No More Learning

When Dr. Herschel had com-
pleted his great telescope and turned it to the heavens, he cal-
culated that two hundred and fifty thousand stars passed through
its field in a quarter of an hour!
It may not irreverently be conjectured to be the harmonious
plan of the universe, that its two grand elements of mind and
matter should be accurately adjusted to each other; that there
should be full occupation in the physical world, in its laws and
properties, and in the moral and social relations connected with
it, for the contemplative and active powers of every created in-
tellect. The imperfection of human institutions has, as far as
man is concerned, disturbed the pure harmony of this great


## p. 5611 (#181) ###########################################

EDWARD EVERETT
5611
system. On the one hand, much truth, discoverable even at the
present stage of human improvement, as we have every reason to
think, remains undiscovered. On the other hand, thousands and
millions of rational minds, for want of education, opportunity, and
encouragement, have remained dormant and inactive, though sur-
rounded on every side by those qualities of things whose action
and combination, no doubt, still conceal the sublimest and most
beneficial mysteries.
But a portion of the intellect which has been placed on this
goodly theatre is wisely, intently, and successfully active; ripen-
ing, even on earth, into no mean similitude of higher natures.
From time to time a chosen hand, sometimes directed by chance,
but more commonly guided by reflection, experiment, and re-
search, touches as it were a spring until then unperceived; and
through what seemed a blank and impenetrable wall,- the barrier
to all farther progress,- a door is thrown open into some before
unexplored hall in the sacred temple of truth. The multitude
rushes in, and wonders that the portals could have remained con-
cealed so long. When a brilliant discovery or invention is pro-
claimed, men are astonished to think how long they have lived
on its confines without penetrating its nature.
―
THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION
From the Lexington Oration, April 20, 1835
FEL
ELLOW-CITIZENS! The history of the Revolution is familiar to
you. You are acquainted with it, in the general and in its
details. You know it as a comprehensive whole, embracing
within its grand outline the settlement and the colonization of
the country, the development, maturity, and rupture of the rela-
tions between Great Britain and America. You know it in the
controversy carried on for nearly a hundred and fifty years be-
tween the representatives of the people and the officers of the
crown. You know it in the characters of the great men who
signalized themselves as the enlightened and fearless leaders of
the righteous and patriotic cause. You know it in the thrilling
incidents of the crisis, when the appeal was made to arms. You
know it you have studied it-you revere it, as a mighty
epoch in human affairs; a great era in that order of Providence,
which from the strange conflict of human passions and interests,


## p. 5612 (#182) ###########################################

5612
EDWARD EVERETT
and the various and wonderfully complicated agency of the insti-
tutions of men in society,- of individual character, of exploits,
discoveries, commercial adventure, the discourses and writings of
wise and eloquent men,-educes the progressive civilization of
the race. Under these circumstances it is scarcely possible to
approach the subject in any direction with a well-grounded hope
of presenting it in new lights, or saying anything in which this
intelligent and patriotic audience will not run before me, and
anticipate the words before they drop from my lips. But it is a
theme that can never tire nor wear out. God grant that the
time may never come, when those who at periods however dis-
tant shall address you on the 19th of April, shall have anything
wholly new to impart. Let the tale be repeated from father to
son till all its thrilling incidents are as familiar as household
words; and till the names of the brave men who reaped the
bloody honors of the 19th of April, 1775, are as well known to us
as the names of those who form the circle at our firesides.
In the lives of individuals there are moments which give a
character to existence-moments too often through levity, indo-
lence, or perversity, suffered to pass unimproved; but sometimes.
met with the fortitude, vigilance, and energy due to their mo-
mentous consequences. So, in the life of nations, there are
all-important junctures when the fate of centuries is crowded
into a narrow space,- suspended on the results of an hour.
With the mass of statesmen, their character is faintly perceived,
their consequences imperfectly apprehended, the certain sacrifices.
exaggerated, the future blessings dimly seen; and some timid
and disastrous compromise, some faint-hearted temperament, is
patched up, in the complacency of short-sighted wisdom. Such
a crisis was the period which preceded the 19th of April. Such
a compromise the British ministry proposed, courted, and would
have accepted most thankfully; but not such was the patriotism
nor the wisdom of those who guided the councils of America,
and wrought out her independence. They knew that in the
order of that Providence in which a thousand years are as one
day, a day is sometimes as a thousand years. Such a day was
at hand. They saw, they comprehended, they welcomed it; they
knew it was an era. They met it with feelings like those of
Luther when he denounced the sale of indulgences, and pointed
his thunders at once-poor Augustine monk-against the civil
and ecclesiastical power of the Church, the Quirinal, and the


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EDWARD EVERETT
5613
Vatican. They courted the storm of war as Columbus courted
the stormy billows of the glorious ocean, from whose giddy curl-
ing tops he seemed to look out, as from a watch-tower, to catch
the first hazy wreath in the west which was to announce that a
new world was found. The poor Augustine monk knew and
was persuaded that the hour had come, and he was elected to
control it, in which a mighty revolution was to be wrought in
the Christian church. The poor Genoese pilot knew in his heart
that he had as it were but to stretch out the wand of his cour-
age and skill, and call up a new continent from the depths of
the sea; — and Hancock and Adams, through the smoke and
flames of the 19th of April, beheld the sun of their country's
independence arise, with healing in his wings.
And you, brave and patriotic men, whose ashes are gathered
in this humble place of deposit, no time shall rob you of the
well-deserved meed of praise! You too perceived, not less clearly
than the more illustrious patriots whose spirit you caught, that
the decisive hour had come. You felt with them that it could
not, must not be shunned. You had resolved it should not.
Reasoning, remonstrance had been tried; from your own town-
meetings, from the pulpit, from beneath the arches of Faneuil
Hall, every note of argument, of appeal, of adjuration, had
sounded to the foot of the throne, and in vain. The wheels of
destiny rolled on; the great design of Providence must be ful-
filled; the issue must be nobly met or basely shunned. Strange
it seemed, inscrutable it was, that your remote and quiet village
should be the chosen altar of the first great sacrifice. But so it
was; the summons came and found you waiting; and here in
the centre of your dwelling-places, within sight of the homes you
were to enter no more, between the village church where your
fathers worshiped and the grave-yard where they lay at rest,
bravely and meekly, like Christian heroes, you sealed the cause.
with your blood. Parker, Munroe, Hadley, the Harringtons,
Muzzy, Brown:-alas! ye cannot hear my words; no voice but
that of the archangel shall penetrate your urns; but to the end
of time your remembrance shall be preserved! To the end of
time, the soil whereon ye fell is holy; and shall be trod with
reverence, while America has a name among the nations!


