayangos on, 171.
Archives du Royaume, 342, 343.
ARGYLL, DUKE OP, visit to, 311 ; Ad-
dress of, 330.
Armada, documents for, 252.
ASCHAM, ROGER, 56.
Ascot Races, 286, 287.
ASPINWALL, COLONEL THOMAS, rela-
tions with Mr. Prescott, 103, 230,
248, 384 ; letters to, 224, 230, 249.
Asvlum for the Blind, 234 - 236.
Athenaeum. See Boston Athenaeum.
BANCROFT, GEORGE, relations with
Mr. Prescott, 93 and note, 337 ;
on the " Ferdinand and Isabella,"
88, 104, 338; letters from Mr. Pres-
cott to, 93, 336, 337, 338, 354, 355,
403; History of the United States,
333, 337, 354, 355, 403, 406.
Beacon Street home, 244.
Bedford Street home, 50, 243, 244,
364.
Belgium, visit to, 300, 303, 323.
BELL, SIR CHARLES, 127 note.
BENAVIDES, 195.
BENTINCK, LORD WILLIAM, 387.
BENTLEY, R., publishes for Mr. Pres-
cott in London, 104, 111 note, 230,
231, 248.
Berlin, Royal Society of, Mr. Prescott
elected into, 223.
BERNALDES, ANDRES, Chronicle, 82.
BERRY, Miss, note of, 319.
BIGELOW, T., 246 note.
Biographical and Critical Miscella-
nies, 230 - 237.
BIOT, on Humboldt, 156.
Blindness, remarks on, 235.
BLISS, ALEXANDER, of the Clnb, 52
note.
Bonds to induce work. See Wagers.
Books not easily obtained, 8.
Boston Athenaeum, 8, 415.
Boston, Prescott homes in, 364.
Boston Public Library, 444.
BOWDITCH, NATHANIEL, 5.
BRAZER, JOHN, of the Club, 62 note.
BRADFORD, SAMUEL D., 24.
BRIDGMAN, LAURA, 235. .
British Museum, 170, 179.
BROUGHAM, LORD, 209 and note ;
manners in the House of Lords, 292.
BROWN, CHARLES BROCKDEN, Life
of, 234.
Brussels, visit to, 300.
BUCKLE, T., History of Civilization,
398, 406.
BULWER, SIR HENRY LYTTON, 278.
Bunker Hill Battle, 403, 404, 422.
BUNSEN, C., Prussian Minister in
London, 292.
BYRON, LORD, 88, 173.
CO
450
INDEX.
CALDERON, DON ANGEL, 153, 187,
278.
CALDERON, MADAME, Travels in
Mexico, 237; letter to, 406.
Cane presented to Mr. Prescott, 351.
CAPPONI, the MARQUIS GINO, 175
and note, 253, 340, 346, 347, 439.
CARLISLE, DOWAGER LADY, 281, 313,
393
CARLISLE, EARL OF, letters from, 257,
385; letters to, 327, 328, 329, 330,
332, 407; kindness to Mr. Prescott
in London, 281, 289; at Naworth
Castle, 312; at Castle Howard, 312
sqq.; Lectures of, 328. See also
Morpeth, Viscount.
CARLOS, DON, 178, 362.
CARLYLE, THOMAS, 299, 339.
CARTER, . ROBERT, Secretary to Mr.
Prescott, 77 note ; on Mr. Prescott's
charities, 149, 150.
GARY'S Dante, 64.
CERVANTES, Review of, 236.
CHAMBERS, Rebellion of 1745, 176.
CHANNING, REV. W. E., Sermon
to Children, 4; on the " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," 114; his style,
209.
CHARLES THE FIFTH at Yuste, 251;
at St. Gudule, 300; Mr. Prescott
urged to write his history, 348; de-
clines, but writes the account of
his life at Yuste, 378, 379.
Chatsworth, visit to, 318.
Cherry-tree at Lynn, 373, 374 and
note.
CHEVALIER, MICHEL, on the "His-
tory of the Conquest of Mexico,"
227.
Christianity, examination of its truth
by Mr. Prescott, 86; re-examina-
tion, 154.
CIRCOURT, COUNT ADOLPHE DE, on
the " Ferdinand and Isabella," 106
and note, 112 ; his Essays and Re-
views, 226; letter to, 389.
Classical Studies of Mr. Prescott, 6,
9, 15, 23, 24, 26, 43, 55.
CLEMENCIN, DIEGO DE, on Isabella
the Catholic, 91, 271.
Club-room, a periodical, 53, 54.
Club to which Mr. Prescott belonged,
52-54.
COGSWELL, JOSEPH G., 157 note; on
the " Conquest of Mexico," 193.
College Life, Mr. Prescott's remarks
on, 25 note.
Columbus, 222 and note; Irvine's
Life of 176.
CONDE, History of the Arabs, 88.
COOPER, SIR ASTLEY, 40.
Copyright, international, 166, 377.
CORNEILLE, PIERRE, 57, 236 note.
