He became a troubadour:
but this was not enough; his preceptors were still in doubt; they
locked him in a room and gave him as a subject the arrival of Mgr.
but this was not enough; his preceptors were still in doubt; they
locked him in a room and gave him as a subject the arrival of Mgr.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v10 - Emp to Fro
" "Ah," said he, "you make me recur to my past hap-
piness, which ought to be forgotten in order to be happy here.
For many years I could think of nothing but her, though at
length I am consoled. I have taken another wife, the most like
--
## p. 5953 (#541) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5953
her that I could find; she is not indeed altogether so handsome,
but she has a great fund of wit and good sense; and her whole
study is to please me. She is at this moment gone to fetch the
best nectar and ambrosia to regale me; stay here awhile and you
will see her. " "I perceive," said I, "that your former friend is
more faithful to you than you are to her; she has had several
good offers, but refused them all. I will confess to you that I
loved her extremely; but she was cruel to me, and rejected me
peremptorily for your sake. " "I pity you sincerely," said he,
"for she is an excellent woman, handsome and amiable. But do
not the Abbé de la Roche and the Abbé Morellet visit her? "
"Certainly they do; not one of your friends has dropped her ac-
quaintance. "—"If you had gained the Abbé Morellet with a
bribe of good coffee and cream, perhaps you would have suc-
ceeded: for he is as deep a reasoner as Duns Scotus or St.
Thomas: he arranges and methodizes his arguments in such a
manner that they are almost irresistible. Or if by a fine edition
of some old classic you had gained the Abbé de la Roche to
speak against you, that would have been still better; as I always
observed that when he recommended anything to her, she had a
great inclination to do directly the contrary. " As he finished
these words the new Madame Helvétius entered with the nectar,
and I recognized her immediately as my former American friend
Mrs. Franklin! I reclaimed her, but she answered me coldly:-
"I was a good wife to you for forty-nine years and four months,
-nearly half a century; let that content you. I have formed a
new connection here, which will last to eternity. "
Indignant at this refusal of my Eurydice, I immediately re-
solved to quit those ungrateful shades, and return to this good
world again, to behold the sun and you! Here I am: let us
avenge ourselves!
THE EPHEMERA; AN EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE
LETTER TO MADAME BRILLON OF PASSY, WRITTEN IN 1778
--
You
may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent
that happy day in the delightful garden and sweet society
of the Moulin Joly, I stopped a little in one of our walks,
and stayed some time behind the company. We had been shown
numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an ephemera,
X-373
## p. 5954 (#542) ###########################################
5954
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
whose successive generations, we were told, were bred and ex-
pired within the day. I happened to see a living company of
them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation.
You know I understand all the inferior animal tongues. My too
great application to the study of them is the best excuse I can
give for the little progress I have made in your charming lan-
guage. I listened through curiosity to the discourse of these
little creatures; but as they in their natural vivacity spoke three
or four together, I could make but little of their conversation.
I found however by some broken expressions that I heard now
and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two foreign
musicians, one a cousin, the other a moscheto; in which dispute
they spent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness
of life as if they had been sure of living a month. Happy peo-
ple! thought I; you are certainly under a wise, just, and mild
government, since you have no public grievances to complain of,
nor any subject of contention but the perfections and imperfec-
tions of foreign music. I turned my head from them to an old
gray-headed one, who was single on another leaf, and talking to
himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down in
writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so
much indebted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her
delicious company and heavenly harmony.
"It was," said he, "the opinion of learned philosophers of our
race who lived and flourished long before my time, that this
vast world, the Moulin Joly, could not itself subsist more than
eighteen hours; and I think there was some foundation for that
opinion, since by the apparent motion of the great luminary that
gives life to all nature, and which in my time has evidently de-
clined considerably towards the ocean at the end of our earth, it
must then finish its course, be extinguished in the waters that
surround us, and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessa-
rily producing universal death and destruction. I have lived
seven of those hours, a great age, being no less than four hun-
dred and twenty minutes of time. How very few of us continue
so long! I have seen generations born, flourish, and expire.
My present friends are the children and grandchildren of the
friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more! And I must
soon follow them; for by the course of nature, though still in
health, I cannot expect to live above seven or eight minutes
longer. What now avails all my toil and labor in amassing
## p. 5955 (#543) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5955
honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy? What the
political struggles I have been engaged in for the good of my
compatriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies
for the benefit of our race in general? for in politics, what can
laws do without morals? Our present race of ephemera will in
a course of minutes become corrupt, like those of other and
older bushes, and consequently as wretched. And in philosophy
how small our progress! Alas! art is long and life is short! My
friends would comfort me with the idea of a name they say I
shall leave behind me; and they tell me I have lived long enough
to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera
who no longer exists? and what will become of all history in
the eighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole Mou-
lin Joly, shall come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin ? »
To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now
remain but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well,
the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemeræ, and now
and then a kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Bril.
lante.
A PROPHECY
LETTER TO LORD KAMES, JANUARY 3D, 1760
N°
O ONE can more sincerely rejoice than I do, on the reduction
of Canada; and this is not merely as I am a colonist, but
as I am a Briton. I have long been of opinion that the
foundations of the future grandeur and stability of the British
empire lie in America; and though like other foundations they are
low and little now, they are nevertheless broad and strong enough
to support the greatest political structure that human wisdom.
ever yet erected. I am therefore by no means for restoring
Canada. If we keep it, all the country from the St. Lawrence to
the Mississippi will in another century be filled with British peo-
ple. Britain itself will become vastly more populous, by the
immense increase of its commerce; the Atlantic sea will be cov-
ered with your trading ships; and your naval power, thence con-
tinually increasing, will extend your influence round the whole
globe, and awe the world! If the French remain in Canada they
will continually harass our colonies by the Indians, and impede
if not prevent their growth; your progress to greatness will at
## p. 5956 (#544) ###########################################
5956
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
best be slow, and give room for many accidents that may forever
prevent it. But I refrain, for I see you begin to think my
notions extravagant, and look upon them as the ravings of a mad
prophet.
EARLY MARRIAGES
LETTER TO JOHN ALLEYNE, DATED CRAVEN STREET, AUGUST 9TH, 1768
You
ou desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the subject of
an ea marriage, way of answer to the numberless
objections that have been made by numerous persons to
your own. You may remember, when you consulted me on the
occasion, that I thought youth on both sides to be no objection.
Indeed, from the marriages that have fallen under my observa-
tion, I am rather inclined to think that early ones stand the best
chance of happiness. The temper and habits of the young are
not become so stiff and uncomplying as when more advanced in
life; they form more easily to each othe and hence many occa-
sions of disgust are removed. And if youth has less of that pru-
dence which is necessary to manage a family, yet the parents and
elder friends of young married persons are generally at hand to
afford their advice, which amply supplies that defect; and by
early marriage, youth is sooner formed to regular and useful life;
and possibly some of those accidents or connections that might
have injured the constitution or reputation, or both, are thereby
happily prevented.
Particular circumstances of particular persons may possibly
sometimes make it prudent to delay entering into that state; but
in general, when nature has rendered our bodies fit for it, the pre-
sumption is in nature's favor, that she has not judged amiss in
making us desire it. Late marriages are often attended, too, with
this further inconvenience: that there is not the same chance
that the parents will live to see their offspring educated. "Late
children," says the Spanish proberb, "are early orphans. " A mel-
ancholy reflection to those whose case it may be! With us in
America, marriages are generally in the morning of life; our
children are therefore educated and settled in the world by noon:
and thus, our business being done, we have an afternoon and
evening of cheerful leisure to ourselves; such as our friend at
present enjoys. By these early marriages we are blessed with
## p. 5957 (#545) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5957
more children; and from the mode among us, founded by nature,
every mother suckling and nursing her own child, more of them
are raised.
Thence the swift progress of population among us,
unparalleled in Europe.
In fine, I am glad you are married, and congratulate you most
cordially upon it. You are now in the way of becoming a useful
citizen; and you have escaped the unnatural state of celibacy for
life, the fate of many here who never intended it, but who, having
too long postponed the change of their condition, find at length
that it is too late to think of it, and so live all their lives in a
situation that greatly lessens a man's value. An odd volume of
a set of books bears not the value of its proportion to the set.
What think you of the odd half of a pair of scissors? It cannot
well cut anything; it may possibly serve to scrape a trencher.
Pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable to
your bride.
I am old and heavy, or I should ere this have pre-
sented them in person. I shall make but small use of the old
man's privilege, that of giving advice to younger friends. Treat
your wife always with respect: it will procure respect to you, not
only from her, but from all that observe it. Never use a slight-
ing expression to her, even in jest; for slights in jest, after fre-
quent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earnest. Be studious
in your profession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and
frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you
will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy:
at least, you will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for
such consequences. I pray God to bless you both; being ever
your affectionate friend.
THE ART OF VIRTUE
From the Autobiography,' in Bigelow's Edition of Franklin's Works
WⓇ
WE HAVE an English proverb that says, "He that would thrive
must ask his wife. " It was lucky for me that I had one
as much disposed to industry and frugality as myself.
She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitching
pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for the paper-
makers, etc. , etc. We kept no idle servants; our table was plain
and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. For instance, my
breakfast was a long time bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it
## p. 5958 (#546) ###########################################
5958
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
But
out of a twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon.
mark how luxury will enter families, and make a progress, in
spite of principle: being called one morning to breakfast, I found
it in a china bowl, with a spoon of silver! They had been
bought for me without my knowledge by my wife, and had cost
her the enormous sum of three-and-twenty shillings, for which
she had no other excuse or apology to make but that she
thought her husband deserved a silver spoon and china bowl as
well as any of his neighbors. This was the first appearance of
plate and china in our house, which afterward, in a course of
years, as our wealth increased, augmented gradually to several
hundred pounds in value.
I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; and though
some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal de-
crees of God, election, reprobation, etc. , appeared to me unintelligi-
ble, others doubtful, and I early absented myself from the public
assemblies of the sect (Sunday being my studying day), I never
was without some religious principles. I never doubted, for in-
stance, the existence of the Deity; that he made the world, and
governed it by his Providence; that the most acceptable service
of God was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal;
and that all crime will be punished and virtue rewarded, either
here or hereafter. These I esteemed the essentials of every
religion; and being to be found in all the religions we had in
our country, I respected them all, though with different degrees
of respect, as I found them more or less mixed with other ar-
ticles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or con-
firm morality, served principally to divide us and make us
unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion
that the worst had some good effects, induced me to avoid all
discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion another
might have of his own religion; and as our province increased in
people, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and
generally erected by voluntary contribution, my mite for such
purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused.
Though I seldom attended any public worship, I had still an
opinion of its propriety, and of its utility when rightly conducted,
and I regularly paid my annual subscription for the support of
the only Presbyterian minister or meeting we had in Philadelphia.