## p. 5614 (#184) ###########################################

5614
JOHANNES EWALD
(1743-1781)
BY WILLIAM MORTON PAYNE
HE latter half of the eighteenth century is known in Danish
literature as the "age of enlightenment"; but although a
period fairly prolific in literary production, it is distin-
guished by few conspicuous names. Altogether the most important
among these few is that of Johannes Ewald, who stands out as the
one great figure of the transition period between Holberg and
Oehlenschläger. Born in Copenhagen, November 18th, 1743, he came
to manhood a few years after the death of Holberg had bereft Den-
mark of the father of its literature. He died March 17th, 1781, a
little more than a year later than the birth of Oehlenschläger, the
most illustrious of his successors.
―
His brief life of thirty-seven years was outwardly uneventful, ex-
cept for a boyish attempt to win fame as a warrior, which came to
an inglorious end before he had reached the age of eighteen. It was
a life of baffled ambition and unsympathetic environment, a life of
poverty and sickness,—and it must be added, of reckless dissipation,
- brightened only near its close by the sunshine of royal favor and
popular recognition. Viewed from within, however, this life, to out-
ward seeming so nearly a failure, was rich with emotion, phantasy,
and imaginative experience. The son of a Lutheran priest, and
himself destined for that calling, his temperament was the least
possible fitted for enlistment in such service; and although he went
through the forms, passing his theological examination with great
credit, he never undertook pastoral duties, and the poetic impulse
soon became so strong as to put a professional career entirely out of
the question for him.
Of his youthful feelings and aspirations, Ewald has written with
charming naïveté in his 'Levnet og Meninger' (Life and Opinions), a
fragment of autobiography almost as candid and outspoken as the
'Confessions' of Rousseau:
"I was from my childhood a lover, an admirer of everything remarkable,
whereby one might set himself apart from the crowd, become noticed, dis-
cussed, pointed out with the finger. What fruit of true and shining deeds
might have sprung from this seed, had it been properly cultivated and given
the right direction! But all my pedantic teachers, without a single exception,


## p. 5614 (#185) ###########################################


EWALD


## p. 5614 (#186) ###########################################

TH
*CKIN
almost
Ap


## p. 5614 (#187) ###########################################


EWALD
ছ


## p. 5614 (#188) ###########################################

I


## p. 5615 (#189) ###########################################

JOHANNES EWALD
5615
were content to cram my memory with Biblical phrases, Greek and Latin
vocables, and philosophical rubbish; not one of them concerned himself with
my turbulent heart, or seemed to care whether or not I was a thinking and
feeling being. The fairy tales that I heard with great delight from the
servant folk were to me so many articles of faith; to my active imagination
they were not only possible, but very fine and worthy of imitation; and since
no one took the pains to show me their absurdity, they naturally became the
fundamental principles upon which I planned my life in my little noddle. "
One day, when thirteen years old, the boy got hold of 'Robinson
Crusoe,' and emulous of that hero as many other boys have been,
started on foot for Holland, intending to sail thence for the Dutch
Indies; "hoping that on the way I might be shipwrecked upon some
desert island or other. " He got only four miles from home when he
was haled ignominiously back. A couple of years later another
childish impulse had more serious consequences. The boy of fifteen
fell in love, and could not contemplate with patience the ten years
or so that must elapse before he could become a priest and find him-
self in a position to marry. The warrior mood then seized upon
him, and he thought that by winning military renown he might
hasten a union with the object of his devotion. The Seven Years'
War was then in full swing, and Johannes, with an elder brother
whom he had persuaded to go with him, ran away to Hamburg to
join the Prussian army. The courage of the brother oozed away, and
he returned home, leaving Johannes alone in Hamburg. He enlisted,
was sent to Magdeburg, and found himself a soldier of infantry
instead of the hussar of his dreams.
Not liking this, he deserted the Prussians for the Austrians, re-
mained with them for a year and a half, became subordinate
officer, took part in the march to Prague, and was in Dresden in
1760 when the city was bombarded. About this time he became
convinced that his dreams of swiftly achieved glory had been a delu-
sion; that "the age of the demigods was past," and that there was
small hope of distinction for him as one of a hundred thousand men,
"all of whom are pledged to do their duty and dare do nothing
more. "
Having learned this salutary lesson, he deserted once more,
escaped from the army in disguise, and returned to Copenhagen a
great deal wiser than he had gone away.
Settling down to his studies, he passed the examination already
mentioned, and was looking forward to a cheerful future when he
learned that the maiden of his fancy was about to marry another
man. The loss doubtless did much to attune my soul to the deep
melancholy that I believe to be a leading characteristic of most of
my poems," he says of this episode. Like many other unhappy
young men with the gift of expression, he turned to teach in song


