Diversions of the Echo Club  

From The Art and Popular Culture Encyclopedia

Related e

Wikipedia Wiktionary Shop Featured: Rhombicuboctahedron by Leonardo da Vinci

Diversions of the Echo Club (1873) is a book by Bayard Taylor.

Full text[1]

BAYARD TAYLOR'S

Diversions

OF

The Echo Club.

THE QOLDEN LIBRARY.

Square z6ino (uniform with the present volume), cloth extra,

2S. per Volume. Book of Clerical Anecdotes: The Humours and

Eccentricities ot ** the Cloth." Byron's Don Juan.

Emerson's Letters and Social Aims. Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers. Holmes's Autocrat of the Breakfast Table.

With an Introduction by Gborgb Augustus Sala. Holmes's Professor at the Breakfast Table. Hood's >Arhim8 and Oddities. Both Series complete

in one volume, with all the Original Illustrations. Irving's (>A/^ashington) Tales of a Traveller. Irving'8(>A/'a8hington) Tales of the Alhambra. Jesse's (Edward) Scenes and Occupations of

Country Life ; with Recollections of Natural History. Lamb's Assays of Elia. Both Series complete in one vol Leigh Hunt's Essays: A Tale for a Chimney Comer,

and other Pieces. With Portrait, and Introduction by

Edmund Ollier. Mallory's (Sir Thomas) Mori d' Arthur: The

Stories of King Arthur and of the Knights of the Round

Table. Edited by B. M. Ranking. Pascal's Provincial Letters. A New Translation,

with Historical Introduction and Notes, by T. M'Crib,

D.D., LL.D. Pope's Complete P9etical "Works. Reprinted

from the Original Editions.' Rochefoucauld's Maxims and Moral Reflec- tions. With Notes, and an Introductory Essay bySAiNTE-

Bruvb. St. Pierre's Paul and Virginia and the Indian

Cottage. Edited, with Life, by the Rev. £. Clarke. Shelley's Early Poems and Queen Mab, with

Essay by Leigh Hunt. Shelley's Later Poems. Laon and Cythna, dbc. Shelley's Posthumous Poems, the Shelley

Papers, Ac. Shelley's Prose VTorks, including A RefuUtion of

Deism, Zastrozzi, St. Irvyne, &c. White's Natural History of Selborne. Edited,

with additions, by Thomas Baown, F.LS.

CHATTO A* WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W,

DIVERSIONS

THE ECHO CLUB.

DIVERSIONS

OF

THE ECHO CLUB

By bayard TAYLOR.

A NEW EDITION.

Sontion :

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY.

1877.

CONTENTS,

PAGS

NIGHT THE FIRST • • 9

NIGHT THE SECOND 36

NIGHT THE THIRD . . . . . . -57

NIGHT THE FOURTH 80

NIGHT THE FIFTH I04

NIGHT THE SIXTH 1 28

NIGHT THE SEVENTH 150

NIGHT THE EIGHTH ... * . . I7I

DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

NIGHT THE FIRST.

|IUa*|JHF it were not that the public cherishes rather Pg lS| singular and fluctuating notions with re- "S™* gard to the private and familiar intercourse of authors, the reports which follow would need no prologue. But between the two classes of readers, one of which innocently supposes T. Percy Jones to be the strange and terrible being whom they find represented in his "Firmilian," while the other, having discovered, by a few startling disillusions, that the race of authors is Janus-faced, is sure that T. Percy Jones is the exact opposite of his poetical self, there has arisen a confusion which it may be well to correct.

The authors themselves, I am aware, are chiefly responsible for these opposite impressions. When Joaquin Miller at Niagara, standing on the brink of

to DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB. *

the American precipice, kisses his hands grandly to Canada, exclaiming " England, I thank you ! " or when Martin Farquhar Tupper, in a speech at New York, cries out with noble magnanimity, "America, be not afraid, /will protect you!" the pibllc might reasonably expect to find all poets visibly trailing their mantles in our streets. But when an eager listener, stealing behind Irving and Halleck at an evening party, found them talking of — shoe-leather! and a breathless devotee of Thackeray, sitting op- posite to him at the dinner table, saw those Delphian lips unclose only, to utter the words, "Another po- tato, if you please !" — they had revelations which might cast a dreadful suspicion over the nature ot the whole tribe of authors.

I would not have the reader imagine that the members of the Echo Club are represented by either of these extremes. They are authors, of dif- ferent ages and very unequal places in public esti- mation. It would never occur to them to seat themselves on self-constructed pyramids, and speak as if The Ages were listening; yet, like their brethren of all lands and all times, the staple of their talk is literature. What Englishmen call "the shop," is an inevitable feature of their conversation. Th^y can never come together without discussing

.

NIGHT THE FIRST. ii

the literary news of the day, the qualities of promi- nent authors, living or dead, and sometimes their own. However the enlightened listener might smile at tlie positiveness of their opinions, and the con- tradictions into which they are sometimes led in the lawless play and keen clash of the lighter intellect, he could not fail to recognize the sovereign impor- tance they attach to their art. Without lifting from their intercourse that last veil of mystery, behind which only equals are permitted to pass, I may safely try to report the mixture of sport and earnest, of satire and enthusiasm, of irreverent audacity and pure aspiration, which met and mingled at their meetings. If the reader cannot immediately sepa- rate these elements, it is no fault of mine. He is most desirous, I know, to be present at the private versions of a small society of authors, and to hear them talk as they are wont to talk when the wise heads of the world are out of ear-shot.

The character which the society assumed for a short time was entirely accidental. As one of the Chorus, I was present at the first meeting, and of course I never failed afterwards. The four authors who furnished our entertainment were not aware that I had written down, from memory, the sub- stance of the conversations, until our evenings came

I — 2

12 DiniRSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

to an end; and I have had some difHcuIty in o\y taming their permission to publish my reports. The Ancient and Galahad feared that certain poets whom they delight to honour might be annoyed, not so much at the sportive imitation of their manner, as at the possible misconception of its purpose by the public. But Zoilus and the Gannet agreed with me, that where no harm is meant none can be inflicted ; that the literature of our day is in a sad state of bewilderment and confusion, and that a few efrei*vescing powders would perhaps soothe the public stomach which has been over- dosed with startling effects.

At last the Ancient said: "So be it, then! Take the poems, but don't" bring your manuscript to us for correction ! I am quite sure you have often reported us falsely, and if your masks of names are pulled off, M'e will have that defence.'*

I have only to add that the three or four gentle- men comprising the Chorus are not authors by pro- fession. The Ancient is in the habit of dividing the race of artists into active and passive, — the latter possessing the artistic temperament, the tastes, the delights, the instincts of the race,— everything ex- cept that creative gadfly which stings to expression. In. every quality except production they are the

NIGHT THE FIRST. 13

equals of the producers, he says; and th<y are quite as necessary to the world as the active artists, since they are the first to recognize the good points of the latter, to strengthen them with warm, intelligent sympathy, and to commend them to the slower perceptions and more uncertain tastes of the mass of readers. I am certain, at least, that our presence and participation in the amusements was a gentle stimulus to the principal actors. We were their enthusiastic audience, and kept them fresh and warm to their work. I do not record our share in the conversation, for there is sufficient diversity of opinion without it; and I made no notes of it at the time.— The Nameless Reporter,

In the rear of Karl Schafer's lager-beer cellar and restaurant — which every one knows is but a block from the central part of Broadway — there is a small room, with a vaulted ceiling, which Karl calls his Loweiigriibe^ or Lions* Den. Here, in iheir Bohe- mian days, ZoyIus and the Gannet had been accus- tomed to meet, discuss literary projects, and read fragments of manuscript to each other. The Chorus, the Ancient, and young Galahad gradually fell into the same habit, and thus a little circle of six, seven, or eight members came to be formed. The room

14 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

could comfortably contain no more : it was quiet, with a dim, smoky, confidential atmosphere, and suggested Auerbach's Cellar to the Ancient, who had been in Leipzig.

Here, authors, books, magazines, and newspapers were talked about ; sometimes a manuscript poem was read by its writer; while mild potations of beer and the dreamy breath of cigars delayed the ner- vous, fidgety clattering-footed American Hours. One night they chanced upon a discussion of Morris's " Earthly Paradise," which Galahad raptu- rously admired, while the Ancient continued to draw him out, at first by guarded praise, then by critical objections to the passages which Gala- had quoted. The conversation finally took this turn : —

Galahad. Indeed, you are not just ! Tell me, have you read the whole work ?

The Ancient. Yes : I had it with me on my last trip to Havana, and read all three volumes under the most favourable auspices, — lying on deck in the shadow of a sail, with the palms and man- groves of the Bahamas floating past, in the distance. Just so I floated through the narrative poems, one after the other, admiring the story-teller's art, heartily enjoying many passages, accepting even the

^^^^

NIGHT THE FIRST. 15

unnecessary quaintness of the speech, and at first disposed to say, " Here is a genuine poet!" But I was conscious of a lack of something, which, in my lazy mood, I did not attempt to analyze. When the lines and scenes and characters began to fade in my mind (which they did almost immediately), I found that the final impression which the work left behind was very much like the Hades of the Greeks, — a gray, misty, cheerless land, full of wan- dering shadows, — ^a place where there is no sun, no clear, conscious, joyous life, where even fortunate love is sad, where hope is unknown to the heart, and there is nothing in the distance but death, and nothing after it. There had been a languid and rather agreeable sense of enjoyment ; but it was followed by a chill.

Galahad. Oh !

The Gannet. How often have I told you, Galahad, that you're too easily taken off your feet ! He's very clever, I admit; but there's a deal of trick in it, for all that. His revival of obsolete words, his imitation of Chaucer —

Galahad {impatiently). Imitation !

The Gannet. Well,— only half, and half simi- larity of talent But no writer can naturally assume a manner of speech which has long fallen into dis-

i6 DIVERSWNS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

use, even in literature : so far as he does so, he is artificial. And this artifice Morris carries into his pictures of sentiment and passion. You cease to feel with and for his characters, long before he has done with them.

Galahad. As human . beings, perhaps ; but as conceptions of beauty they have another exis- tence.

The Gannet. When I want a Greek frieze, let me have it in marble! Yes, he's a skilful workman, and a successful one, as his popularity proves. And he's lucky in producing his canned fruit after Swin- burne's curry and pepper-sauce : but it is canned, I don't say I could equal him in his own line, for that requires natural inclination as well as knack, yet I think I could give you something exactly in his style, in ten minutes.

The Ancient. Challenge him, Galahad !

The Gannet, Get me paper and pencil ! I will at least try. Now, Galahad, put up your watch; I only stipulate that you don't time me too exactly. Stay ! — take another sheet and try the same thing yourselC

(They write ; meanwhile the others talk.)

The Gannet {after twenty minutes). I have failed in time, because I began wrong. I tried to

NIGHT THE FIRST. 17

write a serious passage in Morris's manner, and my own habit of expression immediately came in as a disturbing influence. Then I gave up the plan of producing something really earnest and coherent, — that is, I kept in mind the manner, alone, and let the matter come of itself. Very little effort was required, I found : the lines arranged themselves easily enough. Now, lend me your ears : it is a passage from '* The Taming of Themistocles," in the ninth volume of the "Earthly Pwiradise"; (Reads)

" He must be holpen ; yet how help" shall I, Steeped to the lips in ancient misery, And by the newer grief apparalled ? If that I throw these ashes on mine head, Do this thing for thee, — while about my way A shadow gathers, and the piteous day. So wan and bleak for very loneliness, Turneth from sight of such untruthfulness ? " Therewith he caught an arrow from the sheaf, And brake the shaft in witlessness of grief ; But Chiton's vest, such dismal fear she had, Shook from the heart that sorely was a-drad. And she began, withouten any pause, To say : " Why break the old ^tolian laws, Send this man forth, that never harm hath done, Between the risen and the setten sun ?"

And next, they wandered to a steepy hill,

Whence all the land was lying gray and still,

2

i8 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

And not a living creature there might be, From the cold mountains to the salt, cold sea ; Only, within a little cove, one sail Shook, as it whimpered at the cruel gale, And the mast moaned from chafing of the rope ; So all was pain : they saw not any hope.

Zoi'LUS. But that is no imitation! You have copied a passage out of — out of— pshaw ! I know the poem, and I remember the lines.

The Gannet (indignantly). Out of Milton, why not say ? — ^where you'll be just as likely to find them. Now, let me hear yours, Galahad ; you were writing.

Galahad (crtishing the paper in his liand). Mine is neither one thing nor the other, — not the author s poetic dialect throughout, nor hinting of his choice of subjects. I began something, which was really my own, and then gradually ran into an echo. I think ^(?« have hit upon the true method; and we must try again, since we know it.

The Gannet. Why not try others, — a dozen of them ? By Jove, I should like some mere gym- nastics, after the heavy prose IVe been writing! And you, too, Galahad, and the Ancient (if his ponderous dignity does n't prevent it) ; and here 's Zollus, the very fellow for such a diversion I We

NIGHT THE FIRST. ig

can come together, nere, and be a private, secret club of Parodists,— of Echoes, — of Iconoclasts, — of—

The Ancient. Of irreverent satirists, I fear. That would b.e a new kind of a Hainbimd, indeed ; but, after all, it need not be ill-natured. At least, to insure yourselves against relapsing into mere burlesque and incidental depreciation, — which is a tempting, but nearly always a fatal course, for young writers, — I must be present. My indifferent- ism, as you call it, which sometimes provokes you when I cannot share all your raptures, may do good service in keeping you from rushing into the oppo- site extreme. As for taking part in the work, I won't promise to do much. You know I am a man of uncertain impulses, and can get nothing out of myself by force of resolution.

Omnes. O, you must take part! It will be capital sport.

The Ancient {deliberately, between ilie whiffs of his cigar), . First of all, let us clearly understand what is to be done. To undertake parodies, as the word is generally comprehended, — that is, to make a close imitation of some particular poem, though it should be characteristic of the author, — ^would be rather a flat business. Even the Brothers Smith

2 — 2

20 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

and Bon Gaultier, admirable as they are, stuck too closely to selected models ; and Phebe Cary, who has written the best American parodies, did the same thing. I think the Gannet has discovered something altogether more original and satisfac- tory, — a simple echo of the author's tone and man- ner. The choice of a subject gives another chance of fun.

{He takes up the Can net's imitation and looks over it)

Here the dialect and movement and atmosphere are suggested ; the exaggeration is neither coarse .nor extreme, and the comical effect seems to lie mainly in the circumstance that it w a wilful imi- tation. If we were to find the passage in one of Morris's poems, we might think it carelessly written, somewhat obscure, but still in the same key with what precedes and follows it. Possibly, nay, almost certainly, it would not amuse us at all ; but just now I noticed that even Galahad could not help laughing. A diversion of this sort is less a labour and more a higher and finer recreation of the mind, than the mechanical setting of some given poem, line by line, to a ladicrous subject, like those end- less and generally stupid parodies of Longfellow's

NIGHT THE FIRST. 21

" Excelsior" and Emerson's " Brahma." For Hea- ven's — no, Homer's — sake, let us not fall into that vein!

The Gannet. Thou speakest well.

Galahad. But how shall we select the authors? And shall I be required to make my own demigods ridiculous i

ZoiLUS. Let me prove to you, by one of your own demigods, that nothing can be either sublime or ridiculous. Poetry is the Brahma of literature, —above all, pervading all, self-existent, though so few find her (and men of buainess reckon ill who leave her out), and therefore quite unmoved by any- thing we may do. Don't you remember the lines : —

• ' Far or forgot to me is near.

Shadow and sunlight are the same ; The vanished gods to me appear. And one to me are shame and fame."

The Ancient. You are right, Zoilus, in spite of your sarcasm. Besides, it is an evidence of a poet's distinct individuality, when he can be amus- ingly imitated. We can only make those the ob- jects of our fun whose manner or dialect stamps itself so deeply into our minds that a new cast can be taken. We are sporting around great, and some- times little names, like birds or cats or lizards

22 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

around the feet, and over the shoulders, and on the heads of statues. Now, there *s an idea for a poem, Galahad. But, seriously, how would you imitate PoUok's " Course of Time," or Young's " Night Thoughts," or Blair's "Grave," or any other of those masses of words, which are too ponderous for poetry and too respectable for absurdity ! Either extreme will do for us, excellence or imbecility; but it must have a distinct, pronounced cha- racter.

The Gannet. Come, now ! I *m eager for another trial.

The Ancient. Let us each write the names of three or four poets on separate slips of paper, and throw them into my hat ; then let each draw out one slip as his model for to-night. Thus there will be no clashing of tastes or inclinations, and our powers of imitation will be more fairly tested.

{They write three names apiece, the CHORUS taking part. Then all are thrown into THE ANCIENT'S hat and shaken i4p together)

Galahad (drawing), Robert Browning.

The Gannet. So is mine.

ZoiLUS. Edgar A. Foe.

The Ancient. Some of us have written the

NIGHT THE FIRST. 23

same names. Well, let it be so to-night. If we find the experiment diverting, we can easily avoid any such repetition next time. Moreover, Browning alone will challenge echoes from all of us ; and I am curious to see whether the several imitations will reflect the same characteristics of his style. It will, at least, show whether his stamp upon each mind has any common likeness to the original.

The Gannet. A good idea! But Zoilus is already possessed by the spirit of Poe ; not, I hope in the manner of Dr. Garth Wilkinson of London, whose volume of poems dictated by the spirits of dead authors is the most astonishing collection I ever saw. He makes Foe's " wet locks" rhyme to his "fetlocks!'* It is even worse than Harris's " Epic of the Starry Heavens," dictated to him in forty-eight hours by Dante. By-the-by, we have a good -chance to test this matter of possession; the suggestion nimbly and sweetly recommends it- self to my fancy. But since I was your pioneer to-night, 1*11 even rest until Zoilus has finished ; then, let us all start fairly.

Zoir.US {a feiu minutes later). If this is at all good, it is not because of labour. I had an easier task than the Gannet. {Reads)

24 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

THE PROMISSORY NOTE.

In the lonesome latter years,

(Fatal years !) To the dropping of my tears Danced the mad and mystic spheres In a rounded, reeling rune, 'Neath the moon, To the dripping and the dropping of my tears.

Ah, my soul is swathed in gloom,

(Ulalume !) In a dim Titanic tomb, For my gaunt and gloomy soul Ponders o'er the penal scroll, 0*er the parchment (not a rhyme). Out of place, — out of time, — I am shredded, shorn, unshifty,

(O, the fifty !) And the days have passed, the three,

Over me ! And the debit and the credit are as one to him and me I

'Tvvas the random runes I wrote At the bottom of the note

(Wrote, and freely

Gave to Greeley), In the middle of the night, In the mellow, moonless night. When the stars were out of sight, Wben ray pulses, like a knell,

(Israfel !) Danced with dim and dying fays O'er the ruins of my days,

NIGHT THE FIRST. 23

O'er the dimeless, timeless days, When the fifty, drawn at thirty. Seeming thrifty, yet the dirty Lucre of the market, was the most that I could raise !

Fiends controlled it, (Let him hold it !) Devils held for m^ the inkstand and the pen ; Now the days of grace are o'er,

(Ah, Lenore !) I am but as other men : What is time, time, time. To my rare and runic rhyme. To my random, reeling rhyme, By the sands along the shore. Where the tempest whispers, " Pay him !" and I answer

" Nevermore !*'

Galahad. What do you mean by the reference to Greeley ?

ZOiLUS. I thought everybody had heard that Greeley's only autograph of Poe was a signature to a promissory note for fifty dollars. He offers to sell it for half the money. Now, I don't mean to be wicked, and to do nothing with the dead except bone 'em, but when such a cue pops into one's mind, what is one to do }

The Ancient. O, I think you're still within decent limits ! There was a congenital twist about poor Poe. We can't entirely condone his faults, yet we stretch our charity so as to cover as much

26 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

as possible. His poetry has a hectic flush, a strange, fascinating, narcotic quality, which belongs to him alone. Baudelaire and Swinburne after him have been trying to surpass him by increasing the dose ; but his Muse is the natural Pythia, inheriting her convulsions, while they eat all sorts of insane roots to produce theirs.

Galahad {eagerly). Did you ever know him }

The Ancient. I met him two or three times, heard him lecture once (his enunciation was exqui- site), and saw him now and then in Broadway, — enough to satisfy me that there were two men in him : one, a refined gentleman, an aspiring soul, an artist among those who had little sense of literary art ; the other —

ZoiLUS. Go on !

The Ancient. " Built his nest with the birds of night." No more of that ! Now let us all invoke the demigod, Browning.

Galahad. It will be a task.

ZoiLUS. I don*t think so ; it's even simpler than what we've done. Why, Browning's manner is as distinctly his own as Carlyle's, and sometimes as wilfully artificial. In fact, he is so peculiarly him- self that no younger poet has dared to imitate his fashion of speech, although many a one tries to

NIGHT THE FIRST. 2^

follow him in the choice and treatment of subjects. Browning is the most dramatic of poets since Shakes- peare ; don't you think so, Ancient ?

The Ancient. In everything but language, perhaps. I should prefer to call him a psycholo- gist. His subtile studies of all varieties of cha- racter are wonderful, if you look at ihe substance only; but every one of them, from first to last, speaks with the voice of Browning. Take "The Ring and the Book," for instance, — and I consider it one of the most original and excellent poems in the English language, — and in each of the twelve divisions you will find exactly the same interrup- tions, parentheses, ellipses, the same coinage of illustration and play of recondite hints under what is expressed, I should guess that he writes very rapidly, and concerns himself little with any objec- tive theories of art. You ought to co})y his manner easily enough.

ZOYI^US. I can. I have, caught the idea already. {He takes a pencil and writes rapidly. Galahad and the G AN NET also begin to write ^ but slowly)

The Chorus (to the Ancient). Why don't you begin }

The Ancient.. I was deliberatiing ; what a range of forms there is ! He is as incjxhaustible as

28 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Raphael, and he always expresses the same sense of satisfaction in his work. Well,, anything will do for a subject, ( Writes)

ZoiLUS {after a few minutes). Hearken ! I must read at once, or I shall go on writing for ever ; it bewilders me. {Reads)

Who wlllsy may hear Sordello's story told

By Robert Browning: warm ? (you ask) or cold?

But just so much as seemeth to enhance —

The start being granted, onward goes the dance

To its own music — the poem's inward sense ;

So, by its verity .... nay, no pretence

Avails your self-created bards, and thus

By just the chance of half a hair to us,

If understood .... but what the odds to you,

Who, with no obligations to pursue

Scant tracks of thought, if such, indeed, there be

In this one poem, — stay, my friend, and see

Whether you note that creamy tint of flesh.

Softer than bivalve pink, impearled and fresh,

Just where the small o' the back goes curving down

To orbic muscles .... ha ! that sidelong frown

Pursing the eye, and folded, deeply cleft

r the nostril's edge, as though contempt were left

Just o'er the line that bounds indifference. • • • •

But here's the test of any closer sense

(You follow me ?) such as I started with ;

And there be minds that seek the very p.»*h.

Crowd close, bore deep, push far, and reach the light

Through league-long tunnels —

NIGHT THE FIRST. tg

Galahad (futerrupting). But that is Sordello you're reading !

ZoiLUS. Yes, mine. I am one of the few who have bored their way through that amazing work. Browning's " Sordello" (if you ever read it, you will remember) begins with something about "Penta- polin o' the Naked Arm." It is not any particular passage, but the manner of the whole poem which I've tried to reproduce ; a little exaggerated, to be sure, but not much. Now, I call this perplexity, not profundity. Wasn't it the Swedish poet, Teg- ner, who said, " The obscurely uttered is the ob- scurely thought ?"

The Ancient. Yes; and it is true in regard to poetry, however the case may be with metaphy- sics. But we have a right to be vexed with Brown- ing, when, in the dedioatory letter to the new edition of " Sordello," he says that he had taken pains to make the work something " which the many mighty instead of what the few must like," but, after all, did not choose to publish the revised copy. There is a touch of arrogance in this expression which I should rather not have encountered. The " must'* which he flings at the few is far more offensive than utter indifference to all readers would have been ; and not even those few can make us accept " Sor-

30 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

dello." However, miiltum creavit is as good a ple& as multtnn dilexit Browning has a royal brain, and we owe him too much to bear malice against him. Only, we must not encourage our masters in abso- lute rule, or they will become tyrants.

ZoiLUS. I don't acknowledge any masters !

The Ancient. We all know that. Now, Gala- had, what have you done ?

Galahad (^reads) : —

BY THE SEA. {Mutatis mutandis,)

I.

Is it life or is it death ?

A whiff of the cool salt scum, As the whole sea puffed its breath

Against you, — blind and dumb. This way it answereth,

II. Nearer the sands it shows

Spotted and leprous tints; But stay! yon fisher knows

Rock-tokens, which evince How high the tide arose.

III. How high ? In you and me

'T was falling then, I think; Open your heart's eyes, see

From just so slight a chink The chasm that now must be.

NIGHT THE FIRST. y

IV.

You sighed and shivered then,

Blue ecstasies of June Around you, shouts of fishermen,

Sharp wings of sea-gulls, soon To dip — the clock struck ten!

V.

Was it the cup too full,

To carry it you grew Too nervous, the wine's hue too dufl.

(Dulness, misjudged, untrue !) Love's flower unfit to cull ? •

VI.

You should have held me fast

One moment, stopped my pace, Crushed down the feeble, vast

Suggestions of embrace. And so be crowned at last.

VII.

But now! .... Bare-legged and brown

Bait-diggers delve the sand, Tramp i* the sunshine down

Burnt-ochre vestured land. And yonder stares the town.

VIII.

A heron screams! I shut

This book of scurf and scum. Its final page uncut ;

The sea-beast, blind and dumb, Done with his bellowing ? All but!

The Gannet. It seems we have all hit upon

Ji DIVERSIONS Of" THE ECHO CVlB.

the obvious characteristics, especially those which are most confusing. There is something very like that in the *^ Dramatis Persona^* or there seems to be. Now, I wonder how my attempt will strike you ? {Reads)

ANGELO ORDERS HIS DINNER.

I, Angelo, obese, black-garmented,

Respectable, much in demand, well fed

With mine own larder's dainties, — where, indeed,

Such cakes of myrrh or fine alyssum seed,

Thin as a mallow-leaf, embrowned o* the top.

Which, cracking, lets the ropy, trickling drop

Of sweetness touch your tongue, or potted nests

Which my recondite recipe invests

With cold conglomerate tidbits— ah, the bill!

(You say,) but given it were mine to fill

My chests, the case so put were yours, well say,

(This counter, here, your post, as mine to-day,)

And you've an eye to luxuries, what harm

In smoothing down your palate with the charm

Yourself concocted ? There we issue take;

And see ! as thus across the rim I. break

This puffy paunch of glazed embroidered cake.

So breaks, through use, the lust of watering chaps

And craveth plainness: do I so? Perhaps;

But that's my secret Find me such a man

As Lippo yonder, built upon the plan

Of heavy storage, double-na veiled, fat

From his own giblets' oils, an Ararat

Uplift o'er water, sucking rosy draughts

From Noah's vineyard, — , . . crisp, enticing waftt

NIGHT THE FIRST. 3s

Yon kitchen now emits, which to your sense Somewhat abate the fear of old events, Qualms to the stomach, — I, you see, am slow Unnecessary duties to forego, — You understand ? A venison haunch, haut gouty Ducks that in Cimbrian olives mildly stew. And sprigs of anise, might one's teeth provoke To taste, and so we wear the complex yoke Just as it suits, — my liking, I confess. More to receive, and to partake no less. Still more obese, while through thick adipose Sensation shoots, from testing tongue to toes Far-off, dim-conscious, at the body's verge, Where the froth- whispers of its waves emerge On the untasting sand. Stay, now I a seat Is bare : I, Angelo, will sit and eat.

The Chorus. There's no mistaking any of them!

The Ancient. And yet what a wealth of forms and moods there is left! You have only touched the poet on two or three of his thousand sides. Whoever should hear these imitations first, and then take up the original works, would recog- nize certain fashions here and there, but he would be wholly unprepared for the special best qualities of Browning.

The Chorus. How, then, havej^ou fared ?

The Ancient. Tm afraid IVe violated the very law I laid down at the beginning. But I

34 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

took the first notion that came into my head, and I could not possi}?ly make it either all imitation, or all burlesque. However, hear, and then punish me as you like. {Reads)

ON THE TRACK.

Where the crags are close, and the railway-curve

Begins to swerve From its straight-shot course i' the level plain

To the hills again. At the end of the twilight, when you mark

The denser dark

Blown by the wind from the heights, that make

A cold, coiled snake Round the shuddering ^\ orld, as a Midgards-orm-

like, sinuous form, — With scant-cut hosen, jacket in hands,

The small boy stands,

Clipt by the iron ways, shiny and straight,

You see him wait, 'Twixt the coming thunder and the rock.

To fend the shock. As a mite should stay, with its wriggling force,

A planet's course. Even as he dances, leaps, and stoops.

The blaok train swoops Up from the level : wave jacket, cry I

Must all then die ? Sweating, the small hoy smiles again ;

He has stopped the train I

Galahad. Well, that somehow suggests to me

NIGHT THE FIRST. 35

two poems : his " Love among the Ruins," and the " Incident of the French Camp," yet it is not an imitation of either. I should only apply to it the same criticism as to my own, — that it gives no hint of Browning's subtile and ingenious way of dealing with the simplest subjects. He seems always to seek some other than the ordinary and natural point of view. I believe he could change " Mother Hubbard" and "Kits, cats, sacks, and wives" into profound psychological poems.

The Ancient. Now, why didn't you say that before we began } I might have made, at least, a more grotesque failure. But, O Gambrinus! our glasses have been empty this hour. Ring for the waiter, Galahad ; let us refresh our wearied virtue, and depart !

Omnes {touching glasses). To be continued !

[Exeunt,

NIGHT THE SECOND.

HHE friends came together again in the Lion's Den, a little earlier than their wont ; but they did not immediately take up the chief diversion of the evening. In intellectual, as in physi- cal acrobatics, the joints must be gradually made flexible, and the muscles warm and elastic, by lightei feats ; so the conversation began as mere skylarking and mutual chaffing, as empty and evanescent, when you attempt to catch it, a$ the foam-ripples on a swift stream. But Galahad had something on his mind ; he had again read portions of the " Earthly Paradise," and insisted that the atmosphere of the poems was not gray and overcast, but charged with a golden, luminous mist, like that of the Indian summer. Finally, he asked the Ancient, —

"Granting the force of your impression, might not much of it come from some want of harmony between your mood or temper of mind and the

NIGHT THE SECOND. 37

author's? In, that case, it would not be abstractly just.

The Ancient. I don't think that we often can be "abstractly just" towards contemporary poets; we either exalt or abase them too much. For we and they breathe either the same or oppo- site currents in the intellectual atmosphere of the time, and there can be no impartial estimate until those winds have blown over. This is precisely the reason why you sometimes think me indifferent, when I am only trying to shove myself as far off as the next generation ; at least, to get a little outside of the fashions and whims and prejudices of this day. American authors, and also their publishers, are often charged with an over-concern for the opinion of the English literary journals. I think their interest quite natural —

ZoiLUS {with energy). Now, you surely are not going to justify that sycophantic respect for the judgment of men who know so much less than we do of our own literature I

The Ancient. I condemn all sycophancy even to the great, triumphant, overwhelming American spirit ! But, until we have literary criticism of a more purely objective character in this country, — until our critics learn to separate their personal

38 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

testes and theories from their estimate of the exe- cutive and artistic quality of the author ; or, which amounts to the same thing, to set this quality, this creative principle, higher than the range of themes and opinions, — the author will look to the judgment of critics, whose distance and whose very want of acquaintance with our prejudices and passions assure him of a certain amount of impartiality. The feeling is reciprocal ; I venture to say that an intelligent American criticism has more weight with an English author than that of one of his own reviews.

ZOiLUS. Do you mean to say that we have no genuine criticism }

The Ancient. By no means ; we have some that is admirable. But it is only recognized at its true value by a very small class ; the great reading public is blissfully ignorant of its existence. It adds to the confusion, that many of our writers have no definite ideas of literary excellence apart from the effect which immediately follows their work ; and readers are thus actually misled by those who should guide them. Why, a year ago, the most popular book in the whole country was one which does not even belong to literature ; and the most popular poem of late years was written,

NIGHT THE SECOND. 39

not from a poetic, but from a high moral inspira- tion ! Somebody must set up a true aesthetic standard ; it is high time this were done, and a better criticism must be the first step.

The Gannet. Why don't you undertake it yourself ?

The Ancient. I'm too fond of comfort. Think

what a hornet's-nest I should thrust my hand into !

Moreover, I doubt whether one could force such

interests beyond their natural growth ; we are still

suffering from the intellectual demoralization which

the war left behind it. But where's the hat i We

are spoiling ourselves by all this serious prose. Let

us throw in a few more names, and try our luck

again.

{They draw tJte lots as before^)

The Gannet. John Keats ! How shall I wear his mantle ?

ZoiLUS. I'm crushed, buried under an avalanche of, — ^well, not much, after all. Don't ask me who it is, until I try my hand. You would confuse me with your laughter.

The Ancient. I shall keep mine specially for you, Zoilus.

Galahad. I have drawn one of the names I wrote myself; but you have already so demoralized

40 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

me, that I will try to parody him as heartily as if I did n't like his poetry.