He used to visit me sometimes as a friend, and admonish me
to attend his administrations; and I was now and then prevailed
## p. 5959 (#547) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5959
on to do so, once for five Sundays successively. Had he been in
my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might have continued,
notwithstanding the occasion I had for the Sunday's leisure in
my course of study; but his discourses were chiefly either polemic
arguments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines of our sect,
and were all to me very dry, uninteresting, and unedifying, since
not a single moral principle was inculcated or enforced; their
aim seeming to be rather to make us Presbyterians than good
citizens.
At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chap-
ter of Philippians, "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any
virtue or any praise, think on these things. " And I imagined, in
a sermon on such a text, we could not miss of having some
morality. But he confined himself to five points only, as meant
by the Apostle, viz. :- 1. Keeping holy the Sabbath day. 2.
Being diligent in reading the holy Scriptures. 3. Attending duly
the public worship. 4. Partaking of the Sacrament. 5. Paying a
due respect to God's ministers. —These might be all good things;
but as they were not the kind of good things that I expected
from that text, I despaired of ever meeting with them from any
other, was disgusted, and attended his preaching no more. I
had some years before composed a little liturgy, or form of
prayer, for my own private use (viz. , in 1728), entitled 'Articles
of Belief and Acts of Religion. ' I returned to the use of this,
and went no more to the public assemblies. My conduct might
be blamable, but I leave it, without attempting further to excuse
it; my present purpose being to relate facts, and not to make
apologies for them.
It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous pro-
ject of arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without
committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that
either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me
into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong,
I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the
other.
I made a little book in which I allotted a page for each of
the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink so as to have seven
columns, one for each day of the week, marking each column
with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns with thirteen
red lines, marking the beginning of each line with the first letter
## p. 5960 (#548) ###########################################
5960
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
of one of the virtues, on which line, and in its proper column, I
might mark, by a little black spot, every fault I found upon ex-
amination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon
that day.
And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought
it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it;
to this end I formed the following little prayer, which was pre-
fixed to my tables of examination, for daily use:
―
"O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! Increase
in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. Strengthen
my resolutions to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my
kind offices to thy other children as the only return in my power for
thy continual favors to me. "
I used also sometimes a little prayer which I took from Thom-
son's Poems, viz. :
―
"Father of light and life, thou Good supreme!
O teach me what is good; teach me thyself!
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit; and fill my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure;
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss! "
I entered upon the execution of this plan for self-examination,
and continued it with occasional intermissions for some time. I
was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had
imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish.
My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble; and I found
that though it might be practicable where a man's business was
such as to leave him the disposition of his time,- that of a jour-
neyman printer, for instance, it was not possible to be exactly
observed by a master, who must mix with the world, and often
receive people of business at their own hours. Order, too, with
regard to places for things, papers, etc. , I found extremely diffi-
cult to acquire. I had not been early accustomed to it; and hav-
ing an exceeding good memory, I was not so sensible of the
inconvenience attending want of method. This article, therefore,
cost me so much painful attention, and my faults in it vexed me
so much, and I made so little progress in amendment, and had
such frequent relapses, that I was almost ready to give up the
attempt, and content myself with a faulty character in that
## p. 5961 (#549) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5961
respect; like the man who in buying an axe of a smith, my
neighbor, desired to have the whole of its surface as bright as the
edge. The smith consented to grind it bright for him if he
would turn the wheel; he turned, while the smith pressed the
broad face of the axe hard and heavily on the stone, which made
the turning of it very fatiguing. The man came every now and
then from the wheel to see how the work went on, and at length
would take his axe as it was without farther grinding. "No,"
said the smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it bright by-
and-by; as yet, it is only speckled. " "Yes," says the man, "but
I think I like a speckled axe best. " And I believe this may have
been the case with many who, having for want of some such
means as I employed, found the difficulty of obtaining good and
breaking bad habits in other points of vice and virtue, have given
up the struggle and concluded that "a speckled axe was best":
for something that pretended to be reason was every now and
then suggesting to me that such extreme nicety as I exacted of
myself might be a kind of foppery in morals, which if it were
known would make me ridiculous; that a perfect character might
be attended with the inconvenience of being envied and hated;
and that a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself,
to keep his friends in countenance.
In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect to order;
and now I am grown old, and my memory bad, I feel very
sensibly the want of it. But on the whole, though I never
arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining,
but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and
a happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not
attempted it; as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating
the engraved copies, though they never reach the wished-for
excellence of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavor,
and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible.
It may be well my posterity should be informed that to this
little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor owed the
constant felicity of his life down to his 79th year, in which this
is written. What reverses may attend the remainder is in the
hand of Providence; but if they arrive, the reflection on past
happiness enjoyed ought to help his bearing them with more
resignation. To Temperance he ascribes his long-continued
health, and what is still left to him of a good constitution; to
Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of his circumstances
## p. 5962 (#550) ###########################################
5962
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
and acquisition of his fortune, with all that knowledge that
enabled him to be a useful citizen, and obtained for him some
degree of reputation among the learned; to Sincerity and Justice,
the confidence of his country, and the honorable employs it con-
ferred upon him; and to the joint influence of the whole mass of
the virtues, even in the imperfect state he was able to acquire
them, all that evenness of temper, and that cheerfulness in con-
versation, which makes his company still sought for, and agree-
able even to his younger acquaintance. I hope therefore that
some of my descendants may follow the example and reap the
benefit.
It will be remarked that though my scheme was not wholly
without religion, there was in it no mark of any of the distin-
guishing tenets of any particular sect. I had purposely avoided
them; for being fully persuaded of the utility and excellency of
my method, and that it might be serviceable to people in all
religions, and intending some time or other to publish it, I
would not have anything in it that should prejudice any one of
any sect against it.
In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce this
doctrine: that vicious actions are not hurtful because they are
forbidden, but forbidden because they are hurtful, the nature of
man alone considered; that it was therefore every one's interest
to be virtuous, who wished to be happy even in this world; and
I should from this circumstance (there being always in the world
a number of rich merchants, nobility, States, and princes who
have need of honest instruments for the management of their
affairs, and such being so rare) have endeavored to convince
young persons that no qualities were so likely to make a poor
man's fortune as those of probity and integrity.
My list of virtues contained at first but twelve: but a Quaker
friend having kindly informed me that I was generally thought
proud; that my pride showed itself frequently in conversation;
that I was not content with being in the right when discussing
any point, but was overbearing and rather insolent, of which he
convinced me by mentioning several instances; I determined
endeavoring to cure myself, if I could, of this vice or folly among
the rest, and I added Humility to my list, giving an extensive
meaning to the word.
I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality of this
virtue, but I had a good deal with regard to the appearance of
## p. 5963 (#551) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5963
it. I made it a rule. to forbear all direct contradiction to the
sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own. I
even forbid myself, agreeably to the old laws of our Junto, the
use of every word or expression in the language that imported a
fixed opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly, etc. , and I adopted,
instead of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to
be so or so; or it so appears to me at present. When another
asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the
pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immedi-
ately some absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I began
by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion
would be right, but in the present case there appeared or seemed
to me some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage of this
change in my manner; the conversations I engaged in went on
more pleasantly. The modest way in which I proposed my opin-
ions procured them a readier reception and less contradiction;
had less mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, and
I more easily prevailed with others to give up their mistakes and
join with me when I happened to be in the right.
And this mode, which I at first put on with some violence to
natural inclination, became at length so easy and so habitual to
me, that perhaps for these fifty years past no one has ever heard
a dogmatical expression escape me. And to this habit (after my
character of integrity) I think it principally owing that I had
early so much weight with my fellow-citizens when I proposed
new institutions, or alterations in the old, and so much influence
in public councils when I became a member; for I was but a
bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my
choice of words, hardly correct in language: and yet I generally
carried my points.
In reality, there is perhaps no one of our natural passions
so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it
down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive,
and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you will
see it perhaps often in this history; for even if I could conceive
that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of
my humility.
## p. 5964 (#552) ###########################################
5964
LOUIS HONORÉ FRECHETTE
(1839-)
BY MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN
OUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE, the best known of the French-Cana-
dian poets, was born near the forties, at Lévis, a suburb of
Quebec. He is patriotic; his genius is plainly that of New
France, while the form of it is of that older France which produced
the too exquisite sonnets of Voiture; and what counts greatly with
the Canadians, he has received the approbation of the Academy; he
is a personage in Paris, where he spends a great deal of time. From
'Nos Gens de Lettres' (Our Literary Workers: Montreal, 1873), we
learn that the father of M. Fréchette was a man of business, and
that he did not encourage his son's poetic tendencies to the detri-
ment of the practical side of his character.
Lévis has traditions which are part of that stirring French-Cana-
dian history now being made known to us by Mrs. Catherwood and
Gilbert Parker. And the great St. Lawrence spoke to him in
"All those nameless voices, which are
Beating at the heart. "
At the age of eight he began to write verses. He was told by his
careful father that poets never become rich; but he still continued to
make verses. He grew to be a philosopher as well as a poet, and a
little later became firmly of Horace's opinion, that a poet to be
happy does not need riches gained by work. His father, who no
doubt felt that a philosopher of this cult was not fit for the world,
sent him to the Seminary at Quebec. At the Seminary he continued
to write verses. The teachers there found merit in the verses. The
"nameless voices" still beat at his heart, though the desks of the
preparatory college had replaced the elms of the St. Lawrence. But
poets are so rare that even when one is caught young, his captors
doubt his species. The captors in this case determined to see
whether Pegasus could trot as well as gallop. "Transport yourself,
little Fréchette," they said, "to the Council of Clermont and be a
troubadour. " What is time to the poet?
He became a troubadour:
but this was not enough; his preceptors were still in doubt; they
locked him in a room and gave him as a subject the arrival of Mgr.
de Laval in Canada. An hour passed; the first sufferings of the
young poet having abated, he produced his verses. It was evident
I
## p. 5965 (#553) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5965
that Pegasus could acquire any pace. His talent was questioned no
more.
As he became older, Fréchette had dreams of becoming a man of
action, and began to learn telegraphy at Ogdensburg; but he found
the art too long and life too brief. He went back to the seminary
and contributed 'Mes Loisirs' (My Spare Hours) to the college paper.