CORTES, FERNANDO, portrait of, 177 ;
character, 201.
Critical and Historical Essays, 230-
239.
Crossed Swords, the, 51, 430.
CURTIS, GEORGE T., on the "Con-
quest of Mexico," 193; on Mr.
Prescott's style, 211.
DANE, NATHAN, 424.
DANTE, 61 - 64.
DAPONTE, LORENZO, controversy, 232,
233.
DAVIDSON, MARGARET, Irving' s Life
of, 176.
DAWSON, GEORGE A. F., of the Club,
52 note.
DEXTER, ELIZABETH, sister of the
historian, 427. See also Prescott.
Elizabeth.
DEXTER, FRANKLIN, of the Club, 52
note; contributions to the Club-
Room, 53; notice of, 427.
DIAZ, BERNAL, 201.
DIONYSIUS OF HALICARNASSUS, on
Plato, 142 note.
Dummer Academy, 6, 423.
DUNHAM, DR., on the "Ferdinand
and Isabella," 105.
Earthquake at St. Michael's, 34.
EDGEWORTH, MARIA, on " Ferdinand
and Isabella," 178; letter from, 253;
her fictions, 367, 398.
EDIE OCHILTREE, 369 and note.
Edinburgh Review, mistake about
Mr. Prescott's blindness, 249, 251.
Elgin Marbles, 41.
ELIOT, SAMUEL A., of the Club, 52
note.
ELIOT, WILLIAM H., of the Club, 52
note.
ELLESMERE, EARL, visit from, 375;
letter from, 387.
ELLIS, REV. RUFUS, 415 note.
ELLIS, REV. DR. GEORGE E., 143
note.
England, first visits to, 40-42, 44, 46;
proposes to go again, 184; visit
there, 279 - 320 ; society, 285, 292,
298, 309 ; hospitality, 292, 295 ;
country life, 303-318, 323; rela-
tions with the United States, 331 ;
character, 319, 320, 355, 442; in-
tolerance, 320, 395.
ENGLISH, JAMES L., Secretary to Mr.
Prescott, 77, 81; on Mr. Prescott's
modes of work. 82, 83 ; bonds with
him, 137.
INDEX.
451
Entertainments at Harvard College
Commencements, 25.
Essex Institute, 415.
EVERETT, ALEXANDER H., letter to,
73; aids Mr. Prescott, 181.
EVERETT, EDWARD, aids Mr. Pres-
cott, 178, 268; relations with him,
335; letters to, 341, 344, 349, 351;
letters from, 298, 342, 343, 347;
lecture on Peru, 342 ; on Washing-
ton, 406.
Eye, injury to Mr. Prescott's, 18-20;
severe attack of rheumatism in, 26
-29; suffers in St. Michael's, 32;
state of, when in England, 41; in
Italy, 43; in Paris, 43; influence on
his character, 115, 116, 120; never
to be depended on, 122 and note;
premature decay of, 122; hardly
used at all, 123; always anxious
about, 125, 127; best condition of,
182; infirmity of, connected with
style, 213, 214; increased trouble,
246 ; very bad condition, 247 ; mis-
takes of Edinburgh Keview about,
249, 250 ; Miss Edgeworth on, 253 ;
increasing infirmity, 262, 263, 273,
324; never permanently blind, 352.
FARRE, DR., London, 40.
FAURIEL, CHARLES, 112.
FELTON, CORNELIUS C., Editor of
Lord Carlisle's Diary, 385, 386.
" Ferdinand and Isabella," thought
of as a subject for history, 70, 71,
72, 73; materials for, collected, 74;
book written, 78 - 95 ; four copies
privately printed, 96 ; doubts about
publishing, 96 ; published, 97; suc-
cess, 108 - 114 ; anxiety about,
151; Ford's letter on, 179; his re-
view of, 206, sqq. ; threatened
abridgment, 185.
FERGUSON, ADAM, 398, 406.
FISHER, DR. JOHN D., asylum for the
blind, 234.
Florence, visit to, 345.
FOLSOM, CHARLES, of the Club, 52
note; corrects Mr. Prescott's writ-
ings, 99, 143 and note, 199, 211 and
note, 399.
FORD, EICHARD, his review of " Fer-
dinand and Isabella," 106, 113, 206,
207,339; Mr. Thomas Grenville on
it, 198; Handbook of Mr. Ford,
251; letter from, 179; letter to, 325.
France, visits to, 42, 43, 300.
FREEMAN, REV. JAMES, 381 note.
FRISBIE, L., Professor, 13.
FROTHINGHAM, REV. Dr. N. L., on
Mr. Prescott's character, 29 j poem
on "The Crossed Swords," 431,
432.
Furnace, the, at St. Michael's, 35.
GA CHARD on Charles V., 378; on
Philip II., 389.
GALLATIN, ALBERT, letter from, 195.
GARDINER, REV. DR. JOHN S. J.,
school of, 6, 7, 242 note.
GARDINER, WILLIAM HOWARD, friend
of Mr. Prescott, 10-12; on Mr.