The Ancient. You are getting on. But I think the Gannet ought to draw another name ; it is best not to go back of our own day and genera- tion. I propose that we limit ourselves to the poets who stand nearer to our own minds, under whom, or beside whom, or above whom (as each chooses to estimate himself), we have grown and are now growing. The further we withdraw from this atmosphere, the more artificial must our imita- tions be. •

The Gannet. Let it pass this once, I pray thee, for I have caught my idea ! But, even taking your limitation, who is nearer us than Keats ? Not alone in his own person, though there he stands among us ; he is in Tennyson, in Morris, in Swin- burne, and, more remotely, in the earlier poems of Browning and Lowell, besides a host of small rhymers. He still approaches us, while Shelley and Byron withdraw. I think it's a fair exception ; and if you won't admit it, I'll take the sense of the company.

Omnes. Go on ! {All write biisily for fifteen minutes ^ except The

Ancient, wJw talks in a lower tone with The

Chorus.)

NIGHT THE SECOND. 41

The Gannet {looking up). Zoilus, you were ready first.

ZoiLUS. Could you guess whom I represent ?

The Gannet. Tupper >

Zo'iLUS. He .? he is his own best parody. No ; it is a lyrical inanity, which once Was tolerably famous. The Ancient's rule as to what is properly parodiable does n't apply here ; for it is neither excellent nor imbecile. I think I had the right to reject the name, but I have tried to see whether a respectable jingle of words, expressing ordinary and highly proper feelings, can be so imitated as to be recognized. Here it is. (Reads)

OBITUARY. On the Death of the Rev. Elijah W. Batey,

Ay, bear him to his sainted rest,

Ye mourners, but be calm ! Instead of dirge and sable crest.

Raise ye thanksgiving psalm ! For he was old and full of years.

The grandsire of your souls : Then check ye now your heaving tears,

And quench the sigh that rolls 1

Ye heard him from yon pulpit preach,

For sixty years and more. Still battering with unwearied speech

The ceih'ng, pews, and floor :

42 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

As, hour by hour, his periods fell,

Your pious hopes arose, And each one murmured, " All is well,"

Long ere the sermon's close.

Think ye the voice that spake so long

Can anywhere be dumb ? Before him went a goodly throng.

And wait for him to come. He preaches still in other spheres,

To saved and patient souls ; Then, mourners, check your heaving tears,

And quench the sigh that rolls !

Omnes {shouting), Mrs. Sigourney !

ZoiLUS. I have succeeded, then ! But, O my friends, is the success a thing over which I should rejoice } Do not, I beg of you, do not congratulate me !

Galahad. Come, now, don't abuse good old Mother Sigourney ! for a long time she was almost our only woman-poet ; and I insist that she was not a mere echo of Felicia Hemans.

ZoiLUS (ironically). Of course not ! None but herself could ever have written that exquisite ori- ginal poem, "On Finding a Shred of Linen." One passage I can never forget : —

" Methinks I scan Some idiosyncrasy, which marks thee out A defunct pillow-case."

NIGHT THE SECOND. 43

Galahad. You are incorrigible; but we wait for the Gannet and the idea he has caught.

The Gannet. It was better in anticipation than it seems after execution. However, Keats is too dainty a spirit to be possessed in a few minutes. {Reads)

ODE ON A JAR OF PICKLES.

A sweet, acidulous, down-reaching thrill

Pervades my sense : I seem to see or hear The lushy garden-grounds of Greenwich Hill

In autumn, when the crispy leaves are sere : And odours haunt me of remotest spice

From the Levant or musky-aired Cathay, Or from the saffron-fields of Jericho, Where everything is nice :

The more I sniff, the more I swoon away, And what else mortal palate craves, forego.

II.

Odours unsmelled are keen, but those I smell

Are keener ; wherefore let me sniff again ! Enticing walnuts, I have known ye well

In youth, when pickles were a passing pain ; Unwitting youth, that craves the candy stem.

And sugar-plums to olives doth prefer, And even licks the pots of marmalade

When sweetness clings to them :

But now I dream of ambergris and myrrh, Tasting these walnuts in the poplar shade.

44 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

IIL

Lo ! hoarded coolness in the heart of noon,

Plucked with its dew, the cucumber is here. As to the Dryad's parching lips a boon,

And crescent bean-pods, unto Bacchus dear ; And, last of all, the pepper's pungent globe.

The scarlet dwelling of the sylph of fire. Provoking purple draughts ; and, surfeited, I cast my trailing robe

O'er my pale feet, touch up my tuneless lyre, And twist the Delphic wreath to suit my head.

IV.

Here shall my tongue in other wise be sotlred

Than fretful men's in parched and palsied days ; And, by the mid-May's dusky leaves embowered.

Forget the fruitful blame, the scanty praise. No sweets to them who sweet themselves were born,

Whose natures ooze with lucent saccharine ; Who, with sad repetition soothly cloyed, The lemon-tinted mom

Enjoy, and find acetic twilight fine : Wake I, or sleep ? The pickle-jar is void.

ZoiLUS. Not to be mistaken ; but you have, almost stepped over the bounds of our plan. Those two odes of Keats are too immediately suggested, though I find that only tvvo lines are actually parodied. I agree with the Ancient ; let us stick to the authors of our own day! Galahad, you

NIGHT THE SECOND. 45

look mysterious ; are we to guess your singer from the echo ?

Galahad. Are you all ready to hear me chant in rare and rhythmic redundancy, the viciousness of virtue ?

The Chorus. O, Swinburne! chant away I

Galahad {reads) : —

THE LAY OF MACARONL

As a wave that steals when the winds are stormy

From creek to cove of the curving shore, Buffeted, blown, and broken before me.

Scattered and spread to its sunlit core : As a dove that dips in the dark of maples

To sip the sweetness of shelter and shade, I kneel in thy nimbus, O noon of Naples,

I bathe in thine beauty, by thee embayed.

What is it ails me that I should sing of her ?

The queen of the flashes and flames that were I Yea, I have felt the shuddering sting of her.

The" flower-sweet throat and the hands of her ! I have swayed and sung to the sound of her psalters,

I have danced her dances of dizzy delight, I have hallowed mine hair to the horns of her altars,

Between the nightingale's song and the night ! What is it, Queen, that now I should do for thee ?

What is it now I should ask at thine hands ? Blow of the trumpets thine children once blew for thee

Break from thine feet and thine bosom the bands ?

46 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Nay, as sweet as the songs of Leone Leoni, .

And gay as her garments of gem-sprinkled gold, She gives me mellifluous, mild macaroni.

The choice of her children when cheeses are old 1

And over me hover, as if by the wings of it, Frayed in the furnace by flame that is fleet.

The curious coils and the strenuous strings of it,

^ Dropping, diminishing down, as I eat :

Lo ! and the beautiful Queen, as she brings of it, Lifts me the links of the limitless chain.

Bidding mine mouth chant the splendidest things of it, Out of the wealth of my wonderful brain !

Behold ! I have done it : my stomach is smitten

With sweets of the surfeit her hands have unrolled. Italia, mine cheeks with thine kisses are bitten :

I am broken with beauty, stabbed, slaughtered, and sold ! No man of thy millions is more macaronied,

Save mighty Mazzini, than musical Me : The souls of the Ages shall stand as astonied,

And faint in the flame I am fanning for thee !

The Ancient (laughing), O Galahad, I can fancy your later remorse. It is not a year since you were absolutely Swinburne-mad, and I hardly dared, in your presence, to object even to " Anac- toria " and " Dolores." I would not encourage you, then, for I saw you were carried away by the wild rush of the rhythm, and the sparkle of epithets which were partly new and seemed wholly splen- did ; but now I will confess to you that as a purely

f

NIGHT THE SECOND. AT

rhythmical genius I look on Swinburne as a phe- nomenon in literature.

Galahad (eagerly). Then you admit that he is great ?

The Ancient. Not as you mean. I have been waiting for his ferment to settle, as in the case of Keats and Shelley ; but there are no signs of it in his last volume. How splendidly the mind of Keats precipitated its crudity and redundancy, and clarified into the pure wine of " Hyperion !" In Shelley's case the process was slower, but it was steadily going on ; you will find the same thing in Schiller, in Dryden, and many other poets, there- fore I mean to reserve my judgment in Swinburne's case, and wait, at least until his next work is pub- lished. Meanwhile, I grant that he has enriched our English lyric poetry with some new and admir- able forms.

The Gannet. He has certainly made a "sensa- tion " in the literary world ; does that indicate nothing }

The Ancient. That depends. I declare it seems to me as if the general taste were not quite healthy. To a very large class reading has become a form of lazy luxury, and such readers are not satisfied without a new great poet, every four or

48 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

five years. Then, too, there has been an amazing deal of trash written about the coming authors, — what they should be, how they must write, and the like; and so those luxurious readers are all the time believing they have discovered one of the tribe. Why, let a man take a thought as old as Confucius; and put it into some strange, jerky, con- vulsed form, and you will immediately hear the cry, " How wonderful ! how original !'* You all remem- ber the case of Alexander Smith ; it seems incre- dible, now, that the simulated passion and forced sentiment of his " Life-Drama " should have been accepted as real, yet, because of this book, he was hailed as a second Shakespeare. This hunger of the luxurious reader for new favours is a dangerous thing for young poets.

ZOiLUS. I almost think I hear my own voice. We don't often agree so thoroughly.

The Ancient. So much the better. I wonder if you'll be as well satisfied with the task I have in store for you ; here is the name {Giving him the slip of paper),

ZoiLUS. Emerson ! I think I can guess why.

The Ancient. Yes, I remember what you wrote when "Brahma" was first published, and what you said to Galahad the other evening. I

NIGHT THE SECOND. 49

confess I was amazed, at the time, that the news- . papers should so innocently betray their ignorance. There was a universal cry of " incomprehensible 1" when the meaning of the poem was perfectly plain. In fact there are few authors so transparently clear, barring a few idiosyncrasies of expression, which one soon learns, as just Emerson.

Zo'iLUS. Then explain to me those lines from

• ' Alphonso of Castile :"—

" Hear you- then, celestial fellows ! Fits not to be over-zealous ; Steads not to work on the clean jump, And wine and brains perpetual pump I"

The Ancient. That is simply baldness of language (which Emerson sometimes mistakes for humour), not obscurity. I will not explain it! Read the whole poem over again, and I'm sure you will not need to ask me. But now, to your work ! Who will draw again }

The Gannet {drawing). Ha! A friend, this time ; and I wish he were here with us. Nobody would take more kindly to our fun than he.

Galahad. I shall try no more, to-night. My imitation of Swinburne has exhausted me. I felt, while writing, as Zoilus did when he was imitating Browning — as if I could have gone on and on for

4

so DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ever ! Really there is some sort of possession or demoniac influence in these experiments. They , fascinate me, and yet I feel as if a spirit, foreign to my own, had seized me.

The Ancient. Take another cigar ! I wish we had the Meleager, or the Farnese torso, here ; five minutes of either would surround you with a dif- ferent atmosphere. I know precisely how it affects you. Thirty years ago — O Tempus Edax, must I say thirty ? — when I dreamed hot dreams of fame, and walked the streets in a mild delirium, pondering over the great and godlike powers pent within me, I had the same chills and fevers. I'm not laughing at you, my dear Galahad ; God forbid ! I only pray that there may be more vitality in the seeds which your dreams cover, than in mine. Waiter ! Our glasses are empty. (ZoiXUS and the Gannet continue to write : mean-

timey fresh glasses of beer are brought^ and there

is a brief silence)

ZoiLUS. I suspect the Ancient will want to

knock me on the head for this. {Reads)

ALL OR NOTHING.

Whoso answers my questions

Knowetli more than me ;

Hunger is but knowledge In a less degree :

NIGHT THE SECOND. ~ 51

Prophet, priest, and poet

Oft prevaricate, And the surest sentence

Hath the greatest weight

Wiien upon my gaiters

Drops, the morning dew, Somewhat of Lifers riddle

Soaks my spirit through. I am buskined by the goddess

Of Monadnock's crest, *

And my wings extended

Touch the East and West

Or ever coal was hardened

In the cells of earth, Or flowed the founts of Bourbon,

Lo ! I had my birth. I am crowned coeval

With the Saurian eggs, And my fancy firmly

Stands on its own legs.

Wouldst thou know the secret

Of the barberry-bush, Catch the slippery whistle

Of the moulting thrush, Dance upon the mushrooms,

Dive beneath the sea. Or anything else remarkable,

Thou must follow me !

The Ancient. Well, you have read somewhat

4—2

52 DIVERSIONS €F THE ECHO CLUB.

more than I imagined, Zoilus. This is a fair imita-' tion of the manner of some of Emerson's earlier poems ; but you may take heart, Galahad, if you fear the power of association, for not one of the inimitable, imperishable passages has been sug- gested.

Zoi'LUS. Now, seriously, do you mean to say that there are such ?

The ANtiENT.

" Still on the seeds of all he made The rose of beauty burns ; Through times that wear, and forms that fade, Immortal youth returns."

Galahad (drawing a long breath). How beauti- ful !

The Ancient.

" Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, * Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of Beauty there, And the ripples in rhyme the oar forsalic,"

ZoiLUS. Peccavi !

The Ancient. Then I will lock up my half- unbolted thunders. The Master does not need my vindication ; and I should do him a poor service by trying to drive any one towards the recognition of

NIGHT THE SECOND. 53

his deserts, when all who think for themselves must come, sooner or later, to know him.

The Gannet. But I never saw those stanzas !

The Ancient. Yet they are printed for all the world. The secret is simply this: Emerson cut from his limbs, long ago, the old theological fetters, as every independent thinker must Those who run along in the ruts made by their grandfathers, unable to appreciate the exquisite fibre of his intellect, the broad and grand eclecticism of his taste, suspect a heresy in every sentence which they are too coarsely textured to understand. No man of our day habitually lives in a purer region of thought. ^

Zoi'LUS {looking at his watch). Now, we must know what the Gannet has been doing.

The Gannet. My name was Edmund Clarence Stedman.

The Ancient. One of the younger tribes, with some of whom I'm not so familiar. I have caught several of his "fugitives," in their flight, finding them of the kind that catch and hang somewhere, instead of being blowil quietly on until they pass for ever out of the world. There's a fine masculine vibra- tion in his lines : he sings in the major key, which young poets generally do not. I'd be willing to bet

54 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

that your imitation has a sportive, not a solemn, character.

The Gannet. Why, in spite of your disclaimer, you're not so ignorant. Your guess is right : there- fore, listen ! {Reads.)

THE GOLD-ROOM. An Idyl.

They come from mansions far up town,

And from their country villas. And some, Chary bdis' gulf whirls down.

And some fall into Scylla's. Lo ! here young Paris climbs the stairs

As if their slope were Ida's, And here his golden touch declares

The ass's ears of Midas.

It seems a Bacchic, brawling rout

To every business-scorner. But such, methinks, must be an " out,*

Or has not made a " corner." In me the rhythmic gush revives ;

I feel a classic passion : We, also, lead Arcadian lives.

Though in a Broad-Street fashion. Old Battos, here, 's a leading bull.

And Diomed a bear is, And near them, shearing bankers' wool.

Strides the Tiltonian Chans ;

NIGHT THE SECOND. 55

And Atys, there, has gone to smash,

His every bill protested, While Cleon's eyes with comfort flash, —

/ have his funds invested !

Mehercle ! 'tis the same thing yet

As in the days of Pindar : The Isthmian race, the dust and sweat,

The prize — why, what's to hinder ? And if I twang my lyre at times.

They did so then, I reckon ; That man's the best at modern rhymes

Whom you can draw a check on !

Omnes. {clapping their hands). Bravo !

The Ancient. To think of Stedman's being the only voice in our literature which comes out of the business crowds of the whole country ! The man who can spend his days in a purely material atmos- phere, and sing at night, has genuine pluck in him. It's enough to make any green poet, who wails about the cruel world, and the harsh realities of life, and the beautiful realm of the ideal, ashamed of himself !

Galahad {annoyed). You don't mean as much as you say ! Every poet, green or not, must have faith in an ideal.

The Ancient {gently). Ay, but if it make him

" Pamper the coward heart With feelings all too delicate for use,**

as Coleridge translates Schiller, it is a -deceit and a

S6 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

snare to him. Your Shakespeare, Dante, Cervantes, Goethe, were made of different clay.

ZoiLUS. Here's to their sublime Shades, where- ever they may be wandering ! Out, to the last drop ! We are in the small hours ; the Donner- wetters ! are all silent in the saloon, and Karl Schafer is probably snoring over his counter, wait- ing for us. Come ! \Exeimt

NIGHT THE THIRD.

IPS^SIHEN the sportive tilting with light laixces, Kttvffl the reciprocal, good-natured chaffing, in '^^®™* which the members of the Club were wont to indulge on coming together, had subsided, the conversation took the following turn :

Zoi'LUS (to The Ancient). IVe been considering what you said the last time, about the prevalent literary taste not being entirely healthy. How far w-oruld you apply that verdict to the authors } Their relative popularity is your only gauge for the cha- racters of the readers.

The Ancient. I don't think I had any individual authors in my mind at the time. But a great deal of all modern literature is ephemeral, created from day to day to supply a certain definite demand, and sinking out of sight, sooner or later. Nine readers out of ten make no distinction between this ephe- meral material and the few works which really

S8 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

belong to our literary history ; that is, they con- found the transitory with the permanent authors.

Zo'iLUS. So far, I agree with you. Now the inference would be that those nine readers, who lack the finer judgment, and who, of course, repre- sent the prevalent taste, are responsible for the success of the transitory authors. But they do not make the latter ; they do not even dictate the character of their works ; hence the school, no matter how temporary it may be, must be founded by the authors, — which obliges us to admit a certain degree of originality and power.

The Ancient. I see where you are going ; let us have no reasoning in a ring, I pray you ! If you admit the two classes of authors, it is enough. I have already seen one generation forgotten, and I fancy I now see the second slipping the cables of their craft, and making ready to drop down stream with the ebb-tide. I remember, for instance, that in 1840 there were many well-known and tolerably popular names, which are never heard now. Byron and Mrs. Hemans then gave the tone to poetry, and Scott, Bulwer, and Cooper to fiction. Willis was, by all odds, the most popular American author ; Longfellow was not known by the multitude, Emerson was only "that Transcendentalist," and

NIGHT THE THIRD. 59

Whittier " that Abolitionist." We young men used to talk of Rufus Dawes, and Charles Fenno Hoff- man, and Grenville Mellen, and Brainard, and Sands. Why, we even had a hope that something wonderful would come out of Chivers !

Omnes. Chivers ?

The Ancient. Have you never heard of Chi- vers } He is a phenomenon !

The Gannet. Does n*t Poe speak of him some- where ?

The Ancient. To be sure. Poe finished the ruin of him which Shelley began. Dr. Thomas Holley Chivers, of Georgia, author of " Virginalia," "The Lost Pleiad," "Facets of Diamond," and " Eonchs of Ruby !"

ZoiLUS. What ! Come, now, this is only a ben trovato.

The Ancient. Also of " Nacoochee, the Beau- tiful Star ;" and there was still another volume — six in all ! The British Museum has the only com- plete set of his works. I speak the sober truth, Zoilus ; a friend of mine has three of the volumes, and I can show them to you. One of the finest images in modern poetry is in his " Apollo " : —

" Like cataracts of adamant, uplifted into mountains, Making oceans metropolitan, for the splendour of the dawn!"

6o DIVERS^IONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ZoiLUS. Incredible !

The Ancient. I remember also a stanza of his "Rosalie Lee":— .

• • Many mellow Cydonian suckets,

Sweet apples, anthosmial, divine, From the ruby-rimmed beryline buckets.

Star-gemmed, lily-shaped, hyaline: Like the sweet golden goblet found growing

On the wild emerald cucumber-tree, Rich, brilliant, like chrysoprase glowing,

Was my beautiful Rosalie Lee P

ZoifLUS. Hold, hold ! I can endure no more.

The Ancient. You see what comes of a fashion in literature. There was many a youth in those days who made attempts just as idiotic, in the columns of country papers ; and perhaps the most singular circumstance was, that very few readers laughed at them. Why, there are expressions, epithets, images, which run all over the land, and sometimes last for a generation. I once discovered that with both the English and German poets of a hundred years ago, evening is always called browUy and morning either rosy or pitrple. Just now the fashion runs to jewelry; we have ruby lips, and topaz light, and sapphire seas, and diamond air. Mrs. Browning even says : —

" Her cheeks pale Dpalhnmt with a red and restless sparkP

NIGHT THE THIRD. 6i

What sort of a cheek must that be? Then we have such a wealth of gorgeous colour as never was seen before, — no quiet half-tints, but pure pigment?, laid on with a pallet-knife. Really, I sometimes feel a distinct sense of fatigue at the base of the optic nerve, after reading a magazine story. The besetting sin of the popular — not the best — authors is the intense.

ZoiLUS. Why do you call intensity of expres- sion a sin }

The Ancient. I meant intensity of epithet; the strongest expression is generally the briefest and barest. Take the old ballads of any people, and you will find few adjectives. The singer says : " He laughed ; she wept." Perhaps the poet of a more civilized age might say : " He laughed in scorn ; she turned away and shed tears of disap- pointment." But nowadays, the ambitious young writer must produce something like this : " A hard, fiendish laugh, scornful and pitiless, forced its pas- sage from his throat through the lips that curled in mockery of her appeal ; she covered her despairing face, and a gust and whirlwind of sorrowing agony burst forth in her irresistible tears !"

Omnes {clapping their hands). Go on ! Go on !

62 . DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The Ancient. It is enough of the Bowery, for to-night.

Galahad. O, you forget the intenserlife of our day ! I see the exaggeration of which you speak, but I believe something of it comes from the struggle to express more.- All our senses have grown keener, our natures'respond more delicately, and to a greater range of influences, than those of the generations before us. There is a finer moral development ; our aims in life have become spiritualized ; we may have less power, less energy of genius, but we move towards higher and purer goals.

ZOfLUS. The writers of Queen Anne's time might have compared themselves in the same way with their predecessors in Charles II.'s. What if your own poems should be considered coarse and immoral a hundred years hence }

Galahad {bewildered). What has that to do with the question }

The Ancient. Only this ; that there are eternal laws of Art, to which the moral and spiritual aspirations of the author, which ar^ gene- rally relative to his own or the preceding age, must conform, if they would also become eternal.

The Gannet. Very fine, indeed ; but you are all forgetting our business.

NIGHT THE THIRD. 63

ZoiLUS. Let us first add a fresh supply of names.

The Gannet. Write them yourself; we shall otherwise repeat.

(ZoiLUS writes a dozen or more slips, whereupon tliey

draw)

•

Galahad. Dante Rossetti !

ZoifLUS. I have Barry Cornwall.

The Gannet. And I— Whittier.

Omnes. Whittier must not be parodied.

Galahad {earnestly). Draw another name !

The Ancient. Why }

Galahad. There is at once an evidence of what I said ! Where are your jewelry and colours } On the other side, where will you find an intenser faith, a more ardent aspiration for truth and good } The moral and spiritual element is so predominant in him, — so wedded for time and eternity to his genius as a poet, — that you cannot imitate him without seeming to slight, or in some way offend, what should be as holy to us as to him !

The Ancient {laying his hand on Galahad's shoulder). My dear boy, Whittier deserves all the love and reverence you are capable of giving him. He is just as fine an illustration of my side of the

64 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

question : his poetic art has refined and harmonized that moral quality in his nature, which, many years ago, made his poetry seem partisan, and therefore, not unmixed poetry. But the alloy (in a poetic sense, only) has been melted out in the pure and steady flame of his intellect, and the preacher in him has now his rightful authority because he no longer governs the poet. As for those poems which exhale devotion and aspiration as naturally as a violet exhales odour, there is no danger of the Gannet imitating them ; he has not the power even if he had the will. But Whittier has also writtea—

The Gannet. Don't you see Tm hard at work } What do you mean by dictating what I may or may not do } I am already well launched, and {declaiming) " I seek no change ; and, least of all, such change as you would give nie !'*

The Ancient. I can't help you, Galahad ; go on with your own work now. I have drawn one of the youngsters this time, and mean to turn him over to you when you have slaughtered Rossetti.

Galahad. Who is he }

The Ancient. A brother near your throne.

ZoiLUS {to The Ancient). I have done Barry Cornwall ; it's an easy task. He is nearly always very brief. His are not even short swallow-flights

NIGHT THE THIRD. 65

of song, but little hops from one twig to another. While Galahad and the Gannet are finishing theirs, repeat to me something more of Chivers !

The Ancient. I can only recall fragments, here and there. The refrain to a poem called "The Poet's Vocation," in the " Eonchs of Ruby," is :—

" In the music of the morns, Blown through the Conchimarian horns, Down the dark vistas of the reboantic Norns, To the Genius of Eternity, Crying : * Come to me ! Come to me l'" -

ZoiLUS. Ye gods ! It is amazing. Why can't you write a stanza in his manner 1

The Ancient {smiling). I think I can even equal him.

{He takes a pencil and writes rapidly. Just as lie finishes, GALAHAD and The Gannet lay dozvn their pencils and lean back in their seats)

The Chorus {eagerly). We must first hear the Ancient ! He is a medium for the great Chivers.

The Ancient. I have been merciful towards you. One stanza will suffice. {Reads)

Beloved of the wanderer's father

That walks 'mid the agates of June, The wreaths of remorse that I gather

Were torn from the turrets of Rune 5

66 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

When the star-patterns broidered so brilliant

Shone forth from the diapered blue, And the moon dropped her balsam scintUliant,

Soul-nectar for me and for you !

The Gannet. Send for a physician ; tie a wet towel around his head ! A thousand years hence, when the human race comes back to polytheism, Chivers will be the god of all crack-brained authors.

The Ancient. I recognize a fantastic infection. Come, Zoflus, give me a tonic !

ZoiLUS. Wine has become a very fashionable tonic, and that is just what I have put into Barry Cornwall's mouth. {Reads)

SONG.

Talk of dew on eglantine, — Stuff ! the poet's drink is wine. Black as quaflfcd by old King Death, That which biteth, maddeneth ; For my readers fain would see What effect i has on me.

Nose may redden, head may swim, Joints be loose in every limb,

• And the golden rhymes I chant

Sheer away on wings aslant, Whale may whistle, porpoise roll, Yet ril drain the g^entle bowl 1

Pleasure's -dolphin gambols near ; Virtue's mackerel looks austere ;

NIGHT THE THIRD, 6?

Dut/s hippopotamus Waddles forward, leaving us ; Joy, the sturgeon, leaps and soars, While we coast the Teian shores !

The Ancient. .What a fearful Bacchanalian you have made of good and gentle Barry Cornwall ! You must have been possessed by Foe's " Imp of the Perverse," to yoke his manner to such a subject. I was expecting to hear something of spring and clover and cowslips. Faith ! I believe I could im- provise an imitation. Wait a second ! Now : —

When spring return eth,

And cowslips blow, .The milkmaid churneth

Her creamy snow. The mill-wheel spurneth

The stream below ; The cherry-tree skippeth in earth and air, The small bird calleth : beware, prepare ! And all is fair !

Omnes. Another stanza ! The Ancient. O, you have but to turn things upside down, and there it is : —

The cold wind bloweth

O'er brake and burn. The cream o'erfloweth

The tilted churn, The mill-wheel sloweth,

And fails to turn ;

S-2

68 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

The cherry-tree sheddeth her leaves in the fall, The crow and the clamouring raven call, And that is all !

But, seriously, Galahad, after what Zoilus has done, I am a little afraid of the Gannet's work. Suppose he should make our beloved Whittier

" Troll a careless tavern-catch Of Moll and Meg, and strange experiences Unmeet for ladies ?"

Galahad (earnestly). Then I should withdraw from the Club.

The Gannet. Prythee, peace, young hotspur ! I'll agree to start with you for Massachusetts by to- morrow morning's express train, and lay before the poet what I Ve written. If he doesn't laugh heartily on reading it, Til engage to come all the way back afoot.

The Ancient. We can decide for him : read !

The Gannet. It is a ballad of New England life which you shall hear. (Reads)

THE ballad of HIRAM HOVER.

Where the Moosatockmaguntic Pours its waters in the Skuntic,

Met, along the forest-side,

Hiram Hover, Huldah Hyde.

NIGHT THE THIRD. 69

She, a maiden fair and dapper, He, a red-haired, stalwart trapper,

Hunting beaver, mink, and skunk,

In the woodlands of Squeedunk.

She, Pentucket's pensive daughter,

Walked beside the Skuntic water, Gathering, in her apron wet, Snakeroot, mint, and bouncing-bet.

" Why," he murmured, loth to leave her, " Gather yarbs for chills and fever.

When a lovyer, bold and true.

Only waits to gather you ?'

" Go," she answered, " I'm not hasty ;

I prefer a man more tasty :

Leastways, one to please me well Should not have a beasty smell."

" Haughty Huldah !" Hiram answered ;

" Mind and heart alike are cancered : Jest look here ! these peltries give Cash, wherefrom a pair may live. ,

• • I, you think, am but a vagrant,

Trapping beasts by no means fragrant :

Yet— rm sure it's worth a thank —

I've a handsome sum in bank."

Turned and vanished Hiram Hover ; And, before the year was over,

Huldah, with the yarbs she sold,

Bought a cape, against the cold.

70 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Black and thick the furry cape was ;

Of a stylish cut the shape was ; And the girls, in all the town, Envied Huldah up and down.

Then, at last, one winter morning, Hiram came, without a warning :

" Either," said he, " you are blind, Huldah, or you've changed your mind

• • Me you snub for trapping varmints.

Yet you take the skins for garments : Since you wear the skunk and mink. There's no harm in me, I think."

" Well," said she, " we will not quarrel,

Hiram : I accept the moral,

Now the fashion's so, I guess I can't hardly do no less."

Thus the trouble all was over Of the love of Hiram Hover ;

Thus he made sweet Huldah Hyde Huldah Hover as his bride.

Love employs, with equal favour, Things of good and evil savour ;

That, which first appeared to part, Warmed, at last, the maiden's heart.

Under one impartial banner. Life, the hunter. Love, the tanner,

Draw, from every beast they snare, Comfort for a wedded pair ! .

NIGHT THE THIRD. 71

ZoiLUS. The Gannet distances us all, to-night. Even Galahad is laughing yet, and I saw, when the reading began, that he was resolved not to smile, if he could help it. What does our Ancient think?

' The Ancient. It does, certainly, suggest the style of some of Whittier's delightful ballads, only substituting a comical for an earnest motive. Change that motive and a few expressions, and it would become a serious poem. The Gannet was lucky in striking the proper key at the start. And here, perhaps, is one result of our diversions, upon which we had not calculated, over and above the fun. I don't see why poets should not drill them- selves in all that is technical, as well as painters, sculptors, opera-singers, or even orators. All the faculties called into play tq produce rhythm, har- mony of words, richness of the poetical dialect, choice of keys and cadences, may be made nimbler, by even mechanical practice, more active, and more obedient to command. I never rightly believed in the peculiar solemnity of the poet's gift ; every singer should have a gay, sportive side to his nature. I am sure the young Shakespeare would have heartily joined in what we are here doing ; the young Goethe, we know, did many a similar thing. He

72 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

was a capital hnprovvisatore ; and who knows how much of his mastery over all forms of poetry may not have come from just such gymnastics !

Galahad. Might not an aptness in represent- ing the manner of others — like that of an actor who assumes a different character every night — indicate some lack of original force ?

The Ancient. The comparison is deceptive. An actor's sole business is to assume other indi- vidualities. What we do is no more than every novelist does, in talking as a young girl, an old man, a saint, or a sinner. If anything of yourself is lost in the process, and you can't get it back again, why — let it go !

ZoiLUS. You have it now, Galahad !

Galahad. Well, I'll cover my confusion by transferring myself into Dante Gabriel Rossetti. (Reads)

CIMABUELLA.

I.

Fair-tinted cheeks, clear eyelids drawn

In crescent curves above the light Of eyes, whose dim, uncertain dawn

Becomes not day : a forehead white Beneath long yellow heaps of hair : She is so strange she must be fair.

NIGHT THE THIRD. 75

II. Had she sharp, slant-wise wings outspread.

She were an angel ; but she stands With flat dead gold behind her head,

And lilies in her long thin hands : Her folded mantle, gathered in, Falls to her feet as it were tin.

III. Her nose is keen as pointed flame ;

Her crimson lips no thing express ; And never dread of saintly blame

Held down her heavy eyelashes : To guess what she were thinking of, Precludeth any meaner love,

IV.

An azure carpet, fringed with gold,

Sprinkled with scarlet spots, I laid Before her straight, cool feet unrolled :

But she nor sound nor movement made (Albeit I heard a soft, shy smile, Printing her neck a moment's while) ;

V. And I ^as shamed through all my mind

For that she spake not, neither kissed, But stared right past me. Lo ! behind

Me stood, in pink and amethyst. Sword-girt and velvet-doubleted, A tall, gaunt youth, with frowzy head,

VI.

Wide nostrils in the air, dull eyes, Thick lips that simpered, but, ah me !

I saw, with most forlorn surprise. He was the Thirteenth Century,

74 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

I but the Nineteenth : then despair Curdled beneath my curling hair.

VII.

O, Love and Fate ! How could she choose My rounded outlines, broader brain,

And my resuscitated Muse ?

Some tears she shed, but whether pain

Or joy in him unlocked their source,

I could not fathom which, of course.

VIII. But I from missals, quaintly bound.

With cither and with clavichord Will sing her songs of sovran sound :

Belike her pity will afford Such faint return as suits a saint So sweetly done in verse and paint.