From the seminary-the Petit Seminaire, of course,- he went to the
College of Ste. Anne, to Nicolet, and finally to Laval University,
"singing, and picking up such crumbs of knowledge as suited his
taste. »
In 1864 M. Fréchette was admitted to practice at the bar of
Quebec. He was a poet first and always; but just at this time he
was second a journalist, third a politician, and perhaps fourth a bar-
rister. He began to publish a paper, Le Journal de Lévis. It failed:
disgusted, he bade farewell to Canada, and began in Chicago the
publication of L'Observateur: it died in a day. He poured forth his
complaints in 'Voix d'un Exilé' (The Voice of an Exile). "Never,"
cries M. Darveau in 'Nos Gens de Lettres' (Our Literary Workers),
"did Juvenal scar the faces of the corrupt Romans as did Fréchette
lash the shoulders of our wretched politicians. ” His L'Amérique, a
journal started in Chicago, had some success, but it temporarily
ruined Fréchette, as the Swiss whom he had placed in charge of it
suddenly changed its policy, and made it sympathize with Germany
in the Franco-Prussian war.
Fréchette's early prose is fiery and eloquent; his admirers com-
pared it to that of Louis Veuillot and Junius, for the reason, proba-
bly, that he used it to denounce those whom he hated politically.
Fréchette's verse has the lyrical ring. And although M. Camille
Doucet insisted that the French Academy in crowning his poems
honored a Frenchman, it must be remembered that Fréchette is both
an American and a British subject; and these things, not likely to
disarm Academical conservatism, made the action the more significant
of the poet's value.
There is strong and noble passion in 'La Voix d'un Exilé' and in
the Ode to the Mississippi. ' His arraignment of the Canadian poli-
ticians may be forgotten without loss,-no doubt he has by this time
forgiven them,- but the real feeling of the poet, who finds in the
Mississippi the brother of his beloved St. Lawrence, is permanent:-
«Adieu, vallons ombreux, mes campagnes fleuries,
Mes montagnes d'azur et mes blondes prairies,
Mon fleuve harmonieux, mon beau ciel embaumé —
Dans les grandes cités, dans les bois, sur les grêves,
Ton image flottera dans mes rêves,
O mon Canada, bien aimé.
## p. 5966 (#554) ###########################################
5966
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
Je n'écouterai plus, dans nos forêts profondes,
Dans nos près verdoyants, et sur nos grandes ondes,
Toutes ces voix sans nom qui font battre le cœur. "
[Farewell, shaded valleys, my flowery meadows, my azure mountains and
my pale prairies, my musical stream, my fair sky! In the great towns, in
the wood, along the water-sides, thy scenes will float on in my dreams, O
Canada, my beloved!
I shall hear no more, in our deep forests, in our verdant meads and upon
our broad waters, all those nameless voices which make one's heart throb. ]
In 1865 the first book of poems which appealed to the world from
French Canada appeared. It was Fréchette's 'Mes Loisirs' (My Spare
Hours). Later came Pêle-Mêle' (Pell-Mell), full of fine cameo-like
poems, but like cameos that are flushed by an inner and vital fire.
Longfellow praised 'Pêle-Mêle': it shows the influence of Hugo and
Lamartine; it has the beauty of De Musset, with more freshness and
"bloom" than that poet of a glorious past possessed; but there are
more traces of Lamartine in 'Pêle-Mêle' than of Hugo.
"Fréchette's imagination," says an admiring countryman of his,
"is a chisel that attacks the soulless block; and with it he easily
forms a column or a flower. " His poems have grown stronger as he
has become more mature. There is a great gain in dramatic force,
so that it has surprised none of his readers that he should have at-
tempted tragedy with success. He lost some of that quality of dain-
tiness which distinguished Le Matin' (Morning), 'La Nuit' (Night),
and Fleurs Fanées' (Faded Flowers). The 'Pensées d'Hiver' (Win-
ter Reflections) had this quality, but 'La Dernière Iroquoise (The
Last Iroquois) rose above it, and like much of 'Les Fleurs Boréales'
(Boreal Flowers) and his latest work, it is powerful in spirit. yet
retains the greatest chastity of form.
M. Fréchette translated several of Shakespeare's plays for the
Théâtre Français. After 'Les Fleurs Boréales' was crowned by the
Academy, there appeared 'Les Oiseaux de Neige' (The Snow-Birds),
'Feuilles Volantes' (Leaves in the Wind), and 'La Forêt Vierge' (The
Virgin Forest). The volume which shows the genius of Fréchette at
its highest is undoubtedly 'La Légende d'un Peuple' (The Legend
of a Race), which has an admirable preface by Jules Claretie.
manni Francis Egan
## p. 5967 (#555) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5967
OUR HISTORY
Fragments from 'La Légende d'un Peuple': translated by Maurice Francis Egan
O
HISTORY of my country,-set with pearls unknown,-
With love I kiss thy pages venerated.
O register immortal, poem of dazzling light
Written by France in purest of her blood!
Drama ever acting, records full of pictures
Of high facts heroic, stories of romance,
Annals of the giants, archives where we follow,
As each leaf we turn, a life resplendent,
And find a name respected or a name beloved,
Of men and women of the antique time!
Where the hero of the past and the hero of the future
Give the hand of friendship and the kiss of love;
Where the crucifix and sword, the plowshare and the volume,—
Everything that builds and everything that saves,-
Shine, united, living glories of past time
And of time that is to be.
--
The glories of past time, serene and pure before you,
O virtues of our day!
Hail first to thee, O Cartier, brave and hardy sailor,
Whose footstep sounded on the unexplored shores
Of our immense St. Lawrence. Hail, Champlain,
Maisonneuve, illustrious founders of two cities,
Who show above our waves their rival beauties.
There was at first only a group of Bretons
Brandishing the sword-blade and the woodman's axe,
Sea-wolves bronzed by sea-winds at the port of St. Malo;
Cradled since their childhood beneath the sky and water,
Men of iron and high of heart and stature,
They, under eye of God, set sail for what might come.
Seeking, in the secrets of the foggy ocean,
Not the famous El Dorados, but a soil where they might plant,
As symbols of their saving, beside the cross of Christ,
The flag of France.
After them came blond-haired Normans
And black-eyed Pontevins, robust colonists,
To make the path a road, and for this holy work
To offer their strong arms: the motive was the same;
The dangers that they fronted brought out prodigies of
courage.
## p. 5968 (#556) ###########################################
5968
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
They seemed to know no dangers; or rather,
They seemed to seek the ruin that they did not meet.
Frightful perils vainly rose before them,
And each element against them vainly had conspired:
These children of the furrow founded an empire!
Then, conquering the waves of great and stormy lakes,
Crossing savannahs with marshes of mud,
Piercing the depths of the forests primeval,
Here see our founders and preachers of Faith!
Apostles of France, princes of our God,
Having said farewell to the noise of the world,
They came to the bounds of the New World immense
To sow the seed of the future,
And to bear, as the heralds of eternal law,
To the end of the world the torch of progress.
Leaning on his bow, ferociously calm,
The child of the forest, bitter at heart,
A hunted look mingling with his piercing glance,
Sees the strangers pass,— encamped on the plain or ambushed
in the woods,-
And thinks of the giant spirits he has seen in his dreams.
For the first time he trembles and fears-
Then casting off his deceitful calm,
He will rush forth, uttering his war-cry,
To defend, foot by foot, his soil so lately virgin,
And ferocious, tomahawk in hand, bar this road to civiliza-
tion!
A cowardly king, tool of a more cowardly court,
Satyr of the Parc aux cerfs, slave at the Trianon,
Plunged in the horrors of nameless debauches,
At the caprice of Pompadour dancing like an atom,—
The blood of his soldiers and the honor of his kingdom,
Of our dying heroes hearing he no voice.
Montcalm, alas! conquered for the first time,
Falling on the field of battle, wrapped in his banner.
Lévis, last fighter of the last fight,
Tears - avenging France and her pride! -
supreme triumph from fate.
That was all. In front of our tottering towers
The stranger planted his insolent colors,
And an old flag, wet with bitter tears,
Closed its white wings and went across the sea!
## p. 5969 (#557) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5969
Paraphrased by Maurice Francis Egan
WORLD in agony breathes its last sigh!
A
Gaze on the remnants of an ancient race,-
Great kings of desert terrible to face,
Crushed by the new weights that upon them lie;
Stand near the Falls, and at this storied place
You see a humble hamlet;-by-and-by
You'll talk of ambuscades and treacherous chase.
CAUGHNAWAGA
L^
Can history or sight a traitor be?
Where are the red men of the rolling plains?
Ferocious Iroquois,-ah, where is he? -
Without concealment (this for all our pains! )
The Chief sells groceries for paltry gains,
With English tang in speech of Normandy!
LOUISIANA
Paraphrased from Les Feuilles Volantes,' by Maurice Francis Egan
AND of the Sun! where Fancy free
Weaveth her woof beneath a sky of gold,
Another Andalusia, thee I see;
-
Thy charming memories my heart-strings hold,
As if the song of birds had o'er them rolled.
In thy fresh groves, where scented orange glows,
Circle vague loves about my longing heart;
Thy dark banana-trees, when soft wind flows,
In concert weird take up their sombre part,
As evening shadows, listening, float and dart.
'Neath thy green domes, where the lianas cling,
Show tropic flowers with wide-opened eyes,
With arteries afire till morn-birds sing;
More than old Werthier, in new love's surprise,
Stand on the threshold of thy Paradise.
Son of the North, I, of the realm of snows,-
Vision afar, but always still a power,-
In these soft nights and in the days of rose,
Dreaming I feel, e'en in the saddest hour,
Within my heart unclose a golden flower.
-
X-374
## p. 5970 (#558) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5970
THE DREAM OF LIFE
TO MY SON
Paraphrased from 'Les Feuilles Volantes,' by Maurice Francis Egan
T TWENTY years, a poet lone,
Α'
I, when the rosy season came,
Walked in the woodland, to make moan
For some fair dame;
And when the breezes brought to me
The lilac spent in fragrant stream,
I wove her infidelity
In love's young dream.
A lover of illusions, I!
Soon other dreams quite filled my heart,
And other loves as suddenly
Took old love's part.
One Glory, a deceitful fay,
Who flies before a man can stir,
Surprised my poor heart many a day,—
I dreamed of her!
But now that I have grown so old,
At lying things I grasp no more.
My poor deceived heart takes hold
Of other lore.
Another life before us glows,
Casts on all faithful souls its gleam:
Late, late, my heart its glory knows,—
Of it I dream!
## p. 5971 (#559) ###########################################
5971
HAROLD FREDERIC
(1856-)
M
R. FREDERIC was born in Utica, New York, August 19th, 1856.
He spent his boyhood in that neighborhood, and was edu-
cated in its schools. The rural Central New York of a half-
century ago was a region of rich farms, of conservative ideas, and of
strong indigenous types of character. These undoubtedly offered un-
conscious studies to the future novelist.
Like many of his guild he began writing on a newspaper, rising
by degrees from the position of reporter to that of editor. The drill
and discipline taught him to make the most
of time and opportunity, and he contrived
leisure enough to write two or three long
stories. Working at journalism in Utica,
Albany, and New York, in 1884 he became
chief foreign correspondent of the New
York Times, making his headquarters in
London, where he has since lived.