Prescott's habit of making resolu-
tions, 16-18; on his involuntary
laughter, 22 ; letters to, 36, 45 ; reads
classics with Mr. Prescott, 48; of
the Club, 52 note ; account of the
Club, 54 note;. Latin ode to, 116;
revises the " Ferdinand and Isabel-
la," 97, 101; reviews it, 104, 10ft-;
on Mr. Prescott's social character,
129-131; on his mathematics, 184
note; on his Pepperell farm, 370
note; last dinner with him, 383.
GAYANGOS, PASCUAL DE, review of
the " Ferdinand and Isabella," 105,
113; materials for the Conquest of
Peru, 251 ; for Philip II., 251, 255,
267-270; letters to, 170, 172, 175,
178, 194, 195, 196, 227, 251, 252,
255.
German instruction, difficult to ob-
tain, 8.
German studies not undertaken by
Mr. Prescott, 65.
GIBBON, Autobiography, 70 note;
habits of composition,"l41 note.
GONSALVO DE CORDOVA, manuscripts
of, 175 and note.
GRAY, FRANCIS GALLEY, gift to Har-
vard College, 410; character, 441,
442.
GRAY, JOHN CHIPMAN, friend of Mr.
Prescott, 17 ; travels with him, 42 ;
of the Club, 52 note.
GREENOUGH, RICHARD S., bust of
Mr. Prescott, 216.
GREENWOOD, FRANCIS W. P., of the
Club, 52 note; reviews the "Fer-
dinand and Isabella," 104.
GRENVILLE, THOMAS, 198.
GUICCIARDINI, PlETRO, 347.
GUIZOT, FRANCIS, 112, 119 note,
378.
HALE, DR. ENOCH, of the Club, 52
note.
HALLAM, HENRY, on the " Ferdinand
and Isabella," 113; on Mr. Pres-
cott's style, 211 ; letters from, 197,
256, 388.
HAMILTON, JOHN C., letter to, 200.
452
INDEX.
Hampton Court, visit to, 282.
Ham's Hall, visit to, 303.
HARPER AND BROTHERS publish the
"Conquest of Mexico," 190; the
" Miscellanies," 231 ; the " Conquest
of Peru," 248; their establishment
burnt, 361 ; regard for them, 441.
Hartford Convention, 425.
Harvard College, Mr. Prescott enters,
12; life there, 15-25; his honors
there, 23, 24, 415.
HAYWARD, GEORGE, 223.
HEAD, SIR EDMUND, 384.
HICKLING, THOMAS, Maternal grand-
father to Mr. Prescott, Consul at
St. Michael's, 29, 427; visit to him,
31 - 39.
HIGGINSON, MEHITABLE, 2.
HILLARD, GEORGE S., on the " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," 108; on the
'"Conquest of Mexico," 193; his
"Six Months in Italy," 339 and
note, 360.
Historical judgment, standard for,
200.
Historical Society of Massachusetts,
bequest to, 51, 430.
Holland, excursion in, 301 - 303.
HOLLAND, LORD, on the " Ferdinand
and Isabella," 112, 113.
HOLLAND, SIR HENRY, 323, 327.
Homes of the Prescott family, 2, 47,
50 and note, 364-374.
HORACE, imitation of, 444.
HORNER, L., visit to, 282.
Howard Castle, visit to, 312 - 316.
HOWARD, LADY MARY, 312, 313, 314,
317. See also Labouchere, Lady
Mary.
HOWARDS, family of, 289, 317.
HOWE, DR. SAMUEL G., labors for the
blind, 235.
HUGHES, ARCHBISHOP, on the " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," 217.
HUMBOLDT, ALEXANDER VON, opin-
ion of, 155, 183; on the " Conquest
of Mexico," 221, 225 ; assists Mr.
Prescott, 268; Mr. Prescott's desire
to see him, 384.
Illinois Historical Society, 415.
Indian Summer, 380 and note.
Institute, French, Mr. Prescott elect-
ed a corresponding member, 222-
224.
IRVING, PIERRE M., Life of Wash-
ington Irving, 162, 163 and note.
IRVING, WASHINGTON, Conquest of
Granada, 89, 237; correspondence
with about the " Conquest of Mexi-
co," 168 - 163 ; about copyright,
166 ; his " Sketch-Book," 167 ; " Co-
lumbus," 176; "Memoir of Mar-
garet Davidson," 176; style, 182,
208; going Minister to Spain, 188;
on Christmas, 361; letters from,
394, 409.
Italian poetry, reviews of, 231, 233.
Italian studies, 58-64, 71, 72.
Italy, travels in, 42, 43.
JACKSON, DR. JAMES, friend and
medical adviser of Mr. Prescott;
on the original injury to his eye,
18 and note; on the subsequent
severe inflammation, 27 - 29 ; on his
first attack of apoplexy, 396; on
the second and fatal one, 413 ; let-
ter on Mr. Prescott's illnesses, 18
note.
JOHNSON, SAMUEL, on Addison's style,
208 and note ; on the blindness of
Milton, 74.