## p. 5616 (#190) ###########################################

5616
JOHANNES EWALD
what he had learned in suffering, although prose was the medium
of which he first sought to make use. Lykkens Tempel: en Dröm'
(The Temple of Happiness: A Dream), a cold and transparent sort
of allegory, was the immediate outcome of his melancholic mood, and
was offered for the criticism of a certain society established for the
encouragement of literary production. After much revision, the work
was accepted by the society and included in its publications. This
piece of good fortune, together with his success in a competition for
a cantata in memory of Frederik V. , so encouraged him that he
definitely made up his mind to follow his bent and devote himself to
literature. He studied the Latin poets, Corneille, Shakespeare, and
Ossian; but his chosen master was Klopstock, and he gave himself
up almost without reserve to the influence of the epic poet of the
'Messias. ' Welhaven says that this work became "Ewald's poetical
Bible. He conquered his natural repugnance, that he might pene-
trate into the work and let it determine his spiritual destiny. This
is why he says in his autobiographical fragment that he had been
steadfast enough to read the 'Messias' a third or fourth time. He
even began to translate this poem, and it was the last thing that he
read; after his death the book was found in his bed. "
The influence of Klopstock was very marked, both as to choice of
subject and treatment, in Ewald's next work, 'Adam og Eva' (Adam
and Eve), a five-act drama in Alexandrine verse with lyrical inter-
ludes. Horn calls this work "the first serious attempt made in Danish
literature to solve a great poetical problem in a grand style. If this
drama illustrates the pioneer aspect of Ewald's activity, his next
work, 'Rolf Krage,' illustrates it still further. Although this tragedy
is a reversion from poetry to prose, it is eminently poetical in con-
ception, and makes us wish that the English language had a word
equivalent to the Danish Digtning or the German Dichtung to use in
describing it. 'Rolf Krage' is the first attempt of a true Danish
poet to draw upon the rich treasury of material offered by the legend-
ary history of the Scandinavian North. The story of the play was
taken from Saxo Grammaticus, but it cannot be regarded as a suc-
cessful reproduction of the spirit of the age which it sought to depict.
The vein which it opened to imaginative writers was destined to be
worked with rich results by later men,- by Oehlenschläger in the first
half of the nineteenth century, by Björnson and Ibsen in the latter
half; but Ewald could not escape from the trammels of eighteenth-
century sentimentalism or from the artificial ideals of his German
models. In this respect he merely failed to do what no eighteenth-
century writer could accomplish: that is, he failed to grasp the inner
significance of the strong, simple life of the period that produced the
'Eddas' and the sagas.


## p. 5617 (#191) ###########################################

JOHANNES EWALD
5617
At this point a few words should be said concerning the literary
societies in Copenhagen, of which we hear so much when we at-
tempt to follow the life and productivity of Ewald in any detail.
One of them—the academic and State-subsidized organization that
gave the poet his first encouragement and provided for the publica-
tion of several of his works- has already been mentioned. There
were besides two others,-the Norwegian Society and the Danish
Literary Society, both organized at the time when Ewald was coming
into prominence. The former of these organizations stood for the
classical ideal in literature, the exemplaria Græca, and was influenced
by French models to such an extent that it could see nothing good
in the German school. Klopstock and his imitators were the object
of its most violent attacks, and Ewald came in for no little abuse on
this score. The other society conducted a vigorous opposition to
this æsthetic propaganda, and rallied about Ewald as a sort of
standard-bearer.
Naturally such a drama as 'Rolf Krage' was repugnant to parti-
sans of the Norwegian Society, who felt toward it very much as
Frederick the Great felt toward 'Götz von Berlichingen. ' They could
not foresee that a great literary revival was to be the outgrowth of
Ewald's work, and realized only that the new writer had forsaken the
examples of literary excellence hitherto most approved by people of
good taste. Although not very directly related to this particular
conflict of æsthetic opinion, Ewald's three satirical or controversial
plays were a natural product of the factious conditions of the time.
'Pebersvendene' (The Bachelors), 'De Brutale Klappere' (The Brutal
Claqueurs), and Harlekin Patriot'-the first in prose, the two others
in verse - did but little for the poet's fame, and are chiefly interest-
ing as evidence of his almost absolute lack of humor. Oehlen-
schläger's judgment of Harlekin Patriot,' the best of the three,
must be accepted as the final word of criticism upon this subject:-
"We cannot regard the piece as a comic drama, for it is destitute of
action, characterization, illusion, and comic nature. "
Only two of Ewald's works now remain to be accounted for, but
they are his masterpieces; 'Balder's Död' (Balder's Death), and
'Fiskerne (The Fishers), each a three-act drama in verse. . For the
tragedy of 'Balder's Död' the poet turned once more to Saxo for in-
spiration, and produced a far finer and deeper work than 'Rolf
Krage,' his earlier essay in this direction, had been. The work was
moreover the first Danish drama to forsake the conventional and
unwieldy Alexandrine verse for the freer movement and richer possi-
bilities of the iambic pentameter. It is still possible to find many
faults with this poem, to censure it for its nebulous ideality, its
monotony, its lack of adequate motivation, to accept, in short, nearly
X-352


## p. 5618 (#192) ###########################################

5618
JOHANNES EWALD
all of the adverse criticisms of Oehlenschläger and Welhaven; yet
there remains enough of the beautiful in its diction and of the mas-
terly in its construction amply to justify the high place that the work
occupies in Danish literature. At its best, and particularly in its
lyrical portions, the poem soars to a height that had never before
been reached by Danish song; it was at once a revelation of the
author's full-fledged genius and of the poetical capacities of his
mother tongue.
The production of Ewald's Fiskerne,' his last great work, is
associated with almost the only gleam of light that fell upon his
pathway. He had been living the larger part of his adult life away
from the capital, in one country or sea-coast village after another, in
great poverty, suffering much of the time from a severe form of
rheumatism. At one time the poor-house seemed his only hope of
refuge. From all this misery he was finally rescued by a friend,
through whose efforts he was brought back to Copenhagen, provided
with a comfortable home, and granted aid by the court. 'Balder's
Död' was put upon the boards of the Royal Theatre, and the poet
at last tasted the sweets of popularity. At the same time his health
bettered, and he found strength to devote himself to the new poem
which was to prove his last. 'Fiskerne is a lyrical drama - almost
what we should call a cantata based upon the story of a ship-
wreck that had occurred a few years before. In this work Ewald's
imagination, psychological insight, and lyric impulse found their
highest expression. Above all, the poem is informed with a passion-
ate patriotism and a sense of the sea power of Denmark — qualities
that affected the national consciousness like wine, and have never
lost their charm and their inspiration. One of the lyrics included in
this drama became and has ever since remained the national song
of Denmark, and no nation can boast a nobler one.
After the production and success of 'Fiskerne,' Ewald set about
the preparation of a uniform edition of his complete writings, but
lived to witness the publication of only one volume.
His partly
restored health soon failed him again, and he died, after much suf-
fering, in his thirty-eighth year. He was buried in the grave-yard of
Trinity Church, Copenhagen, in the presence of a great assembly of
his fellow-countrymen, tardily brought to recognize the fact that with
his death a great national poet had passed away.
Ewald's reputation has undergone the vicissitudes that usually
come to the memory of men of genius. . For a time the subject of
indiscriminate laudation, his work was attacked by the searching criti-
cism of later writers, notably Oehlenschläger and Welhaven, and his
reputation suffered for a time. Since then his fame has again grown
bright, and it is probable that something like the final estimate
―