The Gannet. O Galahad ! Who could have expected this of you ?

Galahad. You know I like Rossetti's poems, but, really, I couldn't help it, after I once got under way.

The Gannet. Rossetti is picturesque, whatever else he may not be. His poetry has a delicate flavour of its own, and that is much to me, in these days, when so many dishes seem to be cooked with the same sauce. A poet is welcome to go back to the thirteenth century, if he only fetches us pic- tures. Poetry belongs to luxurious living, as much as painting and music ; hence we must value colour.

Digitize?! by VjOOQIC

NIGHT THE THIRD. 75

rhythmical effect, quaint and unexpected play of fancy, and every other quality that makes verse bright and sparkling. The theme is of less import- ance. Take, for instance, Victor Hugo's Orientales'

ZoiLUS. Pray let us not open that discussion again ! You know, already, how far I go with you, and just where Galahad and the Ancient stand. We should rather confine ourselves directly to the authors we imitate. Now, I think Rossetti's book on the Early Italian Poets better than his own poems. Perhaps it was the attempt to reproduce those poets in English which has given the mediaeval colouring to his verse. We cannot undertake to say how much of the manner is natural, and how much assumed ; for a thirteenth or even a second century nature may be born nowadays. But it is none the less out of harmony with our thought and feeling, and the en- couragement of such a fashion in literature strikes me as being related to the Pre-Raphaelite halluci- nation in art. I should like to have the Ancient's opinion on this point.

The Ancient. Here is your other name, Gala- had. {Gives him a slip of paper ^ If there were not so much confusion of taste, Zo'flus, — such an uncertainty in regard to the unchanging standards of excellence in literature and art, — I could answer

76 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

you in a few words. We must judge these anachro- nistic developments (as they seem) by those which provoked them. A movement may be false in itself, yet made necessary by some antecedent illu- sion or inanity. If you want to leave port, almost any craft will answer. I might carry out the image, and add that we never can foresee what side-winds may come to force the vessel to some other shore than that for which she seems bound. I have care- fully read Rossetti's book, as one of the many phe- nomena of the day. It seems to me that there is a thin little thread of native poetry in him, but so encumbered with the burden of colour, sensuous expression, and mediaeval imagery and drapery, that it often is quite lost. What I have heard of the author explains to me the existence of the volume ; but its immediate popularity is something which I cannofyet comprehend.

Galahad. I have written.

The Gannet. Already } Who was it, then > .

Galahad. A personal friend, whose poems 1 know by heart, — Thomas Bailey Aldrich. There- fore I couldn't well avoid violating our rule, for a special little rhyme popped into my head, and imi- tated myself. If Aldrich were not living in Boston, we should have him here with us to-night, and

NIGHT THE THIRD, 77

he would be quite ready to burlesque himself. {Reads)

PALABRAS GRANDIOSAS.

I lay i' the bosom of the sun,

Under the roses dappled and dun.

I thought of the Sultan Gingerbeer,

In his palace beside the Bendemeer,

With his Affghan guards and his eunuchs blind,

And the harem that stretched for a league behind.

The tulips bent i' the summer breeze,

Under the broad chrysanthemum trees,

And the minstrel, playing his culverin,

Made for mine ears a merry din.

If I were the Sultan, and he were I,

Here i' the grass he should loafing lie,

And I should bestride my zebra steed.

And ride to the hunt of the centipede ;

While the pet of the harem, Dandeljne,

Should fill me a crystal bucket of wine, -

And the kislar aga, Up-to-Snuff,

Should wipe my mouth when I sighed " Enough f

And the gay court-poet, Fearfulbore,

Should sit in the hall when the hunt was o'er,

And chant me songs of silvery tone.

Not from Hafiz, but — mine own !

Ah, wee sweet love, beside me here,

I am not the Sultan Gingerbeer,

Nor you the odalisque Dandeline,

Yet I am yourn, and you are mine !

The Ancient. , There's a delicate, elusive quality about Aldrich's short lyrics, which I should

78 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

think very difficult to catch. I have an indistinct recollection of poor George Arnold writing some- thing.

ZoiLUS. It was all about a mistake Aldrich .made, years ago, in the colour of a crocus. He called it red, and there may be red crocuses for aught I know; but yellow or orange is the con- ventional colour. Of course we didn't let the occa- sion slip; we were all unmerciful towards each other. I remember I wrote something like this : —

I walked in the garden, ruffled with rain, Through the blossoms of every hue ;

And I saw the pink, with its yellow stain, And the rose, with its bud of blue.

George Arnold's lines were : —

And all about the porphyry plates «vere strewn The blue arbutus of the early June, The crimson lemon and the purple yam. And dainties brought from Seringapatam !

The Gannet. They are better than yours. Well, I'm glad that Galahad has not confused our colour, at least. For my part, I like Aldrich ; he is faithful to his talent, and gives us nothing that is not daintily polished and rounded. Some of his fragments remind me of Genoese filigree-work, there seems to be so much elaboration in a small com-

NIGHT THE THIRD. 79

pass ; yet only sport, not labour, is sdggested. He> also, has ceased to sing in the minor key ; but I don't think he ever affected it much.

The Ancient {earnestly), I'm glad to hear it ! O ye cheerful gods of all great poets, shall we never have an end of weeping and wailing and lamenta- tion ! Is the world nothing but a cavern of sorrow, and the individual life a couch of thorns ? Must we have always bats, and never skylarks, in the air of poetry ?

ZoiLUS. Hear, hear ! I have not seen the Ancient so roused this many a day. .

The Ancient. The truth always excites.

Galahad. Before you put on your hats, let us have one more "lager." (The glasses are filled) Now, to the health of all our young authors !

The Gannet. Here's to them heartily,— for that includes ourselves.

The Ancient. As the youngest, I return thanks. [Exeunt,

•••; >;

NIGHT THE FOURTH.

ijLL the members of the Club were assembled, but the Ancient had not yet made his appearance. He was dining that evening, as it happened, with a wealthy banker, and there was no possibility of omitting one of the seventeen courses, or escaping before the coffee and liqueurs. As the oldest of the members, the duties of chair- man were always conferred on him whenever a de- cision became necessary, and all assumed, as a matter of course, that the Diversions should be sus- p'ended until his arrival. But the conversation, meanwhile, settled upon him as its subject. Zoflus and one of the Chorus were not as old acquaint* ances as the Gannet and Galahad, which circum- stance led, after his nature had been genially dis- cussed, to the following digression : —

ZoiLUS {to The Gannet). I had not often met him familiarly, in this way, before. He is a good,

NIGHT THE FOURTH 8r

mellow-natured companion, and not at all dogmatic, that is, in a direct way ; but I can see the influence of his Boston associations. There is a greal deal of external tact and propriety in that city. Now our impetuous, keen, incisive atmosphere —

The Gannet (interrupting). Spare me the "incisive !" It has been overdone, as an effect, and will be the ruin of you, yet. If I had as much faith as Galahad there, I should believe as Ihe Ancient does. But, since you will have the "incisive," where can you find sentences more clearly cut — the very intaglio of style — than in Holmes }

ZOILUS (angrily). And do you remember what he wrote of our New York authors, —

" Whose fame, beyond their own abode, Extends— for miles along the Harlem road" ?

The Gannet. Yes, and don't you know who they were } Why, their fame doesn't reach up to Twenty-third Street, now ! It was a deliberate at- tempt, by a small clique, to manufacture the Great American Literature. The materials were selected in advance, the style and manner settled, and then the great authors went to work. Like the Chinese mechanics who copied a steamboat, the external imitation was perfect ; but there were no

6

82 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

inside works, and it wouldn't move a paddle! When you speak of our legitimate authors, here in New York, what name first comes to your lips ? Bryant, of course ; and have you forgotten how Holmes celebrated him ? and how his was the only garland of verse thrown upon Halleck's grave ?

ZoiLUS. Nevertheless, they systematically de- preciate what we do ; they are only kind and con- siderate towards one another. You remember Poe's experience ?

The Ancient {mtering tlu room). Which one, pray ?

ZoiLUS. Of Boston. But they did not and have not put him down.

The Ancient. Why, no ; he put himself down that time : I happened to be there, and I saw the performance. I guess that you and the Gannet have been repeating your usual tilt ; why not say, as Goethe did of the comparisons made between himself and Schiller, " Instead of quarrelling about which of us is the greater, people ought simply to be thankful for having us both T Thirty or forty years ago, when Lowell and Whipple were boys, Longfellow and Holmes young authors, Emerson considered little better than daft, and Whittier almost outlawed on account of his anti-slavery

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 83

opinions, the literary society here included Irving, Cooper, Bryant, Willis, and Halleck, then the fore- most American authors. The chief literary periodi- cals were here and in Philadelphia ; and Boston, although the average of intellectual culture was always higher there than elsewhere, occupied quite a secondary place. But I don't remember that there was ever any jealousy or rivalry ; and I con- fess I can't understand the spirit which fosters such a feeling now.

ZoiLUS. You have passed the age when you care for recognition.

The Ancient. Have I, indeed ? Pray, when does that age cease } If I had a more general re- cognition, at present — by which I mean the ascrip- tion to me of exactly the literary qualities which I think I possess, — I should be stimulated to do more and possibly better work. I began authorship at a time when there was not much discrimination be- tween varieties of literary talent, when such fearful stuff as " Agathd, a Necromaunt : in Three Chimae- ras," by a man named Tasistro, was published in " Graham's Magazine," and when a dentist in Rhode Island wrote a poem in heroic verse, called " The Dentiad."

The Gannet. What was his name ?

84 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The Ancient. Solyman Brown, I must quote to you an exquisite passage : —

• • Whene'er along the ivory disks are seen

The rapid traces of the dark gangrene, When caries come, with stealthy pace, to throw Corrosive ink-spots on those banks of snow, Brook no delay, ye trembling, suffering Fair, But fly for refuge to the dentist's care. His practised hand, obedient to his will. Employs the slender file with nicest skill ; Just sweeps the germin of disease away. And stops the fearful progress of decay."

ZofLUS. The latest nursling of Darwin's "Bo- tanic Garden !" It is not antithetical enough for Pope, Surely, that was not a popular poem ?

The Ancient. I was too young to know. I only mention it as one of the chaotic elements out of which has grown what little permanent literature we now have. Probably three fourths of the writers then commencing their career might have developed some sound practical ability, with a little intelligent guidance ; they were not strong enough to beat their own way out of the wilderness. When I look back upon it, I can see the bones of immor- tal works bleaching on all sides.

The Gannet. As ours will bleach for the young fellows who sit here in 1900! While you

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 85

were speaking, the thought occurred to me that no young poet in England can possibly be as green at his ehtrance into literature as the most of us must inevitably be. I begin to see that a conventional standard is better than none; for if it does not guide, it provokes resistance ; either way, therefore, the neophyte acquires a definite form and style.

The Ancient. To that extent, I agree with you. But we also have a standard, only those who accept it are fewer, and so scattered over the whole country that their authority is not immediately felt. They distinguish between what is temporary and what is permanent, in spite of the general public. And this ought to be our great comfort, if we are in ear-nest, that no power on earth can keep alive a sensational reputation.

ZoiLUS. How do you account for the popularity of such single poems as " The River of Time," (is that the title of it .?) and " Beautiful Snow," and "Rock me to sleep, mother.?" Why, hardly a week passes, but I see a newspaper dispute about th-e authorship of one or the other of them ! To me they are languishing sentiment, not poetry.

The Ancient. "Sentiment" sufficiently ac- counts for their popularity. Put some tender, thoroughly obvious sentiment into rhyme which

86 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

sounds like the melody of a popular song, and it will go through hides which are impervious to the keenest arrows of the imagination. But how much more unfortunate for us, if it were not so ! This gives us just the fulcrum we need if our literature is ever to be an Archimedean lever. I find myself a great deal happier since I have set about discover- ing the reason of these manifestations of immature taste, instead of lamenting over them, or cursing them, as I once did. ,

ZoiLUS {ironically). Then I have not attained your higher stand-point ?

The Gannet {offering him the hat). Here, pick out one of the caged birds, and make him sing ! The prelude of chords and discords has lasted long enough; let the orchestra now fall into a lively melody.

ZoiLUS. Ha ! How shall I manage Bryant ?

Galahad. Or I, Oliver Wendell Holmes }

The Gannet. Or I, N. P. Willis.

Galahad. Let us either exchange, or deal again.

The Ancient. No ! As chairman, I declare such a proposition out of order. You must not pick out those authors with whose manner you are most familiar^ or whom you could most easily imitate.

NIGHT THE FOURTH, 87

That would be no fair and equal test ; and there must be a little emulation, to keep your faculties in nimble playing condition. I am as oddly tasked as either of you — ^see, I have drawn Tennyson ! — yet, for the sake of good example, TU work with you this time. Let us surrender ourselves, like spiritual mediums, to the control of the first stray idea that enters our brains : anything whatever will do for a point to start from. I am curious to know what will come of it. .ZofLUS. So am I. Here goes. {Writes) The Gannet. We must first have our glasses filled ; Galahad, ring for the waiter !

{A silence of fifteen or twenty minutes follows As the first one who has completed his task lifts his head with a sigh of relief, the others write zvith a nervous haste ; but all wait for the last one.)

The Gannet. You were ready first, Zoilus.

ZOiLUS. Then it was not because I had the least difficult task. Perhaps our Ancient can tell me why it is so difficult to make an echo for Bryant's verse. To parody any particular poem, such as " The Death of the Flowers," would be easy enough, I should think J but I was obliged to write some-

88 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

thing independent in Bryant*s manner. Now, when I asked myself, "What is his manner?" I could only answer, " Gravity of subject and treatment, pure rhythm, choice diction, and a mixture more or less strong of the moral element."

The Ancient. You have fairly stated his pro- minent characteristics, and your difficulty came from the fact that they are all so evenly and exqui- sitely blended in his verse, that no single one seems salient enough to take hold of. Bryant's range of subjects is not wide, but within that range he is a most admirable artist. He is of the same blood with Wordsworth, — a brother, not a follower, — and often-times seems cold, because his intellectual pitch is high. I confess / find the powers of con- trol, temperance, self-repression^ abnegation of sen- timent for a purpose which aims beyond it, in his poems, rather than a negative coldness. His literary position, it is true, is very isolated. He has both kept aloof from the temporary excitements in our poetic atmosphere, and he has rarely given any direct expression of an aspiration for the general literary development of our people, or of sympathy with those who felt and fostered it. Nevertheless, we cannot fairly go beyond an author's works, in our judgments ; and I suspect we shall all agree, as

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 89

Americans, in estimating the amount of our debt to Bryant.

Galahad. You have so put down my natural reverence that I don't dare to protest. But when I see Bryant in Broadway, with his magnificent Homeric beard, I wonder the people don't take oflf their hats as he passes. Why, seventy years ago, the stolid Berliners almost carried Schiller on their shoulders as he came out of the theatre ; the raging mob of '48 did homage to Humboldt ; and every other people, it seems to me, in every other civilized land, has rendered some sort of honour to its min- strels. But I cannot recollect that we have ever done anything.

The Gannet. Yes, we have done a little, but not much, — after death. A few men have given Halleck a monument, and two men have put up busts of Irving and Bryant in our parks. There was a public commemoration of Cooper, at which Webster (who knew nothing and cared nothing about our literature) officiated ; but that was the end of it. The Bryant Festival was almost a pri- vate matter ; the public was not represented, and one author belonging to the same club refused to take any part in it, on account of the political views of the poet I

90 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The Ancient. We are forgetting our business. Zoiflus has the floor.

ZoiLUS. I told you I had a hard task ; there* )

fore I shall not be vexed if you tell me I have 'j

failed. {Reads) \

THE DESERTED BARN.

Against the gray November sky,

Beside the weedy lane, it stands ; To newer fields they all pass by,

The fanners and their harvest hands.

There is no hay within the mow ;

The racks and mangers fall to dust ; The roof is crumbling in, but thou,

My soul, inspect it and be just. I

Once from the green and winding vale

The sheaves were borne to deck its floor ; The blue-eyed milkmaid filled her pail>

Then gently closed the stable-door. j

Once on the frosty winter air '

The sound of flails afar was borne, And from his natural* pulpit there

The preacher cock called up the mom.

But all are gone : the harvest men

Work elsewhere now for higher pay ; The blue-eyed milkmaid married Ben,

The hand, and went to loway.

The flails are banished by machines.

Which thresh the grain with equine power $ The senile cock no longer weans

The folk from sleep at dawning hour.

NIGHT THE FOURTH 91

They slumber late beyond the hill, ,

In that new house which spurns the old ;

In gorgeous stalls the kine are still, The horse is blanketed from cold.

But I from ostentatious pride

And hollow pomp of riches turn, To muse that ancient bam beside :

Pause, pilgrim, and its lesson learn ;

So live, that thou shalt never make

A mill-pond of the mountain tarn, Nor for a gaudy stable take

The timbers of thy ruined bam !

Galahad. I vow I don't know whether that is serious, or a burlesque imitation !

The Ancient. Then Zoilus has fairly suc- ceeded. The grave, autumnal tone was indispen- sable, for it stamps itself on the minds of nine out of ten who read Bryant ; just as we always asso- ciate Wordsworth with mountain walks and solitary musings. Did you ever see Kuntze's statuette of Bryant.? He is sitting, and beside him, on the ground, there is only a buffalo-skull. Of course, you at once imagine a prairie mound, with nothing in sight, — which is carrying the impression alto- gether too far ; for his poems on the apple-tree and the bobolink are entirely human.

GalahAd (earnestly). There is much more than

92 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

that in his poetry ! There is the evidence of a high imaginative quality, which, for some reason or other, he seems to hold in check! Read "The Land of Dreams" and his poem on " Earth," where there is something about the

" Hollows of the great invisible hills Where darkness dwells all day — *'

I can't remember all the passage, but it is exceed- ingly fine ! Generally, he reins himself up so tightly that you cannot feel the fretting of the bit ; but rarely, when he lets himself go, for a few lines, you get a glimpse of another nature.

The Ancient. Just therein, I think, lies his greatest service to American literature. There have always been, and always will be, enough of wild mustangs, unbridled foals, who dash off at a gallop and can't stop themselves at the proper goal, but pant and stagger a mile beyond it. With Bry- ant's genius, he might have undertaken much more ; but he has hoarded his power, and how freshly it serves him still !

" No waning of fire, no quenching of ray. But rising, still rising, then passing away.'

Who wrote those lines ? The Gannet. He who speak^ through me to-

NIGHT THE FOURTH 93

night, — Willis. But Galahad comes next in order.

Galahad. I have really a better right to com- plain of the severity of my task than Zoflus. One canJt imitate humour without possessing it, — which I'm not sure that I do. Between "Old Ironsides" and the " One-Hoss Shay," Holmes has played in a great many keys, and I was forced to echo that one which seemed easiest to follow. {Reads)

THE PSYCHO-PHYSICAL MUSE.

O Muse, descend, or, stay ! — evolve thy presence from within, For all conditions now combine, and so I must begin : The wind is fresh from west-nor'west, the sky is deepest blue, Thennometer at seventy, and pulse at seventy- two.

At breakfast fish-balls I consumed ! the phosphates are sup- plied ! The peccant acid in my blood by Selters alkalied ; As far as I can see the works, my old machine of thought Runs with its cogs and pivots oiled, as if in Waltham bought.

The main-spring is elastic yet, the balance-wheel is trim. And if" fuU-je welled" one should think, let no one scoff at him! Odi profanum vulgus, — well ! the truth is t' other way ; But one eupeptic as myself can always have his say.

Suppose I let the wheels run on, till fancy's index-hand Points to a verse-inspiring theme and there inclines to stand ? Between the thought and rhythmic speech there often yawns

a chasm ; To bridge it o'er we only need a vigorous protoplasm.

94 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

With an unconscious sinciput^ a cerebellum free,

I don't see why the loftiest lays should not be sung by me :

The fitful flushes of the Muse my diagnosis own •

I test her symptoms in the air as surely aa ozone.

There's just one thing that fails me yet ; the fancies dart

around Like skittish swallows in the air, but none will touch the

ground. "With such conditions 't were a sin to lay the pen aside, But, with the mind close-girt to run, direction is denied.

I've waited, now, an hour or more ; I'd take a glass of wine, Save that I fear 't would send the pulse to seventy-eight or

nine; 'T is that capricious jade, the Muse ! — I know her tricks of old: Just when my house is warm for her, she will prefer the cold !

The Gannet. Ah, youVe only caught some general characteristics, not the glitter and flash of Holmes's lines ! His humour is like a Toledo blade ; it may be sheathed in a circular scabbard, but it always springs out straight and keen, and fit for a direct lunge. He is the only poet in the country who can write good " occasionals," without losing faith in the finer inspiration, or ceasing to obey it.

Galahad. You very well know we have no time for selection. I have been reading lately his " Me- chanism in Thought and Morals," so that my imi- tation was really suggested by his prose.

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 95

The Ancient. That is permitted. For my part, though I like Holmes's songs in all keys, I have always wished that he had written more such poems as " La Grisette," wherein we have, first of all, ease and grace, then just enough of sentiment, of humour, and of a light, sportive fancy to make a mixture wholly delightful, — a beverage that cheers, but not inebriates, in which there is neither head- ache nor morbid tears. Hood had the same quality, though he doesn't often reveal it ; so had Praed ; so, I feel sure, had Willis, but in his case it was a neglected talent. When I say that we most sorely need this naive, playful element in our lite- rature, you may not agree with me ; but, O, how tired I am of hearing that every poem should "con- vey a lesson," should "inculcate a truth," should • appeal to the moral sense." Why, half our self- elected critics seem to be blind to the purely aes- thetic character of our art! No man — not even the greatest — can breathe a particular atmosphere all his life, without taking some of its ingredients into his blood ; and just those which seem best may be most fatal to the imaginative faculty. I suspect there has been more of battle in the intellectual life of Holmes than any of us knows.

Zoi'LUS. Now let us hear the Gannet

96 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The Gannet. If it had been a leader for the " Home Journal," I should have found the task light enough ; but Willis's poetic style is — as he would have said — rather un-come-at-able. {Reads)

KEREN-HAPPUCH.

The comforters of Job had come and gone. They were anhungered ; for the eventide Sank over Babylon, and smokes arose From pottage cooked in palace and in tent. Then Keren-happuch, from her lordly bower Of j em-like jasper, and the porphyry floors Swept by the satins of her trailing robe, Came forth, and sat beside her father Job, And gave him comfort, 'mid his painful boils. And scraped him with a potsherd ; and her soul Rebelled at his unlovely misery. And from her lips, that parted like a cleft Of ripe pomegranates o'er their ruby teeth, Broke forth a wail ;

" Alas for thee, my sire ! And for the men and maidens of thy train. And for thy countless camels on the plain.

More than thou didst require ; Thou mightst have sold them at the morning dawn For heavy gold : at even they were gone 1

" And they who dressed my hair With agate braids and pearls from Samarcand Have died ; there is no handmaid in the land,

To make my visage fair : Unpainted and unpowdered, lo ! I come. Gray with the ashes of my gorgeous home I

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 97

" Yea, thou and I are lone : The prince who wooed me fled in haste away From thine infection : hungered here I stray,

And find not any bone ; For famished cats have ravaged shelf and plate : The larder, like my heart, is desolate I

" And it is very drear. My sire, whose wealth and beauty were my pride. To see thee so disfigured at my side.

Nor leech nor poultice near, To save thy regal skin from later scars : Yea, thou art loathsome by the light of stars !

" Go, hie thee to thy room, And I will gather marjoram and nard, And mix their fragrance with the cooling lard,

And thus avert thy doom. A daughter's sacrifice no tongue can tell : The prince will stay away till thou art well !"

Galahad. Now I must say, although I have enjoyed the travesty with you, that this gives me a pang. I can't forget Willis's sunny, kindly, and sympathetic nature, and the dreary clouding of his mind at the last. There was something very tragic in the way in which he clung to the fragments that remained, as one faculty after another failed him, and strove to be still the cheerful, sparkling author of old. I was hardly more than a boy when I first

7

98 DIVERSIONS OF 7 HE ECHO CLUB.

went to him, a few years ago, and no brother could have been kinder to me.

The Ancient. There never was a poet more free from jealousy or petty rivalry, none more ready to help or encourage. As an author, he was damaged by too early popularity, and he made the mistake of trying to retain it through exag- gerating the features of his style which made him popular ; but neither homage nor defamation — and he received both in full measure— ever affected the man's heart in his breast. There was often an affectation of aristocratic elegance in his writings ; yet, in his life, he was as natural a democrat as Walt Whitman, gentle, considerate, and familiar with the lowest whom he met, and only haughty towards ignorant or vulgar pretension. Poe said that he narrowly missed placing himself at the head of American literature, which was true of his career from 1830 to about 1845. By-the-by, I wish some one would undertake to write our literary his- tory, beginning, say, about 1800.

ZoiLUS. Set about it yourself I But, come, we are not to be cheated out of your contribution to- night ; where is your Tennyson }

The Ancient. I have added another to his brief modern idyls. {Reads)

NIGHT THE FOURTH. 99

EUSTACE GREEN ;

OR, THE MEDICINE-BOTTLE.

Here's the right place for lunch : and if, ah me ! The hollies prick, and burr-weed grows too near, We'll air our eyesight o'er the swelling downs. And so not mind them. While the Medoc chills In ice, and yon champagne-flask in the sun Takes mellower warmth, I'll tell you what I did To Eustace Green— last Cambridge-term it was, Just when the snowball by the farmer's gate Made jokes of winter at the garden rose.

No marvel of much wisdom Eustace was, —

You know him, Hal, — ^no high- browed intellect,

Such as with easy grab the wrangler's place

Plucks from the clutching hands of college youth,

But home-bred, as it were ; and all the stock.

His stalwart dad, and mother Marigold

(We called her), Kate, Cornelia, Joseph, Jane,

A country posy of great boys and girls.

But she, the mother, when the brown ash took

A liveHer green beside the meadow-stile.

And celandines, the milky kine of flowers.

Were yellow in the lanes, hung o'er the fire

A caldron huge — oh me, it was a sight

To see her stir the many herbs therein !

Of yarrow, tansy, thyme, and chamomile —

What know I all ? — she boiled and slowly brewed

The strange concoction : 't was an heirloom old,

The recipe, a sovran cure, and famed

From Hants to Yorkshire : this must Eustace take.

Not that the lubber lad was ill — O, no !

You did but need to punch him in the ribs,

7-3

100 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLVS.

To feel how muscle overlaid the bone ; And as for trencher-practice,— trust me, Hal, A donkey-load of lunch were none too much, Were he here with us. Where was I ? — Ah, yes, The medicine ! She gave it me with words Many, and thrice repeated ; he should take, Eustace, the dose at morn, and noon, and night, For these were feverous times : she did not know, Not she, what airs blew o'er the meads of Cam : Preventive ounces weighed a pound of cure. At last, I thrust the bottle in my sack, And left her.

Now, returning Cambridge-wards, Some devil tickled me to turn the thing To joke, or was it humours in the blood. Stirring, perchance, when, oysters out of date And game prohibited, the stomach pines ? Think as you will ; but to myself my mind Thus reasoned : need to him of medicine Is none : the green cicala in the grass Chirps not more wholesome ; wherefore swiftly I Will cast this useless brewage to the winds, Yea, to the thistled downs ; and substitute — Haply some ancient hostel glimmering near — Laborious Boreal brandy, equal bulk. And this, the thing accomplished, then did I proffer to Eustace Green, all eager he For news of home and mother Marigold, His dad and Kate, Cornelia, Joseph, Jane, And Bloss, the ox, and Bounce, the plough-horse old, One-eyed, and spavined. But the medicine He took with : Pshaw ! that beastly stuff again ? Am I a rat that she should send the dose Y*

NIGHT THE FOURTH ' loi

Then I : " Dear Eustace, times are feverous !

Malarial breezes blow across the Cam :

Preventive ounces weigh a pound of cure."

" O, damn your ounces !" he profanely cried ;

" But if I must, I must ; so summon Giles,

The undertaker, when I take this dose.

And gently coffin me when now I die."

So drank ; and then, with great eyes all astare,

Cried : " Taste it, you ! Fourth proof, O. P. and

S. T. X !— Well have a punch !" And that teetotal dame, His mother, did we pledge in steaming punch, She knowing not : and tears of laughter ran Down both our cheeks, and trickled in the bowl. Weakening the punch.

But now the Medoc's chill, And warm the sweet champagne ; so, while the copse Clangs round us like the clang of many shields, Down the long hollows to the dusky sea. Let us, with sandwich and the hard-boiled t%%^ Enjoy both nature's beauty and our own I

Omnes. Well done !

ZOYLUS. Why, you have caught the very trick of Tennyson's blank-verse! If you had only warmed the Medoc and chilled the champagne, I should hardly know the difference. But how did you ever happen to invent a motive, or plot, all complete, on the spur of the moment }

The Ancient. Ah, you force me to confess:

102 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

I didn't invent it. It was a trick I played myself, on a friend, in our young days ; and, by good luck, it came to my memory just at the right time.* Therefore, having the subject, the imitation of Tennyson's manner was easy enough. Fm glad, however, that you think it successful ; for it justi- fies me in holding fast to the principle we accepted, and which 1 was obliged to enforce to-night. You know that my own scattering poems are quite un- like — however long the interval between— anything of Tennyson's; but I have made it a point, for years past, to study the individual characteristics of the poets, and this proves how easily those which are superficial and obvious may be copied.

ZOYLUS. May I ask what your private estimate of Tennyson, as a poet, is ?

The Ancient. Of course ! While I might, possibly, agree with his keenest critics in regard to many details of style or expression, especially in his earlier poems, I yield to no one in the pro- foundest respect for his noble loyalty to his art Tennyson is a poet, who, recognizing the exact quality of his gift, has given all the forces of his mind, all the energies of his life, to perfect it. I can see that he has allowed no form of knowledge, ^yhich this age has developed, to arise without

NIGHT THE FOURTH 103

assimilating, at least, its substance ; but all is em- ployed in the sole service of his poetic art. He began with something of the rank, " lush" luxuriance of style which Keats was just leaving behind him when he died : he now rises, often to a majestic simplicity and dignity which nearly remind me of Milton. Not that the two are similar, in any par- ticular ; but Tennyson, like scarcely any other ex- cept Schiller, has achieved high success as a poet by comprehending clearly both his powers and their limitations. How easily, by mistaking his true work, he might have scattered his rays, instead of gathering them into a clear focus of light! All honour to him, I say, in this age, when so many writers degrade their gift by making it subservient to worldly ends !

Galahad {with enthusiasfn). You make me happy !

The Gannet. I should say, nevertheless, that he was well paid in ringing guineas. For instance —

ZoiLUS. " The continuation in next week's New York Ledger!" Do you know that it is one o'clock.^

Omnes {starting up). We go — but we return !

[Exeunt.

NIGHT THE FIFTH.

fLL were on hand at the usual hour, fresh and eager for a continuation of the performances. The Gannet, addressing Zoilus, opened the conversation :^

" I can gu^ss one thing you have been thinking of since we met, — of Tennyson's place in literature ?"

ZoiLUS. You have just hit it! I didn't fully agree with the Ancient, but there was no time left for discussion. There must be some good reason for Tennyson's influence on the poetry of our day ; yet, if his is a genuine flower, it couldn't be made a weed by being sown everywhere. There is no doubt of the individuality of his manner, but I am not yet ready to say that it is pure, as Collins's, or Gray's, for instance, or even Wordsworth's. He is sometimes like a perfume which cloys the sense from over-richness. Now, a very slight change in the odour of the tuberose might make it unplea-

NIGHT THE FIFTH. 105

sant ; and it seems to me that some of Tennyson's younger followers have made just such a change.

Galahad. Almost the same thought occurred to me the other day. I was trying to recall some lines of the Ancient's imitation, and then went over in my mind the numbers of blank-verse idyls more or less in Tennyson's manner, which have been written by others. He drew from a very far source, as I think Stedman has clearly shown in his paper on " Theocritus and Tennyson ;" but they, drawing from him, cannot conceal theirs. I never before felt so keenly the difference between the poetry which rises out of a man's own nature and that which is im- pressed upon it, or communicated, like an infection, by another mind. I even went so far as to try my hand alone, on an imitation of this idyllic school, which I now see is itself an echo.

The Ancient. Read it to us, then ! Who was your immediate model }

Galahad (taking a paper from his pocket). Why, no one in particular. Now that I look over the lines, I see that I must have been thinking of the echoes of the " Princess," rather than of those of the short idyls of modern life. It is the craziest burlesque of the mediaeval themes, revived in that form : it is absurd and nothing else.

io6 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ZoiLUS. That will do very well, for variety. Galahad. Then, as Eustace Green says, if I must, I must (Reads)

SIR EGGNOGG.

Forth from the purple battlements he fared, Sir Eggnogg of the Rampant Lily, named From that embrasure of his argent shield Given by a thousand leagues of heraldry On snuffy parchments drawn, — so forth he fared. By bosky boles and autumn leaves he fared, Where grew the juniper with berries black. The sphery mansions of the future gin. But naught of this decoyed his mind, so bent On fair Miasma, Saxon-blooded girl. Who laughed his loving lullabies to scorn. And would have snatched his hero-sword to deck Her haughty brow, or warm her hands withal. So scornful she : and thence Sir Eggnogg cursed Between his teeth, and chewed his iron boots In spleen of love. But ere the morn was high In the robustious heaven, the postern-tower Clang to the harsh, discordant, slivering scream Of the tire- woman, at the window bent To dress her crisped hair. She saw, ah woe 1 The fair Miasma, overbalanced, hurled 0*er the flamboyant parapet which ridged The muffled coping of the castle's peak. Prone on the ivory pavement of the court. Which caught and cleft her fairest skull, and sent Her rosy brains to fleck the Orient floor. This saw Sir Eggnogg, in his stirrups poised,

NIGHT THE FIFTH 107

Saw he and cursed, with many a deep-mouthed oath,

And, finding nothing more could reunite

The splintered form of fair Miasma, rode

On his careering palfrey to the wars,

And there found death, another death than hers.