JONSON, BEN, 57.
KENYON, JOHN, 239, 295.
KING, CHARLES, 44 note.
KIRK, JOHN FOSTER, Secretary to,
Mr. Prescott, 78 note, 281, 298, 412.
KIRKLAND, JOHN T., 13 note.
KNAPP, JACOB NEWMAN, 8.
KOSSUTH, 333.
LABOUCHERE, LADY MARY, letter to,
393. See also Howard, Lady Mary.
LAMARTINE, A., 106.
Latin Christianity, by Dean Milman,
362.
Laura of Petrarch, 59 - 61.
LAWRENCE, ABBOTT, Minister in Lon-
don, 281 ; at Alnwick Castle, 306 ;
illness and death, 383, 386, 387 ;
Life of, by Mr. Prescott, 380 and
note ; Lord Ellesmere on, 387.
LAWRENCE ELIZABETH, daughter of
Mr. Prescott, and her children, 382,
429. See also Prescott, Elizabeth.
LAWRENCE, JAMES, married to Miss
Prescott, 330, 331, 334; villa at
Lynn, 386 ; meeting about a zo-
ological museum at his house, 410.
Lebanon Springs, 189.
LEMBKE, DR. W. F., collects materi-
als for Mr. Prescott's histories, 161
and note, 181, 266, 267.
LEOPOLD, King of Belgium, 301.
LINZEE, CAPT. JOHN, grandfather of
Mrs. W. H. Prescott, 51, 430.
Literary honors received by Mr. Pres-
cott, 436, 437.
Literary loafing, 121 note, 189, 190.
LIVY, 175.
INDEX.
453
LOCKHART, JOHN G., on the " Fer-
dinand and Isabella," 113 ; Mr.
Prescott's review of his Life of
Scott, 154, 237 ; first meeting with,
282 note ; letter from, 327 j death,
384.
LONGMAN & Co., 103, 113 note.
LOKING, CHARLES G., of the Club, 52
note, 143 note.
LUNT, GEORGE, Secretary to Mr.
Prescott, 78 note; imitation of
Horace on his death, 444.
LYELL, SIR CHARLES, first visit to
the United States, 194 and note;
second, 359 and note; third, 360,
375 ; first greeting of Mr. Prescott
in London, 281; Mr. Prescott's re-
gard for, 298 ; letters to, 390, 410.
LYELL, LADY, letters to, '257, 281
note, 321, 322, 334, 359, 360, 361,
362, 363, 383, 384, 386, 393, 394,
404, 405, 408; last words about,
442.
Lynn, villa at, 373 ; life there, 376.
MABLY, Etude de 1'Histoire, 70, 90
and note.
MACAULAY, habits of composition,
294; in society, 298; his History,
331, 388, 389; letter from, 409.
MACKINTOSH, SIR JAMES, 211, 239.
MAHON, LORD (Earl of Stanhope),
history of Europe, 333.
MARSH, GEORGE P., on style and
composition, 142 note, 212 note.
Maryland Historical Society, 415.
MASON, WILLIAM POWELL, early
friend of Mr. Prescott, 14; of the
Club, 52 note.
Massachusetts Convention on the
Constitution, 426.
Massachusetts Historical Society on
Mr. Prescott's death, 415; proceed-
ings on the Crossed Swords, 430,
431.
Memoirs, private, and private letters,
value for history, 179, 195.
Memoranda, Mr. Prescott's private,
139, 164, 400.
Mexico, History of the Conquest of,
materials for, collected, 155, 156,
157, 181; correspondence about,
with Mr. Irving, 157-163; plan of,
182 ; begins to write it, 182 ; Intro-
duction, 183; work completed, 189
and note ; published, 191 ; great
success, 192; English edition, 192;
his own thoughts on, 193, 199; a
solace to the suffering, 225; cor-
rected, 399, 400; translations of,
400, 438, 439, 440. !
MIDDLETON, ARTHUR, early friend of
Mr. Prescott, 12 ; assists him in col-
lecting materials for his histories,
181,266; family of, 280.
MIGNET on the " Ferdinand and Isa-
bella," 112; on the election of Mr.
Prescott into the Institute, 223 ; ma-
terials for Philip II., 267, 342; on
Charles V., 378.
MILBURN, THE KEY. WM. H., on Mr.
Prescott, 441.
MILLER, GENERAL, 172 and note.
MILMAN, THE KEY. H. H., on " Fer-
dinand and Isabella," 113; review
of the " Conquest of Mexico," 193;
acquaintance with, 281 ; regard for,
296, 298; on Mr. Prescott's style,
211, 446; letters to, 200, 322, 362;
letters from, 202, 391; Mr. Pres-
cott's last words about, 442 ; letter
on Mr. Prescott's death, 446.
MILMAN, MRS., letters to, 330, 360,
388.
MlLNES, R. MONCKTON, 288.
MILTON, blindness, 19 ; prose style,
56.
MOLIERE, 57; proposed Life of, 151,
152, 153, 154, 155 ; Review of, 236.