## p. 5619 (#193) ###########################################

JOHANNES EWALD
5619
has been placed upon his work. And a high place in Danish litera-
ture must always be occupied by the man who wrote the national
ballad of King Christian,' who brought the pathetic quality into
Danish poetry, who first revealed the lyrical possibilities of the Dan-
ish language, who established the verse form that was ever thereafter
to be chosen for the poetical drama, and who first among moderns
tapped the well-spring of the inspiration that was to flow into Scan-
dinavian literature from the rich legendary inheritance of the old
Norse myth-makers and saga-men.
Etta Payles
[Ewald's King Christian,' in Longfellow's familiar translation, stands at
the head of the following selections. The other translations, in verse and
prose, have been made by me for this work. ]
W. M. P.
THE DANISH NATIONAL SONG
ING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast
In mist and smoke;
His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm and brain it passed.
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast
In mist and smoke.
"Fly! " shouted they, "fly, he who can!
Who braves of Denmark's Christian
The stroke? "
K™
Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar:
Now is the hour!
He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smote upon the foe full sore,
And shouted loud through the tempest's roar,
"Now is the hour! "
"Fly! " shouted they, "for shelter fly!
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy
The power? >»
North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent
Thy murky sky!
Then champions to thine arms were sent;
Terror and Death glared where he went,


## p. 5620 (#194) ###########################################

5620
JOHANNES EWALD
From the waves was heard a wail that rent
Thy murky sky!
From Denmark thunders Tordenskiol';
Let each to Heaven commend his soul,
And fly!
Path of the Dane to fame and might,
Dark-rolling wave!
Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight,
Goes to meet danger with despite,
Proudly as thou the tempest's might,
Dark-rolling wave!
And amid pleasures and alarms,
And war and victory, be thine arms
My grave!
Longfellow's Translation.
FIRST LOVE
From 'Life and Opinions›
Ο
NE morning, the most unforgettable, the most blessed of my
life, she bade me take some lace to one of her cousins,
whom I had not seen before. I followed my directions,
and asked for the eldest Jomfrue Hulegaard. She was sitting
with her parents at table, and came out to see me in the room
to which I had been admitted. She came,-Oh Heavens! O
happy moment! how gladly would I recall thee, and cleave to
thee with my whole soul, and forget all my misfortunes, all that
I have suffered for thy sake! She came
-my Arendse !
I have dared the attempt to depict her, but did I possess all
the art of Raphael and all the art of Petrarch combined, and
should I devote my whole lifetime to picture her image, as at the
first dazzled gaze it became imprinted upon my heart and re-
mains there unchanged after so many years, I could produce
but a dull and imperfect copy thereof. She was my Arendse, and
who can see her with my eyes, or feel her with my heart?
Love beamed from her glance, love played upon her lips, love
was fragrant in her heaving bosom. Her every expression seemed
to cry out, Love! love! love! Nature, heaven, and earth all
vanished, and my throbbing, melting heart felt the blissful rap-
ture of an unspeakable affection. O my Arendse! thou wast
――
1


## p. 5621 (#195) ###########################################

JOHANNES EWALD
5621
surely intended for me by Him who made us both. Why does
another now possess thee? Perchance this is presumptuous-
God forgive me if it is-but the thought is very anguish to me.
I will forget it—if I can.
One cannot, I think, better cool his passion than by formulat-
ing opinions. I will deliver myself of two that may best be ex-
pressed in connection with this catastrophe, which will always be
to me the most serious of my life: the one is, that the first real
love depends upon a sort of sympathy or an instinctive bent that
I cannot explain, and is not deliberately to be evoked; the other
is, that the heart, if I may thus express myself, has its virginity,
and cannot possibly lose it more than once. But I must turn
back to my sweet sorrow.
My cheeks burned, my knees trembled. I stammered out my
errand as best I might, thinking of nothing else, looking at nothing
else, but Arendse. Afterwards she often told me that she marked
my agitation, and I replied that my loving heart did not find it
exactly flattering that she should have been able to mark it so
distinctly.
When I realized from the silence of my Arendse that I must
have done my errand, I ventured hesitatingly to press her hand
to my lips, and heavenly fires shot blissful from her fingers
to the depths of my soul. I lost possession of myself. I re-
treated backwards, bowing every moment, and since I at last
came to the head of a steep staircase without noticing it, my love
would in all probability, had she not spoken a word of warning,
have either found prompt expression, or once for all have worked
out its sorrowful, its terrible influence upon my fate. But I was
destined for deeper sufferings than the heaviest fall can cause,
and it was decreed that through my love I should lose more than
my life.
If you believe in omens, gentlemen, you may take this for
one!
I wake at this moment from a mood of deep reflection. I
have sat for half an hour with folded arms, trying to answer for
myself the question whether I would have missed all the tortur-
ing pangs, all the depressing misfortunes of which this first love
of mine has been the cause, on condition that I should have
missed too all the sweetness, all the blissfulness, it has brought
me; and now I can answer with a clear conscience: No! I should
indeed be very ungrateful to make plaint about it, if it had