Mr. Frederic's reputation rests on journal-
istic correspondence of the higher class, and
on his novels, of which he has published six.
His stories are distinctively American. He
has caught up contrasting elements of lo-
cal life in the eastern part of the United
States, and grouped them with ingenuity
and power.
His first important story was 'Seth's Brother's Wife,'
originally appearing as a serial in Scribner's Magazine. Following
this came 'The Lawton Girl,' a study of rustic life; 'In the Valley,'
a semi-historical novel, turning on aspects of colonial times along the
Mohawk River; The Copperhead,' a tale of the Civil War; 'Mukena
and Other Stories,' graphic character sketches, displaying humor and
insight; The Damnation of Theron Ware,' the most serious and
carefully studied of his books; and March Hares,' a sketch of con-
temporary society.
HAROLD FREDERIC
A student of the life about him, possessing a dramatic sense and
a saving grace of humor, Mr. Frederic in his fiction is often photo-
graphic and minute in detail, while he does not forget the import-
ance of the mass which the detail is to explain or embellish. He
likes to deal with types of that mixed population peculiar to the
## p. 5972 (#560) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5972
farming valleys of Central New York,-German, Irish, and American,
- bringing out by contrast their marked social and individual traits.
Not a disciple of realism, his books are emphatically "human docu-
ments. "
There is always moreover a definite plot, often a dramatic de-
velopment. But it is the attrition of character against character
that really interests him. 'Seth's Brother's Wife' and 'The Lawton
Girl' leave a definite ethical intention. In the 'Damnation of Theron
Ware' is depicted the tragedy of a weak and crude character sud-
denly put in touch with a higher intellectual and emotional life,
which it is too meagre and too untrained to adopt, and through
which it suffers shipwreck. In 'In the Valley' the gayety and seri-
ousness of homely life stand out against a savage and martial back-
ground.
Mr. Frederic profoundly respects his art, is never careless, and
never unconscientious. Of his constructive instinct a distinguished
English critic has said that it "ignores nothing that is significant;
makes use of nothing that is not significant; and binds every ele-
ment of character and every incident together in a consistent, co-
herent, dramatic whole. "
THE LAST RITE
From The Damnation of Theron Ware. ' Copyright 1896, by Stone &
Kimball
ALKING homeward briskly now, with his eyes on the side-
W walk, and his mind all aglow with crowding suggestions
for the new work and impatience to be at it, Theron
Ware came abruptly upon a group of men and boys who occu-
pied the whole path, and were moving forward so noiselessly that
he had not heard them coming. He almost ran into the leader
of this little procession, and began a stammering apology, the
final words of which were left unspoken, so solemnly heedless of
him and his talk were all the faces he saw.
In the centre of the group were four workingmen, bearing be-
tween them an extemporized litter of two poles and a blanket
hastily secured across them with spikes. Most of what this litter
held was covered by another blanket, rounded in coarse folds
over a shapeless bulk. From beneath its farther end protruded
a big broom-like black beard, thrown upward at such an angle
as to hide everything beyond those in front.
The tall young
minister, stepping aside and standing tiptoe, could see sloping
## p. 5973 (#561) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5973
downward, behind this hedge of beard, a pinched and chalk-like
face, with wide-open, staring eyes. Its lips, of a dull lilac hue,
were moving ceaselessly, and made a dry, clicking sound.
Theron instinctively joined himself to those who followed the
litter, a motley dozen of street idlers, chiefly boys. One of
these in whispers explained to him that the man was one of Jerry
Madden's workmen in the wagon-shops, who had been deployed
to trim an elm-tree in front of his employer's house, and being
unused to such work, had fallen from the top and broken all
his bones. They would have cared for him at Madden's house,
but he insisted upon being taken home. His name was Mac-
Evoy, and he was Joey MacEvoy's father, and likewise Jim's
and Hughey's and Martin's. After a pause, the lad, a bright-
eyed, freckled, barefooted wee Irishman, volunteered the further
information that his big brother had run to bring
to bring Father
Forbess," on the chance that he might be in time to administer
"extry munction. "
«<
―――――
The way of the silent little procession led through back streets,
- where women hanging up clothes in the yards hurried to the
gates, their aprons full of clothes-pins, to stare open-mouthed at
the passers-by,- and came to a halt at last in an irregular and
muddy lane, before one of a half-dozen shanties reared among
the ash-heaps and débris of the town's most bedraggled outskirts.
A stout, middle-aged, red-armed woman, already warned by
some messenger of calamity, stood waiting on the roadside bank.
There were whimpering children clinging to her skirts, and a
surrounding cluster of women of the neighborhood; some of
the more elderly of whom, shriveled little crones in tidy caps,
and with their aprons to their eyes, were beginning in a low-
murmured minor the wail which presently should rise into the
keen of death. Mrs. MacEvoy herself made no moan, and her
broad ruddy face was stern in expression rather than sorrowful.
When the litter stopped beside her, she laid a hand for an instant
on her husband's wet brow, and looked- one could have sworn
impassively into his staring eyes. Then, still without a word,
she waved the bearers toward the door, and led the way herself.
Theron, somewhat wonderingly, found himself a minute later
inside a dark and ill-smelling room, the air of which was humid
with the steam from a boiler of clothes on the stove, and not in
other ways improved by the presence of a jostling score of
women, all straining their gaze upon the open door of the only
—
O
## p. 5973 (#562) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5972
farming valleys of Central New York,-C
- bringing out by contrast their mark
Not a disciple of realism, his boo¹-
ments. "
Mr. Fre
There is always moreover
velopment. But it is the
that really interests him.
Girl' leave a definite eth
Ware' is depicted the
denly put in touch
which it is too m
which it suffers
ousness of hom
ground.
never un
English
makes
men'
her
Lov
to
**C
this they could see
ed, and standing awk-
way of the wife and old
ove the garments from his
watched what could be seen of
d among themselves eulogies of
good temper, his habit of bring-
ife, and the way he kept his Father
ed to his religious duties. They ad-
light of his example, their own hus-
to be desired; and from this wandered
ic digressions of their own. But all the
bent upon the bedroom door; and Theron
had grown accustomed to the gloom and the
of them were telling their beads even while
muttered conversation alive. None of them paid
him, or seemed to regard his presence there as
Bibl
he saw enter through the sunlit street doorway a
different class. The bright light shone for a passing
you a fashionable, flowered hat, and upon some remark-
Presently
person of a
ably brilliant shade of red hair beneath it.
there had edged along through the throng, to almost within
touch of him,
a tall young woman, the owner of this hat and won-
In another moment
derful hair. She was clad in light and pleasing spring attire, and
carried a parasol with a long oxidized silver handle of a quaint
pattern.
She looked at him, and he saw that her face was of a
lengthened oval, with a luminous rose-tinted skin, full red lips,
and big brown, frank eyes with heavy auburn lashes. She made.
a grave little inclination of her head toward him, and he bowed
in response. Since her arrival, he noted, the chattering of the
others had entirely ceased.
"I followed the others in, in the hope that I might be of some
assistance," he ventured to explain to her in a low murmur, feel-
ing that at last here was some one to whom an explanation of
his presence in this Romish house was due. "I hope they won't
feel that I have intruded. "
She nodded her head as if she quite understood.
"They'll take the will for the deed," she whispered back.
"Father Forbes will be here in a minute. Do you know, is it
too late? »
## p. 5973 (#563) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5975
as she spoke, the outer doorway was darkened by the
? bulk of a new-comer's figure. The flash of a silk
deferential way in which the assembled neighbors
ar a passage, made his identity clear. Theron
tingle in an unaccustomed way as this priest of a
urch advanced across the room,-a broad-shouldered,
an of more than middle height, with a shapely, strong-
ace of almost waxen pallor, and a firm, commanding tread.
carried in his hands, besides his hat, a small leather-bound
use. To this and to him the women curtsied and bowed their
heads as he passed.
Come with me," whispered the tall girl with the parasol, to
Theron; and he found himself pushing along in her wake until
they intercepted the priest just outside the bedroom door. She
touched Father Forbes on the arm.
"Just to tell you that I am here," she said. The priest nodded
with a grave face, and passed into the other room. In a minute
or two the workmen, Mrs. MacEvoy, and her helper came out,
and the door was shut behind them.
"He is making his confession," explained the young lady.
"Stay here for a minute. "
She moved over to where the woman of the house stood,
glum-faced and tearless, and whispered something to her. A
confused movement among the crowd followed, and out of it
presently resulted a small table, covered with a white cloth, and
bearing on it two unlighted candles, a basin of water, and a
spoon, which was brought forward and placed in readiness before
the closed door. Some of those nearest this cleared space were
kneeling now, and murmuring a low buzz of prayer to the click
of beads on their rosaries.
The door opened, and Theron saw the priest standing in the
doorway with an uplifted hand. He wore now a surplice, with a
purple band over his shoulders, and on his pale face there shone
a tranquil and tender light.
One of the workmen fetched from the stove a brand, lighted
the two candles, and bore the table with its contents into the
bedroom. The young woman plucked Theron's sleeve, and he
dumbly followed her into the chamber of death, making one of
the group of a dozen, headed by Mrs. MacEvoy and her children,
which filled the little room, and overflowed now outward to the
street door. He found himself bowing with the others to receive
## p. 5974 (#564) ###########################################
5974
HAROLD FREDERIC
other apartment, the bedchamber. Through this they could see
the workmen laying MacEvoy on the bed, and standing awk-
wardly about thereafter, getting in the way of the wife and old
Maggie Quirk as they strove to remove the garments from his
crushed limbs. As the neighbors watched what could be seen of
these proceedings, they whispered among themselves eulogies of
the injured man's industry and good temper, his habit of bring-
ing his money home to his wife, and the way he kept his Father
Mathew pledge and attended to his religious duties. They ad-
mitted freely that by the light of his example, their own hus-
bands and sons left much to be desired; and from this wandered
easily off into domestic digressions of their own. But all the
while their eyes were bent upon the bedroom door; and Theron
made out, after he had grown accustomed to the gloom and the
smell, that many of them were telling their beads even while
they kept the muttered conversation alive. None of them paid
any attention to him, or seemed to regard his presence there as
unusual.
Presently he saw enter through the sunlit street doorway a
person of a different class. The bright light shone for a passing
instant upon a fashionable, flowered hat, and upon some remark-
ably brilliant shade of red hair beneath it. In another moment
there had edged along through the throng, to almost within
touch of him, a tall young woman, the owner of this hat and won-
derful hair. She was clad in light and pleasing spring attire, and
carried a parasol with a long oxidized silver handle of a quaint
pattern.
She looked at him, and he saw that her face was of a
lengthened oval, with a luminous rose-tinted skin, full red lips,
and big brown, frank eyes with heavy auburn lashes. She made
a grave little inclination of her head toward him, and he bowed
in response.
piness, which ought to be forgotten in order to be happy here.