MONTAIGNE, 57.
MOODY, MASTER, 6, 423.
MORPETH, VISCOUNT, visit to Boston,
186; letters from, 186, 199 ; memo-
randum on, 188 ; at New York, 349.
See also Carlisle, Earl of.
MORLEY, LADY. 397.
MOTLEY, J. LOTHROP, relations with
Mr. Prescott, 259 - 262.
MURRAY, JOHN, Senior, declines pub-
lishing the " Ferdinand and Isabel-
la," 104, 113 note.
MURRAY, JOHN, the younger, 285
note.
Nahant, cottage and life at, 370 - 372.
NAPIER, McVEY, Editor of the Edin-
burgh Review, 113; on Mr. Pres-
cott's blindness, 250.
NAVARRETE, MARTIN FERNANDEZ
DE, assists Mr. Prescott, 152 and
note, 166 ; death of, 224.
Naworth Castle, visit to, 311.
,Nepaulese Princes, 282 note.
New England Genealogical Society,
415.
New York, city of, visits to, 153, 188,
216, 246.
New York Historical Society, 415.
New York, State of, 224.
Niagara, visit to, 219 ; painting of, 328,
329.
Noctograph, 116-118, 142, 434.
454
INDEX.
North American Review, articles for.
48. 87, 88, 238, 239.
NORTHAMPTON, LORD, 290, 293.
NORTHUMBERLAND, DUKE OF, visit
to, 303-308.
OTIS, EDMUND B., Secretary to Mr.
Prescott, 77 note, 217 note; letter
of, 433.
OXFORD, BISHOP OF, visit to, 290,
291.
Oxford University, doctorate at, 292 -
294.
PALFREY, JOHN GORHAM, of the Club,
52 note.
Paris, visits to, 42, 43, 300.
PARKE, BARON (Lord Wensleydale),
318 note.
PARKER, DANIEL, 44.
PARKER, HAMILTON, Secretary to Mr.
Prescott, 78 note.
PARR, DR. SAMUEL, 7.
PARSONS, PROFESSOR THEOPHILUS,
early friend of Mr. Prescott; of the
Club, 52 note ; on Mr. Prescott's
social character. 132 j on his con-
versation, 356 ; letter to, 405.
PASCAL, 57.
PEABODY, AUGUSTA, 429.
PEABODY, Jos., Salem merchant, 5.
PEELE, SIR R., dinner, 284, 285 note;
death, 297 ; refusal of a peerage, 309 ;
his papers, 310.
Pennsylvania Historical Society, 415.
PERKINS, THOMAS H., liberality to
the Blind Asylum, 234 and note;
resemblance to Wellington, 284 and
note.
Pepperell farm, description of, 326;
attachment to, 360, 363 ; life at,
366 - 369 ; testamentary dispositions
respecting, 369, 370 and note.
Pepperell, town of, settled and name,
421.
Peru, History of the Conquest of, be-
gun, 216 -218 ; work upon, 226, 241,
243 ; difficulties with, 245, 246 ; fin-
ished, 247 ; published, 248 ; misgiv-
ings about, and success, 248, 249.
PETRARCH, discussion about, 59-61.
Phi Beta Kappa Society, 24 and note ;
Mr. Sumner's Oration before, 353.
PHILIP II., business habits and capa-
city, 343, 344, 348; letters of, in
Paris, 344; in Florence, 347.
PHILIP II., History of, materials col-
lected for, 178, 179, 194, 196, 251;
Mr. Motley's letter about, 259 - 261 ;
Mr. Prescott's difficulties, 262; in-
quiries begun, 264; arrangements,
266 - 271 ; doubts about form of,
273 ; synopsis of, 274 ; begins to
write, 276; memoirs, 277; stopped
by failure of health, 279; finishes
volume first as a history and not as
memoirs, 324; progress, 356, 369;
finishes second volume, 376; pub-
lishes the two, 377; their success,
377; works on volume third, 380,
382; finishes it, 399; publishes it,
407, 409.
PHILLIPS, CHARLES, 173.
PICKERING, JOHN, 5 ; on the " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," 96, 104; Memoir
of, 265.
PICKERING, OCTAVIUS, of the Club,
52 note.
PICKMANS, merchants, 5.
PlZARRO, 241.
PLAYFAIR, PROFESSOR, 398 note.
Plummer Hall, 2.
POLK, PRESIDENT, 352.
PRESCOTT family, 419-429.
PRESCOTT, ABIGAIL, grandmother of
the historian, 421,- 423.
PBESCOTT, BENJAMIN, ancestor of the
historian, 420.
PRESCOTT, CATHARINE GREENE,
mother of the historian, notice of,
426, 427 ; influence on her son, 1, 2,
5; letters to, 33, 38, 290; son never
parted from her, 393; illnesses, 111,
334; death, 358.
PRESCOTT, CATHARINE HICKLING,
daughter of the historian, death, 85,
86 and note.