## p. 5622 (#196) ###########################################

5622
JOHANNES EWALD
brought me nothing more than grief and misfortune. But it was
also one of the first and weightiest causes of the most serious
mistake of my life, and this feeling of its full consequences was
what drew from me just now the not altogether baseless state-
ment that it had cost me more than my life.
FROM THE FISHERS'
NOTE.
This translation of the closing scene of Ewald's lyrical drama
(Fiskerne requires a word of explanation. The characters are a group of
simple fisher folk: Anders, his wife Gunild, their daughters Lise and Birthe,
and the young men Knud and Svend, betrothed to the two girls. A ship has
been wrecked upon the coast, and the men have rescued one of the sailors
from death, but have lost their own boat and fishing-tackle in so doing. This
is a serious matter, for it threatens the contemplated marriage of the young
When the scene which we have translated opens, the whole group of
fisher folk, together with the rescued seaman, have been talking over the situa-
tion; and there now appears upon the stage Odelhiem, a wealthy and philan-
thropic Dane, who has learned of their bravery and what it has cost them.
men.
W. M. P.
DELHIEM
Forgive
If I, unknown to you, should claim too freely
A share, a modest share, in your rejoicings;
For joy must wait on strife o'er deeds of heroes.
By merest chance I too was made acquainted
With what concerns you now; the part remaining
I learned from Claus. And now I beg, I pray you,
To hear what from my inmost heart is welling;
To hear how Heaven within my soul bears witness.
Knud We know not who you are.
Odelhiem-
Knud-
Odelhiem [addressing the rescued sailor]-
O
―――
A Dane.
Well, speak then.
That thou, my friend, shouldst offer all thy substance
To them who saved thee was but just. Thy ardor
Ennobles thee; thy life was worth the saving.
And that these brave men blush to hear thy offer,
And rather choose the lot of poverty,
Is but their nature, and to be expected.
The gold that thou didst seek to force upon them
Would but oppress them, would the joy but darken
That now is theirs, and that alone they sought for,-
Thy life, thy grateful tears, thy heart's thanksgiving.
Nor do I wonder that these hearts heroic
-


## p. 5623 (#197) ###########################################

JOHANNES EWALD
5623
Should thrill with shame at any speech of payment;
For noble actions are their own adornment;
The very thought of profit casts a shadow
Over their splendor. This know well the righteous.
Yet, brothers, 'tis our duty that we spurn not
The meed unsought, on us bestowed by Heaven.
Gunild-That has been ours.
Odelhiem-
Svend-
Knud
Odelhiem
Noble soul, I know it!
But may we face our God, dust-shapen creatures,
And cry to him, Desist! enough of blessings!
And have not all of us a loving mother
Who may compel acceptance ?
Who?
Where?
Odelhiem-
Whose right it is, whose pleasure, and whose honor,
Virtue to crown, as to condemn the wicked.
The tenderest of mothers still must loosen
The bonds wherewith she holds us, and all fearful,
Intrust our footsteps to ourselves and Heaven,
Ere we attain to noble deeds, the well-spring
Denmark;
Whence streams the light that decks her with its splendor.
Yet still she draws men to her- not the valorous,
They find their own way- but our weaker brothers
She draws to her with prayer and promised guerdon,
With hopes, and with report of others' fortune.
And you whose hearts are burdened with the feeling
That this, of all your days the very fairest,
Should bring you unawaited grim misfortune,
The loss of wealth, the pang of hopeless passion,-
Shall you give cause for men to say reproachful:
"These folk gave glory to our haughty Denmark
By great heroic deeds, and now they languish
In want and woe, by Denmark unrequited"?
Knud My heart is Danish; he should feel its anger
Who in my hearing dared to rail at Denmark,
And what she offers, men should not hold lightly;
Yet how, and in what shape, she offers largess
Our losses to repair, bring cheer to others,—
That is not clear to my poor understanding.
Know that her arms outstretched are ever helpful;
All-powerful is her will; her law forever
Binds to her lofty aims her wealthy children.


## p. 5624 (#198) ###########################################

5624
JOHANNES EWALD
Svend
Knud-
Anders
Gunild
Knud-
Svend-
Lise
Odelhiem
-
Their joy to cherish valorous deeds, their duty
To offer in her name whatever solace,
Whatever help and strength there lies in riches.
Conscious that wealth was mine, I stood rejoicing
That I was near, and heard her voice. O brothers!
Do not begrudge the joy with which I hearken
To such a mother's hest: for I have hearkened,
And with the friend whose guest I am up yonder
Have left the cost of boat and wedding outfit;
While for our Anders and the noble fellows
Who bravely took their part in all the danger,
Is set apart a gift of equal value.
And every year, so long as still is living
One of the five, they and their children's children
Shall, that this day be evermore remembered,
Receive an equal pledge of Denmark's bounty.
For all this I have taken care; this, brothers,
To do, your deed and our fair land command me.
Thy words are generous and noble, stranger;
They overwhelm us.
I believe, by Heaven,
My soul is wax. When played I thus the woman?
Because my tears are flowing, do not scorn me!
What shall I answer thee? Speak for me, Anders!
I know thee now, the man of noble presence
Our friend has told us of. Great soul and worthy,
Do what thou will'st; thou hast deserved the pleasure
Of helping honest Danes! 'Twere pride stiff-necked
In us to scorn so generous an offer.
Ingratitude it were, and sin toward Heaven.
We thank thee, noble soul!
We thank thee deeply!
Our tears, too, give thee thanks!
Not me, but Denmark!
This is its festal day; with song and gladness,
The cheerful bowl, and-for our maidens' pleasure -
The merry dance, I trust that we may end it.
All is provided. Now, my worthy brothers,
We will forget the past, and but remember
The valor and the fortune of our country.
CHORUS
Odelhiem- The deed that is not felt a burden,
That leaves within the breast no smart,
T