For many years I could think of nothing but her, though at
length I am consoled. I have taken another wife, the most like
--
## p. 5953 (#541) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5953
her that I could find; she is not indeed altogether so handsome,
but she has a great fund of wit and good sense; and her whole
study is to please me. She is at this moment gone to fetch the
best nectar and ambrosia to regale me; stay here awhile and you
will see her. " "I perceive," said I, "that your former friend is
more faithful to you than you are to her; she has had several
good offers, but refused them all. I will confess to you that I
loved her extremely; but she was cruel to me, and rejected me
peremptorily for your sake. " "I pity you sincerely," said he,
"for she is an excellent woman, handsome and amiable. But do
not the Abbé de la Roche and the Abbé Morellet visit her? "
"Certainly they do; not one of your friends has dropped her ac-
quaintance. "—"If you had gained the Abbé Morellet with a
bribe of good coffee and cream, perhaps you would have suc-
ceeded: for he is as deep a reasoner as Duns Scotus or St.
Thomas: he arranges and methodizes his arguments in such a
manner that they are almost irresistible. Or if by a fine edition
of some old classic you had gained the Abbé de la Roche to
speak against you, that would have been still better; as I always
observed that when he recommended anything to her, she had a
great inclination to do directly the contrary. " As he finished
these words the new Madame Helvétius entered with the nectar,
and I recognized her immediately as my former American friend
Mrs. Franklin! I reclaimed her, but she answered me coldly:-
"I was a good wife to you for forty-nine years and four months,
-nearly half a century; let that content you. I have formed a
new connection here, which will last to eternity. "
Indignant at this refusal of my Eurydice, I immediately re-
solved to quit those ungrateful shades, and return to this good
world again, to behold the sun and you! Here I am: let us
avenge ourselves!
THE EPHEMERA; AN EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE
LETTER TO MADAME BRILLON OF PASSY, WRITTEN IN 1778
--
You
may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent
that happy day in the delightful garden and sweet society
of the Moulin Joly, I stopped a little in one of our walks,
and stayed some time behind the company. We had been shown
numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an ephemera,
X-373
## p. 5954 (#542) ###########################################
5954
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
whose successive generations, we were told, were bred and ex-
pired within the day. I happened to see a living company of
them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation.
You know I understand all the inferior animal tongues. My too
great application to the study of them is the best excuse I can
give for the little progress I have made in your charming lan-
guage. I listened through curiosity to the discourse of these
little creatures; but as they in their natural vivacity spoke three
or four together, I could make but little of their conversation.
I found however by some broken expressions that I heard now
and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two foreign
musicians, one a cousin, the other a moscheto; in which dispute
they spent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness
of life as if they had been sure of living a month. Happy peo-
ple! thought I; you are certainly under a wise, just, and mild
government, since you have no public grievances to complain of,
nor any subject of contention but the perfections and imperfec-
tions of foreign music. I turned my head from them to an old
gray-headed one, who was single on another leaf, and talking to
himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down in
writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so
much indebted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her
delicious company and heavenly harmony.
"It was," said he, "the opinion of learned philosophers of our
race who lived and flourished long before my time, that this
vast world, the Moulin Joly, could not itself subsist more than
eighteen hours; and I think there was some foundation for that
opinion, since by the apparent motion of the great luminary that
gives life to all nature, and which in my time has evidently de-
clined considerably towards the ocean at the end of our earth, it
must then finish its course, be extinguished in the waters that
surround us, and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessa-
rily producing universal death and destruction. I have lived
seven of those hours, a great age, being no less than four hun-
dred and twenty minutes of time. How very few of us continue
so long! I have seen generations born, flourish, and expire.
My present friends are the children and grandchildren of the
friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more! And I must
soon follow them; for by the course of nature, though still in
health, I cannot expect to live above seven or eight minutes
longer. What now avails all my toil and labor in amassing
## p. 5955 (#543) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5955
honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy? What the
political struggles I have been engaged in for the good of my
compatriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies
for the benefit of our race in general? for in politics, what can
laws do without morals? Our present race of ephemera will in
a course of minutes become corrupt, like those of other and
older bushes, and consequently as wretched. And in philosophy
how small our progress! Alas! art is long and life is short! My
friends would comfort me with the idea of a name they say I
shall leave behind me; and they tell me I have lived long enough
to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera
who no longer exists? and what will become of all history in
the eighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole Mou-
lin Joly, shall come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin ? »
To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now
remain but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well,
the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemeræ, and now
and then a kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Bril.
lante.
A PROPHECY
LETTER TO LORD KAMES, JANUARY 3D, 1760
N°
O ONE can more sincerely rejoice than I do, on the reduction
of Canada; and this is not merely as I am a colonist, but
as I am a Briton. I have long been of opinion that the
foundations of the future grandeur and stability of the British
empire lie in America; and though like other foundations they are
low and little now, they are nevertheless broad and strong enough
to support the greatest political structure that human wisdom.
ever yet erected. I am therefore by no means for restoring
Canada. If we keep it, all the country from the St. Lawrence to
the Mississippi will in another century be filled with British peo-
ple. Britain itself will become vastly more populous, by the
immense increase of its commerce; the Atlantic sea will be cov-
ered with your trading ships; and your naval power, thence con-
tinually increasing, will extend your influence round the whole
globe, and awe the world! If the French remain in Canada they
will continually harass our colonies by the Indians, and impede
if not prevent their growth; your progress to greatness will at
## p. 5956 (#544) ###########################################
5956
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
best be slow, and give room for many accidents that may forever
prevent it. But I refrain, for I see you begin to think my
notions extravagant, and look upon them as the ravings of a mad
prophet.
EARLY MARRIAGES
LETTER TO JOHN ALLEYNE, DATED CRAVEN STREET, AUGUST 9TH, 1768
You
ou desire, you say, my impartial thoughts on the subject of
an ea marriage, way of answer to the numberless
objections that have been made by numerous persons to
your own. You may remember, when you consulted me on the
occasion, that I thought youth on both sides to be no objection.
Indeed, from the marriages that have fallen under my observa-
tion, I am rather inclined to think that early ones stand the best
chance of happiness. The temper and habits of the young are
not become so stiff and uncomplying as when more advanced in
life; they form more easily to each othe and hence many occa-
sions of disgust are removed. And if youth has less of that pru-
dence which is necessary to manage a family, yet the parents and
elder friends of young married persons are generally at hand to
afford their advice, which amply supplies that defect; and by
early marriage, youth is sooner formed to regular and useful life;
and possibly some of those accidents or connections that might
have injured the constitution or reputation, or both, are thereby
happily prevented.
Particular circumstances of particular persons may possibly
sometimes make it prudent to delay entering into that state; but
in general, when nature has rendered our bodies fit for it, the pre-
sumption is in nature's favor, that she has not judged amiss in
making us desire it. Late marriages are often attended, too, with
this further inconvenience: that there is not the same chance
that the parents will live to see their offspring educated. "Late
children," says the Spanish proberb, "are early orphans. " A mel-
ancholy reflection to those whose case it may be! With us in
America, marriages are generally in the morning of life; our
children are therefore educated and settled in the world by noon:
and thus, our business being done, we have an afternoon and
evening of cheerful leisure to ourselves; such as our friend at
present enjoys. By these early marriages we are blessed with
## p. 5957 (#545) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5957
more children; and from the mode among us, founded by nature,
every mother suckling and nursing her own child, more of them
are raised.
Thence the swift progress of population among us,
unparalleled in Europe.
In fine, I am glad you are married, and congratulate you most
cordially upon it. You are now in the way of becoming a useful
citizen; and you have escaped the unnatural state of celibacy for
life, the fate of many here who never intended it, but who, having
too long postponed the change of their condition, find at length
that it is too late to think of it, and so live all their lives in a
situation that greatly lessens a man's value. An odd volume of
a set of books bears not the value of its proportion to the set.
What think you of the odd half of a pair of scissors? It cannot
well cut anything; it may possibly serve to scrape a trencher.
Pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable to
your bride.
I am old and heavy, or I should ere this have pre-
sented them in person. I shall make but small use of the old
man's privilege, that of giving advice to younger friends. Treat
your wife always with respect: it will procure respect to you, not
only from her, but from all that observe it. Never use a slight-
ing expression to her, even in jest; for slights in jest, after fre-
quent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earnest. Be studious
in your profession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and
frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you
will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy:
at least, you will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for
such consequences. I pray God to bless you both; being ever
your affectionate friend.
THE ART OF VIRTUE
From the Autobiography,' in Bigelow's Edition of Franklin's Works
WⓇ
WE HAVE an English proverb that says, "He that would thrive
must ask his wife. " It was lucky for me that I had one
as much disposed to industry and frugality as myself.
She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitching
pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for the paper-
makers, etc. , etc. We kept no idle servants; our table was plain
and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. For instance, my
breakfast was a long time bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it
## p. 5958 (#546) ###########################################
5958
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
But
out of a twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon.
mark how luxury will enter families, and make a progress, in
spite of principle: being called one morning to breakfast, I found
it in a china bowl, with a spoon of silver! They had been
bought for me without my knowledge by my wife, and had cost
her the enormous sum of three-and-twenty shillings, for which
she had no other excuse or apology to make but that she
thought her husband deserved a silver spoon and china bowl as
well as any of his neighbors. This was the first appearance of
plate and china in our house, which afterward, in a course of
years, as our wealth increased, augmented gradually to several
hundred pounds in value.
I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; and though
some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal de-
crees of God, election, reprobation, etc. , appeared to me unintelligi-
ble, others doubtful, and I early absented myself from the public
assemblies of the sect (Sunday being my studying day), I never
was without some religious principles. I never doubted, for in-
stance, the existence of the Deity; that he made the world, and
governed it by his Providence; that the most acceptable service
of God was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal;
and that all crime will be punished and virtue rewarded, either
here or hereafter. These I esteemed the essentials of every
religion; and being to be found in all the religions we had in
our country, I respected them all, though with different degrees
of respect, as I found them more or less mixed with other ar-
ticles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or con-
firm morality, served principally to divide us and make us
unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion
that the worst had some good effects, induced me to avoid all
discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion another
might have of his own religion; and as our province increased in
people, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and
generally erected by voluntary contribution, my mite for such
purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused.
Though I seldom attended any public worship, I had still an
opinion of its propriety, and of its utility when rightly conducted,
and I regularly paid my annual subscription for the support of
the only Presbyterian minister or meeting we had in Philadelphia.