PRESCOTT; CATHARINE ELIZABETH,
sister of the historian, letter to, 34 ;
her notices of him, 48; her mar-
riage, 427. See also Dexter, Eliza-
beth.
PRESCOTT, EDWARD GOLDSBOROUGH,
brother of the historian, death of,
218; notice of, 428, 429.
PRESCOTT, ELIZABETH, daughter of
the historian, letters to, 286, 802,
303; marriage, 330, 331, 334; lives
near him, 386. See Lawrence, Eliz-
abeth.
PRESCOTT, JAMES, ancestor of the his-
torian, 420.
PRESCOTT, JOHN, first emigrant of the
family, 419.
PRESCOTT, JONAS, ancestor of the his-
torian, 420.
PRESCOTT, OLIVER, father and son,
420.
PRESCOTT, SUSAN, wife of the histo-
rian, her marriage, 49, 50; notice
of, 240; letters to, 282, 288, 295,
297, 300, 311, 316.
PBJBSGOTT, WILLIAM, grandfather of
INDEX.
455
the historian, letter to the people
of Boston, 403 note; commands on
Bunker Hill, 51; notice of, 421-
423.
PRESCOTT, WILLIAM, father of the his-
torian, notice of, 423-427; influ-
ence on his son, 5; removal from
Salem to Boston, 6; life there, 6;
letters to, 13, 31, 33, 38; illness, 190,
191; partial recovery, 218; death,
220 ; effects on his son, 220, 223 and
note, 227 ; character, 228, 229, 243,
245, 367.
PKESCOTT, WILLIAM HICKLING.
1796. Birth, 1.
1800- 1803. Early education, 2, 3.
1803 - 1811. School-boy life, 3 -
11.
1811 - 1814. College life, 16 - 25 ;
loss of his left eye, 18 ; intends to
study law, 26.
1815. Severe disease in his re-
maining eye, 26-29; residence
for his health in St. Michael's,
31-39.
1816, 1817. Travels in England,
France, and Italy, and return
home, 40-46.
1817, 1818. Retired life at home,
48; writes his first article for a
Review, and fails, 48.
1818. Gives up his intention to
study law, 49, 116.
1820. Is married, 49, 50; with
some friends forms a Club, 52;
"The Club-Room," 84; deter-
mines on a life of letters, 65.
1821 - 1824. Prepares himself for
it, 56-66.
1825. First Spanish studies, 67 -
69; proposes to write history of
some sort, 70-77.
1826. Selects "Ferdinand and
Isabella" for his subject, 72.
1827-1837. Writes and publishes
it, 79 - 110.
1837. Thinks of writing a Life of
Moliere, 151.
1838 - 1843. Prefers the " Con-
quest of Mexico," and writes and
publishes it, 181 - 193.
1844. Publishes a volume of Mis-
cellanies, 230-239.
1844 - 1847. Writes and publishes
the "Conquest of Peru," 216-
248.
1844. Death of his father, 220;
election into the French Institute
and the Royal Academy of Ber-
lin, 222-224.
1848. Doubts about a History of
Philip II., 262 ; Memoir of Picker-
ing, 265 ; Histwy of the Conquest
of Mexico under General Scott
proposed to him, 272.
1849. Begins History of Philip
II., 276.
1850. Visit to England, 279 - 320.
1851. Goes on with Philip H.,
324.
1852. Death of his mother, 358.
1854-1855. Finishes and pub-
lishes first two volumes of Philip
II., 376, 377.
1855 - 1856. Addition to Robert-
son's History of Charles V., 379.
1856. Memoir of Mr. Lawrence.
380.
1857. Failing health, 381.
1858. First apoplectic attack,
396 - 398 ; finishes the third vol-
ume of Philip II., 399; corrects
" Conquest of Mexico," 400; last
residence in Pepperell, 400.
1859. Last occupations, 402 ; last
letter, 410 ; last pleasures, 411 ;
death, 412, 413 ; funeral, 414, 415 ;
public sorrow, 415, 416.
PRESCOTT, W. H.
Early amusements, 3, 10 - 12 ; reso-
lutions made and broken, 16, 17;
indulgences at college, 18 ; dis-
like of mathematics, 21, 196 and
note; involuntary fits of laugh-
ter, 22; likes puns, 50 note; per-
sonal appearance, 51; death of
his first daughter, 85 ; inquiries
into the truth of Christianity, 86 ;
Mably and Clemencin, 90, 91, 92 ;
character, habits, and modes of
work influenced by the infirmity
in his sight, 115-128; smokes
moderately, and drinks wine by
rule, 126; social character, 129-
132; earl}' determines on a life
of labor, 133; obstacles and ex-
pedients to overcome them, 134-
139; prepares his composition in
his memory, 140-143; moral
supervision of his character, 144,
145 ; much relating to his habits
little known, 145 - 147 ; conver-
sation and manners, 147, 148 ;
charities public and private, 148-
150; fresh inquiries into the truth
of Christianity, 154; correspond-
ence with Mr. Irving, 157-163;
threatened abridgment of " Fer-
dinand and Isabella,." 184, 185;
acquaintance and friendship with
Lord Morpeth, 186 - 188 ; his
style, and how he formed it, 203 -
456
INDEX.