## p. 5625 (#199) ###########################################

JOHANNES EWALD
5625
To deeds of ripe and lasting worth!
May Danish soil give ever birth
To deeds of ripe and lasting worth!
Gunild-O piety, where thy gentle leaven
All-
All-
Anders
All-
Lise-
All-
―
All-
Good hap be evermore its guerdon,
While freedom warms the Cimbrian heart.
May Danish soil give ever birth
Our joy to follow wisdom's beck,
That noble deeds our lives may deck.
The courage that in old days melted
The warrior-maid's defense of pride,
Still stirs the hero, as, unbelted,
He lies at his beloved's side.
Still loving Danish maidens start
The fire that lights the hero-heart.
Still loving Danish maidens start
The fire that lights the hero-heart.
Svend Where countless footprints onward reaching
To valiant souls a pathway ope,
The chosen way of honor teaching,
Bidding them forward march with hope:
On Denmark's memory-famous strand
Men win renown at danger's hand.
On Denmark's memory-famous strand
Men win renown at danger's hand.
Birthe Where men with unknown brothers vying
In life and death make common cause;
Where sympathy consoles the dying,
And slays despair in death's own jaws;
Where hearts for love of Denmark swell,
Deceit and evil dare not dwell.
-
With promise fair fills young and old,
And mingles with the dreams that Heaven
On earth bestows of joy untold;
True courage from thy strength doth spring,
And seeks the shadow of thy wing.
True courage from thy strength doth spring,
And seeks the shadow of thy wing.
Where smiles from Heaven shed light abiding,
Rewarding our industrious days,
The sons of courage safely guiding
Upon the old well-trodden ways:
Where brave men follow wisdom's beck,
Heroic deeds our annals deck.


## p. 5626 (#200) ###########################################

5626
JOHANNES EWALD
Where hearts for love of Denmark swell,
Deceit and evil dare not dwell.
Knud Beloved Sea, thy life unresting
We feel our inmost veins transfuse;
Our hearts grow stout thy billows breasting;
Thy air our failing strength renews;
Our pride and joy, O Northern Sea!
The Danish soul takes fire from thee.
Our pride and joy, O Northern Sea!
The Danish soul takes fire from thee.
Ye golden fields, rest ever smiling!
Foam in thy pride, blue-silver wave!
Be, 'neath thy guard of warriors whiling,
Ever the birth-land of the brave!
Denmark, of valor be the home!
And honored for all time to come!
Denmark, of valor be the home,
And honored for all time to come!
All-
All
Men
Women
Men
Women-
All-
―
―
-
[The play ends with a dance of the fisher folk.


## p. 5627 (#201) ###########################################

5627
FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
(1831-)
MONG the influences that have formed my life," says Dean Far-
rar, "I must mention the character of my mother. She had
no memorial in this world; she passed her life in the deep
valley of poverty, obscurity, and trial, but she has left to her only
surviving son the recollections of a saint. As a boy I was not sent
to our great English public schools, but to one which is comparatively
unknown, although several men were trained there who are now play-
ing a considerable part in the world. That school was King William's
College, at Castleton on the Isle of Man.
I have sketched the natural surroundings of
the school, and many little incidents of its
daily life, in the first book I wrote-Eric,
or Little by Little,>» now in its twenty-
sixth edition. "Accident," he continues,
"made me an author. The proposal to
write a book on school life came unsought,
and I naturally found in my own reminis-
cences the colors in which I had to work. "

-
Born in Bombay in 1831, Farrar took
numerous prizes and honors during his
school life at King's College, and at nine-
teen was made classical exhibitioner of the
London University, where he was gradu-
ated. In 1854 he took his bachelor's degree at Trinity College, Cam-
bridge, was ordained deacon, and in 1857 was admitted to priest's
orders. For several years he was an assistant master at Harrow; in
1871 became head-master of Marlborough College, where he remained
till April 1876, when he was appointed canon in Westminster Abbey
and rector of St. Margaret's. While at Harrow he was made chap-
lain to the Queen, and in 1883 Archdeacon of Westminster. He is
at present Dean of Canterbury.
His literary fecundity is extraordinary. Besides his 'Life of Christ,'
which gave him an almost world-wide fame; his 'Life and Work of
St. Paul' and his 'Beginnings of Christianity,' each of which repre-
sents much labor, he has written a course of Hulsean Lectures on
the Witness of History to Christ'; a bulky volume on Eschatology';
(
FREDERICK W. FARRAR


## p. 5628 (#202) ###########################################

5628
FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
three linguistic works, The Origin of Language,' 'Chapters on Lan-
guage,' and 'Families of Speech', two popular romances, 'Darkness
and Dawn' and 'Gathering Clouds'; and many volumes of sermons
and theological papers.
PAUL BEFORE FESTUS AND AGRIPPA
From The Life and Work of St. Paul'
I
T WAS not, as is commonly represented, a new trial. That
would have been on all grounds impossible. Agrippa was
without judicial functions, and the authority of the procura-
tor had been cut short by the appeal. It was more of the nature
of a private or drawing-room audience,-a sort of show occasion
designed for the amusement of these princely guests and the
idle aristocracy of Cæsarea, both Jewish and Gentile. Festus
ordered the auditorium to be prepared for the occasion, and
invited all the chief officers of the army and the principal inhab-
itants of the town. The Herods were fond of show, and Festus
gratified their humor by a grand processional display. He would
doubtless appear in his scarlet paludament, with his full attend-
ance of lictors and body-guard, who would stand at arms behind
the gilded chairs which were placed for himself and his distin-
guished visitors. We are expressly told that Agrippa and Beren-
ice went in state to the Prætorium, she doubtless blazing with
all her jewels and he in his purple robes, and both with the
golden circlets of royalty around their foreheads, and attended
by a suite of followers in the most gorgeous apparel of Eastern
pomp. It was a compliment to the new governor to visit him
with as much splendor as possible, and both he and his guests
were not sorry to furnish a spectacle which would at once illus-
trate their importance and their mutual cordiality. Did Agrippa
think of his great-grandfather Herod, and the massacre of the
innocents? of his great-uncle Antipas, and the murder of John
the Baptist? Of his father Agrippa I. , and the execution of
James the Elder? Did he recall the fact that they had each died
or been disgraced, soon after or in direct consequence of those
inflictions of martyrdom? Did he realize how closely but unwit-
tingly the faith in that "one Jesus" had been linked with the
destinies of his house? Did the pomp of to-day remind him of
the pomp sixteen years earlier, when his much more powerful
father had stood in the theatre, with the sunlight blazing on the