ZOiLUS. After this, write another such idyl your- self, if you dare !

Galahad. I never shall ; but when you have done the thing ignorantly, and a magazine wants it on account of the temporary popularity of the theme and manner, is an author much to blame for publishing ?

The Gannet. Let your conscience rest, Gala- had ! '* Hunger and request of friends *' were always valid pleas. If a poet invariably asked himself, " Is this original ? Is it something that must be written ? Is it likely to be immortal ?" I suspect our stock of verse would soon be very short.

At least, only the Chiverses and Tuppers and

would still be fruitful.

The Ancient. Did you ever guess at the probable permanence of the things which seem best when they appear } It is a wholesome experi- ment. Macaulay first suggested it to me, in speak- ing of the three per cent, of Southey which might survive : since then, I have found that the Middle

io8 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Ages are an immense graveyard of poems, but nothing to what this century will be. I doubt whether many authors would write, in the mere hope of posthumous fame.

The Gannet. /wouldn't ! My idea of litera- ture is, the possession of a power which you can wield to some purpose while you live. It may also be wealth, another power ; it may be yoked with politics, which is better still ; it may —

Galahad {interrupting). Stop ! don't make me feel that your gift, which I have believed in, is so entirely selfish !

Zoi'LUS {shaking the hat). Here would soon be a precious row between you two ; draw your names and go to work !

The Gannet. What > Henry T. Tuckerman I

Zo'iLUS. To be sure ! I have — Longfellow !

Galahad. Mine is William D. Howells.

The Ancient. I have drawn Richard Henry Stoddard. Now, no changing, remember ! We are better suited than the last time, unless it be Zoilus, of whom I have my doubts. All imitations cannot be equally fortunate, and I'm not sure that any of us would succeed better, if he should take his own time and pains for the task, instead of trusting to the first random suggestion.

NIGHT THE FIFTH. 16$

ZoiLUS. Then, why are you doubtful about me ? I have my random suggestion already.

The Ancient. Work it out! I think you understand my doubt, nevertheless. The Gannet is chuckling to himself, as if he were on the track of something wicked ; I foresee that I must use my authority to-night, if I have any left. ( Writes.)

The Chorus (whispering together). They are very evenly matched. Could any inference be drawn from the manner of each, as he writes t The Gannet has the most sarcastic air, Zoilus is evidently satisfied with his performance, Galahad seems earnest and a little perplexed, and the Ancient is cool and business-like. They have all learned something by practice ; they work much more rapidly than at first.

The Gannet (after all have finished). When you try to grasp anything smooth, your hand slips. In Tuckerman there is only proper smoothness which can be travestied, and you know how difficult that is. (Reads)

ODE TO PROPRIETY*

Thou calm, complacent goddess of the mind, Look on me from thine undisturbed domain ;

Thy well-adjusted leaflets let me bind, As once on youthful, now on manly brain.

no DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Upon thy head there is no hair awry ; I

Thy careful drapery falleth as it should : Thy face is grave ; thy scrutinizing eye ,

Sees only that which hath been stamped as good

Thou art no patron of the strenuous thought

That speaks at will, regardless of old rule ; To thee no neologic lays are brought,

But models of the strictly classic school

Thou teachest me the proper way and sure ;

To no imaginative heights misled, My verse moves onward with a step secure,

Nor hastes with rapture, nor delays with dread.

I do not need to woo the fickle Muse, !

But am her master, justified by thee : All measures must obey me as I choose, •

So long as they are thine. Propriety !

For genius is a fever of the blood.

And lyric rage a strange, disturbing spell : Let fools attempt the torrent and the Hood,

Beside the pensive, placid pond I dwell !

ZoiLUS. You have too much alliteration in the last line : that is not at all proper.

The Gannet. Then it shows the impossibility of reproducing the tone of Pope and Gray in our day. I do not know that Tuckerman attempts <

this in his verse; but I suspect that his prose model is. still Addison.

ZoiLUS. That is really getting to be a sign of

NIGHT THE FIFTH 1 1 1

originality! Mix Addison and Imagination to- gether, and sublimate in a French retort, and where could you have a finer modern style? Tuckerman has all tradition on his side; he re- presents a conservative element in literature, which — though I don't admire it much — I think neces- sary, to keep the wild modern schools in order.

Galahad. It is something new, to hear you take this side.

ZoiLUS. You must not always credit me with being wholly in earnest. I think I am a natural iconoclast; but one might as well assail respect- ability in society as the "classic" spirit in litera- ture. It is impervious to all our shots ; every blow slides off its cold polish. But, candidly, there are times when it seems to refresh me, or, at least, to give me a new relish for something warmer and more pungent.

. The Ancient. I believe you, fully. We should all fare badly, were it not for the colder •works which we hear so oftep depreciated. They make a fireproof temple, in which we may build fires at will. Now, let us hear how you have treated an author who is already a classic, though without the cold polish of which you speak. Very few poets have been complimented by so many ordinary parodies.

ti2 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ZOYLUS. I am aware of that, and I have tried to get as far away as possible from the risk of re- sembling them. {Reads)

NAUVOO.

This is the place: be still for a while, my ^high-pressure

steamboat ! Let me survey the spot where the Mormons builded their

temple. Much have I mused on the wreck and ruin of ancient religions, Scandinavian, Greek, Assyrian, Zend, and the Sanskrit, Yea, and explored the mysteries hidden in Talmudic targums, Caught the gleam of Chrysaor's sword and occulted Orion, Backward spelled the lines of the Hebrew graveyard at New- port, Studied Ojibwa symbols and those of the Quarry of Pipe- stone, Also the myths of the Zulus whose questions converted

Colenso, So, methinks, it were well I should muse a little at Nauvoa

Fair was he not, the primitive Prophet, nor he who succeeded, Hardly for poetry fit, though using the Urim and Thummim. Had he but borrowed Levitical trappings, the girdle and

ephod. Fine-twined linen, and ouches of gold, and bcils and pome- granates, That, indeed, might have kindled the weird necromancy of

fancy. Had he but set up mystical forms, like Astarte or Peor, Balder, or Freya, Quetzalcoatl, Perun, Manabozho, Verily, though to the sense theologic it might be offensive, Great were the gain to the pictured, flashing speech of the poet

NIGHT THE FIFTH. 113

Yet the Muse that delights in Mesopotamian numbers, Vague and vast as the roar of the wind in a forest of pine- trees, Now must tune her strings to the names of Joseph and Brig- ham. Hebrew, the first ; and a Smith before the Deluge was Tubal, Thor of the East, who first made iron ring to the hammer ; So on the iron heads of the people about him, the latter. Striking the sparks of belief and forging their faith in. the

Good Time Coming, the Latter Day, as he called it,— the Kingdom of

Zion. Then, in the words of Philip the Eunuch unto Belshazzar, Came to him multitudes wan, diseased and decrepit of spirit, Came and heard and believed, and builded the temple of Nauvoo.

All is past ;. for Joseph was smitten with lead from a pistol, Brigham went with the others over the prairies to Salt Lake. Answers now to the long, disconsolate wail of the steamer, Hoarse, inarticulate, shrill, the rolling and bounding of ten- pins, — Answers the voice of the bar-tender, mixing the smash and

the julep. Answers, precocious, the boy, and bites a chew of tobacco. Lone as the towers of Afrasiab now is the seat of the Prophet, Mournful, inspiring to verse, though seeming utterly vulgar : Also — for each thing now is expected to furnish a moral — Teaching innumerable lessons for whoso believes and is

patient Thou, that readest, be resolute, learn to be strong and to

suffer ! Let the dead Past bury its dead and act in the Present ! Bear a banner of strange devices, " Forever" and " Never !^

114 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Build in the walls of time the fane of a permanent Nauvoo, So that thy brethren may see it and say, " Go thou and do likewise l**

Galahad. ZoyIus, you are incorrigible. Zoi'LUS (laughing). Just what I expected you to say ! But ifs no easy thing to be funny in hexameters : the Sapphic verse is much more prac- ticable. I heaped together everything I could re- member, to increase my chances. In some of Longfellow's earlier poems the theme and moral are like two sides of a medal ; but I couldn't well copy that peculiarity.

The Gannet. You will only find it in "The Beleaguered City" and " Seaweed." Longfellow is too genuine an artist to fall into that or any other " peculiarity." Just his best, his most purely ima- ginative poems are those which have not been popular, because the reader must be half a poet to appreciate them. What do you consider his best work ?

ZOILUS. " Evangeline," of course.

The Gannet. No, it is the " Golden Legend !" That is the spirit of the Middle Ages, and the feeling of all ages, set to modern melodies. I think I could write an imitation of Longfellow's higher strains— not of those which are so well

NIGHT THE FIFTH 115

known and so much quoted — which would be fairer than yours.

ZOILUS. Do It, and good luck to you. (The Gannet writes)

The Ancient. Not one of our poets has de- served better of his countrymen than Longfellow : he has advanced the front rank of our culture. His popularity has naturally brought envy and dis- paragement upon him ; but it has carried far and wide among the people the influence of his purity, his refinement, and his constant reference to an ideal of life which so many might otherwise forget. As a nation, we are still full of crudity and con- fusion, and his influence, so sweet and clear and steady, has been, and is, more than a merely poetic leaven.

Galahad. I have felt that, without ever think- ing of putting it into words. The sweetness of Longfellow's verse is its most necessary quality, when we consider his literary career in this light ; but I never could see how exquisite finish implies any lack of power. What was that line of Goethe which you quoted to me once. Ancient ?

The Ancient. Nur aus vollendeter Kraft hlkket die Anmuth lurvor^ — only perfected Strength discloses Grace. There are singular ideas in regard

Z—2

Ii6 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

to "power" afloat in literary circles. Why, the sunbeam is more powerful than a thousand earth- quakes ! I judge the power of an author by the influence of his works.

Zoi'LUS. Well, for my part, I don't appreciate " power,'* unless it strikes me square between the eyes. What I understand by "power" is some- thing regardless of elegance, of the conventional ideas of refinement, of what you call "laws of art," — something primitive, lawless, forcing you, with a strong hand, to recognize its existence. The Ancient. Give me a few instances ! ZOILUS {after a pause). Carlyle, — Poe, — Swin- burne, — Emily Bronte's ** Wuthering Heights !"

Galahad. Why not Artemus Ward and Joa- quin Miller?

The Gannet. There ! I never quite succeed when I assume a certain ability. I had in my mind, Zoilus, the " Prometheus and Epimetheus,"- the " Palingenesis," and other poems in the same key ; but it was so difficult to imitate them that I came down one grade and struck into a style more easy to be recognized. It may not be better than yours, but it is not so horribly coarse. (Reads)

ktGHT TliE FIFTH. II7

THE SEWING-MACHINE.

A strange vibration.from the cottage window

My vagrant steps delayed, And half abstracted, like an ancient Hindoo,

I paused beneath the shade.

What iS; I said, this unremitted humming,

Louder than bees in spring ? As unto prayer the murmurous answer coming,

Shed from Sandalphon's wing.

Is this the sound of unimpeded labour,

That now usurpeth play ? Our harsher substitute for pipe and tabor,

Ghittern and virelay ?

Or, is it yearning for a higher vision.

By spiritual hearing heard ? Nearer I drew, to listen with precision.

Detecting not a word.

Then, peering through the pane, as men of sin do,

Myself the while unseen, I marked a maiden seated by the window.

Sewing with a machine.

Her gentle foot propelled the tireless treadle,

Her gentle hand the seam : My fancy said, it were a bliss to peddle

Those shirts, as in a dream !

Her lovely fingers lent to yoke and collar

Some imperceptible taste ; The rural swain, who buys it for a dollar,

By beauty is embraced.

Ii8 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

O fairer aspect of the common mission !

Only the Poet sees The true significance, the high position

Of such small things as these.

Not now doth Toil, a brutal Boanerges,

Deform the maiden's hand ; Her implement its soft sonata merges

In songs of sea and land.

And thus the hum of the unspooling cotton,

Blent with her rhythmic tread. Shall still be heard, when virelays are forgotten,

And troubadours are dead.

ZoiLUS. Ah, you couldn't avoid the moral application !

The Ancient. Neither can you, in imitating Bryant and Whittier. In Longfellow — excepting some half-dozen of his earlier poems — the moral element is so skilfully interfused with the imagina- tive, that one hardly suspects its presence. I should say, rather, that it is an inherent quality of his genius, and, therefore, can never offend like an assumed purpose. I abominate as much as you, Zodus, possibly can, the deliberate intention to preach moral doctrines in poetry. That is turning the glorious guild of authors into a higher kind of Tract Society ! But the purer the poetic ,art, the nearer it approaches the loftiest morality; this is

NIGHT THE FIFTH. 119

a truth which Longfellow illustrates. I have always defended the New England spirit against your prejudices, but this I must admit, that there is a large class of second-rate writers there who insist that every wayward little brook, whose mur- mur and sparkle are reason enough for its exis- tence, must be made to turn some utilitarian mill. Over and over again, I have seen how their literary estimate of our poet is gauged by the assumed relation of the latter to some variety of " Reform." The Abolition of Slavery, first, then Temperance, and now Woman Suffrage, or Spiritualism, or the Labour Question, are dragged by the head and heels into the temple, and sometimes laid upon the very altar, of Letters. The wonder is, that this practice doesn't retrospectively affect their judg- ment, and send Dante and Shakespeare and Milton to their chaotic limbo !

ZoiLUS. Thanks for that much support; but let us hear Galahad !

Galahad. Howells, at least, has escaped some of the troubles through which the older authors have been obliged to pass. His four years in Venice made a fortunate separation between his youthful period and his true sphere of activity. He did not change front, as the rest of us must

I20 - DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

do, in the press of battle. I was very much puz- zled what to select, as specially distinctive, and allowed myself, at last, to be guided by two or three short poems. (Reads)

PREVARICATION. « « « « O

The Ancient." I think I know what you had in your mind. But I was expecting to hear some- thing in hexameters : you know his — ....

ZOILUS. Yes, but ... .

Galahad. It is true to some extent. Still, on the other hand, he ... .

ZpiLUS. Well, after all, we seem to agree tole- rably well. All our younger poets are tending towards greater finish and elegance. It is about time to expect the appearance of a third genera- tion, with all the beauties and faults of their new youth about them. Why, we have hardly any known writer much less than thirty-five years old ! Our lights scarcely begin to burn until the age when Keats's, Shelley's, Byron's, and Burns's went out. Is there something in our atmosphere that hinders development } I always supposed it pos- sessed a greater stimulus.

NIGHT THE FIFTH. i2t

The Ancient. If you look back a little, you will find that Bryant, Willis, Longfellow, and Lowell were known and popular authors at twenty-five. But I have noticed the lack of a younger genera- tion of poets. It is equally true of England, France, and Germany ; none of those who have made a strong impression, whether good or bad, can be called young, with the single exception of Swinburne. Rossetti, though he has appeared so recently, must be forty-five years old ; and in Ger- many the most popular poets — Geibel, Bodenstedt, Hamerling, and Redwitz — are all in middle age. ^I think a careful study of the literary history of the last hundred years would show that we have had both the heroes and the epigonoi; and now nature requires a little rest. Of course, all theories on the subject must be merely fanciful ; half a dozen young fellows of the highest promise may turn up in a month ; but I rather expect to see a good many fallow years.

Galahad. Then I, at least, have fallen on evil times. If I live after our stars have set, and no new ones have arisen, it will be —

ZoiLUS. Your great luck ! Parmi les aveugles, you know; but we are forgetting the Ancient*s imitation.

122 " DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

The Ancient. Stoddard's last volume shows both variety and inequality, but the most of it has the true ring. I was delighted with his gift of poetic narration, in "The Wine-Cup" and "The King's Sentinel;" yet, even in them, there is an undertone of sadness. One can only make a re- cognizable, echo of his verse, in the minor key. {Reads)

THE CANTELOPE.

Side by side in the crowded street,

Amid its ebb and flow. We walked together one autumn morn ;

(Twas many years ago !)

The markets blushed with fruits and flowers j

(Both Memory and Hope !) You stopped and bought me at the stall

A spicy cantelope.

We drained together its honeyed wine,

We cast the seeds away ; 1 slipped and fell on the moony rinds.

And you took me home on a dray J

The honeyed wine of your love is drained ;

I limp from the fall I had j The snow-flakes muffle the empty staU,

And everything is sad.

NIGHT THE FIFTH 123

The sky is an inkstand, upside down.

It splashes the world with gloom ; The earth is full of skeleton bones,

And the sea is a wobbling tomb !

ZOiLUS. I might have written that; what do you say, Galahad ?

Galahad. It is fully as rollicking as yours, but not quite so coarse. I always find in Stoddard a most true and delicate ear for the melody of verse, and I thoroughly enjoy his brief snatches, or " catches," of song. When I disagree with him, it is usually on account of the theme rather than the execution. His collection of "Melodies and Madrigals" gave me the key to his own taste and talent ; he seems to have wandered down to us from the times of Charles I. What has the Gannet been writing all this while }

The Gannet. Something not on our pro- gramme. After trying my hand on Tuckerman and then on Longfellow, I felt fresh for one task ihore ; and we have had so few ladies introduced into our diversions, that I turned to Mrs. Stoddard for a new inspiration. You know how I like her poems, as the efforts of a not purely rhythmic mind to express itself rhythmically. They interest me greatly, as every embodiment of struggle does. A

iU blVERSIONS OF THE ECkO CLUk

commonplace, conventional intellect would never dare to do the things she does, both in prose and verse ; she defies the usual ways to popularity with a most indomitable perseverance.

Galahad, Is not that the way to reach it in the end ?

The Gannet. No man knoweth ; because no one can foresee how the tastes or whims of the mercurial public may turn. Some authors predict their own popularity ; some secretly expect it, and never get it; and some, again, leave works which may seem dead and buried, but are dug up as if by accident, after two or three cen- turies, and become new and delightful to a different race of men. Shall I read you my imitation }

' The Ancient. We wait

The Gannet. {Reads.)

THE NETTLE.

If days were nights, I could their weight endure. This darkness cannot hide from me the plant I seek : I know it by the rasping touch. The moon is wrapped in bombazine of cloud ; The capes project like crooked lobster-shears Into the bobbery of the waves ; the marsh At ebb, has now a miserable smell

NIGHT THE FIFTH. 125

I will not be delayed nor hustled back,

Though every wind should muss my outspread hair,

I snatch the plant that seems my coming fate \

I pass the crinkled satin of the rose,

The violets, frightened out of all their wits,

And other flowers, to me so commonplace,

And cursed with showy mediocrity.

To cull the foliage which repels and stings.

Weak hands may bleed ; but mine are tough with pride,

And I but smile where others sob and screech.

The draggled flounces of the willows lash

My neck ; I tread upon the bouncing rake.

Which bangs me sorely, but I hasten on,

With teeth firm-set as biting on a wire,

And feet and fingers clenched in bitter pain.

This, few would comprehend ; but, if they did,

I should despise myself and merit scorn.

We all are riddles which we cannot guess ;

Each has his gimcracks and his thingumbobs,

And mine are night and nettles, mud and mist.

Since others hate them, cowardly avoid.

Things are mysterious when you make them so,

And the slow-pacing days are mighty queer ;

But Fate is at the bottom of it all.

And something somehow turns up in the end.

ZoiLUS. That IS an echo with a vengeance! But the exaggeration of peculiarities is the best part of our fun ; there you had the advantage. And this proves what I have said, that the "classic" style IS nearly impregnable. How could you exag- gerate it ? You might as well undertake an archi-

126 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

tectural burlesque of the Parthenon. It is the Gothic, Byzantine, Moresque styles in literature which give the true material for travesty, just as they allow the greatest intellectual freedom.

The Ancient. We shall have to dub yoii " the Pugin of Poetry.'* YouVe been taking a hint from Clough's Bothie,

The Gannet. Which Zoflus doesn't like, be- cause of the hexameters, although there never were lighter and less encumbered lines. With all dough's classicism, his is a thoroughly Saxon-Gothic mind. Where will you find a more remarkable combin- ation of richness and subtlety, of scholarly finish and the frankest realism ? He is the only man who has ever made English phrase flow naturally in elegiac cadence. You, certainly, must remember, Ancient ?

" Where, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak- trees immingle, ^ Where amid odorous copse bridle-paths wander and wind, Where under mulberry branches the diligent rivxilet sparkles, Or amid cotton and maize peasants their waterworks ply, Where, over fig-tree and orange in tier upon tier still re- peated. Garden on garden upreared, balconies step to the sky, — Ah, that I were, far away from the crowd and the streets of the city, Under the vine-trellis laid, O my beloved, with thee P'

NIGHT THE FIFTH. 127

ZoiLUS. O, if you once begin to quote, I sur- render.

The Ancient. Let us all part on good terms ; that is, each holding to his own opinion.

\Exeunt

NIGHT THE SIXTH.

{Enter ZoiLUS, last, the others being already assem* bled: he throws down a newspaper on tJte table)

HHERE ! — said ZoYlus — read that notice of my last article in , and tell me whether such criticism is apt to encourage the de- velopment of an American literature !

The Gannet {taking the paper). I see where it IS, by the dint of your thumb-nail ; there are only half a dozen lines, in what 1 should call the sneer- ing-oracular style; but, Zoflus, you have yourself done a great deal of this thing. Now the poisoned chalice is commended to your own lips. It is singular how little sympathy we have for others in such cases. When I am abused, soniebody always sends the paper to me with lin^s drawn around the article, so that I shall not miss it; and all my friends are sure to ask, " Have you seen what So- and-So says ?" When I am praised, nobody sends

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 129

the paper, and my friends take it for granted that I have read the article. I don't complain of them : they are naturally silent when they agree, and aroused when they disagree, with the criticism.

The Ancient. This notice is not fair, of course; but it is only a part of the prevalent fashion of criti- cism. One never can be sure, in such cases, whether the writer is really sincere in his judgment, or whether he has seized an opportunity to make a little literary capital for himself at the expense of the author. But I firmly believe in the ultimate triumph of good work over all these airs of superior knowledge and patronage and contemptuous depre- ciation. A friend of mine once devoted a great deal of time to a very careful and thorough article upon a poet who wrote in a dialect with which not ten men in this country are familiar. He after- wards showed me the critical notices it drew forth, and those which treated the subject with the coolest possible air of knowledge were written by men who knew nothing whatever about it.

Galahad. Then how is the ordinary reader ever to be enlightened }

The Ancient. Most readers, I imagine, simply like, or dislike, what they read. Authors greatly exaggerate the effect of inadequate criticism. Why,

9

130 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

do you know that critical genius is much rarer than poetical ? You are not afraid of the crude poets, who publish in newspaper corners, pushing you from your stools of song : why should you be annoyed by the critics who stand upon the same intellectual plane ? Let me repeat to you what the greatest of critics, Lessing, said : " What is tolerable in my labours is owing solely to the critical faculty. I am, therefore, always ashamed or grieved whenever I hear anything said to the disadvantage of that faculty. It is said to crush genius, and I flattered myself that I had received in it something akin to genius." After Lessing, we can only accept Jeffrey with certain reservations, until we come to Sainte- Beuve. In this country, I call Lowell the first critic, though Whipple and Ripley have high and honourable places. A true critic must not only be a universal scholar, but as clear conscienced as a saint and as tenderly impressible as a woman. After that he may be rigid as Minos.

Zo'iLUS. But you will certainly agree with me, that a critical literature of the kind you describe — intelligent, appreciative, sympathetic, and rigidly just — is much needed }

The Ancient. Never, more than just now.

ZOILUS. What then, frankly, do you think of

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 131

the tone of this paper, and the and

the ?

The Ancient {smiling). They remind me so much of a little satirical poem of Uhland, "The Spring-Song of the Critic," that I am comforted and amused when I might otherwise be most an- noyed. There never was a more admirable picture of that fine, insidious egotism of the spurious critic, which makes Jiim fear to praise, lest admiration should imply inferiority. I can't remember the original lines, or I would translate it for you ; but I might try an American paraphrase.

Omnes. By all means ! (The Ancient writes)

ZoiLUS. I feel as if I had had whiskey poured into an open wound. You made me smart savagely for a few minutes ; but I am already getting com- fortable.

The Gannet. There is no real comfort until you grow pachydermatous ; I don't envy Galahad the seasoning that awaits him.

Galahad. I have part of my experience vica- riously, in Zoilus.

ZoiLUS. The devil you have ! wait, my boy, until you publish your next poem : I'll return it to you, with interest !

The Ancient. Uhland makes the critic walk

9-2

132 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CL UB,

out in the spring-time, and patronise Nature in his usual tone, the very tone of which Zoflus complains. This is a rough imitation : —

H'm ! Spring ? 'Tis popular, we've heard,

And must be noticed, therefore ; Not that a flower, a brook, or bird

Is what we greatly care for.

The trees are budding : immature !

Yet them, no doubt, admire some : One leaf comes like another, sure,

And on the whole it's tiresome.

What kind of bird is this we hear?

The song is vague and mystic : Some notes, we grant, are smooth and clear,

But not at all artistic.

We're not quite sure we wholly like Those ferns that wave and spread so :

Tis safe to doubt the things that strike The eye at once ; we've said so.

An odour? H'm ! it might be worsen :

There must be violets nigh us : Quite passable ! (For Shakespeare's verse,

This time will justify us.)

A native plant ! We don't know what : Some, now, would call it pleasant,

But, really, we would rather not, CoRnmit ourselves, at present

NIGHT THE SIXTH 133

But further time we will not waste,

Neglecting our position ; To scourge the stupid public taste

Is our peculiar mission.

And if men saw us, and should deem

(Those ignorant human brothers !) That we the Spring enjoyed^ we'd seem

No better than the others !

Omnes. Good ! It reads like an original.

The Ancient. It is one, properly : I have not translated any of Uhland's phrases. However, let us change the theme, for this is a dangerous hobby of mine, and we have other work before us. How many names are there still undrawn }

The Gannet (looking in the hat), A dozen yet.

The Ancient {drawing, James Russell Lowell, —I must gird up my loins.

The Gannet. Bayard Taylor.

ZoiLUS. Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Galahad. George H. Boker.

The Gannet. The supply will be exhausted in two or three nights more, and then all our fun must come to an end. There will be nothing left for us, but to travesty each other.

The Chorus. An excellent idea ! Four times

134 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

four, each doing each other and himself also^ will . give us sixteen imitations.

ZoiLUS. No doubt you would enjoy it hugely. Turn to Lucretius for a picture of the delight of sitting on the safe shore and looking at the waves in a storm !

The Chorus. **The swelling and falling of the waves is the life of the sea."

ZoiLUS. Go to, with your quotations ! How easy it is to apply a high moral stimulus to some- body else's mind ! Every poet, in his secret soul, admits his exquisite, quivering sensitiveness for the children of his brain. He may hide it from the sight of every one ; but it is there, or he would not be a poet ; and he is always most artlessly surprised at the betrayal of the same feeling in another. /, of course, should coolly bear any amount of travesty, but how would it be with the Ancient, the Gannet, and Galahad ?

The Gannet. Zoilus, you're a humbug ! Take your pencil and begin your work: see how the Ancient is reeling off his lines !

{They write steadily for fifteen or twenty minutes; then all have finished except The Ancient.

The Ancient. Mine is no easy task, and

NIGHT THE SIXTH ' 135

Tm afraid I have laid it out on too extensive a plan.

Omnes. Go on : we will wait.

The Ancient (ten minutes later). You will sympathise with me, Galahad, for you know how much I like Lowell's poetry. I have followed him from the start, when he seemed like a vigorous young oak, and like an oak he has grown slowly, strongly, and with ever-broadening branches. But one can sport, as well as pray, under your large trees. {Reads)

THE SAGA OF AHAB DOOLITTLE.

Who hath not thought himself a poet ? Who, Feeling the stubbed pin-feathers pricking through His greenish gosling-down, but straight misdeems Himself anointed ? They must run their course, These later measles of the fledgling mind, Pitting the adolescent rose with brown, And after, leaving scars ; and we must bear, Who come of other stirp, no end of roil. Slacken our strings, disorient ourselves. And turn our ears to huge conchyliar valves To hear the shell-hum that would fain be sea.

O guarding thorn of Life's dehiscent bud. Exasperation ! Did we clip thee close, Disai-m ourselves with non-resistent shears, And leave our minds demassachusetted, What fence 'gainst inroad of the spouting throng?

136 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

For Fame's a bird that in her wayward sweep Gossips to all ; then, raven-like, comes home Hoarse-voiced as autumn, and, as autumn leaves Behind her, blown by all the postal winds. Letters and manuscripts from unknown hands. Thus came not Ahab's : his he brought himself, One morn, so clear with impecunious gold. I said : " Chaucer yet lives, and Calderon !" And, letting down the gangways of the mind For shipment from the piers of common life. O'er Learning's ballast meant some lighter freight To stow, for export to Macarian Isles But it was not to be : a tauroid knock Shook the ash-panels of my door with pain, And to my vexed " Come in P Ahab appeared. Homespun, at least, — thereat I swiftly felt Somewhat of comfort,— ^tall, knock-kneed, and gaunt Face windy-red, hands horny, large, and loose. That groped for mine, and finding, dropped at once As half ashamed : and thereupon he grinned. I waited, silent, till the silence grew Oppressive : but he bore it like a man ; Then, as my face still queried, opened wide The stiff portcullis of his rustic speech. Whence issued words : " You'd hardly kalkelate That Fm a poet, but I kind o' guess I be one ; so the people say, to hum." Then from his cavernous armpit drew and gave The singing leaves, not such as erst I knew. But strange, disjointed, where the unmeasured feet Staggered allwhither in pursuit of rhyme. And could not find it : assonance instead, Cases and verbs misplaced— remediable those—

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 137

Broad-shouldered coarseness, fondly meant for wit. I turned the leaves ; his small, gray, hungry eye Stuck like a burr ; agape with hope his mouth. What could I say ? the worn conventional phrase We use on such occasions, — better wait, Verse must have time ; its seed, like timothy-grass, Sown in the fall to sprout the following spring. Is often winter-killed : none can decide ; A single rain-drop prints the eocene, While crow-bars fail on lias : so with song : The Doom is bom in each thing's primitive stufl;

Perchance he understood not ; yet I thrust

Some hypodermic hope within his flesh,

Unconsciously ; erelong he came again.

Would I but see his latest ? I did see ;

Shuddered and answered him in sterner wise,

I love to put the bars up, shutting out

My pasture from the thistle-cropping beasts

Or squealing hybrids, who have range enough

On our New England commons, — whom the Fiend,

Encouragement-of-Native-Talent, feeds

With windy provender, in Waverley,

And Flag, and Ledger, weakly manger-racks.

Months passed : the catbird on the elm-tree sang What " Free from Ahab !" seemed, and I believed. But, issuing forth one autumn morn, that shone As earth were made October twenty-seventh (Some ancient Bible gives the date), he shot Across my path as sped from Ensign's bow. More grewsome, haggard-seeming than before. Ere from his sinister armpit his right hand Could pluck the sheets, I thundered forth, "^'Aroint P

138 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Not using the Anglo-Saxon shibboleth, But exorcismal terms, unusual, fierce. Such as would make a saint disintimate. The witless terror in his face nigh stayed My speech, but I was firm and passed him by. Ah, not three weeks were sped ere he again Waylaid me in the meadows, with these words : " I saw thet suthin' riled you, the last time ; Be you in sperrits now ?" — and drew again — But why go on ? I met him yesterday, ^ The ninteenth time,— pale, sad, but patient still.

When Hakon steered the dragons, there was place, Though but a thrall's, beside the eagle-helms, For him who rhymed instead of rougher work. For speech is thwarted deed : the Berserk fire But smoulders now in strange attempts at verse. While hammering sword-blows mend the halting rhyme, Give mood and tense unto the well-thewed arm, And turn these ignorant Ahabs into bards I

ZoiLUS. Faith ! I think each of us imitates most amusingly the very authors whom he most admires. I might have made something fiercer, but it wouldn't have been more characteristic.

The Gannet. When you seem dissatisfied with Lowell's work, I can still see that you recog- nize his genius. I agree with you that he sometimes mistakes roughness for strength, and is sometimes consciously careless ; but neither his faults nor his virtues are of the common order. I like him for

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 139

the very quality out of which both grow, — his evident faith in the inspiration of the poet. In "The Cathedral" he says "second-thoughts are prose," which is always true of the prime concep- tion ; but he seems often to apply it to the details of verse. His sympathy with the Norse and Nibe- lungen elements in literature, and with the old English ballads, is natural and very strong. Per- haps it is not always smoothly fused with the other spirit which is born of his scholarship and taste and artistic feeling. I care less for that: to my mind he is always grandly tonic and stimulating.

The Ancient. I think the objection which Zoilus makes comes simply from the fact that many of Lowell's poems are over-weighted with ideas. Instead of pouring a thin, smooth stream, he tilts the bottle a little too much, and there is an impetuous, uneven crowding of thought. But I should rather say that he is like his own " Cathe- dral," large, Gothic, with many a flying buttress, pinnacles melting in the air, and now and then a grotesque gargoyle staring down upon you. There is a great range between Hosea Biglow and the Harvard Ode.