215 ; death of his brother Ed-
ward, 218; teath of his father,
220, 221 ; elected into the French
Institute and the Royal Academy
of Berlin, 222 - 224 ; contributions
to the North American Review,
239 ; domestic relations, 240 ; life
at Pepperell, 241-244 ; removal
to Beacon Street, 244 ; journey to
Washington, 247 ; to Albany, 247 ;
letter of Mr. Motley, 259-261;
bad state of his eye, 262, 2685
Ranke, 270, 271 ; fear of deafness,
277; discouragement and anxie-
ties, 273 - 275 ; failure of health,
277; visit to Washington, 278;
to England, 279 - 320 ; youthful
appearance, 301 ; difficulties,
324, 325; political opinions, 335;
political conversation, 356; his
different homes, 364-374; first
summer at Lynn, 375; corre-
spondence, 383 - 395 ; apoplec-
tic attack and recovery, 396 - 399 ;
occupations subsequently, 400-
402; correspondence, 403-410;
death and funeral, 412 - 416 ;
regularity of his habits, 433 ; pre-
ferred literary to civil history,
433 ; love of his books, 435 ; liter-
ary honors, 436, 437 ; translations
ofhis histories, 438, 439, 440 ; con-
versation with Rev. Mr. Milburn,
441, 442, 443; feelings of grati-
tude to his countrymen, 443; ex-
Eressions of individual sorrow at
is death, 444 - 446.
PRESCOTT. WILLIAM AMORY, son of
the historian, 242, 297, 429.
PRESCOTT, WILLIAM GARDINER, son
of the historian, 6 note, 242; in
London, 297 5 at Castle Howard,
313; his marriage and children,
429.
PUTNAM, MRS., 6 note.
PUTNAM, GENERAL, 403.
QUEEN VICTORIA, presentation to,
289, 295; court ball, 296; visit to
Castle Howard, 313.
KAMIREZ, J. F., notes on the " Con-
quest of Mexico," 407, 440.
RANKE, L., assists Mr. Prescott in
collecting materials, 268 ; his Span-
ish Empire, 270; Mr. Prescott
prints part of it for his private use,
271.
RAPHAEL'S cartoons, 41.
RAUMER, F. VON, Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries, 194.
Readers of Mr. Prescott. See Secre-
taries.
Relazioni Venete, 194, 252, 253, 346
note.
Resolutions of Mr. Prescott as a basis
of conduct, 15, 16, 136 and note.
Reviews, why Mr. Prescott wrote
them, 238; list of, 239 note; opin-
ions on reviewing, 238, 239 j small
value of, 350.
Rheumatism of Mr. Prescott, 28, 81,
40, 47, 118, 364.
RICHARDS, THE REV. GEORGE, lines
on Mr. Prescott's death, 445.
RICHMOND, portrait of Mr. Prescott,
295.
RIPLEY, GEORGE, 356.
ROBERTSON, 'WILLIAM, 79 note; his
Charles V., 179 j his America, 197;
his Charles V. continued by Mr.
Prescott, 376, 379, 390.
ROGERS, S., letters from, 169, 197}
anecdotes of, 294 3 visits to, 299.
Saint Michael's Island, visits to, 31 -
39.
SALA, Journey due North, 412.
Salem, life in, during Mr. Prescott's
boyhood, 5.
SCHAFER, H., History of Spain, 161
note.
SCOTT, SIR W., power to resist pain,
236 note; Review of his Life by
Lockhart, 237; love of his novels,
242, 367, 369 note, 398 ; Miss Edge-
worth on, 253; his diaries, 294, 299;
his last illness, 398.
SCOTT, GENERAL WINFIELD, project
for a history of his Conquest of
Mexico, 272.
Scottish popular poetry, Review of,
236.
SCRIBE, Sir Robert Peel's mistake
about, 285 note.
Secretaries to Mr. Prescott, difficult
to obtain, 77, 78; list of, 78 note.
SHAW, MRS. HOWLAND, 278.
SHAW, WILLIAM SMITH, founder of
the Boston Athenasum, 8.
SHERWOOD, MRS. JOHN, sonnet by,
374 note.
Simancas Castle, documents in, 226;
difficulty of access to, 266 ; materi-
als from, obtained, 269, 270 ; part
found in Paris, 342, 343.
SIMONDS, HENRY C., Secretary to
Mr. Prescott, 78 note.
SISMONDI, J. C. L., letter from, 167.
SMITH, ALEXANDER, early friend,
280, 321.
Sous, " Conquista de Mexico," first
INDEX.
457
Spanish book read by Mr. Prescott,
68, 69.
SOUTIIEY, R., on " Ferdinand and Isa-
bella," 113 and note.
SPARKS, JAKED, of the Club, 52
note; on " Ferdinand and Isabella,"
97 ; edition of Washington's Works,
333.