## p. 5629 (#203) ###########################################

FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
5629
tissued silver of his robe, and the people shouting that he was a
god? Did none of the dark memories of the place overshadow
him as he entered that former palace of his race? It is very
unlikely. Extreme vanity, gratified self-importance, far more
probably absorbed the mind of this titular king, as in all the
pomp of phantom sovereignty he swept along the large open
hall, seated himself with his beautiful sister by the procurator's
side, and glanced with cold curiosity on the poor worn, shackled
prisoner-pale with sickness and long imprisonment - who was
led in at his command.
Festus opened the proceedings in a short complimentary
speech, in which he found an excuse for the gathering by saying
that on the one hand the Jews were extremely infuriated against
this man, and that on the other he was entirely innocent, so far
as he could see, of any capital crime. Since however he was a
Roman citizen, and had appealed to Cæsar, it was necessary to
send to "the Lord" some minute of the case by way of elogium,
and he was completely perplexed as to what he ought to say.
He was therefore glad of the opportunity to bring the prisoner
before this distinguished assembly; that they, and especially King
Agrippa, might hear what he had to say for himself, and so, by
forming some sort of preliminary judgment, relieve Festus from
the ridiculous position of sending a prisoner without being able
to state any definite crime with which he had been charged.
As no accusers were present, and this was not in any respect
a judicial assembly, Agrippa, as the person for whom the whole
scene was got up, told Paul that he was allowed to speak about
himself. Had the Apostle been of a morose disposition he might
have despised the hollowness of these mock proceedings. Had he
been actuated by any motives lower than the highest, he might
have seized the opportunity to flatter himself into favor in the
absence of his enemies. But the predominant feature in his, as
in the very greatest characters, was a continual seriousness and
earnestness; and his only desire was to plead not his own cause,
but that of his Master. Festus, with the Roman adulation, which
in that age outran even the appetite of absolutism, had used that
title of "the Lord," which the later emperors seized with avid-
ity, but which the earliest and ablest of them had contemptuously
refused. But Paul was neither imposed upon by these colossal
titles of reverence, nor daunted by these pompous inanities of
reflected power.


## p. 5630 (#204) ###########################################

5630
FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
There is not a word of his address which does not prove how
completely he was at his ease. The scarlet sagum of the pro-
curator, the fasces of the lictors, the swords of the legionaries,
the gleaming armor of the chiliarchs, did not for one moment
daunt him,—they were a terror, not to good works but to the
evil; and he felt that his was a service which was above all
sway.
Stretching out his hand in the manner familiar to the orators
whom he had often heard in Tarsus or in Antioch, he began
by the sincere remark that he was particularly happy to make
his defense before King Agrippa, not—which would have been
false for any special worth of his, but because the prince had
received from his father-whose anxiety to conform to the Law,
both written and oral, was well known-an elaborate training in
all matters of Jewish religion and casuistry, which could not fail
to interest him in a question of which he was so competent to
judge. He begged therefore for a patient audience; and nar-
rated once more the familiar story of his conversion from the
standpoint of a rigid and bigoted Pharisee to a belief that the
Messianic hopes of his nation had now been actually fulfilled, in
that Jesus of Nazareth whose followers he had at first furiously
persecuted, but who had won him by a personal revelation of
his glory to the knowledge that he had risen from the dead.
Why should that belief appear incredible to his hearers? It once
had been so to himself; but how could he resist the eye-witness
of a noonday vision? and how could he disobey the heavenly
voice which sent him forth to open the eyes both of Jews and
Gentiles, that they might turn from darkness to light and the
power of Satan unto God; that by faith in Jesus they might
receive remission of sins and a lot among the sanctified? He
had not been disobedient to it. In Damascus, in Jerusalem,
throughout all Judea, and subsequently among the Gentiles, he
had been a preacher of repentance and conversion towards God,
and a life consistent therewith. This was why the Jews had
seized him in the Temple and tried to tear him to pieces; but in
this and every danger God had helped him, and the testimony
which he bore to small and great was no blasphemy, no apos-
tasy, but simply a truth in direct accordance with the teachings
of Moses and the Prophets: that the Messiah should be liable to
suffering, and that from his resurrection from the dead a light
should dawn to lighten both the Gentiles and his people.
—


## p. 5631 (#205) ###########################################

FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
5631
Paul was now launched on the full tide of that sacred and
impassioned oratory which was so powerful an agent in his mis-
sion work. He was delivering to kings and governors and chief
captains that testimony which was the very object of his life.
Whether on other topics his speech was as contemptible as his
enemies chose to represent, we cannot say; but on this topic, at
any rate, he spoke with the force of long familiarity and the
fire of intense conviction. He would probably have proceeded to
develop the great thesis which he had just sketched in outline;
but at this point he was stopped short. These facts and revela-
tions were new to Festus. Though sufficiently familiar with true
culture to recognize it even through these Oriental surroundings,
he could only listen open-mouthed to this impassioned tale of
visions, and revelations, and ancient prophecies, and of a Jewish
Prophet who had been crucified and yet had risen from the
dead and was Divine, and who could forgive sins and lighten
the darkness of Jews as well as of Gentiles. He had been get-
ting more and more astonished, and the last remark was too
much for him. He suddenly burst out with the loud and ex-
cited interruption, "You are mad, Paul; those many writings are
turning your brain. " His startling ejaculation checked the ma-
jestic stream of the Apostle's eloquence, but did not otherwise
ruffle his exquisite courtesy. "I am not mad," he exclaimed
with calm modesty, giving to Festus his recognized title of
"your Excellency," "but I am uttering words of reality and
soberness. "
But Festus was not the person whom he was mainly address-
ing, nor were these the reasonings which he would be likely to
understand. It was different with Agrippa. He had read Moses
and the Prophets, and had heard from multitudes of witnesses
some at least of the facts to which Paul referred. To him, there-
fore, the Apostle appealed in proof of his perfect sanity. "The
king," he said, "knows about these things, to whom it is even
with confidence that I am addressing my remarks. I am sure
that he is by no means unaware of any of these circumstances,
for all that I say has not been done in a corner. " And then,
wishing to resume the thread of his argument at the point where
it had been broken, and where it would be most striking to a
Jew, he asked:-
"King Agrippa, dost thou believe the Prophets? I know that
thou believest. "
―