ZoiLUS. I confess I don't like unmixed enthu- siasm, and I'm frequently provoked to spy out the

140 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

weak points of any author who gets much of it. How I should feel if it were bestowed on me, I can't tell; probably as complacent as the rest of you.

The Gannet. O Zoilus, when you know that Fm only considered " brilliant," and get the most superficial praise !

The Ancient. Come, come ! This is a sort of personality. Who's next ?

Galahad. Zoilus was ready first.

Zoi'LUS. Yes, and none too soon. Mrs. Barrett Browning was a tough subject for me, and I was glad to get her off my hands. Do you know that it is much more difficult to travesty a woman's poem than a man's ? {Reads)

GWENDOLINE.

'T was not the brown of chestnut boughs

That shadowed her so finely ; It was the hair that swept her brows.

And framed her face divinely ; Her tawny hair, her purple eyes,

The spirit was ensphered in, That took you with such swift surprise,

Provided you had peered in.

Her velvet foot amid the moss

And on the daisies patted, As, querulous with sense of loss,

It tore the herbage matted :

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 141

• • And come he early, come he late,"

She saith, "it will undo me; The sharp fore-speeded shaft of fate

Already quivers through me.

••When I beheld his red-roan steed,

I knew what aim impelled it ; And that dim scarf of silver brede,

I guessed for whom he held it ; J recked not, while he flaunted by,

Of Love's relentless violence, Yet o'er me crashed the siunmer sky,

In thunders of blue silence.

•* His hoof-prints crumbled down the vale,

But left behind their lava ; What should have been my woman's mail.

Grew jellied as guava : I looked him proud, but 'neath my pride

I felt a boneless tremor ; He was the Beer, I descried.

And I was but the Seemer !

"Ah, how to be what then I seemed,

And bid him seem that is so!- We always tangle threads We dreamed,

And contravene our bliss so. I see the red-roan steed again !

He looks, as something sought he : Why, hoity toity ! — he is fain,

So /'ll be cold and haughty T

The Ancient. You have done about as well as could be expected ; but I am not sure that I should

142 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

have recognized it, without the red-roan steed and the thunders of blue silence. However> Mrs. Browning's force is always so truly feminine that one cannot easily analyze it. There is an under- lying weakness — or, at least, a sense of reliance— when she is most vigorous, and you feel the beating of an excited pulse when she is most calmly classic. She often slips into questionable epithets and in- congruous images, I grant you ; but I can see the first form of her thought through them.

Galahad. Has any other woman reached an equal height in English poetry ?

The Chorus. No !

The Gannet. George Eliot }

Zoi'LUS. Now you bring the two squarely before my mind, I also say, No ! I do not rightly know where to place George Eliot.

The Ancient. Among the phenomena — unsurpassed as a prose writer, and with every quality of the poet except the single one which is bom and never acquired. It is amazing to see how admirable her verse is, and how near to high poetry — as if only a sheet of plate glass were between — and yet it is not poetry. Her lines are like the dancing figures on a frieze, symmetry itself, but they do not move. When I read then: I am

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 143

always on the very vet^e of recognizing her as a poet, always expecting the warm-blooded measures which sing their way into my own blood, and yet I never cross the invisible boundary.

The Gannet. Shall we go on ? I have Bayard Taylor, who took possession of me readily enough. I know his earlier Oriental better than his later poems. He doesn't seem to have any definite place yet as a poet.

Zo'iLUS. Then it comes of having too many irons in the fire.

Galahad. He may have made some mistakes ; indeed, I think so myself; but I find signs of a struggle towards some new form of developnjent in his later poems, and mean to give him a little more opportunity. His rhetoric is at the same time his strength and his weakness, for it has often led him away from the true substance of poetry.

The Ancient. There you are right, Galahad. Nature and the sensuous delight of life for a while got the upper hand of him, and he wrote many things which aimed to be more, and were not. I think better of his later direction ; but how far it will carry him depends on his industry and faith. Let us have the echo !

The Gannet. {Reads)

144 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

HADRAMAUT.

The grand conglomerate hills of Araby,

That stand empanoplied in utmost thought, With dazzling ramparts front the Indian sea, Down there in Hadramaut.

The sunshine smashes in the doors of mom

And leaves them open ; there the vibrant calm Of life magniloquent pervades forlorn The giant fronds of palm.

The cockatoo upon the upas screams ;

The armadillo fluctuates o'er the hill ; And Uke a flag, incarnadined in dreams. All crimsonly I thrill I

There have iconoclasts no power to harm,

So, folded grandly in translucent mist,

I let the light stream down my jasper arm.

And o'er my opal fist.

An Adamite of old, primeval Earth,

I see the Sphinx upon the porphyry shore, Deprived of utterance ages ere her birth. As I am, — only more !

Who shall ensnare me with invested gold,

Or paper symbols, backed like malachite ! Let gaunt reformers objurgate and scold, I gorge me with delight.

I do not yearn for what I covet most ;

I give the winds the passionate gifts I sought ; And slumber fiercely on the torrid coast, Down there in Hadramaut !

NIGHT THE SIXTH. • 145

Galahad. That is extravagantly and absurdly- like some of his poems. You seem to have had in your mind the very feature I mentioned, — his rheto- ric. I doubt whether I shall succeed as well with Boker. He and Bayard Taylor are both Pennsyl- vanians, of nearly the same age, yet they are not at all alike.

The Ancient. I remember Boker's first volume. There was a flavour of the Elizabethan English about it, which was unusual at the time. TJien came his tragedy of "Calaynos," one of the few successful modern plays formed on the old classic models; it ran for nearly a hundred nights in England. But you cannot imitate his best work, which is in this and the later plays; you must choose between his ballads and his sonnets.

Galahad. I have tried something half ballad and half song, in his style. {Reads)

phebe the fair.

I lie and I languish for Phebe the Fair,

Ah, welladay 1 The blue of her eyes, the brown of her hair, The elbows that dance and the ankles that gleam, As she bends at her washing-tub there by the stream, Disdaining to see me, so what can I say

But| ah| welladay I

10

J46 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

I met her last night when the moon was at full^ ^

Alas and alack ! Bewitchingly hooded with mufflers of wool ; Her cloak of gray duffle she wore to a charm, So boldly I offered the maiden my arm, But she coolly responded, "You take the back track!*

Alas and alack !

Though Vm but a blacksmith and Hugo a lord,

Sing hey, nonny nonny 1 Though I've but a hammer and he has a sword, When he leans from his destrier Phebe to greet, I could smash him to cinders before her white feet, For lords have no business with maidens so bonny,

Sing hey, nonny nonny I

IVe given up Margery, given up Maud,

Ah, welladay, Phebe 1 But the snow of your bosom by love is unthawed ; The hues of my life are all fading, I guess. As the calico fades in the suds that you bless : You are scouring the heart of your languishing G. B,

Ah, welladay, Phebe !

The Gannet. I remember those ballads, with a curious antique flavour about them; but I am best acquainted with Boker's sonnets. I don't think they have been appreciated as they deserve ; but then, there are hardly twelve sonnets in the English language which can be called popular. Take one of Keats, three of Wordsworth, three of

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 147

Milton, possibly Blanco White's one, and four or five of Shakespeare, and you have nearly all that are familiarly known. I'll try my hand at an imitation of Boker's grave, sustained measure. ( Writes)

The Ancient. No one of our authors is so isolated as he, and it is a double disadvantage. When Philadelphia ceased to be a literary centre, which happened very suddenly and unexpectedly, the tone of society there seemed to change. Instead of the open satisfaction of Boston in her brilliant circle of authors, or the passive indifference of our New York, there is almost a positive depreciation of home talent in Philadelphia. Boker is most disparaged in his native city, and most appreciated in New England. There is always less of petty envy where the range of culture is highest.

ZoiLUS. No, there is not less, granting the culture to be higher ; there is only more tact and policy in expressing it.

The Gannet. Listen to Boker's 999th sonnet, dictated through me ! {Reads)

I charge not with degrees of excellenc6 That fair revolt which rested on thy name^ Nor burden with uncomprehended blame

XO— 2

148 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The speech, which still eludes my swooning sense,

Though this poor rhyme at least were some defence

Against thy chill suspicion : yet, if Fame

Lift up and burnish what is now my shame,

'Twould mitigate a passion so intense.

This trampled verse awhile my heart relieves

From stringent pain, that cleft me as I turned

Away from beauty, graciously displayed ;

And still one dominant emotion cleaves

The clouds, whereon thy passing lustre burned,

And leaves behind it gulfs of blacker shade.

Galahad. How could you echo the tone and atmosphere of a sonnet, without adding one particle of sense ?

The Gannet. Attribute it to my empty head, if you please. I really cannot explain how these imitations arise in my mind. In the "trance condition,** you know, one is void of all active consciousness.

ZOILUS. If you go on indulging such an idea you will end by becoming a professional medium.

The Gannet. Well,— at least I'll dictate to the world better verse than has ever yet come, in that way, from the unfortunate dead poets.

Galahad. Could you equal Demosthenes ?

The Ancient. For the sake of Human Reason let us drop that subject I There -ire some

NIGHT THE SIXTH. 149

aberrations which dishearten us, and it is best simply to turn our backs on them. For my part, I crave music. Zoljus, give us Herrick's "Julia/* before the stirrup-cup !

NIGHT THE SEVENTH.

in IS night the Gannet led the way to the more earnest conversation, by returning to a point touched by the Ancient at their fifth meeting. He said, " I should like to know wherein the period of fermentation, which precedes the appearance of an important era in literature, and the period of subsidence, or decadence, which follows it, differ from each other."

ZoiLUS. H'm! that's rather a tough problem to be solved at a moment's warning. I should guess that the difference is something like that between the first and second childhood of an individual. In the first case, the faults are natural, heedless, grace- ful, and always suggestive of something to be developed ; in the latter, they are helpless repeti- tions, which point only towards the past.

Qalahad. Are you not taking the correspond-

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 151

ence for granted? Is it exactly justified by the history of any great era in literature ?

The Ancient. Not entirely. But there is surely an irregular groping for new modes of thought and new forms of expression, in advance ; and a struggle, after the masters of the age have gone, to keep up their pitch of achievement.

The Gannet. Very well ; you are near enough in accord to consider my next question. In which period are we living at present? The Ancient says that we have had the heroes and the epigonoi^ and that there will be many fallow years : I, on the contrary, feel very sure that we are approaching another great era ; and the confusion of which he spoke the other night is an additional proof of it.

The Ancient. If you remember, I disclaimed any power of prediction.

The Gannet. So you did; but I insist that the reasons you gave are just as powerful against your conclusions, unless you can show us that the phenomena of our day are those which invariably characterize a period of decadence. I have been reflecting upon the subject with more earnestness than is usual to me. In our modern literature I do not find echoes of any other than the masters who are still living and producing, especially Browning,

152 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Longfellow, and Tennyson ; the faint reflections of Poe seem to have ceased ; and the chief character- istic of this day, so far as the younger authors are concerned, is a straining after novel effects, new costumes for old thoughts, if you please, but cer- tainly something very different from a mere repeti- tion of forms of style which already exist. That there is confusion, an absence of pure, clearly outlined ideals of art, I am willing to admit. I accept the premises, but challenge the in- ferences.

Galahad. I am only too ready to agree with you.

The Ancient. What I wish is, that we should try to comprehend the literary aspects of our time. If we can turn our modern habit of introversion away from our individual selves, and give it more of an objective character (though this sounds rather paradoxical), it will be a gain in every way. A period of decadence is not necessarily characterized by repetition ; it may manifest itself in exactly such straining for effect as the Gannet admits. Poe, for instance, or Heine, or Browning, makes a new manner successful ; what more natural, then, than that an inferior poet should say to himself, "The manner is everything ; I will invent one for myself!"

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 153

I find something too much of this prevalent, and it does not inspire me with hope.

ZOYLUS. But the costume of the thought, as of the man, is really more important than the body it hides. And I insist that manner is more than symmetry, or even strength, as the French have been shrewd enough to discover. We are moving towards an equal brilliancy of style, only most of us are zigzagging on all sides of the true path. But we shall find it, and then, look out for a shining age of literature!

The Gannet {to the Ancient). You were speaking of the introversion which is such a charac- teristic of modem thought. Can a writer avoid it, without showing, in the very effort, that he pos- sesses it }

The Ancient. I doubt it. Goethe tried the experiment, and did not fairly succeed. It seems to me that the character of an author is relative to the highest culture of his generation. I have never found that there was much development without self-study; for the true artist must know the exact measure of his qualities, in order to use them in his one true way. This is a law as applicable to • Shakespeare as to you ; but he may choose to con- ceal the process, and you may choose to betray it.

154 DIVERSIONS OF. THE ECHO CLUB.

For a poet to speculate upon his own nature, in his poems, is a modern fashion, which originated with Wordsworth. To us it seems an over-conscious- ness ; yet it may seem the height of naive candour, and therefore a delightful characteristic, to the critics of two centuries hence.

ZoiLUS. Well, upon my word, Ancient, you are the most bewildering of guides ! You talk of eter- nal laws, you refer to positive systems, but when we come to apply them, there is nothing perma- nent, nothing settled, only a labyrinth of perhapses, and may-seems. What are we to do }

The. Gannet {offering the luit). To draw your name, and write.

ZoiLUS {drawing). Julia Ward Howe: and I feel no mission within me ! I shall miserably fail.

The Gannet. Jean Ingelow: I need no mission.

Galahad. The saints help me ! Walt Whit- man.

The Ancient. Buchanan Read : / must call on the Pope, to judge from the last poem of his which I have read. There are but one or two more slips in the hat : whom have we } Piatt, Bret Harte, Joaquin Miller ! Galahad, I suggest that you re- . turn our yawping cosmos, and take Piatt in his

I

NIGHT THE SE \^EN TH 155

stead ; then let us add John Hay, and we shall have all the latest names together for our next and final night of diversions.

The Gannet. I second your proposal. It will separate the last and most curious phenomena in poetry from those which preceded them. Perhaps we may be able to guess what they portend.

Galahad (changing the name). I am so grateful for the permission, that I will write two ; adding to the imitation of Piatt that of the author of "A Woman's Poems," in whose poetical fortunes, I imagine, he feels more interest than even in his own. I am attracted by her poems, as the Gannet is at- tracted by Mrs. Stoddard's, though the two are wholly unlike. In " The Woman " I also see indi- cations of a struggle between thought and language, a reluctance to catch the flying Psyche by the wings, and hold her until every wavering outline is clear. Women-poets generally stand in too much awe of their own conceptions.

ZoiLUS. {solemnly), I am possessed ! Procul, O proculy — or at least be silent. ( Writes)

{All write steadily^ and finish their tasks nearly at the same time)

The CHO?iys. You came up so nearly neck and

156 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

neck, that only we who timed you can decide. The Gannet first.

The Gannet. Then hearken to Jean Ingelow, {Reads)

THE SHRIMP-GATHERERS.

Scarlet spaces of sand and ocean.

Gulls that circle and winds that blow \ Baskets and boats and men in motion,

Sailing and scattering to and fro.

Girls are waiting, their wimples adorning With crimson sprinkles the broad gray flood ;

And down the beach the blush of the morning Shines reflected from moisture and mud.

Broad from the yard the sails hang limpy ;

Lightly the steersman whistles a lay ; Pull with a will, for the nets are shrimpy,

Pull with a whistle, our hearts are gay !

Tuppence a quart ; there are more than fifty !

Coffee is certain, and beer galore : Coats are corduroy, and minds are thrifty,

Won't we go it on sea and shore !

See, behind, how the hills are freckled With low white huts, where the lasses bide I

See, before, how the sea is speckled With sloops and schooners that wait the tide !

Yarmouth fishers may rail and roister, Tyne-side boys may shout, " Give way 1"

Let them dredge for the lobster and oyster, Pink and sweet are our shrimps to-day !

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 157

Shrimps and the delicate periwinkle,

Such are the sea-fruits lasses love : Ho ! to your nets till the blue stars twinkle,

And the shutterless cottages gleam above !

The Chorus. A very courteous echo. The Ancient was next.

The Ancient. I think if Buchanan Read had confined himself to those short, sweet, graceful lyrics' by which he first became known, he would have attained a better success. It is singular, by- the-by, that his art does not colour his poetry, as in Rossetti's case ; no one could guess that he is also a painter. But I remember that Washington All- ston is a similar instance. Read's best poems are those which have a pastoral character, and I have turned to them for his characteristic manner. {Reads.)

A SYLVAN SCENE.

The moon, a reaper of the ripened stars.

Held out her silver sickle in the west ; I leaned against the shadowy pasture-bars,

A hermit, with a burden in my breast.

The lilies leaned beside me as I stood ;

The lilied heifers gleamed beneath the shed ; And spirits from the high ancestral wood

Cast their articulate benisons on my head.

158 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The twilight oriole sang her valentine From pendulous nests above the stable-sill,

And like a beggar, asking alms and wine, Came the importunate murmur of the mill

Love threw his flying shuttle through my woof, And made the web a pattern I abhorred ;

Wherefore alone I sang, and far aloof. My melting melodies, mightier than the sword.

The white-sleeved mowers, coming slowly home, With scythes like rainbows on their shoulders hung,

Sniffed not, in passing me, the scent of Rome, Nor heard the music trickling from my tongue.

The milkmaid, following, delayed her step. Still singing as she left the stable-yard :

Twas " Sheridan's Ride" she "sang : I turned and wep\ For woman's homage soothes the suffering bard.

Galahad. Why didn't you take Read's " Drift- ing?"

The Ancient. It is a beautiful poem, but would betray itself in any imitation. My object was to catch his especial poetic dialect.

The Chorus. Now, Zoilus.

Zo'iLUS. I have followed exactly the Ancient's plan, but with the disadvantage of not having read Mrs. Howe's "Passion, Flowers" lately; so I was forced to take whatever features were accessible, from her prose as well as verse. {Reads)

NIGHT THE SEVENTH, • 159

THE COMING RACE.

When with crisped fingers I have tried to part

The petals which compose The azure flower of high aesthetic art,

More firmly did they close.

Yet woman is not undeveloped man, —

So singeth Tennyson : Desire, that ever Duty's feet outran,

Begins, but sees not done.

Our life is full of passionate dismay

At larger schemes grown small ; That which thou doest, do this very day.

Then art thou known of alL

The thing that was ungerms the thing to be ;

Before reflects Behind : So blends our moral trigonometry

With spheroids of the mind.

Time shall transfigure many a paradox, Now crushed with hoofs of scorn,

When in the beauty of the hollyhocks The Coming Man is born.

His hand the new Evangels then shall hold.

That make earth epicene. And on his shoulder, coifled with chrismal gold.

The Coming Woman lean I

The Gannet. Oh, she should not lean on his shoulder ! That is a dependent attitude.

ZoiLUS, I know ; but there is the exigency of

i6o . DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB,

an immediate rhyme, and "epicene" is a word which I could not sacrifice.

The Ancient. You have hit upon one of the vices of our literary class, — the superficial refine- ment which vents itself on words and phrases. I have seen expressions of both love and grief which were too elegant for passion. The strong thought always finds the best speech, but as its total form : it does not pause to prink itself by the way, or to study its face in a glass. I beg pardon, Zo'ilus ; I am not speaking of, \>\xtfrom you.

ZoiLUS. As the sinner furnishes more texts than the saint.

The Chorus. Let us not keep Galahad waiting.

Galahad. I promised two, but have only finished the first. The Gannet must keep me com- pany ; for we were nigh forgetting William Winter, and he must be entertained before our board is cleared for the last comers. I daresay we shall remember others; indeed, I can think of several who ought to please the Ancient, for they siniply give us their ideas without any manner at all.

The Ancient. Sarcasm from Galahad is sarcasm indeed! I am assailed on all sides, to- niglrt. But let us have Piatt ; we have all looked through his "Western Windows."

NIGHT THE SEVENTH l6i

Galahad. {Reads)

THE OLD FENCE RAIL.

It lies and rots by the roadside,

Among the withering weeds ; The blackberry-vines run o'er it,

And the thistles drop their seeds.

Below, the Miami murmurs ;

He flows as he always flowed ; And the people, eastward and westward.

Travel the National Road.

At times a maiden's glances

Gild it with tints of dawn. But the school-boy snorts with his nostrils,

Kicks it, and hastens on.

Above it the pioneer's chimney,

Lonely and rickety, leans ; Beside it the pioneer's garden

Is a wildering growth of greens.

It was split by the stalwart settler,

One of the ancient race. And the hands of his tow-haired childrea

Lifted it into its place.

Years after the gawky lover

Sat on it, dangling his heels. While his girl forgot her milking,

And the pen, with its hungr}' squeals.

Ah, the rail has its own romances.

The scenes and changes of years : I pause whenever I see it.

And drop on it several tears.

It

i63 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ZoXLUS. Don't you all feel, with me, that our imitations become more and more difficult as wc take the younger authors who give us sentiment, fancy, pure metres, — in short, very agreeable and meritorious work, — but who neither conquer us by their daring nor provoke us by offending our tastes ?

The Ancient. We foresaw this, the first evening, you will remember. There are many excellent poets, who cannot be amusingly travestied, — Collins, or Goldsmith, for example. I was just deliberating whether to suggest the names of two women who have written very good poems, Lucy Larcom and she who calls herself " H. H.** The former has rhetoric and rhythm, and uses both quite independently ; her " Hannah Binding Shoes" struck an original vein, which I wish she had gone on quarrying. But her finest poem, "The Rose Enthroned," could only be appreciated by about one per cent of her readers. "H. H." shows deli- cacy and purity of sentiment, yet her verse is not precisely song. Her ear fails to catch the rarer music which lurks behind metrical correctness. I don't well see how either could be imitated ; so we will leave the Gannet and Galahad to their second task.

The Ga^ijet {looking ujf). What you have been

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 163

saying also applies to my present model. Just the best poems in his "Witness" are so simple, so sweetly and smoothly finished, so marked by pure taste and delicate fancy, that a good travesty would have the air of a serious imitation.

ZoiLUS {to the Ancient). However we may disagree, I heartily join you in relishing a marked individuality in poetry.

The Ancient. When it is honest, when it frankly expresses the individual nature, not too much restricted by the conventionalisms of the day, nor yielding too indolently to the influences of other minds. It is a notable characteristic of nearly all our younger poets, that they wander, as if at random, over such a wide field, before selecting their separate paths. One cause of this, I should guess, is the seduction exercised by that refinement in form, that richness and variety of metrical effect, which marks our modern poetry. Twenty years ago, our only criticism almost ignore^ the idea in a poem; it concerned itself with words, lines, or stanzas, italicizing every agreeable little touch of fancy, as a guide to the reader. Leigh Hunt made this fashion popular ; Poe imitated him ; and our young authors were taught to believe in detached beauties of expression, instead of pure and symme-

11—2

i64 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB. •

trical conceptions. Take the earlier poems of Stoddard, Read, Aldrich, Bayard Taylor, and others, and you cannot fail to see how they were led astray.

ZoXLUS. Then, I suppose, their genuine poetical quality is tested by the extent to which they have emancipated themselves from those early influences, and discovered their proper individualities 1

The Ancient. Most certainly ; and if you had grown up with the generation as I have (being very little older), you would see, as I do now, how each is struggling out of the general wilderness. Boker had not far to go; he grew up under the broad wings of the old English dramatists. Stoddard first struck his highest performance in "The Fisher and Charon," and Stedman in his "Alectryon," though both are still best known by their aghter lyrics. Aldrich seems now to be aware of his native grace and delicacy of fancy, and Howells of the sportive, lightsome element, which the Weltsch- merz of youth for a time suppressed. In his " Pas- torals," Bayard Taylor seems inclined to seek for the substance of poetry, rather than the flash and glitter of its rhetorical drapery. Piatt is turning more and more to that which lies nearest him : in short, 'vithout pretending to decide how far each is

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 165

successful, I think that each, now, is attending seriously to his own special work.

ZOYLUS. How much longer do you give them, to reach their highest planes of performance ?

The Ancient. All their lives ; and I refer you to Bryant, Emerson, Longfellow, and Whittier, as instances of continuous development. If our Ameri- can atmosphere, as you said the other night, retards the growth of literary men, you cannot deny that it wonderfully prolongs the period of their growth.

The Gannet. Here have Galahad and myself been waiting with our manuscripts, knowing that you two can never agree, but hoping that each might exhaust the other.

ZoiiLUS. This from you, for whom there is neither time, space, nor place, when you get fairly started! But who are you now?

The Gannet. William Winter, at your service. (Reads)

LOVE'S DIET.

There be wlio crave the flavours rich

Of boneless turkey and of beef ; There be who seek the relish which

To palsied palates brings relief : But I, in love's most patient hush, Partake with thee of simple musb^

1 66 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

The pheasant seems so bright of wing,

Because 'tis wedded with expense ; The rarer Strasburg pasties bring

But fleet enjoyment to the sense ; Yet common things, that seem too nigh, Both purse and heart may satisfy.

T is sweet to browse on dishes rare When those who give them can afford :

Sweeter this unpretending fare, When thou art seated at the board,

With spoonly fingers to unfold

The yielding mush's mass of gold.

Thou pour'st the milk that whiter seems

Than is the orbit of thy brow, And I indulge with lamb-like dreams,

And many a white and harmless vow ; I only wish that there could be One bowl, not two, for thee and me.

ZoYLUS. I was not expecting even that much success.

The Gannet. Galahad was generous, to give me the lighter task. It would have quite bewil- dered me to imitate "A Woman's Poems," because their chief characteristic is a psychological one. If we had taken that wonderful volume of the song- stresses of the " South-Land," now —

ZoYLUS. That reminds me of a graceful Southern singer, who is like a bird alone in the desert, —

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 167

Paul H. Hayne. Talk of our lack of sympathy and encouragement, here, in New York! What mate has he, for hundreds of miles around him ? Why, there is not even the challenge of a rival lance ; he must ride around the lonely lists, with neither antagonist to prove his mettle, nor queen to crown him for success.

The Ancient. An author must have an audi- ence, however thin. We are told that Poetry is its own exceeding great reward : very well : but what if you sing your song into the air and never find it again in the heart of a friend } Genius without sympathetic recognition is like a kindled fire with- out flue or draught ; it smoulders miserably away instead of leaping, sparkling, and giving cheer. I have seen some parts of the country where a man of sensitive, poetical nature would surely die, if he could not escape. We ought to be very tender towards all honest efforts in literature.

Galahad. The "Woman" whom I have imi- tated needs only the encounter of kind, yet positive, minds, to give her dreams what they still lack, — a distinct reality. I have purposely tried to exag- gerate her principal fault, for it was the only thing I could do. {Reads)

l68 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

THE PLASTER CAST.

The white thought sleeps in it enshrined, Though mean and cheap the substance seemSj

As sleep conceptions in the mind, Hardened, and unreleased by dreams.

A parrot only ! yet the child

Stares with untutored, dim surprise. And fain would know what secret mild

Is ambushed in those moveless eyes.

His cherry from the painted beak

Falls, when his gentle hand' would give^

So early some return we seek From that which only seems to live.

Ah, let us even these symbols guard,

Nor shatter them with curious touch ; For, should we break ideals hard,

The fragments would not move us much.

ZoiLUS. You have fairly bewildered me, Gala- had. I thought there was an actual idea in the verses, but it slips from my hand like an eel.

The Ancient. It v\^ould better ansvi^er for the travesty of a school which has a limited popularity at present, but to which "A Woman" does not belong.

Galahad. What school > I know of none such.

The Ancient. The most active members would no doubt be much astonished if I were to tell them

NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 169

of it ; but it is a kind of school, nevertheless. I think it must have originated as long ago as the days of The Dial^ and has not yet wholly gone out of fashion with a rather large class of readers. You will find plenty of specimens in newspapers of a mixed religious and literary character, and now and then in the magazines.

The Chorus. Give us its peculiarities.

The Ancient. First, great gravity, if not solemnity of tone; a rhythm, sometimes weak, sometimes hard, but usually halting; obscurity and incoherence of thought, and a perpetual refer- ence to abstract morality.

ZOiLUS. Don't describe, but imitate.

The Ancient. I could give you a stanza, by way of illustration. Furnish me with a subject, — anything you please. (ZoiLUS writes) T/te Fifth Wheel! that will answer! for the poets of this school always begin far away from their themes. The first stanza might run thus : — '

From sunshine and from moral truth Let Life be woven athwart thy breast

The rapid cycles of thy youth But fetter Duty's solemn quest.

Omnes. Go on!

The Ancient, Now I may get a little nearer

170 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

to the subject, though I don't clearly see how. {After a pause)

Vibration gives but faint assent To that which in thee seems complete,

But time evolves the Incident Behind the dust-driven chariot's feet

Be well provided ! Overplus Is Life's stem law, none can evade ;

Thou to the goal shalt hasten thus. When selfish natures* wheels are stayed.

ZOYLUS. Great Jove! to think that I never dis- covered the undying Laura Matilda in this prim di^uise! It is the languishing creature grown older, with a high-necked dress, a linen collar, and all her curls brushed smooth? Ancient, you have purged mine eyes from visual film ; this boon wipes out all remembrance of our strife.

Omnes. Enough for to-night !

[Exeimt

NIGHT THE EIGHTH.

{All the members promptly on hand)

HE CHORUS. How much does any author distinctly know of himself, or the quality of his works ?

ZOYLUS. Not much.

Galahad. Everything !

The Gannet. Only what makes a hit, and what does n't.

The Ancient. It depends on who and what the author is : you will find both extremes repre- sented.

The Chorus. Yourselves, for instance I

ZOYLUS. To be frank, I think I have more merit than luck. But when I come to contrast the degrees of popularity with the character of the performance, I am puzzled.

Galahad. Popularity has nothing to do with

172 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

it. I know that some of my qualities are genuine, while other necessary ones are weakly represented. Our talk, the last night, satisfied me that I have not yet found the one best direction ; but, on the other hand, one dare not force one's own development, and I think I see whither I am tending.

The Gannet. Do you want to see where you stand, now, or very nearly the spot ?

Galahad. Show me if you can 1

{Tke Gannet takes a sheet of paper and writes^

ZOYLUS (to the Ancient). Do you think that a poet is generally a correct judge of his own works ?

The Ancient. Please, don't repeat that dismal platitude! A genuine poet is always the best judge of his own works, simply because he has an ideal standard by which he measures whatever he does. He may not be able to guess what will be most popular ; he may attach an exorbitant value to that which is born of some occult individual mood, in which few others can ever share ; but in regard to the quality of the calm, ripened product of his brain he cannot be mistaken! To admit that he can be, substitutes chance for law in the poetic art, and brings us down to the vulgar idea of

Drgitized by VjOOQIC

NIGHT THE EIGHTH, 173

a wayward and accidental inspiration, instead of conscious growth followed by conscious achievement

ZoiLUS. You astonish me.

The Ancient. Then be glad ; it is a sign that you are not poetically blasL

Galahad. Never! One can never be that.

The Gannet. Wait till you hear how your theorbo sounds in my ears. What I have attempted is a serious, not a comical, echo of your style.

Omnes. Give it to us!

The Gannet. Ke«p Galahad's hands off me till I have finished! ^{Reads)

THE TWO LIVES.

Down in the dell I wandered,

The loneliest of our dells, Where grow the lowland lilies,

Dropping their foam-white bells. And the brook among the grasses

Toys with its sand and shells.

Fair were the meads and thickets.

And sumptuous grew the trees, And the folding hills of harvest

Were lulled with the fanning breeze, But I heard, beyond the valley.

The roar of the plunging seas.

The birds and the vernal grasses,

They wooed me sweetly and long, But the magic of ocean called me,

Murmuring vast and strong ;

174 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

Here was the flute-like cadence, There was the world-wide song I

• • Lie in the wood*s embraces,

Sleep in the dell's repose !" " Float on the limitless azure,

Flecked with its foamy snows !*' Such were the changing voices.

Heard at the twilight's close.

Free with the winds and waters,

Nestled in shade and dew : Bliss in the soft green shelter,

Fame on the boundless blue : Which shaH I yield for ever ?

Which for ever pursue ?

Omnes (flapping their hands), Galahad ! Galahad !

Galahad (;with a melancholy air). It is worse than the most savage criticism. There is just enough of my own sentiment and poetical manner in it, to show me how monstrously blind I have been in not perceiving that scores of clever fellows may write the same things, if they should choose. I ought to relapse into the corner of a country newspaper.

The Ancient. Take heart, my dear boy! We all begin with sentiment and melodious -rhythm, — or what seems to us to be such. We all discover the same old metaphors over again, and they are as

NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 175

new to us as if they had never been used before, Very few young poets have the slightest presenti- ment of their coming development. They have the keenest delight, the profoundest satisfaction, with their crudest works. With knowledge comes the sense of imperfection, which increases as they rise in performance. Remember that the Gannet is five or six years older than you, and can now write in cold blood what only comes from the summer heat of your mind.

Galahad. I understand you, and don't mean to be discouraged. But Zo'dus is fully avenged now.

Zoi'LUS. I'll prove it by my notice of your next

poem in the . Let us turn to our remaining

models. Whatever may be thought of them at home, they have all made a very positive impres- sion in England; how do you account for it. Ancient ?