Spiritual manifestations, 87 note.
SPOOLER, W. J., of the Club, 52 note.
SVRAGUE, CHARLES, Ode to Shake-
speare reviewed by Mr. Prescott,
88.
STACKFOLE, J. L., 260 and note.
Stafford House, 289.
STANLEY, LORD, 286.
STEPHENS' s, J. L., Central America,
197.
STIRLING, WILLIAM, Memoir of Mr.
Prescott, 284; relations with him,
326 ; his Cloister Life of Charles V.,
378.
STORY, MR. JUSTICE, 5.
Style of Mr. Prescott, great pains
taken Avith, 203 - 205 ; Ford on it,
206; its freedom, 210; consistent
with the author's character, 212;
his individuality in it, 212 ; influ-
enced by his infirmity of sight, 213,
214; result, 214, 215.
Styluses used with the noctograph, to
whom given, 360.
SUMNER, CHARLES, illness of, 225;
visit with, to Washington, 246; Sen-
ator, 330, 332; relations with, 336;
on war, 352, 353; his visit to Eng-
land, 395 ; letters to, 339, 348, 349,
351, 352, 353.
SUTHERLAND, DUCHESS OF, visit to,
317.
Swords, The Crossed, 51, 895, 430-432.
TASCHEREAU, JULES, 152.
TAYLOR, PRESIDENT, 278.
TEHNAUX-COMPANS, 267.
THACKKRAY, W. M., 355, 359, 430.
Thanksgiving in Bedford Street, 365.
THAYER, N., 247.
THIERRY, P. AUGUSTIN, blindness, 89,
119 note; letters from, 168, 255.
TICKNOR, MRS. ANNA, letters to, 242,
298.
TICKNOR, Miss ANNA, letters to, 173,
174, 176.
TICKNOR, GEORGE, acquaintance with
Mr. Prescott as a boy, 7 ; during an
illness in Boston, 29 ; in Paris, 43 ;
in his family, 50; readings togeth-
er, 57; relations ou English studies,
58 ; on Spanish studies, 67; on Ital-
ian 58-66,70,71; letters to, 5 8, 61,
20
100, 102, 104, 108, 152, 153, 160 note,
190, 292, 308; letters from, 102, 110;
Review of, 237, 265; remarks on,
441. 442.
TOCQUEVILLE, ALEXIS DE, on review
writing, 239.
Translations of Mr. Prescott's works,
438-440.
TRENCH, DEAN, 442.
Trentham, visit to, 317.
True Grandeur of Nations, by Mr.
Sumner, 353.
TUCKERMAN, H., 232 note.
TUDOR, WILLIAM, 246 note.
TURNBULL, D., 341, 342.
TWISLETON, EDWARD, 324, 391.
TYTLER, PATRICK FRAZER, letters
from, 169, 180, 201; on review writ-
ing, 238, 239.
Unitarianism, 293.
VARGAS Y PONCE, manuscripts, 166.
VEGA, MARIA GONZALEZ DE LA, 400,
438.
VEYTIA, History, 195.
VICTORIA, QUEEN. See Queen Vic-
toria.
VOLTAIRE'S Charles XIL, 175, 176.
Wagers or bonds to induce work, 137,
138, 241, 245.
WAINWRIGHT, BISHOP, of the Club,
52 note; visit to, 188 and note.
WARE, GEORGE F., Secretary, 78 note.
WARE, HENRY, Senior, 13.
WARE, JOHN, of the Club, 52 note; on
Mr. Prescott's character, 87 note.
WARREN, HENRY, of the Club, 52
note.
WARREN, GENERAL JOSEPH, 404, 422.
Washington, visits at, 246, 278.
WASHINGTON, PRESIDENT, Irving's
Life of, 394; edition of his Works
by Sparks, 333.
WATSON, R., the historian, 79 note,
180, 270.
WEBSTER, DANIEL, on the " Ferdi-
nand and Isabella," 101; Senator at
Washington, 278 > on Mr. Prescott,
Senior, 426.
WEBSTER, NATHAN, 120, 220.
WELLINGTON, DUKE OF, 283, 294, 295.
WENSLEYDALE, LORD. See Parke,
Baron.
Whitebait dinner, 326.
WHITING, MARTIN, of the Club, 52
note.
WlLBERFORCE, SAMUEL. See Ox-
ford, Bishop of.
I WILLIAM OF ORANGE, 302.
458
INDEX.
WILLIAMS, E. DWIGHT, Secretary to
Mr. Prescott, F8 note.
Windsor Park, 287.
WINTHROP, FRANCIS WILLIAM, of the
Club, 52 note.
WINTHROP, ROBERT C., President of
the Massachusetts Historical So-
ciety, 430, 431.
WITHINGTON, G. R. M., Secretary to
Mr. Prescott, 78 note.
WOLF, FERDINAND, assists Mr. Pres-
cott, 268.
Women in London, none old, 297.
Wood's Hole, visit to, 177, 185.
Yuste, Diaries about Charles V. at, 251.
Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.
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