## p. 5632 (#206) ###########################################

5632
FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
But Agrippa did not choose to be entrapped into a discussion,
still less into an assent. Not old in years, but accustomed from
his boyhood to an atmosphere of cynicism and unbelief, he could
only smile with the good-natured contempt of a man of the
world at the enthusiastic earnestness which could even for a
moment fancy that he would be converted to the heresy of the
Nazarenes with their crucified Messiah! Yet he did not wish to
be uncourteous. It was impossible not to admire the burning
zeal which neither stripes nor prisons could quench, the clear-
sighted faith which not even such a surrounding could for a
moment dim.
"You are trying to persuade me off-hand to be a Christian'! ,”
he said with a half-suppressed smile; and this finished specimen
of courtly cutrapelia was his bantering answer to St. Paul's ap-
peal. Doubtless his polished remark on this compendious style
of making converts sounded very witty to that distinguished com-
pany; and they would with difficulty suppress their laughter at
the notion that Agrippa, favorite of Claudius, friend of Nero,
King of Chalcis, Ituræa, Trachonitis, nominator of the High
Priest, and supreme guardian of the Temple treasures, should
succumb to the potency of this "short method with a Jew. "
That a Paul should make the king a Christian (! ) would sound
too ludicrous. But the laugh would be instantly suppressed in
pity and admiration of the poor but noble prisoner, as with per-
fect dignity he took advantage of Agrippa's ambiguous expres-
sion, and said with all the fervent sincerity of a loving heart,
"I could pray to God that whether in little' or 'in much,' not
thou only, but even all who are listening to me to-day might
become even such as I am- except," he added, as he raised his
fettered hand-"except these bonds. " They saw that this was
indeed no common prisoner. One who could argue as he had
argued, and speak as he had spoken; one who was so filled with
the exaltation of an inspiring idea, so enriched with the happi-
ness of a firm faith and a peaceful conscience, that he could tell
them how he prayed that they all-all these princely and dis-
tinguished people - could be even such as he; and who yet in
the spirit of entire forgiveness desired that the sharing in his
faith might involve no share in his sorrows or misfortunes-
must be such a one as they never yet had seen or known, either
in the worlds of Jewry or of heathendom. But was useless to
prolong the scene. Curiosity was now sufficiently gratified, and
-


## p. 5633 (#207) ###########################################

FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
5633
it had become clearer than ever that though they might regard
Paul the prisoner as an amiable enthusiast or an inspired fanatic,
he was in no sense a legal criminal. The king, by rising from
his seat, gave the signal for breaking up the meeting; Berenice
and Festus and their respective retinues rose up at the same
time, and as the distinguished assembly dispersed, they were heard
remarking on all sides that Paul was undeserving of death, or
even of imprisonment. He had made, in fact, a deeply favor-
able impression. Agrippa's decision was given entirely for his
acquittal. "This person," he said to Festus, "might have been
permanently set at liberty if he had not appealed to Cæsar. "
Agrippa was far too little of a Pharisee and far too much of a
man of the world not to see that mere freedom of thought could
not be, and ought not to be, suppressed by external violence.
The proceedings of that day probably saved St. Paul's life full
two years afterwards. Festus, since his own opinion on grounds
of Roman justice was so entirely confirmed from the Jewish
point of view by the Protector of the Temple, could hardly fail
to send to Nero an elogium which freely exonerated the prisoner
from every legal charge; and even if Jewish intrigues were put
in play against him, Nero could not condemn to death a man
whom Felix, and Lysias, and Festus, and Agrippa, and even the
Jewish Sanhedrim, in the only trial of the case which they had
held, had united in pronouncing innocent of any capital crime.
ROMAN CIVILIZATION UNDER NERO
From The Early Days of Christianity'
I
NEED but make a passing allusion to its enormous wealth; its
unbounded self-indulgence; its coarse and tasteless luxury; its
greedy avarice; its sense of insecurity and terror; its apathy,
debauchery, and cruelty; its hopeless fatalism; its unspeakable
sadness and weariness; its strange extravagances alike of infidelity.
and of superstition.
At the lowest extreme of the social scale were millions of
slaves, without family, without religion, without possessions, who
had no recognized rights, and towards whom none had any rec-
ognized duties, passing normally from a childhood of degradation
to a manhood of hardship and an old age of unpitied neglect.
X-353


## p. 5634 (#208) ###########################################

5634
FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR
Only a little above the slaves stood the lower classes, who formed
the vast majority of the free-born inhabitants of the Roman
Empire. They were for the most part beggars and idlers, famil-
iar with the grossest indignities of an unscrupulous dependence.
Despising a life of honest industry, they asked only for bread
and the games of the circus, and were ready to support any
government, even the most despotic, if it would supply these
needs. They spent their mornings in lounging about the Forum
or in dancing attendance at the levées of patrons, for a share in
whose largesses they daily struggled. They spent their afternoons
and evenings in gossiping at the public baths, in listlessly enjoy-
ing the polluted plays of the theatre, or looking with fierce
thrills of delighted horror at the bloody sports of the arena. At
night they crept up to their miserable garrets in the sixth and
seventh stories of the huge insula, - the lodging-houses of
Rome, into which, as into the low lodging-houses of the poorer
quarters of London, there drifted all that was most wretched and
most vile. Their life, as it is described for us by their contem-
poraries, was largely made up of squalor, misery, and vice.