The Ancient. I can only guess at an explana- tion, apart from the merits which three of them certainly possess. While the average literary cul- ture in England was perhaps never so high as now, the prevalent style of writing was never so conven- tional. The sensational school, which has been so popular here as well as there, is beginning to fatigue

176 ^ DIVERSIONS OP THE ECHO CLUB.

the majority of readers, yet it still spoils their en- joyment of simple, honest work ; so, every new ap- pearance in literature, which is racy, which carries the flavour of a fresh soil with it, unconventional, yet seemingly natural, neither suggesting the super- ficial refinement of which they are surfeited nor the nobler refinement which they have forgotten how to relish, — all such appearances, I suspect, furnish just the change they qrave.

The Gannet. But the changes of popular taste in the two countries are very similar. This is evi- dent in the cases of Bret Harte and Hay; but Walt Whitman seems to have a large circle of en- thusiastic admirers in England, and only some half- dozen disciples among us. Do you suppose that the passages of his " Leaves of Grass,*' which are prose catalogues to us, or the phrases which are our slang, have a kind of poetical charm there, because they are not understood ?

Zo]fLUS. As Tartar or Mongolian "Leaves of Grass " might have to us ? Very likely. There are splendid lines and brief passages in Walt Whit- man : there is a modern half-Bowery-boy, half- Emersonian apprehension of the old Greek idea of physical life, which many take to be wholly new on account of the singular form in which it is presented.

NIGHT THE EIGHTH 177

I will even admit that the elements of a fine poet exist in him, in a state of chaos. It \s curious that while he proclaims his human sympathies to be without bounds, his intellectual sympathies should be so narrow. There never was a man at once so arrogant, and so tender towards his fellow-men.

The Ancient. You have very correctly de- scribed him. The same art which he despises would have increased his power and influence. He forgets that the poet must not only have somewhat to say, but must strenuously acquire the power of saying it most purely and completely. A truer sense of art would have prevented that fault which has been called immorality, but is only a coarse, offensive frankness.

The Gannet. Let us divide our labours. There is only one name apiece : how shall we ap- portion them ?

ZorLUS. Take Joaquin Miller, and give Walt Whitman to the Ancient, Choose of these two, Galahad I

Galahad {opening the paper). Bret Harte.

Zoi'LUS. Then Hay remains to me.

{They all write steadily for half an hour.)

The Gannet. Our last is our most difficult

178 DI VERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

task ; for we have to give the local flavour of the poetry, as well as its peculiar form and tone.

ZOXLUS. I should like to know how much of that local flavour is genuine. I am suspicious of Bret Harte's California dialect : some features of it are evidently English, and very suggestive of Dickens. Hay's is nearer the real thing. Miller's scenery and accessories also inspire .me with doubt.

Now, much of the value of this genre poetry (as I should call it) depends upon its fidelity to nature, - Sham slang and sham barbarism are worse than sham refinement and luxury.

The Ancient. Harte s use of " which " as an expletive is certainly an English peculiarity, which he may have heard.it in some individual miner, but which it is not a feature of California slang. So. when Miggles says, "Oh, if you please, I'm Miggles," it is an English girl who speaks. Aside from a few little details of this kind, Harte's sketches and poems are truly and admirably coloured. He deserves his success, for he has separated himself by a broad gulf from all the literary buffoonery of this day, which is sometimes grotesque and always inane. But he is picturesque, and the coarsest humour of his characters rests on a pure human pathos.

NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 179

Galahad. Somehow, the use of a vulgar dialect in poetry is always unpleasant to me ; it is like a grinning mask over a beautiful face. And yet, how charming is " 'Zekel's Courtship !"

The Ancient. Lowell has done all that is pos- sible with the New England dialect. He has now and then steeped it in an odour of poetry which it never before exhaled, and perhaps never may again. Compare it, for instance, with the Scotch of Burns, where every elision makes the word sweeter on the tongue, and where the words which are its special property are nearly always musical. The New England changes are generally on the side of roughness and clumsiness. With becomes an ugly V/^, instead of the soft Scotch wi^ ; have hardens into hev^ instead of flowing into hae ; and got coarsens into gut^ instead of the quaint sharpness of gat. It is the very opposite of the mellow broadness of the Scotch ; it sacrifices the vowels and aggravates the consonants; its raciest qualities hint of prevarication and noncommittal, and its sentiment is grotesque even when it is frank and touching. Yet Lowell's genius sometimes so completely transfigures this harsh material, that one's ear forgets it and hears only the finer music of his thought

12— ;»

i8o DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ZOYLUS. Shall we read ? I suggest that we take the authors, to-night, in the order of their appear- ance. Walt Whitman leads.

The Ancient. {Reads.)

. CAMERADOS.

Ever)^where, everywhere, following me ;

Taking me by the buttonhole, pulling off my boots, hustling me with the elbows ;

Sitting down with me to clams and the chowder-kettle ;

Plunging naked at my side into the sleek, irascible surges ;

Soothing me with a strain that 1 neither permit nor prohibit;

Flocking this way and that, reverent, eager, orotund, irre- pressible ;

Denser than sycamore leaves when the north winds are scouring Paumanok ;

What can I do to restrain them ? Nothing, verily nothing.

Everywhere, everywhere, crying aloud for me ;

Crying, I hear ; and I satisfy them out of my nature ;

And he that comes at the end of the feast shall find some- thing over.

Whatever they want I give : though it be something else, they shall have it.

Drunkard, leper, Tammanyite, small-pox, and cholera patient, shoddy, and cod-fish millionaire.

And the beautiful young men, and the beautiful young women, all the same,

Crowding, hundreds of thousands, cosmical multitudes,

Buss me and hang on my hips and lean up to my shoulders,

Everywhere listening to my yawp and glad whenever they hear it ;

Everywhere saying, say it, Walt, we believe it :

Everywhere, everywhere.

NIGHT THE EIGHTH. i8i

ZOKLUS. By Jove, Ancient I you could soon develop into a Kosmos.

The Ancient. It would not be difficult, so far as the form is concerned. The immortal Tupper, in his rivalry with Solomon, substituted semi-rhyth- mical prose lines for verse ; but Walt, being tho- roughly in earnest, often makes his lines wholly rhythmical. I confess I enjoy his decameters and hecatameters.

The Chorus. Bret Harte was the next appear- ance, after a very long interval. You will have to do your best, Qalahad.

Galahad. A superficial imitation is easy enough, but I shall certainly fail to reproduce his subtile wit and pathos. {Reads.)

TRUTHFUL JAMES'S SONG OF THE SHIRT.

Which his name it was Sam ;

He had sluiced for a while Up at Murderer's Dam,

Till he got a good pile, And the heft of each dollar,

Two thousand or more, He'd put in tlie Chollar,

For he seed it was ore That runs thick up and down, without ceilin' or floor.

And, says he, it's a game

That's got but one stake ; If I put up that same.

It '11 bust me or make.

1 82 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

At fifty the foot

IVe entered my pile, And the whole derned cahoot

ril let soak for a while, And jest loaf around here,— say, Jim, will you smile ?

Tom Fakes was the chum,

Down in Frisco, of Sam ; And one mornin* there come These here telegram :

• • You can sell for five hundred.

Come down by the train !" Sam By-Joed and By-Thundered, — 'Twas whistlin' quite plain. And down to Dutch Flat rushed with might and with main.

He had no time to sarch,

But he grabbed up a shirt That showed bilin' and starch,

And a coat with less dirt He jumped on the step

As the train shoved away, And likewise was swep',

All galliant and gay, Round the edge of the mounting and down to'rds the Bay.

Seven minutes, to pass

Through the hole by the Flat I Says he, Pm an ass

If I can*t shift in that 1 But the train behind time.

Only three was enough,— It came pat as a rhyme —

He was stripped to the buff When they jumped from the tunnel to daylight ! 'Twas rough.

NIGHT THE EIGHTH 183

What else ? Here*s to you !

Which he sold of his feet At five hundred, 'tis true,

And the same I repeat : But acquaintances, friends,

They likes to divert, And the tale never ends

Of Sam and his shirt, And to stop it from goin* he'd give all his dirt I

ZoYLUS. You were right to take a merely comi- cal incident. You couldn't possibly have echoed the strong feeling which underlies the surface slang of such a poem as " Jim," which I consider Harte's masterpiece in his special vein.

Galahad. He never could have written that if he had been only a humourist His later work shows that he is a genuine poet.

The Ancient. Yes, that special vein is like many in the Nevada mines, rich on the surface, narrowing as it goes down, pinched off by tlie primitive strata, opening again unexpectedly into a pocket, but never to be fully depended upon. Harte's instincts are too true not to see this : I believe he will do still better, and therefore pro- bably less popular work.

The Gannet. Now, Zollus, give us Hay, and let me close with a war-whoop !

i84 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

ZolLUS. I'm not quite sure of my Pike dialect, but I fancy the tone is rough enough to satisfy you, {Reads.)

BIG BILL.

There's them that eats till they're bustin',

And them that drinks till they're blind, And them that snuffin' and spooney,

But the best of all to my mind, (And I've been around in my time, boys,

And cavorted with any you like), Was Big Bill, that lived in the slashes,

We called him Big Bill o' Pike.

If he put his hand to his bowie

Or scratched the scruff of his neck, You could only tell by waitin'

To see if you bled a peck : And the way he fired 'twas lovely I

Nobody knowed which was dead. Till Big Bill grinned, and the stiff 'un

Tumbled over onto his head !

At school he^killed his master ;

Courtin', he killed seven more : And the hearse was always a-waitin

A little ways from his door. There wasn't much growth in the county,

As the census returns will show. But we had Big Bill we was proud of,

And that was enough to grow.

NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 185

And now Big Bill is an angel, —

Damn me, it makes me cry ! -Jist when he was rampin' the roughest,

The poor fellow had to die. A thievin' and sneakin' Yankee

Got the start on our blessed Bill, And there's no one to do our killin'

And nobody left to kill 1

ZoiLUS. Hay's realism, in those ballads, is of the grimmest kind. It is like the old Dance of Death, in a new form. I have been greatly amused by the actual fury which his " Little Breeches" and "Jim Bludso have aroused in some sectarian quarters. To read the attacks, one would suppose that Chris- tianity was threatened by the declaration that angels may interpose to save children, or that a man, ignorant or regardless of ordinary morality, may redeem his soul by the noblest sacrifice. Really, it seems to me, that ta diminish the range of individual damnation renders many good people unhappy.

The Ancient. Hay has made his name known in the most legitimate way, — by representing pheno- mena of common Western life which he has ob- served. He might have faintly echoed Shelley or Tennyson for a decade, and accomplished nothing. Those ballads are not, strictly speaking, poetry;

x86 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

but it is impossible that they should not give him a tendency to base his better poems on the realities of our American life.

The Chorus. Let us hear the Gannet's war- whoop !

The Gannet. There is nothing easier than to exaggerate exaggeration. {Reads)

THE FATE OF THE FRONTIERSMAN.

That whiskey-jug ! For dry or wet, My tale will need its help, you bet !

We made for the desert, she and I,

Though life was loathsome, and love a lie.

And she gazed on me with her glorious eye,

But all the same, — I let her die !

For why ? — there was barely water for one

In the small canteen, and of provender, none I

A splendid snake, with an emerald scale,

Slid before us along the trail.

With a famished parrot pecking its head ;

And, seizing a huge and dark brown rock

In her dark brown hands, as you crush a crock.

With the dark brown rock she crushed it dead.

But ere her teeth in its flesh could meet,

I laid her as dead as the snake at my feet,

And grabbed the snake for myself to eat

The plain stretched wide from side to side, As bare and blistered and cracked and dried As a' moccasin sole of buifalo hide,

NIGHT THE EIGHTH 183

And my throat grew hot, as I walked the trail,

My blood in a sizzle, my muscles dry,

A crimson glare in my glorious eye.

And I felt my sinews wither and fail,

Like one who has lavished, for fifty nights.

His pile in a hell of gambling delights,

And is kicked at dawn, from bottle and bed,

And sent to the gulches without a red.

There was no penguin to pick or pluck,

No armadillo's throat to be stuck,

Not even a bilberry's ball of blue

To slush my tongue yn^ its indigo dew.

And the dry brown palm-trees rattled and roared

Like the swish and swizzle of Walker's sword.

I was nigh rubbed out ; when, far away,

A shanty baked in the furnace of day.

And I petered on, for an hour or more.

Till I dropped, like a mangy hound, at the door.

No soul to be seen ; but a basin stood

On the bench, with a mess of dubious food,

Stringy and doughy and lumpy and thick.

As the clay ere flame has turned it to brick.

I gobbled it up with a furious fire,

A prairie squall of hungry desire.

And strength came back ; when, lo ! a scream

Closed my stomach and burst my dream.

She stood before me, as lithe and tall

As a musqueet-bush on the Pimos wall,

Fierce as the Zuni pan therms leap,

Fair as the slim Apache sheep.

A lariat draped her broad brown hips.

As she stood and glared with parted lips,

iM DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

While piercing stitches and maddening shoots Ran through my body, from brain to boots. I would have clasped her, but ere I could, She flung back her hair's tempestuous hood, And screamed, in a voice like a tiger-cat's : " You've gone and ett up my pizen for rats H* My blood grew limp and my hair grew hard As the steely tail of the desert pard : I sank at her feet, convulsed and pale, And kissed in anguish her brown toe-nail.

You may rip the cloud from the frescoed sky, Or tear the man from his place in the moon, Fur from the buzzard and plumes from the coon, But you can't tear me from the truth I cry. That life is loathsome and love a lie. She lifted me up to her bare brown face. She cracked my ribs in her brown embrace. And there in the shanty, side by side. Each on the other's bosom died.

She's now the mistress of Buffalo Bill, And pure as the heart of a lily still ; While I've killed all who have cared for me. And I'm just as lonely as I can be, So, pass the whiskey,— we'll have a spree I

Omne5. The real thing !

ZoiLUS. YouVe beaten us all, but no wonder ! Much of Joaquin Miller's verse is itself a travesty of poetry. Ancient, you talk about high ideals of literary art, and all that sort of thing : can you tell

NIGHT THE EIGHTH, 189

me what Rossetti and the rest of the English critics mean, in hailing this man as the great American poet ?

The Ancient. One thing, of course, they can- not see, — the thorough spuriousness of his charac- ters, with their costumes, scenery, and all other ac- cessories. Why, he takes Lara and the Giaour, puts them in a fantastic, impossible country called "Arizona" or "California," and describes them with a rhythm borrowed from Swinburne and a frenzy all his own, — and we are called upon to accept this as something original and grand ! The amazed admiration of a class in England, and the gushing gratitude of one in America, form, together, a spectacle over which the pure, serene gods must bend in convulsions of inextinguishable laughter.

Zoi'LUS. Give me your hand ! As Thackeray says, let us swear eternal friendship ! You have often provoked me by persistently mollifying my judg- ments of authors ; but, if you had done [so in this case, I could not have forgiven you. Joaquin Miller, and he alone, would prove the decadence of our literature ; he is an Indianized copy of Byron, made up of shrieks and war-paint, and the life he describes is too brutal, selfish, and insane ever to have existed anywhere. A few fine lines or coup-

I90 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLUB.

lets, or an occasional glittering bit of description, are not enough to make him a genius, or even an unusual talent.

The Gannet. But the material— not kis, the true Arizonian material — is good, and he has shown shrewdness in selecting it. He is clever, in some ways, or he never could have made so much capital in England. His temporary success here is only an echo of his success there.

ZofLUS. If he were a young fellow of twenty, I should say, wait ; but his is not the exaggeration of youth, it is the affectation of manhood.

Galahad. — If anybody ever seriously said, " Alas !" I should say it now. I have picked up many a grain of good counsel in the midst of our fun, and the /un itself has become an agreeable stimulus which I shall miss. We must not give up our habit wholly.

ZoYLUS. — ^There is no end of intellectual and poetic gymnastics, which we may try. I propose that we close with a grand satirical American '* Walpurgis-Night," modelled on Goethe's Inter- mezzo in Faust

The Gannet. That is a good idea, but how shall we carry it out i

ZoiLUS. Let each write a stanza or two, sati-

NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 191

rizing some literary school, author, magazine, or newspaper, throw it into the hat, and then take another, as long as we can keep up the game. When all are exhausted, give the hat to the Ancient and let him read the whole collection of squibs, in the order in which they turn up.

Omnes (eagerly). Accepted !

[Here, I am compelled to state, my liberty as a reporter ceases. The plan was carried out, and \ think it was not entirely unsuccessful. But our mirth was partly at the expense of others ; many of the stanzas were only lively and good-humoured, but many others thrust out a sharp sting in the last line. As I was not an accomplice, I was perfectly willing that they should all be given to the public. Zoilus did not seriously object ; but the other three were peremptory in their prohibition. Even the Gannet confessed that he was not courageous enough to run the risk of making half a dozen per- manent enemies by shafts of four lines apiece : he knew how largely the element oi personal profit and reputation enters into American literary life, and how touchy a sensitiveness it develops. There was no denying this, for they related many instances to prove it. I yielded, of course, although it was a disappointment to me. After having thus entered

192 DIVERSIONS OF THE ECHO CLU^.

authorship by a side-door, as it were, I find the field very pleasant ; and I withdraw now, since there is no alternative, with reluctance. — THE Nameless Reporter.

OctoUr^ z876.

CHATTO a-WlNDUS'S

List of Books.

New Fine-Art Gift-Book, uniform with the "Turner Gallery."

Handsomely half-tx)und, India Proofs, royal foHo, £\o ; Large Paper copies. Artists' India Proofs, elephant folio, J^TO,

Modern Art:

A Series of superb Line Engravings, from the Works of distinguished Painters of the English and Foreign Schools, selected from Galleries and Private Collections in Great Britain.

With Descriptive Text by JAMBS DAFFORNB.

Demy 8vo^ price One Shilling..

Academy Notes for 1876.

With 107 Illustrations of the Principal Pictures at Burlington House : a large number being Facsimiles of Sketches drawn by the Artists. Edited by Henry Blackburn.

" We at once take an opportunity of offerinp-ourtkankst at^well at those of all visitors to the Exhibition^ to Mr.. Blackburn Jor his very carefully executed review of the Academy pictures^ illitsirated by some zoo woodcut memoranda of the principal pictures^ almost half of them from the pencils of the painters themselves. A cheaper^ prettier^ or more convenient souvenir of the Exhibitum.it wotUd be difficult to conceive and unreasonable to expect,*'— Tiuvs.

♦/ Academy Notes for 1875 may also be had, price OneShillim

prue Une-A/tUltn&

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Crown 8vo, with Coloured Frontispiece and Illustrations, cloth gilt, 7J. 6</.

A History of Advertising.

From the Earliest Times. Illustrated by Anecdotes, Curious Specimens, and Biographical Notes of Successful Advertisers. By Henry Sampson.

" We have here a hook to be thankful/or. Among the many interesting illustra- tions is a photographed copy of the * Times* for January i*/, 1788, which may be easily read by means of a magnifying glass. We recommend the Present volume, which takes us through antiquity ^ the Middle Ages, and the present time, illustrai- ing all in turn by advertisements — serious^ comic ^ roguish^ or downright rascally , The chapter on * sranndles and hoaxes* is full ojf^ entertainment ; but <(f that the volumt itself is full from the first page to the last** — ATHSNiBUM.

Crown 4to, containing 24 Plates beautifully printed in Colours, with descriptive Text, cloth -extra, gilt, 6j-.

AEsops Fables

Translated into Human Nature. By C. H. Bennett.

" For fin and frolic the new version of A£sop*s Fables must bear away the Palm. There are plenty of grown-up children who like to be amused ; and if this new version of old stories does not amuse them they must be very dull uuUed, and their situation one much to be commiserated.** — Morning Post.

Crown 8vo, with Portrait and Facsimile, cloth extra, 71. dd.

Art emus Ward's IVorks:

The Works of Charles Farrer Browne, better known as Artemus Ward. With Portrait, facsimile of Handwriting, &c. •* The author combines the powers of Thackeray with those of Albert Smith.

The salt is rubbed in with a native hand— one which has the g^t of tickling.** —

Saturday Review.

Small 4to, green and gold, 6s, 6d. ; gilt edges^ 7^. 6d,

As Pretty as Seven,

and other Popular German Stories. Collected by LuDWro Bechstein. With Additional Tales by the Brothers Grimm, and 100 Illustrations by RiciyER.

• • These tales are Pure and healthful; they will shed over childhood a rosjt

Kghtf and strew the path with stars andfljowers, the remembrance of which nnll

last through life.*'-~PREFACB,

Blake's Works.

A Series of Reproductions in Facsimile of the Works of William Blake, including the ** Songs of Innocence and Experience,** •* The Book of Thel," " America," " The Vision of the Daughters of Albion," The Mawiage of Heaven and Hell," "Europe, a Prophecy," "Jerusalem," "Milton," '« Urizen,** "The Song of Los," &c. , is now in preparation.

CHATTO <Sr- W INDUS, PICCADILLY. 3

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, i8j.

Baker's Clouds in the East :

Travels and Adventures on the Perso-Turkoman Frontier. By Valentine Baker. With Maps and Illustrations, coloured and plain, from Original Sketches. Second Edition, revised and corrected.

" A man who not only thinks for himself but who has risked his life in order to gain information, .... A most graphic and lively narrative of travels and adventures which have nothing of the commonplace about them"— Leeds

MSRCURV.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7^. 6d.

A Handbook of London Bankers ;

With some Account of their Predecessors, the Early Goldsmiths ; together with Lists of Bank ers, from the Earliest London Direc- tory, printed in 1677, to that of the London Post-Office Directory of 1876. By F. G. Hilton Price.

• • An interesting and unpretending little work^ which may prove a useful con-

tribution towards the history of a difficult subject. . . . Mr, Prices anecdotes are entertaining, .... There is something fctscinating^ almost romantic, in the details given us of Child^s Bank, . . , There is a great deal of amusing reading and some valuable information in this ^tf^>&."— Saturday Rbview.

• • A work of considerable research and labour; an instructive contribution to

the history of the enormous wealth of the City of London,"— -AQAnnyiv,

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 9J.

Bardskys Our English Surnames:

Their Sources and Significs^tions. By Charles Wareing Bardsley, M.A. Second Edition, revised throughout, con- siderably enlarged, and partially rewritten.

" Mr. Bardsley has fait J^ully consulted the original medieval documents and works from which the origin and development of surnames can alone be satisfac' torily traced. He has furnished a valuable contribution to the literature ofsur- names t and we hope to hear more of him in this field. " — Ti mks.

Small 8vo, cloth extra, 7^. 6d.

Blewitt 's The Rose and the Lily ;.

How they became the Emblems of England and France. A Fairy Tale. By Mrs. Octavian Blewitt. With a Frontispiece by George Cruikshank.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra gilt, with Illustrations, 7^. dd,

Boccaccio's Decameron ;

or. Ten Days' Entertainment. Translated into English, with an Introduction by Thomas Wright, Esq., M.A., F.S.A. With Portrait, and Stothard's beautiful Copperplates.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Imperial 4to, cloth extra, gilt and gilt edges, price 2is, per volume.

Beautiful Pictures by British Artists :

A Gathering of Favourites from our Picture Galleries. In Two Series.

The First Series including Examples by Wilkie, Con- stable, Turner, Mulready, Landseer, Maclise, E. M. Ward, Frith, Sir John Gilbert, Leslie, Ansdell, Marcus Stone, Sir Noel Paton, Faed, Eyre Crowe, Gavin O'Neil, and Madox Brown.

The Second Series containing Pictures by Armytage, Faed, GooDALL, Hemsley, Horsley, Marks, Njcholls, Sir Noel Paton, Pickersgill, G. Smith, Marcus Stone, Solomon, Straight, E. M. Ward, and Warren.

All engraved on Steel in the highest style of Art. Edited, with Notices of the Artists, by Sydney Armytage, M.A. Each Volume is Complete in itself, " This book is well g^ot «/, and good engravint^s byJeenSt Lumb Stocks, and etksrs, bring back to us pictures of Royal Academy Exhibitions of past years^" —Times.

Price One Shilling Monthly, with Four Illustrations.

Betgravia.

contents of the OCTOBER NUMBER.

Reality. By Charles Reade. Illustrated.

Beau Feilding at the Old Bailey. By G. A. Sala.

Juliet. By Mrs. Lovett Cameron. Illustrated.

Black Rupert's Leap. Illustrated.

The New Republic.

From Dreams to Waking. By E. Lynn Linton.

Cupid's Alley. By Austin Dobson.

Tasbrook's Testimonial. By James Payn.

Joshua Haggard's Daughter. By M. E. BrADDON. Illustrated. The THIRTIETH Volume of BELGRAVIA {which includes the Holiday Number), elegantly bound in crimson cloth, bevelled boards^ full gilt side and back, gilt edges, price *js, 6d,, is now ready. — Cases for binding the^ volume {designed by Luke Limner) can also be had, price 2s. 6d, each.

On November lo will be published, price One Shilling, with numerous Illustrations,

The Belgravia Annual

for Christmas, 1876. Containing Stories by George Augustus Sala, Dutton Cook, M. E. Braddon, Mary Cecil Hay, Katharine S. Macquoid, James Payn, S. J. MacKenna, J. S. Sullivan, and others.

CHATTO <Sh WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 5

Crown 8vo, with Photographic Portrait, cloth extra, 9J.

Blanchard's (Laman) Poems.

Now first Collected. Edited, with a Life of the Author" (includ- ing numerous hitherto unpublished Letters from Lord Lytton, Lamb, Dickens, Robert Browning, and others), by Blan-

CHARD JeRROLD.

• • His humorous verse is much of it admirable — sparkling with genuine
• esprit t and as polished and pointed as Praed's.** — Scotsman.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 6s,

Boudoir Ballads:

Vers de Soci^t^. By J. Ashby-Sterry.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7^. 6d,

Brand's Observations on Popular ^nti-

quiiifs, chiefly Illustrating the Origin of our Vulgar Customs, Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With the Additions of Sir Henry Ellis. An entirely New and Revised Edition, with fine full-page Illustrations.

"Anyone who will read^ on each respective day, the chapter which helcngs to it, will, when he has got through the volume, have a better notion of what English history is than he will get from almost any other work professedly named a ^history* "—Quarterly Review.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, *js, 6d,

Bret Harte 's Select JVorks

in Prose and Poetry. With Introductory Essay by J. M. Bel- lew, Portrait of the Author, and 50 Illustrations.

• • Not many tnonths before my friend's death, he had sent me two sketcJus by

a young American writer (Bret Harte), far away in California (* The Out" casts of Poker Flat* and another), in which he had found such subtle strokes of character as he had not anywhere else in late years discovered ; the manner resembling himself, but the matter fresh to a degree that had surprised him ; the painting in all respects masterly, and the wild rude thing painted a quite wonderful reality. I have rarely known him more honestly moved."— Fohstkr*s Life of Dickens.

Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with full-page Portraits, 4^. 6d.

Brewster's (Sir David) Martyrs of

Science, Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with'Astronomical Plates, 4^. 6^.

Brewster's (Sir David) More IVorlds

than Om^ the Creed of the Philosopher and the Hope of the Christian.

BOOKS PUBLISHED h Y

Crown 8vo, cloth, full gilt (from a special and novel dedgn), icxr. 6^.

The Bric-a-Brac Hunter ;

or, Chapters on Chinamania. By Major H. Byng Hai-l. With Photographic Frontispiece.

• • This is a delightful book. His hints ris^cting marks, texture , finish, and

character of various wares will be useful to amateurs. By all who are in- terested in Chinamania it will be most warmly a^preciated—a very amusing and chatty volume.**— Stahvakd.

Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s,

Brillat'Savarin's Gastronomy as a Fine

Art ; or, The Science of Good Living. A Translation of the " Physiologic du Go^t " of Brillat-Savarin, with an Intro- duction and Explanatory Notes by R. E. Anderson, M.A.

• • / couldwrite a better book of cookerythan has ever yet been written ; it should

be a book on philosophical principles** — i>r. Johnson.

The Stothard Bun yan.— Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, yj. 6d,

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.

Edited by Rev. T. Scott. With 17 beautiful Steel Plates by Stothard, engraved by Goodall ; and numerous Woodcuts.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, yj. 6(L

Byron's Letters and yournals.

With Notices of his Life. -By Thomas Moore. A Reprint of

the Original Edition, newly revised. Complete in one thick Volume,

with Twelve full-page Plates.

" We have read this book with the greatest pleasure. Considered merely as a

composition, it deserves to be classed among the best specimens of English prose

which oura^e has produced. . . . The style is agreeable^ clear, and manly,

and, when tt rises into eloquence, it rises without effort or ostentation. Nor is the

matter it^ferior to the manner. It would be difficult to name a book which

exhibits more kindness, fairness, and modesty.'*— Mac avlky.

Demy 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges, 31^. 6d,

Canova' s Works in Sculpture and Model-

li*ig* 150 Plates, exquisitely engraved in Outline by Moses, and printed on an India tint. With Descriptions by the Countess Albrizzi, a Biographical Memoir by CICOGNARA, and Por- trait by WORTHINGTON. " The fertility of this master's resources is amazing, and the manual labour expended on his works would have worn out many an ordinary workman. The outline engravings are finely executed. The descriptive notes are discriminating, and in the main exact.'* — Spectator.

" A very handsome volume. . . . The grac^ul designs of the original are rendered by the engraver with exquisite fidelity. As a gift-book, the volume deserves to be placed beside the * Outlines * of a very kindred genius— Flaxman.** — Graphic.

CIIATTO <Sh IVINDUS, PICCADILLY. ^

Two Vols, imperial 8yo, cloth extra, gilt, the Plates beautifully printed in Colours, £z 3^.

Catlifis Illustrations of the Manners,

Customs^ and Condition of the North American Indians : the re- sult of Eight Years of Travel and Adventure among the Wildest and most Remarkable Tribes now existing. Containing 360 Coloured Engravings from the Author's original Paintings.

Imperial folio, half-morocco, gilt, ;f 7 loj.

Cat tin's North American Indian Port- folio. Containing Hunting Scenes, Amusements, Scenery, and Costume of the Indians of the Rocky Mountains and Prairies of America, from Drawings and Notes made by the Author during Eight Years' Travel. A series of 31 magnificent Plates, beautifully coloured in facsimile of the Original Drawings exhibited at the Egyptian Hall.

Crawn 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7j. 6</.

Colman's Humorous Works:

• • Broad Grins," "My Nightgown and Slippers," and other

Humorous Works, Prose and Poetical, of George Colman. With Life and Anecdotes by G. B. Buckstone, and Frontis- piece by Hogarth.

• ' What antic have we here^ in motley livery of red and yellow ^ with ca^ on

head, and dagger of lath in hand f It is the king's jester, a professed droll, strangely gifted in all grimace , who pulls f cues, and sells grins by the yard. For the impudent joke he has scarcely an ^ywa/.**— Westminster Review.

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, with Coloured Illustrations and Maps, 21s.

Cope's History of the Rifle Brigade

(The Prince Consort's Own), formerly the 9Sth. By Sir William H. Cope, formerly Lieutenant Rifle Brigade.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Portraits, yj. 6</.

Creasy' s Memoirs of Eminent Etonians;

with Notices of the Early History of Eton College. By Sir

Edward Creasy, Author of ^* The Fifteen Decisive Battles of

the World." A New Edition, brought down to the Present

Time, with 13 Illustrations.

"yl new edition of * Creasy's Etonians'* will he welcome. The hook was a

favourite a quarter of a century ago, and it has maintained its reputation. The

value of this new edition is enhanced by the fact that Sir Edward Creasy has

added to it several memoirs of Etonians who have died since the first edition

appeared. The work is eminently interesting.*'^ScOTSMAif.

Crown 8vo, doth gilt, Two very thick Volumes, Is, 6d, each.

Cruikshank's Comic Almanack.

Complete in Two Series : The First from 1835 to 1843 ; the Second from 1844 to 1853. A Gathering of the Best Humour of Thackeray, Hood, Mayhew, Albert Smith, A*Beck- ETT, Robert Brough, &c. With 2000 Woodcuts and Steel Engravings by Cruikshank, Hine, Landells, &c.

To be Completed in Twenty-four Parts, quarto, at Five Shillings each, profusely illustrated by Coloured and Plain Plates and Wood Engravings,

The Cyclopcedia of Costume ;

or, A Dictionary of Dress— Regal, Ecclesiastical, Civil and Mili- tary — from the Earliest Period in England to the reign of Geoige the Thiid. Including Notices of Contemporaneous Fashions on the Continent, and preceded by a General History of the Costumes of the Principal Countries of Europe. By J. R. PlanchA, Somerset Herald.. — ^A Prospectus will be sent upon application. Part XV. just ready.

" There is no suhJKt connected with dress with which * Somerset Heraid* is not as familiar as ordinary men are with the ordinary themes 0/ everyday life. The gathered knowledge of many years is placed before the world ifi this his latest work, andtwhenjimshed, there will exist no work on the subject half so valuable. The numerous illustrattons are all effective— for their accuracy the author is responsible ; they are well dravm and well engraved^ and, while in- dispensable to a proper comprehension of the text, are satiifactory as works <if nrt."-~Aa.T Jouenal.

" One of the most perfect works ever published upon the sulffect, . . . Beauti' ftUly printed and superbly illustrated. " — Standard.

%• Part XIV. contains the Completion of the DICTIONARY, which, as Vol. /. of the Book, forms a Complete Work in itsdf This volume may now be had, handsomely bound in half red morocco^ giU top, price £Z 13J. 6d, Cases for Hnding the volume may also be had, price 5J. each.