He used to visit me sometimes as a friend, and admonish me
to attend his administrations; and I was now and then prevailed
## p. 5959 (#547) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5959
on to do so, once for five Sundays successively. Had he been in
my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might have continued,
notwithstanding the occasion I had for the Sunday's leisure in
my course of study; but his discourses were chiefly either polemic
arguments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines of our sect,
and were all to me very dry, uninteresting, and unedifying, since
not a single moral principle was inculcated or enforced; their
aim seeming to be rather to make us Presbyterians than good
citizens.
At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chap-
ter of Philippians, "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any
virtue or any praise, think on these things. " And I imagined, in
a sermon on such a text, we could not miss of having some
morality. But he confined himself to five points only, as meant
by the Apostle, viz. :- 1. Keeping holy the Sabbath day. 2.
Being diligent in reading the holy Scriptures. 3. Attending duly
the public worship. 4. Partaking of the Sacrament. 5. Paying a
due respect to God's ministers. —These might be all good things;
but as they were not the kind of good things that I expected
from that text, I despaired of ever meeting with them from any
other, was disgusted, and attended his preaching no more. I
had some years before composed a little liturgy, or form of
prayer, for my own private use (viz. , in 1728), entitled 'Articles
of Belief and Acts of Religion. ' I returned to the use of this,
and went no more to the public assemblies. My conduct might
be blamable, but I leave it, without attempting further to excuse
it; my present purpose being to relate facts, and not to make
apologies for them.
It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous pro-
ject of arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without
committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that
either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me
into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong,
I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the
other.
I made a little book in which I allotted a page for each of
the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink so as to have seven
columns, one for each day of the week, marking each column
with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns with thirteen
red lines, marking the beginning of each line with the first letter
## p. 5960 (#548) ###########################################
5960
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
of one of the virtues, on which line, and in its proper column, I
might mark, by a little black spot, every fault I found upon ex-
amination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon
that day.
And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought
it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it;
to this end I formed the following little prayer, which was pre-
fixed to my tables of examination, for daily use:
―
"O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! Increase
in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. Strengthen
my resolutions to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my
kind offices to thy other children as the only return in my power for
thy continual favors to me. "
I used also sometimes a little prayer which I took from Thom-
son's Poems, viz. :
―
"Father of light and life, thou Good supreme!
O teach me what is good; teach me thyself!
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit; and fill my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure;
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss! "
I entered upon the execution of this plan for self-examination,
and continued it with occasional intermissions for some time. I
was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had
imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish.
My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble; and I found
that though it might be practicable where a man's business was
such as to leave him the disposition of his time,- that of a jour-
neyman printer, for instance, it was not possible to be exactly
observed by a master, who must mix with the world, and often
receive people of business at their own hours. Order, too, with
regard to places for things, papers, etc. , I found extremely diffi-
cult to acquire. I had not been early accustomed to it; and hav-
ing an exceeding good memory, I was not so sensible of the
inconvenience attending want of method. This article, therefore,
cost me so much painful attention, and my faults in it vexed me
so much, and I made so little progress in amendment, and had
such frequent relapses, that I was almost ready to give up the
attempt, and content myself with a faulty character in that
## p. 5961 (#549) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5961
respect; like the man who in buying an axe of a smith, my
neighbor, desired to have the whole of its surface as bright as the
edge. The smith consented to grind it bright for him if he
would turn the wheel; he turned, while the smith pressed the
broad face of the axe hard and heavily on the stone, which made
the turning of it very fatiguing. The man came every now and
then from the wheel to see how the work went on, and at length
would take his axe as it was without farther grinding. "No,"
said the smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it bright by-
and-by; as yet, it is only speckled. " "Yes," says the man, "but
I think I like a speckled axe best. " And I believe this may have
been the case with many who, having for want of some such
means as I employed, found the difficulty of obtaining good and
breaking bad habits in other points of vice and virtue, have given
up the struggle and concluded that "a speckled axe was best":
for something that pretended to be reason was every now and
then suggesting to me that such extreme nicety as I exacted of
myself might be a kind of foppery in morals, which if it were
known would make me ridiculous; that a perfect character might
be attended with the inconvenience of being envied and hated;
and that a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself,
to keep his friends in countenance.
In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect to order;
and now I am grown old, and my memory bad, I feel very
sensibly the want of it. But on the whole, though I never
arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining,
but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and
a happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not
attempted it; as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating
the engraved copies, though they never reach the wished-for
excellence of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavor,
and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible.
It may be well my posterity should be informed that to this
little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor owed the
constant felicity of his life down to his 79th year, in which this
is written. What reverses may attend the remainder is in the
hand of Providence; but if they arrive, the reflection on past
happiness enjoyed ought to help his bearing them with more
resignation. To Temperance he ascribes his long-continued
health, and what is still left to him of a good constitution; to
Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of his circumstances
## p. 5962 (#550) ###########################################
5962
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
and acquisition of his fortune, with all that knowledge that
enabled him to be a useful citizen, and obtained for him some
degree of reputation among the learned; to Sincerity and Justice,
the confidence of his country, and the honorable employs it con-
ferred upon him; and to the joint influence of the whole mass of
the virtues, even in the imperfect state he was able to acquire
them, all that evenness of temper, and that cheerfulness in con-
versation, which makes his company still sought for, and agree-
able even to his younger acquaintance. I hope therefore that
some of my descendants may follow the example and reap the
benefit.
It will be remarked that though my scheme was not wholly
without religion, there was in it no mark of any of the distin-
guishing tenets of any particular sect. I had purposely avoided
them; for being fully persuaded of the utility and excellency of
my method, and that it might be serviceable to people in all
religions, and intending some time or other to publish it, I
would not have anything in it that should prejudice any one of
any sect against it.
In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce this
doctrine: that vicious actions are not hurtful because they are
forbidden, but forbidden because they are hurtful, the nature of
man alone considered; that it was therefore every one's interest
to be virtuous, who wished to be happy even in this world; and
I should from this circumstance (there being always in the world
a number of rich merchants, nobility, States, and princes who
have need of honest instruments for the management of their
affairs, and such being so rare) have endeavored to convince
young persons that no qualities were so likely to make a poor
man's fortune as those of probity and integrity.
My list of virtues contained at first but twelve: but a Quaker
friend having kindly informed me that I was generally thought
proud; that my pride showed itself frequently in conversation;
that I was not content with being in the right when discussing
any point, but was overbearing and rather insolent, of which he
convinced me by mentioning several instances; I determined
endeavoring to cure myself, if I could, of this vice or folly among
the rest, and I added Humility to my list, giving an extensive
meaning to the word.
I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality of this
virtue, but I had a good deal with regard to the appearance of
## p. 5963 (#551) ###########################################
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
5963
it. I made it a rule. to forbear all direct contradiction to the
sentiments of others, and all positive assertion of my own. I
even forbid myself, agreeably to the old laws of our Junto, the
use of every word or expression in the language that imported a
fixed opinion, such as certainly, undoubtedly, etc. , and I adopted,
instead of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to
be so or so; or it so appears to me at present. When another
asserted something that I thought an error, I denied myself the
pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immedi-
ately some absurdity in his proposition; and in answering I began
by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion
would be right, but in the present case there appeared or seemed
to me some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage of this
change in my manner; the conversations I engaged in went on
more pleasantly. The modest way in which I proposed my opin-
ions procured them a readier reception and less contradiction;
had less mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, and
I more easily prevailed with others to give up their mistakes and
join with me when I happened to be in the right.
And this mode, which I at first put on with some violence to
natural inclination, became at length so easy and so habitual to
me, that perhaps for these fifty years past no one has ever heard
a dogmatical expression escape me. And to this habit (after my
character of integrity) I think it principally owing that I had
early so much weight with my fellow-citizens when I proposed
new institutions, or alterations in the old, and so much influence
in public councils when I became a member; for I was but a
bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my
choice of words, hardly correct in language: and yet I generally
carried my points.
In reality, there is perhaps no one of our natural passions
so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it
down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive,
and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you will
see it perhaps often in this history; for even if I could conceive
that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of
my humility.
## p. 5964 (#552) ###########################################
5964
LOUIS HONORÉ FRECHETTE
(1839-)
BY MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN
OUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE, the best known of the French-Cana-
dian poets, was born near the forties, at Lévis, a suburb of
Quebec. He is patriotic; his genius is plainly that of New
France, while the form of it is of that older France which produced
the too exquisite sonnets of Voiture; and what counts greatly with
the Canadians, he has received the approbation of the Academy; he
is a personage in Paris, where he spends a great deal of time. From
'Nos Gens de Lettres' (Our Literary Workers: Montreal, 1873), we
learn that the father of M. Fréchette was a man of business, and
that he did not encourage his son's poetic tendencies to the detri-
ment of the practical side of his character.
Lévis has traditions which are part of that stirring French-Cana-
dian history now being made known to us by Mrs. Catherwood and
Gilbert Parker. And the great St. Lawrence spoke to him in
"All those nameless voices, which are
Beating at the heart. "
At the age of eight he began to write verses. He was told by his
careful father that poets never become rich; but he still continued to
make verses. He grew to be a philosopher as well as a poet, and a
little later became firmly of Horace's opinion, that a poet to be
happy does not need riches gained by work. His father, who no
doubt felt that a philosopher of this cult was not fit for the world,
sent him to the Seminary at Quebec. At the Seminary he continued
to write verses. The teachers there found merit in the verses. The
"nameless voices" still beat at his heart, though the desks of the
preparatory college had replaced the elms of the St. Lawrence. But
poets are so rare that even when one is caught young, his captors
doubt his species. The captors in this case determined to see
whether Pegasus could trot as well as gallop. "Transport yourself,
little Fréchette," they said, "to the Council of Clermont and be a
troubadour. " What is time to the poet?
He became a troubadour:
but this was not enough; his preceptors were still in doubt; they
locked him in a room and gave him as a subject the arrival of Mgr.
de Laval in Canada. An hour passed; the first sufferings of the
young poet having abated, he produced his verses. It was evident
I
## p. 5965 (#553) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5965
that Pegasus could acquire any pace. His talent was questioned no
more.
As he became older, Fréchette had dreams of becoming a man of
action, and began to learn telegraphy at Ogdensburg; but he found
the art too long and life too brief. He went back to the seminary
and contributed 'Mes Loisirs' (My Spare Hours) to the college paper.
From the seminary-the Petit Seminaire, of course,- he went to the
College of Ste. Anne, to Nicolet, and finally to Laval University,
"singing, and picking up such crumbs of knowledge as suited his
taste. »
In 1864 M. Fréchette was admitted to practice at the bar of
Quebec. He was a poet first and always; but just at this time he
was second a journalist, third a politician, and perhaps fourth a bar-
rister. He began to publish a paper, Le Journal de Lévis. It failed:
disgusted, he bade farewell to Canada, and began in Chicago the
publication of L'Observateur: it died in a day. He poured forth his
complaints in 'Voix d'un Exilé' (The Voice of an Exile). "Never,"
cries M. Darveau in 'Nos Gens de Lettres' (Our Literary Workers),
"did Juvenal scar the faces of the corrupt Romans as did Fréchette
lash the shoulders of our wretched politicians. ” His L'Amérique, a
journal started in Chicago, had some success, but it temporarily
ruined Fréchette, as the Swiss whom he had placed in charge of it
suddenly changed its policy, and made it sympathize with Germany
in the Franco-Prussian war.