The remaining Parts will be occupied by the GENERAL HISTORY OP THE COSTUMES OF EUROPE, arranged Chronologically,

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt and emblazoned, with lUustiations, coloured and plain, 7/. 6(/.

Cussans' Handbook of Heraldry.

With Instructions for Tracing Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient MSS.; Rules for the Appointment of Liveries, Chapters on Continental and American Heraldry, &c &c. By John % CusSANS. Illustrated with 360 Plates and Woodcuts.

CHATTO ^ WINDUS, PICCADILLY. ^

Parts I. to X. now ready, 2ij. eacb.

Cussans' History of Hertfordshire.

A County History, got up in a very superior manner, and ranging

with the finest works of its class. By John E. Cussans. IUus-

trated with full-page Plates on Copper and Stone, and a profusion

of small Woodcuts,

" Mr. Cussans haSt from sources not accessibU to Cluiierbuck, made most

valuable additions to ihie manorial history o_fthe county ^/rom the earliest Period

downwards^ cleared up many doubtful points, and given original details con'

ceming various subjects untouched or imperfectly treated by that writer. The

same may be said as to the lists of incumbents and the monumental itucriptions.

Cluiterbuck*s errors and omissions have been carefully corrected and supplied,

and the occurrences of the last fifty years added, so that we have these important

features of the work complete^ Particular attention has also been paid to the

heraldry of the county, . . . The Pedigrees seem to have been constructed

with great care, and are a valuable addition to the genealogical history of the

county. Mr. Cussans appears to have done his work conscientiously t and to

have sj^red neither time, labour, nor expense to render his volumes worthy of

rankmgin the highest class of County Histories* The typography is entitled to

unqualified praise, the Paper ^ type, and illustrations being unexceptionable.** — *

Academy.

Demy 8vo, half-bound morocco, 21 s.

Dibdin's Bibliomania;

or, Book-Madness : A Bibliographical Romance. With numerous Illustrations. A New Edition, with a Supplement, including a Key to the Assumed Characters in the Drama.

" / have not yet recovered from the delightful delirium into which your * Biblio* mania ' has completely thrown me. Your book, to my taste, is one of the most ex- traordinary gratifications I have enjoyed for many years." ^Isaac Disraeli.

Two Vols., 8vo, cloth extra, 3ar.

Dixofis JVhite Conquest:

America in 1875. By W. Hepworth Dixon.

" The best written, most instructive, and most entertaining book thai Mr. Dixon has published since * New America.* "— AxHENiKUM.

Second Edition, demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with Illustrations, i8j.

Dunraven's The Great Divide:

A Narrative of Travels in the Upper Yellowstone in the summer of 1874. By the Earl of Dunraven. With Maps and numerous striking full-page Illustrations by Valentine W. Bromley.

" There has not for a long time appeared a better book of travel than Lord Dunraven* s * The Great Divide* . . . The book is full ^ clever observation, emd both narrative and illustrations are thoroughly good** ^ArvxuMVU.

" A Jolty, rollicking narrative of adventure and sport, mixed up with a great eal of useful information concerning one of the most interesting regions in the dmericmn continent. **Satwl

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 245.

Dodge's (Colonel) The Hunting Grounds

of the Great West : a Description of the Plains, Game, and Indians of the Great North American Desert. By Richard Irving Dodge, Lieutenant-Colonel of the United States Army. With an Introduction by William Blackmore; Map, and numerous Illustrations drawn by Ernest Griset.

Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6^. per Volume ; a few Large Paper copies (only 50 printed), at 12s, per VoL

Early English Poets.

Edited, with Introductions and Annotations, by the Rev. A. B. Grosart.

^^ Mr, Grosart has spent the most laborious and the most enthusiastic care on the perfect restoration and preservation of the text; a$tdit is very unlikely that any other edition of the poet can ever be called for. . . From Mr, Grosart we always expect and always receive the final results of most patient and competent scholarship "—"BxAWiUKYt..

1. Fletcher^ S (Giles, B,D^ I Compute collected Poems. Jfxih ComfetePoems/Chnsi'sVictorie ^^'^Ji^SfXSe^nf^ in rfeaven. Christ's Victorieon f^l l^Trlul^tfir.1/^ Earth, Christ's Triumph over Lma. ^d Glossanal Index. &c. Death, and Minor Poems. With Memorial-Introduction and Notes.

2. DavUs' {Sir John)

Complete Poetical Works, in- cluding Psalms I. to L. in Verse, and other hitherto Unpublished MSS., for the first time Col- lected and Edited. With Me- morial-Introduction and Notes. Two Vols.

3. Herrick's {Robert) Hes-

perides, Noble Numbers, and

Three Vols.

4. Sidney's {Sir Philip)

Comflete Poetical IVorks, in- cluding all those in "Arcadia." With Memorial-Introduction, Essay on the Poetry of Sidney, and Notes. [In the press,

5. Donne's {Dr. John)

Complete Poetical Works, in- eluding the Satires and various from MSS. With Memorial-In- troduction and Notes.

[/» the press.

• «• Other volumes are in active Preparation.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, 6s,

Emamiel On Diamonds and Precious

stones : their History, Value, and Properties ; with Simple Tests for ascertaining their Reality. By Harry Emanuel, F.R.G.S. With numerous Illustrations, Tinted and Plain.

CHATTO ^ WINDUSy PICCADILLY, ii

Crown 8vo, doth extra, with Illustrations, yj. 6d.

The Englishman! s House :

A Practical Guide to all interested in Selecting or Building a House, with full Estimates of Cost, Quantities, &c. By C. J. Richardson. Third Edition. With nearly 600 Illustrations.

Crown 8vo, doth extra, with Illustrations, 6j.

Fairholt's Tobacco:

Its History and Associations ; including an Account of the Plant and its Manufacture ; with its Modes of Use in all Ages and Countries. By F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A. A New Edition, with Coloured Frontispiece and upwards of 100 Illustrations by the Author. ' A vety^ltasani and insiruciivt hutory of tobacco and its associations^ which r cordially recommend alike to the votaries and to the enemies of the ntuch- maligned but certainly not neglected weed, . . . Full of interest and in-

we cordially recommend alike to the votaries and to the enemies of the ntuch-

maligned but certainly not ' ' ' "

formation.**— Daily wbws.

" A more complete and dainty book on a stdqeci which some still think un savoury it would not be easy to call to mind.**— Gkavhic,

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 4s, 6d.

Faraday's Chemical History of a Candle,

Lectures delivered to a Juvenile Audience. A New Edition. Edited by W. Crookes, F.C.S. With numerous Illustrations.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 4r. 6df.

Faraday's Various Forces of Nature.

A New Edition. Edited by W. Crookes, F.C.S. With numerous Illustrations.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7^. (id.

Finger-Ring Lore:

Historical, L^[endary, and Anecdotal. — Earliest Notices; Supersti- tions ; Ring Investiture, Secular and Ecdesiastical 5 Betrothal and Wedding Rings ; Ring-tokens; Memorial and Mortuary Rings; Posy- Rings'; Customs and Incidents in Connection with Rings ; Remark- able lUi^, &C. By William Jones, F.S.A. With Hundreds of Illustrations of Curious Rings of all Ages and Countries.

" The booh is both amusing and instructive.*'— Dkilv Tklbgraph.

" Enters fully into the whole subject^ and gives an amount of information and general reading in reference thereto which is of very high interest. The book ts not only a sort of history of ^nger^ngs, but is a collection of anecdotes in connection with them. , . . The volume is admirably illustrated^ and altogether affords an amount of amusement and information which is not other- wise easily accessible.**— Scotshiav.

" One of those gossiping books which are as full of amusement as of instruc-

tion.'*~^T«ESMUM.

12 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, px.

Figuier's Primitive Man :

A Popular Manual of the prevailing Theories of the Descent of Man, as promulgated by Darwin, Lyell, Sir John Lubbock, Huxley, £. B. Tylor, and other eminent Ethnologists. Trans, lated from the last French edition, and revised by E. B. T. With 263 Illustrations.

• • An interesting and essentially popular rdsum^ of all that has been written

<m the subject. M. Figuier has collected together the evidences which modem researches have accumulated^ and has done this with a considerable amount of care.'*— Athkujevm.

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, iSs.

Gay 's From Pall Mall to the Punjaub ;

or, With the Prince in India. By J. Drew Gay. With fine full- page Illustrations. " A lasting memorial of an interesting Journey ;** — Daily Tblbgraph. " Written in a lively and unpretentious style, and sparhlinz here and there with genuine humour ^ the work is a decidedly attractive <»«*."— -Leeds Mercury. ^* A very readable and enjoyable narrative of a journey whose importance and interest are already part of history.**— Hour News.

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, i8j.

Gell and Candy's Pompeiana ;

or. The Topography, Edifices, and Ornaments of Pompeii With upwards of 100 Line Engravings by Gqodall, Cooke, Heath, Pye, &c.

The Ruskin Grimm. — Square crown 8vo, cloth extra, dr. 6d,i gilt edges, 7/. 6d,

German Popular Stories.

Collected by the Brothers Grimm, and Translated by Edgar Taylor. Edited, with an Introduction, by John Ruskin. With 22 Illustrations after the inimitable designs of George Cruikshank. Both Series Complete.

" The illustrations of this volume .... are 0/ quite sterKng^ and admirable art, of a class precisely parallel in elevation to the character of the tales which they illustrate; and the original etchings, as I have before said tn the Appendix to my * Elements of Drawing^' were unrivalled in masterfulness of touch since Rem- brandt {in some qualities ^delineation, unrivalled even by him). > , . To maJke somewhat enlarged copies of them.loohing at them through a magnifying grlass, and never putting two lines where Cruiksnank has put only one, would be an exer- cise in decision and severe drawing which would leave afterwards little to be learnt in schools." — Extract from Introduction by John Ruskin.

CHATTO &• WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 13

One VoL crown 8yo, cloth extra, 9J.

Gilbert 's (W. SJ Original Plays :

"A Wicked World," "Charity," "The Palace of Truth," " Pygmalion," " Trial by Jury," &c.

• • Hit workmanship is in its way perfect ; it is very sound, very even, very

well sustained, and excellently balanced tArffugrAout.'*^OBSKKVKR.

Demy 4to, doth extra, with Illustrations, 3IJ. 6d.

Gillray the Caricaturist:

The Story of his Life and Times, with Anecdotal Descriptions of

his Engravings. Edited by Thomas Wright, Esq., M.A.,

F.S.A. With 83 full-page Plates, and numerous Wood

Eng^vings.

" High as the expectatioMt excited ly this description [m the Introduction'}

may be, they will not be disappointed. The most inquisitive or exacting reader

will find ready gathered to his hand, without the trouble of reference, almost everv

scrap of narrative, anecdote, gossip, scandal, or epigram, that he can possibly

require for the elucidation of the caricatures/* — Quarterly Rkvibw.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, with a Map, 3x. 6d,

Gold ;

Or, Legal Regulations for the Standard of Gold and Silver Ware in the different Countries of the World. Translated from the German of Studnitz by Mrs. Brewer, and Edited, with additions, by Edwin W. Streeter.

Crown Svo, cloth gilt and gilt edges, yj. 6^.

The Golden Treasury of Thought :

An ENCYCLOPiEDiA OF QUOTATIONS from Writers of all Times and Countries. Selected and Edited by Theodore Taylor.

Small Svo, cloth gilt, 6j.

Gosse's King Erik :

A Tragedy. By Edmund W. Gosse. With a Vignette by W. B. Scott.

" The author's booh, * On Viol and Flute,* displayed such a remarkable ear for music, such a singular j^tic interpretation of fiowers and trees^ and such'lihe children of Flora, atuC, above all, such a distinct and individual poetic savour, that it would have been a pity indeed had these good gifts been wasted in any wrong direction. In this case there is happily no cause for such pity. We have seldom seen so marked an advance in a second book beyond a first. . . . The faults of ' Kitig Erik * are but slight matters ; its merits are solid, and of a very high order"— Academy.

Small Svo, cloth gilt, 5^.

Gosse' s On Viol and Flute.

Second Edition. With a Vignette by W. B. Scott.

H

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Square i6mo, (Tauchnitz size), cloth extra, 2s, per volume.

The Golden Library:

Bayard Taylor's Diver- sions of the Echo Club.

The Book of Clerical A nee-

dotes,

Byrofis Don Juan, Carlyle (Thomas) on the

Choice of Books, With a Me- moir, zj. td.

Emersofis Letters and

Social Aims,

Godwin* s( William) Lives

of the Necromancers,

Holmes's Autocrat of the

Breakfast Table. With an In- troduction by G. A. Sala.

Holmes's Professor at the

Breakfast Table,

Hood's Whims and Oddi- ties, Complete. With all the original Illustrations.

Irving' s ( Washington)

Tales of a Traveller,

Irving' s ( Washington)

Tales of the Alhambra.

Jesses (Edward) Scenes

and Occupations of Country Life.

Lamb's Essays of Elia,

Both Series Complete in One Volume.

Leigh Hunt's Essays : A

Tale for a Chimney Corner, and other Pieces. With Portrait, and Introduction by Edmund Ollier.

Mallorys (Sir Thomas)

Mortd* Arthur X The Stories of King Arthur and of the Knights of the Round Table. Edited by

B. MONTGOMERIE RANKING.

Pascal's Provincial Let- ters. A New Translation, withN Historical Introduction and Notes, by T. M'Crie, D.D., LL.D.

Pop^s Complete Poetical

Works,

Rochefoucauld's Maxims

and Moral Reflections, With Notes, and an Introductory Essay by Sainte-Beuve.

St, Pierre's Paul and

Virginia t and the Indian Cot" tage. Edited, with Life, by the Rev. E. Clarke.

Shelley's Early Poems

and Queen Mab, with Essay by Leigh Hunt.

Shelley s Later Poems:

Laon and Cythna, &c.

Shelley's Posthumous

Poems, the Shelley Papers, &c.

Shelley's Prose Works,

including A Refutation of Deism, Zastrozzi, St. Irvyne, &c.

Whites Natural History

ofSelbome, Edited, with addi- tions, by Thomas Brown, F.L.S.

'\A series of excellently Mnted and carefully annotated volumes, handy in size and altogether attractive, —BooKsith i^br.

CHATTO &* WINDUS^ PICCADILLY. 15

Crown 8vo, doth extra, gUt, with Illustrations, 7j. 6//.

Greenwood's Low- Life Deeps.

An Account of the Strange Fish to be found there ; including "The Man and Dog Fight," with much additional and con- firmatory evidence; "With a Tally-Man," **A Fallen Star," "The Betting Barber," "A Coal Marriage," &c. By James Greenwood. With Illustrations in tint by Alfred Concanen.

• • The book is interestitur reading^. It shows that there are many things in

London life not dreamt of »y mostfeopie. It is well got upy and contains a number of striking illustrations, —ScoTSUW,

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, ^s, 6d.

Greenwood's Wilds of London:

Descriptive Sketches, from Personal Observations and Experience, of Remarkable Scenes, People, and Places in London. By James Greenwood. With 12 Tinted Illustrations by Alfred Concanen.

" Mr. James Greenwood presents himself once more in the character of * one whose delight it is to do his humble endeavour towards exposing^ and extirpating social causes and those hole-and-corner evils which e^ict society,* " — Saturday Rkvibw.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, 4s, 6d.

Guyot 's Earth and Man ;

Or, Physical Geography in its Relation to the History of Mankind. With Additions by Professors Agassiz, Pierce, and Gray. 12 Maps and Engravings on Steel, some Coloured, and a copious Index.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6^.

Hake's New Symbols :

Poems. By Thomas Gordon Hake.

• ' The entire hook breathes a fure and ennt^ling influence^ shows welcome

origittalify of idea and illustrattont and yields the honest proof of imaginative faculty and mature power of expression," — ^Athbnaum.

Medium Svo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, yj. 6d,

Hall's (Mrs. S. CJ Sketches of Irish

Character. With numerous Illustrations on Steel and Wood by Daniel Maclise, Sir John Gilbert, W. Harvey, and G. Cruikshank.

" The Irish sketches of this lady resemble Miss Mitford's beautiful English Sketches in * Our Village ^' but they are far more vigorous and picturesque and inifA/."- Blackwood's Magazine.

16 BOOKS FUBLISHED BY

Demy 8vo, clpth extra,, with Portrait and Illustrations, 121.

Hawkers Memorials: ?

Memorials of the late Rev. Robert Stephen Hawker, some- time Vicar of Morwenstow, in the Diocese of Exeter. Collected, arranged, and edited by the Rev. • Frederick George Lee, D.C.L., Vicar of AH Saints*, Lambeth. With Photographic Portrait, Pedigree, and Illustrations.

" /?r. Lee^s * Memorials ' is a far better record qfMr, Huwker^ and gives a more reverent and more true idea 0/ the man. , , . Dr. Lee rightly confines himself to his proper subject. "—Athenaeum.

Two Vol?. 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 36J.

Hay don's Correspondence & Table-Talk.

With a Memoir by his Son, Frederic Wordsworth Haydon. Comprising a hu^e number of hitherto Unpublished Letters from Keats, Wilkie, Southey, Wordsworth, Kirkup, Leigh Hunt, Landseer, Horace Smith, SirG. Beaumont, Goethe, Mrs. Siddons, Sir Walter Scott, Talfourd, Jeffrey, Miss Mitford, Macready, Mrs. Browning, Lockhart, Hallam, and others. With 23 Illustrations, including Facsimiles of many nteresting Sketches, Portraits of Haydon by Keats and Wilkie, and Haydon's Portraits of Wilkie, Keats, and Maria Foote.

" There can, we think, be no question of its interest in a purely biographical sense, or of its literary merit. The letters and table-talk form a most valuable contribution to the social and artistic history of the time." — Pall Mall Gazette.

" The volumes are among the most interesting produced or likely to be produced by the present f^ojitw."— Examiner.

• • Here we have a full-length portrait of a most remarkable man. ... . His

son has done the work well — is clear and discriminating on the whole^ and writes with ease and vigour. Over and above the interest that must be felt in Haydon himself, the letters afford us the opportunity of studying closely many of the greatest men and women of the time. . . . We do not hesitate to say that these letters and table-talk form a most valuable contribution to the history of art and literature in the past generation. The editor has selected and arranged them with . uncommon judpnent, adding many notes that contain ana and anecdotes. Every page has thus its point of interest. The book will no doubt have a wide audience, as it well deserves."— NoKconvoKMisT.

Three Vols, royal 4to, cloth boards, £6 6sr, half-morocco, full gilt back and edges, £7 7^*

Historical Portraits ;

Upwards of 430 Engravings of Raie Prints. Comprising the Collections of Rodd, Richardson, .Caulfield, &c. With Descriptive Text to every Plate, giving a brief outline of the most important Historical and Biographical Facts and Dates connected with each Portrait, and references to original Authorities.

CHATTO &• WIND US, PICCADILLY. 17

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, *js, (yd.

Hood's (Thomas) Choice Works ^

In Prose and Verse. Including the Cream of the Comic

Annuals. With Life of the Author, Portrait, and over Two

Hundred original Illustrations.

•* Not only does the volume include the better-known poems by the author^ but

also what is happily described as * the Cream of the Comic Annuals* Stich delicious

things as * Don't you smell Fire f ' * The Parish \R evolution,' and * Huggins and

Duggins" will never want readers.*' — Graphic.

• • A /air representative selection of Hood's works, many of which have been

hitherto inaccessible except at high prices. Most of the best known of his comic effusions — those punning ballads in which he has never been approached— are to be found in the liberal collection Messrs. Chatto &» Windus have given to the public." — Birmingham Daily Mail.

Square crown 8vo, in a handsome and specially-designed binding, gilt edges, 6s,

Hood's (Tom) From Nowhere to the

North Pole: A Noah*s Arkaeological Narrative. With 25 Illus- trations by W. Brunton and E. C. Barnes.

• • Poor Tom Hood I It is very sad to iurti over the droll pages of * From No-

vthere to the North Pole,' and to think that he will never make the young people, for whom, like his famous father, he ever had such a kind, sympathetic heart, laugh or cry any more. This is a birthday story, and no part of it is better than the first chapter, concerning birthdays in general, and Franks birthday in par- ticular. The amusing letterpress is prtfusely interspersed with the jingling rhymes which children love and learn so easily. Messrs. Bruntofi atui Barnes do full justice to the writer's meaning, and a pleasanter result of the harmonious co- operation of author and artist could not be desired."— TiviBS.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, ^s, 6d.

Hook's (Theodore) Choice Humorous

Works, including his Ludicrous Adventures, Bons-mots, Puns, and Hoaxes. With a new Life of the Author, Portraits, Fac- similes, and Illustrations. •* His name will be preserved* His political songs andjeux d'esprit, when the hour comes for collecting them, will form a volume of sterling and lasting attrac- tion ; and after many clever romances of this age shall have sufficiently occupied public attention, and sunk ^ like' Jtundreds of former generations, into utter oblivion, there are tales in his collection which will be read with even a greater interest than they commanded in their novelty." — J. G. Lockhart.

Two Vols, royal 8vo, with Coloured Frontispieces, cloth extra, j[,z 5j.

Hope's Costume of the Ancients.

Illustrated in upwards of 320 Outline Engravings, containing Re- presentations of Egyptian, Greek, and Roman Habits and

b:

resses.

" The substance of many expensive works, containing all that may be necessaty to give to artists, and even to dratnatic performers and to others engaged in classical representations, an idea of ancient costumes sufficiently ample to Prevent their offending in their performances by gross and obvious blunders,'

i8 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7j.

Home's Orion:

An Epic Poem, in Three Books. By Richard Hengist Horne. With Photographic Portrait. Tenth Edition.

" OrioH tviii be admitted^ by every man of genius^ io be one of the noblest , if not ike very noblest poetical work of tke age. Its defects are trivial and conventional^ its beauties intrinsic and supreme "—Edgar Allan Fob.

Atlas folio, half morocco gilt, £$ ^s.

The Italian Masters :

Autotjnpe Facsimiles of Original Drawings in the British Museum. With Critical and Descriptive Notes, Biographical and Artistic^ by J. CoMYNS Carr.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, los, 6d,

yennings' The Rosicrucians :

Their Rites and Mysteries. With Chapters on the Ancient Fire and Serpent Worshippers, and Explanations of Mystic Symbols in Monuments and Talismans of Primaeval Philosophers. By Hargrave J ENNI N GS. With upwards of 300 Illustrations.

Small Svo, cloth extra, df.

yeux d' Esprit,

Written and Spoken, of the Later Wits and Humourists. Collected and Edited by Henry S. Leigh.

Two Vols. Svo, with 52 Illustrations and Maps, cloth extra, gilt, 14^.

Josephus's Complete Works.

Translated by Whiston. Containing both " The Antiquities of the Jews *' and " The Wars of the Jews."

• • Tkis admirable trcmslationfar exceeds all preceding ones^ and kas never been

equalled by any su bseguent attempt of the JUtid. "—Lowndes.

Small Svo, cloth, full gilt, gilt edges, with Illustrations, dr.

Kavanaghs' Pearl Fountain,

And other Fairy Stories. By Bridget and Julia Kavanagh. With Thirty Illustrations by J. Moyr Smith.

Two Vols, crown Svo, cloth extra, 2ij.

Kings ley's Fireside Studies :

Essays. By Henry Kingsley.

" Tkese * Fireside Studies ' show Mr, Kingsley at his very best. Their per- ading chartns are their freshness and liveliness. The volumes are delightful . ' —

Times.

CHATTO 6* WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 19

Crown 8yo, cloth extra, gilt, with Portraits, *js, 6d.

Lamb's Complete Works,

In Prose and Verse, reprinted from the Original Editions, with many Pieces hitherto unpublished. Edited, with Notes and In- troduction, by R. H. Shepherd. "With Two Portraits and Fac- simile of a page of the " Essay on Roast Pig." " The genius 0/ Mr. Lamb^ as developed in kis various wriiingSt takes rank with the most original of the age. Asa critic he stands facile princeps in the sub- jects he handled Search English literature throu^h^ Jrom its Jirst beginnings until now, astdyou willjind none like hint. There u not a criticism he ever wrote that does not directly tell you a number of things you had no previous notion of. In criticism he weu, inaeedt in all senses of the wordy a discoverers-like fiasco, NuneZy or Magellan, in that very domain of literature with which vou fancied yourself most variously and closely acquainted^ he wotUd show you Afresh fields and pastures new* and these the most fruitful and delightful. For the riches he discovered were richer that they had lain so deep — the more valuable were they^ whenfotmdt that they had eluded the search of ordinary men. As an essayist ^ Charles Lamb will be remembered in years to come with Rabelais and Montaigne, with Sir Thomas Browne, with Steele and with Addison, He unites many of the finest characteristics of these several writers. He has wisdom and wit <f the highest order, exquisite humour, a genuine and cordial vein of pleasantry, and the most heart-touching pathos. In the largest acceptation .of the word, he is a humanist"— J OHn Forster.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with numerous Illustrations, lar. 6d.

Mary & Charles Lamb:

Their Poems, Letters and Remains. With Reminiscences and Notes by W. Carew Hazlitt. With Hancock's Portrait of the Essayist, Facsimiles of the Title-pages of the rare First Editions of Lamb's and Coleridge's Works, and numerous Illustrations.

" Must be consulted by all future biographers of the Lambs."— Dail.y News.

" l^ery many passages will delight those fond of literary trifles ; hardly any portion will fail in interest for lovers of Charles Lamb and his sister. " — St a n dard.

Post 8vo, cloth extra, with Portrait and Map, gs.

Lee's (General) Life and Campaigns.

By his Nephew, Edward Lee Childe. With Steel-plate Portrait by Jeens, and a Map. " A valuable and well-written contribution to the history of the Civil War in the United States." — Saturday Review.

" As a clear and compendious survey of a life qf the true heroic type, Mr. Childe' s volume may well be commended to the English reader."— Gilaphic.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, Js. 6d,

Life in London ;

• Or, The History of Jerry Hawthorn and Corinthian Tom. With the whole of Cruikshank's Illustrations, in Colours, after the Originals.

20 BOOXS PUBUSHED BY

Demy 8vo, cloth extra, with Maps and Illustrations, i8j.

Lamont 's Yachting in the Arctic Seas;

or, Notes of Five Voyages of Sport and Discovery in the Neigh- bourhood of Spitzbergen and Novaya Zemlya. By James Lamont, F.R.G.S. With numerous full-page Illustrations by Dr. LiVESAY. " After wadif^g through numberless volumes of icy Action, concocted narrative, and spurious biography of Arctic voyagers , it is pleasant to meet with a real and genuine volume. . . . He shows much tact in recounting his adventures, and they are so interspersed with anecdotes and information as to make them anything but wearisome. . . . The book, as a wnole, is the most important addition made to our Arctic literature for a long time" — ^Athen-«um. " Full of entertainment and informaiian." — Nature.

Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4J. 6d,

Linton's yoshua Davidson,

Christian and Communist. By E. Lynn Linton. Sixth Edition, *

with a New Preface. " In a short and vigorous Preface, Mrs. Linton defends her notion of the logical outcome of Christianity 'as embodied in this attempt to conceive how Christ would have acted, with whom He would have fraternised, and who would have declined to receive Him, had He appeared in the present generation." — Examiner.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7j. 6d,

Longfellow's Complete Prose Works.

Includmg ** Outre Mer," "Hyperion," ** Kavanagh," "The Poets and Poetry of Europe," and " Driftwood." With Portrait and Illustrations by Valentine Bromley.

•#• This is by far the most complete edition ever issued in this country.

• ' Outre-Mer" contains two additional chapters, restored from the ^rst edition ;

while " The Poets and Poetry of Europe,'^ and the little collection of Sketches entitled " Driftwood," are now first introduced to the English Public.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, 7^. 6</.

Longfellow's Poetical Works.

Carefully Reprinted from the Original Editions. With numerous fine Illustrations on Steel and Wood.

• • Mr. Longfellow has for many years been the best known and the most read of

American poets ; and his popularity is of the right kind, and rightly and fairly won. He has not stoopeato catch attention by artifice, nor striven to force it by violence. His works have faced the test of parody and burlesque {which in these days is almost the common lei of writings of any mark\ and have come off uh" harmed."— Satvrvay Review.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, 6s. 6d.

Lost Beauties of the English Language :

An Appeal to Authors, Poets, Clergymen, and Public Speakers. By Charles Mackay, LL.D.

CUATTO <Sr* WINDUS^ PICCADILLY. 2i

The Fraser Por^traits. — ^Demy 4to, doth gilt and gilt edges, with 83 characteristic Portraits, 31J. 6</.

Maclise's Gallery of Illustrious Literary

Characters, With Notes by Dr. Maginn. Edited, with copious Additional Notes, by William Bates, B. A.

" Otu of the most interesting volvmes qf this yearns literature."— Ti\n&.

• • Deserves a ^lace on every dmming-room table, and may not unfitly be removed

from the dratiung-room to the library." — Spectator. ,

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 2s. dd.

Madre Natura v. The Moloch of Fashion.

By Luke Limner. With 32 Illustrations by the Author. Fourth Edition, revised and enlarged.

• • Agreeably written and amusingly illustrated. Common sense and erudition

are brought to bear on the subjects discussed in <V."— Lancet.

Handsomely printed in facsimile, price $s.

Magna Charta.

An exact Facsimile of the Original Document in the British Museum, printed on fine plate paper, nearly 3 feet long by 2 feet wide, with the Arms and Seals of the Barons emblazoned in Gold and Colours.

• »* A full Translation, with Notes, on a large sheet, 6d,

Small Svo, cloth extra, 7^ . 6d.

Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom

Sawyer.

" The earlier part of the booh is to our thinking the most amusing thing Mark 7\uain has written. The humour is not always uproarious, but it is always genuine, and sometimes almost pathetic."— Athrnjbvm.

• • A book to be read. There is a certain freshness and novelty about it, aprac'

iically romantic character, so to speak, which will make it very attractive." — Spectator.

'* From a novel so replete with good things, and one so full of significance, as it brings before us what we can feel is the real spirit of home life tn the Far West, there is no possibility of obtaining extracts which will convey to the reader any idea of the purport of the book^ . . . The book will no doubt be a great favourite with boys, for whom it must in good part have been intended; but next to boys, we should say that it might be most prized by philosophers and poets." — Examiner.

" Will delight all the lads who may get hold of it. We have made the experi- tnetU.upon a youngster, and found that the reading of the book brought on constant peals of laughter." — Scotsman.

Crown Svo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, *J5. 6d.

Mark Twain's Choice Works.

Revised and Corrected throughout by the Author. With Life, Portrait, and numerous Illustrations.

Post Svo, illustrated boards, 2j.

Mark Twain's Pleasure Trip on the

Continent of Europe, ("The Innocents Abroad," and "The New Pilgrim's Progress.**)

fiOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Two Vols, crown 8vo, cloth extra, i8j.

Marston's (Dr. fVestland) Dramatic

and Poetical Works, Collected Library Edition. " Tke * Patriciate s Daughter* is an oasis in the desert of modem dramatic literature, a real emanation of mind. We do not recoiled any modem work in which states of thought are so freely developed, except the * Torquato Tasso ' of Goethe. The pia^ is a work of art in the same sense that a play of Sophocles is a work of art ; it ts one simple idea in a state of gradual deveU^ment , , . * The Favourite of Fortune* ts one of the most important additions to the stock of English prose comedy that has Sifen made during the present century." — Times.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, &r.

Marstofis (Philip B.) All in All:

Poems and Sonnets.

• • Many of these Poems are leavenid with the leaven of genuine poetical senti'

ment, and expressed with grace and beauty of language. A tender melancholy, as well as a Penetrating pathos, gives character ta much of their sentiment, and lends it an irresistible interest to all who can feel*" — Standard.

Crown 8yo, cloth extra, 8j.

Marstofis (Philip B.) Song Tide,

And other Poems. Second Edition. " This is afirst work of extraordinary performance and of still more exiraor^ dinary^ promise. The youngest school of English poetry has received an important accession to its ranks in Philip Bourke Marston."—ExAMiUER.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, gilt edges, 7j. 6d.

Muses of May/air :

Vers de Society of the Nineteenth Century. Including Selections from Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, Rossetti, Jean Ingelow, Locker, Ingoldsby, Hood, Lytton, C. S. C, LAN DOR, Austin Dobson, Henry S. Leigh, &c, &c Edited by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Vignette Portraits, price 6j. per VoL

The Old Dramatists :

Ben Jonsofis Works.

With Notes, Critical and Ex- planatory, and a Biographical Memoir by William Gifford. Edited by Col. Cunningham. Three Vols.

Chapman's Works,

Now First Collected. Complete in Three Vols. Vol. I. contains the Plays complete, including the doubtful ones ; Vol. II. the Poems and Minor Translations, with an Introductory Essay by

Algernon Charles Swin- burne ; Vol. III. the Transla- tions of the Iliad and Odyssey.

Marlowe's Works.

Including his Translations. Edi- ted, with Notes and Introduction, by Col. Cunningham. One Vol.

Massinger's Plays,

From the Text of William Gifford. With the addition of the Tragedy of " Believe as you List." Edited by Col. Cun- ningham. One Vol.

CHATTO &* WINDUS^ PICCADILLY. 23

Fcap. 8vo, doth extra, ^.

O'Shaughnessys (Arthur) An Epic of

IVomm, and other Poems. Second Edition. * Crown 8vo, cloth extra, lor. 6ei,

O' Shaughnessy s Lays of France.

(Founded on the " Lays of Marie.") Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, 7J, 6</.

O' Shaughnessy s Music and Moonlight :

Poems and Songs.

• '// is difficult I0 say which is more exquisite, the technical perfection oj

structure and melody^ or the delicate pathos (if thought. Mr. O Shaughttessy vnll enrich our literature with some 0/ the very best songs written in our genera'

/fSw. "— ACADBMY.

Crown Svo, carefully printed on creamy paper, and tastefully bound in cloth for the Library, price 6s, each.

The Piccadilly Novels:

Popular Stories by the Best Authors.

Antonina. By Wilkie Collins.

lUustxated by Sir J. Gilbert and Alfred Concanen.

Basil. By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by Sir John Gilbert and J. Mahoney.

Hide and Seek. By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by Sir John Gilbert and J. Mahoney,

The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins .

Illustrated by Sir John Gilbert and H. Furniss.

Queen of Hearts. By Wilkie Collins.

' Illustrated by Sir J. Gilbert and A Concanen.

My Miscellanies. By Wilkie Collins.

With Steel Portrait, and Illustrations by A. Concanen.

The Woman in White. By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by Sir J. Gilbert and F. A. Fraser,

The Moonstone. By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by G. Du Maurier and F. A. Fraser.

Man and Wife. By wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by William Small.

mmxs jpususffBD by

The Piccadilly Novels — continued.

Poor Miss Finch. By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by Q. Du Maukier and Edward Hughes.

Miss or Mrs. ? By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by S. L. Fildes and Henry Woods.

The New Magdalen. By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by G. Du Maurier and C. S. RAnds.

The Frozen Deep, By Wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by G. Du Maurier and J. Mahoney.

The Law and the Lady. By wilkie Collins.

Illustrated by S. L. Fildes and S. Hall.

• * Like all the author's ivorks^ full of a certain power and ingenuity. . . . It

is upon such suggestions of crime that the fascination of the story depetids. . . . The reader feels it his duty to serve to the end upon the inquest on which he^tas been called by the author"— TiVLHS.

Felicia. By M. Betham Edwards.

• • A noble novel. Its teaching is elevated^ its story is s^PathetiCy and the kind

of feeling its perusal leaves behind is that more ordinarily derivedfrom music or poetry than from Prose fiction. Few works in modem fiction stand as high in our estimation as this." — Sunday Times.

Patricia Kemball. By e. Lynn Linton.

With Frontispiece by G. Du Maurier.

"A very clever and well-constructed story ^ original and striking, interesting all through. A novel abounding in thought and Power and interest. ** — Ti mes.

• ' Displays genuine humour, as well as keen social observation. Enough graphic

portraiture and witty observation to furnish materials for half-a-dozen novels of the ordinary kind.**— Satvkdav Review.

The Atonement of Leant Dundas. By e. Lynn Linton.

• • In her narrowness and her depths in her boundless loyalty, her selfforgetting

passion^ that exclusiveness of love which is akin to cruelty^ and the fierce humility which is vicarious pride ^ Leam Dundas is a striking Jigure, In one quality the authoress has in some measure surpassed herself, -—Vkll Mall Gazette.

The EvilEye.and other Stories. By Katharine s.macquoid. Illustrated by Thomas R. Macquoid and Percy Macquoid. "For Norman country life what the ' Johnny Ludlow * stories are for English rural delineation, that is, cameos delicately, if not very minutely or vividly wrought, and quite ^nishtd enough to give a pleasurable sense of artistic ease and faculty. A word of commendation is merited by the illustratiof is."— Academy.

Number Seventeen. By Henry Kingsley.

Oakshott Castle. By henry Kingsley.

"A brisk and clear north wind of sentiment^-'sentiment that braces instead of enervating— blows through all his works, and makes all their readers at once healthier and more glad. — Spectator.

CHATTO 6* JVINDUS^ PICCADILLY. 25

The Piccadilly ^qvYi^^r- continued.

Open ! Sesame I By Florence Marryat.

Illustrated by F. A. Fraser.

• • A story which arouses and sustains the reader* s interest to a higher dezree

than, perhafst any of its authot's former works. , . . A very excellent

• /tfry '^—Graphic.

Whiteladies. By Mrs. oliphant.

With Illustrations by A. Hopkins and H. Woods.

• ' Is really a pleasant and readable hooky written with practical ease and

grace."— Tivijss.

The Best of Husbands. By James payn.

Illustrated by J. Moyr S^itk.

Walter's Word. ByjAMEsPAYN.

Illustrated by J. MoYR Smith.

Halves y and other Stories, By James payn.

• • His novels are always commendable in the sense of art. They also possess

another distinct claim to our liking : the girls in them are remarkably charm- iru- and true to nature, as most People^ we believe^ have the good fortune to observe nature represented by girls." — Si-ectatok.

The Way we Live Now, By Anthony trollope.

With Illustrations.

• • Mr, Tivllope has a true artist's idea of tone^ of colour^ of harmony : his

pictures are one^ and seldom out of^ drawing; he never strains after effect ^is fidelity itself in expressing English life^ is never guilty of caricature." — *

FORTNIGWTLY ReVIBW.

Diamond Cut Diamond. By t. a. Trollope.

" The indefinable charm of Tuscan and Venetian life breathes in his pages." —Times.

'* Full of lifct of interest^ of close observation^ and sympathy. . . . When Mr. Trollope paints a scene tt is sure to be a scene worth painting." — Satur- day Review.

Bound to the Wheel, By John Saunders.

Guy Waterman, By John Saunders.

One Against the World, By John Saunders.

The Lion in the Path, By John Saunders.

• • A carefully written and beautiful story—a story of goodttess and truths

which is yet as interesting as though it dealt with the opposite qualities. , . . The author of this really clever story has been at great pains to work out all its details with elaborate conscientiousness^ and the result is a very vivid picture of the ways of life atid habits of thought of a hundred and fifty years ago. "

. . Certainly a very interesting book,"—TiUES.

26 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Crown 8vo, red cloth, extra, 5^. each.

Ouida 's Novels. — Uniform Edition.

Folk Farine. By Ouida. I PascareL By Ouida.

Idalia. By Ouida.

Chandos. By Ouida.

UnderTwo Flags. By ouida. Tricotrin. By Ouida.

Cecil Castlemaini s

Gage, By OuiDA,

Puck, By Ouida.

Dog of Flanders. By Ouida. Strathmore. By Ouida.

Two Little Wooden

Shoes, By OuiDA.

Signa. By Ouida-

Held in Bondage, By Ouida. 1 ^^ ^ W^^^^^ City, By Ouida.

" Keen fpetic insight, an intense love of nature^ a deep admiration of the beautiful in form and colour, are the gifts of Ouida.** — Morning Post.

Mr. WiLKiE CoLLiNS's NEW NovEL.— Two Vols. crown 8vo, 2ij.

The Two Destinies:

A Romance. By Wilkie Collins, Author of "The Woman in White."

" Curious, clever, here and there of absorbing interest.*'— Nokcokformist.

•* As full of absorbing interest as * The Woman in White.* With practised art and all his old lucidity of style, Mr. Collins excites the reader^ s interest in the very first chapter. A strong vein of the supernatural runs through * The Two Destinies: which cannot fail to be read with intense interest.*'— Ili^vstratkv Nsws.

" Admirers qf the author's remarkable constructive skill, among which multitude we may claim a forward place, will begin his new work with keener interest than usual when they see from the dedication that it has satisfied so exacting a critic as Mr. Charles Reade, who, we are informed, has been pleased to be interested by a

• certain novelty of design and treatment * found in i/.**— Manchester Examiner.

New Novel by Dr. Sand with.— Three Vols. cr. 8vo, 31J. 6d,

Minsterborough :

A Tale of English Life. By Humphry Sandwith, C.B., D.C.L

• • // is a long time since we have read anything so refreshing as the novel to

the composition of which Mr, Sandwith has been devoting such time and labour as could be spared from the more serious duties of an afostle of Democracy and clean water. Everythint^ in the book is so delightfully straightforward. We are never bothered with subtle analysis qf character^ or with dark suggesiiofis that things are other than they seem. , , . The story is not at all badly

told,"—ArHE.liMVM.

Jean Middlemass's New Novel. — Three Vols, crown 8vo, 31J. 6d,

Mr. Dorillion:

A Novel. By Jean Middlemass, Author of "Wild Georgie."

" This is quite the best novel which Miss Middlemass has written. The story is well conceived, well told, full of strong situations, and rich in surprises; the characters speak, act^ and think like human beings, and the style is uniformly lively and well sustained,"— yfOKLD,

CIIATTO 6* WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 27

A New Writer.— Three Vols, crown 8vo, 31J. dd.

The Democracy :

A Novel. By Whyte Thorne.

• • A vtry car^ful^ and in many respects very praiseworthy stofy^-^SArvR"

DAY RbVIBW.

• • // is always difficult for anyone not personally concerned in English

politics to write about them without making serious blunders ; but the author of the novel be/ore us keeps clear of error, and writes pleasantly enough."^* Athbn^ubi.

Mrs. Macquoid's New Novel.— Three Vols, crown 8vo, 31J. 6d,

Lost Rose;

and other Stories. By Katharine S. Macquoid. T. A. Trollope's New Novel.— Three Vols, crown 8vo, 31J. 6d.

A Family Party in the Piazza of

St. Peter's, By T. Adolphus Trollope. \In the press.

New Novel by James Greenwood. — 3 vols, crown 8yo, 31J. 6</.

Dick Temple.

By James Greenwood. [/« the press.

Two Vols. 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, lOf. dd,

Plutarch's Lives of Illustrious Men.

Translated from the. Greek, with Notes Critical and Historical, and a Life of Plutarch, by John and William Langhorne. New Edition, with Medallion Portraits. " When I write 1 1 care not to have books about me ; but J can hardly be without a * Plutarch' "—Montaigne.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Portrait and Illustrations, 7^. 6d,

Poe's Choice Prose and Poetical tVorks.

With Baudelaire's ** Essay."

" Poe*s great power lay in writing tales ^ which rank in a class by themselves, and have their characterisiics strongly defined."— Y'rask^'s Magazine.

" Poe stands as much alone among verse-writers as Salvator Rosa among painters.** — Spectator.

Small 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 3^. dd.

The Priitce of Argolis :

A Story of the Old Greek Fairy Time. By J. Moyr Smith. With 130 Illustrations by the Author.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Portrait and Facsimile, I2j. (id.

The Final Reliques of Father Prout.

Collected and Edited, from;MSS. supplied by the 'family of the Rev. Francis Mahony, by Blanchard Jerrold.

• We heartily commend this handsome volume to all lovers of sound vnt, gtnuine

humour, and manly sense.** — Spectator.

• • sparkles all overy and is full of interest. Mahony^ like Sydney Smithy

could write on no subject without being brilliant and witty, **—Bkitish Quarterly Review.

• ' It is well thai the present long-delayed volume should remind a younger

generation of his fame. . . . The charming Utters from Paris, Florence, and Rome . . . are the most perfect specimens of what a foreign correspondence ought to be.**—AcADEMV.

In Two Series, small 4to, blue and gold, gilt edges, 6s, each.

Puniana ;

or, Thoughts Wise and Other- Why's. A New Collection of Riddles, Conundrums, Jokes, Sells, &c. In Two Series, each containing 3000 of the best Riddles, 10,000 most outrageous Puns, and upwards of Fifty beautifully executed Drawings hy the Editor, the Hon. Hugh Rowley. Each Series is complete in itself.

"A witty, droll, and most amusing work, Prtifusely and elegantly illustrated,** — Standard.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7^, 6d,

The Pursuivant of Arms ;

or. Heraldry founded upon Facts. A Popular Guide to the Science of Heraldry. By J. R. PlAnch6, Esq., -Somerset Herald. To which are added. Essays on the Badges of the Houses of Lancaster and York. With Coloured Frontis- piece, five full-page Plates, and about 200 Illustrations.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, is, 6d,

Rabelais' JVorks.

Faithfully Translated from the French, with variorum Notes, and numerous Characteristic Illustrations by Gustave Dor£.

Handsomely printed, price 5j.

The Roll of Battle Abbey ;

Or, a List of the Principal Warriors who came over from Nor- mandy with William the Conqueror, and Settled in this Country, A.D. 1066-7. Printed on fine plate paper, nearly three feet by two, with the principal Arms emblazoned in -Gold and Colours.

CHATTO &* WINDUS^ PICCADILLY.

29

In 4to, very handsomely printed, extra gold cloth, I2J.

The Roll of Caerlaverock^

The Oldest Heraldic Roll ; including the Original Anglo-Norman .Poem, and an English Translation of the MS. in the British Museum. By Thomas Wright, M. A. The Arms emblazoned in. Gold and Colours.

New AND Popular Edition OF ** Sanson's Memoirs." — One Vol. crown 8vo, cloth extra, *!$, 6d,

Memoirs of the Sanson Family :

Seven Generations of Executioners. Compiled from Private Documents in the possession of the Family. By Henri Sanson. Translated from the French, with an Introduction, by Camille

BARRfeRE.

• ^ A faithful translation of this curious vforh, which will certainly rePa^ perusal

— not on the pround of its being full of horrors, for the original author seems to be rather ashamed of the technical aspect of^ his professiony and is commendabfy reticeftt as to its details, but because it contains a lucid account of the most notable causes c^ibres from the time of Louis XIV. to a Period within the memory of persons still living. . . . Can scarcely fail to be ejetremely entertaining.*^— Daily Telbgraph.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, profusely Illustrated, 4r, 6*/. each.

The '* Secret Out " Series.

The Volumes are as follows : The Art of A musing :

A Collection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks, Puzzles, and Cha- rades. By Frank Bellew. 300 Illustrations.

Hanky-Panky :

Very Easy Tricks, Very Difficult Tricks, White Magic, Sleight of Hand. Edited by W. H. Cre- MER. 200 Illustrations.

Magician's Own Book :

Performances with Cups and Balls, E^gs, Hats, Handkerchiefs, &c. All from Actual Experience. Edited by W. H. Cremer. 200 Illustrations.

Magic No Mystery .

Tricks with Cards, Dice, Balls, &c., with fully descriptive Direc- tions ; the Art of Secret Writing ; the Training of Performing Ani- mals, &c. With Coloured Fron- tispiece and many Illustrations.

TAe Merry Circle : A Book of New Intellectual Games and Amusements. By Clara Bellew. Many Illustrations.

The Secret Out :

One Thousand Tricks with Cards, and other Recreations ; with En- tertaining Experiments in Draw- ing-room or " White Magic." By W. H. Cremer. 300 Engraving?.

Post 8vo, with Illustrations, cloth extra, gilt edges, i&r.

The Lansdowne Shakespeare.

Beautifully printed in red and black, in small but very clear type. With engraved facsimile of Droeshout*s Portrait, and 37 beautiful Steel Plates, after Stothard.

30 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

In reduced facsimile, small 8vo, half Roxburghe, lo;. 6^.

The First Folio Shakespeare.

Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, and Trage- dies. Published according to the true Originall Copies. London, Printed by Isaac Iaggard and Ed. Blount, 1623. — An exact Reproduction of the extremely rare original, in reduced facsimile by a photographic process — ensuring the strictest accuracy in every detail. A full prospectus will be sent upon application, " To Messrs. Ckatto and Wtndus belongs the merit of having done tnore to facilitate the critical study 0/ the tcAt of our great dramatist than all the Shakes- peare clubs and societies put together. A complete facsimile of the celebrated First Folio edition of 1623 for half-a-guinea is at once a mireule of cheapness and enterprise. Being in a reduced form^ the tvpe is necessarily rather diminutive^ but it is as distinct as in a genuine coPy of the original^ and will be found to be as useful and far more handy to the student than the latter." — Athsn>6UM.

Two Vols, crown 8vo, cloth extra, i8j.

The School of Shakespeare.

Includmg "The Life and Death of Captain Thomas Stukeley," with a New Life of Stucley, from Unpublished Sources ; ** A Warning for Fair Women," with a Repnnt of the Account of the Murder ; " Nobody and Somebody; " " The Cobbler's Prophecy; " " Histriomastix ; " "The Prodigal Son," &c. Edited, with In- troductions and Notes, by Richard Simpson.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with 10 iiill-page Tinted Illustrations, 7^. 6d,

Sheridan's Complete Works,

with Life and Anecdotes. Including his Dramatic Writings, printed from the Original Editions, his Works in Prose and Poetry, Translations, Speeches, Jokes, Puns, &c. ; with a Collec- tion of Sheridaniana.

• • The editor has brought together within a manageable compass not only the

seven plays by which Sheridan is best knoivn, but a collection also of his poetical Pieces which are less familiar to the Public, sketches of unfinished dramcu, selections from his reported witticisms, and extracts from his princij^l speeches. To these is prefixed a short but well-written memoir, giving the chief facts in Sheridan's literary and political career ; so that, with this volume in h^ hand, the student ■may consider himself tolerably well furnished with all that is necessary for a getieral comprehension of the subject of it.*'— Vajjl Mall Gazbttk.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, ^s. (>d.

Signboards ;

Their History. With Anecdotes of Famous Taverns and Re- markable Characters. By Jacob Larwood and John Camden HoTTEN. With nearly 100 Illustrations. " Even if we were ever so maliciously inclined, we could not pick out all Messrs.

Larwood and Hotten's plums, because the good things are so numerous as to defy

the most wholesale depredation."— TiWBS.

CHATTO 6* WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 31

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 6s, 6d.

The Slang Dictionary :

Etymological, Historical, and Anecdotal. An Entirely New Edition, revised throughout, and considerably Enlarged.

" IVe are glad to see the Slang Dictionary reprinted and enlarged. From a high scientific point of view this book is not to be despised. Of course it cannot fail to be amusing also^ It contains the very vocabulary of unrestrained humour^ and oddity t and grotesqueness. In a word^ it provides valuable material both for the student ^language and the student of human nature."— Acaukjay.

Exquisitely printed in miniature, cloth extra, gilt edges, 2s, 6d.

The Smoker's Text-Book.

By J. Hamer, F.R.S.L.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 9^.

Stedman's Victorian Poets ;

Critical Essays. By Edmund Clarence Stedman.

• • iVe ought to be thankful to those who do critical -work with competent skill

and understanding t with honesty of purpose ^ and with diligence and thoroughness of execution. And Mr. Stedman^ having chosen to work in this line^ deserves the thanks of English scholars by these qualities and by something more ; . . . , he is faithful, studious, and discerning."— SArvTRT>AV Rkview. ^__

Imperial 4to, containing 150 beautifully-finished full-page Engravings and Nine Vignettes, all tinted, and some illuminated in gold and colours, half-morocco, £g gs,

Stothard's Monumental Effigies of Great

Britain. With Historical Description and Introduction, by John Kempe, F. S. a. a New Edition, with a large body of Additional Notes by John Hewitt.

• • A new edition of Stothard is quite an era in Archeeology, and we welcome it

the more because two of the most industrious members of the Archaological Insti- tute have contributed greatly to its augmentation and improvement. The work has been reproduced by Messrs. Chatto &* JVindus, with many additional notes by Mr. Hewitt. In oraer to the Production of these notes ^ Mr. Hewitt visited almost all the monuments drawn by Stothard^ and the result of his examinations was a cofistant subject of discussion between himself and Mr. Albert tVay^ to which we owe the large amount of additamenta in the new edition now before us. To Stothard* sworky more than to any other ^ may perhaps be attributed the great revived of taste and feeling^ for the monuments 0/ our ancestors which the present generation has seen. The interest qfthe subject is of the most universal character^ and this new edition of Stothard is sure to be very popular. It will be a great satis/action to our readers to find that the result of recent Archceological Investi- gations upon such subjects have been carefully brought together in the work under consideration. Besides the exhaustive account of the effigies themselves^ the work at it now stands includes a concise history of medioeval costume^ of monumental architecture^ sculpture^ brass engravin^^ and the numerous topics arisingfrom the review of a series of examples extending from the twelfth to the sixteetk century. Foreign as well as English monuments have been called into requisition to illustrate the numerous points discussed in the «M7r^."— Arch.«ological Journal, June, Z876.

• »* A few Large Paper copies, royal folio, with all the coats of arms

illuminated in gold and colours, and the plates very carefully finished in body-colours, heightened with gold in the very finestZ,style, half- morocco, ^15 15 j.

32 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Large 8vo, half-Roxburghe, with Illustrations, price qj.

Stow's Survey of London.

Indited by W. J. Thoms, F.S. A. A New Edition, with Copper- plate Illustrations.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7j. 6^.

Swiff s Choice Works, . ,

in Prose and Verse. With Memoir, Portrait, and Facsimiles of the Maps in the Original Edition of ** Gulliver's Travels."

" The * Tale of a Tub* «, in niy apprekensioH^ the masterpiece of Swift ; certainly Rabelais has nothing superior ^ even in invention, nor anything so con- densedf so pointed, so full of real meaning, qf biting satire, of felicitous analogy. The * Battle of the Books ' is such an improvement on the similar combat in the Zutn'n, that we can hardly own it as an imitation." — Hali^am.

• ' Swift's reputation as a poet has been in a manner obscured by the greater splen-

dour, by the natural force and inventive genius, of his Prose writings ; but, if he had never written either the * Tale of a Tub* or * Gulliver's Travels,* his name merely as a poet would have come down to us, and have gone down to posterity, •with well-earned honours." — Hazlitt.

Mr. Swinburne's Works :

The Queen Mother and

Rosamond, Fcap. 8vo, S^.

Atalanta in Ccdydon.

A New Edition. Crown 8vo, dr.

Chastelard,

A Tragedy. Fcap. 8vo, js.

Poems and Ballads.

Fcap. 8vo, 9J.

Notes on ^^ Poems and

Ballads,*' 8vo, u.

William Blake:

A Critical Essay. With Facsimile Paintings. Demy 8vo, i^s.

Songs before Sunrise,

Crown 8vo» los. 6d,

Bothwell,

A Tragedy. Two Vols, cro^ 8vo, I2J. td.

George Chapman:

An Essay. Crown 8vo, js.

Songs of Two Nations,

Crown 8vo, dr.

Essays and Studies,

Crown 8vo, i2j.

Erechtheus :

A Tragedy. Crown 8vo, dr.

" The easy -sweep of his flonuing verse suggests anything rather than the idea o ej^ort. Nor have we ever seen him stronger than in this poem of * Erechtheus ; while no one can say, as they are borne along with his melodious numbers, that Ke has been betrayed into sacrificing meaning to sound. He seems to have taught the enthusiasm of a congenial subject ; to have been carried buck to the spirit of ah heroic age, to have fired his fancy with the thoughts and sensaHons that might have animated trie soul of a god'born A tltenian in the supreme crisis of his country's fate. ... Never before has Mr. Swinburne shown himself more mastetly in hts ckor^tses; magnificent in their ^re atid spirit, they have more than the rival gracesofdtctton and smoothness of melody. . . . The best proof of the itdfihhir beauty of these choruses is the extreme reluctance with which you brim yourself

/Ai'^^T^iSrt^/*' vl '*f'^**j.^ ^*'«/^^^ *i *^r^' sacriUgiouP to detach thfgeiks,andit tswttha sense of your ruifiUss Vandalism that you shatter the . ai^/ssefting.**-^EviHivRGH Review, yuly, 1876, in a review of** Ettcktheusr -

CHATTO 6- WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 33

Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, 3^. 6</.

Rossetti's(W. M.) Criticism upon Swin-

bumis ** Poems and Ballads.^'*

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with lUustrations, 7j. dd.

St ruffs Sports and Pastimes of the

People of England ; including the Rural and Domestic Recrea- tions, May Games, Mummeries, Shows, Processions, Pageants, and Pompous Spectacles, from the Earliest Period to the Present Time. With 140 Illustrations. Edited by William Hone.

• ^ A few Large Paper Copies, with an extra set of Copperplate

Illustrations, carefully coloured by hand, from the Originals, 50?.

Medium 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7^. 6d,

Dr. Syntax's Three Tours,

in Search of the Picturesque, in Search of Consolation, and in Search of a Wife. With the whole of Rowlandson*s droll full- page Illustrations, in Colours, and Life of the Author by J. C.

HOTTEN.

Large post 8vo, cloth, full gilt, gilt top, with Illustrations, 12s, 6d,

Thackerayana :

Notes and Anecdotes. Illustrated by a profusion of Sketches by William Makepeace Thackeray, depicting Humorous Inci- dents in his School-life, and Favourite Characters in the books^ of his everyday reading. With Hundreds of Wood Engravings and Five Coloured Plates, from Mr. Thackeray's Original Drawings. •*// would have been a real loss to hibliographiceU literature had copyright difficulties deprived the general public of this very amusing collection. One qf Thackeray* s habits, from his schoolboy days, was to ornament the margins and blank Pages of the books he had in use with caricature illustrations of their contents. Thts gave special value to the sale of his library, and is almost cause for regret that it could not have been preserved in its integrity. Thttckerajfs place tn literature is eminent enough to have made this an interest to future generations. The anonymous editor has done the best that he could to compen- sate for the lack of this. He has obtained access to the principal works thus dispersed, and he speaks, not only of th« readiness with which their possessors complied with his request, but of the abundance of the material spontaneously proffered to him. Me has thus been able to reproduce in facsimile the five or six hundred sketches of this volume. They differ, of course, not only in cleverness, but in finish ; but they unquestionably establish Thackeray's capability tif becoming, if not an eminent artist, yet a great caricaturist. A grotesque fancy, an artistic touch, and a power of reproducing unmistakable portraits in cotmc exaggerations, as well as of embodyinjg ludicrous ideas pictoriall^, make the book very amusing. Still more valuable is the descriptive, biographual, cutd anecdotal letterpress, which gives us a great accumulation of bit^a^hical infor- mation concerning Thackeray's works, readif^, history, and habtts, fVithout being a formal biography, it tells us scores of thirds that could scarcely have come into any biography. We have no clue to the sources of information possessed by the editor. Apparently he has been a most diligent student of his hero, a$td OH ind^atigcUde collector qf scraps of information concerning his entirt Uterary career* Ire can testify only to the great interest qf the book, 'and to the vast amount of curious information which it contains. IVe regret that it has been&tiblished without the sanction qfhisfasnily, but no admirer «r Thackeray should be with- out it. It is em admirable addendum, not only to nis collected works, but also to any memoir qf him that has been, or that is likely to be «frxV/m."— British OuARTSSLV Review.

34

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY

Crown 8vo, dloth extra, gilt edges, with Illustrations, *js. 6d,

Thomson's Seasons and Castle of In- dolence, With a Biographical and Critical Introduction by Allan Cunningham, and over 50 fine Illustrations on Steel and Wood. ■

Crown 4to, cloth extra, gilt and gilt edges, with Illustrations, 21J.

Thornbury's Historical and Legendary

Ballads and Songs, Illustrated by J. Whistler, John Ten- NiEL, A, F. Sandys, W. Small, M. J. Lawless, J. D. Watson, G. J. Pinwell, F. Walker, and others.

• • Mr. Thombury has perceived with laudable clearness that <me great re-'

quisite of poetry is that it should antttse. He rivals Goethe in the variety and startling incidents of his ballad-romances; he is full of vivacity and spirit, and his least impassioned pieces ring with a good out-of-doors music of sword and shield. Some of his mediteval poems are particularly rich in colour and tone. The old Norse ballads^ too, are worthy of great Praise. Best of all, however, we like his Cavalier songs; there is nothing of the kind in English more spirited, masculine^ and merry,**-— ackdismy.

• • Will be welcomed by all true lovers of art. . . , We must be grateful

that so many works of a school distinguished for its originality should be col<- lected into a single volume."—SATVKDAY Review.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, los, 6d,

Cyril Tourneur's Collected Works,

including a unique Poem, entitled "The Transformed Me-

' tamorphosis ; " and "Laugh and Lie Down, or, the World's

Folly." Now first Collected, and Edited, with Critical Preface,

Introductions, and Notes, by J. Churton Collins. \In the press.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, *js, 6d.

y. M. W. Turners Life and Correspond- ence, Founded upon Letters and Papers furnished by his Friends and fellow Academicians. By Walter Thorn bury. A New Edition, entirely rewritten and considerably enlarged. With numerous Illustrations.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7^. (^.

Timbs' Clubs and Club Life in London.

With Anecdotes of its famous Coffee-houses, Hostelries, and Taverns. By John Times, F.S.A. With numerous Illustrations.

• • The book supplies a inucJifelt want. The club is the avenue to general

society of the preseftt day^ and Mr. Timbs gives the entrde to the club. The scholar and antiquary will also find the work a repertory of information on many diiputed points of literary interest, and especially respecting various luell- kntnvn anecdotes, the rahtc of which only increases ivith the lapse of time." — Morning Post.

CHATTO ^ WINDUS, PICCADILLY, 35

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7^. dd,

Timbs' English Eccentrics and Ec-

rentrictties : Stories of Wealth and Fashion, Delusions, Impos- tures, and Fanatic Missions, Strange Sights and Sporting Scenes, Eccentric Artists, Theatrical Folks, Men of Letters, &c By John TiMBS, F.S.A. With nearly 50 Illustrations. " The reader who would fain enjoy a harmless laugh in some very odd company might do much worse than take an occasional dip into * English Eccentrics* The illustrations are admirably suited io the letterpress."— Girafuic,

Crown 4to, half-Roxburghe, 12s, 6d,

, Vagabondiana ;

or, Anecdotes of Mendicant Wande:-crs through the Streets of London ; with Portraits of the most Remarkable, drawn from the Life by John Thomas Smith, late Keeper of the Prints in the British Museum. With Introduction by Francis Douce, and Descriptive Text. With the Woodcuts and the J2 Plates, from the original Coppers.

Large crown 8vo, -cloth antique, with Illustrations, 7^. 6d»

Walton and Cotton's Complete Angler ;

Or, The Contemplative Man's Recreation : being a Discourse of Rivers, Fish-ponds, Fish and Fishing, written by Izaak Walton ; and Instructions how to Angle for a Trout or Grayling in a clear Stream, by Charles Cotton. With Original Memoirs and Notes b^ Sir Harris Nicolas, K.CM.G. With the 61 Plate Illustrations, precisely as in Pickering's two- volume Edition.. "Among the reprints cf the year ^ fern will be more welcome than this edition of

the * Complete Angler^ with Sir Harris Nicolas* s Memoirs and Notes, andStothard

and Inskipfs illustrations. "— S atu rday Revi ew.

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Vignette Portrait, px.

Wells' yoseph and his Brethren :

A Dramatic PoenL By Charles Wells. With an Introductory Essay by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

•• The author 0/ * Joseph and his Brethren* will some day httoe io be acknoW' tedged among the memorable men 0/ the second great period in our poetry. . . . There are lines even in the overture of his poem which mifht, it seems to me, more naturally be ^mistaken exten by an expert in verse for the work of the young ShaksPeare, than any to l^ gathered elsewhere in the fields of English poetry.** — Swinburne.

" In its combination of strength and delicacy, in sweet liquid musical flow, in just cadence, and in dramatic incisiveness of utterance,, the language through- out keeps closer to the level of the Elizabethan dramatists than that of any dramatist of subsequent times.** — ^AtheNjBum.

Carefully printed on paper to imitate the Original, 22 in. by 14 in., price $s.

The Warrant to Execute Charles I.

An exact Facsimile of this important Document, with the Fifty- nine Signatures of the Regicides, and corresponding ^f^^p^ryTp

36 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO <Sr- WINDUS. Beautifully printed on paper to imitate the Original MS., price 2j.

Warrant to Execute Mary Q. of Scots.

An exact Facsimile, including the Signature of Queen Elizabeth, and a Facsimile of the Great Seal.

In portfolios, price ;f 4 4;. each series.

Wild's Cathedrals.

Select Examples of the Ecclesiastical Architecture of the Middle Ages ; arranged in Two Series (the First Foreign, the Second English). Each Series containing Twelve fine Plates, mounted upon Cardboard, and carefully Coloured, after the Original Draw- ings, by Charles Wild.

Three Vols. 8vo, with 103 Plates, exhibiting nearly four hundred figures^ of Birds, accurately engraved and beautifully printed in Colours, cloth extra, gilt, ^3 3^.

Wilson's American Ornithology ;

or, Natural History of the Birds of the United States^; with the Continuation by Prince Charles Lucian Bonaparte. New and Enlarged Edition, completed \iy the insertion of above One Hundred Birds omitted in the Original Work, and Illustrated by valuable Notes, and a Life of the Author, by Sir William Jardine.

" The History p/ American Birds f by. AUxoftder Wilson, is. equal in elegance to the most distinguished of our own splendid works on Omtthology/*—CvviER.

%* Also a few Large Paper copies, 4to, with the Plates all care- fully Coloured by hand, at £^ 6s,

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Illustrations, 7^. 6d.

Wright 's Caricature History of the

Georges, ( Tfie House of Hanover.) With 400 Pictures, Caricatures,

Squibs, Broadsides, Window Pictures, &c. By Thomas Wright,

Esq., M.A., F.S.A.

" Emphatically one of the liveliest of books, as also one of the most interesting.

Has the twofold merit of being at once amusing and edifying.** — Morning Post.

Large post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with Illustrations, 7^. (>d»

Wright 's History of Caricature and of

the Grotesque in Artj Literature^ Sculpture, and Fainting, from the Earliest Times to the Present Day. By Thomas Wright, M. A., F.S.A. Profusely illustrated by F. W. Fairholt, F.S.A. " A very amusing and instructive volume,** — Saturday Review.

I. OGraM AND CO., PBIMTBRS, X79, ST. JOHN STSENT, ■.&