Fréchette's early prose is fiery and eloquent; his admirers com-
pared it to that of Louis Veuillot and Junius, for the reason, proba-
bly, that he used it to denounce those whom he hated politically.
Fréchette's verse has the lyrical ring. And although M. Camille
Doucet insisted that the French Academy in crowning his poems
honored a Frenchman, it must be remembered that Fréchette is both
an American and a British subject; and these things, not likely to
disarm Academical conservatism, made the action the more significant
of the poet's value.
There is strong and noble passion in 'La Voix d'un Exilé' and in
the Ode to the Mississippi. ' His arraignment of the Canadian poli-
ticians may be forgotten without loss,-no doubt he has by this time
forgiven them,- but the real feeling of the poet, who finds in the
Mississippi the brother of his beloved St. Lawrence, is permanent:-
«Adieu, vallons ombreux, mes campagnes fleuries,
Mes montagnes d'azur et mes blondes prairies,
Mon fleuve harmonieux, mon beau ciel embaumé —
Dans les grandes cités, dans les bois, sur les grêves,
Ton image flottera dans mes rêves,
O mon Canada, bien aimé.
## p. 5966 (#554) ###########################################
5966
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
Je n'écouterai plus, dans nos forêts profondes,
Dans nos près verdoyants, et sur nos grandes ondes,
Toutes ces voix sans nom qui font battre le cœur. "
[Farewell, shaded valleys, my flowery meadows, my azure mountains and
my pale prairies, my musical stream, my fair sky! In the great towns, in
the wood, along the water-sides, thy scenes will float on in my dreams, O
Canada, my beloved!
I shall hear no more, in our deep forests, in our verdant meads and upon
our broad waters, all those nameless voices which make one's heart throb. ]
In 1865 the first book of poems which appealed to the world from
French Canada appeared. It was Fréchette's 'Mes Loisirs' (My Spare
Hours). Later came Pêle-Mêle' (Pell-Mell), full of fine cameo-like
poems, but like cameos that are flushed by an inner and vital fire.
Longfellow praised 'Pêle-Mêle': it shows the influence of Hugo and
Lamartine; it has the beauty of De Musset, with more freshness and
"bloom" than that poet of a glorious past possessed; but there are
more traces of Lamartine in 'Pêle-Mêle' than of Hugo.
"Fréchette's imagination," says an admiring countryman of his,
"is a chisel that attacks the soulless block; and with it he easily
forms a column or a flower. " His poems have grown stronger as he
has become more mature. There is a great gain in dramatic force,
so that it has surprised none of his readers that he should have at-
tempted tragedy with success. He lost some of that quality of dain-
tiness which distinguished Le Matin' (Morning), 'La Nuit' (Night),
and Fleurs Fanées' (Faded Flowers). The 'Pensées d'Hiver' (Win-
ter Reflections) had this quality, but 'La Dernière Iroquoise (The
Last Iroquois) rose above it, and like much of 'Les Fleurs Boréales'
(Boreal Flowers) and his latest work, it is powerful in spirit. yet
retains the greatest chastity of form.
M. Fréchette translated several of Shakespeare's plays for the
Théâtre Français. After 'Les Fleurs Boréales' was crowned by the
Academy, there appeared 'Les Oiseaux de Neige' (The Snow-Birds),
'Feuilles Volantes' (Leaves in the Wind), and 'La Forêt Vierge' (The
Virgin Forest). The volume which shows the genius of Fréchette at
its highest is undoubtedly 'La Légende d'un Peuple' (The Legend
of a Race), which has an admirable preface by Jules Claretie.
manni Francis Egan
## p. 5967 (#555) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5967
OUR HISTORY
Fragments from 'La Légende d'un Peuple': translated by Maurice Francis Egan
O
HISTORY of my country,-set with pearls unknown,-
With love I kiss thy pages venerated.
O register immortal, poem of dazzling light
Written by France in purest of her blood!
Drama ever acting, records full of pictures
Of high facts heroic, stories of romance,
Annals of the giants, archives where we follow,
As each leaf we turn, a life resplendent,
And find a name respected or a name beloved,
Of men and women of the antique time!
Where the hero of the past and the hero of the future
Give the hand of friendship and the kiss of love;
Where the crucifix and sword, the plowshare and the volume,—
Everything that builds and everything that saves,-
Shine, united, living glories of past time
And of time that is to be.
--
The glories of past time, serene and pure before you,
O virtues of our day!
Hail first to thee, O Cartier, brave and hardy sailor,
Whose footstep sounded on the unexplored shores
Of our immense St. Lawrence. Hail, Champlain,
Maisonneuve, illustrious founders of two cities,
Who show above our waves their rival beauties.
There was at first only a group of Bretons
Brandishing the sword-blade and the woodman's axe,
Sea-wolves bronzed by sea-winds at the port of St. Malo;
Cradled since their childhood beneath the sky and water,
Men of iron and high of heart and stature,
They, under eye of God, set sail for what might come.
Seeking, in the secrets of the foggy ocean,
Not the famous El Dorados, but a soil where they might plant,
As symbols of their saving, beside the cross of Christ,
The flag of France.
After them came blond-haired Normans
And black-eyed Pontevins, robust colonists,
To make the path a road, and for this holy work
To offer their strong arms: the motive was the same;
The dangers that they fronted brought out prodigies of
courage.
## p. 5968 (#556) ###########################################
5968
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
They seemed to know no dangers; or rather,
They seemed to seek the ruin that they did not meet.
Frightful perils vainly rose before them,
And each element against them vainly had conspired:
These children of the furrow founded an empire!
Then, conquering the waves of great and stormy lakes,
Crossing savannahs with marshes of mud,
Piercing the depths of the forests primeval,
Here see our founders and preachers of Faith!
Apostles of France, princes of our God,
Having said farewell to the noise of the world,
They came to the bounds of the New World immense
To sow the seed of the future,
And to bear, as the heralds of eternal law,
To the end of the world the torch of progress.
Leaning on his bow, ferociously calm,
The child of the forest, bitter at heart,
A hunted look mingling with his piercing glance,
Sees the strangers pass,— encamped on the plain or ambushed
in the woods,-
And thinks of the giant spirits he has seen in his dreams.
For the first time he trembles and fears-
Then casting off his deceitful calm,
He will rush forth, uttering his war-cry,
To defend, foot by foot, his soil so lately virgin,
And ferocious, tomahawk in hand, bar this road to civiliza-
tion!
A cowardly king, tool of a more cowardly court,
Satyr of the Parc aux cerfs, slave at the Trianon,
Plunged in the horrors of nameless debauches,
At the caprice of Pompadour dancing like an atom,—
The blood of his soldiers and the honor of his kingdom,
Of our dying heroes hearing he no voice.
Montcalm, alas! conquered for the first time,
Falling on the field of battle, wrapped in his banner.
Lévis, last fighter of the last fight,
Tears - avenging France and her pride! -
supreme triumph from fate.
That was all. In front of our tottering towers
The stranger planted his insolent colors,
And an old flag, wet with bitter tears,
Closed its white wings and went across the sea!
## p. 5969 (#557) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5969
Paraphrased by Maurice Francis Egan
WORLD in agony breathes its last sigh!
A
Gaze on the remnants of an ancient race,-
Great kings of desert terrible to face,
Crushed by the new weights that upon them lie;
Stand near the Falls, and at this storied place
You see a humble hamlet;-by-and-by
You'll talk of ambuscades and treacherous chase.
CAUGHNAWAGA
L^
Can history or sight a traitor be?
Where are the red men of the rolling plains?
Ferocious Iroquois,-ah, where is he? -
Without concealment (this for all our pains! )
The Chief sells groceries for paltry gains,
With English tang in speech of Normandy!
LOUISIANA
Paraphrased from Les Feuilles Volantes,' by Maurice Francis Egan
AND of the Sun! where Fancy free
Weaveth her woof beneath a sky of gold,
Another Andalusia, thee I see;
-
Thy charming memories my heart-strings hold,
As if the song of birds had o'er them rolled.
In thy fresh groves, where scented orange glows,
Circle vague loves about my longing heart;
Thy dark banana-trees, when soft wind flows,
In concert weird take up their sombre part,
As evening shadows, listening, float and dart.
'Neath thy green domes, where the lianas cling,
Show tropic flowers with wide-opened eyes,
With arteries afire till morn-birds sing;
More than old Werthier, in new love's surprise,
Stand on the threshold of thy Paradise.
Son of the North, I, of the realm of snows,-
Vision afar, but always still a power,-
In these soft nights and in the days of rose,
Dreaming I feel, e'en in the saddest hour,
Within my heart unclose a golden flower.
-
X-374
## p. 5970 (#558) ###########################################
LOUIS HONORÉ FRÉCHETTE
5970
THE DREAM OF LIFE
TO MY SON
Paraphrased from 'Les Feuilles Volantes,' by Maurice Francis Egan
T TWENTY years, a poet lone,
Α'
I, when the rosy season came,
Walked in the woodland, to make moan
For some fair dame;
And when the breezes brought to me
The lilac spent in fragrant stream,
I wove her infidelity
In love's young dream.
A lover of illusions, I!
Soon other dreams quite filled my heart,
And other loves as suddenly
Took old love's part.
One Glory, a deceitful fay,
Who flies before a man can stir,
Surprised my poor heart many a day,—
I dreamed of her!
But now that I have grown so old,
At lying things I grasp no more.
My poor deceived heart takes hold
Of other lore.
Another life before us glows,
Casts on all faithful souls its gleam:
Late, late, my heart its glory knows,—
Of it I dream!
## p. 5971 (#559) ###########################################
5971
HAROLD FREDERIC
(1856-)
M
R. FREDERIC was born in Utica, New York, August 19th, 1856.
He spent his boyhood in that neighborhood, and was edu-
cated in its schools. The rural Central New York of a half-
century ago was a region of rich farms, of conservative ideas, and of
strong indigenous types of character. These undoubtedly offered un-
conscious studies to the future novelist.
Like many of his guild he began writing on a newspaper, rising
by degrees from the position of reporter to that of editor. The drill
and discipline taught him to make the most
of time and opportunity, and he contrived
leisure enough to write two or three long
stories. Working at journalism in Utica,
Albany, and New York, in 1884 he became
chief foreign correspondent of the New
York Times, making his headquarters in
London, where he has since lived.
Mr. Frederic's reputation rests on journal-
istic correspondence of the higher class, and
on his novels, of which he has published six.
His stories are distinctively American. He
has caught up contrasting elements of lo-
cal life in the eastern part of the United
States, and grouped them with ingenuity
and power.
His first important story was 'Seth's Brother's Wife,'
originally appearing as a serial in Scribner's Magazine. Following
this came 'The Lawton Girl,' a study of rustic life; 'In the Valley,'
a semi-historical novel, turning on aspects of colonial times along the
Mohawk River; The Copperhead,' a tale of the Civil War; 'Mukena
and Other Stories,' graphic character sketches, displaying humor and
insight; The Damnation of Theron Ware,' the most serious and
carefully studied of his books; and March Hares,' a sketch of con-
temporary society.
HAROLD FREDERIC
A student of the life about him, possessing a dramatic sense and
a saving grace of humor, Mr. Frederic in his fiction is often photo-
graphic and minute in detail, while he does not forget the import-
ance of the mass which the detail is to explain or embellish. He
likes to deal with types of that mixed population peculiar to the
## p. 5972 (#560) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5972
farming valleys of Central New York,-German, Irish, and American,
- bringing out by contrast their marked social and individual traits.
Not a disciple of realism, his books are emphatically "human docu-
ments. "
There is always moreover a definite plot, often a dramatic de-
velopment. But it is the attrition of character against character
that really interests him. 'Seth's Brother's Wife' and 'The Lawton
Girl' leave a definite ethical intention. In the 'Damnation of Theron
Ware' is depicted the tragedy of a weak and crude character sud-
denly put in touch with a higher intellectual and emotional life,
which it is too meagre and too untrained to adopt, and through
which it suffers shipwreck. In 'In the Valley' the gayety and seri-
ousness of homely life stand out against a savage and martial back-
ground.
Mr. Frederic profoundly respects his art, is never careless, and
never unconscientious. Of his constructive instinct a distinguished
English critic has said that it "ignores nothing that is significant;
makes use of nothing that is not significant; and binds every ele-
ment of character and every incident together in a consistent, co-
herent, dramatic whole. "
THE LAST RITE
From The Damnation of Theron Ware. ' Copyright 1896, by Stone &
Kimball
ALKING homeward briskly now, with his eyes on the side-
W walk, and his mind all aglow with crowding suggestions
for the new work and impatience to be at it, Theron
Ware came abruptly upon a group of men and boys who occu-
pied the whole path, and were moving forward so noiselessly that
he had not heard them coming. He almost ran into the leader
of this little procession, and began a stammering apology, the
final words of which were left unspoken, so solemnly heedless of
him and his talk were all the faces he saw.
In the centre of the group were four workingmen, bearing be-
tween them an extemporized litter of two poles and a blanket
hastily secured across them with spikes. Most of what this litter
held was covered by another blanket, rounded in coarse folds
over a shapeless bulk. From beneath its farther end protruded
a big broom-like black beard, thrown upward at such an angle
as to hide everything beyond those in front.
The tall young
minister, stepping aside and standing tiptoe, could see sloping
## p. 5973 (#561) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5973
downward, behind this hedge of beard, a pinched and chalk-like
face, with wide-open, staring eyes. Its lips, of a dull lilac hue,
were moving ceaselessly, and made a dry, clicking sound.
Theron instinctively joined himself to those who followed the
litter, a motley dozen of street idlers, chiefly boys. One of
these in whispers explained to him that the man was one of Jerry
Madden's workmen in the wagon-shops, who had been deployed
to trim an elm-tree in front of his employer's house, and being
unused to such work, had fallen from the top and broken all
his bones. They would have cared for him at Madden's house,
but he insisted upon being taken home. His name was Mac-
Evoy, and he was Joey MacEvoy's father, and likewise Jim's
and Hughey's and Martin's. After a pause, the lad, a bright-
eyed, freckled, barefooted wee Irishman, volunteered the further
information that his big brother had run to bring
to bring Father
Forbess," on the chance that he might be in time to administer
"extry munction. "
«<
―――――
The way of the silent little procession led through back streets,
- where women hanging up clothes in the yards hurried to the
gates, their aprons full of clothes-pins, to stare open-mouthed at
the passers-by,- and came to a halt at last in an irregular and
muddy lane, before one of a half-dozen shanties reared among
the ash-heaps and débris of the town's most bedraggled outskirts.
A stout, middle-aged, red-armed woman, already warned by
some messenger of calamity, stood waiting on the roadside bank.
There were whimpering children clinging to her skirts, and a
surrounding cluster of women of the neighborhood; some of
the more elderly of whom, shriveled little crones in tidy caps,
and with their aprons to their eyes, were beginning in a low-
murmured minor the wail which presently should rise into the
keen of death. Mrs. MacEvoy herself made no moan, and her
broad ruddy face was stern in expression rather than sorrowful.
When the litter stopped beside her, she laid a hand for an instant
on her husband's wet brow, and looked- one could have sworn
impassively into his staring eyes. Then, still without a word,
she waved the bearers toward the door, and led the way herself.
Theron, somewhat wonderingly, found himself a minute later
inside a dark and ill-smelling room, the air of which was humid
with the steam from a boiler of clothes on the stove, and not in
other ways improved by the presence of a jostling score of
women, all straining their gaze upon the open door of the only
—
O
## p. 5973 (#562) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5972
farming valleys of Central New York,-C
- bringing out by contrast their mark
Not a disciple of realism, his boo¹-
ments. "
Mr. Fre
There is always moreover
velopment. But it is the
that really interests him.
Girl' leave a definite eth
Ware' is depicted the
denly put in touch
which it is too m
which it suffers
ousness of hom
ground.
never un
English
makes
men'
her
Lov
to
**C
this they could see
ed, and standing awk-
way of the wife and old
ove the garments from his
watched what could be seen of
d among themselves eulogies of
good temper, his habit of bring-
ife, and the way he kept his Father
ed to his religious duties. They ad-
light of his example, their own hus-
to be desired; and from this wandered
ic digressions of their own. But all the
bent upon the bedroom door; and Theron
had grown accustomed to the gloom and the
of them were telling their beads even while
muttered conversation alive. None of them paid
him, or seemed to regard his presence there as
Bibl
he saw enter through the sunlit street doorway a
different class. The bright light shone for a passing
you a fashionable, flowered hat, and upon some remark-
Presently
person of a
ably brilliant shade of red hair beneath it.
there had edged along through the throng, to almost within
touch of him,
a tall young woman, the owner of this hat and won-
In another moment
derful hair. She was clad in light and pleasing spring attire, and
carried a parasol with a long oxidized silver handle of a quaint
pattern.
She looked at him, and he saw that her face was of a
lengthened oval, with a luminous rose-tinted skin, full red lips,
and big brown, frank eyes with heavy auburn lashes. She made.
a grave little inclination of her head toward him, and he bowed
in response. Since her arrival, he noted, the chattering of the
others had entirely ceased.
"I followed the others in, in the hope that I might be of some
assistance," he ventured to explain to her in a low murmur, feel-
ing that at last here was some one to whom an explanation of
his presence in this Romish house was due. "I hope they won't
feel that I have intruded. "
She nodded her head as if she quite understood.
"They'll take the will for the deed," she whispered back.
"Father Forbes will be here in a minute. Do you know, is it
too late? »
## p. 5973 (#563) ###########################################
HAROLD FREDERIC
5975
as she spoke, the outer doorway was darkened by the
? bulk of a new-comer's figure. The flash of a silk
deferential way in which the assembled neighbors
ar a passage, made his identity clear. Theron
tingle in an unaccustomed way as this priest of a
urch advanced across the room,-a broad-shouldered,
an of more than middle height, with a shapely, strong-
ace of almost waxen pallor, and a firm, commanding tread.
carried in his hands, besides his hat, a small leather-bound
use. To this and to him the women curtsied and bowed their
heads as he passed.
Come with me," whispered the tall girl with the parasol, to
Theron; and he found himself pushing along in her wake until
they intercepted the priest just outside the bedroom door. She
touched Father Forbes on the arm.
"Just to tell you that I am here," she said. The priest nodded
with a grave face, and passed into the other room. In a minute
or two the workmen, Mrs. MacEvoy, and her helper came out,
and the door was shut behind them.
"He is making his confession," explained the young lady.
"Stay here for a minute. "
She moved over to where the woman of the house stood,
glum-faced and tearless, and whispered something to her. A
confused movement among the crowd followed, and out of it
presently resulted a small table, covered with a white cloth, and
bearing on it two unlighted candles, a basin of water, and a
spoon, which was brought forward and placed in readiness before
the closed door. Some of those nearest this cleared space were
kneeling now, and murmuring a low buzz of prayer to the click
of beads on their rosaries.
The door opened, and Theron saw the priest standing in the
doorway with an uplifted hand. He wore now a surplice, with a
purple band over his shoulders, and on his pale face there shone
a tranquil and tender light.
One of the workmen fetched from the stove a brand, lighted
the two candles, and bore the table with its contents into the
bedroom. The young woman plucked Theron's sleeve, and he
dumbly followed her into the chamber of death, making one of
the group of a dozen, headed by Mrs. MacEvoy and her children,
which filled the little room, and overflowed now outward to the
street door. He found himself bowing with the others to receive
## p. 5974 (#564) ###########################################
5974
HAROLD FREDERIC
other apartment, the bedchamber. Through this they could see
the workmen laying MacEvoy on the bed, and standing awk-
wardly about thereafter, getting in the way of the wife and old
Maggie Quirk as they strove to remove the garments from his
crushed limbs. As the neighbors watched what could be seen of
these proceedings, they whispered among themselves eulogies of
the injured man's industry and good temper, his habit of bring-
ing his money home to his wife, and the way he kept his Father
Mathew pledge and attended to his religious duties. They ad-
mitted freely that by the light of his example, their own hus-
bands and sons left much to be desired; and from this wandered
easily off into domestic digressions of their own. But all the
while their eyes were bent upon the bedroom door; and Theron
made out, after he had grown accustomed to the gloom and the
smell, that many of them were telling their beads even while
they kept the muttered conversation alive. None of them paid
any attention to him, or seemed to regard his presence there as
unusual.
Presently he saw enter through the sunlit street doorway a
person of a different class. The bright light shone for a passing
instant upon a fashionable, flowered hat, and upon some remark-
ably brilliant shade of red hair beneath it. In another moment
there had edged along through the throng, to almost within
touch of him, a tall young woman, the owner of this hat and won-
derful hair. She was clad in light and pleasing spring attire, and
carried a parasol with a long oxidized silver handle of a quaint
pattern.
She looked at him, and he saw that her face was of a
lengthened oval, with a luminous rose-tinted skin, full red lips,
and big brown, frank eyes with heavy auburn lashes. She made
a grave little inclination of her head toward him, and he bowed
in response.
